leenashiftss

[leenashiftss]

SLIPPED

| “You wanted this, wanted me, now you’ll fucking have every drop.”

Pairing: Therapist Sim Jaeyun x afab!reader

Genre: NSFT, Smutty, Angst if you squint, Therapist/Client Relationship

Warnings: Dom!Jake, Degradation, Explicit sexual content, hair pulling, Jake is lowk mean ( he’s just confused fr )

Rating: 18+ MDNI

WC: 2k😙

| You knew you should’ve stopped before it even began. But now? You’re stumbling home from your “session,” his seed still warm and dripping down your thighs. You went back. You can’t help yourself.. your body craves him, aches for him, screams his name. And Dr. Sim? He always answers his clients.

Part 1

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

You went back home a little later than usual. The air outside had been thick and humid, and it clung to your skin even as you stepped into the building. Your legs still wobbled with each step, muscles tense and unsteady, and your hand kept brushing against the walls as you made your way up the narrow stairwell. Every step felt heavier than the last, and by the time you reached your floor, your breaths came shallow and uneven.

Your key slipped once in the lock before catching. You turned it with shaking fingers, pushing the door open just enough to squeeze inside. The familiar scent of detergent and faint traces of the candles you had burned earlier lingered in the air. You leaned against the door for a moment, willing your body to stop trembling.

Then your phone’s ringtone cut through the quiet, loud and sudden enough to make your pulse jump. You fumbled for it, nearly dropping it before the screen lit up. Dr. Sim.

Your lips pulled into a smile without much thought as you swiped to answer. “Hello?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

There was a pause on the other end. You could hear faint static before his voice came through, low and even.

“Just making sure you made it home safe,” Dr. Sim said. His tone carried no warmth, no hint of concern, only a flat calm that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

“Oh. Yeah, I did,” you replied quickly, a small laugh slipping out. “Thanks for checking.”

He didn’t respond right away. You thought you heard the faint sound of his breath through the receiver, but it was too quiet to be certain.

“Good,” he said finally.

The line went dead before you could say anything else.

You pulled the phone away and stared at the screen for a moment. The call had lasted less than thirty seconds, and yet you couldn’t shake the strange weight in your chest. You set the phone down on the counter, still listening to the faint ringing in your ears.

It was probably nothing. Just Dr. Sim being… himself. But for some reason, the abruptness of his voice stayed with you.

—

Thursday Night

All week. All fucking week.

All week you've been trying to get yourself off. But here you are once again. Laying on your sheets, fingers sore, legs trembling, tear streaks going down your cheeks.

Your arousal stuck to your thighs, the wetness basically heckling you.

You cover your mouth, one hand over your lips and the other sneaking back underneath your duvet.

You knew you could do it, you were determined to.

Bringing your wrinkled fingertips back to your swollen bud, you rubbed slow, small patterns over yourself. Whimpers fell from your lips, your hips bucked, your toes curled.

Everything, every movement, every sound pointed to you enjoying yourself.

But you couldn’t , your determination took over the pleasure.

You groaned, throwing your head back into your plush pillows. Only one thing— person, clouded your mind.

…Dr. Sim.

Next Friday — Session with Dr. Sim

It started innocent enough, or at least it was supposed to.

Friday at 4PM. Same office, same chair, same man. But something felt different today. The air was heavier, thicker, like both of you had been carrying too much all week.

He watched you from his chair, elbows braced on his knees, fingers laced tightly together like he was physically holding himself back. His eyes stayed trained on you, dark and unreadable, but his jaw flexed every time your thighs rubbed together like you couldn’t help it.

“You seem… restless today,” Dr. Sim finally said, his voice smooth but strained. “Something on your mind?” His head tilted slightly.

You swallowed, looking down at your hands. “I..I don’t know. I just—” You shifted in your seat. “It’s been hard… all week. I couldn’t—” You stopped yourself.

His brows lifted slightly. “You couldn’t…?”

���Finish.” The word barely made it past your lips.

He froze. You could hear the clock ticking behind him.

“I don’t know why it’s like this,” you whispered, voice barely steady. “I’ve tried everything, but nothing works unless…” Your eyes flicked up to meet his. “Unless it’s you.”

His breath hitched, a subtle but unmistakable break in his composed mask. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers curling into fists for a moment before loosening again.

“That’s not appropriate,” he said, voice low but firm, trying to maintain the professional barrier. “We can’t let this interfere with our work.”

But the way his gaze flickered to your thighs, the way his jaw clenched, told a different story. The air between you thickened, every second stretching unbearably long.

You swallowed hard, desperation creeping into your voice. “Please. I need this. You’re the only one who can..” You trailed off, cheeks burning. “Who can make me.”

His eyes darkened, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to shake off an invisible weight. Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, he stood. The scrape of his chair against the floor felt loud in the silence.

“This is a line we shouldn’t cross,” he said, voice strained, but he didn’t move away.

“again.”

You bit your lip, inching closer, the magnetic pull between you undeniable. “Just this once,” you breathed, “…Please.”

He hesitated. His hands twitched, like a man fighting the pull of gravity. His breath was uneven now, chest rising and falling rapidly as if he were wrestling with himself.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking for,” he said. But the way his eyes dragged down your body betrayed him. Flexing his hands like he wanted to grab you right then and there.

You shifted closer. “Then make me understand.”

That was the breaking point.

…

You didn’t know how you found yourself here.

Your cheek pressed against the wooden desk that had belonged to Dr. Sim, cool against your flushed skin. His hand shoved your face harder into it as he dug into you, his thrusts slow but hard and rough.

“You can’t cum? Yeah?” His voice was lower now, feral, nothing like the calm professional from earlier. “Look at you, wetting my cock up like a good little slut.”

His words alone made your velvet walls contract around his length, and that tingly sensation spread through your body all the way to your fingertips.

“Nngh! I’m cumming again, please—!!” you cried out, the sound muffled against the desk as your hips jolted back into him on instinct.

“Nu uh,” he interrupted gently but firmly, pulling back just enough to keep you on edge, denying you release. “Not yet.”

His fingers gripped your hips, anchoring you even as his cock slipped back inside, slow and measured. The contrast between the roughness of his hands and the tenderness of his restraint made your breath hitch.

You whimpered softly, the overstimulation buzzing under your skin unbearable but deliciously torturous.

“Keep still,” he warned, voice barely more than a growl.

You tried, but every shallow breath and suppressed moan betrayed your craving for more. Your fingers curled into fists on the desk, nails pressing into the wood as you fought the wave of pleasure crashing beneath the surface.

His thrusts grew a fraction faster, but just enough to tease, to keep you on the knife edge of release without plunging you over. His lips brushed your ear, hot and heavy.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, “but you don’t get to cum so easily.”

Your body trembled, clinging to him like a lifeline, desperate, aching. Your walls clenched, pulsing around him, but he held firm, denying you the release you craved.

“I’m cumming,” you gasped, voice trembling. “Please, please let me—”

He growled low in his throat, the restraint snapping, but not quite yet. Instead, he pushed harder, deeper, rougher, claiming you with every brutal thrust.

“Not yet,” he hissed, his hand tightening on your hip, digging in like an anchor. “You’re going to beg for it.”

“You had no problem nearly getting on your knees earlier like a dog for it, yeah?” His voice was low, mocking, but there was an edge in it, a tightness that betrayed how close he was to losing his composure entirely. His hand slid up the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair until he had a firm grip. He tugged, just enough to make your breath catch as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Beg for me again.”

The words burned in your chest, humiliating and thrilling all at once. Your body trembled beneath him, your hands gripping the edge of the desk until your knuckles ached.

“Please,” you whispered, though it came out hoarse and broken. “I need to…I need you to let me.”

His laugh was soft, humorless. “You think you deserve it? After the way you’ve been acting? Spreading your legs so easy, trying to use me to get yourself off like I’m some toy for you.” His hips rolled slow but deep, the thick stretch of him making your thighs quake. “You’re not even trying to hold it back, are you? You’ll just take whatever I give you.”

“Yes,” you gasped before you could stop yourself. “Yes, I’ll take it, I’ll take anything, please—!”

He stilled inside you so suddenly it made your stomach knot. His grip in your hair tightened, forcing your head back slightly as his breath ghosted over your jaw.

“You don’t even care what I think about this, do you?” he murmured, voice dripping with controlled anger. “You just need me to ruin you so bad you can’t even walk out of here.”

You couldn’t answer. Not with how your brain felt like static, your body screaming at him to move, to keep going.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, but the way his cock twitched inside you betrayed him. His restraint was a thin thread now, and it was fraying with every second.

Finally, he pulled back and slammed back into you with enough force to send a sharp cry spilling from your lips. The sound echoed in the quiet office, obscene and raw.

“God,” he groaned, his tone unraveling. “This wet little pussy’s gripping me so fucking tight, you’re not even trying to hold back.”

“I can’t,” you sobbed, your fingers clawing at the polished wood of the desk. “Please, I’m..I’m close again.”

He growled, his pace steady but relentless, every thrust calculated to push you to the brink without letting you tumble over it. “You’re going to take it until I say you can have it. You wanted me to fuck it out of you, yeah? Earn it.”

Your body jolted with each thrust, legs quivering so hard they barely held you up anymore. The overstimulation made your skin feel feverish, a desperate heat building deep in your gut.

“Please! Please, Dr. Sim—”

He slammed into you harder at the sound of his professional name on your tongue, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

“Say it again.”

“Dr. Sim,” you cried, voice breaking, “please let me cum, I’ll do anything, please—”

“You’ll do anything?” he repeated, voice a dangerous growl now. “You’ll let me use you however I want? You’ll come back every week like a good little slut and let me fuck this tight cunt?”

“Yes, yes, I will,” you choked out, your body convulsing, toes curling against the floor as you clung to the desk for dear life.

“Then take it,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his restraint finally snapping as his thrusts turned punishing, brutal. A moan slipping from his lips. “Fucking take it.”

The orgasm tore through you violently, ripping a scream from your throat as your entire body convulsed, trembling under the force of it. Your walls clamped down around him so hard it drew a guttural groan from his chest, and he didn’t stop, he kept driving into you through your climax until your vision blurred, your legs threatening to give out completely.

“Please-! too much!” you whimpered, but his hands held you in place, his pace unrelenting.

“Mhm,” he hummed, as if he wasn’t minding whatever you had said. “You wanted this, wanted me, now you’ll fucking have every drop.”

A few more hard thrusts and he spilled inside you with a deep, rough moan, his hips jerking against your ass as his cock twitched, filling you until it leaked around his length.

You collapsed against the desk, gasping for breath, your mind foggy and body limp.

He stayed there for a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his hands loosened on your hips. When he finally pulled out, the sticky warmth of his release dripped down your thighs.

“Goddammit,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. “This… should never have happened.”

The air in the office was heavy, thick with the scent of sex and faint cologne, and all you could hear was the sound of your own ragged breathing. Your cheek stayed pressed against the wood of his desk, sticky sweat cooling on your skin, your legs trembling violently under you.

You felt him step back finally, his cock sliding out of you with a lewd sound that made heat crawl back up your neck. Warmth dripped down your inner thighs, and you let out a soft, shuddering whimper at the loss of him.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. You didn’t dare move, your body too wrecked and heavy to even try.

Then you heard the rustle of fabric behind you, the soft clink of a belt being threaded back through loops. You didn’t have to look to know he was watching you, still standing there shirt sleeved and buttoned now but not quite collected.

“You should sit down before you fall,” he said finally, his voice low and uncharacteristically hoarse.

You nodded weakly, still not sure your legs would hold, but you pushed back enough to ease yourself down onto the edge of the leather couch across from the desk. The cushions were cold against the bare skin of your thighs.

He crossed the room wordlessly, grabbing a box of tissues from the shelf. Kneeling in front of you, he tugged your knees apart gently, his large hands surprisingly tender now as he started wiping at the mess between your thighs. You flinched at the sensitivity, and his brow furrowed slightly as he murmured,

“Too much?”

You shook your head, biting your lip hard enough to sting. “No,” you whispered.

Still, he was careful with every touch, slow and precise. You couldn’t look at him, not when your heart felt like it was trying to climb up your throat.

When he was done, he balled up the tissues and tossed them in the small bin nearby. Then he reached for your clothes, handing them to you one by one like you were too fragile to move on your own.

“Here,” he said quietly, his tone softer now, though his eyes never quite met yours.

You dressed in silence, your fingers fumbling clumsily at the buttons. You felt like a child under his watchful gaze, though it wasn’t cold like you expected. It was… unreadable.

Once you were clothed, you sat stiffly on the couch, staring at your hands in your lap. The ticking clock on the wall seemed louder now.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he whispered, standing in front of you with his hands buried deep in his pockets. But his voice lacked conviction, like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

“I know,” you whispered. Your throat was dry.

A beat of silence stretched between you.

“You live nearby, right?” His voice startled you, a little softer than before. “Let me take you home.”

You blinked up at him. “You don’t have to—”

“I insist.” His jaw tensed. “You’re in no condition to walk alone.”

Before you could argue, he was already reaching for his keys.

—

The car ride was quiet, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. The streetlights flashed across his sharp profile as he drove, hands tight on the wheel. His expression was unreadable, though every so often his eyes flicked toward you, scanning you like he wasn’t sure you’d stay upright.

When he finally pulled up to your building, he killed the engine but didn’t speak. His knuckles stayed white on the steering wheel.

“You made me break a rule today,” he said lowly, his gaze fixed on the windshield.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt. “I know,” you whispered again.

His head turned then, and for the first time since you left the office, his eyes locked onto yours. Dark, unreadable, but with something even more dangerous beneath those irises.

“Don’t make me break it again,” he said, though there was no weight behind the warning. Not when his gaze flickered briefly to your lips.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening, and nodded silently before slipping out of the car.

But as you closed the door behind you, you could still feel his eyes burning into your back.

—

Monday — 6:29AM

Your ringtone blared through your pin-drop quiet apartment. You groaned from the sudden noise pulling you from your slumber. Reaching over, you grab the device before squinting your eyes at the contact name.

“Dr. Sim (Clinic)”

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button before finally sliding it across.

“Hello?” Your voice was hoarse, still thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” a polite voice chirped. “Is this…?” They verified your name and date of birth before continuing. “I’m calling on behalf of Dr. Sim’s office. I know it’s a Saturday, and the clinic isn’t usually open, but he asked us to confirm some adjustments to your treatment schedule.”

Your brows furrowed slightly as you sat up, brushing hair from your face. “Adjustments?”

“Yes. Dr. Sim recommends increasing your sessions from once a week to three times a week. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at the same time. Would that work for you?”

For a moment, silence stretched. A laugh bubbled up from your chest before you could stop it, soft and incredulous.

“Yeah,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips as you sank back into the pillows. “Yeah, that works for me.”

“Great. We’ll see you Monday.”

The line clicked dead.

You set your phone down on the mattress, staring at the ceiling with a quiet laugh escaping you again.

Three times a week.

You weren’t sure if that was him being professional or something else entirely. But as heat bloomed low in your belly at the thought of facing him again so soon, you didn’t really care.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

A/N : Hiii !! Here’s part 2 of Trust Fall as promised (after 10 years..). Apologies for such a long wait💔I kept writing and deleting, wanted it to be perfect for you guys ! I love you all MWAHH💋.

[leenashiftss]

BURN FOR ME

| “And do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host…”

Pairing: Incubus Nishimura Riki & Lee Heeseung x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Incubus au, Church girl reader, NSFT, Slight horror if you squint

Warnings: Heavy religious themes, Religious Blasphemy, DubCon / Coercion, Somno (kinda??), Breeding, Double Penetration, Unprotected p in v, Mockery of faith, Possessive / Obsessive behavior..kind of.., degradation, Sexually explicit content

Rating: 18+ MDNI

WC: 4k

| You met them in your dreams. They flooded your mind like a hurricane. Those demons made you go against your own morals. Could you resist or surrender to your own personal sin.

A/N: This fic was not made to offend ANYONE! It’s purely fiction !

Heat.

It presses against your skin like silk and smoke, thick and heavy in the air around you. You don’t remember falling asleep, don’t even remember lying down, but here you are, bare beneath sheets that aren’t yours, your body jerking and pulsing, caught between something sinful and sacred.

The figure in front of you drags slow, deliberate fingers down your chest, tracing every contour like they’ve done it a thousand times. Behind you, another body molds against your back, warm and solid, a hand slipping under your thigh to part you wider while the other palms your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple until it’s pebble hard and aching.

Their hands move over you like they know you, every soft spot, every tremble, every breath. One touch smooth and coaxing, the other firmer, rougher, like he’s daring your body to take more.

“Look at her,” the one behind you murmurs, voice curling around your ear like smoke. “So fucking sensitive.”

“She doesn’t even know our names,” the one in front says with a soft, dangerous smile, his eyes glinting like obsidian. “But her body already belongs to us.”

He leans in, his lips brushing your cheek, ghosting over your parted mouth. “You’ll remember me, my love.” he whispers, fingers sliding between your folds, finding you soaked and wanting. He presses in one finger, then two, curling them slow and deep until your back arches and your toes curl.

“‘M Heeseung.”

The name hits your brain like a shiver. You clutch at his arm, the pressure inside you maddening.

The one behind you presses his hips closer, his cock heavy and hard against your ass, grinding just enough to make your breath catch. “Riki” he growls, his voice thicker, darker, hotter than anything you’ve ever heard. His grip slides from your breast to your throat, not choking, just resting, like a reminder. Like a claim. “Say it.”

“Heeseung… mphm- Riki…” you gasp, your head tilting back against his shoulder, lips parted, every nerve strung tight.

“That’s it,” Heeseung purrs. His thumb circles your clit while his fingers pump into you, coaxing you to the edge. “You’re gonna cum for us, aren’t you?”

Your body tightens, the wave rising fast and sharp, white hot and dizzying. You’re right there- right there, nearly undone-

And then-

“WAKE UP.”

The voice cracks like thunder, torn from Riki’s mouth and hurled straight into your skull.

Your eyes fly open.

The room is dark. Still. Cold.

You’re in your own bed, alone. No hands. No mouths. No heat.

Just the hammer of your heart against your ribs. The soaked press of your thighs. The echo of a voice that shouldn’t exist.

Riki.

You stare up at the ceiling, breath ragged, body trembling, and the sharp ache between your legs like punishment. The dream clings to you like sweat, too vivid, too real, too intimate.

You whimper, pulling your thighs apart. The filthy sound of your own slick filled the room, nearly making you shy away from it alone.

You shakily brought your hands together, interlocking them tightly before letting them rest upon your bottom lip.

“D-Dear God…”

—

You’re ashamed, embarrassed.

You walk into the church house as if you weren’t dreaming of two demons digging you from the inside out the night before.

You’ve done everything to try and rid yourself of them.

You’ve prayed. You’ve repented. You’ve been baptized.

Everything according to the book, you’ve done.

But here you were, 4pm Sunday evening. Church is no longer in service. But you walked through the aisle and straight into the confessional, your yellow floral sundress flowing from the slight breeze due to the speed that you walked.

You sat down, placing your baby pink bible on your lap.

Taking a breath, you tried to calm down your heart before you made the sign of the cross. Slowly touching your shoulders, the top of your head, and the middle of your chest.

“Bless me, Father…for I have sinned,” you take a shaky breath, “It has been 10 days since my last confession.”

Not even allowing the priest to respond to you, you began spilling.

“I- The devil..” you nearly sobbed, “He has control of my dreams. I’ve done everything in your name.” You squeeze your hands into fists, tears threatening to spill.

The booth is silent for a long moment, save for your shaky breaths and the quiet creak of wood as you twist the bible tighter in your lap.

“Go on, my child,” Father Michael’s voice comes at last, gentle but firm. “Speak plainly. Unburden yourself.”

“I… I don’t know how,” you admit, your voice breaking. “Every time I close my eyes, they’re there. Touching me. Saying things, awful things…but my body…” You lower your head, your voice dropping to a near whisper. “My body doesn’t fight it. It… wants it. I wake up drenched, shaking, and I-“ Your hands fly to your face, covering your mouth as if that alone could keep the filthy words inside.

“Do not be ashamed to confess,” he says softly. “It is not your fault if evil spirits visit you in your sleep. But you must not let them take root in your heart.”

You nod even though he can’t see, tears slipping hot and fast down your cheeks. “I’ve begged God to cleanse me. But the more I fight it, the worse it gets. I-I can still feel their hands sometimes when I’m awake. Like… like they’ve marked me.”

Father Michael exhales slowly. You can hear the weight in his silence.

“Have you spoken these things aloud before? To anyone?”

You shake your head. “No. I’m scared people will think I’ve gone mad. Or worse—that I want it to happen.”

“You are not mad,” he says firmly. “Nor are you beyond saving. But this-” His voice lowers, grave. “-this is a battle for your soul, child. The Enemy knows your weaknesses. He uses your own flesh against you.”

You flinch, pressing your thighs together beneath your sundress as a shiver of remembered heat licks up your spine.

“Do you… do you think I’m possessed?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not possessed,” he replies after a pause. “But tempted. And temptation is the seed of ruin if left to grow unchecked.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “What should I do?”

“Pray every hour you are able. Fast, if your body can endure it. And I will give you a prayer of protection to say each night before you sleep. It will guard your mind from these unholy visions.”

You nod quickly, relief fluttering weakly in your chest. “Yes, Father. Please. Anything.”

“Return here in three days,” he instructs gently. “We will speak again and strengthen your resolve.”

“Yes… thank you, Father.”

As you stand, knees shaky, you clutch the bible to your chest like a shield. Your fingers fumble for the confessional door.

“And child,” Father Michael calls softly before you leave. “Do not mistake your dreams for sin. The true sin lies only in surrendering to them.”

You nod, throat tight, and push open the door.

The sanctuary greets you in stillness, late afternoon light streaming through stained glass and scattering across the floor like broken jewels. But as you step into the aisle, a faint warmth prickles over your skin, familiar and unwanted.

Like breath against your neck.

Like hands brushing the hem of your dress.

You whip around.

No one there. Only empty pews and flickering votive candles.

You clutch your bible tighter, forcing your legs to move as your heart drums violently in your chest.

—

The rain comes sudden and hard, pelting your sundress until it clings to your skin. You clutch your bible to your chest, head ducked as you hurry down the cracked sidewalk, water running in streams over your sandals. The church’s glow is long behind you, swallowed by the gray hush of the storm.

You spot a faded sign swinging above a narrow door. Eli’s Café. The windows are fogged, warm light spilling out across the wet pavement.

You push the door open, a bell jingling overhead. The scent of coffee and old wood envelops you. Inside, it’s small, worn, and cozy. Wooden tables and mismatched chairs pulled close. A few patrons linger over mugs and plates, their voices low under the sound of rain hitting the roof.

The barista, a tired looking woman with a messy bun and a pink apron glances up. “Sit anywhere, hun. I’ll be with you in a sec.”

You pick a corner table near the window, sliding into the seat. Your fingers worry the leather of your bible as you scan the menu chalked messily on a blackboard.

When the barista comes by, you give a small smile. “Just a chamomile tea, please. And um… the lemon tart.”

“Coming right up.”

You’re halfway through wiping droplets from your bible cover when the door chimes again. You glance up automatically.

Two men step inside, shaking rain from their jackets. Both are tall. One broader, his wet hair falling into his eyes, and the other leaner with sharp cheekbones and a smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Something tightens in your chest. You don’t know why. They’re just… men? But there’s something about the way they move..casual, confident.

The broader one scans the room, frowning slightly when he sees every table occupied, except yours. His gaze flicks to you, and he offers a polite, easy smile.

“Mind if we join you? Place’s full.”

You hesitate. The good, polite girl in you wants to say yes. The part of you still reeling from the confession wants to say no. But your mouth betrays you.

“Of course,” you hear yourself say, voice soft. “Go ahead.”

They slide into the chairs across from you, shaking off their jackets. The barista calls from behind the counter, “What can I get you two?”

“Black coffee,” says the leaner man. “And a slice of that chocolate cake.”

“Same,” says the broader one.

The barista nods and disappears into the back. The leaner man rests his chin in his hand, eyes glittering as they settle on you.

“You don’t look like you belong in a place like this,” he says easily.

Your fingers tighten around your teacup. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Too… clean,” he teases.

You manage a small laugh. “Something like that.”

“Coming from church?” the broader one asks, his voice deeper, smoother.

Your breath hitches, but you nod, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes. I was…” You hesitate. “Confessing.”

His brow arches slightly. “Heavy sins?”

Your cheeks flush hot. “Nothing worth repeating.”

“Mm.” The leaner man tilts his head, watching you closely. “I take you as the type who thinks everything’s worth repenting for.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you take a sip of your tea, letting the warmth anchor you.

Their order arrives, and for a few minutes, conversation flows lightly. Where you’re from, what you do, harmless pleasantries. But there’s a way they speak, it could make anyone feel uneasy.

The broader man’s laugh is low and rich. The leaner one’s smirk never quite fades. And though they never touch you, you can feel their attention on you like a physical weight.

When you’ve both finished, you push your plate away, fingers fumbling with your belongings. “Oh… I uh, didn’t catch your names,” you say, almost out of habit.

They exchange a look. One of those knowing, slow smiles that makes your stomach knot.

The leaner one leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Heeseung.”

The broader one’s lips curve as he adds, “Riki.”

The blood drains from your face.

You’re on your feet before you realize it, gathering your bible and phone with clumsy haste.

“I—I should be going. Thank you for the company.”

“Leaving so soon?” Heeseung drawls.

“Stay a little longer,” Riki adds, his tone mild but his eyes sharp.

But you’re already stepping back, fumbling for the strap of your bag. “Blessed night,” you whisper, voice tight, before turning on your heel.

The bell above the door jingles violently as you push out into the storm.

Rain lashes at your face, cold and cutting, but you barely feel it. Your heart is a drumbeat in your ears.

It’s just a coincidence, you tell yourself, clutching the bible so hard your knuckles ache. Just names. Just names.

The rain is relentless, soaking you to the bone as you stumble down the narrow streets. Your sandals slip on the slick pavement, your dress clinging wetly to your thighs. You clutch your bible to your chest like it’s the only thing tethering you to this world.

Heeseung.

Riki.

The names coil in your mind like snakes. You didn’t even think before asking. You’d spoken aloud to them. Given them that power.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…

Your lips move in frantic whispers as you hurry, reciting prayers under your breath. Your apartment is a few blocks away. Just a few more blocks.

By the time you reach your door, your fingers are numb, fumbling with the keys. You nearly collapse inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

You press your back against it, eyes squeezed shut, heart still galloping.

The apartment is silent except for your ragged breaths and the rain hammering the windows. You peel off your drenched dress, dropping it in a sodden heap on the floor, and grab a towel, rubbing at your body with shaking hands before you slipped on your nightgown.

The bible sits on your nightstand, its leather cover gleaming faintly in the dim light. You grab it like a lifeline and sink onto your knees beside your bed.

“He said to say it every night…”

Your voice quavers as you open to the page Father Michael bookmarked:

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil…”

You force the words past trembling lips, again and again, clutching the pages so tight they crinkle.

”…may God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host…”

But something feels wrong. The room is too warm. The air too thick. Like the walls themselves are leaning in closer, listening.

You swallow hard, continuing louder, more desperate.

”…by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.”

Silence.

You stay kneeling, waiting for some sense of relief, some lightness in your chest. But there’s nothing.

If anything, the heaviness grows.

Your skin prickles as though invisible fingers are brushing your shoulders, your thighs. The faintest hint of smoke curls in the air.

You snap your head around. The apartment is empty. Of course it’s empty.

Shoving down the gnawing fear in your belly, you climb into bed, pulling that leather book to your chest as if it was a shield.

“God is with me,” you whisper fiercely into the dark. “God is with me. God—”

But exhaustion drags you down like a riptide.

. . . .

You’re on your knees again, but not beside your bed. The ground here is soft, warm, red silk puddling beneath your bare skin.

Heat wafts over you, thick and cloying, smelling faintly of smoke and something sweeter.

“You said our names.”

A voice like honey and ash.

Your breath catches. You don’t move. You don’t dare.

Fingers, long and elegant, tilt your chin up.

Heeseung crouches before you, his obsidian eyes glittering, lips curved into a smile that’s equal parts tender and cruel.

Behind you, Riki’s presence is a furnace, his chest pressed to your back, his breath ghosting hot over your ear.

“You remembered us, little lamb,” Riki murmurs. “Good girl.”

“No-!” you choke out. “This… this isn’t real.”

Heeseung laughs softly, tracing your lower lip with his thumb. “Oh, but it is. You invited us back the moment you let our names cross those pretty lips.”

Riki’s hands slide down your arms, firm and possessive. “You prayed so sweetly for protection. Mm. Pity it won’t work anymore.”

You try to jerk away, but they’re already there. Everywhere. Hands, mouths, heat, and hunger.

“No, please, I don’t want-”

“Don’t lie to us, sweetheart.” Heeseung’s fingers slip between your thighs. You’re wet. Shaking. Humiliated. “Your body already knows who you belong to.”

“Let us show you,” Riki growls against your neck. “We’ll make everything right.”

Your voice cracks as they drag you under, the world around you dissolving into heat and red silk.

You wake with a strangled gasp.

The room is dark.

The sheets are twisted around your legs, your skin damp with sweat. Your throat burns from a scream you don’t remember releasing.

It’s fine.

It was just a dream.

You shove the blanket off and sit up, clutching your bible so tight your knuckles ache.

But then you hear it.

A soft scrape. Leather against wood.

Your head jerks to the corner of the room.

Two figures are there.

Seated in your armchair like they belong there.

Heeseung’s long fingers drum idly against the armrest, his obsidian eyes fixed on you, glinting faintly in the dark. Riki sits sprawled beside him, his legs wide, his grin sharp enough to cut glass.

Your breath seizes. Your chest aches.

No. No. This can’t-

“This isn’t real,” you whisper hoarsely.

“Isn’t it?” Heeseung’s voice is silk over steel. He stands slowly, movements smooth, predatory. “You woke up, little lamb.”

“We’re still here~” Riki finishes in a sing-song tone, his voice low and thick as he rises to join him.

You scramble back, your spine hitting the headboard. Your fingers fumble the bible open as you stammer out the first words of a prayer.

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle-”

Your fingers grip the cover tighter as Heeseung shifts in his chair, leaning forward with elbows on his knees.

“Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil…”

Heeseung’s lips twitch. “Go on, little lamb.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, desperate to shut him out.

“May God rebuke him, we humbly pray-”

“And do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host…”

Your eyes snap open.

Heeseung is whispering along with you.

His voice is soft, lilting, almost reverent. But there’s an edge to it, something mocking, something cruel that sends shivers crawling down your spine.

He’s standing now, moving with unhurried grace toward your bed.

“By the power of God, thrust into hell-” you stammer.

“-Satan and all the evil spirits,” Heeseung continues smoothly, his fingers grazing the edge of your blanket.

“Stop,” you breathe, clutching the bible so hard your knuckles ache.

Heeseung ignores you, one knee pressing into the mattress as he climbs up. His dark hair falls into his eyes as he crawls forward, each movement slow, deliberate, predatory.

Riki watches from the corner, his grin widening, eyes glittering like a predator in the dark.

“-Who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.” Heeseung’s voice dips lower as he reaches you, his breath ghosting across your face.

“Amen,” he finishes in a whisper, so close now you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin.

You’re trembling, your back pressed hard to the headboard as his hands bracket your hips, caging you in.

“Do you really think He’s listening?” Heeseung murmurs, tilting his head as his eyes drink you in. “Even after you let our names slip past those sweet lips?”

Your throat works as you shake your head weakly. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“You did,” he says simply. One of his hands rises, stroking the side of your face, thumb smearing away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. “And now?”

“You’re ours.”

That’s all it took before Riki joined the two of them.

One second he was in the corner, a predator content to watch his packmate play with prey. The next, he was a shadow crossing the room, his presence heavy.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until his hand slid beneath your chin, forcing your head up.

“She’s shaking,” Riki murmured, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “So damn pretty like this. Terrified.”

“Don’t worry, my angel,” Heeseung purred against your ear, his fingers finally prying the bible from your vice grip and tossing it carelessly to the floor. “We’ll take good care of you.”

You tried to form words, some desperate plea, some prayer, but they died in your throat as Riki climbed onto the bed, his long legs straddling yours while Heeseung pinned you from behind.

Two sets of hands started exploring at once, Riki’s rougher, sliding up your thighs to bunch the hem of your nightgown around your hips; Heeseung’s smoother, more patient, tracing idle patterns over your stomach and ribs.

“You prayed so hard to keep us out,” Riki said lowly, tugging your panties down your legs and tossing them aside.

“You wanted us to come back,” Heeseung whispered, his fingers rolling your nipples until you arched with a choked sob.

You shook your head violently, but Riki only smirked.

“Your body’s telling on you, angel.” His fingers parted your folds, sliding through your wetness with a slow, almost reverent touch. “You’re soaked.”

“Perfect for us,” Heeseung murmured, his teeth grazing your shoulder.

And then they were both on you. Riki slowly pressed two fingers inside, curling them deep as Heeseung’s hand slid to your throat, holding you still while his other teased your clit in slow, agonizing circles.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, a sob tearing from your lips.

“That’s it, let go,” Riki coaxed, his thumb joining Heeseung’s to work your clit harder. “Let us hear how sweet you sound when you break.”

“P-please…” You couldn’t tell if it was a plea for mercy or more. Your nails dug crescents into the sheets as your hips jerked helplessly, every muscle taut and straining.

“Oh, she’s trying so hard to be good,” Heeseung murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Fighting us even when her body’s giving us everything.”

“Say your prayers, angel,” Riki crooned, his fingers curling deeper. “Let’s hear ‘em.”

You swallowed hard, tears pricking at your lashes as you whispered, “H-Hail Mary, full of grace-”

But Heeseung cut in, finishing it for you in a low, velvety tone as his lips brushed your jaw: “-the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women…” His teeth grazed your earlobe. “And blessed is the fruit of thy womb…”

“Jesus,” Riki finished mockingly, smirking down at you as his fingers thrust harder, the wet sound lewd in the stillness. “Amen.”

A sob tore from your throat. “N-no—stop—I c-can’t—”

But they weren’t listening.

Heeseung’s hand tightened at your throat, not enough to hurt, just enough to make your head feel light as he whispered, “Shh. You can. You will.”

Riki’s free hand fisted in your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “Fuck, she’s dripping, Hee. You feel that?” His fingers curled again, hitting that spot so perfectly your back arched.

“She’s ready for more.” Heeseung’s voice was pure silk now, dangerous and sweet all at once. “Ready for me.”

Your nightgown bunched higher as Riki tugged it over your head, leaving you bare. The cool air hit your damp skin, your nipples pebbled and aching. Heeseung’s palms cupped your breasts as if weighing them in his hands.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he murmured, pinching a nipple until you gasped.

“Perfect,” Riki agreed darkly, dragging his fingers free of you and smearing your wetness across your inner thigh. “Bet she feels even better wrapped around us.”

You tried to scramble away, but Heeseung’s arms locked around you, dragging you flush against his chest as he shifted, putting you both on your side, positioning himself between your thighs.

“Relax, angel,” he said, nudging his cock against your entrance. “We’ll make it feel good.”

“Please-”

But your protest melted into a cry as he pushed in, slow but relentless, stretching you open inch by inch.

“F-fuck,” Heeseung groaned, head dropping to your shoulder. “So tight… she’s perfect.”

You buried your face in the sheets, trying to hold back the sounds threatening to escape, but Riki was there, tilting your chin up with two fingers.

“No hiding,” he said coolly, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Wanna hear every little noise.”

Heeseung’s hips rolled, setting a steady pace, every thrust forcing a soft cry from you as his hands roamed, fisting in your hair, palming your breasts, fingers circling your clit again.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Taking me so well.”

Riki watched hungrily, his cock hard and straining against his jeans as he undid his belt. “Think she’s ready for both of us?”

“Not yet,” Heeseung said, his voice tight with control. “Wanna see her cum first.”

“She’s close.” Riki’s eyes dropped to where you were trembling between them, your slick dripping down Heeseung’s cock with every thrust. “Aren’t you, angel? Gonna make a mess for us?”

You shook your head, tears slipping free. “I-I’m not,”

“Liar,” Riki whispered, his thumb slipping into your mouth. “Bite me and I’ll make it hurt. Suck.”

Instinctively, you closed your lips around him, and he groaned low in his chest.

“Fuck, look at her,” Heeseung growled, speeding up, his hips slapping against yours. “Such a nasty slut.”

His words made your orgasm hit hard, white hot, ripping through you with a broken scream around Riki’s thumb.

“There’s our good little angel,” Riki purred. “Now it’s my turn.”

Heeseung pulled out slowly, watching the way you clenched around nothing, and Riki didn’t waste a second. He shoved Heeseung onto his back, manhandling you into his lap as he lined himself up.

He growled, slamming into you in one brutal thrust.

You sobbed, nails clawing at his shoulders as he set a brutal pace, one hand gripping your hip while the other wrapped your throat.

“So tight- fuck- squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go,” Riki groaned, biting at your collarbone.

Heeseung sat up behind you, hands spreading your cheeks. “Think she can take both of us?”

Riki’s eyes darkened. “She better.”

Before you could protest, Heeseung pressed his cock against your ass, slicking the tip with your arousal.

“No, wait- I can’t-!”

“Yes, you can,” Heeseung breathed against your ear. “Be a good girl and open up for us.”

With slow, steady pressure, he breached you, and the stretch burned, two thick cocks filling you to the brim until you felt split in half.

“Holy- fuck- ” Riki hissed, his hands gripping your thighs as Heeseung bottomed out. “So fuckin’- ngh,” he whimpered.

You couldn’t form words, only choked sobs and broken cries as they moved rhythmically, Riki thrusting up as Heeseung pulled back, then switching, keeping you full at all times.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Heeseung whispered. “Say it.”

You shook your head, tears falling freely.

Riki’s hand clamped over your mouth. “Say. It.”

“Mphm-! Feels- good!” you sobbed against his palm, your body trembling violently.

“That’s our girl,” Heeseung purred, kissing the shell of your ear.

They fucked you like they had all night, their pace unrelenting, your body nothing but a vessel for their pleasure until you felt yourself unravel completely.

“Come on baby,” Riki demanded, his fingers rubbing your clit.

You shattered with a scream, walls clenching tight around them both as they fucked you through it.

“Fuck- gonna fill you up- ” Heeseung growled, and you felt the hot rush of his release seconds before Riki spilled inside you too, their combined heat leaking out as they finally stilled.

You collapsed forward, trembling, skin damp with sweat and tears.

But they weren’t done..

—

The sun was barely breaking the horizon when you stepped out of your apartment. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, but the streets were still wet, glistening like black glass under the faint morning light.

Your body ached in ways you couldn’t name, thighs trembling with every step, the insistent throb between your legs a humiliating reminder of what you had let them do.

No.

What you begged them to do.

You tugged your coat tighter around yourself, but it couldn’t hide the slight limp in your walk, the tender soreness deep in your core. Every shift of fabric against your raw, oversensitive skin felt like penance.

By the time the church came into view, your chest was tight, your breath fogging in the cool air.

It was too soon.

He said three days.

But here you were.

You slipped inside, the heavy wooden doors creaking softly behind you, and crossed the empty sanctuary on unsteady legs. The scent of incense clung to the air, wrapping around you like a ghost as you made your way to the confessional booth.

The door closed with a quiet click, sealing you in.

You knelt, folding your hands automatically though they still bore faint crescent-shaped marks from gripping the sheets too hard.

A rustle on the other side of the screen. Then his warm, measured voice.

“My child, it hasn’t been three days. Why have you returned so soon?”

You swallowed hard, throat dry, heart pounding.

Your voice came out soft, hoarse, shaken.

“Father… I’ve surrendered to my sins..”

[leenashiftss]

Accidentally set the last one for 1 week…..

Anyways.

Which one do you guys want first?🤭

[leenashiftss]

3 STRIKES-C.YJ

"Can you free me? It's a prison inside my mind."

Synopsis✧˖°. You and Choi Yeonjun have been friends since you started college, but you can't deny the feelings you have towards him that only get stronger with time. He's not helping, either. Not with his constant flirting and not-so-subtle touchiness. You tell yourself its just who he is, and this is all you'll ever be, but what happens when emotions boil over?

Rating: 18+ MDNI

WC: 5.7k CW: pwp, penetration, oral(fem and male receiving), praise, degradation, fingering, quickie, dom!yeonjun, sub!reader

⋆˙⟡ ⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡ ⋆⋆˙⟡ ⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡ ⋆

You don’t really know when it started. 

The tension between you and Yeonjun, you mean. It started off as a little flirty comment here and there. A wink. An accidental brush of the hand…when did it turn into more? 

The two of you had been in the same friend group since your freshman year of college. You can’t deny that you’d always been attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? The pretty curve of his jaw, those plush red lips, those sexy fox eyes. He was irresistible. You’re sure that you aren’t the only person who thinks so. You couldn’t ignore the feeling you’d get every time he held eye contact with you, or when he complemented your outfit. Especially after you broke up with your ex. You always hoped for more. Somehow you got it.

Yeonjuns fraternity was hosting a party, so you were invited by default. You remembered your outfit clearly: a white bedazzled cropped tee with a short denim skirt, coupled with leather boots. You looked hot, your friend Yunjin made sure to note. You knew it. Yeonjun knew it too. Neither of you drank that night, but perhaps you two were intoxicated by the intense feeling of desperation you shared. At first it was innocent dancing, at least until someone bumped into you causing you to spill your ginger ale all over your shirt. 

——

“Hey!” You shout in annoyance. You turn around, but before you could catch the culprit, they disappeared into the crowd. 

“I have something you could change into.” Yeonjun says, eyes glued to your soiled shirt. Embarrassment creepes onto your cheeks. You know your shirt was see through at this point, hot pink bra peeking through the useless fabric. Yeonjun drapes his jacket over you as he leads you up the stairs and into his room.

You take a seat on the edge of Yeonjun’s bed, watching as he shuffles through the clothes in his closet. You can’t help but be tense. You’ve been over the house before, numerous times. But this time was different. You were in his room, on his bed, alone with him. To make matters worse, you might as well be half naked. Eyes still glued to the slender frame of your close friend, your mind begins to wander. There was nothing really stopping him from shoving you down from where you sat and having his way with you. You imagine how he’d look hovering over you, chains dangling in your face as he pleasured you in any way he saw fit. You were soaked at the thought of it. 

“Y/N?” Yeonjun says as he looks over his shoulder. You mentally curse yourself as you snap out of your lewd thoughts. “You want a shirt or a hoodie?” He asked.

“A shirt is fine” you respond. You feel way too hot for a hoodie anyways. 

“It’ll be a little big on you,” he begins as he hands one of his graphic tees to you. “Although you look good in anything.” He remarks.

There it was again. The subtle flirting. You were way too horny not to take it seriously. The rational part of your brain was completely shut off at this point. “Do you mean it?” You question, eyes trailing his figure as he turns around, presumably so you could change in peace. “Yeah, you’re hot” he said nonchalantly as he ran a hand through his raven locks. “But you know that don’t you, pretty girl?” He says, glancing back in your direction. Your hungry gaze falls on his lips. 

“Then come kiss me.” 

As if you just said a magic word, Yeonjun met you on the bed and crashed his lips onto yours. Grabbing your wrists, he deepened the kiss. It felt like a fever dream. Yeonjun began prodding at your bottom lip for entrance, to which you obliged. He hummed in satisfaction as he licked into your mouth, tasting the remnants of long forgotten ginger ale on your tongue. Yeonjun pulls back, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. 

“If you don’t tell me to stop now, then I don’t think I’ll be able to at all, Y/N.” Yeonjun whispered, his eyes hooded and glazed over with lust. His tongue darting out slowly to circle his lips. “Who said I want you to?” You responded.

And with that, you had permanently sealed your fate.

Before you knew it, the side of your face was pressed into his mattress, ass in the air as he hovered behind you. Your panties were long discarded. “How bad did you want me, baby?” Yeonjun asks rhetorically as he runs a finger through your wet folds. “So wet for me, pretending to be my innocent friend all so you could fuck me.” You tried to object him but he plunges two fingers into you, effectively shutting you up. You aren’t  willing to go down without a fight though, even despite the delicious stretch of his fingers in your greedy cunt. “That was you,” you say defiantly between moans. “You flirt with me all the time and act like—like it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing”. Yeonjun says in a low tone, leaning down towards your ear as he continues working you open on his fingers. “I’ve been dreaming about fucking your pretty little ass since I first laid eyes on you.” You moan out helplessly as he curls his fingers inside of you. “Jjunie-“ you squeak, clenching around him. “And you wanted it just as bad as I did.” He says, pulling his fingers out of you.

Pulling back, Yeonjun sits on his knees and leans forward as he hikes your skirt up on your waist and spreads your thighs open. He begins peppering kisses on your legs, everywhere but where you need it most. You groanin frustration.

“Such a brat, Y/N. Be patient.” Yeonjun whispered against your plush skin. “It’s hard” you whine in response, pushing your hips back in an attempt to gain more friction. “Yeah, I am.” Yeonjun chuckles at his joke, earning another annoyed whine from you. Yeonjun removes his mouth from your legs and begins licking long stripes down your slit, causing your legs to buckle. He puts an arm around your waist to stabilize you as he continues to eat you out. 

Yeonjun is relentless, tongue fucking you like his life depended on it. Uncaring whether or not anyone could hear the pornographic sounds he was producing. He was sloppy, eating you out as if he were starved. He kisses at your hole occasionally before diving back in, causing you to gush with arousal: you were approaching your limit. “Yeonjun—fuck I’m gonna” you moan out, signaling your approaching release. He pulls away from your core abruptly. You whine out again, turning your head to look at him. The sight is sinful; black locks glued to his forehead with sweat and chin dripping with your arousal. His tongue rested on his bottom lip. 

He began unbuckling his belt, jeans falling to the ground as you get sight of his boner peeking out of his boxers. “On your knees baby.” He demands as he fully undresses and stands near the Edge of his bed. You waste no time. Yeonjun slaps the red tip of his cock on your spit soaked lips, perversely grinning at the sound it makes. You open your lips willingly, taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. Yeonjun almost cums instantly, throwing his head back at the feeling coupled with the obedient expression on your face. “Fuck baby, you’re gonna make me lose it.” He growls as you begin bobbing your mouth on his dick, trying not to break eye contact. 

Yeonjun doesn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time. Watching the way your eyebrows twitched upwards and how your eyes pathetically brimmed with tears as he thrusted into your mouth. The sight alone made him feel the urge to cum down your throat. He resisted, though. He needed to be inside of you first.

“I can’t take this anymore.” Yeonjun groans. Slowly pulling his throbbing cock from your lips. 

“Stand up for me baby.” Yeounjun says as he reaches for his nightstand, fishing out a condom

from one of the drawers. Noticing your willingness, he grabs you by the hips and pulls you into a deep kiss. “Such a good girl for me.” he mumbles into your lips, his affirmation going straight to your aching core. 

“Jjun— Yeonjun please,” you beg, bucking your hips up towards his dick. Yeonjun throws back his head as he lets out a shaky sigh. “Fuck—Jjunie’s gonna take good care of you, baby”.

Yeonjun switches places with you, positioning himself behind you as he places a hand on the small of your back. He pushes you back down onto the bed, positioning your legs so that you were perfectly arched for him. He pauses behind you, ripping the condom wrapper off with his teeth and groaning as he rolls it onto his dick. 

Yeonjun attempts to start slow, sliding the tip of his cock through your folds teasingly—savoring the feeling of your raw desperation. You mewl pathetically as you buck your hips back onto him. He mutters a curse as he abruptly snaps his hips into yours, causing you to lurch forward with a strangled moan before he grabs onto your hips and fucks into you roughly. “Quit running, Y/N,” Yeonjun says through gritted teeth. “You wanted this, right? So take it.” He demands. You only moan in response, gripping the black sheets beneath you. 

Your arms buckle as you loose strength, letting your head meet his sheets. Yeonjun doesn’t care. Instead, he grabs a fistful of your hair, deepening the arch in your back. You choke out a moan as your eyes fill with tears at the combination of pleasure and pain. Every part of your brain that’s telling you that this is wrong,, and that you shouldn’t be fucking Choi Yeonjun has been effectively turned into mush. You couldn’t help it,, not with his length stretching you so deliciously. This only turned Yeonjun on more. His eyes didn’t miss the drool falling from your lips or the way your half lidded eyes fluttered with each stoke of his dick. 

Yeonjun pulls out of your core abruptly, causing you to whine loudly. “Patience, baby” Yeonjun growls as he flips you over, wincing at the sight of your sopping, fucked-open pussy. He grabs the back of your knees and pushes them up towards your ears. Sliding back into your pussy, he stares into your eyes. The primal look in his own causing you to clench around his length. Yeonjun continues to study your face as he pumps himself in and out of you. 

“So fucking pretty. Pretty little thing.” He rambles. “Yeonjun—“ you whine at his praise. Yeonjun leans down, licking and biting at your lips until you open them enough for him to devour you. 

The kiss is everything that the sex is. Wet, messy, hungry. He doesn’t stop at just your mouth; trailing down your neck and leaving hickeys in his wake. “Jjun—jjun ‘s gonna leave a mark,” you whimper. “Dont care, mine” he groans, eyebrows furrowed as he leans back to admire his work. You moan at the new angle, clenching deliciously around him. You feel your orgasm building in your lower stomach. “Yeonjun!” You moan out, squinting your eyes shut in pleasure. “I know, eyes on me baby. You can do it”. He coos. You oblige, looking at him pitifully, tears staining your cheeks. Your orgasm hits you hard, moaning loudly as your hips spasm and head falls back onto the bed. The clench of your cunt causes Yeonjuns hips to stutter. “Hah-“ he breathes out, increasing his pace much to your discomfort. You don’t protest, you take it. You asked for it after all. It’s not long before he cums with a deep moan, fucking his release into the condom. Yeonjun slides out of you, mesmerized by the way your hole leaks in the absence of his dick. 

“Stay the night.” Yeonjun mumbles, meeting your eyes. His dark hair remained disheveled as he slid his boxers and pants back on. There was no way you were going back to being just friends. 

———

You’ve always fantasized about being in Choi Yeonjun’s bed, but never waking up in it. You expected to wake up in your dorm, but when met with the smell of cologne and a face full of black sheets you realized that this was not the case. 

“Y/NNNNN, good morningggg~” Yeonjun says nonchalantly upon noticing your movement. You look over towards the source of the noise, and there he is. Choi Yeonjun clad in loose plaid pajama pants and no shirt. He lies next to you on the bed, propped up against his headboard as he aimlessly scrolls on his phone.

“Yeonjun!” You squeak, instinctively distancing yourself before remembering the night you two shared. “Oh…” you trail off as your face flushes with pink. 

Yeonjun gives a knowing smirk, which honestly kind of pisses you off. You let it slide because he looks so damn good, but that’s beside the point. You slide out of bed with a sigh, wobbling a little as you gather your discarded undergarments. 

“Need help?” Yeonjun asks as he looks over at your obviously sore state. “Im fine,” you pout. He chuckles at your stubbornness. You get dressed (in the shirt he lent you, of course) and moved towards the door. 

“I—I’m gonna leave, okay?” You call out tentatively. 

“It’s 8am on a Saturday. Why not stay a little longer?” Yeonjun asks, quirking an eyebrow up. You bite your lip. Obviously it was because you couldn’t cope with the fact that your close friend just blew your back out. You needed at least little time to debrief. 

“I have plans!” You call back, unwilling to meet his eyes. You hurriedly leave his bedroom and attempted to exit the house as quietly as possible. After walking through what seemed like piles of red cups, you finally made it outside. You can breathe again. You take out your phone and call an uber back to your side of the campus. 

——

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Yunjin’s voice rang through your ears after opening the door to your dorm room. You give a knowing sigh. “I…promise you won’t get mad if I tell you what I was up to?” You say giving her a sheepish smile. 

Yunjin crosses her legs and spins around in her office chair. “What makes you think I already don’t know?” She laughs at the puzzled expression on your face. “Yeonjun texted me last night, said you were staying over at his place.” She explains. “Now tell me, what really went down?” You get comfortable on your chair as you start recounting the events of last night.

“Well my shirt got wrecked and he offered me his clothes and then one thing led to the next and—well yeah you get the gist.” You ramble.

Yunjin sighs, a playful smirk appearing on her face. “So…now what? I doubt you two will go back to being regular friends. I can’t say that the tension during hangouts won’t be entertaining, though.” 

You pause to think for a second. “I mean, he was so casual when we woke up, so I don’t think anything else is gonna happen. Of course I think he’s sexy, funny, talented, sweet-“ 

“So basically you’re head over heels. Great.” She interrupts. You begin to deny her accusation, but the words die on your tongue. You’ve had a crush on Yeonjun for a while, but you had gaslit yourself into believing that you were only ever just going to be friends. Now that you’ve already had sex, your brain is sort of malfunctioning.

You rest your forehead in the palm of your hands with a heavy sigh. “I want to date him, don’t I?” You ask rhetorically. 

“Yuuuuup” affirms Yunjin. There was no way this was realistically going to end well. Yeonjun was known for being a free spirited frat boy. He always did whatever he wanted—or rather, whoever he wanted. You were sure that the night you two shared was another example of his reckless behavior. 

Noticing your dejectedness, Yunjin prodded at you for details, something indicating that you were different. “Did he say anything alarming while you two were…you know?” 

You look up from your palms and think back again. “I mean…he said he’s been wanting to fuck me for a while” you admit shyly. “And he said I was his…which had to just be bedroom talk…right?” 

Yunjin looks at you, shock evident on her face.

“Y/N, you might just have a chance. Of course we both know how flirty Yeonjun is, and the fact that he’s basically a walking rhino pill,” you chuckle at her description. “But calling you his is crazy! And you even spent the night. Usually he just gets his nut off and they get the boot.” You internally wince.

“One things for certain, though. This likely won’t be the last time you two are involved with eachother like this.” Yunjin finishes, turning her attention back to her laptop.

Good lord. You think to yourself as you prepare to shower. 

——-

The next two weeks went by like normal, other than the time you spent scrambling to find tutorials on how to cover up hickeys. You still gave a nod or wave to Yeonjun whenever you passed him. On campus. He still sat next to you in the library when you studied. You still ate lunch with your friend group, him included. 

The only difference—it felt like—was you. The heat you felt between your legs when he got close enough to where you could smell his cologne. When you saw his face and all you could think of was the sight of him behind you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes heavy. When he called out your name and you wished he was back to calling you “baby” instead. The Worst of it all came late at night when you couldn’t sleep. The memory of Yeonjun fucking you played over and over in your head, only worsening your condition.

It was secretly tormenting you, and Yeonjun acted completely normal. 

The both of you couldn’t run from the truth for too long, and it truly hit the fan when Yeonjun invited the friend group over to host yet another party.

You sat in your bed, watching YouTube videos on your laptop lazily until you heard a loud *ding* come from your phone. Opening your phone, you see that it’s a notification from your shared groupchat.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

GETTING DRUNK TOMORROW, TOGETHER 

———————————————————————

Yeonzzn🦊: hang out @ my place 2morrow byoe I’m poor lol

Soobin: hang out or party? Is this casual or r u inviting the whole campus again?

Soobin: If I see one more red cup I’m gonna lose it

Hyuka🪽: Will the huzz be in attendance 

Gyu: ^Lmk cs I’m trying to get my dick wet lol

Chaewon: TMI.

Yunjin: I’ll go if Y/N goes.

                                                                         ……

╰━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╯

You sigh as you put your phone down, not mentally ready to go sit somewhere with Yeonjun for an extended period of time. You turn your attention back to your video.

A couple minutes pass by before you get another loud notification from your phone. You grab your phone realize it’s from Yeonjun. Your heart drops. Reluctantly, you open the message. It was simple. Just one question.

“You comin?”

You stared at your phone as you struggled to find the words to reply to him. Flipping over onto your side, you begin typing up a response.

“Maybe”

It was the truth. You didn’t know if you even felt up to it, but on the other hand it felt odd if you didn’t go. It was mostly just a normal hang out…right?

The bubble indicating that Yeonjun was typing appeared, then disappeared. And then it appeared again. You stared at your phone screen with nervous curiosity. Then, he responded.

“U should come”

…

“I wanna see you”

That’s all it took for you to throw your phone down on your sheets. There’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. You think to yourself. You pick up your phone and type out a simple “I’ll think about it.” Yeonjun liked the message, and that was that.

—

With a frustrated sigh, Yeonjun threw his head against the backrest of the couch. He set his phone down beside him as if to erase whatever he just did. 

“Whats got you so agitated?” His friend Soobin asks, leaning forward against the backrest and noting his friend’s distant gaze. 

“It’s nothing.” Yeonjun lies.

“Let me guess…Y/N?” Soobin says with a cheeky grin. With an agitated swiftness, Yeonjun sits up abruptly and meets Soobin’s eyes.

“You fucked her and now she won’t look at you? You want more? Or-“ Yeonjun’s eyebrows twitch in annoyance as Soobin lists (with a stupid grin) all the ways he could be in trouble with you. 

“Oh shut up, will you? Yes we had sex…” he trails off, “But it’s gone back to normal and it’s kind of pissing me off.”

Soobin quirks up an eyebrow. “Isn’t that sort of your thing, though? I’ve never known you to be the type to keep a girl around for more than one night.” 

“That’s the thing though. Im bad with feelings and commitment. All I know is that I want her. Badly. All to myself.” 

Soobin winces, his face dropping into a more pitying smile. Yeonjun’s last relationship didn’t end well. Him and his ex girlfriend broke up his senior year of high school. Partly because of all of the false promises that young couples tend to make to one another, but mostly because his then-girlfriend cheated on him. Since then, Yeonjun has been wildly avoidant of relationships, or anything that could get him emotionally hurt. 

“Sounds a bit…possessive no? You know the type of girl she is. Gotta give it to you, I was surprised that you were able to get in her pants in the first place.” 

“Geez man how did you even know about that in the first place?” Yeonjun asks, only to be met with a sheepish shrug from the taller male. “Saw her as she was leaving last week.” He simply stated. Yeonjun just shakes his head dismissively. 

“Regardless of your feelings, she’s still our friend. You’ve got to be careful not to hurt her. Especially after him.” Soobin warns. 

Yeonjun scowls at the mention of your ex. That scumbag never treated you right. Yeonjun was often the one to pick you up when he flaked you for dates, and often saw the two of you arguing. He still remembers your pained expression and teary eyes during an argument he witnessed. It took everything in him not to beat that guys face in. There was no doubt; Yeonjun cares about you. He just didn’t know if he would be able to face his fears.

—

When you said that you’d “think about it”, you truly had no plans of going to Yeonjun’s little get together.

So why were you getting ready? Simple answer: Yunjin. Despite her nonchalant response, she actually wanted to go. Something about missing Beomgyu and how flirting with him was “good practice”. 

Whatever, you thought. 

Eyeing yourself in the mirror, you realized that the marks Yeonjun had left were finally gone. You run your fingers over the delicate skin of your neck almost triumphantly. As if to celebrate, you decided to throw on a gray off the shoulder sweater. It was casual enough but also cute and comfy. Just so that you didn’t overheat in the unpredictable fall weather, you threw on a black skirt as well.

“Someone looks cute!” Yunjin called out, eyeing your figure. “All this for Yeonjun?” You just sigh, hugging yourself awkwardly. Mentally knowing that she was right.

“Come on let’s just go.” You say defeatedly. This was going to be a long night. 

The ride to his house was casual, and mostly consisted of Yunjin yapping about the new group she started stanning. “No seriously Y/N. Jooheon is SO perfect. He’s like a big teddy bear-with muscles and sexy eyes!” She says dreamily as she scrolls on Pinterest looking at ‘boyfriend material’ pictures of the idol. You just chuckle. Honestly, you enjoyed hearing her fangirl rants. It was kind of endearing. Your body jolted forwards a little as your uber driver came to a halt. Heart racing in your chest, you unbuckled yourself and opened the door handle. 

The sight you were met with was nothing unfamiliar. You were no stranger to TXT’s frat house. In fact, you’ve been there more times than you could count; The elaborate house became sort of a second home away from your dorm. 

This time though, it was different. The last time you had been there was when you were face down ass up on Yeonjun’s bed with a mouthful of his sheets. You mentally facepalm yourself. Unfortunately, it was a bit too late to ask ‘why did I do this to myself?’ You sucked up your pride and tentatively knocked on the door, Yunjin’s hand in yours. You heard shuffling and muffled laughter on the other side of the door, your patience growing thin as the cold autumn breeze tickled your neck. 

Suddenly, the doorknob began to turn and you braced yourself for whoever you may see on the other side. The door opened and the two of you were greeted by a tall male figure looming over you. Kind eyes scanned your figures for a second before a cute smile formed on his face. 

“Y/N, Yunjin!” Hueningkai beamed. “Welcome in!” 

He stepped out of the way to let the two of you in before pulling the both of you in for a hug. 

“Hi, Hyuka!” The both of you chirped. Releasing you from his hold, he led the way into the living room.

When you arrived, the rest of the guys were engaged in some heated discussion about who was better at Super Smash Bros. You sucked your teeth at their childishness, which did not go undetected by the bickering males. 

“Oh heeeey you guys!” Beomgyu exclaimed. He made his way over to where you stand and sandwiched himself between you and Yunjin. He then lazily draped one of his toned arms around each of your shoulders. 

“Ok, I have a serious question for the both of you.” He began, obviously on bullshit. You quirked an eyebrow up to humor him. 

“Who’s the best smash player out of all of us?”  He demanded. You and Yunjin looked at each other once, and then at him, then back at each other. 

 “Odi.” The two of you said in unison, earning a chorus of groans from the men. The mention of the beloved frat pet immediately extinguished their fire. Beomgyu slumped down in defeat and made his way back to where he was sitting before beckoning you to join them, you scan the couch for empty seats. Sitting down were Kai, Taehyun, Soobin, Beomgyu… Yunjin plopped down next to him, so that seat was taken. Next to her sat Yeonjun, and then an empty space. She playfully nudged him over and patted the now empty spot next to her, leaving you sandwiched between the two of them. A little devil she was. 

You sat down next to Yeonjun and formally greeted everyone. 

“Welcome back, Y/N,” Yeonjun said to you lowly with a smirk. Your eyes met his and darted away instantly. You let out a shaky “thanks,” fingertips curling under the sleeves of your sweater. He chuckled slightly at your nervousness. 

The party rolls on and a couple more people pool in the room, mostly some friends and acquaintances. As the night advances, you can’t help but become increasingly focused on Yeonjun. The laugh ripping from his throat. The smell of his cologne. The way he had his arm draped around the sofa—just enough to barely brush the back of your neck. Your senses were clouded with him.

At some point in the night when Taehyun’s drank a little too much and Beomgyu is, well—Beomgyu—the rowdy group decides that they want to play truth or dare. You make a mental note that you intended on only picking dares because at this particular moment you had quite a bit to hide. 

“OOOOKAY!” Yujin announces. It was her turn to ask. Yunjin spins the bottle hard, and much to your dismay it ends up pointing at you. She snickers devilishly as you squirm in your sweat uncomfortably as you await her inevitable punishment.

“Y/N my love! Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.” Yujin’s smile widens and you suddenly regret your answer. 

“I dare youuuuu~” she pauses as if to think, “to play 7 minutes in heaven with Choi Yeonjun!” You stare at her wide eyed as she winks at you from her seated position in Beomgyu’s arm. This earns a series of “oohs” and “aahs” from the messy group. 

“Just go in his room, we’ll come get you two when the time is up.” Beomgyu chimes in. You just sigh. You look over to Yeonjun who has the same pouty smirk on his face that he always has, and begrudgingly follow him to his room.

You hear the game continue on loudly as you disappear up the steps. You almost get Deja Vu from his motions—inviting you in and locking the door.  You don’t sit on his bed this time. Yeonjun makes his way to where you’re standing awkwardly in the middle of his room. You realize that he’s not even looking in your eyes, he’s looking at your neck. 

“It’s gone, huh?” He asks rhetorically. His eyes slowly trailing up to meet your own. You nod. 

“Do you miss it? Did you miss me?” He asks, directly this time. You bite your lip as you look up at him, the hairs on your neck standing up. More slowly this time, you nod again. Yeonjun tuts.

“Uh-uh, use your big girl words Y/N.” 

A whimper slips past your lips. You let out a shaky sigh. “Yes, Yeonjun.”

“Yes what?” He takes a step closer to you and wraps an arm around your waist.

“Both—I miss both.” you say, knees buckling under his support. He hums as he leans in for a kiss, moving his lips slowly against yours. His tongue juts out, and you willingly open your mouth to deepen the kiss. He pulls away with a dazed expression and dives down to kiss down your neck. You moan when he puts his lips on a specific spot—where he left you a hickey last time. He nips and licks your neck like it’s his prerogative to find all your most sensitive spots.

“I’ll be good this time,” he mumbles against your skin, “only mark you up where people can’t see.” 

Yeonjun pulls down your sweater enough to reach the plush skin that peeks out of your bra. Like clockwork, he attaches his lips to the sensitive area, sucking harshly and releasing your skin with a ‘pop ’. Uncaring of the mewls you’re releasing, He keeps doing so until your chest is littered with purple-red splotches. His signature. You were dripping by the time he was done with you, slick clinging to your lace panties and making its way onto your thighs.

“All better?” Yeonjun remarks as he pulls away from your chest to look at you. His cock throbs at the sight of your worked up state. Panting and flushed with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You nod lazily and grab onto his shoulders, pulling him close to you for any sort of friction. 

Catching the drift, Yeonjun sneaks his hands down to your thighs. “Y/N you know we don’t have the time.” He whispers, faces mere centimeters apart. “Please?” You beg. He can’t resist.

Yeonjun backs you up against the door to his bedroom and puts a knee between your quivering legs for easy access. His hands begin hiking your skirt up on your waist.

He chuckles. “You love wearing skirts for me huh? Saves me the trouble.” You frantically shake your head no. “That’s not-“ you begin to retaliate as Yeonjun slides your panties to the side. “Hmm?” He asks, only to be met with shaky breaths. “Come on Y/N, talk to me. It’s not what?” He asks as he lazily slides a fingertip up and down your wet folds. You moan in response. “That’s not—ngh—that’s not why…” He chuckles. 

“I’m just teasing.” He says with a grin before sliding two fingers into your awaiting hole. You moan loudly and jolt as you get reacclimatized to the feeling of Yeonjun’s long fingers inside of you. He curls them deliciously, prodding at your G spot with ease. You can’t help but whimper and mewl around him.

“Shh, wouldn’t want them to hear your sweet moans baby. Those are mine, okay?” You nod with glossy eyes as you clamp a hand around your mouth at his command.

“Such a good girl, you always listen to me so well don’t you?” You stifle a moan, clenching around his fingers at the praise. “Y-yes Yeonjun.”

He slips another finger in you, causing your eyes to roll back and knees to buckle. You moaned into your hand. His face was dangerously close to yours, studying the way you fell apart for him, so deliciously vulnerable. Suddenly, the two of you hear stairs creaking. 

“They’re coming. I need you to cum soon, can you do that? Can you cum for me?” He asks.

You nod frantically in response as he brings a thumb up to play with your clit. It’s not long before your orgasm hits, and Yeonjun continues to fuck you with his fingers until he’s satisfied. You crash into his chest to stifle your moans as you make a mess on his fingers. Someone knocks on the door.

“Times up!” Soobin calls out. 

“We’ll be out in a second!” Yeonjun responds half-heartedly.

 Soobin just sighs and makes his way back down the stairs. 

You look up at Yeonjun with teary eyes, letting out a broken moan as he slides his fingers from your heat. Maintaining eye contact, he sucks his  fingers deeply before releasing them to stick one in your mouth. You oblige, swirling a tongue around the digit. He pulls away and looks deep into your eyes—as if he was searching for something. Any confirmation that maybe you were in just as deep as he was. 

“I don’t want to leave,” you say quietly, speaking up slightly. Yeonjun chuckles. 

“Let’s get you a bit more cleaned up.”

Yeonjun thinks that he found it.

⋆˙⟡ ⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡ ⋆⋆˙⟡ ⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡ ⋆⋆˙⟡ ⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡ ⋆

A/N: Pt 2. Otw~

[leenashiftss]

⌗ recommendations 𓂃 ࣪˖ 𖣠 ࣪˖ ⌕

warning: all recommendations below are smut! also the reader is mostly female (afab), sometimes gender neutral. if you don’t like any of these, just don’t interact at all :)

- gender neutral (gn), headcanon (title), fic (“title”), favorite (f) -

! shoutout to these creators, they deserve all the love !

-> introduction, about me

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

ot7:

grinding & dry humping

sent a dirty message to another member (f)

tempting them during nnn (hyung line)

favourite positions

can’t take it? (hyung line)

sex postions

sex ban (f)

needy s/o

hard kinks

tropes

making silent gf loud

stressed boss

prank saying “their dick is too small”

squirting for them for the first time

sex scenarios (with nsfw links!)

“make her tap out” (with nsfw links!)

“agora hills”

bestfriend being touchy

you wearing something revealing

heeseung:

audio… (not a fic… guilty as charged)

jealous

edibles (with jake)

tattoo artist

jay:

brother’s best friend

“sticky” (with jake) (f)

he calls you baby (gn)

“shh”

look at me

“ice”

spanking

“drunk dialing”

“brought the heat back” (f)

tutor

jake:

watching porn together

“hypersexual”

“bed chem”

“see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader” (f)

“sticky” (with jay) (f)

“daddy’s girl”

pussydrunk

“trustfall” (f)

“ease my mind”

“taste of you”

“can’t help myself”

edibles (with heeseung)

“liquid sweetener”

sunghoon:

fingering

“mine to touch, mine to fuck”

“make me yours”

sunoo:

art school

jungwon:

squirting (f)

“use me”

safe word

“right there”

“so soaked”

“stress relief”

“touch of madness”

“jealous”

ni-ki:

“loose” pt. 1

“loose” pt. 2

“give me one”

“night like this”

“leather love”

nsfw alphabet

“stay in your place princess”

have a great day, xoxo

- j

[leenashiftss]

please i beg of u i NEEEEEDDDDDD a sequel to his favorite rival!! w possibly more angst & them doing the feelings thing 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN HAVING WRITERS BLOCK😭😭

It may or may not be in the works along w something new hehehehehehehe

[leenashiftss]

TRUST FALL

| “If you trust me, I promise you won’t just feel good.. you’ll finally know what you’ve been missing.”

Pairing: Therapist Jake Sim x afab!reader

Genre: NSFT, smut, slight angst (just the readers backstory), therapist/client relationship

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, therapist/patient relationship (power imbalance), consensual sexual exploration, reader struggles with climax, thigh-riding, slight praise kink, mild dirty talk.

Rating: 18+ MDNI

WC: 3,518

| You’ve always felt like your own body was a puzzle—one you couldn’t solve. No touch, no partner, nothing brought you close to that elusive release. Shame settled in, and you almost stopped trying.

Until you told your therapist, Jake Sim. His calm smile turned curious, his patient voice promising, “Maybe you just need a little guidance.”

You never imagined how much you’d be willing to trust him. Or how far he’d take you.

You don’t know how you found yourself here.

Your cheek pressed against the wooden desk that had belonged to Dr. Sim, your therapist.

His hand shoved your face harder as he dug into you, his thrusts slow but hard and rough.

“You can’t cum? Yeah? Look at you, wetting my cock up like a good girl.” His words alone made your velvet walls contract around his length and caused the tingly sensation to make its way through your body and all the way to your fingertips.

“Nngh! I’m cumming again, please—!!”

Let’s backtrack.

You were in Dr. Sim’s office. Every Friday at 4:00pm, that’s the usual time that you both had met.

It was supposed to be normal, but, before you came in, you attempted to rub one out before your appointment. But to no avail, you couldn’t bring yourself to climax…as usual.

So here you were. You sink into the plush chair across from Dr. Sim, feeling the weight of frustration pressing down on you like it always does in this room. His office, with its warm beige tones and neat decor, is supposed to be comforting, but today it only adds to the suffocating air around you. You’ve been holding this in for what feels like forever, and it’s been eating you alive.

Your hands grip the edges of the chair, fingers digging into the soft fabric, trying to anchor yourself. Every time you try to make sense of it, your mind spins back to the same place, one that makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You can’t even look Dr. Sim in the eye right now.

He sits across from you, a picture of calm patience as always. His eyes are warm but attentive, making it hard to ignore the feeling that he’s waiting for something. “You’ve been feeling frustrated,” he says, his voice low and smooth, as if testing the waters.

You nod, biting your lip, struggling to find the words. It’s all so tangled up inside you. Anger, confusion, shame. “I don’t even know why I’m so angry,” you mutter, barely meeting his gaze. “Everything just… irritates me. Nothing feels right. It’s like I can’t focus on anything without feeling this… this… frustration.” You bite down on your lip, feeling the words sit heavy in the air.

Dr. Sim tilts his head slightly, his expression never wavering. “Do you know why?” he asks, his voice almost gentle, but with an edge of curiosity.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. You’ve thought about it, a lot. Thought about how this frustration has been building, how you’ve never been able to shake it. And it all comes back to one thing, the thing you’ve never been able to talk about, even though it’s been haunting you for far too long.

You hesitate, fingers tapping nervously against the armrest. Your throat feels tight. You swallow, trying to push the words out, but they stick. “I… I have an idea…” you start, but the rest of the sentence lingers in the air. It feels stupid. It feels embarrassing.

Dr. Sim gives a reassuring nod, his voice soft as he speaks again, “You can tell me anything. This is a safe space. Everything you say here stays between us. No one will hear of this except you and me.”

His words sink in, but they don’t make it easier. The weight of his gaze seems to grow heavier, pressing down on you, urging you to speak. You shift in your seat again, and for a moment, the room feels too small.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers running over your leg anxiously. “It’s just…” You pause again, searching for the right words, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “I… I’ve never been able to… to… y’know.” Your voice trails off into a whisper, embarrassed.

Dr. Sim’s eyes don’t leave yours, his expression as composed as ever. “To…?” He gently prods, his tone not pushing, but inviting.

You swallow hard, feeling the shame burn hotter under your skin. It’s terrifying to say it aloud, but it feels like there’s no way out unless you do. “I’ve never been able to… climax,” you whisper, the words coming out in a rush, like they’ve been locked away for too long. You can’t believe you’re saying it. You can’t believe you just admitted that to him.

Your face feels like it’s on fire, but when you look up at him, his eyes are steady, not judging. He nods slowly, as if processing it all. “I see,” he says softly, giving you a moment to breathe. “And how long have you been struggling with this?”

You stutter, words tripping over each other. “A… a long time. Since, like, forever. No matter what I try, nothing works. And it just makes me… frustrated. And angry. And I can’t… I can’t even talk to anyone about it because it’s… it’s embarrassing.”

Dr. Sim’s expression softens, his calm demeanor never faltering. He leans forward just slightly, the hint of a reassuring smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “It’s okay. You’re not alone in feeling this way. A lot of people struggle with it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. That’s why we’re here. To figure it out together.”

You nod, but the words he said don’t completely take away the discomfort. You still feel vulnerable, but for some reason, you trust him. You trust him more than anyone you’ve ever trusted with something so personal.

You exhale slowly, your hands still trembling slightly. “I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Dr. Sim doesn’t rush to answer, giving you space. But when he speaks again, there’s a subtle shift in his tone, a slight teasing edge that you hadn’t expected. “Maybe,” he says, his voice low, “you just need a little guidance. Would you be willing to let me help you with that?”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything inside you freezes. The weight of what he’s suggesting, the possibility of him helping you in a way you’ve never considered—it feels like your whole body tenses in response. Your heart races, your thoughts scatter, and all you can do is stare at him, too unsure to speak.

You hesitate, your lips parting as if you want to say something, but the words don’t come. This isn’t just a conversation anymore. This is a step into unknown territory, and you’re terrified of what might happen next. You want to trust him. You want to believe that this could help, but the vulnerability of it all, the fear of exposing something so intimate, sends a shiver down your spine.

Noticing your hesitation, Dr. Sim leans forward just a little, his eyes never leaving yours. His voice is steady, reassuring, and just a little more intimate now. “If you trust me, I promise you won’t just feel good… you’ll finally know what you’ve been missing.”

The way he says it, calm, sure, with that patient yet slightly teasing edge, suddenly makes the idea seem less daunting. His words wrap around you like a safety net, and before you can second-guess yourself, something inside you clicks. You find yourself nodding, the tension in your chest loosening.

“I… I trust you,” you say softly, the words leaving your mouth before you can fully process them.

Dr. Sim smiles gently, his demeanor still composed but now with a faint glimmer of something deeper, something more knowing. “Good,” he replies, his voice rich with approval. “Then let’s begin.”

Dr. Sim’s gaze remains steady on you, warm but intent, his calm professionalism now laced with something deeper. He rises from his chair slowly, moving to the side of his desk, and gestures gently toward the plush therapy couch—a place where you’ve spent countless sessions trying to untangle your thoughts. But this time, the air is different. Charged. Heavy.

“Why don’t you come here?” he says, his voice still gentle, guiding, but there’s a quiet edge to it, a calm confidence that sends a shiver through you.

Your legs feel weak as you stand, your heart pounding in your chest. Each step you take feels uncertain, but his steady gaze is an anchor. When you reach him, he takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring, and with a gentle pull, he guides you onto his lap.

Not facing him, that would be too much, but turned away, your back pressing lightly against his chest, his arms resting easily on either side of you. Your legs dangle over his, and you can feel the firm muscle of his thigh beneath you, solid and warm.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his voice low by your ear, soothing but edged with that same quiet authority.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Y—Yes.”

“Good,” he murmurs, one of his hands settling on your waist, a steadying touch. “This is about you. About letting go. I want you to take a deep breath.”

You obey, your chest rising and falling as you try to calm your racing heart. But being so close to him, feeling the solid warmth of his body against yours, it’s impossible not to feel the tension tightening within you.

“Close your eyes for me,” he whispers, and you do, the darkness only making your other senses sharper. His breath is warm against the side of your neck, his voice a gentle hum. “I want you to focus on where you feel that frustration most. Where does it sit?”

“My… my chest? My stomach,” you whisper, embarrassed, but there’s no judgment in his touch.

“I see. That’s the tension. The fear,” he says, his thumb beginning a slow, soothing stroke along your waist. “But I want you to shift your focus. Feel the warmth beneath you. Feel my thigh. That’s where I want you to center your attention.”

You can’t help but notice it now, the solid press of his thigh beneath you, firm and unyielding. Even through the fabric of your clothes, you can feel the heat of his body, a steady, grounding presence.

“Move,” he instructs gently, his hand guiding you just slightly. “Slowly. Don’t think—just feel.”

Your breath catches, embarrassment burning in your cheeks, but the warmth of his body, the calm authority in his voice, it’s enough to keep you from pulling away. Hesitant, you shift your hips, the faintest pressure against his thigh sending a spark up your spine. Your hands grip his forearm for balance, the soft material of his sleeve bunching beneath your fingertips.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise a quiet rumble against your ear. His voice is steady, soothing, but there’s an edge of something darker beneath it, something that makes your skin prickle. “Keep going. Slow. Let your body guide you.”

You hesitate, moving in slow, tentative circles, the friction barely there but impossible to ignore. His thigh is so solid beneath you, a heat that radiates through the thin barrier of your clothing. Your breath stutters, your lips parting as you let yourself press a little more firmly, your hips rolling with a touch more confidence.

“Don’t overthink,” he whispers, his thumb still tracing slow, grounding circles on your waist. “Just feel.”

The pressure grows, a warmth building between your legs, slow and insistent. It’s so little, so faint, but each subtle roll of your hips makes it pulse stronger, the heat spreading, sinking deeper. Your breathing quickens, and you feel a rush of embarrassment, but his hands stay firm, his voice steady, guiding.

“Good. Just like that. No shame. No fear,” he murmurs, his breath brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “This is your body waking up. Don’t fight it.”

A soft whimper slips from your lips, and his grip tightens just slightly, an anchor keeping you steady. You lean back against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, your hips continuing their slow, hesitant movement. Every press, every slow drag of your body against his thigh sends a delicate spark racing through you.

Your hands tighten on his forearm, your fingers digging in slightly as your movements become more natural, the slow, instinctive rhythm guiding you. Heat pools low in your belly, a simmering ache you’ve never quite felt before, so different, so intense.

“Feel that?” Dr. Sim’s voice is a soothing murmur by your ear. “That’s you. Finally letting yourself feel.”

Your thighs tremble, the friction between your legs a constant, teasing pulse, and your breath grows faster. But then something sharper, heavier, begins to build—a pressure, a tingling ache that starts deep and slowly spirals outward. Your hips shift a little faster, and you can’t help the soft, desperate sounds that slip from your lips.

The pressure is unbearable, a heat that pulses and throbs, and you’re on the edge of something vast, something you’ve never touched before. But his voice is there, his touch grounding you even as your senses spiral.

“Don’t hold back. Let go.”

A desperate, shaky gasp escapes you, your hips instinctively grinding down harder against his thigh, chasing that maddening friction. The heat between your legs is a roaring flame now, the ache coiling tighter with each slow, deliberate roll of your hips. His hands never waver, one steady on your waist, the other trailing a soothing, possessive line along your side.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing hum in your ear. “You’re so close. Don’t be afraid.”

But you are afraid. You’re afraid of the sharp, overwhelming pressure that only seems to grow, the strange, urgent tingling that spreads from your core. Panic and need blur together, your hands clutching his arms as your body moves on its own, grinding down, pressing harder, desperate.

“D-Dr. Sim…” you whimper, the words barely a breath. “I-I can’t… I… I think I have to—”

“You don’t,” he reassures, but his voice is firmer now, each word clear and calm. “That’s just your release building. That’s your body finally letting go.”

The tingling sharpens, your thighs trembling, your hips stuttering in their rhythm. You feel yourself hovering on the edge of something unbearable, something so powerful it almost hurts. The urge is so strong, too strong, your breath catches, a tear slipping free as panic flares.

“N-No, please—!” you cry, trying to pull away, but his grip tightens, iron and unyielding.

“Stop,” he commands, his voice so steady, so calm. “You’re not running from this. Not this time.”

His hands shift, locking you in place, his strong fingers splayed against your waist. And then he moves, his thigh flexing beneath you, pressing up, grinding against the desperate ache between your legs. A slow, firm rhythm, each roll forcing that unbearable friction.

Your breath is a desperate, trembling mess, your body arching against him as he controls your movements. His thigh presses harder, and you can feel the muscles shifting beneath you, each grind sending a shock of white-hot pleasure racing through you.

“Feel it,” he whispers, his voice a dark, soothing caress. “Let it happen. Don’t fight it.”

You can’t stop it. You can’t escape. His hands guide you, his thigh pressing, shifting, building that pressure to a blinding peak. The tingling turns to a desperate, pulsing ache, and your nails dig into his arm, your entire body tensing as that unbearable rush surges.

“I… I—!” The words are lost in a broken, gasping cry, your head falling back against his shoulder, your vision blurring.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his voice the only solid thing in your world. “Trust me. I’ve got you.”

And then it snaps.

A tidal wave of heat and white-hot pleasure crashes over you, ripping a desperate, raw cry from your lips. Your body seizes, hips jerking against his thigh, your entire world narrowing to that overwhelming, pulsing release. It’s too much—your breath caught in your throat, your fingers clawing at his arm as you’re lost in the blinding rush.

“That’s it,” Dr. Sim soothes, his voice a steady anchor as your body trembles, every nerve alight. “You’re okay. Just feel it. Let it all out.”

Your hips stutter against him, the aftershocks pulsing through you, each tiny roll of his thigh a fresh spark that leaves you shuddering. His grip never wavers, holding you steady, grounding you even as your senses slowly begin to return.

Your breathing is a ragged, desperate mess, your body slumping back against his chest, weak and boneless. And his hands are still there, warm, steady, gentle now, tracing slow, comforting circles along your sides.

“See?” His voice is a soft, soothing murmur by your ear, the warmth of his breath a gentle contrast to the lingering sparks that dance through your veins. “You didn’t fall. I’ve got you.”

Your breathing is a ragged, desperate mess, your body slumping back against his chest, weak and boneless. The world feels hazy, a warm, trembling glow settling over you, but Dr. Sim’s arms around you are a solid, grounding presence. His fingers trace slow, soothing circles along your sides, his chest rising and falling behind you, a steady, comforting rhythm.

“Breathe,” he whispers, his voice a gentle hum against your ear. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

You nod weakly, your head falling back onto his broad shoulder, your cheek pressing against the soft fabric of his shirt. Your lashes flutter, your eyes half-closed as you focus on the warmth of his body, the solid strength of his hold. The tension has melted from your limbs, leaving you feeling weightless, a gentle ache pulsing through you with every shaky breath.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, his lips brushing lightly against your temple. “You did so well. Just relax.”

You let yourself sink into his warmth, your own breathing gradually slowing, the frantic rush of sensation easing to a soft, blissful hum. But as his fingers trace a slow, soothing path down your waist, a faint shiver runs through you, awareness tingling at the edges of your senses.

“D-Dr. Sim…” you breathe, a whisper, but you can’t bring yourself to move, your body still so soft, so pliant in his embrace.

“Hm?” he hums, almost absentmindedly, his hand continuing its slow, gentle path. His fingers trail lower, brushing over your stomach through the thin fabric of your shirt, tracing light, soothing circles that leave a warm, tingling trail in their wake.

“I… I feel so…” You trail off, embarrassment coloring your cheeks, but the words won’t come. It’s too much—too raw, too vulnerable.

But he seems to understand, his touch never faltering. “Sensitive?” he offers, his voice soft but edged with something darker, something you can’t quite name. “That’s normal. Especially for your first time letting go like that.”

His fingers dip lower, the slow, teasing touch skating just above the waistband of your pants, and a faint, breathless shudder runs through you.

“Just… relax for me,” he soothes, his voice a quiet murmur against your ear. “I’m here.”

Your breath catches as his hand slips beneath the waistband, the warm, gentle touch of his fingers against your bare skin sending a fresh spark of heat racing through you. Your hips shift instinctively, a faint, desperate whine slipping free before you can stop it.

“Dr. Sim…” you whimper, your voice a trembling plea, but you don’t pull away. You can’t.

“Shh.” His lips brush against the shell of your ear, a gentle, reassuring touch. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His fingers slide lower, parting your folds with a slow, deliberate touch. The warmth of his fingertips against your slick, oversensitive skin makes your hips jerk, a desperate, breathless gasp spilling from your lips. Your thighs tremble, your back pressing instinctively against his chest as your fingers curl against his arm.

“So wet,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his voice a low, soothing hum. “Your body’s still so sensitive. Perfect.”

You feel a fresh rush of heat flood your cheeks, your breath stuttering as his fingers trace slow, feather-light circles over your swollen, pulsing clit. The sensation is overwhelming—sharp, electric, a raw pulse of pleasure that sends your hips twitching, a helpless, needy whimper escaping you.

“Easy,” he soothes, his other arm wrapping around your waist, holding you steady against him. “You’re fine. You’re okay.”

His touch is so careful, so gentle, and yet each light stroke is enough to make your thighs tense, your chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. Your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting, another desperate sound slipping free as your hips shift, chasing that impossible, teasing friction.

“Dr. Sim… please…” you whisper, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice a soft, soothing caress. “I’m right here. You’re okay.”

His fingers continue their slow, lazy strokes, never pressing too hard, never rushing, just keeping you on that knife’s edge of sensation, the warmth building, the ache growing sharper. And all the while, his voice is there, a steady, grounding whisper against your ear.

“So sensitive… but you’re so perfect like this,” he breathes, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

[leenashiftss]

where have u been all my life? u ate so hard with his favorite rival😭🧎🏻‍♀️

TYSMMMM😭🫶ILYYY AND ILL RELEASE ANOTHER ONE SOON😄😄

[leenashiftss]

HIS FAVORITE RIVAL

| “You keep trying to beat me, but you can’t even stop thinking about me.”

Pairing: Yang Jungwon x afab!reader

Genre: Smut, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, teasing & playful tension

Warnings: unprotected p in v (18+), explicit smut (oral, dry humping, slight exhibitionism, etc), dom!jungwon, sexual tension, cursing, reader is slightly younger + competitive, light enemies/rivals dynamic, slight time skips (not that big..I’m inpatient LEAVE ME ALONE), lmk if i missed anything !! Also, my first ever ficccc🥰

Rating: 18+ MDNI

WC: 9,902..

| You’ve spent the last two years trying to one up Jungwon at everything..until you’re forced to share a room with him at the country’s most prestigious boarding school. He’s infuriating, brilliant, and way too good at getting under your skin… and under your skirt.

══════════════════════

You hadn’t even been back on campus for twenty minutes and things were already falling apart.

Coming back from fall break was supposed to be a reset, a clean slate. A chance to breathe before things ramped up again at Valemont, the country’s most prestigious (and most suffocating) boarding academy. You had spent the past week catching up on sleep, watching trashy dramas with your cousin, and pretending, for just a little while, that the constant pressure of being the best wasn’t sitting on your shoulders like a ten-ton weight.

You didn’t think much could kill that relaxed buzz.

Until Dean Baek’s announcement.

“Due to renovations in the East Wing,” she said, voice projecting through the grand marble atrium, “students will be reassigned to new dormitory suites, effective immediately.”

The noise that followed was instant and loud, mostly groans and complaints. Your heart sank. You had lived with Karina and Rei for two years straight. They had become your safe place. You loved them. They got you. And now… you’d be thrown into some random suite with God knows who.

Still, you tried to look on the bright side. Maybe it’ll be someone new. Someone chill. You didn’t have many close friends at Valemont beyond your tiny circle. People either hated you for how competitive you were… or kept their distance because of who you always ended up competing with.

Jungwon.

You hated even thinking his name. It left a nasty, bitter taste on your tongue.

Yang Jungwon was the most irritating person you’d ever met. He was smug, sharp-eyed, and just as brilliant as he was cocky. He had been your academic rival since day one, turning every class discussion into a battleground, every grade report into a war. You couldn’t stand the way he always seemed to beat you by one point, one second, one breath. And the worst part?

He loved it. It’s like he got off on that shit. Maybe he secretly creamed his pants everytime you had got a 98% whilst he had gotten a 99%.

Anyway, the new dorm assignment was tucked into your welcome packet. Room 204B. Top floor. North Building.

You didn’t recognize the name listed under yours, it was scrawled in messy pen, as if the assignment had been changed at the last minute. Whatever. You’d deal. You were tired and running purely on overpriced café espresso.

You finally made it up the three flights of stairs (because the elevators were still being “serviced”) and stood outside your new room, adjusting the strap of your duffel bag over your shoulder. You hesitated. It was stupid, but for some reason your heart thudded a little faster. New room. New person. New chaos.

You opened the door.

The first thing that hit you was the smell, crisp and bright. Citrus. Lemon, maybe orange, but not cheap like a body spray. It was fresh. Clean. Masculine. Fuck.

The second thing was the silence. Well, beside the running water that you could hear from behind the closed bathroom door.

The room was surprisingly spacious, two beds, two desks, floor-to-ceiling windows, and dark oak shelves lining the walls. On the right side of the room, there were already bags unpacked, a book or two stacked neatly on the desk, and a navy tie slung carelessly over the headboard. Am I rooming with a man?

Whoever your new roommate was… he was in the shower.

At least he smells good, you thought, flopping onto the bed. You stretched your legs out, letting your eyes close for a moment. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you’d luck out. Maybe-

The door creaked open.

Your eyes opened. Your heart dropped.

And there he was.

Yang fucking Jungwon.

Hair damp and curling at the ends, towel slung low on his hips, water still glistening on his collarbones. The steam rolled out around him like a fucking movie scene. He paused in the doorway, one hand running through his hair as he looked up, then froze when he saw you sprawled out on the bed.

The smirk came almost instantly.

“Wow,” he said, voice light and teasing. “Didn’t think you’d be this excited to see me.”

You shot upright like you’d been electrocuted. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He raised an eyebrow, sauntering over to his desk with no urgency, as if he didn’t just give you a heart attack. “This is my room.”

“No,” you snapped, grabbing your dorm assignment letter and shoving it toward him. “This is my room.”

He plucked the paper from your hand, eyes scanning the text. Then, impossibly, his grin widened.

“Hm, we’re roomies.”

You stared at him. “No. No, no, no—this has to be a mistake.”

He shrugged. “Take it up with the dean. I just moved in.”

“Are you kidding me, Jungwon? After all the shit you’ve pulled the last two years—”

“Hey,” he cut in, voice still maddeningly calm. “I didn’t ask for this either. You think I want to share a room with someone who practically throws daggers at me every time I raise my hand?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You raise your hand just to piss me off.”

“That’s only because your eye twitches when I beat you.”

“I don’t—!” you started, then caught yourself. Deep breath. You wouldn’t let him win this one. Not on day one.

You turned your back to him, busying yourself with unpacking your bag. The citrusy scent hit you again, it was coming from the body wash he must’ve used. God. Of course he smelled good. Of course.

You heard him move around behind you, the rustle of fabric as he pulled on a shirt, the quiet thud of drawers opening. The silence stretched too long.

Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he said it:

“You gonna be okay over there, roomie? Or should I sleep on the floor so you don’t combust?”

You glared at him over your shoulder. “Touch my side of the room and I’ll report you.”

He grinned. That stupid ass grin.

—

Two Weeks Later

You were starting to wonder if Dean Baek wanted to drive you into insanity.

Because it had only been fourteen days of coexisting with Jungwon, FOURTEEN, and you were already fantasizing about strangling him with one of his stupidly pressed navy ties.

He was everywhere. In the dorm, lounging on his side of the room like he owned it. In the shared bathroom, humming under his breath like he was in a damn commercial. And of course — always, always — in the classroom, where he thrived on pushing every single one of your buttons.

Three days ago in Literature, Professor Lee had asked for interpretations of the final line in Faust. You had barely gotten two words out before Jungwon leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and interrupted with, “Actually, I think what she’s trying to say is—”

You didn’t remember what he said after that because you were too busy plotting his death via falling bookshelf.

Last Wednesday, your alarm didn’t go off, and by the time you rushed into Advanced Ethics, flustered and one minute late, the only open seat was, of course, beside him. He slid your coffee, half drunken by the way, across the desk with a smirk and said, “Thought you’d sleep through this one. I was gonna be generous but..I guess I got thirsty.” It was your coffee. Your own. He’d taken it from the dorm mini-fridge and claimed it was “fair punishment for waking him up.”

Just YESTERDAY, you opened your locker to find it reeking of orange peels. At least six of them stuffed inside. He walked by whistling, peeling another, and winked. “Citrus suits our dorm, no?”

You were seconds away from writing your own dorm reassignment request.

But today was the final straw.

Because you were in Philosophy (your best subject) and Professor Lee had posed a question to the class that should’ve been an easy win:

“Can true morality exist without consequence?”

Your hand shot up before she even finished.

But so did his.

And she, like the sadist she clearly was, gestured to both of you.

“Miss Y/L/N, Mister Yang. Let’s hear it.”

You inhaled sharply. “Of course it can. Morality is intrinsic, something we’re either born with or not. The moment you tie morality to consequences, it becomes performative.”

You felt good about it. Your answer was strong. Sharp. Professorial, even.

Until he tilted his head and said, all smug and thoughtful, “I disagree.”

You didn’t look at him. You refused. But you could feel the whole room lean in. Your jaw clenched as you continued to stare straight.

“If morality was intrinsic,” Jungwon continued, “we wouldn’t need laws. Or religion. Or guilt. We behave morally because we’re taught there will be consequences if we don’t. Without them, we’re just animals with uniforms.”

Laughter rippled through the room. You gritted your teeth.

“Not true,” you snapped, finally turning to glare at him. “That assumes humans are incapable of empathy unless threatened. Which is—”

“Optimistic,” he cut in. “And naive.”

“Self-righteous.”

“Delusional.”

“Enough!” Professor Lee’s voice cracked through the air like a whip. She pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly at her breaking point. “You two, after hours. Today. Classroom cleanup.”

Your mouth dropped open. “But—”

“I mean it,” she said, not looking at either of you. “I’d rather mop the floor with my own tears than listen to another one of your debates. Five o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Jungwon turned to you and flashed a grin. “Guess we’re spending more quality time together, sunshine.”

—

5:07pm | Classroom 3C

The mop bucket squeaked every time you moved it. The sun had dipped low enough to cast gold over the chalkboards, and the classroom was dead silent, save for your grumbling, and the faint sound of Jungwon lightly sweeping near the front.

It had been ten whole minutes without speaking. A record.

But of course, he broke it first.

“You missed a spot.”

You didn’t even look up. “You’re breathing too loud.”

“Just trying to be helpful.”

“Try less.”

Silence again. The tension wasn’t thick, not yet. Just a quiet undercurrent. A ripple. Barely there. Like the faint buzz of heat from a wire you weren’t supposed to touch.

He moved toward the windows, dusting the frame with one of the rags, sleeves rolled up, his posture relaxed and annoyingly perfect. His tie was gone, his shirt half unbuttoned, something he probably thought made him look casual and mature.

It did, unfortunately. Not that you’d ever say it out loud.

“You always have to win, huh?” you muttered, scrubbing aggressively at a chalk stain.

He didn’t look back. “So do you.”

You paused. Glanced up.

He was still facing the window. Light brushed over his cheekbone like a painting.

“I don’t need to win,” you said quietly. “I just don’t want to lose to you.”

That got his attention.

He turned, slowly, and for once, he didn’t have a comeback.

Your eyes met, and something passed between you. Not fire, not lightning, something slower. Like the curl of steam on a mug. Barely visible. But there.

You were still holding the rag. He was still holding the duster. It was silent. Close. Charged.

Then he dropped the cloth into the bucket and broke eye contact.

“Well,” he said lightly, brushing off his hands, “you’ll have to try harder.”

You blinked, and just like that, the tension dissolved. Gone. Like it was never there.

You hated how your skin still felt warm.

And then, just as if the universe decided to ruin the moment further, the door creaked open.

Professor Lee stepped in, a warm but slightly knowing smile on her face. Her eyes scanned the room, and she nodded approvingly.

“You both clean up well, hm? Your parents must be proud,” she remarked, a touch of amusement in her voice. “And since you seem so dedicated to debating each other at every opportunity, I’ve decided to give you an extra assignment, one specifically for you two.”

You tensed. “An assignment?”

“Yes.” Professor Lee folded her arms. “A written debate. Two thousand words each. One of you will argue in favor of morality being intrinsic — a natural, unchanging part of human nature. The other will argue that morality is a learned behavior, dependent on consequences and social conditioning.”

Your stomach dropped. “You can’t be serious—”

“Oh, I am,” she said lightly. “You’ll submit it next Monday, that gives you time to work on it over the weekend, yeah? And I expect thoughtful, properly cited arguments.” Her smile sharpened. “This should be quite the battle.”

Jungwon straightened, a spark of interest lighting his eyes. “Who gets which side?”

“I’ll leave that to you two. You’re both stubborn enough to sort it out.” Professor Lee’s voice softened, but her gaze stayed sharp. “And perhaps, in writing, you’ll learn something about understanding perspectives other than your own.”

With that, she gave a brisk nod and swept out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

You stood there, staring at the chalkboard, mind racing.

Two thousand words. On morality. With Jungwon.

“Can’t wait,” he murmured beside you, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to glare at him. “You’re not actually excited about this, are you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He leaned back against the desk, his confidence radiating off him like heat. “Two thousand words is nothing for me.”

“God, you’re insufferable.”

“And you’re predictable.” He tilted his head. “Want me to pick the side that’ll make you lose your mind faster? Or do you want the honors?”

Your jaw clenched. “I’m taking intrinsic morality. Because it’s right.”

“Perfect. I’ll take the other.” He straightened, brushing off his sleeves and reaching for his bag. “Guess you’ve got a busy weekend ahead, sunshine.”

You watched him stroll toward the door, the weight of the assignment settling on your shoulders, not just because of the work, but because you knew he’d make every second of it a challenge.

And the worst part?

A tiny part of you didn’t hate the idea.

“See you at the dorm, roomie,” he called without looking back, pushing the door open and disappearing into the hallway.

You stood there, alone in the empty classroom, still clutching the rag, your heart racing for reasons you didn’t want to examine.

—

Sunday Night | 2:03 AM

Over the weekend, of course you procrastinated. But not because you went out with your friends or visited family like everyone else. No, every time you managed to type something on your laptop, you convinced yourself it was brilliant. Flawless. Until you neared that two-thousand word mark, and the crushing weight of self-doubt hit you. So you’d sigh, backspace, and start again.

Your work had to be perfect. It wasn’t just an assignment, it was a battle. A chance to outshine Jungwon. A chance to see his smug smile falter.

He was already done.

And he didn’t let you forget it.

“Done already,” he’d announced Saturday morning, lounging on his bed with his hands behind his head, his gaze never leaving you. “Guess the slow ones always win the race, right?”

You ignored him.

That evening, he’d leaned over your shoulder on the way to dinner. “Still writing? You know you can just copy mine. Not that you’d understand it.”

You glared. “I’d rather fail.”

“Could’ve guessed.” He grinned, tapping your screen. “Try shorter sentences. Might help with the whole ‘sounding smart’ thing.”

So here you were. Sunday night. 2:03 AM.

The world slept, along with the boy across from your bed, his even breathing a soft, constant reminder of his existence. Your small desk lamp cast a warm, faint glow, just enough to illuminate the silver keys of your laptop. You sat with your back pressed against the headboard, the cool sheets pooled around your waist, the device balanced on your plush thighs.

Every few minutes, you’d yawn, rubbing your half-lidded eyes. Blinking away the blur. Willing yourself to focus.

But the words blurred together, logic crumbling beneath exhaustion.

“You’re gonna give yourself a fucking aneurysm.”

The voice cut through the quiet, low and amused. Your gaze snapped up, and you found Jungwon sitting up, dark hair tousled and eyes sharp despite the late hour.

“Go back to sleep,” you muttered, fingers tapping out another hollow sentence. “Your assignment’s done, remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” He stretched, arms lifting above his head, the thin fabric of his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach. “Just didn’t think I’d get a front-row seat to your breakdown.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, though the bite in your voice was dulled by exhaustion.

But he didn’t shut up. Of course he didn’t.

“Come on, sunshine.” He shifted, swinging his legs off the bed. “Your brain’s fried. Why not just admit defeat? I mean, I knew I’d win, but this is almost too easy.”

“Will you shut the fu—” You turned to glare at him, but another yawn cut you off, muffling the rest of your words. Your eyes watered slightly, the dull ache of exhaustion making your vision swim.

And for a moment, he was quiet.

Then his feet touched the floor, and he stood. The teasing curve of his lips softened, just barely, and he moved toward you, slow and almost careful.

“Jungwon, I’m not in the mood,” you warned, though it lacked any real force.

“I know,” he murmured, but his steps didn’t stop.

You stared as he approached your bed, watching his shadow stretch across the sheets. He leaned over you, one hand reaching out — and before you could protest, his fingers gently lifted the laptop off your thighs.

“Hey—”

He replaced it with his other hand, his warm palm resting against your skin, his touch featherlight but steady. The laptop clicked shut as he placed it on your nightstand.

“Let yourself take a break,” he whispered, his voice a touch lower. Closer.

Your breath hitched, your gaze snapping to his, but he was already leaning in, his weight shifting so his hand pressed just a bit more firmly against your thigh. His face was so close you could see the faint shadow of his lashes, the warm undertone of his skin.

His breath brushed your cheek. “Want me to help you stay awake?”

Your heart skipped. Your pulse thrummed against your ribs.

“W-What?” The word barely made it past your lips.

A slow smile curved at the edge of his mouth, something teasing and yet…not. “You heard me.”

Your pulse raced. Heat pooled low in your stomach, battling against the fog of sleep clinging to your mind.

“Jungwon…”

“Hm?” His thumb brushed gently against your thigh, the barest hint of friction.

His other hand rose, bracing against the headboard beside your head, caging you in. The space between you seemed to collapse, every breath shared. Your own fingers curled against the sheets, your chest tight.

“Don’t you want to win?” he whispered, his voice barely a murmur, warm against the shell of your ear. “Or are you giving up?”

Your pride flared, even through the haze of exhaustion. “I’m not—”

“Not what?” His thumb traced a slow, deliberate line against your thigh, the touch featherlight but burning all the same. His weight pressed against you just enough for you to feel the firmness of his palm, the subtle strength in his grip.

“I’m not giving up.” Your voice was meant to be steady, defiant. But it was breathy, almost a whisper, and you hated how it betrayed you.

“Really?” He leaned closer, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw, the faintest touch. “Because you look tired. Frustrated. Maybe you’re finally realizing you’re out of your league.”

A rush of irritation crashed against the heat, pushing past the fluttering in your chest. You turned your head, and suddenly your nose brushed against his, your breaths mingling in the faint glow of the lamplight.

“Out of my league?” you shot back, and despite the quiver in your voice, you met his gaze, dark, intense, a hint of something playful but with an edge. “If I’m out of my league, then why are you here? Why do you care?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, a slow, infuriating smirk. “Who says I care?”

“Then why aren’t you asleep?” You leaned forward just slightly, your forehead nearly brushing his. “Why are you in my bed, talking like—like—”

“Like this?” His lips ghosted over your cheek, the barest touch, before brushing lower, hovering just over the corner of your mouth. “Or like this?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, every nerve in your body strung tight. He wasn’t touching you anywhere but your thigh, his hand still resting there, warm and steady, and yet your entire body felt trapped in his gravity.

“You’re bluffing,” you whispered, though the words felt like a lie even as you spoke them.

“Am I?” His voice was a murmur, teasing, but the warmth in his gaze had darkened. “Because you’re the one still holding on.”

Your hands clenched against the sheets, you hadn’t even realized you were gripping them. Heat rushed to your cheeks, but you didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

“Say it,” he murmured, the tip of his nose brushing yours, your lips just shy of touching. “Say you want to win. Say you want to beat me. Or maybe—” His voice dropped lower, his thumb pressing just a bit more firmly against your thigh. “Maybe you don’t want to win at all. Maybe you just want my attention.”

You felt the words like a spark against dry kindling, the embarrassment and defiance and heat all crashing together.

“You’re so full of yourself,” you whispered, but even that sounded weak, too breathless to be a real insult.

“Maybe.” His lips barely grazed yours, a touch so faint it sent a shudder through you. “But you still haven’t stopped me.”

You wanted to pull away. Wanted to shove him back, snap at him, prove that he didn’t affect you, that his arrogant, teasing words didn’t send your heart racing. That his touch wasn’t burning into your skin, leaving you breathless.

But you didn’t.

Because in that moment, you didn’t want him to stop.

And it was like he could sense it, the hesitation, the tangled mess of denial and longing.

“Should I help you?” he whispered again, his lips brushing yours with each syllable, your senses filled with the faint scent of citrus and warmth. “Help you stay awake?”

Your lashes fluttered. “Jungwon—”

The way you said his name, quiet, almost pleading, seemed to snap something in him.

His hand tightened on your thigh, his weight pressing just slightly more, the soft mattress dipping beneath you. He leaned in, your lips finally catching, warm and impossibly soft. Not a kiss, not yet, but a lingering touch, a barely-there connection.

His breath washed over you, warm and steady, and his voice dropped to a near growl. “Is that a yes?”

For a split second, the world narrowed, just the two of you, the faint lamplight, his touch. His mouth a whisper away from yours.

Your pride screamed at you to shove him away. But your body leaned forward instead, that ache of exhaustion forgotten, your lips brushing against his in the faintest answer.

“Yes.”

And then he kissed you.

Soft, at first. Like he was testing the waters, coaxing a response from you, but the moment your lips parted, his patience shattered.

The kiss deepened, slow but intense, his fingers curling against your thigh, his other hand braced against the headboard beside you. Your hands finally let go of the sheets, reaching up to tangle in his dark hair, pulling him closer.

His tongue swept against your lower lip, a quiet, hungry sound escaping his throat when you opened for him, and suddenly the exhaustion that had weighed on you for hours was gone, replaced with a fire, a desperation you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Jungwon shifted, his body pressing against yours, the thin sheet between you barely enough to keep the cool air from your skin. His hand slid from your thigh to your waist, tugging you just slightly closer, his mouth tracing a slow, heated path along your jaw.

“Still tired?” he whispered, his voice rougher now, tinged with something darker.

“Shut up,” you managed, but the words were lost in a gasp as his teeth grazed your earlobe.

“Thought so.” His laugh was a low, warm rumble, his mouth finding yours again, your breaths mingling, your world narrowing to the press of his body, the warmth of his touch, the quiet, insistent need growing between you.

His mouth moved against yours, a slow, deliberate dance, teasing, demanding, and then pulling back just enough to leave you breathless, only to capture your lips again. Your fingers curled tighter in his hair, your body arching instinctively into his touch.

But then, just as your senses seemed to drown in the warmth of him, his lips stilled. A slow, almost lazy pullback, just enough for you to feel the cool air slip between you.

He lingered for a second longer, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing warm against your cheek. And then, without a word, he leaned away.

You stared, still caught between a daze and disbelief, watching as he straightened. His touch left your waist, the warmth of his palm vanishing from your thigh, and you immediately missed it.

Before you could even begin to process it, he reached for your laptop. The silver device clicked open, and he carefully settled it back against your thighs, his knuckles brushing your skin with a deliberate slowness that made your breath hitch all over again.

He turned, sauntering back to his own bed, his smirk still painted across his face. The mattress creaked as he collapsed onto it, one arm draping over his eyes.

“Good luck, sunshine,” he called out, voice low and laced with smug amusement. “Hope my little pep talk helped you focus. Try not to drool over the keyboard.”

Your jaw tightened, embarrassment and frustration knotting in your chest. “You’re such a—”

“Genius? I know.” His laugh was muffled beneath his arm, but you could still see the faintest glimpse of that infuriating grin. “Just remember, two thousand words by tomorrow. Don’t stay up all night dreaming about me.”

You wanted to snap at him, to fire back something sharp, but the words stuck in your throat. Because the lingering taste of his kiss, the phantom heat of his hand on your thigh, all pulsed beneath your skin, stubbornly refusing to fade.

Gritting your teeth, you turned back to your laptop, fingers settling against the keyboard. The blank document blinked at you, but this time, your thoughts didn’t feel scrambled. Your pulse still raced, but words finally began to form.

Still, every few minutes, you found your gaze drifting to the boy sprawled lazily across his bed, his breathing slowing, the faint rise and fall of his chest far too calm for someone who had just set your world on fire.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus, but then another slow, aching pulse bloomed low in your stomach, heat crawling up your cheeks. You shifted slightly, pressing your thighs together beneath the laptop, the lingering tingles of his touch refusing to fade.

This was supposed to be a battle. A game of wits. A test of intelligence.

So why did it feel like you were already losing?

—

The Next Day

The crisp, sterile air of the classroom seemed heavier today, the weight of it pressing against your chest. Professor Lee’s voice was a distant hum, her stern gaze sweeping the room. But all you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat, each thud reminding you of the weekend spent drowning in frustration and sleepless nights.

Jungwon had presented first, of course. He stood with that familiar, infuriating confidence, back straight, voice steady, each word falling like a perfectly placed chess move. His thesis was clear: morality was fluid, a product of circumstance and personal experience, a clever dance of logic and eloquence.

You hated that he made it look so easy. Hated how he didn’t even need to glance at his notes, hated the quiet awe in the room as he finished, a satisfied, almost bored smile tugging at his lips. But most of all, you hated that your eyes wouldn’t leave him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the way his fingers tapped against the edge of the desk, a quiet restlessness only you seemed to notice.

Then it was your turn.

Your legs were stiff as you stood, fingers gripping the paper in your hands so tightly the edges crumpled. You spoke, your voice steady at first, arguing for an absolute morality, a sense of right and wrong that existed beyond circumstance, beyond mere perception. But the weight of his gaze burned against your skin, each word feeling like a struggle to breathe.

“Wait.” Byun Euijoo’s voice sliced through, and your heart plummeted. “Aren’t you just contradicting yourself? If morality is absolute, then why did you mention context?”

“I… I’m not contradicting myself,” you forced out, the calm in your voice slipping. “I’m saying that context affects perception, but—”

“So you agree with Jungwon?” Euijoo’s smile widened, and a few students chuckled. “I mean, if even you can’t keep your argument straight—”

“She’s not agreeing with me.” Jungwon’s voice was a blade, sharp and unyielding. The laughter died instantly. His gaze, steady and cold, never left Euijoo. “If you actually listened instead of trying to sound smart, you’d understand she’s arguing for a moral constant that’s interpreted differently. But I wouldn’t expect you to get that.”

The room fell silent, Euijoo’s face flushing with embarrassment. Your throat tightened, words caught somewhere between gratitude and humiliation. Because even though he defended you, he did it with the same calculated ease he did everything, like you were another problem to solve, another equation to balance.

“Continue, Y/N.” Jungwon’s voice was steady, but his gaze held something else, something you couldn’t decipher, and it terrified you.

So you continued, stumbling at first but regaining your composure. And when you finally finished, Professor Lee offered a brief nod, but it didn’t feel like a victory. Not when Jungwon leaned back in his chair, a faint, unreadable smile tugging at his lips.

—

The hallway was a blur, your thoughts racing faster than your feet could carry you. The cold metal of the doorknob bit into your palm, and you shoved it open, letting it swing shut behind you with a quiet thud.

Jungwon was already there, leaning against his desk, scrolling through his phone, his expression bored. The same face he always wore, calm, indifferent, untouchable. You hated it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you blurted, dropping your bag to the floor.

“Do what?” His tone was casual, but his eyes never left the screen.

“Humiliate Euijoo. Make me look like I needed your help.”

He shrugged, finally glancing up. “I didn’t do it for you.”

The words were a punch to your chest, sharp and cold. “Right. Of course you didn’t.”

“Relax.” He leaned back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “If you weren’t so busy overthinking, you’d realize I just hate idiots.”

“Overthinking?” A bitter laugh slipped from your lips. “Is that what you think I do?”

“I don’t think. I know.” His gaze was piercing, a quiet challenge simmering beneath the surface. “You’re so obsessed with trying to be perfect, with trying to beat me, that you can’t even see straight.”

“I’m not obsessed with beating you!” Your voice was louder now, trembling. “I’m just.. I’m just trying to prove that I—”

“That you’re better than me?” He stood, his sudden closeness making your breath hitch. “Go on. Say it.”

“Stop twisting my words!”

“Oh, so now I’m twisting your words?” His voice was sharper, each word cutting like glass. “You’re the one who can’t decide what you want.”

“I know exactly what I want.”

“Do you?” He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the faint light of the desk lamp. “Because one second you’re glaring at me like you want me dead, and the next…” His voice dropped, softer, almost a whisper. “The next, you’re looking at me like I’m the only thing you can’t figure out.”

Your throat tightened. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe.” His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “But at least I’m honest. At least I’m not pretending.”

“Pretending?” You forced out a laugh, but it cracked, raw and broken. “Pretending that you don’t get under my skin? That I don’t hate how you make everything look so easy? Or that—”

“Or that you don’t like it when I kiss you?” His voice was a low, dangerous murmur now, his breath warm against your cheek.

Your pulse roared in your ears. “That was a mistake.”

“Was it?”

“Yes!” But the word was weak, a hollow lie.

“Fine.” His voice hardened, cold and sharp. “Then maybe I should kiss someone who’d actually appreciate it. Your friend Karina’s practically throwing herself at me every chance she gets.”

Your heart clenched painfully. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” He laughed, the sound bitter, like shattered glass. “What do you care? You hate me, right? I’m just the arrogant smart-ass who ruins everything for you.”

“I do hate you.”

“Good.” He took a step toward the door. “Then you won’t care if I walk right out and—”

But you didn’t let him finish.

Before you could think, before you could even breathe, you lunged forward, your fingers curling around his wrist, yanking him back.

And then your lips crashed against his.

There was no thought, no hesitation, just the overwhelming, suffocating ache in your chest, the burn in your veins. His lips were warm, shocked against yours for a heartbeat, before he responded. His phone clattered to the floor, forgotten.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, the force of it sending you stumbling back. You didn’t care. You didn’t care that your breathing was uneven, that your heart was a wild, desperate drum in your chest. His mouth was hot, relentless, his touch bruising as his fingers dug into your hips.

Your back hit the edge of your bed, and his weight pressed against you, your knees giving way, the mattress beneath you giving a soft creak. His lips never left yours, a furious, hungry dance, his breath mingling with yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, making a gasp slip past your lips.

“Jungwon—” His name was a whisper, a plea, a curse.

“I knew it,” he breathed against your mouth, his voice rough, almost desperate. “Knew you wanted this. Knew you were lying.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, but your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, your lips finding his again, silencing the words that cut too deep.

His weight settled over you, one knee pressing against the mattress beside your hip, the other nestled between your thighs, causing your pleated school skirt to rise a little. You could feel his muscular thigh being pressed flush against your throbbing, hot core. You gasped, his lips trailed down your jaw, a shiver racing down your spine as his teeth grazed the soft skin of your neck.

But then he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his breathing harsh, his eyes dark and wild.

“Should we continue?” His voice was low, strained, his lips swollen, his gaze burning.

The air was thick, the world blurring at the edges. Part of you screamed to shove him away, to end this madness. But your body betrayed you, your fingers still curled in his shirt, your lips tingling with the taste of him.

“Y/N?” His voice was softer now, almost hesitant.

And you didn’t know how to answer. Because you didn’t want to lose this feeling, this fierce, aching, desperate hunger. But you were also terrified of what would happen if you let it go any further.

“Jungwon…” Your voice was a whisper, your chest rising and falling beneath his.

“Please. Please, Y/N. I can’t restrain myself.. please tell me you want this.” Jungwon’s voice was strained, his words came out through clenched teeth.

A quiet, shuddering breath slipped from your lips. “Yes.”

The second the word left you, his mouth was on yours again, rough, hungry, almost desperate. His kiss was a fever, a wild clash of teeth and tongues, his hands gripping your waist like you might disappear if he let go.

You were drowning in him, in the heat of his touch, in the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, in the way his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, leaving a scorching path down your neck.

“Jungwon—” His name was a gasp, swallowed by his mouth against your skin. But he didn’t slow. If anything, he grew hungrier, his hands tugging your school shirt higher, the fabric bunched beneath your arms before he impatiently yanked it over your head, tossing it aside, revealing your bra-covered breasts.

“Look at you,” he breathed, his voice rough, almost disbelieving. His gaze raked over you, the bare skin of your chest rising and falling beneath him, your cheeks flushed, your lips swollen. “You pretend you hate me… but you’re already so..desperate.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, but your voice was a breathless whine, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer.

“Make me.” His lips were on you again, his hands tracing the curve of your waist, your hips, your thighs. His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your skirt, and without warning, he tugged it down along with your panties, allowing the cool air to kiss your heated skin.

A needy whimper slipped from you, your thighs instinctively pressing together, but his hands were there, parting them, his mouth leaving a burning trail down your stomach.

“Jungwon—“

But he was already there, his lips pressing to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers brushed against your core, a light, teasing touch that had your hips arching, a desperate gasp falling from your lips. As his fingers left, a string of your juices kept you two connected.

“Already this wet?” His voice was a low, mocking murmur, but there was a tremor beneath his teasing tone, his own desperation betraying him. “And you were going to act like you didn’t want me.”

“Stop teasing me—” Your voice was a broken, desperate whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, trying to pull him closer.

“I’m not teasing.” His lips traced the soft, sensitive skin of your thigh, his teeth grazing, a quiet, needy sound slipping from you. “I just want you to beg for me.”

“I—” Your voice broke, your pride crumbling beneath the heat of his touch, his fingers slipping against you, slow, agonizing circles. “Please. Pleasee, Jungwon—”

“That’s better.”

His mouth was on you then, hot and wet, his tongue tracing over your clit, each slow, deliberate movement sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. Your hips bucked against him, a desperate, broken moan tearing from your lips.

“Please— please, don’t stop—”

“Greedy, aren’t you?” His voice was a low, muffled whisper against your skin, but he didn’t pull away, if anything, his pace quickened, his tongue flicking, his lips sucking gently, his fingers slipping into you, one, then two, a gasp caught in your throat.

“Jungwon—!”

Every slow, curling motion of his fingers, every flick of his tongue had you spiraling, your thighs trembling, your breath a desperate, broken mess. Your fingers clawed at the sheets, your back arching, his name a frantic chant on your lips.

“You taste so good,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost reverent. “So sweet. So perfect.”

Your hands tightened in his hair, another desperate, breathless cry slipping from you, the tension coiling tighter, tighter—

But then he pulled away, and a sob of frustration escaped you, your thighs instinctively trying to close, but his hands were there, holding them apart, his dark, wild eyes meeting yours.

“Not yet,” he whispered, his voice strained, his breathing just as ragged as yours. “I want you to come when I’m inside you.”

You were already a mess, panting, trembling, a desperate, whiny whimper slipping from your lips as his mouth crashed against yours again. You could taste yourself on his lips, but you didn’t care.

His clothes were a mess of fabric hitting the floor, his bare skin warm against yours, his body pressing you into the mattress, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Tell me you want me,” he breathed, his forehead pressed against yours, his lips brushing against your cheek.

“I want you,” you gasped, your voice breaking. “I want you. Please—”

The desperation in your voice shattered whatever restraint he had left.

His hips pressed against yours, and then he was pushing into you, slow, almost painfully slow, a deep, shuddering groan slipping from his lips, his forehead falling to your shoulder.

“Oh—” The stretch was overwhelming, your body arching, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Jungwon—”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost desperate. “God, you feel so—”

His hips began to move, slow, deep thrusts that stole the breath from your lungs, his lips finding yours again, his kiss a perfect, dizzying mix of heat and hunger.

“Faster, please, faster—”

A strained laugh slipped from him, his teeth grazing your jaw. “So needy.” But he didn’t make you wait, his pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours, the desperate, wet sound of your bodies colliding filling the room, your name a breathless groan on his lips.

“Mphm, pulling me in so good—“

Your thighs tightened around him, each thrust sending a shock of pleasure through you, your gasps and whimpers mingling with his ragged breaths.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his voice a low, rough rasp. “So pretty when you fall apart for me.”

“Jungwon— I can’t— I’m—”

“I’ve got you.” His hand found yours, his fingers threading through yours, pinning your hand against the pillow, his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, deeper. “Let it happen baby, let go for me.”

And with one final, desperate thrust, the tension snapped.

Your vision blurred, a shuddering, broken cry tearing from your lips, your body trembling beneath him, his name a frantic, gasped whisper.

Jungwon’s pace grew frantic, his breathing a ragged mess, his lips finding yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. And then his body shuddered, his grip on you tightening, his forehead resting against yours, a low, shuddering moan slipping from him as he followed you over the edge.

He fucked himself into you, rolling his hips as he pushed his white seed further and further. He flooded your womb, wanted you to feel nothing but him.

Silence settled, heavy, breathless, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm, golden light over your tangled, sweat-slicked bodies.

His head fell against your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck, his lips brushing a lazy, almost tender kiss there.

“Are you okay?” His voice was a quiet, almost hesitant whisper, his fingers tracing gentle circles against your hip.

“I—” You didn’t know what to say, your mind still a dizzy, hazy blur.

But his fingers stayed gentle, his lips brushing against your shoulder, his breath slowing.

—

From That Day On..

It was like a switch had flipped. One taste wasn’t enough. One touch wasn’t enough. They were like two predators starving for each other, and the academy’s walls became a labyrinth of stolen moments.

In the dimly lit corridors between classes, yoyr back would slam against the cool stone wall, Jungwon’s mouth already on yours, his hands slipping beneath your uniform shirt, desperate. His whispered curses, your bitten-back moans, dangerous music that echoed off the empty halls.

Study hall became a battlefield of restraint. He’d watch you from across the room, his fingers gripping his pen too tightly, jaw clenched. And the second the instructor’s back was turned, you’d feel his shoe brushing against your ankle, a silent, electric promise.

Before morning lectures, you two would sneak away behind the storage sheds, you pressed against the rough wooden wall, Jungwon’s lips dragging down your neck, hands hiking up your skirt. After classes, you’d disappear behind the old library, his tie pulled loose, your voice muffled by his palm as you whimpered his name.

And even during class, God, you were reckless. His knee pressed between your legs beneath the shared desk, your breath coming fast as you tried to focus on the board. His quiet, wicked chuckle in your ear when you squirmed, the ghost of his fingers brushing against your thigh.

You were insatiable. Addicted.

But nothing compared to now. The empty classroom you’d slipped into was bathed in the golden light of the afternoon. The door was barely shut before Jungwon’s lips crashed against yours, a feral hunger in the way his hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Keep quiet for me,” he whispered against your lips, the dark, teasing lilt in his voice making your knees weak.

He pushed you back against the teacher’s desk, his body pressing into yours, one thigh wedged between your legs. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan as his mouth traveled down your neck, leaving burning kisses.

But then—

The door swung open.

“Yeah hold on, I think I left my—”

Your heart nearly stopped, and you froze, wide eyes locking with Jungwon’s. But instead of pulling away, his smirk only deepened.

“Stay still,” he breathed against your ear, his voice a low, wicked whisper. His hand slipped beneath your skirt, fingers grazing your thigh, his touch torturously slow, easing up toward your heat.

Your breathing hitched, your fingers clawing at his shoulders as you tried to maintain your composure, biting down hard on your lip to keep silent.

“…Fuck.. I swore it was here.” The voice was closer now, footsteps approaching the front of the classroom.

Jungwon’s fingers pressed further over your clothed clit, the thin fabric of your panties barely doing a thing to the featherlight touch that had your thighs trembling, your entire body screaming at you to move, to moan, to cling to him, but you couldn’t. Not without being caught.

You breath came faster, your chest heaving, and Jungwon’s mouth found your neck again, his tongue tracing slow, heated circles just below your ear.

“You’re shaking,” he teased, his words a mere breath against your skin. “Does it turn you on, Y/N? The thought of getting caught, hm?”

The person at the front of the classroom sighed. “Guess it’s not here.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, tears prickling as the tension twisted inside. You could feel Jungwon’s quiet, muffled laughter against your skin, his fingers now tracing agonizing circles against your inner thigh, just barely avoiding where she needed him most.

The door finally creaked shut, the footsteps fading down the hall.

But Jungwon didn’t stop.

“You did so well,” he murmured, finally letting his hand slide higher, his lips capturing yours again as you gasped, half in relief, half in desperate, pent-up need. “But we’re not done yet.”

—

And here you both were again, in your shared dorm room. The tension from your bickering earlier in class still lingered in the air, but it had twisted into something else entirely. Jungwon leaned back in his desk chair, his head tipped against the backrest, sweat glistening at his hairline. His fingers twisted in your hair, holding it back, keeping it out of your face as you knelt between his thighs.

His hips bucked, unsteady, his cock pushing deeper into the wet heat of your mouth. Your jaw ached, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but the desperate, breathless sounds he made only spurred you on. His voice was rough, a low, shuddering groan escaping him.

“Fuck, gonna cum down your pretty throat, sunshine.” His words were broken, almost pleading, but there was a smug edge to them, his gaze fixed on the sight of your cheeks hollowing around him. Your spit slicked his length, pooling at his base. “Would you like that? Me forcing my seed down your throat?”

You couldn’t answer, not with your mouth full, but you hummed, the sound vibrating around him. His grip tightened, a low, trembling curse falling from his lips.

“I’m cumming—fuck, I’m cumming—” His hips jerked, pushing forward until his pelvis met your lips, his release flooding your mouth, hot and thick. He held you there, his breathing ragged, thrusting lazily as he rode out his high.

You tapped his thigh quickly, a silent plea, and immediately his hold loosened. You pulled back, gasping for air, a string of spit and his release connecting your lips to his cock. Coughs racked your chest as you tried to catch your breath, but he was already leaning forward, his touch gentler now, fingers brushing against your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“Get up,” Jungwon murmured, his voice softer now, but still commanding. He didn’t wait for you to comply. His hands slid under your arms, pulling you to your feet with a surprising strength. The room spun for a second, but then you were in his arms, your knees unsteady as he walked you backward.

The backs of your thighs met the edge of his bed. He guided you down, his mouth finding yours, the kiss messy and heated, a mix of need and something more possessive. His hands wandered, pushing the fabric of your panties down, his weight settling over you as he climbed on top, his lips never leaving yours.

“Still so fucking needy,” he whispered, his teeth grazing your lower lip, his voice dripping with a teasing warmth, but his touch was anything but. It was greedy, desperate, his fingers tracing your thighs, his knee pressing between your legs.

“You didn’t get enough, did you?”

His knee pressed between your thighs, spreading them apart, and you couldn’t stop the needy whimper that slipped from your lips. Jungwon chuckled, the sound low and teasing, but his voice was rougher now, hunger darkening his gaze.

“Look at you, sunshine,” he whispered against your mouth, his fingers trailing downward, tracing the soft skin of your inner thigh. “So eager. Did I fuck your pretty mouth too well? Got you all worked up?”

You shivered beneath him, your hands clutching at the front of his shirt, desperate for something to ground you. He leaned in, his lips trailing along your jaw, down the curve of your neck, each kiss sending heat rushing through you. His teeth grazed your pulse, a soft, teasing nip that had you gasping.

“Jungwon,” you breathed, barely recognizing your own voice, so needy and breathless.

“I know, sunshine.” His touch slid higher, fingertips brushing against your dripping folds, and he smirked against your skin. “Already soaked. You liked it that much?”

Your face burned, but shame was the last thing on your mind. You rolled your hips, pressing into his touch, chasing the friction. He chuckled again, but this time there was a hint of something darker, something possessive.

“Don’t get shy now,” he murmured, his lips finding yours again, his kiss slow and heated. His fingertips dipped inside your entrance and a sharp gasp tore from your throat. But he only pulled them back out, continuing circling. “I want to hear you, sunshine. Want to feel you come undone for me.”

His fingers teased you, slow and deliberate, tracing delicate circles that left you trembling beneath him. His other hand found yours, guiding it up above your head, his fingers lacing with yours, pinning you down. His grip was firm, a silent reminder of just how much control he had, but his touch was anything but cruel. It was maddening, achingly slow, every movement coaxing desperate, breathy whimpers from you.

“Please,” you whispered, barely able to think, your body arching beneath him.

“Please what?” He dragged his fingers through your slickness, teasing your entrance, but never giving you what you needed. “Use your words, sunshine.”

“Please—need you. Need you so bad.”

He smiled against your mouth, a satisfied hum vibrating against your lips. “There we go.”

In one smooth movement, he slipped two fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit, and you cried out, your body arching beneath him. He moved with a slow, steady rhythm, curling his fingers just right, each thrust coaxing sweet, desperate sounds from you.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a soothing, wicked whisper against your ear. “Such a good girl. Taking me so well.”

Your breathing quickened, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure, the heat building with every movement of his fingers, every gentle press of his thumb. His lips were at your ear, his voice a dark, soothing melody.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he whispered, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “All mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your fingers tightening in his shirt, clinging to him.

“Good.” His lips trailed down your neck again, sucking a dark mark into your skin, a brand of his own. “Then come for me. Let me feel it.”

His words sent you over the edge. Pleasure crashed through you, your body tensing beneath him, your cries muffled against his shoulder as you shuddered in his hold. He didn’t let up, coaxing you through every wave of your release, his touch gentle, his voice a soothing murmur.

When your breathing finally began to slow, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his fingers slipping free of your soaked folds. He brought them to his lips, his dark eyes locked on yours as he licked them clean, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Sweet as ever, sunshine.”

Jungwon’s tongue swept over his fingers, eyes never leaving yours, and the hunger in his gaze only seemed to deepen. He leaned back slightly, hands sliding to your thighs, his touch firm but teasing. His lips found yours again, the kiss rough and greedy, his teeth grazing your lower lip.

“You’re so desperate for me, sunshine,” he whispered, the words dripping with smug satisfaction. “All that attitude in class, but look at you now. Barely keeping it together.”

You whimpered against his mouth desperatly. He laughed softly, the sound warm against your lips, but there was a rough edge to it now, his self-control starting to fray.

“Impatient too,” he murmured.

He pulled back just enough to unbutton his shirt, shrugging it off, the toned lines of his chest and shoulders revealed beneath the soft light of the room. Your gaze wandered over him, and he smirked, catching you staring.

“Like what you see?”

You didn’t have the breath to answer, especially when he leaned down again, his lips trailing along your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses that sent shivers racing down your spine. His hands slipped beneath your blouse, pushing it up, and he wasted no time, his mouth finding the sensitive skin just above your chest, nipping, sucking, marking you.

His fingers tugged the fabric higher, his touch rough but never careless, and soon your blouse joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. His gaze swept over you, hungry, possessive, his tongue brushing his lips.

“Gorgeous,” he breathed, his voice lower now, thick with want. His hand slid down between your thighs again, his fingers tracing over your soaked folds, and he chuckled. “Still so wet for me. Pathetic, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, hips arching into his touch, and his teasing smile faded just slightly, his pupils dark and blown wide with desire.

But when you tried to turn your head, the lingering bite of your pride making you look away, his grip tightened, forcing your gaze back to his.

“You keep trying to beat me,” he murmured, his voice a dangerous, silken whisper. “But you can’t even stop thinking about me.”

His words cut through the haze of your need, shame and longing twisting together in your chest, but your body betrayed you. His fingers pressed harder against your soaked core, and you trembled, a desperate whimper escaping your lips.

“Admit it, sunshine,” he taunted, leaning in, his lips ghosting over yours. “All that defiance—just a cover. All you really want is for me to ruin you.”

You shook your head, a shaky gasp slipping free, but it was pointless, the ache between your legs giving you away. He was already hard again, the sight of your flushed skin and desperate little whimpers clearly driving him mad.

He settled between your legs, his tip brushing against your entrance, and you shuddered, a desperate plea escaping your lips.

“Please, Jungwon.”

“Please what?” He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “Want me to fuck you, sunshine? Want me to ruin you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a gasp. “Need you.”

His control snapped. With one smooth, forceful thrust, he buried himself inside you, a rough groan tearing from his throat. The stretch was intense, your body adjusting around him, and his hands found your wrists, pinning them above your head against the mattress.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his forehead pressing against yours, his voice shaking just slightly. “So tight, so fucking perfect.”

His hips pulled back, only to snap forward again, a harsh rhythm that had you gasping beneath him. He set a brutal pace, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure racing through you, your cries muffled against his mouth as he claimed your lips again. His teeth tugged at your lower lip, his breath hot against your cheek, but his composure was crumbling, his thrusts growing faster, more desperate.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice rough and breathless. “Taking me so well. Such a good girl, aren’t you?”

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and the sound he made was almost a growl, his grip on your wrists tightening. His name fell from your lips in broken, pleading gasps, and he shuddered, his rhythm faltering for a second.

“Gonna make you cum again, sunshine,” he promised, his thumb finding your swollen clit, rubbing fast, rough circles. “Wanna feel you squeeze me. Want you to scream my name.”

The pleasure built like a fire, your body arching beneath him, your cries growing louder, desperate. His thrusts grew erratic, his breathing harsh against your ear.

“Cum for me,” he growled. “Now.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body tensing beneath him, a sharp cry ripping from your throat. Your walls clenched around him, and he swore, his hips slamming into you, losing his rhythm as he chased his own release.

“Fuck, fuck—” His voice broke, his hands gripping your wrists almost painfully, his release spilling inside you, hot and thick. He rode out his high, his movements slowing, his breath ragged against your skin.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your shared breathing, the heat of his body pressing against yours. Then, slowly, he let your wrists go, his touch gentler now. He leaned back slightly, his gaze meeting yours, the teasing smugness gone, replaced by something softer, almost dazed…

[leenashiftss]

Trouble-C.SB

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿

in which your sweet boyfriend finally snaps

tw: degradation, praise, dryhumping(?) idk honestly just pure filth

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿ Choi Soobin, the campus heartthrob. He had that first love look. Handsome as all get out. Soft and sweet, like cherry blossoms in the spring.

You’ve had a huge crush on Choi Soobin since you met him. As far as you could tell, everything about him was perfect. Huge stature, adorable dimples, deep black locks, an irresistible smile… you could go on for hours talking about him. You were smitten, so imagine your surprise when he ended up reciprocating those feelings.

You two met through your mutual friend Beomgyu at a party, and a couple months later started dating. Your relationship was perfect by all standards. You two adored and doted on each other. All of the kisses and cuddles were amazing but you couldn’t help but feel restless for one reason:

Soobin wouldn’t touch you. 

Well, of course he would hug you. Maybe an innocent peck or cuddling during movie night at your apartment, but never anything past that. Every time you would try to escalate things, he would discreetly turn your advances down. It went on like this for seven months. It was excruciating. Not to mention the fact that he looked so good all the damn time. You couldn’t help wanting him to break you. This was a fact you wrestled with in your mind on the daily. It’s as if he actively tried to ignore you whenever you rubbed up against him a certain way, or when you rubbed your thighs together provocatively. Despite this, you didn’t fail to notice the change in his gaze when you tried to provoke him, or the clench in his jaw when you wore a short skirt. Something was going on. There was a deeper, darker version of your soft, sweet boyfriend that you were so desperate to uncover. All the times you thought he wasn’t paying you attention, you couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

Soobin noticed, alright. Like when you looked just too good in that pretty little outfit of yours before your date, and he had to sneak off to relieve himself, imagining his large hands were your mouth, innocent eyes batting up at him; when you sat on his lap, intending to cuddle but ending up putting pressure on where he needed it most. It took everything in him not to hold you by the waist and mercilessly rut into you; When he would walk past a lingerie store, imagining what he would do to you in all of those raunchy costumes. Soobin was well aware of his perverted tendencies, but he held back so that he wouldn’t corrupt his innocent princess. You had no idea what you were doing, teasing him like that…right? He made sure to keep up the puppy love act, but god damn did you make it hard.

——————————-

Soobin invited you over to the dorm he shared with his friends. The two of you often alternated houses to hang out at, and it was his turn. It started off casual, you and his group of friends (plus Gyu, who was of course your friend as well) were hanging out. The conversation seemed endless, and equally as hilarious. At some point, however, you got a little tired and began to zone out, laying your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder. In the midst of all of the ruthless jokes and potentially rude comebacks, a particular comment caught your attention. “I’m sure you would, Soobin, you’re freaky as hell!”  Beomgyu jokes.  Like clockwork, the whole room of men erupted into laughter, poking fun at Soobin for his alleged sexual deviancy. This was news to you, because you’ve always known your boyfriend as a borderline abstinent angel. You look up at him confused as he defends himself with a defiant grin on his face. He shakes his head as he looks down on you “don’t pay attention to them, baby”. You huff as he shuts them up. You were hoping that finally you’d be able to uncover why Soobin is the way he is with you. After another hour of conversation, games and bickering, the group of men leave out to go to some party you heard them talking about. This was your chance, you decided. You were determined to get to the bottom of his behavior, and finally get him to crack. 

The two of you headed into his room to “cuddle” but you obviously had other plans. Soobin, dressed in a black beater and grey sweatpants, looked way too sexy to not pounce on. As he sat on the edge of the bed, you straddled him, a troubled look apparent on your face. “What’s my princess upset about?” Soobin coos as he strokes your face. 

“What were the guys talking about back there?” You ask. 

“What, about me being ‘freaky’?” He said, making air quotation marks with his fingers. “Ignore them. You know they’re rage baiters” 

“But you know…” you trailed off, playing with the drawstrings on his sweatpants. “Most jokes have a little bit of truth in them!” You say as you looked up at him and smile. Much to your excitement, you were met with a darker gaze and more serious expression. The same one he had when you dressed up extra cute for him, or when you held a kiss for an extended period of time. As far as you could tell, you were one step closer to your goal. 

“Baby…” Soobin begins, using his large hands to stop your own in their tracks. “You don’t want to do this.” He remarks. Gazing into your pretty eyes for any hint of uncertainty. There was zero. You both were in far too deep.

“Binnie !” You say, breaking the silence. Eyebrows knitted in frustration, you continue. “I want you so bad. I’m so sick of all the heated make out sessions ending in cuddles. I’m sick of going to bed all hot n bothered. I don’t understand why you don’t want to touch m-“ he kisses you, silencing your complains instantly. Releasing his hold on your hands he uses one to grab your head, deepening the kiss, and the other to pull on your waist. He pulls away, leaving you dazed, looking up at him with those big eyes he can’t resist. You feel heat pooling between your legs.

“I don’t want to touch you? What a load of bullshit” he says, almost threateningly. “To think I’ve been holding myself back for all this time in fear of corrupting you. My innocent little princess” he says the last part almost mockingly. “Turns out you wanted it this whole time. My baby wants nothing more than to be slutted out by her binnie hm? Wanna be split open on my cock?” He teases, every word going straight to your aching core. You remain silent, shocked at this new side of him. Nodding slowly , you move your hips to start grinding on him. He stops you in your tracks “be a big girl and use your words, yeah princess?”. “Yes Soobin” you say shyly, not expecting him to be this intense. You weren’t complaining though. But regardless, you have this ridiculously sexy man in front of you, making you clench around nothing with every word he says. You can’t help but be shy. “Yes what?” He deadpans. You shake your head “it’s embarrassing…” you trail off. “Okay then.” Soobin guides you off of him and onto the bed, he makes his way to his closet and shuffles around for a bit. Confused , you sit up on your knees and look at him with anticipation. As he turns around, your gaze shifts to his hand, which was carrying a belt. “Bin what are you doing with that?” You inquire, a million possibilities swimming through your head at once. He then roughly grabs you by your wrists and ties the belt taught behind your back. When he’s done, he pushes you on your back harshly and begins undoing his pants. Beaming with anticipation, you rub your thighs together, but nothing comes. That’s when you realize that you made a mistake.

“Naughty girls who don’t use their words don’t get touched” says Soobin with a cocky smirk on his face, twinged with pleasure. You look down and there he is pumping his hard cock. Your mouth waters as you watch his hand slide up and down his length, wondering how it would even fit. Nevermind that though. The lewd sight in front of you turned you on so much to the point where your panties were completely soaked, your slick dribbling onto his gray sheets. “Binnie please” you croaked, sheer desperation coating your voice. “Hm? What does my little slut want” he asked. “You Binnie, please! Want you! Want you to ruin me…” you cry out. You’ve waited so long for this, you feel like you’re going to burst. Soobin chuckles darkly before pulling his boxers back up. “I like hearing you beg”. He gets back on the bed and hovers over you. He begins undressing you, starting with your shirt, and bra, but leaving your tiny shorts on. Going onto his toned forearms, he hovers over you, kissing you deeply, as he explores your mouth with dominance, you feel his cock pressing up against your thigh. Soobin continued his ministrations down your body, biting and sucking as he sees fit, tainting your pretty skin with his own perversion. “Let me see you,” you hear him utter, before he rips your shorts off, groaning in satisfaction. He thrusts your legs open and stations himself between them, hot breath fanning over your clothed core, “Look at my pretty baby,” he coos, “who made you all wet like that hm? How needy.” You buck your hips up towards his face, desperate for any sort of friction. “Soobin please!” You moan out in frustration at his brutal teasing. “Shut up slut” he retorts, burying his head in your thighs as he begins sucking your clit through the fabric of your parties. “Fffuck” you moan out, back arching despite your wrists still being bound. Your boyfriend continues terrorizing your pussy through your underwear, licking and sucking as much as he wants. When he decides he’s had enough teasing he pulls them off of you and begins eating you out as if he was starved. At this point you are a moaning mess. “Shit you taste good baby” he moans through kisses and licks, only pleasuring you more. Just as you were meeting your release, Soobin pulled away, earning a choked sob from you. “Wanna cum that bad huh? If you stop whining like a whore I’ll let you cum on my fingers” he says looking at you mockingly. Sniffling, you nod. He sticks one of his long slender fingers in you, earning a loud moan as you clench around him. “Fuck you’re tight. This is how you get when I don’t touch you?”. He asks as he begins pumping it in and out of you. “Mhmm…mhmm” you moan out pathetically in response to him. “What did I tell you about using your words? Such a naughty bunny,” he says as he abruptly pulls his finger out of you. Your pussy clenched around nothing at his nickname, desperate to be filled again. Rather than indulgence, however, you were met with a harsh slap on your core, back arching off the bed, you moaned out in both pain and pleasure. “‘M sorry Binnie” you sob, every ounce of respect for yourself thrown out the window. “I’ll be good I promise, I’ll be a good girl!” He hums as he lands another slap on you, biting his lip at your reaction, before plunging two fingers in you this time, then three. Until you’re threatening release. “You gonna cum pretty girl?” He asks, met with an incoherent string of ‘yes’ and ‘please’s from you. “Go ahead bunny, cum on my fingers like the good little slut you are.” You let out one last exasperated moan as you cum on his fingers, legs shaking with your release.

Soobin doesn’t stop. Taking his fingers out of your gushing hole, he begins to lap at your juices. “Binnie I can’t!” You say, squirming with overstimulation. He doesn’t care. “I’ve waited this long to taste you, let Binnie have this one little thing, okay baby?” He says between lapping at your sobbing pussy. When he was finally finished, he came up from your legs and captured your lips in another passionate kiss. Tasting yourself on his wet face, you moan in satisfaction. Soobin abruptly pulls away and begins undressing again. Taking his shirt off as well this time. “Look baby,” he says as he pulls out his throbbing cock. “It’s what you’ve been begging for all night” he begins as he rubs the tip through your folds.”Please Binnie I need you” you moan out. He just chuckles. “Such a little slut, begging for my cock like this.”

In one motion, Soobin throws your legs on his shoulders slides in your aching cunt,and begins pounding into you mercilessly. You loudly moan out, not used to the insane stretch of his dick. He doesn’t even give you time to adjust, he just keeps pounding at your cervix. “You think I haven’t noticed?” He says, staring into your fucked out face, eyebrows knotted with a stern expression. “How you keep teasing me? I tried to be a good boyfriend and hold back but you’re such a whore that you couldn’t take it anymore.” He continues his bullying, “And then you have the audacity to be a brat—fuck—when all you wanted was for me to pound this cute little pussy of yours. Who knew my baby was such a filthy slut.” His hands migrate to your neck, putting enough pressure on it to make you delirious but not enough to hurt you. “Come on baby, come on my cock like the good little slut you are, you can do it,” he says as his hips stutter in arousal. He was almost at his limit, and you were too. “Come on baby, one more. One more and I’ll pump you full of my cum juuust like you wanted..” his dirty words sent you over the edge as your release came crashing down. Triggered by the rapid clenching of your heat, Soobin cums too, stilling himself in order to make sure your walls were drenched in his release. 

After sliding out and uniting the belt binding your wrists, Soobin flops down next to you. “Sorry baby, I was just so pent up, are you okay?” He says as he fixes his gaze on your panting figure. “Mhm” you hum in reassurance. 

“So…you wanna do this more often?” Soobin says with a grin.

You asked for trouble. You got it. 

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵

Guys this is my first fic hope u enjoy hehe♡(˃͈ ˂͈ )