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capslocked · 1 year ago

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KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight.

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."

#hyewon smut #izone smut #izone hyewon smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

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jungkookstatts · 11 months ago

Text

As Thunder Rolls

[Summary]: You know Taehyung is the one. You knew it since the first day you saw him, when thunder rolled through the sky. But your lives don't collide. They might be too different to choose both.

[Theme]: Rich Reader, Law Student Reader, Construction Worker TH, Poor TH, Rich Girl Poor Boy AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes, sexual content, unprotected sex, kissing, making out, marking, angst, familial separation, topics of class, and triggering opinions of some characters

[Word Count]: 8,296

[A/N]: First TH fic!! I hope it is enjoyable~ This might be my last fic for a little bit. Going to be focusing on school and working really hard until the summertime :)

People say that when you fall in love, your life develops new meaning. They say that your life changes as you fall, and you watch it spiral out of your control over a silly feeling you can’t help.

You can say that the people, whoever they may be, are correct. Love happened to you quite unexpectedly, and completely out of the box you put your goals for the future inside.

Taehyung happened during the city's worst monsoon season in over 50 years. His rain-stained jeans and dirty white construction t-shirt clung to his skin, showing you all of his tanned glory as the rain fell angrily. You stood on the top step of your sister’s corporate building, looking down at him three steps below you.

“You got a spare umbrella, by chance?” he asked you. Caramel-colored, wet hair covered his forehead. But you could still see the discomfort in his eyes due to the harsh rain.

Looking at your own umbrella in your grip, you shook your head, telling him that this was your only one.

“You know a place around here where I can find one?” he asked.

“I’m not familiar with the area,” you explained.

“Me neither,” he smiled as he looked down at his red Converse.

There was an uncomfortable feeling in your chest. You felt bad for the guy, clearly well-underprepared for the season. Your designer coat and accessories terribly clashed with his, an obvious difference in class confronted you in the face. There was a feeling of fear, you remember. Back then, you used to be one of those people who thought terribly of people like him. Thinking that he’d ask for your Burberry umbrella and never return it. You thought maybe he’d pull you aside and forcibly rob you of your money just because his shirt had a few stains and the brand name of the city’s lower-end construction company was written on the fabric. You associated him with the worst of the worst, just because of his class. Or rather, assumed class.

But those eyes captured your soul. They were warm, and his smile sent medicine to your heart, healing all those presumed thoughts and replacing them with the benefit of the doubt.

“I think there is a 7/11 around the block,” you recalled from your memory.

Thunder rolled through the city skies, and you clutched your umbrella harder. You never liked thunderstorms. There was a sense of urgency to get home to avoid any more of this growing storm, and fast. But this guy — you wanted to continue talking to him.

He raised an eyebrow at you, looking to his left.

You raised your chest, nervously pointing in the opposite direction.

“Down there,” you corrected him.

“Ah,” he smiled. It was faint, but you noticed his upper lip formed the shape of a heart before another roll of thunder drummed through the sky. You winced, and his smile faded.

“I’ll let you be on your way, then,” he said. “Thank you.”

You nodded, and he suddenly turned his back, walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the vague 7/11 down the street. He hiked the back collar of his t-shirt over his head, creating a small hat to shield his eyes from the unwanted shower. You watched the exposed skin on the small of his back as raindrops trickled into the hem of his jeans.

Suddenly, your heart skipped in your chest, and you did something your carefully formed character would never allow.

“W-Wait,” you stumbled. The click of your heeled boots rang in your ears as you walked down the small set of stairs and onto the sidewalk.

The man turned around, his posture straightening at the sight of you.

Quickly, you went to him, covering his head with your umbrella.

“I-I’ll come with you,” you offered.

His close proximity flooded all of your senses. Your fingers visibly began to shake, and you had to remind yourself to breathe when you saw how tremendous the height difference was between the two of you.

“Thank you,” he softly said.

At that moment, you knew your life changed. You saw yourself in his eyes, maybe staring a little too long for two strangers who hadn’t even exchanged names yet. But you looked into them, and somehow the raging storm had transferred from the sky into your heart.

You became a jumbled mess after then, as Taehyung had exchanged his name with yours, along with all of his habits, hobbies, and love.

Every day after that was filled with giggles and kisses and sleepless nights wrapped in his sheets. He had shown you the other side of the world, and you accepted it with him by your side. He took things from you you couldn’t imagine anyone else being worthy enough to take. All your firsts, and what you hope, all your lasts, too.

But something had been sitting at the back of your mind ever since you laid eyes on him, creating an unsettling feeling.

He was, indeed, nowhere near the class you grew up in. Living in the worst part of the city with his younger brother and sister and parents in a small, 2-bedroom apartment. He worked overtime on most days; all of his earnings he gave to his mother was to pay rent. His brother had just become old enough to help out. However, Taehyung explained that he caught him a few times slacking — the young boy claiming that he was working but instead at the casino with his friends. His younger sister was 6 years old and by far the sweetest young girl you knew. She became someone like your own sister, someone you chose to connect with on a level you weren’t able to do with your own siblings. His father fell ill a few years ago and became unable to work a demanding job. Instead, he and his wife work at their own small grocery store on the lower level of the building down the street.

His family welcomed you generously, never once commenting on your class, never once making it a topic of conversation. They called you their daughter.

What was unsettling was not the circumstances involving his family. It was the circumstances involving your own.

You hadn’t mentioned him to your parents by choice. You knew how they would react, especially considering your father had already begun selecting the sons of his most trusted colleagues to propose a marriage. Though you are not ashamed of Taehyung, your family would most definitely be. They would never accept him as your love. It would be too tarnishing to their name, too embarrassing to taint the family with someone whose house costs less than their dining room table.

You kept Taehyung out of it, which doesn’t necessarily mean he won’t stop asking about meeting your family. He’s serious enough about you to want to take things further. But it puts you in an awkward situation, like now. Gasping into the sheets of his bed, his dick pulling out of you as cum falls down your thighs.

“Baby?” he pants, hovering over you and kissing up your shoulder to your cheek. He’s still catching his breath, as are you. He just railed the fuck out of you and still begs for conversation? You will never understand this man.

“Hm,” you ask, resting your head on your forearm in a desperate attempt to control your breathing.

“I want to meet your parents,” he bites the shell of your ear gently.

You groan loudly, tired of this topic of conversation. It seems to be the only thing on his mind these days.

In the two years you two had been dating, Tae was finally able to afford a place of his own while still helping his family. His brother stepped up and managed to land a good position at a nearby company that really helped with the family finances. Hence, Taehyung’s newfound freedom from the cramped space with his family. But ever since he moved into his new apartment two weeks ago, he’s been set on (a) “christening” every nook and cranny of his new place with you and (b) meeting your family.

“Baby, can we not talk about this right now?” you press your fingers to your temple before running them into your hair.

“We never have talked about it,” he reminds you. You pause, knowing he’s right. You’ve always swayed him away from saying anything about the topic other than simply asking to talk about it.

“Why would you want to meet my parents,” you begin. You feel him smile a little, happy to start this long-awaited talk.

“Because you met mine,” he slides his elbows under your armpits, resting his chin on your shoulder. You feel secure when he’s holding you like this, his chest embracing your back as he lets his weight rest on your body. If only the moment wasn’t ruined by the topic of conversation.

“I don’t want you to meet my parents,” you finally say. You know his heart broke a little from your words, being such a family man. But you feel obligated to be honest about this.

“What? Why not?” he crinkles his eyebrows together, pressing his nose into your cheek.

“Because, Tae,” you sigh into your palm. “They’re not…nice people.”

He lets the two of you sit in silence for a while, and you know he knows what you mean by that.

“It’s because I have no money, isn’t it?” he finally lets out.

You grab his hand, drawing circles into his palm.

“Essentially,” you sigh. It doesn’t feel good to admit that. Disappointment floods your veins for him, wishing your family was less shallow. Maybe then, your response would have been different. “You know I don’t care about that stuff. But they…they do.”

“Your siblings?” he asks.

“They’re all like that,” you continue, playing with his knuckles. “I’m the only one, it seems, that isn’t.”

He plays with your hand, sliding into your fingers to hold it.

“Do you wish you were?” he whispers seriously.

“No,” you laugh.

Finally, you turn around in his embrace, looking at his face from beneath him. This man is truly the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on. Your palm holds the soft skin of his cheek as you search his eyes.

“Growing up, I used to be a little bit,” you admit. “But then I came to university. And I met you,” you rub his cheek with your thumb. “And you kind of flipped my whole world around.”

“Sorry,” he smiles. “Wasn’t the plan,” he pecks your lips. “I just needed an umbrella.”

You chuckle at that, pulling his face against yours to sear your lips into his. He accepts you, breathing into the kiss with chapped cherry lips and a big stupid blush on his face.

“I just want their blessing,” he clears his throat. “I-Is all.”

“For?” you peck his lips again.

“For me to date their daughter, amongst other things,” he laughs through his nose. “It’s also been…a little while.”

You do feel bad, as he had introduced you to his family about three months into dating. It’s been two years, and your family doesn’t even know you are dating someone.

“You’ll meet them when they have a reason to meet you,” you sigh against his nose. “They’re like that. It has to be on their terms, not mine or yours.”

“Hopefully, that’s sometime soon,” he says before kissing you deeply. You let him, wanting his lips to erase the scenarios you’ve let flood into your head of Taehyung meeting your family. You kiss him, asking him to heal you again, to give you the endless positivity he has within himself. But you can’t shake it this time around. You have a bad feeling about it, every time you think about making things just that more official with your family meeting him. You know Taehyung is it for you. But will your parents accept that? Your gut twists and turns at the thought, your answer spelled out for you.

___

Law school used to be interesting.

Back when lectures were shorter and the professors actually cared about their job, you had a fun time. Now, you sit through your lectures with the palm of your hand dragging the skin of your cheek upward as you lean against it. You stare at the oldest fart of a professor talk in circles, “womp wo-womp womp”, like in the Charlie Brown phone scenes. The only thing that keeps you from dozing off is the thought of your date tonight.

Last week, Taehyung had been working at this new site at this development on the other side of the city. They put in a fountain lake, with three willow trees (your favorite). Your boyfriend, of course, knew this and set up the idea of a picnic date along the new Willow Tree Lake. Just the thought alone makes you giddy.

These days, Taehyung has been working terrible overtime in an area near campus. Something about the pipes being plugged with slow-forming concrete from a newer company that started off just a few months ago. They fucked up a lot of the city’s piping, and of course, the company Tae works for has been assigned to fix all of their damage.

Needless to say, you feel like you haven’t seen him in ages. Only quick cell phone calls and tired texts in the small hours of the morning and night. You miss him terribly, and your body springs to life when the professor calls the end of the lecture. It’s your last one of the day, and you nearly run out to make your way to your car, ready to start preparing for your date tonight.

You’re met with a surprise, however, when you exit your dorm.

A chalky hand grabs onto your wrist, intertwining his fingers with yours, before pulling you into his chest.

“Hi, baby,” he smiles sheepishly.

“Tae!” you squeal, letting go of his hand and jumping into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, his own around your waist as he spins you in the open air of the campus. You giggle against him, quietly screaming when he goes a little fast. Eventually, he lets your feet feel the ground again, and you feel a strong urge to kiss him. It’s been so long.

“You’re so chalky,” you brush at his face, white powder smearing on his skin.

With that, he shakes out his hair onto yours, white dust falling onto your skin.

“Ah! Tae!” You shield your face from his assault. But he’s unrelenting, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, his big hands stroking your cheek. You don’t let him go on for too long, still not one to be too fond of PDA like he is.

“Oh, fuck,” Taehyung’s smile fades when he looks at your dress.

“Wha—” you look down at your dress, your white Chanel dress, covered in soot and powder and dirt, transferred from his clothes onto yours. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he gulps, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I wasn’t thinki—”

“It’s okay,” you smile, holding his hand. “Nothing my dad won’t buy a carbon copy of with a good excuse. To him, I fell. Plain and simple.”

Your words don’t do much, his sorry expression written all over his face still. You cup his cheek, reassuring him.

“What are you doing here, anyways?” you change the subject.

“The pipe issue I told you about ended up going into some apartment building. They sent me up there and the ceiling fell in. Hence all the…white stuff and dust,” he shows you his powdery hands, as if his cheeks and hair weren’t enough to prove his story. “Anyway, the civil engineers ended up needing to go back to the main building and find a new plan to go about it. So they sent us all home early. Thought I would come and surprise you.”

“It worked,” you kiss him again.

“I should probably go though,” he cuts the time short. “I want to shower before our date.”

“That would be nice, you’re right,” you laugh. “I’ll see you at 7, then?”

“Mhm,” he squeezes your hand again before looking down at your dress one last time. You can tell he’s still beating himself up over it when he tightly runs his hands through his hair and sends you a tight-lipped smile as if still saying sorry. You send him one back, letting him know it’s okay. And with that, he leaves your presence.

You’re alone until you reach home a little past 4. When you walked into your house, the last thing you were expecting was your eldest sister, brother, and parents waiting for you in the dining room.

“D-Did I miss something?” you laugh awkwardly. They all seem to be looking at you, disappointment or disgust written on their faces at the sight of your dress. You do your best to hide it with your purse.

“No,” your sister starts. “But we seem to be missing the part where you let dirty construction workers make out with you in public.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet, a cold heat spreading throughout your body.

“Susanna,” you pinch the skin between your eyebrows. “It’s not like that.”

“Please, enlighten us, then,” she snobs.

You take a breath, ready to explain yourself. But your father stops you.

“Invite the boy over,” he calmly states.

“What?” all four of you say at once.

“Dad, are you crazy?” your brother laughs. “He’s a construction worker.”

“Ren, please,” you attempt to control your anger. You don’t like the way they are talking about him right now. Only mentioning his job and ignoring the rest.

“What, don’t like me talking down on your pet?” he smiles, doing his best to get under your skin. It’s working, that’s for sure.

“Seriously, darling, what are you thinking?” your mother puts her hand on your father's arm.

“The boy clearly has feelings for my daughter,” he sets down his brandy on the dining table. “And, if I’m not mistaken, she has the same feelings.”

Your sister looks at you in disgust, wondering how you could ever fall for someone so low class.

“Besides, he owes me a good explanation for destroying your clothes,” he clears his throat. “That was custom designed.”

—

You run to your car after the ‘meeting’ your family welcomed you home with. Your hands shake and tremble, trying to start the car without bursting into tears.

Without even calling him, you race to Taehyung’s apartment, knocking on his door with panic laced in every vein of your body.

He opens it, a big smile warming your heart. But it quickly fades at the pale look on your face.

“What’s wrong,” he pulls you into his apartment.

He’s showered since you last saw him. He changed into his PJs, not yet ready to get into his outfit for your date tonight. On any other day, you would be struck with the comfy boyfriend look, ready to pounce into his arms and hold him close until the sun rose. But not today. Today, you have uncertainty flowing through your veins. Could this be the end? Could this be the start of something new? What will happen between now and midnight?

“Baby, talk to m—”

“My parents want to meet you,” you interrupt him.

“What?”

“T-They want to meet you,” you say again. “Actually, my entire family wants to meet you. Today. Tonight. For dinner. At my house.”

You watch him take it all in, his expression changing rapidly into emotions you can’t really put a label on. You’ve never seen this expression on his face. You’re sure it’s a bit of excitement, as he’s always wanted to meet them. But also a little bit of worry, as you’ve told him what they think of people like him.

“I-Is this about the dress?” he asks worriedly.

“Kind of!” you panic, your hands running through your hair. Frustrated tears flood your eyes. You’re just so frustrated with this situation. With your sister, with your brother and dad. With everyone but Taehyung. He doesn’t deserve this. “My sister saw us today, apparently. A-And she went to my parents, a-and they were waiting for me when I got home, along with my brother. My dad was the one who suggested you come over, and I don’t know why. I can’t read what any of them are trying to say.”

“Hey,” he grabs your shoulders. You start to cry, fat tears falling down your cheeks.

“This is not how I wanted today to go,” you cry-laugh to yourself.

“I know,” he kisses your forehead. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you candor as you fall into his neck, sobbing against his shirt.

His big palms rub your back. You’re sure he’s a little shocked right now. You’ve told him about your family. About what kind of people they are. You’re sure he’s scared, too. You hate this. You wish you could just run away and avoid it all.

“Let’s start with figuring out what I’m going to wear, yeah?” he gently smiles down at you.

___

Dinner is awkward. So awkward.

It’s quiet, and your leg bounces rapidly in your seat.

Your parents hadn’t let Taehyung sit next to you. Rather, he sits across from you, unable to soothe your nerves with a hand on your thigh or palm.

Your sister and brother sit next to you, your parents on either end of the table. There are two empty seats next to Taehyung, him being closest to your father.

You’re sure your siblings had interrogated him a little when your mother forced you to change into something else when the two of you got here. Clad in a pink flowy dress and a braid, you nervously made your way down the stairs and into the dining room, only to find your boyfriend in front of his seat, nodding to the space between your siblings as your own.

Since the appetizers came in, no one had spoken a word.

It’s terribly uncomfortable, and you try to distract yourself by silently telling Taehyung to put his napkin in his lap instead of next to his plate. Your brother laughs, and you jab your elbow into his side.

“So,” your father starts. His voice sends a shock down your spine. “I’m sure you have a good explanation for the dress.”

Your nerves spike the highest they’ve ever been. The dress isn’t really that important. Had it been anyone else, maybe someone your father knew or liked, the dress would be replaced without a word the next day. His pressure on the dress with Tae makes you think he will use it against him, causing you to bounce both of your legs up and down rapidly.

“Yes, I—” you start, but your father raises his palm slightly, telling you to stay quiet and let him answer.

“Yes,” Taehyung clears his throat. “I apologize, sir. I was simply being careless. I was excited to see your daughter, and had acted before realizing what she was wearing.”

“That was custom made,” your sister starts. “By Chanel.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to recognize the name, making your sister smile snottily.

“It’s a brand,” she shoves her food into her mouth with a snobby tug of her lips.

You clutch the end of your silverware, trying to transfer all the things you wish you could scream into the piece of silver metal.

“Enough,” your father stops her interrogation. He has made it clear he would be the one interrogating tonight. “I do have to ask, though,” he turns his attention toward Tae again. “What makes you think you’re worthy of seeing my daughter?”

The table is silent, everyone’s mind empty but your own. You could think of a million reasons, maybe even more than that, as to why he deserves you. But does Taehyung think he deserves you? You thought you made it clear within the past two years that he does, but his silence speaks for itself.

After a few more seconds of being silent, your father laughs a little through his nose.

“I am aware of your financial situation so that already docks a big chunk off your worth,” he starts again.

“Father,” you try to stop him.

“Your occupation is less than fulfilling,” he continues. “Surely, you must know that affection alone cannot support her.”

Taehyung’s mouth is so dry, that he wants to drink the entire ocean. But he lets it sit in discomfort, the truth ringing through his ears like a bomb dropped right in front of him.

“You care for her, son,” he sighs. “I can see that,” your father sets down his brandy, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair, and latching his fingers together over his lower chest. “So, why don’t we just end this here. Before it gets any deeper than it is.”

You see Taehyung’s heart drop to his stomach. You wish you could go over to him and put it right back in his chest for him, but your father continues to drop it further and further until it eventually breaks in two upon impact with the hard floor.

“I’ll give you an ultimatum, just to be sure you understand,” your father starts. “You go back to your construction work and help your parents with their grocery business. Cut her out of your life. In return, I’ll forget about the dress. About the some 70 thousand dollars you owe me for the destruction of it.”

“Father, please,” you cry, starting to stand. "It was my fault." But your sister grabs your shoulder and pushes you back down onto your seat.

“If you’re smart, you’ll understand how long that would take to accumulate on top of your other finances to return,” he continues. “If you truly care about her, you’d let her find someone who can meet all of her expectations and give her a comfortable future.”

“No,” you start, but Taehyung silences you with his gaze.

He looks to you from your father, feeling the weight of his words. You look at him, seeing how he believes every word your father is saying. You see it ring in his ears, and you know exactly what his next words are going to be.

“Sir, I—” he rasps, defeat flooding his lungs. This is not about the dress. He’d spent the rest of his life paying your father back if it meant he’d let him have you. This is about your future that he knows he can’t support; about the fact that he knows the best he can give you is nowhere near the luxury someone else can. “I just want her to be happy.”

“In this world, love is not enough for that,” Your father stands up, his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’ll show you to the door, son,” your father says.

Taehyung stills, his attention suddenly transferred to the calluses on his palms. He examines them, then the scuffs on the rim of his sleeves. It serves as a reminder, that even the best things he owns cannot match up to the expectations served tonight. He knows you don’t care. He knows you’re better than this. But surely it might become easier with time for you. Your father would find someone genius, with wealth beyond imagination. You will forget about him with time, and your wounds will heal. You’ll have an army of new cars, go to fancy banquets with designer dresses, a penthouse in the city, a smart-suit husband, and beautiful children with loads of worth to their names. He thinks about what he could give you, and it amounts to close to nothing. He’s already given you everything he has, and it’s not enough to keep you safe.

He thinks about this before standing in his seat. Your breath hitches in his throat, watching him give you up, your father’s hand on his back guiding him through the dining room, neither sparing you a glance.

“No,” you cry, standing up. Your sister tries to stop you again, but you shove her hand away.

“Y/n L/n, if you chase that boy, right now will be the last time you step in this house!” your mother slams her hands on the table.

There are words you wish you could say. So many emotions and slander and curse words you wish you could shout and spit in her face.

“I'm happy with him,” is all you can say. "I love him"

“Love is but a word,” your mother rolls her eyes. “You will forget about him in two weeks! That boy cannot support you. He can be replaced.”

“He can’t be,” you counter. Your chest rises with words, an essay might come out of your mouth, but you’re silenced when your father comes back into the room, Taehyung gone from your sight. You silence yourself, knowing you have to make a choice. Without even thinking, your feet move, and you’re brushing past your father, opening the door to you’re home and welcoming the rain.

Your parents wouldn’t have his presence in your life, banishing him from your home after he showed up in the nicest clothes he owned. They forbid him from ever seeing you again, using the price of your stained clothes as a threat if he ever were to lay eyes on you again. But you ignore that, running after him, soaking yourself in the rain once again as you chase him.

You call his name, shouting it into the street. He ignores you, and you feel you’re going crazy the more you call out his name until he finally turns around in quick anger. By this point, you two had already gone well down the street, far away from your posh, gated house. He grabs your cheeks in his palms, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You kiss him with fervor, letting the rain soak your pink dress and braided hair. He does the same, not giving a care in the world about the time he spent trying to make himself look nice for your family. He kisses you as if it would be the last time he would ever feel your lips against his again.

“We can’t do this, Y/n,” he breaks the kiss. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes close as his jaw clenches from his own words.

“Tae,” you sob, cupping his cheek. He covers your hand with his own, squeezing it tight.

“You know we can’t, Y/n,” he shakes his head, looking into your tear-filled eyes. “They will never accept me.”

“I accept you,” you sniffle. “Please don’t leave me, Tae. I accept you.”

“It’s not enough,” he whispers.

“N-No,” you shake your head.

But he already began letting go of your hand, his heel taking a step back.

“T-Tae, no,” you grab his other hand, but he forcibly makes you let go. You watch him turn on his heel, his back replacing his chest.

“Kim Taehyung,” you sob into the open air of the empty street. He does nothing, continuing his path to wherever he is going. “Taehyung!” you scream, but he doesn’t stop.

Your chest rises and falls so quickly, that you feel dizzy. Panic rises into every vein in your body, watching him grow smaller and smaller as he distances himself from you. Never in your life had you felt like it was between life or death between two choices. But god, was it clear which option had been labeled death, and which one was life.

“Marry me,” you shout. You watch his feet stop, both shoes parallel to each other. The panic in your veins slightly subsides at the fact that his distance stopped becoming larger. And then you say it again. “Marry me, Taehyung.”

He turns around, and you begin walking—running—toward him.

“Don’t say that,” he angrily breathes through his nose once you reach him.

“Marry me,” you say it again.

He looks up, despite the rain, his jaw clenched.

“I can’t go through life without you,” you cry, shaking your head. “I can’t do it.”

“You can,” he denies.

“I’m so in love with you,” you laugh, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I love you.”

His hands clench, balled into fists. God, did he love you more than the world itself. More than himself. But he can’t be selfish. He can’t rip you away from your family.

“And what about them?” he nods his head in the direction of your house.

“They can’t replace you,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “No one can replace you.”

“You can’t replace your family, Y/n,” he says. “I’m just a guy. Probably the least qualified to have you,” he laughs through his nose. “I can be replaced. They cannot.”

“They have given me a choice,” you cry. His words hurt. You wish you could make him see just how irreplaceable he is. You cannot replace your family, but you cannot replace him, either. “I already made it the minute I ran out of the house.”

He looks at you, finally locking eyes with yours. You feel the panic fade when he looks at you, and you can’t help but feel that this is right. That you’re making the right choice.

“Y/n,” he starts, shaking his head.

“I chose you a long time ago,” you go on. “The minute I shared my umbrella with you, I chose you. All your boxy smiles and shy laughs. Your job; your family. You. Your heart.”

A tear falls from his eye, his jaw still clenched.

“I can’t give you this life,” he takes your hands from his cheeks, holding them tightly between your soaked bodies. “I-I will never be able to afford law school or a gated mansion in the city. Or a white Chanel dress,” he whispers the last part. “Your life — I can’t rob you of it.”

“You are my life, Tae,” you rub your nose against his. “That stuff doesn’t matter. I want you. Forever.”

He gulps, the look in your eye speaking nothing but the truth. It scares him because of course, he wants the best for you. But he is unsure of himself, of what he can give you other than his heart. But the way you look at him, as if that is truly enough for you, makes his worries subside. You’re choosing him. Between life or death, you took a side, labeling him as life.

He grabs your waist, his arm pulling you into his frame as he sears his lips onto yours. Big, callused palms cup your jaw, holding you against his lips as if you’d try to escape. This time around, the kiss is hard, so needy and loved. You feel loved like you’ve never felt before. All the panic in your heart fades and is replaced with a need to keep him close. You assume he feels the same, his strong arms lifting you around his waist. You laugh against his lips.

“I love you,” you chuckle, almost in disbelief that you could love someone so much. He’s given you something you thought you’d never receive in the world your parents brought you into. You feel fresh with him, like you’ve been born again.

He kisses you again, confirming he feels the same before he sets your feet back on the wetted sidewalk.

“Let’s go,” he takes your hand.

“Where?” you follow him.

“My place,” he looks back at you.

You come up to his side, holding his arm as you walk in the rain. It was just a walk until thunder struck again, and the rain started falling ten times harsher than it was before. It causes you to shriek, and Taehyung only laughs, beginning a sprint while you follow after him.

You two ran to the bus stop, where you kissed some more, before the bus arrived and you shivered in the air conditioning of the large vehicle until it arrived on the other side of the city.

His place became a little bit of yours. You had unofficially moved in until now, as you stumble in his arms into the elevator, making out like horny teens until the number for the 15th floor rang in his ears and he pulled away.

The kisses you press to his neck make his whole body feel weak, his fingers unable to find the key to his apartment amongst the many in the single key ring chain he owns.

“Baby,” he whispers desperately. “S-Slow down, m’ trying to find the key,” he nervously chuckles.

You only run your hands under his soaked shirt, feeling the divots of his abs under your fingertips. Working at a construction company certainly did have more perks than one.

Finally, he seems to have found the key, slipping it forcibly into the lock and turning it until it opened the door to his apartment.

“Come here,” he lifts you up onto his hips, walking you inside his place and pushing you against the door, making it close all the way. He’s sure to lock it after tossing his keys somewhere on the neighboring kitchen counter as he kisses hot trails up your neck. They’re hasty kisses, and so so needy.

“T-Tae,” you grip his hair.

The feeling makes him groan, his hand forming a fist against the wall in pure self-control.

You slide your fingers under his shirt again, except this time, they go all the way up. You force his shirt off his skin, and he lets you take it off as his hands firmly grip your waist. He uses his new grip to support you when he moves you off the wall, his legs guiding you through his apartment as you kiss his neck once more. This time, to leave marks.

You latch onto his sweet spot so tenderly, and he grips your hips hard enough to leave his own marks on your skin.

With one hand, he pushes open the door to his bedroom before landing you on the soft sheets of his bed. You’re overwhelmed with him. The smell of his clean sheets floods your lungs as he traps you underneath his body.

You gasp when he slides his hands up your waist, his fingers coming to your back to find the zipper of your dress.

He waits for your permission, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he plays with the zipper.

“Please, Tae,” you allow him.

He nods against your neck, telling you without words that he’s going to undress you.

You sit up for him, making it easier for him to carry the fabric down your hips. You’re revealed to him in your soaked bra set. Nothing fancy, just nude colors to hide your undergarments beneath your dress.

But despite the plainness, you watch him admire your body, eyes flicking back and forth, trying to remember what you look like underneath the rest of your clothes. You help him, reaching behind you to unhook your bra yourself.

It falls off your shoulders and your skin perks with the cold air mixing with your wet skin.

“Make love to me,” you ask. “Please.”

Taehyung’s mouth goes dry. He’s seen you naked countless times. Fucked you like a rabbit in heat multiple times in just a day. But god, did hearing you ask him to make love to you settle the weight of your proposal from earlier. You really do choose him. And suddenly, he feels like it is the first time he’s ever looked at you naked. Like it was the first time he was going to enter your body.

He felt nervous. So, so nervous. But never so sure of anything else in his life. He knew he wanted you as his forever. But was too selfless to ask you to leave your prosperous life for his. For the longest time, he thought he was living on borrowed time with you. That one day, his first and only love would eventually leave him. His dreams are coming true, and he doesn’t know how to process that other than following your exact command.

“Tae?” you cup his cheek.

He sits on his knees, each one placed next to your thighs as you sit below him.

You watch his throat bob as he swallows, his face leaning into your touch. You bring him back to life, his body finally moving to trap you against the sheets again.

With soft lips, much less needy than the prior ones you two have shared today, he kisses you. He’s gentle as his hips press against yours. You gasp against his lips, the feeling of his clothed cock against your thin underwear stirring things inside of you.

You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles to secure his embrace over your own.

Taehyung groans, the friction making his desire uncontrollable as he grinds against your core.

“T-Taehyung,” you gasp, head falling back against the sheets. He takes this as an opportunity to trap the skin of your neck with his teeth, gently biting at your flesh in soft confessions of his love.

Your breasts push against his bare skin, feeling overwhelmed when he takes your pert nipple between his fingers, pinching them slightly, just enough to drive you crazy.

It’s all too much, his lips, his fingers, his hips grinding into you, sending waves of pleasure straight into your core. You just want him already. You want to feel full of him.

Your heels start the process, digging at the hem of his jeans as if you could get them off without your hands when they’re so securely fastened by his belt.

“Fuck,” he moans, finally granting your wish as he pushes off of you and unbuckles his belt.

Dark brown eyes admire you, laying on his sheets, giving yourself to him completely. You stare back at him, watching him push his jeans and boxers down to the floor, stepping out of them slowly before he hooks his slender finger under your panties.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks you, hiking your legs up as your underwear slides off your smooth skin.

“Yes,” you nod.

You hear your panties fall on the floor, joining the rest of your clothes, when he slowly spreads your legs, creating a place for himself as he falls on top of you again. Strong arms come under your shoulders, and you slide your hands up his neck, one arm securing him close to you, the other feeling a rapid heartbeat under his chest. You gasp when you feel the head of his cock brush gently against your thigh, so close to your core, but far enough away to make you want to beg for it. You, too, feel like it’s the first time all over again. When he took your virginity and your heart and wrote his name all over your skin.

“You look like you’re having second thoughts,” he shakily breathes above you, a small nervous smile on his lips.

“No,” you laugh shyly through your nose, looking into his warm eyes. You see yourself in them, and you’re reminded of the moment you first saw yourself in them two years ago.

“Are you scared?” he asks, lining himself up with your entrance. You know he isn’t referring to sex, but rather everything that comes after. Of your parents. Of everything you’ll have to sort out. But you know it is nothing that you won’t do alone. The man above you has made it clear that you will never feel alone again.

“A little,” you admit with a small smile.

“Me, too,” he kisses your cheek softly. With a push of his hips, his face falls into your neck, a small groan coming from his lips as you gasp and claw at the skin of his shoulder.

“Oh, T-Tae,” you moan sweetly, tangling your fingers in his hair as he slides out just to slam back into you once more. You feel giddy, a small raspy laugh coming from your throat as he develops a pace. He’s so perfect for you, fits you like a glove in more ways than one. He fills you completely. Over fills your cup with all of his love and giggles and smiles. You can’t get enough, it’s almost comical.

“Faster,” you whine, arching you back into him.

He obeys, grabbing your thighs and pushing them upwards until they’re hooked on his shoulders.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he moans, slamming into you with a newfound passion. Your nails slide down his biceps, some drawing blood from the feeling of his dick ripping you open. It makes you choke beneath him, your head falling back as he fucks you full of his cock. “S-So perfect.”

His nose brushes against your collarbone, using your neck as support when he leans his forehead against it. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your scent before he takes your hips firmly into his palms and holds you against the sheets. Your legs fall naturally, too weak to hold themselves up. But he doesn’t seem to care, instead using his new grip to pull you into his hips, pushing you deeper onto his length than you think you’ve ever gone before. The tip of his head kisses your cervix, and you wince in pleasurable pain when he slides out and slams against it again.

“A-Ah,” you whine, unsure how to feel about this new sensation. The man above you is sure, slowly but harshly pushing into you. His sureness makes you swell, and you feel like he is truly combining his body with your own the deeper he goes.

“Y-You,” he nearly slurs. Your pussy squeezes the head of his cock so justly, he feels his vision going blurry. Everything about you makes him explode. His dick, his mind, his heart. Everything. He can't even finish his sentence.

He goes faster, slipping past your folds with your slick sliding down your thighs and onto his sheets.

“T-Tae,” you panic, your high coming in quickly, setting warmly at the pit of your stomach just seconds away from release. “Tae, I’m gonna cum.”

“F-Fuck, me, too,” he moves faster, harder. His hands touch you, your skin following in flames the further his hands slide up your waist. He groans uncontrollably when you clench around him, your warm heat spreading down your walls as he makes love to you. “Y-Yn,” he whines.

“Say you love me,” you gasp, your voice nearly a whisper as you cream his cock.

“I love you,” he kisses your lips. It’s wet and so disgustingly sweet, you force him to lean himself into your body again, to use it to cum. “I love you so much.”

You watch him shut his eyes tight, his cock twitching inside of you, begging for release as he fights it, probably wanting to last longer for you, to give you a second orgasm before he lets himself cum.

“Cum for me, sweet boy,” you kiss his cheek.

“A-Ah,” he moans, his nose rubbing against yours. You squeak when he slams himself into you, harsh and raw, pushing past you as he fills you with ropes of white cum. “Oh, fuck,” he shakes, fists gathering the fabric of the sheets tightly as he falls into your neck, dick twitching as he cums hotly in your walls. He can’t control the noises, he’s never felt like this before. Like nothing else matters but his future with you.

His dick slips past your cervix, exiting your walls with loads of cum falling out of your abused cunt.

He falls on top of you, the two of you catching your breath with closed eyes and heavy limbs. Until you start laughing.

“What?” he chuckles with you. Your laugh is contagious.

He comes up to look at you, your cheeks red and your pupils shot with love.

“Nothing,” you shake your head. You look at him, cupping his cheek as he switches his gaze between your eyes and your cherry lips. “I-I’m just so happy.”

He laughs at that. Himself full of the same happiness.

“So?” you poke his cheek, raising an eyebrow.

“So?” he raises his own.

“Will you?”

“Will I…?”

“Will you marry me, silly,” you roll your eyes. Although it doesn’t seem nearly as sassy as it is supposed to, not with a giant smile plastered on your face.

“Oh,” he smiles back. “I guess.”

“'You guess'?!” you pinch his shoulder. He winces but laughs as he pulls you into a hug, switching himself on his back with your hips straddling his own. Cum leaks down onto his softening cock, but that is the last thing on either of your minds. His big hands feel the smoothness of your thighs, as yours play with the skin of his chest. If he didn’t know every one of your quirks, he would have taken it as you being silly. But he knows you’re just a little nervous about his answer.

“Yes,” he takes your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Of course I will. But, let me do it properly.”

You physically relax, and pure happiness floods your system.

“We never do things properly,” you remind him, rolling your eyes with a smile again.

“You’re right,” he acknowledges. “I-It might be a while, but at least let me buy you a ring.”

“Okay,” you bite your lip, hiding a closed-lipped smile. It doesn’t work, of course, and the two of you are left a stupid mess as you start your forever together.

___

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]

789 notes · View notes

velvetyh · 2 months ago

Text

⌜Between Deadlines and Desires⌝

꒰ PAIRING ꒱ colleague!Sangyeon x fem!reader (corporate world; colleague!au) ꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ sangyeon really admires you from afar and respects you. but what happens after you get disrespected at work? ꒰ WORD COUNT ꒱ 7.9k words ꒰ TW ꒱ 18+, reader and Sangyeon are both overworked, reader gets humiliated by her asshole of a boss, the big boss is a misogynist, sex in a public setting (at work), oral (both receiving), fingering, p in v, protected sex (from me, I know, shocking, right?), multiple orgasms (for reader), facial, fluffy end? ꒰ NOTE ꒱ it was supposed to be self-indulged (yeah, the humiliation happened to me but not the rest lol) but since my colleague is now an ass, it's just a basic colleague!au fic! Enjoy!! (I'm gonna ignore the fact that i focused on the wrong colleague at my work since the beginning I'm so dumb) ꒰ REQUESTED ꒱ nope!

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The atmosphere at work was quiet, your tall building staring down at the long queue of commuters stuck in traffic for the past two hours. The only sounds disturbing the silence of your floor were your fingers tiredly typing on the keyboard and the scattered manly voices in the conference room on the other end of the corridor, a meeting dragging on well beyond the originally scheduled end time.

Downing the rest of your now cold cup of coffee, you stood up, heels clicking on the floor as you walked past the conference room, the voice of your colleague and your boss mixing with some unfamiliar ones in a heated discussion.

You sighed, the bright red numbers of the digital clock on the wall showing 21:09, reinforcing the exhaustion in your limbs. You tried your best to relieve your eyes from constantly staring at your computer screen without smudging your mascara, which was not easy. You defeatedly shook your head from side to side as you heard your boss arguing with a client for the nth time tonight, his voice suddenly becoming louder as the conference room’s door swung open.

“Yeah, I’ll look if we have it in the archives room,” you recognised the stressed voice of Sangyeon, your colleague, as he closed the door behind him and walked in the opposite direction of the break room.

Once the dishwasher was loaded, you took the same direction as him, ready to return to your desk to clock out and go home. Your shoes clicked again on the tile flooring, the cold light of the archives room spilling into one of the many sinuous corridors that composed the building.

Peeking inside the room, you noticed Sangyeon’s broad back clad in a tight white shirt, his muscles tensing even more as he was rummaging through a binder for some documents.

“Where the fuck is that document,” you heard him mumble, his head snapping to the side as you knocked on the wooden door, your gesture startling him.

“Do you need help with something?” you kindly asked, slowly making your way towards him.

“Y/N? Why are you still here?” he blinked, a file in his hand.

“I had some contracts to proofread and some international clients to call. Do you need help?”

“Yeah, sort of. Do you know if we ever made our American clients sign a new contract last year? I can’t find it,” you quickly looked at the name of the client on the file that he was carrying and nodded.

“I think we did. But that’s not the right binder. You’re looking through the accounting one, you should look through the administrative one,” turning around, Sangyeon watched you crouch down to get the right binder, his eyes remaining a second too long on your ass, your curves enhanced by your tight pencil skirt.

Setting down the binder in front of you, Sangyeon’s figure towering over your shoulder, eyes trying to read the documents you were rapidly skimming through, your hands abruptly stopping and opening the folder once you found what you were looking for.

“Here, it should be that one,” you mumbled and handed him the confidential document with a smile.

“You’re a lifesaver Y/N, I hope you know that,” he pointed a gentle finger in your direction as he walked backwards, a smile decorating his lips as he went back inside the conference room.

Feeling nice enough to help your poor, stressed colleague, you gathered all the papers he got out of the binder and put them back in their initial spots before locking the archives room.

You had just finished cleaning your desk and prepared your to-do list for the next day when you heard your boss thanking the clients, the voices slowly going to the elevators before disappearing. A frown appeared as you heard the coffee machine in the break room run again.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late to drink another coffee? You’re going to have a heart attack at this rate,” you rested your handbag on the kitchen counter, your remark startling Sangyeon as his drained gaze was fixated on the black liquid dropping into his cup.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep appearing behind or next to me so suddenly,” he managed to joke and you giggle, a small smile appearing on your face.

His gaze dropped a second on your pretty mouth before going back to look you straight in the eyes.

“Thank you for your help, by the way,” he mumbled, playing with the spoon he had in hand.

“It’s fine, I thought I could help since they were my clients before he arrived and changed everything.”

A new boss meant a restructuring of the different clients and cases between colleagues. Your boss thought you weren’t efficient enough to deal with those people, so he decided to give you some other clients to deal with and let Sangyeon take care of everything.

“I don’t know why he gave them to me,” he stated, dropping a spoonful of sugar in his coffee, “they keep complaining and want you to be in charge again.”

“You should tell them that you are competent enough to take care of their files and will do your best to fulfil the assigned tasks,” you simply shrugged, feeling a rush of pride in your chest at how the clients wanted you instead of Sangyeon as a professional.

“You should really stop with this and maybe go home to wind down,” you pointed at the coffee he had almost finished drinking since you started talking, “it’s not good for you to consume this much caffeine and stay behind this late.”

He shrugged, taking his last sip.

“I don’t have anyone or anything waiting for me at home so it’s better if I just work as much as I can,” you shook your head at his words and patted your blazer, realising that you had forgotten your phone on its charging station on your desk.

“Well I’m exhausted, so I’m going home. See you tomorrow ?” you suggested with a smile, and he nodded, mumbling a small ‘good night’ as his eyes followed the way your hips swayed as you made your way to the elevators.

Your colleague sat back down at his desk, his now empty cup in hand. He stared at the document in front of him, his mind filled with the pretty smiles that you gave him and how tight your skirt was around your ass and hips.

He groaned, shifting in his office seat as heat rushed down his pants. You were so nice and pretty, always ready to help anyone with a smile on your face, your intelligence and patience striking him.

His heart hammered hard in his chest, not knowing if it was because of the desire he felt for you or the 9 cups of coffee he had throughout the day.

The poor man was stressed, to say the least. Every employee was overworked in the office, but your boss being the misogynist king he is, thought that men could handle the pressure better and gave them all the important clients that were once managed by female colleagues.

Genius move, right?

Sangyeon sighed deeply.

Right now, if a genie granted him three wishes, one of them would be to lay on your couch, his face pressed against your chest as your hands would caress his back and massage his head to help him relax. He craved to feel your steady heartbeat against his cheek, your sweet fragrance and fruity shower gel invading his nostrils.

He sighed in contentment at the thought, abruptly shaking his head and slapping his cheeks, trying to get himself out of this lustful reverie.

“Focus, bro,” he mumbled to himself.

He was at work, it was not the time nor the place to have those kinds of thoughts.

Sangyeon tried everything to get you out of his mind, but it was impossible; when he would start reading the contract, he would think of how, a few hours prior, you offered him your help in a heartbeat, your bright smile shone in only his direction and how you were concerned about his unhealthy caffeine consumption. He loved the attention, more than he was willing to admit, but it felt so inappropriate to crush on his own colleague.

Yet, Sangyeon couldn’t get you out of his head. He was always attentively listening when you were giving him advice, presenting things in meetings, and always here to help when you were carrying boxes of paper to restock your printer or heavy binders to a meeting. Always thanking him with a bright smile or complimenting him on his strength and generosity.

He cursed himself as his dick was now painfully hard in his pants, urging him to let it free. Sangyeon deeply sighed, pondering whether what he was about to do was a good idea.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself and unbuckled his belt, dragging his office pants and boxers to the middle of his thigh, his dick finally springing free from the restraining undergarments. He deeply exhaled when his hand wrapped around his length, resting his head on his chair and closing his eyes. It twitched in his hold as he gave it a tight squeeze, grunting and hissing at the feeling.

Sangyeon thickly swallowed the embarrassment that pumped through his veins at how fast you appeared in his mind. He pursed his lips to stifle a moan, a very vivid image of you on your knees in front of him, looking up at him through your lashes as you teased the leaking tip of his cock.

“Fuck… Y/N,” he embarrassingly muttered your name in a staggered breath, his rushed hand not faltering in its fast strokes.

He adjusted himself in his seat, lowering the right armrest with his free hand to rest in a more comfortable position to keep his little business going.

Precum was oozing from the tip, giving Sangyeon an easier glide up and down his shaft. The pace he set was now agonisingly slow, mimicking the rhythm that you would probably use if you were sucking him off.

The images were really vibrant in his mind, he knew that he was about to come like he never did before. No matter the porn movie he watched or the ex-girlfriend he fucked in the past, they would probably never give him such a strong orgasm as the mere idea of you, on your knees, with his cock in your pretty mouth, would.

“Oh my god,” Sangyeon's voice was breathy, his face twisting in pleasure as his hips bucked in the air, his fist picking up the pace, squeezing his length as if it were your hand.

He swallowed thickly, preventing himself from moaning your name a second time. He was so aroused by his thoughts, yet ashamed of them, never having thought of a colleague this way.

“Y/N… keep going, I’m gonna cum,” he mumbled under his breath, his words sending warmth to his cock.

He wanted to cum so bad, but his exhausted brain was not enough for him to orgasm. Sangyeon had automatically switched to the same usual rhythm he uses when he touches himself at home and always needed long minutes before reaching his high.

That’s when he closed his eyes, again, and stopped his movement for a brief second. His mind focused on your voice, your smile, how sweet you sound when you say his name, how that time you touched his arm as you laughed at his dumb joke…

… how pretty you would look with your legs on his shoulders, your hands gripping his biceps, prettily moaning his name as he would sliding his cock in and out of you?

It was as if his imagination had gathered just enough strength to send him the dirtiest thought he could ever imagine to cum. His cock twitched hard in his hold, a warm wave of relief washing over him as he came all over his hand and shirt, not fast enough to move it upward to avoid staining it. He swore and groaned your name, body twitching in overstimulation when the images lingered in his mind, the thought of painting your face with his seeds close to make him cum a second time in a matter of seconds.

Sangyeon cursed himself for being such a horny idiot, ashamed of the whole situation when he realised the mess he created; the sleeve and bottom part of his shirt were stained with droplets of cum, sprinkled too high for him to be able to tuck and hide it in his pants or under his blazer.

He rushed to the bathroom, washed his hands and grabbed some toilet paper in an attempt to clean the stains on his clothes. He grumbled in annoyance when the stains only grew bigger, giving up and rushing back to his desk. What would have happened if his boss had forgotten something or worse, you witnessed him fantasizing about getting his way with you?

Fortunately, he found the spare t-shirt he kept in case he wanted to go for a run with other colleagues. He put it on, tossed his dirty shirt in his bag and clocked out, driving home with your face in his mind.

The next day, you decided to come to work around 9am, wanting to compensate for the fact that you stayed behind late last night. You waved at Sangyeon with a cute smile when you saw him already sitting at his desk, clearly oblivious to what happened in his office after you had left.

The early birds were already drinking a cup of coffee in the break room when you entered to make yourself a cup of tea. Greeting all of them and chatting with some, Sangyeon appeared right after you, trying to talk to you, but you didn’t notice it.

You slightly frowned when you heard a deep, masculine voice and loud clapping, Sangyeon’s face twisting in discomfort.

“Look how finally decided to show up! Goldilocks, aka Y/N!” your boss exclaimed, rubbing his hands together, a vicious smile decorating his face.

You didn’t like where this was going. At all.

Since Sangyeon was standing between the two of you, your boss stepped to the side to stare at you. The break room went dead silent, some hiding their laughs by sipping on their beverage while others were as surprised as you were.

“Yes?” you calmly replied, dropping your tea bag in your cup.

“Do you think that 9am is a normal time to come to work ?”

“Well, yes, after last nig-“

“Listen,” he cut you, voice becoming menacing, “I don’t care at what time you went home. It could be 6pm or midnight, I do not care. What matters to me is that you play Goldilocks and wake up whenever you want to, just because you feel like it or you’re “tired”. Everyone is tired and overworked, it’s normal in our field, but I have a business to run, okay? We are not here – especially not my lovely Anastasia at the front desk – to take your stupid little phone calls from your stupid little clients when you are not here because you’re playing Sleeping Beauty. Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth, or do I need to repeat myself?” he asked, his condescending tone making your blood boil.

“Understood.” You muttered through gritted teeth, hand clutching on your tea cup, resisting the urge to throw the boiling liquid at his face in front of everyone.

This new boss was one particular character. He loved to humiliate people, especially women as if it turned him on. He was only sweet with Anastasia from the front desk, you wondered with your other female colleagues if it was her breast implants that were draining the kindness out of his cock him that he no longer had sympathy for the rest of the women in the office.

You exited the break room as he sat down at a table, acting as if he didn’t just humiliate one of his employees in front of the rest of the floor. Heart hammering in your chest and cheeks on fire, the tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes, but you managed to keep them in for the rest of the day, despite the constant appearances of your boss in your office.

His words: he wanted to make sure that Goldilocks hadn’t fallen asleep on her desk, and if she was working properly.

Wonderful. The day was going to be long.

5:30pm was the time you wanted to leave to go to the gym for a workout to wind down.

“Y/N? I’m glad you are still there,” your boss said as he invited himself next to you at your desk. You deeply breathed in and stood up, gathering some documents you were working on before putting them in a folder.

“Well, make it quick, I was about to leave. I have a private appointment to attend,” you lied, putting the folder away in your drawer.

“Not so fast,” he said, preventing you from taking your purse, “I need you to proofread this contract before our meeting tomorrow.”

“I don’t have a meeting tomorrow with you,” you spat, knowing your calendar per heart.

“Well, Monica wasn’t feeling so well this afternoon, so she went home and texted me that she forgot to do it. You’re efficient Y/N, I need this done before tomorrow, okay?” he patted you on the shoulder and you took a step back, wanting to defend yourself, but he had already put the file on your desk with such force that you knew that you would be in big trouble if you didn’t do it.

When he closed the door, your eyes turned glossy, your hand frantically searching your purse for a tissue. Your eyes overflooded, your mascara running down your cheeks as you muted your sobs as best as possible. You didn’t want to attract pity from your colleagues as they walked by.

Sadly for you, Sangyeon happened to pass by and saw through the glass that you were crying. He knocked and softly opened the wooden door, head peeking through.

“Are you okay Y/N?” he asked, his gentle tone making your tears double despite your desperate attempts at keeping them in.

“Yeah, I am,” you lied, wiping your tears with your wet tissue, and throwing it in the trash to take another one as it was already drenched and covered in mascara.

“Don’t lie to me,” Sangyeon rested his binder on your desk, noticing the new file in front of you.

“Is it because of the boss?” you nodded and breathed in, sniffing before entering your password to unlock your computer, again.

“It’s starting to become too much,” you muttered, voice wavering because of the sobs that threatened to escape your mouth, “I can’t stand him and his unfairness anymore.”

“I understand,” you shook your head.

“No, you don’t,” you retorted, making Sangyeon frown. “You don’t understand, he will never treat you like this because you’re a man,” your hand shook as you clicked on some icons on your computer, trying your best to ignore Sangyeon’s pitiful eyes looking at you, “I’m not an inflatable doll with fake implants and Botox lips that laughs at his not-funny jokes, so he hates me and treats me like this.”

Silence filled your office, Sangyeon awkwardly cleared his throat.

“I don’t think it’s because of this,” he argued, and you looked up at him, eyes sending daggers as you stood up.

“Oh yeah? What is it, then?” you questioned, crossing your arms on your chest.

Sangyeon had to force himself not to get distracted by your breasts – that he found perfect, by the way, not fake like Anastasia’s or Monica’s –, resting his hand on the tall chest of drawers behind you.

“If you are here to tell me that it is because of female sensitivity and my hormones, you can go-”

“Y/N, no,” Sangyeon interrupted you by shaking his head, amused by the silliness of your words, “I don’t think it has to do with your appearance or the fact that you are a woman,” he stopped for a second, “I think he sees you as a threat.”

“A threat?” you confusedly retorted, surprised by his words, “how?”

“I mean, yeah! You are an intelligent, clever, quick-thinking woman. You know so much about the firm, the clients, their habits and our strategies. He still doesn’t know all of this despite him being our boss for more than a year now.”

“Well, if he stopped swooning over Anastasia and Monica, maybe he would know all of this as well!” you exclaimed, frustrated, and Sangyeon smiled, a hand gently rubbing your shoulder as a sign of comfort.

“You know damn well that it’s absolutely not his priority,” he whispered and you heavily sighed, shaking your head from side to side, “maybe he’s trying to push your buttons to make you quit, so you no longer put him in the shade.”

“Well, it’s kind of working,” you mumbled, voice wavering, feeling the tears gather again in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, don’t think like that,” Sangyeon took a step closer, grabbing your face between his hands, the gesture startling you, yet you didn’t step away. His palms were gentle and soft, loving how – despite their warmth – they managed to cool down your burning cheeks.

“He’s not worthy of your tears, do you know that? He doesn’t care if you cry because of him, the only thing that matters to him is if Anastasia will suck his dick at lunch.”

You giggled and his face broke into a smile, proud of his joke, his thumb wiping a strand tear that managed to fall from your eye while laughing.

“I like it better when you smile,” he mumbled and you felt your cheeks heating up, looking down as he took a step back, already missing his hands on your face.

“Come on,” he grabbed his binder again, gesturing to you with the head to follow him, “let’s grab a coffee before tackling this case, okay?”

While you walked back to your desk after having said coffee with your colleague, Sangyeon sat at his, not believing that he managed to touch you without getting a boner. When he saw you cry out of exhaustion behind your computer, he was tempted to drop everything and go fist his boss’ collar to give him a piece of his mind about how he treated you, but he thought it was better – for the two of you – to check on you.

When Sangyeon’s head peeked again through the doorframe a few hours later, you were about halfway done, struggling with the little work Monica had done over the months for this client.

“How is it going?” he asked, and you huffed, taking your head between your hands. The clock was closed to reach 9pm and you were nowhere near to go home.

“Monica barely did anything. Even if I stayed the whole night, I would not be able to fully proofread it. Important documents are missing, I don’t know who she called, or to whom she sent emails, it’s just a lost cause,” you desperately mumbled, Sangyeon entered your office before closing the door behind him.

Your desk lamp was killing your eyes as you showed Sangyeon some data on your computer, hoping he would come up with a solution that you were too tired to think of. His hand was resting on your desk, the other on your chair, close to your shoulder.

“Sadly you’re right, it’s a lost cause,” he crossed his arms on his broad chest, negatively shaking his head. You sighed and saved your progress, standing up. Being exhausted and on heels was not a good combo, making you lose your balance.

Sangyeon was quick to catch your forearm, preventing you from falling.

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat and straightened your shirt, blinking a few times, “you’re quite reactive at 9pm after a whole working day,” you joked, and he smiled.

“That’s probably all the coffees I drink,” he joked back, his fingers still gently yet securely wrapped around your wrist.

Your eyes lingered on your shared physical touch, slowly looking up at your colleague. He remained silent, his eyes falling to your lips for a brief second before coming back to your eyes.

Hesitant, Sangyeon brought his free hand to your face, replacing a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture warmed up your body, feeling the goosebumps on the forearm he was still holding.

You were positively responding to his touch.

And he loved it.

Much to your dismay, he retracted his hand, and you looked to the side, his palms now on your shoulders. You had to stifle a moan and prevent your eyes from rolling at the back of your head when Sangyeon positioned himself behind you, his thumbs pressing on the tight knots between your shoulder blades. Inhaling deeply, enjoying the relief, your head lolled to the side and rested against his chest.

You were letting your guard down, an amazing opportunity for Sangyeon to step in.

You audibly gasped and grabbed his hand when you felt his warm lips on the side of your neck, gently kissing and nipping on the skin.

“Sangyeon,” you breathed, fingers flying to his hair, the tension on your shoulders slowly subsiding.

“Mh?” he hummed, too busy kissing your neck to answer you properly. The mere whisper of his name was enough to send electricity through his veins.

“What are you doing? What if someone passes by?” you worriedly asked, dropping your hand from his hair as realisation suddenly hit you.

A bit of self-control would be nice, Y/N. You were at work, damn it, not in a private setting.

“We’re alone in the office, don’t worry,” he mumbled against your warm skin, humming the remaining scent of your perfume, “the janitor already left, you don’t have to worry about anything.”

His voice was low, reassuring, making you give in. Sangyeon wrapped his arm around your waist, pushing your back flush against his chest as he continued to kiss your neck gently.

But his actions had riled you to the point that you could no longer content yourself with only neck kisses and a back hug. You needed more of him, his attentive and caring attitude did little to nothing to tame the growing crush that you had on him since he started at the firm.

Turning around in his hold, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips on his in a fierce kiss. Sangyeon hummed in surprise against your kiss but immediately gave in, his hands resting on your hips, drawing circles with his thumbs on your skirt. Your hands explored his broad, clad back, getting wetter at how well you could feel his muscles under the fabric.

“I need you,” you managed to mumble as you pulled away, Sangyeon’s hand travelling from your hips to your neck at your words, pulling you into another kiss that was way more intense and rushed than the previous one.

Tongues fought for dominance, teeth clashed and collided against one another, hands became adventurous, and the atmosphere suddenly changed in your office as you let desire and need replace the despair and exhaustion you both felt.

Sangyeon’s hands came back to your lower back, gently tucking away the shirt from your skirt, sneaking under the fabric to feel your warm skin. You could tell that he wanted more, so you took one of his hands in yours and made it land on your ass, feeling Sangyeon smile into the kiss and give it a harsh slap. The sting was delicious, making you whine and bite his lower lip when he did it again.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to get this close to you,” Sangyeon pulled away, his warm breath hitting your lips, his fingers unzipping the back of your pencil skirt.

“Are you serious? I never thought a guy like you would be interested in me,” you admitted, unbuttoning his office shirt.

“I mean, how could I not be? You’re gorgeous, intelligent, so nice and always so damn helpful,” he effortlessly sat you on your desk, your heels falling from your feet in the process, punctuating each compliment with a kiss, slowly making his way to the valley of your breasts.

“Have you seen our female colleagues? I wouldn’t even be surprised if I got picked last,” you mumbled and Sangyeon scoffed, slapping the side of your hip, close to your ass.

“Enough with the negative self-talk,” he grunted, his arms on either side of you to look at you deep in the eyes. “Now, will the prettiest girl in this office let me remove her shirt to show her how enough and how beautiful she is to me?” you couldn’t help but giggle, face warming up at his silly request.

Sangyeon wasted no time and undid your shirt buttons, taking in the sight of your breasts covered in a beautiful, white lace bra.

“Gorgeous,” he mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your breast, shivers exploding in your chest. You were ready to unclasp it, but Sangyeon stopped you, wanting to admire them a few seconds more before allowing you to drop your bra on your keyboard.

The imprint of his hard cock was apparent in his office pants, your hand reaching to touch it as he was caressing your chest. Sangyeon moaned, mouth diving to suck on one of your nipples, his other hand playing with the other, teasing and squeezing the soft flesh.

“Sangyeon please, don’t stop,” you breathed, spreading your legs to invite him in, which he immediately did, your core pressed flush against his lower abdomen. You whined and fisted his hair, keeping him close as you felt his dick press against your stomach, Sangyeon grunting against your nipple at your tug.

“You have such pretty breasts,” he mumbled, his tongue giving your nipples one last flicker before his mouth went lower. You whined as you felt warmth pool in your panties, Sangyeon busy grabbing your legs and spreading them apart.

“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, taking your body in, “spread them nice and wide for me.”

Once he was kissing the lace of your underwear, he looked up, silently asking for your consent to go further. You took a deep breath and nodded, suddenly acknowledging what was happening.

You were going to fuck your colleague.

Were you scared? No. Impatient? Hell yes. Excited? More than anyone could imagine.

Your boss and his stupid to-proofread contract were long forgotten, Sangyeon’s hands and mouth doing wonders to get your head off of everything. It was even more effective than a workout session at the gym.

The tearing of your tights got you out of your thoughts, watching Sangyeon smirk as he toyed with your undergarments, pressing a digit on the wet patch as he kissed the inner part of your thighs.

“I can’t believe you are already this wet for me and I barely did anything,” you embarrassingly looked away, and he pulled the damp panties to the side, taking in how beautiful your pussy was.

“So pretty,” he mumbled and you clenched around nothing at his praise, Sangyeon’s hands wrapping around your thighs as he wasted no time and dove his tongue between your folds.

“Sangyeon!” you exclaimed, a hand flying to your mouth at how loudly you yelled his name. Sangyeon was chuckling between your legs, loving how sensitive you were for him.

Your hand flew to his hair as you moaned out his name, feeling his tongue reaching parts between your folds that you never knew existed. His nose teased your clit, making your heart hammer in your chest faster. He was so good at eating you out, that you started to wonder if he had lots of experience to be this good.

Sangyeon’s tongue prevented you from wandering too deep in your thoughts as it focused on your most sensitive parts, making you cry out his name when you felt two fingers tease your glistering slit.

“Please Sangyeon,” you begged and he hummed against your pussy, gently inserting two fingers inside you. The stretch felt so good, his digits searching for your sweet spot each time he rutted them inside you. After a few strokes, when he realised that he had found it – thanks to a strangled moan falling from your pretty lips –, he focused on it like he was on a mission.

“Do I make you feel good, my pretty girl?” he asked from between your legs, his warm breath hitting your folds, his fingers still going in and out of you as he teasingly licked your clit.

“Y-Yeah, fuck!” you cried in a high-pitched moan, Sangyeon maintaining eye contact as the squelching sound of your pussy filled the silence, your hips bucking up against his mouth as his cock hardened at your helplessness.

Removing his digits for a short moment, you whined from the emptiness. You heard a zip but paid no mind to it, too lost in your own pleasure to care.

Sangyeon, now on his knees in front of you, had reached for his cock in his pants, stroking his shaft with his hand coated in your juices, your moans only increasing the lust he felt for you.

“Fuck Sangyeon, I’m so close,” you mumbled, hands gripping the edge of the desk, a foot resting on your desk while your other leg was resting on his shoulder, granting him more access to your core.

“Cum for me, baby. I wanna see how beautiful you look coming on my tongue,” he whispered while kissing the top of your pussy, right above your clit, before diving back to make you cum. He abandoned his hard cock to trigger your g-spot again, your cries indicating to him that you were close to reaching your high.

And it didn’t disappoint. In a loud cry of his name, your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave. Your core squeezed his fingers, barely letting him move them inside you and your legs shook around him, your face contorting in pleasure as you fisted his hair, keeping him close to your pussy. He lapped at your juices like a starved man, his fingers teasing your clit to make you fully ride your orgasm.

“Sangyeon,” you moaned out of breath as he proudly looked at his glistening fingers. Your nipples hardened at the sight of a satisfied Sangyeon licking his digits with a smile as if he had just finished eating a tasteful dessert.

“You’re so pretty when you cum, you know that?” he asked while helping you sit up as you had laid down on your desk while orgasming, letting you finish unbuttoning his shirt and push it off his broad shoulders.

He kissed your lips, letting you taste yourself as your tongues waltzed together, your arms wrapping around his neck, caressing his shoulders as you were still weak from your orgasm.

“And you look so handsome when you’re eating me out, you know that?” you imitated him and he smiled, his mouth parting against yours in a breathy sigh as you reached for his cock in between your bodies.

It was even better than he had imagined the day before. It felt different than his hand, he even dared to say it felt way better. You used your two hands to stroke his shaft, one of them sometimes teasing his balls.

While looking at him, you gently spat into your palm before bringing it to his cock, Sangyeon throwing his head back at the sight.

“It feels so good, Y/N, keep going please,” you smiled, blushing at his praise, loving how handsome he looked and how hot he sounded while grunting and bucking his hips in your hand. The tip of his cock was angry, red, precum leaking from the tip as it mixed with your spit.

You quickened your pace just to tease him, only for Sangyeon to grab your wrist to slow you down.

“Stop, stop darling, I wanna last,” he chuckled before kissing you, pulling you to him. Your breasts were pressed flush against his chest, loving how warm his skin felt against your hard nipples.

“Do we have condoms?” he mumbled against your lips, and you thought about it for a second, quickly getting your sanitary pouch from your purse.

“We can still get one in Anastasias’ drawer if this one is expired,” you mumbled as Sangyeon studied it, ripping it open once he saw it was still up to date.

“No need,” Sangyeon smirked and rolled it down his shaft, throwing the wrapping next to your bra as your core clenched around the sight of his member.

Leaning on your elbows, you watched him and smiled, admiring the view his broad shoulders and abs were offering you. He did the same with you, checking your breasts and pretty face out while stroking his cock.

“I think we both like what we see, right?” you giggled, and he nodded, leaning forward to kiss you on the lips, to which you immediately responded. His cock rested against your stomach, your heart skipping a beat at how big he was.

Slightly pulling away, Sangyeon rested his forehead against yours, tapping and sliding his cock a few times against your wet core, a prominent vein deliciously grazing against your clit. You whimpered at the jolts of electricity it sent in your body, your fingers clutching his shoulders as he slowly pushed himself inside of you.

“Oh my god baby, you’re so tight,” he grunted, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth as you tried to keep looking deep in his brown orbits, but to no avail.

He was about halfway in, the stretch making you throw your head back, arms weakening under the weight of the pleasure Sangyeon was giving you. You moaned out his name, feeling full as his hips rested against your thighs.

Both out of breath at the new sensation, he gently grabbed you by the throat to press his lips against yours, your hands flying to his hair to prevent you from falling back on your desk.

“You’re so big,” you groaned and he smirked, two of his digits pushing your lips apart to let your tongue coat them in spit before bringing them down where your bodies met, teasing your clit in sharp circles.

“Shit, you feel so good, Y/N,” he muttered, getting lost in the warmth your pussy was engulfing his cock bit by bit till he was flushed against you.

“Move, please,” he obliged, sliding his cock in and out of you at a steady pace. Your breasts bounced at each thrust, Sangyeon’s mouth diving to litter them with love bites.

Your moans filled your closed office, your nails scratching the skin of his shoulders as Sangyeon’s mouth continued its assault on your breasts. He picked up the pace, hand still steady around your throat to prevent you from squirming too much, making sure you stared into his eyes. High-pitched moans of his name fell from your lips, brows furrowing in pleasure as his dick brushed nonstop against all the spots that made you see stars, the reduction of oxygen increasing your blissful state.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?” he breathlessly asked, his hands leaving your throat to travel up and down your body, mouth vividly kissing every inch of your skin. You whined, head clouded with the feeling of his dick throbbing into you, addictingly rubbing against your soft walls that wanted to trap him forever.

He wouldn’t mind, though.

“Fuck, yeah it does,” you managed to mutter, your words being cut by the noises of Sangyeon’s hips harshly colliding against your thighs.

Sangyeon looked down, his dick twitching at how it disappeared inside your core. He enjoyed the sight, rubbing circles on your clit. The little whimpers of pleasure you were trying to stifle only encouraged him to keep going, wanting to hear again how pretty you sounded when you cum.

He briefly stilled inside you, grabbing one of your legs and lifting it on his shoulder, kissing your tight-covered ankle. The new angle allowed him to reach deeper and further into you, his free hand grabbing you by the back of your head to prevent you from falling as your nails dug dents into the skin of his forearms you were clutching onto in utter pleasure.

“Sangyeon, please,” you begged in a cry, eyes imploring god knows what. He kissed your lips to silence you, hand gently stroking your cheek. “I’m so close,” you whispered when he pulled away, chest deeply heaving as Sangyeon picked up the pace.

Your body started feeling hot, indicating that you were closer to your release. Sangyeon felt you clench hard around his cock, giving him the signal as well, your moans increasing in volume as his hand came back in contact with your clit, rubbing it and gently slapping it to bring you closer to your peak.

“Come for me beautiful, let it all go around me,” he mumbled against your lips before capturing them in a quick kiss, his thrusts intensifying in sharpness, the new pace sending you over the edge in a loud scream of pleasure. His name and profanities fell off your lips as your legs shook, Sangyeon now gently sliding his cock in and out of you, enjoying with a smile the beautiful sight that it was to see you cum around him.

When you came back to your senses, still sensitive from your intense orgasm, you felt a mouth kissing the warm skin from one collarbone to another, warm hands on your hips.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum, Y/N,” he breathed against your chest, your hand pushing some strands of hair away from his eyes.

“You already said that,” you giggled, and he chuckled, gently biting your earlobe, and making you squeal.

“I know, I just can’t get enough of it,” he whispered, pressing his lips to yours in a delicate kiss.

You got lost in the kiss for a brief moment, before realising something.

“Did you cum?” you questioned, hand resting on his cheek.

“It’s okay, you needed it more than-“

You sat up and kissed him, seizing the opportunity of him being distracted with your kiss to push him into your office chair, dropping to your knees.

Your tights did little to no job of shielding your knees from the cold tile flooring, but you didn’t care. You had orgasmed twice in one night, the least you could do was lend him a hand – or your mouth – to help him reach his peak as well.

When Sangyeon looked down, he almost came just by seeing you on your knees in front of him. In a swift motion, you ripped away the condom from his hard length, your hand at the base of it while you kissed your way up to the tip.

“Y/N, please don’t tease me,” Sangyeon gripped the armrests, and you smiled, your mouth wrapping around his cock, your tongue curling slowly around it, taking him in as best as you could.

Spit rolled down his length, your hand stroking what couldn’t fit in your mouth. His hips bucked, making you gag, your colleague whispering a soft apology as you pulled away, a string of saliva linking your pretty lips to his cock, thumb pressing on the prominent vein wrapped around his length.

You looked up at him with lustful eyes, hollowing your cheeks, teasing the slit and sucking around the tip like you would do with a lollipop, making Sangyeon shudder in pleasure.

Without warning, your mouth swallowed his cock, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat and its weight on your tongue, his balls heavy in your palm. You stroked the wrinkly skin, earning a low grunt from Sangyeon as you kept on bobbing your head up and down.

“Oh yeah, Y/N, keep going. You're really good at this- fuck!” Sangyeon whispered, his fantasy slowly becoming a reality. His face distorted in pleasure looked down, your eyes meeting as you kept pleasuring him. He threw his head back, his hands landing in your hair as he gathered it in a messy ponytail, wanting to keep seeing your pretty face as you sucked him off.

Your jaw started hurting, like your knees, but you kept going, wanting to satisfy him as best as he satisfied you. He would never tell you, but just the fact that you let him kiss you and touch would have already been enough for him. But now, Sangyeon was not going to complain to have his dick deep in your mouth, just like he had imagined it the night before.

The moans you let out while he was fucking you came back to his mind, adding another source of pleasure to your mouth wrapped around his cock. He felt his high coming and you did too, his girthy length in your mouth slightly increasing, urging you to pick up the pace.

“Y/N, keep going, ohhh fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!” he warned, and you pulled away, wrapping your hand around it, keeping the same steady pace.

Sangyeon swiftly removed your hand to stroke himself, his other free hand grabbing your chin to prevent you from moving. You drew your tongue out and that was the last straw; thick, white ropes of cum landed on your face and dropped to your chest in the following second, your name escaping from Sangyeon’s lips in heavy sighs.

Getting back on your feet, you smiled at him, sitting on his lap. He slightly shuddered as your core grazed against his still-sensitive cock, his chest heaving at the force of his release.

“Thank you,” you timidly mumbled and he smiled, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.

The lust had died down, the atmosphere now becoming soft and quiet, the stillness of the night engulfing you in a warm hug.

“You don’t have to thank me for nothing,” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around you as he slid the chair closer to your desk, grabbing a few tissues to clean your chest and chin.

“I could thank you for plenty-“

“You don’t have to. I did it because I like you, okay?” Sangyeon mumbled and it was your turn to smile, goosebumps rising on your skin as he kissed your collarbone.

“Let’s call in sick tomorrow,” he proposed, and you gasped, ready to protest, “I wanna take you out properly.”

“But the meeting-”

“Fuck the boss and his fucking meeting. He can deal with the work on his own,” Sangyeon grunted, looking at you with tender eyes as you tamed the strands of his hair that you tugged on.

“I’m scared that he will humiliate me again because I didn’t do the work he asked me for,” you confessed, taking a deep breath. Sangyeon’s hands cupped your face, forcing you to look at him.

“He'll hear from me if he makes another inappropriate comment to you in front of everyone. Let me drive you home now,” he answered, kissing your lips before letting you slide off his lap to get dressed.

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johnbrand · 4 months ago

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On My Level

Antonio took a step out onto the balcony, hoping to get away from the commotion of the company retreat. Sometimes, working with such high-level execs was fun–Antonio often got to enjoy perks a younger Mexican-American boy could have never dreamed of. But now outside, Antonio was better able to take in view. Crisp morning air perfectly settled over the beautiful mountains and valleys below. After a few moments though, Antonio picked up on the stench of secondhand smoke.

“Tony! I didn’t know they just let anyone out here!” Jason chuckled, cupping up the end of his cigar. “Could’ve sworn this was the VIP section.”

Jason was one of the reasons Antonio hated his job. Stereotypical, privileged finance bros. They were the most arrogant people Antonio had ever met, to a point that he could not even believe they were real. It was like everything those men ever wanted came to them. Money, looks, love–it was disgusting and infuriating.

Annoyed, Antonio made for the exit.

“Stay, Tony,” Jason’s voice was more commanding than insistent. “Just perch against the bricks for a sec, I’ll be quick.”

For a split second, Antonio felt a tingle down his spine. He propped himself up against the wall, out of the window’s view. He just hoped this would be short, his turtleneck was getting warm and he already wanted another round at the breakfast buffet. A man of his fullness was hard to satiate.

“You know, Tony, I’ve been getting a real bad vibe from you,” Jason began, puffing away. “I think you’re a little too abrasive.”

“It’s Antonio,” Antonio corrected. “And is this what you really wanted to discuss?”

“Yes, Tony,” Jason let a crude grin slip. “Maybe if you simply listened to me, got on my level, your talent would be appreciated.”

Antonio wanted to go, asked his body to move, but instead it remained against the brick wall, almost as if it wished to hear Jason out.

After a strong exhale in Antonio’s direction, Jason initiated direct eye contact. “Let’s start by using your real name. You go by Tony, bro.”

With another slight shiver down his spine, Tony mumbled, “Okay.”

Jason cracked a small smile, “Let’s talk about respect too. Top of your list will be finance guys like me and you.”

Tony tried to process this, that strange sensation once again embracing him. “As in like, fraternizing with them?”

“Fraternizing, bonding, appreciating–all that good stuff, Antonio.”

“It's Tony.” Tony should have been peeved, but Jason was one of his kind, one of his bros. It was probably just an accident. Tony quipped, “That cigar isn't laced with anything besides tobacco, is it?”

A cocky smirk appeared underneath Jason’s douchey pornstache. “I think you’re the one using substances, dude. That outfit you’ve got is not our style.”

Before he could process the weird feeling, Tony felt a sense of disgust wash over him before he removed his clothes. With a subtle nod, Jason motioned to a folded outfit already beside Tony on the deck, who then proceeded to immediately strip down to his underwear.

“Before you put that on, Tony,” Jason reconnected their eye contact. “Just wanted to say those workouts are doing you wonders.”

“Uh, thanks I guess? I mean the gym is just a way to relieve stress, really,” Tony nervously replied.

Jason became more authoritative, “Don’t sound so timid, dude. If you’re gonna be a bro, then speak the language.”

Tony chuckled, shaking off the twitch. “You faggin’ out on me, bro? These muscles are for chicks only.” Covering up his perfectly athletic frame, Tony buttoned a crisp white shirt over his pecs and abs before tucking it into a suit trousers and covering those underneath a suit coat. The top was opened to showcase his tanned skin, giving just a glimpse of the glories that could be found below.

“Tony, with that combination of corporate and alpha, I’d think you are a changed man!” Jason commenting, locking eyes.

“Corporate…alpha…” Tony trailed off.

“Speaking of alpha, gotta do something about that jawline.” Jason’s voice was low enough that it was as if he was speaking to himself. “I’d say lantern jaw, small beard, and a pointed chin to match that tailored quiff I got you rocking.”

Tony absorbed the words, processing before responding, “I agree bro. There’s nothing hotter than when the ladies shove a hand through my hair while I shove this massive dick into their panties.

Jason snickered as Tony crudely cupped himself for emphasis, his facial structure stretching out into a more naturally arrogant shape. “Funny man, I thought you said smoking was the only thing hotter than a tight pussy.

After a moment, Tony produced a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and taking that first magnificent inhale. Blowing his own cloud towards Jason, Tony lavished in the feeling of his smoke tickling his well-sculpted mirror.

“You’re so right, bro,” Tony remarked.

Jason grinned, “I always am.”

#male tf #male transformation #dumbification #jock tf #breeder tf #smoking tf

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heian-era-housewife · 6 months ago

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Corporate Affair

Synopsis | The lines between business and pleasure start to blur when you accidentally discover your friend and fellow curse user, Toji Fushiguro, is getting more than just paychecks from your mutual handler, Shiu Kong.

Content | MDNI 18 +, f!reader x toji x shiu, no *actual* sex, suggestive, implied threesome, pantsless toji.

Read Part 2 here

"Kong." The name came out as filthy as a curse. "Next time I see him I'm gonna-" Squaring off with a sidewalk pebble, you sent it skittering down the pavement with a swift kick.

With the failure of your latest mission weighing fresh and heavy on your mind, you set to the streets to get some air, but the late afternoon heat fell down around you in inescapable waves like hot breath. It made you irritable and antsy, or maybe that was just who you were these days. It seemed that, lately, your handler was sending you on the least desireable, most nauseating missions while your friend and cohort, Fushiguro, was getting his pick of the litter. You chalked it up to sexism, but it didn’t make you any less bitter.

It had been a minute since you'd visited Toji so, thinking a drink might improve your mood, you headed toward his place to see if he was home.

Climbing the stairs to his second floor apartment, you could hear muffled voices coming from his unit as you reached the landing. Maybe he already has company, you thought. Lifting a hand to knock anyway, you stopped just before rapping your knuckles on the door as the voice of Shiu Kong reached your ears.

"Fuck, Zen'in. Look what you're making me do," he said brusquely.

"I told ya a thousand times! It's...F-Fushiguro now..." Toji growled, an edge of distress to his voice.

"Yeah, yeah." Shiu spat back dismissively.

Something was off and it wasn't sitting right. Shiu was the last person you wanted to see right now, but your thoughts hung on Toji's strangled words.

On a rushed impulse, you flung open the door, judgement momentarily clouded by blind frustration.

"Shiu I swear to God I-" your words hitched, stuck in your throat, as a hushed silence fell over the room. For a split second, time stood still as you processed the scene before you.

Toji lay back on the couch, pants low on his hips- exposed. Shiu leaned over him, one knee resting on the couch's cushions where he half-stood, belt undone, cigarette hanging casually from his lips just inches from Toji's.

Both of their heads snapped in your direction, wide-eyed horror on Toji's face, mild amusement on Shiu's."You were saying?" He said raising an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed.

Your face drained as you stood, frozen in the open doorway, paralyzed against the shock. Only a choked sound escaped your lips as you stared, open mouthed, at the pair of men you knew so well yet appeared as strangers to you in this moment.

Toji scrambled to yank his pants back up over his hips, keeping his hands on the hem as though they might fall away if he didn't maintain his white-knuckled grip. Shiu stood, straightening his black tie against his clean white shirt, allowing it to hang loosely around his unbuttoned collar. Taking a long, slow drag on his cigarette, he approached you slowly, speaking with a smirk as he slinked closer.

"Don't let me stop you," he simpered in mock concern. "Go ahead! Speak your mind." He prodded, blowing a hazy cloud of smoke toward you as he exhaled deeply.

Your head was spinning, brain working hard to keep up with the rapidly unfolding situation. Mouth dry and breath shallow, words seemed to elude you entirely. That is, until a thought struck you with sudden realization. You chuckled darkly.

"I get it now," you started slowly, shooting a disbelieving grin toward the ceiling. "This is why I've been getting all the shit jobs, isn't it? And here I thought you just didn't like women," your eyes flicked between Shiu and Toji before you continued. "Well...heh...maybe you don't. Just, not in the way I was thinking."

Shiu let out a laugh. "It was never anything personal, sweetheart. I hope you can forgive my..." he nodded over his shoulder to Toji, who was still on the couch, "favoritism."

Toji cast his gaze downward as his cheeks reddened, hands still clutching the waistline of his pants. You'd never seen him like this. Awkward. Vulnerable.

A certain warmth made its way to your core and with a second wave of sudden realization, you found your eyes lingering just a beat too long on your friend. You'd spent many long nights in this apartment over the years sharing a smoke or a drink while griping about work- or lack thereof. Having always found him attractive, you'd entertained the idea of spending some of those nights engaged in a more intimate form of escapism with Toji. Ultimately, you had decided that the nature of your work didn't allow for such relations. Should anything happen to either of you, it'd be better to maintain a certain amount of emotional detachment. Or, at least, that's what you told yourself. But now, seeing him here with cheeks flushed and a sheen of sweat causing the fabric of his shirt to cling to his hardened abs, a pang of jealousy stabbed at your chest having glimpsed a reality that could have been yours, had you taken that leap.

While Toji might be oblivious to your feelings, Shiu was quick to spot the half-second pause that betrayed your innermost thoughts. Flicking his cigarette, he eyed you intensely.

"You could join us."

You were ripped from your momentary daydream, eyes snapping back to Shiu, jaw falling slack- stunned.

"Jesus, Kong!" Toji blurted out, jumping up from the couch.

"Like you haven't thought about-"

"Fuck off, Shiu," Toji growled stepping almost posessively in front of you, drawing himself to full height, squaring off with the rogue handler. Something clicked in your brain.

"I'm just sayin'." Shiu said flippantly.

"She's not just some-" Reaching forward, you closed a hand gently around Toji's wrist, halting his words with your own.

"I want better missions." You stated firmly, causing Toji to whip around and stare at you, dumbfounded.

"Done." Shiu agreed, giving his cigarette an affirming wave.

Toji whipped the other way to gawk at Shiu in disbelief.

"And better pay." You pressed, earning another stunned look from Toji.

"Of course," Shiu smirked.

Coming down from the shock of it all, thinking both lustfully and resolutely of all that was yet to come, a somewhat amusing thought ocurred to you as your eyes darted between the two men whose relationship you now knew to be vastly different than you previously believed.

Closing the door behind you, you asked with a wry smile, "so, are we calling this business...or hell?"

MDNI banner by @cafekitsune ♡

#jjk fic #jjk smut #toji smut #shiu smut #toji fushiguro #shiu kong #toji x reader #shiu x reader #toji x shiu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #toji x you

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divine-girl02 · 1 year ago

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hobie bf headcanons 🎧

★ NOTES just in a really bad hobie brown brainrot rn... enjoy <3

Hobie is the kind of boyfriend who would say smth like "that's pretty, but not as pretty as you." ABOUT ANYTHING !! he'll always manage to bring up how pretty he thinks u are

wasnt much of a texter but when he got with you he put more effort into texting back/texting u

his sleeping clothes consist of those plaid pajama pants or sweatpants and no shirt. if he has a shirt on its either a crop top, or smth sleeveless

if ur the type to have a lot of stuffed animals and treat them like ur children hobie will happily play the role of 'dad' for all ur babies despite it sounding silly

he smells really nice, like a 'i actually cant pinpoint what u smell like' kind of nice, but if u had to boil it down he smells musky and a little bit like the ocean

shows u all the small businesses he shops at so u dont have to spend money on the big corporations

doesnt necessarily force his beliefs onto u but he tries to lead u in a better direction

whenever u go over to his apartment r&b is always playing on his speakers

likes to try and teach u how to play his guitar with you in between his legs every now and then if you dont know how

likes to give u forehead kisses, does it too much honestly. not becuz of any height advantage but becuz he thinks its the sweetest gesture he can do to u

when u guys hold hands he likes to bring ur hand up to his lips and kisses every knuckle

when ur throwing a fit he likes to web u back to him as u walk away cuz u always fall into his arms and he thinks its romantic

teases u a lot, u guys have a best friends and dating kind of trope

most of his gifts for u are DIY <3

his love language is gift giving and acts of service

not much of an emotional or sappy talker so he makes up with his kisses or sweet touches

if ur a glasses wearer best believe hes bullying you (lovingly) for it

enjoys quiet time with u a lot. the kind where ur both just doing ur own things but together. yeah absolute sucker for that

#hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie x you #across the spiderverse #spider man #atsv #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobart brown #hobie brown imagine #hobie fluff #hobie brown fluff #hobie imagine

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fafnir19 · 3 months ago

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To: @alldaystress

The dull buzz of the alarm clock jars you awake, its persistent ringing a stark contrast to the dreary morning. You groan, rolling over in your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs. It's another day at the new job, a position you reluctantly accepted after months of unemployment. As you stretch, your fingers graze the worn fabric of the old band t-shirt you've slept in, a remnant of your college days when you cared more about music and rebellion than grades. It’s your first job after college, but it's not the career launch you'd hoped for. Your grades, never stellar, landed you in this entry-level position with no real prospects for advancement. You had always struggled with commitment, both in your studies and personal life, and your grades reflected that. College was a blur of late nights, parties, and a general lack of direction. Now, at 24, you find yourself starting at the bottom of the corporate ladder, feeling like you've wasted precious years. As you get ready for the day, pulling on a pair of faded jeans and a wrinkled button-down shirt, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your dark brown hair, slightly unkempt, frames your average face, its roundness accentuated by the soft jawline. Brown eyes stare back at you, lacking the spark of confidence and determination that many of your peers seem to possess.

This week you had a boring week-long business convention planned in another city and your taxi to the airport was already waiting for you. You sigh, knowing that today is another step towards a future you're not entirely sure you want.

The hotel lobby is bustling with activity as you step inside, your eyes adjusting to the elegant chandelier's glow. It's a far cry from your usual haunts, a world of luxury you've only ever glimpsed from the outside. You had always felt like an outsider, your rebellious nature a barrier to fitting in. But today, you're here for a convention, a rare opportunity to network and perhaps, just perhaps, find a way out of your dead-end job.

"Welcome to the Grand Summit Hotel," a familiar voice called out. You freeze, recognizing the voice immediately. Jennifer, a former classmate from high school, stands behind the counter, her expression a mix of amusement and mockery.

She was always a bit of an oddball, claiming to be a witch and nerved anyone who crossed her. You had mocked her relentlessly back then, earning the nickname 'Golden Boy' as a sarcastic reference to your lack of ambition and low physical prowess and mediocre grades.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't our Golden Boy!" Jennifer leans forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. You remember her all too well—the self-proclaimed witch who always had a sarcastic remark ready, especially for you.

*So much for witchcraft,* you thought. *She’s stuck here, while I’m—well, still in a dead-end job too.*

“Nice to see you too, Witchie,” you shot back, unable to resist. Her nickname always had a way of irking you, but today, it felt more playful than biting. She chuckled, a sound that surprisingly warmed the space between you. “We’re fully booked, but I had the choice to give you a room by the trash bins. Lucky for you, I decided you deserve an upgrade!” She flashed a smirk, her expression a mix of mischief and genuine friendliness. Puzzled, you raised an eyebrow. “An upgrade? From you? What’s the catch?” She laughed, a melodic sound that echoed through the spacious lobby. “No catch. Just consider it a friendly gesture. Besides, I’m a little tired of being known as the girl who lost to the ‘Golden Boy.’” You followed her to the top floor, the elevator climbing steadily. As the doors opened, you stepped into the suite, your breath hitching. The sleek black and silver design was modern and striking, like something straight out of a high-end ad. Your heart raced with a mix of disbelief and admiration. “Wow,” you breathed, glancing around. “This is... impressive.”

You tossed yourself onto the oversized bed, the silk sheets feeling like a decadent cloud. “I could get used to this,” you said, a cocky grin spreading across your face. In a playful move, Jennifer tossed the silk bed cover over you, covering you completely. “Now you’re just a golden burrito!” You laughed, your voice muffled beneath the fabric. “At least I’m a cozy one!” The game was on, and you attempted to wriggle free, planning to retaliate with a pillow. Yet, the cover was more confining than expected, and your struggles only entangled you further. "Hey, let me out!" you shouted, your voice muffled by the silk. But your struggles only resulted in Jennifer's laughter. "Jennifer, this isn't funny!" you called out, a hint of panic creeping in. "Relax, Golden Boy," her melodic voice replied, followed by a soft laugh. "Relax and lay down, Golden Boy," Jennifer's voice, now serious, instructed. "You're making this harder than it needs to be." You froze, realizing she wasn't playing anymore.

Her hands found your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you down. "No need to fight it. Surrender to the silk." The sensation of her touch through the silk was peculiar. It was as if the fabric had become an extension of her, caressing your skin, making you hyperaware of every nerve ending. "What... what are you doing?" you managed to utter, your voice weak against the tide of pleasure and surprise. "Shh," she whispered, her breath warm against your ear. "No more resistance. You've always been a fighter, but here, now, it's time to let go." Her fingers traced patterns on your chest, sending shivers down your spine. "Listen to my voice, Golden Boy. Let it guide you." Your body felt leaden, as if a weight was pulling you deeper into the bed. "I... I can't move," you stammered, the realization hitting you. "That's right," she cooed, her finger now resting gently on your lips. "You don't need to. It's liberating, isn't it? No more expectations, no more pretending." Her words were like a spell, each one binding you further. "You've never truly been in control, have you? Not in school, not in life. It's exhausting, fighting it all the time."

You tried to argue, but the words caught in your throat as her hands glided lower. "W-wait," you stammer, your voice weak and you realize with a start that she's touching you intimately, despite your protests. "Oh, look at that," she purred with satisfaction, her fingers caressing the growing bulge that was appearing in the sheets. . "You're responding beautifully. Let the horniness flow through you. Don't fight it, not even for a second." Her hand stroking over your silk-covered erection, and you gasp as pleasure surges through you. "Oh... but I..." Your words trail off as her touch ignites a fire within you. You're hardening under her touch, the throbbing between your legs contradicting your sexual orientation. "Oh, Golden Boy, don't fight it. I know you're gay, but your body knows what it wants. It's natural, just let it happen." Her voice is almost hypnotic, and you find yourself agreeing, your body craving more. "Y-yes..." You moan softly as her strokes become more insistent, your cock straining against the silk. "Shh... It's okay to want this," she whispers, her fingers continuing their sensual dance. "Let go of your inhibitions. You're so eager, so responsive. It's perfect." Your mind is spinning, the sensation of her touch overwhelming. You feel yourself sinking further into the bed, the silk sheets caressing your skin.

"That's it," Jennifer cooed, her fingers now stroking the length of your hardened cock. "You have no choice but to feel. No choice but to be exactly what you are in this moment. Nothing else matters." Your mind was blank, filled only with the need to surrender, to let go of everything but the pleasure. The world around you fades, and all that's left is the silk, her touch, and the pleasure coursing through your veins. You are sinking, surrendering to the sensation, to her. "You're doing exactly what you should, Golden Boy. So eager to please, so ready to obey." Her voice is a distant hum as you descend deeper into the bed, the darkness enveloping you.

"You're doing perfectly. No more thinking, just feeling. You're so horny, so ready to please." The silk caressed every inch of your skin, and you sank deeper, the mattress molding around you. "Yes, surrender to it," Jennifer whispered, her voice distant yet commanding. "Forget who you were. You're Golden Boy now, eager, obedient. No more doubts, no more resistance." The room spun as you sunk further, the silk a dark, sensuous cocoon. "Yes, let it consume you," she whispers, and then, darkness. The last thing you felt was the silk against your skin, and then nothing. The suite fell silent, and Jennifer, with a satisfied smile, smoothed the covers, erasing all traces of your existence.

The darkness enveloped you, and time became an abstract concept as you lay there, unconscious. But soon, a sensation stirred you from your slumber, a feeling of being stretched and pulled, awakening your senses. It was then that you realized, with a jolt of horror, you weren't just lying on a bed anymore. "Oh, fuck," a deep, masculine voice groaned above you. You were being pulled taut, and the realization hit you— you were a silk sheet, and beneath you was a man's throbbing erection and he was jerking off.

Marcus, the handsome executive, lay there, his eyes closed in pleasure, completely oblivious to your presence. His hands gripped the silk—you—and began to stroke himself, the friction of his movements sending shivers through your transformed body. "Oh, yes," he moaned, his voice deep and husky. "This silk feels incredible."

The tip of his cock, hard and pulsating, pressed against you, and a drop of pre-cum oozed from the slit, seeping into your silky fabric. The intimate contact sparked a surprising reaction within you. The horror you initially felt began to melt away, replaced by a strange, unfamiliar joy.

The pleasure he derived from your silkiness was intoxicating. You wanted to please him, to be used for his pleasure, to be the best silk sheet he had ever experienced. The thought of being a mere object of desire filled you with a sense of purpose. You were grateful to be the vessel of his satisfaction, a tool for his release.

As he continued to stroke, your transformation began to reverse, the silk giving way to flesh, muscle, and bone. As his strokes grew faster, so did your transformation. You could feel your body changing, the silk fabric becoming skin once more. The process was slow, but with each stroke of his cock, you were coming back to life, back to being human. You emerged from the silk, your body now straddling Marcus, your legs on either side of his waist. With that, you began instinctively to move, rising and falling on his shaft, your body now fully restored to its human form. The pleasure was unlike anything you'd experienced before. You rode him with a newfound confidence, your movements fluid and graceful. "Yes, that's it," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your motions. His intense gaze locked onto you, a mixture of satisfaction and predatory hunger flashing across his face. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and commanding. You paused, searching your mind.

The name on the tip of your tongue feels foreign. "Golden Boy," you blurted out, unsure why those words came to mind. It felt right, yet wrong at the same time. A sense of unease washes over you as you realize you can't remember anything else. "Perfect," Marcus purrs, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Let's see if Jennifer delivered on her promise." As if on cue, you glanced at the mirror, barely recognizing the reflection staring back at you. The person in the mirror was younger, their face sculpted with sharp, defined features. Lean muscles rippled beneath smooth, hairless skin, and your eyes widened at the sight of your own chiseled physique. But it was your hair that drew your attention—short golden locks with shaved sides, a stark contrast to your previous unkempt style. Before you could fully process your transformation, Marcus flipped you onto your back with a swift, dominant move.

You gasped as his hard length pushed into you, and you instinctively tried to resist, declaring, "I'm a top!" "You're a top, huh?" he whispers, his hot breath tickling your ear. "Well, I'm your mentor now, and I'll teach you a thing or two about success." You struggle against his hold, a surge of defiance rising within you. But his words ignite a spark of curiosity, and you find yourself intrigued by the idea of learning from this powerful man.

He whispered, "I'll teach you the path to success." His words ignited a fire within you, a desire to embrace this new version of yourself. You struggled against his hold, not out of resistance, but from the sheer thrill of it. As he overpowered you, his weight pressing down, you realized this was how he asserted his dominance. You spread your legs, surrendering to the moment, your body arching to meet his thrusts. "You like not being in control, don't you, Golden Boy?" he purred, his voice a seductive caress. "Especially when I'm the one in charge." The truth of his words hit you hard. You craved his control, the power he exuded, and the promise of success he offered. "Yes," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. "Yes, I do." Marcus's thrusts became more urgent, his body a blur of motion above you. "You will be successful, determined, and superior," he growled. "But with me, you are obedient, my loyal subject." His words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you cried out, "Yes, Sir! Make me yours!" As if your surrender was the final piece he needed, Marcus's body tensed, and he spilled his release inside you. Your own cock, throbbing with need, refused to find release. Marcus noticed your torment, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Cum, Golden Boy," he commanded, his voice laced with power. At his words, your orgasm exploded, and you came with a force that left you breathless.

With your climax, the rebellious spirit is gone, replaced by a burning desire to fit in and succeed, no matter the cost. You smiled, a new determination burning in your transformed eyes. You knew, without a doubt, that Marcus was the mentor you needed, and you would do whatever it took to climb the ladder of success by his side.

The transformation had left you with a new sense of purpose, and as you stepped out of the shower, feeling the warm water wash away the remnants of your old self, you couldn't help but smirk at the thought of Marcus' words. "Now you are mine, I own you," he had said, and you were ready to embrace this new path.

Marcus appeared in the bathroom, his tall, commanding figure filling the doorway. He holds a sleek dress shirt, the kind you've always associated with the old-money elite, and drapes it over your shoulders. You grimace; this is not your style, not who you used to be. "Thanks, but this isn't really my thing," you say, attempting to assert a fragment of your old self. "Oh, but it is, Golden Boy," Marcus purred, his breath warm on your ear. "It's exactly what you've always wanted. You want to be my right hand, don't you?" His words held a hypnotic quality, and you felt your resistance fading. The idea of being his trusted confidant, his right-hand man, began to take root in your mind, pushing aside your old identity. "Tell me, who are you?" Marcus's voice was soft, almost tender. "Golden Boy," you heard yourself say, the words flowing effortlessly. "Your right hand. The epitome of future success." As Marcus buttons up the shirt, his fingers brushing against your skin, you feel a surge of loyalty and desire to please him. The thought of being his right hand, of being an integral part of his empire, is exhilarating. The last remnants of your past life seemed to drift away, like a fading dream and a new identity is being forged, one that is charismatic, confident, and utterly devoted to Marcus. You were no longer the rebellious outsider; you were Golden Boy, a name that now felt like a perfect fit.

The door clicks open, and Jennifer enters, her eyes flickering between you and Marcus. "Do you want to pay cash or by card for my witchcraft?" she asks, her voice laced with satisfaction. Marcus reaches into his pocket and produces a thick wad of bills, handing them to Jennifer with a satisfied grin. "You've exceeded my expectations. I'm impressed, Jennifer." You watch as Jennifer takes the money, her eyes sparkling with triumph. As she turns to leave, you point at her, confusion clouding your mind. "Do I know her?" Marcus's laughter fills the room, warm and rich. "No, Golden Boy. She is a part of your past, and your past no longer holds any significance. Focus on your future, on our future." And in that moment, you knew he was right. Your past life, your struggles, and even your memories were fading into the void. All that mattered was your new identity, your role as Golden Boy, and your mentor, Marcus. As you walked past the reception, Jennifer's eyes followed you. She couldn't help but notice the change. Your stride was confident, your posture proud, and your attire exuded the old-money style.

A vain smirk played on your lips, and Marcus' possessive hand rested on your shoulder. *How sweet you look now, Golden Boy,* Jennifer thought, a hint of satisfaction in her smile. *Nomen est Omen. You should have known better than to cross a witch, back in high school.* But you didn't hear her. Your mind was already focused on the future, on the success that awaited you, and on the powerful man by your side. The old you is gone, and in his place stands a man with a purpose, a man ready to conquer the world at Marcus's side. You were Golden Boy, and nothing else mattered.

#Secret TF Writers Swap #male tf #personality change #age regression

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solecize · 9 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining, jungkook as a parental figure 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 5.4k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. mentions of death

part seven: the all-nighter ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ previous. next. masterlist

xvii. the all-nighter

for the last three years of your life, you were used to living alone. you naturally gravitated solitude as you grew older and away from your days with your family and college dorms. nothing really “freaked” you out, even when you lived in the city with a higher crime rate. spiders? just step on them. random noises? it’s just creaky floorboards.

however, you were not prepared for someone pounding at your door at one in the morning.

on days that you worked, you had a strict ten thirty bedtime and couldn’t break it unless you had time for a nap or more than one cup of coffee the next day. you were fast asleep when you woke up, thinking you heard banging over the sound of your white noise machine. for the first few minutes, you shook it off, trying to grasp again onto your slumber. but, the banging continued and your eyes immediately opened, wide.

on instinct, you rolled over and with your head to the ground, grabbed the crowbar that you kept underneath your bed. there was some yelling that accompanied the banging and your blood ran cold. eyes darting around for your cell phone, you realized it was charging in the living room.

“are you kidding me?” you whispered to yourself, tip-toeing as carefully as you could across your bedroom’s usually creaky floorboards.

head ducked down as far as you could, you creeped slowly below your window and tugged your linen curtains to the side. then, centimetre by centimetre, you tried to peer outside. you thought your heart dropped when you woke up to the sound of pounding, until you took sight of the source.

you were filled to the brim with anger, groaning out loud. immediately, you made a beeline down the stairs and nearly ripped the door open.

“jeon jungkook, you scared the hell out of me!” you yelled, feeling like your voice was bursting out of your throat.

in front of you stood jeon jungkook in baggy grey sweatpants and a white tank-stop, sweater tied around his waist. you noticed how his hair up in every direction imaginable. the image forced you to reel it in for a second and you almost felt bad for screaming at jungkook. though, the panic in his eyes briefly flashed away when you also took in the sight in front of him and you noticed the way his shoulders were holding back a laugh.

jungkook finally let the laugh out. “why are you holding a crowbar?”

even though you discovered it was just him at the door and not a serial killer, you were still clutching onto your weapon when running down the stairs. you huffed and didn’t answer him, placing it next to the shoe rack at the door. this was also when you realized that you hadn’t done anything before answering the door, meaning that you were only wearing a baggy t-shirt. if jungkook noticed, he didn’t make it known - then again, it seemed like he was looking in every direction but your own.

“is everything okay?” you asked, grumbling and closing the door slightly, just enough to hide the bottom part of your body and for your head to stick out.

“no. jiwon is missing.”

jungkook ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, bouncing up and down on his feet. his lips were pressed in a straight line, deep in thought. meanwhile, you felt sick.

“what do you mean, jiwon is missing?” your mouth was wide open.

“i’m so stupid!” jungkook yelled, now beginning to pace back and forth. “it’s my fault!”

at this point, you had to step out from inside the door and grab jungkook to get his attention. “jungkook! jungkook, hello? what happened?” you demanded.

he sighed, still not meeting your eye. “we had a fight after dinner and i accidentally fell asleep after. when i woke up an hour ago, she was gone.”

your head whipped around, trying to get a look of the clock in your living room. it was nearly twenty after one. you immediately made a beeline for where your phone was charging, shouting for jungkook to shut the front door behind him.

“have you called the police? where have you checked?”

“bunny, are you crazy? i can’t call the police!” jungkook exclaimed and the aggressiveness of the way you turned to face him again was marked by disbelief.

you were convinced he had lost his mind. your phone was already in your hand, thumb hovering over the dialpad. instead, he walked towards you and gently pushed it down.

jungkook sighed. “i can’t call the police.”

“i don’t understand,” you replied, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“i can’t call the police because what if they take her out of my care?” he said. “maybe it sounds like a stretch, but i’m afraid the government will see me as an unfit guardian. i don’t want to get any officials involved - at least not yet.”

you squeezed your eyes shut. it was understandable that jungkook had these concerns, but it seemed like either decision was going to be risky.

jungkook continued, “look, the court gave me a really hard time when i was making my case for guardianship, demonstrating responsibility and everything. i was lucky when they granted approval. even then, for the first little while, they had eyes on us constantly - monitoring me for any little fuck up i could make.”

it was something that often came to mind when you thought about jiwon, how jungkook managed to take on so much and seemed to be fine. you understood that there were many people close to the family that helped out where they could, but it was still an extraordinary feat in your eyes.

“what if she’s in some serious danger?” you said.

he shook his head. “c’mon. we live in the valley, nothing bad ever happens here. she probably just got mad and got lost.” jungkook seemed calm by his voice, but he hadn’t stopped pacing. it was as if he always also trying to convince himself of his own words. he had a point, as the town was relatively peaceful, but your own mind was racing and you were stunned with fear.

“jungkook, i don’t know - “

“she’s all i have! i’m so fucking worried out of my mind, but she’s all i have!” jungkook cried out, finally stopping to crouch down and hand his head down. he did his best to shy his face away from your view, covering himself with his arms.

without missing a beat, you immediately stepped towards him and got down on your knees. his stance was strong, but you managed to wrap your arms around his back from behind him. you could feel his body shake with every sob, releasing each one like he’d been holding them for far too long.

“okay, okay, shh. . .” you soothed, rubbing his back and pressing your cheek into his shoulder. you felt his shoulders drop ever so slightly at your touch. “we’ll find her. we’ll find her, i promise and no one is going to take your sister away from you.”

“i thought i was doing a good job. . .”

“kookie, you’ve been doing a great job with her,” you interrupted and the nickname fell out of your mouth before you even knew it. you didn’t even know you remembered the nickname. it’d been years since you’d ever said it and not once did you call jungkook his childhood nickname since moving back.

at this, jungkook could only reciprocate your touch, snaking his own arms around you and holding you like you were going to fly away. you tucked his head under your chin, whispering more reassurances into his hair. his sobs slowly decreased, as he hastily swiped at his face.

you said, “let’s go look for her. but, if we don’t find her in an hour, we have to call the police.”

jungkook nodded, sniffling. he slowly droped his arms from around your torso, though you could have sworn you felt him hesitate to do so.

and from here, in all your grogginess and anxiety, you picked yourself up and jumped into the first pair of pants you found to head out with jungkook. despite your exterior, you were also quite shaken that jiwon was gone and unlike jungkook, you were worried that she wasn’t simply “lost” somewhere in town. even in sleepy town like amber valley, anything was possible, but you didn’t want to give him more reasons to worry.

when the two of you walked out the front door of the farmhouse together, jungkook briefed you on the specifics out what was happening.

“i asked the boys to help out. namjoon and jimin are heading to the woods, taehyung and seokjin are by the river, and hoseok and yoongi are checking main street,” he said, walking a step ahead of you in order to lead the way. “and, um, sorry i went and woke you up like that. you weren’t answering your phone.”

there was about sixteen missed calls from jungkook when you checked your screen and the sight made your heart heavy. you would have picked up in a second, whether not or not you were to wake up at five in the morning. you apologized to jungkook and he waved you off, saying it wasn’t a big deal.

it was also made clear that jiwon left her phone at home, which frustrated jungkook even more because of his constant reiteration to her in regards to always having it. there was absolutely no sign as to where she could be and jungkook needed trusted eyes everywhere, just in case.

the next little while was only filled with silence between the two of you. he passed you a flashlight, while holding his own, as the majority of roads in the valley had very few streetlights. you weren’t sure where the two of you were walking towards, as jungkook had his eyes glued to his phone and thumbs tapping rapidly - presumably talking to the other boys.

“the beach,” jungkook suddenly said, as if reading your mind. “we’re heading towards the beach.”

you recognized several landmarks that confirmed this, looking around and rubbing your arms from the wind. despite the summer season, it had no chance against the dead of the night. the surroundings only grew cooler with each step towards the beach.

you said, “any updates?”

“no,” jungkook responded with a sigh. while on his phone, he was looking up every other second to identify any sudden movements that could have been jiwon. but, it was all road and no sign of the little girl.

you paused, before mustering as much strength as you could. “JIWON!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, as soon as the two of you stood at the path towards the beach.

jungkook looked at you, almost jumping at your sudden shout. he then brought a hand to the side of his mouth and did the same, screaming his sister’s name at the top of his lungs.

the two of you continued doing this, jogging down the path until the dirt beneath your sandals became sand. you had yet to visit the beach since moving back and although it was dark, the smell of salt filled your senses and that was enough to take you right back to what it was like spending your youth by the ocean.

still screaming for jiwon, the two of you split up in opposite directions and wildly waved around your flashlight at every nook and cranny in sight.

“jiwon! jiwon! ji - “ you sighed. it had been nearly ten minutes at this point and you were freezing cold. the beach stretched far and you had yet to cover even half of it. the more you checked for the time, the more anxious you grew.

then, you felt something drape over your shoulders and you turned around, knowing it was jungkook. his eyes were bloodshot red, looking like he hadn’t stopped crying since the two of you parted ways. despite his, his features were expressionless and that was in spite of the cold conditions, as his arms were still bare and he kindly gave up his sweater to put over your own body.

jungkook’s voice was low. “this is hopeless.” he turned around, facing where he had come from. “nothing on that end. i thought i’d join you.”

“this isn’t hopeless, don’t say that,” you shot back, immediately forgetting your own worries to shut down jungkook’s.

“it’s my fault, too. she was so pissed at me earlier,” he groaned. “and we never fight. this is all my fault.”

“stop that,” you said.

jungkook shook his head. “i don’t know what’s gotten into her lately.”

he trudged on with you at his side, while you continued to scream for jiwon at every other second until jungkook tapped on your shoulder. you stopped, looking at him in confusion.

“maybe we should tone down the yelling. we’re walking towards some houses and, well, i don’t want to wake people up,” he mumbled.

“you mean you don’t want the town to talk. it’s okay,” you replied at a lower volume, lips pressed into a thin smile.

jungkook’s eyes softened at your understanding. “the community helps me out as much as they talk. there’s people i trust, but i’ve always been given a hard time for being in charge of jiwon. i can’t imagine what the kids might be saying to her at school for having no parents. . .”

“well, instead she got the best big brother in the world.”

“yeah, the best big brother who lost her,” he nearly spat, bitterness coating every single word.

you understood more and more why jungkook didn’t immediately call law enforcement when he found that jiwon was gone. the legal challenges that he could face was one thing and possibly something that could be successfully overcome, but the whispers that spread around a small town were sticky like honey. he didn’t need more on his plate to add on to what he was already likely dealing with.

“so,” you began, hoping that small talk might ease jungkook’s tenseness, “how’s work going?”

“work is work,” he replied dryly, not saying anything more.

“i mean, your only co-worker is a thirteen year old. i can see why it might be boring,” you attempted to drag the conversation, but jungkook was unresponsive. outside of the current situation, you remembered your last encounter with jungkook at the market, which was a week ago at this point.

you thought things were slowly going back to normal with him, but it seemed like he was holding himself back from letting it happen every time. now that the conversation was drawing away from the objective of finding jiwon, it was like jungkook was reminded of what was going on with you. you let out a deep sigh, which made him look at you.

“what? i can’t sigh because it’s obvious you’re mad at me for something?”

“i’m not mad at you,” jungkook said.

you grumbled, “you definitely are. why have you been acting like this?”

“like what?” he responded, looking back ahead and not at you.

it was nearing an hour since departing from the farmhouse at this point and although you were no long half-asleep, you were instead felt growing distress. there had yet to be a call from any of the boys either.

“oppa!” a voice shrieked and your heart jumped out of your chest.

jungkook froze, looking around as if he was hearing things. the voice screamed again and just like that, he jumped to a full sprint towards the direction of the voice. you followed instantly, using all of your strength in your legs to dash alongside jungkook.

“jiwon? JIWON!”

he was much, much faster than you were and although you were doing your best to keep up, he eventually surpassed you. by the time you caught up, your throat was as dry as a desert and your head was levitating above your shoulders. every breath you took was aggressive and every huff was strained.

but, in front of you, jungkook was on one knee and clutching jiwon in his arms. she was sobbing into his shoulder and he, too, was crying with his head hung low. in between each sob, jiwon kept apologizing to her brother.

“i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to - i’m sorry!” she wailed, drool now leaving her mouth and mixing with her tears.

jungkook could barely take in air, hiccuping through his weeping. “don’t you ever scare me like that again - what would i do with myself if something happened to you?” he managed to spit out, trembling with every words. his entire body cried with him, shaking uncontrollably. the sight of jungkook’s pained face and the complete breakdown of his body was foreign to you.

now, you noticed there was another figure in your presence, having completely missed it at first. it was another tiny frame and you recognized it to be sangwoo from the general store, jiwon’s friend. it seemed like he came here with her.

you wiped away the stream of salty tears down your own cheeks, approaching the jungkook and jiwon. you took off jungkook’s sweater, biting back the sharpness of the ocean air, and wrapped it around jiwon’s body.

to your surprise, jiwon let go of jungkook and immediately jumped in your arms.

“don’t cry, honey. shh, we’re here, you’re safe,” you whispered, caressing her hair with one hand and wiping her cheeks with the other. she squeezed your body so hard that you thought she was crushing your bones.

you hugged her back just as hard, rocking her slightly until her sobs became quiet whimperings of apologies. across from you, jungkook watched the two of you, still displaying clear pain on his face. he was still catching his breath, inhaling deeply with a crease in between his eyebrows.

squeezing his eyes shut, jungkook finally spoke. “what were you thinking, jiwon?”

“i thought i could find my way back,” she responded, her volume growing once more and transitioning back to sobs.

“don’t blame her! it was all me!” interrupted sangwoo and jungkook’s eyes flashed with anger, finally taking note of the other boy.

“what the hell happened?”

sangwoo’s eyes were wide in fear. “i’m sorry! she said she was upset and wanted to go on a walk, so we came here,” he said, nearly on the verge of tears himself. “then, we got lost. i’m so sorry!”

you frowned, pulling jiwon’s tiny body closer and shaking your head at jungkook. she needed a second and he sighed, understanding this. jungkook also understood it was time to swallow his anger at sangwoo, deciding a death stare was sufficient and mouthed to him that he would deal with him later. poor sangwoo looked like he was seeing a ghost. then, jungkook instead stood up and walked a few steps away, making a call.

when you saw this, you couldn’t help but gesture for sangwoo. you widened your arms, making enough room for a second body and sangwoo quickly joined the group hug. you continued telling the two children that everything was okay.

“yeah. . .we have her. yeah. for sure, thank you so much,” he murmured into the phone, just barely audible over the sound of ocean waves in the background.

while he was talking, jiwon finally calmed down again. she pulled away, sniffling and met your eyes.

“i’m sorry. i thought i was helping,” jiwon said, which confused you. you weren’t sure what she was talking about.

you responded, “helping what, honey?”

she bit her lip and somehow, you just knew. it was identical to the guilty expression jungkook wore when he was hiding something or he knew something you didn’t. jiwon tugged the sweater tighter around her body before she spoke again.

“you and oppa. . .”

“oppa and who?” it looked like jungkook was finished with his calls, appearing out of nowhere. he no longer looked upset, especially when he saw the look on his sister’s face, and narrowed his eyes at her.

you shot jungkook a look. “let her speak. later.”

the four of you decided it was best to leave the beach, especially since neither you or jungkook had any outerwear to shield yourself from the elements. it was growing later and later, too, and it was agreed to walk back towards the direction of your respective houses. the entire time was filled with silence again, but it was mostly because jungkook looked like he was going to snap if anyone were to talk.

sangwoo was dropped off at his mom’s house, pleading for jungkook to not tell his mom.

he looked genuinely conflicted, even through his anger at the younger boy. “i respect your mom a lot. sorry, kid,” jungkook shook his head.

sangwoo groaned, shoulders dropping. “okay. . .i understand. i’m really sorry again,” he said. “it won’t ever, ever happen again.”

there was light on when you all arrived to the oh house and that was when sangwoo knew he was done for. a shadowy figure moved from behind the front windows, swinging the door open before he even made it up the stairs. you winced when you saw the blank look on mrs. oh’s face, scarier than any kind of anger imaginable.

“get inside,” was all she said, arms folded firmly across her chest.

“i’ll see you tomorrow. . .or never, if i get grounded for life,” sangwoo said to jiwon, visibly sulking.

they exchanged a quick hug and he headed in, right past his mother. you fought a smile because, despite the circumstances, there was nothing more pure than a friendshp at their age. they were ready to go bat to bat for each other, each attempting to take the entirety of the blame. mrs. oh then shut the door behind her, features now softened. she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“you’re okay, sweetie?” she asked jiwon, who silently nodded. “i’m sorry. sangwoo should have known better, he’s the older one.”

somehow, it reminded you of something, maybe a memory, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. you couldn’t dwell any longer because mrs. oh now turned to you and jungkook, who had already begun apologizing and bowed at a ninety degree angle.

“oh, that’s enough, jungkook. i know it’s not your fault,” mrs. oh said, tapping him to stop. “i’m not angry at you at all, got that?”

“but - “

“listen, sangwoo and jiwon safe, that’s all that matters to me. you must’ve been terrified,” she frowned. "i wouldn't have even known he snuck out if you didn't call me."

the last thing jungkook wanted to do was ruin his relationship with a woman who took such good care of him and jiwon, but she was more concerned with the three of you getting some sleep. she even kissed jungkook on the temple when saying goodbye and he visibly eased up afterwards.

eventually, you and jungkook found yourselves on the porch of the farmhouse. it was a quicker trek back than it was towards the beach, likely due to the suspense of trying to locate jiwon. you were pleased at this, though, given the already long night. it was nearly four in the morning now and you knew that this would create chaos for your sleeping schedule, deciding in your head to take the day off.

“get in, i’ll deal with you later,” jungkook muttered, opening your front door slightly for jiwon to walk in. “bunny and i are gonna talk, just go sit down.”

jiwon, with her head still hung low, followed her brother’s orders and walked inside. he closed the door behind her, running a hand through his disheveled hair. jungkook was the most calm he’d been all night, but it still looked like he was ready to scream his head off.

you tucked a stray hair behind your ear, taking a seat on the bench beside the door. he joined you, mumbling something under his breath about how he couldn’t believe that just happened.

“hey, it’s okay. we found her -” you murmured, rubbing his back gently.

“- thank you,” jungkook interjected, finally spitting out some coherent words. “you saved my life today.”

“i only helped where i could.”

“and it means the world to me. thank you,” he whispered, meeting your eyes.

you still couldn’t believe how the events of the night unfolded. you were relieved and tired, but most of all, you were overjoyed for jungkook. it was like you physically witnessed a huge weight lifted off his shoulders.

you said, “in a heartbeat, jungkook. i’d help you at any time, anywhere.”

and this was the truth. even though tension was growing between you two and even if he came banging at your door in the middle of the night, jungkook was still your friend at the end of the day.

“i’m sorry to have kept you up. looks like we stayed up all night,” jungkook said.

“like we used to when we were kids. you know,” you paused, trying to think. “i think this happened once when we were younger. sangwoo and jiwon got caught staying out late the same way we did that one time.”

this memory was slowly becoming less blurry the more you focused on it, trying to put together the puzzle pieces. on the walk back to the farmhouse, something felt all too familiar about the stroll in the middle of the night. jungkook was quiet, thinking about what you said, until it hit him, too.

“wait, you’re right,” jungkook managed to chuckle, the first time you’d seen him smile all night. “we stayed out late one time because you heard a rumour about a ghost in the woods.”

“yeah, from freaking jimin. i can’t believe i believed him,” you laughed, swinging your feet.

jungkook replied, “you dragged me out to find the ghost and my mom came looking for us!” and of course, though he didn't mention it, jungkook took the blame for you back then. in fact, he always took the blame the same way he let you win every argument.

the two of you shared another laugh together, before it faded into silence again. it looked like jungkook was deep in thought again.

he sighed, looking up at the night sky littered with stars. “so, jiwon and i fought earlier because today marked the anniversary of our parents’ accident. i’ve never wanted to do anything on this day for years, not even visit their grave. mrs. oh had to take her,” jungkook admitted. “she was really mad at me for that. said something along the lines about how i haven’t been able to let myself be happy since they died.”

“well,” you began, carefully, “have you?”

the question was heavy, prompting a blanket of silence for a few seconds. you weren’t sure if you said something wrong, but the look on jungkook’s face seemed to be a pondering one, as if genuinely reflecting on your question. the fact that he had to think about it made you sigh.

“i just don’t know what made her say that. . .” he trailed off.

“why don’t i come with you next time?”

jungkook raised his eyebrows. “to where?”

“to visit your parents,” you responded, smiling softly. “is it hard to visit with jiwon?”

you knew exactly how it felt. it was difficult for you to visit your grandfather’s grave with either of your parents, unable to let your guard down around people you wanted to present a strong front to. with jiwon, you wondered if jungkook had a hard time because of his role as her guardian, his role to assure that he was strong.

he frowned once more, looking at his shoes. “i’d like it a lot if you came.” jungkook’s voice was barely above a whisper. “you always seem to help.”

“you deserve to let yourself be happy.”

then, jungkook looked up at you again and you felt the intensity of his stare. you noticed suddenly how close the two of you were sitting to one another, legs pressed up against the other. this was despite the large space on your other side, more than enough room on the bench for you to scoot over, but the option never came to mind.

his eyes glanced down to your lips and quickly, as if it never happened, back to your eyes. you were holding your breath. he slowly moved towards you, so slow that you could count every half centimetre he moved.

you knew what jungkook was doing.

more importantly, at that very same moment, you realized the vulnerable state he was in. you couldn’t, not now. what kind of person would you be if you kissed him right after he thought his sister was missing? jungkook’s lips were brushing just against yours when you sharply pulled back.

jungkook didn’t have time to react because a beat later, the front door creaked open. it was jiwon, frowning at you for some reason. she peeked her head out, before fully stepping onto the porch.

“were you standing there the whole time? i told you to stay inside,” jungkook whipped around and his stern voice grew in volume. his face was turned away from yours and you couldn’t tell what his reaction was to you pulling away.

jiwon sighed. “well, i need to tell you guys something.”

she waddled over to where you guys were, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. jiwon played with her hair nervously, as the two of you could only stare at her.

“what is it?” you asked, making sure your voice was soft. it was also imperative that you were fighting off the shakiness in your voice, as if she caught you doing something you shouldn’t have been doing.

jungkook also sat there, pretending like what just happened didn’t occur at all. he sat too stiffly, in fact, and moved away from you as far as he could. you clenched your jaw, not fully processing that your lips touched his. there were goosebumps up and down your arms, visible to both siblings.

“i didn’t run away just because i was mad about today,” she took a deep breath. “i, well, i wanted to see you guys together.”

“what?” you and jungkook said in unison. both of you had your jaws dropped, completely stunned at jiwon’s confession.

“i knew that oppa would ask you to help him find me,” jiwon mumbled, turning to you. “i just didn’t know i would actually get lost.”

“you - “ jungkook started, but you elbowed him before he could continue.

jiwon panicked, eyes wide. “i’m sorry! i really am!” she began rambling at this point and you could barely make out what she was saying, stumbling on every words. “ - and it seemed like you guys were fighting and i just wanted to help and i thought you guys would make up and - “

you knew you had to interrupt before jungkook could. “come here, honey,” you said, opening your arms wide. jiwon sniffled and stood up, walking into your hug.

as jiwon kept rambling into your shoulder, you looked up and saw the frustration on jungkook’s face. he didn’t say anything, only mouthing the words “i’m sorry” to you. meanwhile, you could only assure jiwon that you and her brother were still very much friends. the entire time, jungkook leaned back watched with his arms acrossed.

the blood orange of the sun was creeping up on the sky when you bade jungkook and jiwon goodbye, a sunrise that would have been otherwise beautiful, if not for the unsaid words between you and jungkook.

jiwon grew drowsy, nearly asleep when it was time to go. jungkook carried her on his back, telling you goodbye and nothing more than that. you also did not bring up what nearly happened between the two of you earlier.

at the end of the long night, there was only one thing on your mind. you could finally accept that you had feelings for jungkook. you only knew this because, for the next while, you kicked yourself constantly for not kissing him. but, of course, you had doubts in your mind about him. you were convinced that he only tried kissing you because his emotions carried him away. you thought otherwise after your failed confession, where you shut down all possible emotions after jungkook suggested to ask out taehyung. then, there were your recurring dreams of him. there was the almost kiss. you were fighting with yourself up until this moment.

of course, nearing two months since moving back to the valley, these thoughts could only be contained for so long. with that, you and jungkook could only avoid each other for so long. even with jiwon interfering, nothing could prepare you for what was to happen the next time you saw jeon jungkook.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @sstrongstyle @wobblewobble822 @taiwan0618 @seokout @firelcrds @xwniazx @shellyyy177 @myseokjinji