Wonyoung Is So Pretty

wonyoung is so pretty

sin city

pairing: gambler!sunghoon x afab baritsa!reader

requested: no

genre: smut, angst and some fluff (minors dni!!!)

warnings: brief mention of female masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), lowkey exhibitionism and humiliation, spitting, mild face fucking, wax play, protected sex, use of a gag, alcohol consumption, use of drugs (coke + LSD, be safe and don't do drugs), gambling (obv), brief mention of blood, readers boss is kinda yucky and her parents suck

word count: 12.8K

a/n: well... second times the charm 😻 hopefully my tags work this time and again apologies for posting this then deleting it because tumblr was being dumb. i suck at proofreading so if there’s any mistakes let me know. still v nervous to be sharing this w all of you but as always let me know your thoughts, i hope you enjoy (and again, ignore any repeat/messed up paragraphs bc tumblr still has yet to fix that glitch)

this is a work of fiction and is not meant to accurately depict or portray the idols mentioned. photos not mine, credits to original owners (retrieved from pinterest)

fail is such an aggressive word. to fail at something is embarrassing, humiliating, shameful! the self-loathing and unwanted pity from others is what makes failure simply unbearable.

which is why you didn’t tell your parents that you were failing university. you simply told them it was a personal choice; you were dropping out.

at first they were confused, and thought you were planning on transferring to school elsewhere, or just taking a gap year to focus on something else. travel, self discovery, mental health, time with family. so you fed into that lie, and told them that come september you’d be out of their hair embarking on an adventure to further your development. it was hard - being dishonest to your parents, keeping up the facade - but you had no intention of telling them that you failed out of school. they would never be the wiser.

that was until you made the mistake of leaving your laptop open on your desk with your entire academic record on display. your mom was vacuuming, and decided to take a peek at the screen.

to say they were upset was an understatement.

it took a few days for them to hold an actual conversation with you, choosing to spare you the occasional glance and incoherent mumbling to show their disapproval at your poor academic performance.

one night at dinner you blew up.

“i don’t know why you’re making this such a big deal! yes, i failed university. so what?! does that make me a bad person??”

you didn’t expect them to say much, but when they didn’t say anything while staring at their half-eaten dinner plants your heart sank. sure, your family had always valued academic excellence, but you didn’t think it was this serious.

the void of silence is filled with the scraping sound of your chair sliding against the linoleum floor, announcing your departure from the table.

when you get to your room you slam the door, cry, then fall asleep on the floor.

you’re woken up a few hours later by the sounds of your parents getting ready to go to bed. there are hushed whispers outside of your door, and you hear your dad ask if he should check on you. seconds later, the hallway light turns off and you hear the door to your parent’s room close.

your hips and shoulders start to ache as you lay on your hardwood floor, but you find no motivation to pick yourself up. since you hadn’t closed your blind, your room had turned a shade of deep blue, courtesy of the moon. pushing yourself up into a seated position, your eyes scan the contents of your room, and you can’t help but reminisce.

the stuffed bear you refused to sleep without when you were 8, the wilted corsage you wore to prom, the laptop you wrote all of your university assignments on before dropping out - ouch, too soon.

a gust of wind passes through your open window and flutters the string of polaroids you have tacked up to your wall. one is of your old family cat. one is of you after you graduated high school. your favourite one is of soojin in front of a twilight sky, a half-empty cooler in her hand.

you had met soojin in 10th grade bio, when both of you were partnerless on frog dissection day and had to team up. the entire 75 minute period consisted of you doing all the work while soojin squealed in disgust.

after that you were practically attached at the hip.

the night before you moved to university you and soojin snuck onto the roof of your high school using your janitors janky old ladder. you sat on foldable lawn chairs and drank and laughed and cried while talking about your place in the world.

“sometimes i wish i was a cat,” you confessed, and soojin laughed.

“a cat? why?”

“life would be so simple. i’d sleep all day and get head scratches and food.”

“that’s fair.”

a siren wailed somewhere in the distance. the traffic lights in the intersection across from your school changed. a late summer breeze ruffled your hair.

“i’m gonna move to las vegas.”

you turned to look at soojin, and she looked back at you.

“when?”

“i don’t know… sometime in the near future,” she took a sip of her drink before she continued, “i’ve never been set on going to post-secondary so i might as well.”

you nodded, “why vegas though?”

“it’s a part of my fantasy.”

“what’s your fantasy?”

she shifts in her chair so she’s facing you, an enthusiastic glint now present in her eyes.

“i’m gonna move to vegas, spend some time working at some fancy upscale casino or bar or club or whatever. then, i’ll make a hot rich person fall in love with me, we’ll get married on the strip, and then i’ll never have to work a day in my life again!”

“i mean it sounds great,” you took a sip of your drink, “but aren’t most rich people in vegas like, middle aged men?”

“you got anything against dilfs?”

“touche.”

you weren’t surprised when a year or so later soojin told you she was making her fantasy become a reality - she had always been much more of a go-getter than you.

that didn’t make saying goodbye any easier though.

at the time you were still living away from home, so you couldn’t even give her a proper send-off. of course she facetimed you as soon as her plane landed, but you would’ve given anything to see her in person before she leaves for who knows how long.

and now, as you lie on the cold hardwood floor of your childhood bedroom, your eyes puffy and itchy from all of the tears you’ve shed, you devise a plan that will allow you to be with your best friend again.

“i’m moving out.”

your parents hardly bat an eye at your announcement.

“where are you going to go?” your dad questions, his eyes leaving his sudoku to look at you momentarily. the way he phrases his sentence makes it sound like he thinks you need your parents, that you have no one else to rely on.

“las vegas. to live with soojin.”

“vegas? but that city’s so… raunchy,” your mother has never been a fan of big cities, specifically ones known for dancing and gambling and drinking and flamboyance.

“well, that’s where i’m going and when i get there i’m gonna find an apartment and get a job. i don’t know when i’ll be back, my plane leaves in a couple of hours.”

there’s silence, an exchanged glance between the two of them, and then your dad mumbles “whatever makes you happy.”

assuming that this conversation is now over, you make your way upstairs to continue packing before your big move.

as much as you wanted to surprise soojin and show up unannounced, you're also somewhat relying on her to help you find a job and a place to stay - and she came through. it just so happened that the lucky cat - a popular upscale casino that soojin’s been working at for the past few years - is looking for a couple more floor staff to help with the hectic summer season.

in addition to that, there are tons of apartment vacancies since all of the university of nevada students have gone home for the summer - soojin said you can crash at her place until you sign a lease.

your extremely last minute plan to move thousands of miles away from home has somehow worked entirely in your favour. fingers crossed for no last minute curve balls!

you opt to leave the majority of your belongings behind; you don’t have much in terms of keepsakes anyway. one of your suitcases is filled with clothes, the other with personal items, and your backpack with all of your important possessions.

when the time on your clock reads 3:00 pm, you call for a taxi and make your way downstairs.

you give your parents stiff unnatural hugs before your taxi pulls up outside and you load all of your luggage into the trunk. your mom looks like she wants to say something but refrains. the cab driver pulls away, and you watch your childhood home along with your parents turn into mere specks in the distance.

airport security is a breeze - you just have to avoid all of the sloppy unorganised tourists who have no idea what they’re doing. by the time you board your flight it’s dusk, and you stare at the various shades of blues, pink and purples staining the sky as your plane streaks down the runway and lifts off.

for the majority of the flight you sleep, knowing that when you land you’ll go right to soojin’s place and she’ll likely want to give a grand tour of the strip. besides, who doesn’t want to explore on their first night in a new city?

the jolt of the plane touching the ground is what wakes you some time later. the view outside your window is dark, and the vegas airport slowly comes into sight as the airplane continues down the runway. you wait until the seatbelt sign is turned off before grabbing your carry-on bag and exiting the aircraft.

after claiming the rest of your luggage at the baggage carousel, you make your way outside and inhale your first breath of vegas air. it’s warm outside, and somewhat humid, but it makes you feel alive.

hailing a cab, you toss your belongings in the trunk and recite soojin’s apartment address from where you wrote it down in your phone to the driver. he puts the cab into drive, and you watch the harry reid airport get further and further away as you’re escorted into the city that you now call home.

through the window of the taxi you stare in awe at the dozens upon dozens of clubs, casino’s, bars and hotels lining the roads. every building and sign is lit up by thousands of lights in all colours of the rainbow, enticing visitors to enter and blow ungodly amounts of money in one night. the streets are teeming with eager party people dressed in sequins and suits who’s night’s are just beginning.

so this is how miley felt in party in the usa. she’s so real for that.

the drive isn’t long, just over 10 minutes, and your heart flips in your chest when your taxi comes to a halt outside of soojin’s apartment complex. you grab your belongings form the trunk before paying your driver and

while in the elevator you feel yourself getting more and more nervous with each passing second. will soojin act differently? will she look different? do you look different? sure the two of you facetime every other day, but nothing compares to seeing someone in person.

you're forced out of your thoughts when the elevator stops, letting you know that you’ve arrived at your designated floor. you lug your bags down the hallway and with a shaky hand you knock on soojin’s door. inside you hear erratic footsteps before the door in front of you swings open.

“AHHHHHH YOU BITCH YOU’RE HERE!!!!”

before you can say anything in response, all of the air is sucked out of your lungs as soojin captures you in a bone crushing hug, causing you to scream in excitement (and slight discomfort).

the two of you do a semi-awkward jump hug in soojin’s doorway and rejoice after not having seen each other in years. while lugging your suitcase into soojin’s living room you do your best to catch up with each other. she raves about her job and you bitch about your parents while you get settled.

“i hope you slept well on the plane, because our night is just about to start!” soojin shouts before disappearing into her bedroom, “now change into something slutty!”

once you’ve fixed your hair and makeup and change into an outfit deemed ‘vegas-worthy’ by soojin, she grabs you by the arm and drags you out of her apartment. “time for soojin’s unofficial tour of the strip!”

the sidewalks are even busier than they were when you were driven through here not too long ago, and you find yourself just narrowly escaping head-on collisions with other tourists and locals.

“ooh let’s go in here!” soojin’s nails dig into the pulse point on your wrist and you rush to keep up with her, flashing your i.d and paying an entry fee before being let into a two-story club with flashing purple and green strobe lights.

a drag queen in a bright orange wig is turning it out on the small wooden stage, but soojin drags you into the nearest bathroom before you can watch any more of her performance.

once the two of you are in a stall and the door is locked behind you, soojin whips out a small compact mirror and a baggie of powder from her purse. you hand her your i.d which she uses to make several thin white lines, and then digs through her purse to find a pre-rolled $1 bill - which she passes to you.

you try to ignore the slight sting in your nostril as you do your first line off of the small pocket mirror, and you pass the bill over to soojin. the walls and floor of the bathroom stall start to waver as the coke kicks in almost instantaneously, and you laugh because it looks like soojin’s eyeballs are melting out of their sockets. you do a few more lines before exiting the stall with soojin following behind you.

the two of you make your way onto the dance floor that’s sticky with spilled drinks and lose yourself to music by lady gaga, beyonce, rihanna, and britney. it feels like your limbs have turned to jelly and you can’t stop laughing and dancing with your best friend. at some point your nose starts bleeding which you only realise once it’s dripped down your lips and you can taste the metallic tang in your mouth.

you hop from bar to bar and club to club, and soojin tells you stories about each one of them. “this is the club where i lost my shoes, and this is the bar where i fell off a stool, and this is the club where…” it doesn’t stop.

once your coke-induced high starts to wane you turn to alcohol, sucking back one too many lemon drops than one should. at this point of the night your feet have several blisters and your hair is stuck to the nape of your neck with sweat, but you’re too intoxicated to care. it’s been so long since you’ve had fun, since you’ve felt so… carefree. it’s euphoric, to say the least.

when you and soojin finally decide to call it a night you step outside and take a deep inhale. compared to the hot and stuffy interior of clubs, even the polluted vegas air is a relief. in the east you see a tinge of yellow in the sky as the sun begins to welcome a new day, and you stumble your way back home.

it’s july, and you’ve officially been living in vegas for a month. the past few weeks have been hectic but fun, and you’d forgotten how much you missed being around soojin. you spent the first couple of days recovering from your night out by lounging on her couch, before deciding to get your shit together and meet with her boss at the lucky cat casino.

the interview was strangely simple, and entailed your soon-to-be boss scanning your resume before asking if you knew how to make any mixed drinks, to which you responded: “uh… i can make a vodka cran?”

you were hired on the spot (red flag, but whatever) and the next day soojin showed you the ropes. luckily it’s a relatively easy position, with a ton of other floor staff around to help you if you’re ever in a pinch.

after securing a job you sign a lease for a small studio apartment in a complex a couple minutes away from soojin’s; the rent isn’t ideal but it’s not horrible and with the leftover money you saved for uni as well as your cash flow from the casino you make it work.

throughout the entirety of the month you’ve spoken to your parent’s once. your mom called out of the blue, perhaps in an attempt to rekindle your mother-daughter relationship, but it didn’t go very well.

“so how’s california?”

“what?”

“cali? aren’t you in los angeles?”

“no mom, i’m in las vegas… you know, nevada.”

“oh… right.”

you hung up shortly after, and didn’t plan on calling back anytime soon. sure, maybe you were being dramatic, but so were they.

today you’re scheduled for your regular evening shift, but your boss asked you to come in early for a one on one meeting about your work performance. when you get there he’s leaning against a wall waiting for you, curling his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion to get you to to follow him into his office.

“so,” your boss starts, straddling a flimsy plastic chair so as to make it seem like this is a conversation between two friends and not a manager and his employee.

“you’ve officially been working here for a month, so we’re through your probation period,” he sighs deeply before continuing, “and your performance… has not been great.”

fuck fuck fuck!! this is it. you’re fired, done for! what are you going to do now? you can’t go home, will you be able to even find another job in vegas??

“y/n, i’m not firing you.”

oh. that’s good.

“you just need to be more appealing to customers to bring in more revenue.”

appealing? is he calling you unattractive? you furrow your brows in scepticism “okay… how should i do that?”

your boss takes a second, eyes you suspiciously, then asks: “do you want me to be blunt?”

you nod, so he continues.

“stop dressing like a prude. show some skin.”

“excuse me?”

“i hate to break it to you, but that’s what sells these days,” he grunts while getting up from his chair, a clear sign that this conversation is over.

“but-”

“don’t take it personally y/n. just loosen up a bit, okay?”

and with that he leaves, the large steel door swinging shut behind him. with every second you spend sitting alone in the messy, humid office of your manager your self-confidence gets smaller and smaller, like a balloon, until it’s all shrivelled up; seemingly non-existent. you go through the entirety of your shift with your head hung low.

it’s past midnight when you get back to your apartment that smells like paint and old chinese takeout. the advice - command? - that your boss gave to you bounces around in your brain like a ping pong ball.

you finger yourself in the shower before going to bed.

it’s an egg kind of morning.

some mornings are pancake or french toast or waffle mornings; when you’re feeling more lavish and want to indulge yourself. busy days are reserved for cereal or yogurt and granola, when you just need to fuel yourself and get out of the door.

egg days are in between days. you have enough time this morning to make a semi-decent breakfast, so you do. poached eggs - the kind where you put them on a piece of toast with some shredded cheese and then pop the yolks with the tip of your butterknife before watching the golden liquid pool on your plate.

you get half-way through the dish before you feel like puking, remembering why egg days aren’t common.

chucking the rest of your breakfast in the compost, you get ready for the day. the dry-erase calendar you have tacked onto the wall by your front door reminds you that you don’t have work until later this evening; so it’s settled.

today will be a day of reinvention.

there’s much to be done, so you pull on your fanciest casual outfit and head out.

the vegas strip is somewhat busy today - but then again when is it not. nighttime is when the city comes alive. clubs and casinos and theatre’s showcasing snuff films all open their doors for the mature population, providing them with enough alcohol to make their brains go fuzzy until they wake up having no clue what happened.

daytime is when the streets are packed with tourists and their obnoxious children darting between the mandalay bay aquarium, the discovery museum and the hershey’s store. which is why you try not to leave your apartment before the families on vacation retire to their hotels for the night. but today, you make an exception.

the sun beats down on your aching shoulders the second you step out of your apartment, and you mentally slap yourself when you remember that you forgot to put on sunscreen.

when you arrive at your first destination, an upscale salon that soojin recommended to you on your first night out, you bask in the AC before they call your name.

you splurge and get your eyebrows, legs and bikini line waxed. when your aesthetician is finished, you’re whisked away into a cushioned white chair in front of a white desk in a room with white walls and white floors. you get dark red acrylics, long enough to be sexy but not so long that they impact your ability to work. if your mom saw you right now she’d say you look like a hooker. once you’re finished at the salon, you head out to spend more money.

multiple shopping bags filled with skimpy thongs, lacy bras and sheer black pantyhose hang off of your arms as you make your way around the strip mall closest to your apartment. you vow to toss your old electric toothbrush before buying an actual vibrator, one that can give you much better orgasms. with each purchase your worry of your card being maxed out increases, so you decide to call it quits.

once your spa day has come to an end you head back to your shoebox apartment, picking up some tofu pad thai on the way. you binge watch peaky blinders while waiting until you need to leave for your shift, self-doubt coursing through your veins.

“you look different.”

spinning on your heel in the employees only room at work, you come face to face with soojin.

“good different or bad different?”

“good, definitely good. you look hot.”

“thanks,” your face heats up, “boss told me to loosen up to make more cash, so i’m glad it didn’t go unnoticed.”

she rolls her eyes, “it’s the unfortunate truth. here, this is my secret weapon.”

her hand slips into her mint green baguette purse, fishes around for a couple seconds, before pulling something out and placing it in your palm. it’s cold; metal.

“works like a charm~” she sing-songs before making her way back to the staff-only room to get ready for her shift.

in your palm you can feel something long and rectangular but with rounded edges; a tube of lipstick. chanel rouge allure #117 - or cuivre. red. sparkly. sexy.

in the employee’s only bathroom you stare at your reflection in the mirror before popping the top off of the tube of lipstick. it glides onto your lips with ease, and you stare at your reflection in the dimly lit bathroom. you look pretty. after ensuring that no lipstick made its way onto your teeth, you head out and start your shift.

the casino is decently busy tonight, so the first time you have a chance to talk to soojin again is when you both end up behind the bar at the same time.

“how are the tips tonight? i bet they’re just rolling in now that you look like a skank.”

you laugh while measuring out some white rum to add to a customer’s mojito, “i’m not complaining!”

soojin finishes straining her cosmopolitan before leaning into you, “do you want me to let you in on another one of my secrets?”

you nod. who doesn’t want tips on how to make more money?

“younger people always tip better. once someone’s above 40 it’s like a flip switches in their brain and they have some kind of entitlement that makes them less likely to tip. so, if a group of 20 or 30-something’s come in, snag ‘em.”

“i mean that makes sense,” you continue mixing drinks while you talk, “but practically every customer in here is a middle aged white man.”

“not everyone,” soojin says while pointing at a table to your left, where a frequent customer with a beer gut and a bald spot is sitting playing poker.

“... mr. creole? but he’s like 70..”

“what? no, not him!” soojin places a perfectly manicured finger on your jaw and slightly turns your head further to the left, your gaze landing on a baccarat table at the back of the room, “them.”

there, a group of 4 men in slacks and white dress shirts rolled up at the sleeves are huddled together while the dealer places chips and cards on the table. the one gambling is seated across from the dealer while the other 3 are huddled around him, clearing hyping him up to win big.

“you see the tallest one?” soojin practically whispers into your ear, “that’s heeseung. he doesn’t gamble too much, mostly he’s there for moral support.”

soojin’s right, he is tall. i mean they all are, but his body is like 70% leg. you watch as heeseung laughs at whatever one of his friends says before checking his watch, clearly not wanting to stay much longer.

“the one on his left is jake, and the one beside him is jay. they gamble sometimes, usually black jack or the slot machines, but i think they mostly come for the drinks - and the girls.”

jake and jay definitely seem the most excited to be there; they’re both leaning over their gambling friend’s shoulder whispering excitedly, undoubtedly telling him to go all in or whatever the proper term is - you still don’t know much about gambling.

“the guy in the middle is sunghoon,” your eyes fall upon the man in the centre of the group, “he’s like the best of the best.”

you watch as his ring clad fingers dart across the felted surface of the table, flipping cards and picking up chips as if it’s second nature to him. upon closer inspection you notice his features are quite leporine; sharp brows, poignant nose, nice white teeth that are revealed when he laughs at something his friend says.

“he plays anything and everything here,” soojin starts while staring at sunghoon like you are, “roulette, blackjack, three-card poker, but he’s the best at baccarat - specifically baccarat chemin de fer.”

your brain short circuits, “listen, i know jack shit about gambling, so none of that really means anything to me.”

soojin laughs at your bluntness, “basically he’s super rich and super lucky… and hot, but you don’t need to know anything about gambling to see that.”

sounds like your kind of man.

“how do you know so much about them?”

“i’m their usual server,” soojin starts, and then a mischievous look appears in her eyes, “do you wanna help me?”

“what, like right now?”

“i mean, yea.”

you stare at her blankly, “i don’t know i mean i’m still pretty new here and i don’t know what i’m doing and-”

“oh come on y/n you are a chronic overthinker, let’s go!” and with that she’s dragging you across the casino to where the 4 men are seated. soojin begins conversing with the table and you stand behind her awkwardly, palms sweaty and knees about to buckle. it’s not everyday that you’re surrounded by a group of 4 tall, rich, attractive guys. while soojin interacts with her usual customers, you cower behind her like a scared child, waiting for her to loop you into the conversation.

“and this,” she grabs you by your elbow and pulls you forward, “is y/n, my best friend and coworker.” you wave awkwardly, and they all wave back.

it’s times like this when you’re reminded that soojin’s a natural at her job, whereas you on the other hand are not. she immediately begins to converse with her regulars, leaving you standing off to the side before you make awkward eye contact with sunghoon. you realise that now would be a good time to actually do your job.

“uh, is there anything i can get you to drink?”

“sure!” he smiles at you, and he really does have a nice smile, “can i get a m-”

you know those cheesy movie scenes where the protagonist finally meets the love of their life and suddenly everything around them is tinted pink and moving in slo-mo? this feels exactly like that. you try to listen to what sunghoon is saying but all you can focus on is his icy blond hair, his perfect skin, his deep brown eyes (that you notice darting to your lips on more than one occasion - thank you soojin!)

you force yourself to tune back in to real time when you realise he’s stopped talking, and then mentally slap yourself because you just missed his entire order spare for the first letter being ‘m’.

too stubborn to say something, you just nod with a smile and head back towards the bar while racking your brain for every single cocktail starting with the letter m. a milk & honey seems too niche, a moscow mule too intense, and a mai tai too fruity. so you settle on a well-known ‘m’ cocktail: margarita. a classic! who doesn’t love margarita’s? (hopefully not sunghoon).

you get to business salting the rim of your glass and mixing the tequila and lime juice while making sure that this is the prettiest fucking margarita you’ve ever made. when you’re finished, you take a deep breath and head back over to the baccarat table where soojin is still talking to jay, jake and heeseung.

beside them, sunghoon is waiting patiently for his drink, and you place it in front of him on the velvet tabletop.

“oh, uh…” he stares at the drink you hand him with confusion. fuck, his ‘m’ cocktail wasn’t a margarita.

panic begins to kick in, and you contemplate pulling the ‘i’m new here’ card, “sorry, is that not what you ordered?”

“no, it was a martini… you know, like james bond?”

of course it was a fucking martini you dipshit! literally the drink of choice for all men who like to fantasise that they’re a world famous spy.

sunghoon probably notices you panicking, “but it’s ok! i like margaritas too.”

“no, let me get you what you actually ordered!”

“no really it’s fine-” sunghoon starts, but you’ve already began to weave through the other tables. when your out of view of any customers you actually slap yourself. you just embarrassed yourself in front of the hottest guy in the whole casino! great, your life is over.

you try to ignoring the heat rushing to your face while straining sunghoon’s martini and then head back to that baccarat table for the third time in the past 5 minutes, apologising profusely while handing the man in question his actual order. he smiles before handing you a $20, which you slip into your work apron.

“should i give this back to you then?” he holds up the margarita you made, beads of condensation already rolling down the side of the glass.

“keep it, it’s on the house.” you smile, and leave the table for good.

“that’s it, i have to quit now.” you whine to soojin once you’re both behind the bar again.

“what happened? i thought it went well.” soojin questions while shaking a long island iced tea.

“i messed up his fucking order dude. i embarrassed myself!” you hide your head in your hands and huff in frustration.

“come on y/n that’s not the end of the world! and sunghoon’s a nice guy, i’m sure he understands that you were just so enthralled with his beauty you couldn’t focus on what he was saying.”

you sock her in the shoulder, and then cringe because that’s exactly what happened. and when your shift ends at the early hours of the morning, sunghoon is all you’re thinking about.

apparently you’d been on sunghoon’s mind too, because the second you get to work the next day soojin is excitedly dragging you back into the employees only room. there, a gorgeous bouquet made of peruvian lilies, delphinium, and baby’s breath is sitting on the table, a thick, off-white card tied to the stems. it reads:

y/n,

will you let me see you again?

3600 S Las Vegas Blvd, 11:00 pm.

i’ll have someone pick you up.

p.sh

“signed p.sh? who’s that?”

“that’s sunghoon you numbskull! he’s asking you out on a date!”

you bend down to smell the bouquet made for you, “it’s not a date soojin, he just wants to see me.”

“yea, and he clearly has romantic intentions, hence the flowers!” she dramatically motions to the bouquet, “in my books that qualifies as a date, but to each their own.”

throughout your shift your nerves are piqued; you try to chalk it up to the humidity or the fact that you accidentally spilled a rum and coke on a well-paying customer, but in the back of your brain you know it's because of sunghoon.

when the time comes for your shift to be over you rush to the bathroom to attempt to spruce yourself up after having worked for almost 8 hours. you finger-comb your hair and swipe on some deodorant before applying a fresh coat of the lipstick soojin gave you - since sunghoon kept staring at your lips last night surely he’d appreciate you wearing it again.

stepping out of the lucky cat, you try not to audibly gasp as the stunning white rolls royce ghost that’s waiting for you at the curb, hazards blinking. so sunghoon’s rich rich, got it. suddenly your attire feels extremely lacklustre.

“y/n?” a bearded man with big hands calls out to you from the driver's seat.

“that’s me.” you slide into one of the smooth leather seats, close the door behind you, and hope that you’re not being driven to your doom.

“you’re late,” he jokes, “4 minutes to be exact.”

sunghoon’s standing on the sidewalk right where his driver drops you off. he’s dressed similarly to how he was when you saw him last night, slacks and a button up even though it’s the middle of the summer.

“don’t blame me, blame your driver.”

he smirks and raises an eyebrow as if to say touche, and he sticks his elbow out for you to loop your arm through - so you do. the two of you walk in tandem and you scan your surroundings to try to figure out where sunghoon’s brought you. a vast pool of water catches your eye not too far away from you and something clicks in your brain - the bellagio, of course! only now the water’s at a standstill since the magnificent fountain only goes off every fifteen minutes.

“do you bring all of the girls you meet here?”

“what, to the bellagio? no way, only the real special ones.”

“what makes me so special then?”

“i don’t know, you seem… charismatic? and you’re funny, i like that.”

“funny because i messed up your drink order?”

“i mean, kinda! it just makes you seem more… human.” he shrugs while shoving his hands in his pockets. “don’t tell soojin i said that though.”

you laugh, and then bring a finger up to your lips in a shushing motion.

“so,” sunghoon stops walking so the two of you are standing on the sidewalk with a perfect view of the bellagio, “how long have you been in vegas?”

you do quick math in your head, “just over a month. i moved here after i… flunked university.”

“oh, that’s rough” he grimaces before smiling coyly, “your turn.”

“my turn? for what?”

“ask me a question.”

“okay, uhhh,” is asking where he gets all of his money from rude? possibly, so you ask him: “how do you gamble?”

sunghoon looks at you with confusion, before chuckling softly. that was definitely a dumb question. “what do you mean?”

“like the card games and stuff! i don’t get it.”

“but you work at a casino.”

“i make drinks at a casino, i don’t have anything to do with the games.”

he raises his hands in defence. “well, all of the card games are different, but my favourite is probably baccarat - black jack is fun too, though. anyways, the main goal of baccarat is to get as close to nine as possible. you start by betting chips on either the player or the banker, and then the dealer draws two cards for both of them. the cards are flipped over and whoever’s closer to nine wins, but you don’t want to go over a score of nine. you can also bet on a tie, a banker pair, and a player pair… are you following me?”

“nuh uh.”

he gives up trying to explain, “basically you throw some cards and chips on a table and win money.”

the two of you sit in silence for a moment, with sunghoon staring at the water in front of him - likely thinking of a question to ask you since he’s the one who started this little game.

“do you have any wishes?”

confusion evident on your face, your turn to look at him.

“because if you do, this would be the place to make one.” he gestures to the bellagio,

it’s then that he reaches into his pocket and pulls out 2 silver coins - nickels. he keeps one for himself, then places the other in the palm of your hand.

you watch as he turns to face the fountain, his side profile lit up by the warm glow from the white lights in the water. his eyes close and his brows furrow for just a moment, and then he tosses his coin into the fountain.

“what did you wish for?”

“if i tell you it won’t come true.” he stares at you, his eyes catching the glow from the lights of the nearby hotel. “your turn,” he repeats for the second time tonight.

you follow in his footsteps, closing your eyes while making a wish and tossing your coin into the fountain. when you open your eyes, you swear sunghoon’s closer to you than he was before.

before you can come up with a witty response, a dramatic whoosh! sounds and you look beside you to see that the water show has begun. an amazing display of lights and aquatics plays out before your eyes as the fountains erupt in synchronisation, creating a dazzling and unforgettable display.

“pretty.”

you’re about to agree, only until you realise that sunghoon’s focus is on you, not the fountain. his eyes are glossy and he smells of bergamot and sage, and you finally get to live in that rom-com moment when he leans in and presses his lips against yours.

his lips are plump but slightly chapped, and you struggle to keep your balance with the way he’s leaning into you. after several moments he pulls away and you almost chase after his lips, that is until you hear the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from other spectators, reminding you that you are in fact in public and the people surrounding you probably don’t want to see you and sunghoon devouring each other.

a sour expression makes its way onto sunghoons face, and he grabs your hand before nodding in the direction that you came from - a clear indication that he wants to get out of here.

the two of you find his car in idle on a semi-busy side street and you both slip into the back; initially you had planned on leaving the middle seat empty to separate the two of you, but sunghoon wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you beside him. you tell sunghoon’s chauffeur your address, and he nods before rolling up the partition to give the two of you some privacy and taking off down the busy road of the strip.

“you know you made my wish come true back there.”

“what, when i asked you to teach me the art of gambling?”

he bites his lower lip to abstain from laughing before teasingly pushing your shoulder, “you know what i mean.”

“was it when i did this?” in a bold move (for you), you grasp his jaw with your acrylic nails and kiss him with much more lust and passion than you did in front of the bellagio. his hand instantaneously moves up to cup the side of your face, and you manage to pull a quiet moan from him at the suddenness of your actions.

his teeth nip at your bottom lip gently and your mouths move in tandem with each other, both of you acting as if the other is your only source of oxygen that you can’t pull away from. you slip your tongue past his teeth and lips and into his mouth, where you can slightly taste the spearmint gum he spit out before the two of you got back into his car. a desperate whine escapes your throat when he pulls away from you.

“open your mouth,” you comply, “good girl.”

in one swift motion he spits into your open mouth, and you feel his saliva glide down your tongue to the back of your throat. you close your mouth and swallow. sunghoon keeps his grip on your jaw, allowing his thumb to caress your cheek before swiping it across your bottom lip in a silent plea to let him in. you take his thumb in your mouth, his eyes trained on the way your puffy lips are wrapped around his digit. a string of saliva connects his thumb to your lips when he pulls his hand away, and in the dim lighting you catch a glimpse of your sparkly red lipstick smeared across his knuckle.

when you stop at a red light his hand wraps around the back of your neck and he kisses you again; in your head you thank whatever higher power there is above that the car’s windows are tinted, so no curious outsider could peek in and see what the two of you are up to.

deciding to test the waters, you sneak your hand down his torso to the waistline of sunghoon’s pants, hesitating slightly before reaching out to palm his crotch through his clothes. the action causes his hips to jerk slightly, and he places his own clammy hand on top of yours to guide you as you massage his cock through his slacks.

a metallic clink! reverberates off of the inside of the car as you unbuckle your seatbelt and somewhat sprawl your upper body across sunghoon’s lap; your hands gripping this thighs to stabilise yourself with your face only mere centimetres away from his clothed erection. noticing that you’re in a bit of an awkward position, sunghoon takes the initiative to unbutton his pants, inch them down just a little, and pull his cock out.

lengthwise he’s definitely above average, and his tip is flushed red and leaking beads of precum already. he sticks his palm out and you spit in it, watching like a hawk as he uses your saliva as lube to pump himself a few times before sitting back and letting you steal the show.

you playfully lick his tip, as if to taunt him that you could do more, but you don’t really feel like it. his thighs twitch underneath your hands, so you finally relent and wrap your lips around sunghoon’s cock, feeling him squirm in pleasure above you.

with one hand he’s gripping the door handle, his hold so tight that his knuckles have turned a ghastly shade of white. with the other he’s gripping the back of your neck, clearly trying to refrain from shoving your head to the base of his dick - so you do it yourself, and take his entire length into your mouth.

the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t help but gag, and sunghoon hisses when you dig your nails into his pant clad thigh.

“keep it down,” he groans, “unless you want my chauffeur to hear you gagging on my cock.”

an involuntary whine escapes you, and your hips shift in your seat. you can hear the smugness in his voice when he says: “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you continue to deepthroat him in the back of his car, trying not to gag or cough too loudly when the vehicle goes over a pothole or a bump in the road and his cock is shoved deeper than you’re expecting. each and every time his tip bumps the back of your throat you swallow around him, trying to suck back the mix of spit and precum that threatens to spill past your lips.

“fuck y/n,” a dull thud sounds as sunghoon lolls his head against the headrest behind him, “feels so fucking good.” the hand on the back of your neck starts to help guide your ministrations, and his hips start to buck up ever so lightly into your mouth.

you can tell sunghoon’s close to finishing by the way his moans get louder and more desperate, and you’re tempted to pull your mouth off of his cock and call him out for being a hypocrite for telling you to be quiet not too long ago. nevertheless, you persevere and continue to suck him off, allowing him to roll his hips up into your face.

at this point your hips and legs are cramping up and your jaw is aching from having been open for so long, so you let sunghoon take complete control and allow him to fuck your mouth until he cums, which is only a few moments later.

he finishes with a guttural groan before spilling his seed down your bruised throat; you try not to grimace at the taste before swallowing obediently. pulling yourself off of his cock, you use your thumb to wipe the spit and semen off of the corners of your mouth, and you sit back and watch sunghoon tuck himself back into his pants while trying to catch his breath.

the car shakes slightly as sunghoon’s driver accidentally bumps into the curb, and when you look outside the tinted car window you find that you’ve arrived at your apartment building. perfect timing.

being the gentleman that he is, sunghoon offers to walk you to your door - and who are you to say no. although you find a feeling of self-consciousness creeping up on you, what with your apartment being so drab in comparison to just about every aspect of sunghoon’s life. you try to push those negative thoughts away as you step out of the elevator and unlock your apartment door.

“i like it!” sunghoon preaches as he stands in your entryway, looking around as you toss your keys onto the kitchen counter. you give him a sarcastic side-eye. “i’m serious! it’s… cozy.”

you make your way over to where he’s standing, and he smirks as you press your chest against his, one of his arms snakes around your waist. your tummy flutters as he presses one, two, three chaste kisses to your pouted lips.

“goodnight, sunghoon.”

you move to close the door, but he suddenly objects and sticks his arm out to block your actions.

“wait! y/n i’d uh… i’d really like to see you again. maybe tomorrow night, i-if that’s ok with you of course?”

it’s in this moment that you can finally see this rich playboy facade start to crack. it prides you to see that the man whose dick you just sucked in the back of a car minutes ago has been reduced to a flustered stuttering mess because of you. cute.

“i think i can make that work.”

“ok! that’s great, i’ll send someone to come pick you up maybe around, uhh 8:00 pm? is that ok?”

you nod, “it’s a date.”

his eyes widen at this, and before he has time to respond you close your front door.

ding dong!

what the fuck? who on earth is at your door this early in the morning? ugh, it’s probably the delivery guy. if you ignore him then he’ll just drop off your package and fuck off.

ding dong ding dong ding dong!!!!

you sigh in frustration and pull yourself out of bed seeing as whoever’s at your door doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. opening your door just a crack, you see soojin standing there with a plastic bag in her hand.

“i brought waffles!” she announces before inviting herself into your apartment and sitting at the island in your kitchen. she opens up the plastic bag she brought and pulls out two take out containers of waffles, two drinks, and lots of syrup and butter. “come, sit. eat.”

grabbing cutlery from the drawer in your kitchen, you nonchalantly rub the sleep out of your eyes while making your way over to her, “why are you here so early?”

“dude, it’s noon,” she shoots you a judgemental glare, “and i’m here because i want to know all about your little date last night!”

“i would hardly call it a date,” your mouth is stuffed with waffle so your words come out choked. you know that if you tell soojin what actually happened with sunghoon last night, she's going to make it a way bigger deal than it is.

“you’re lying to me.”

“what? no i’m not.”

“yes you are y/n. i’ve known you for years and can instantly recognize the way you scrunch your nose and refuse to make eye contact when you’re lying to me.”

shit. she’s got you there.

“ok fine! he took me to the bellagio, we kissed and then,” you huff and roll your eyes, “isuckedhisdickinthebackofhiscar…”

“YOU WHAT??!! oh my god y/n this is crazy!! i can’t believe you’re getting it on with a hot rich guy!”

“we are not getting it on, he just likes me,” you stare at your waffles, “and he invited me to his place for dinner tonight.”

soojin chokes on her drink, “what the fuck!!?? why didn’t you tell me! we need to go pick out what you’re going to wear.” and with that she practically jumps up from where he’s sitting and heads into your bedroom. when you hear drawers being flung open and hangers clattering to the floor you decide to do damage control and head into your bedroom before soojin destroys it.

some time later, the two of you settle on a basic black satin slip dress and knee high go-go boots.

“come on, let's do your makeup.” soojin excitedly starts to scan your vanity.

“dude it’s literally one in the afternoon, he’s not picking me up until eight.”

she looks defeated at first, but then turns to you with a smile, “cillian murphy movie marathon while we pass the time?”, and who are you to say no to that.

it’s around 6:30 pm when red lights finishes, and you decide you should start getting ready. in the shower you do the works - shaving, exfoliating, washing, scrubbing - and when you step out it feels like you have a whole new layer of squeaky clean skin. soojin pampers you and does your hair and makeup, opting for a subtle yet sexy look.

at 2 minutes to 8:00 pm, you slip on your boots and ask soojin to give you a once-over to make sure everything looks good (it does).

“i’ll be here mooching off of your crave subscription and raiding your fridge. now shoo!” your friend practically kicks you out of your own apartment. when you're halfway down the hallway to the elevator you hear soojin shout: “and if you don’t spend the night there getting railed i’m going to be very disappointed in you!”

the familiar rolls royce ghost is waiting for once again when you exit your apartment. sunghoon’s chauffeur, who you find out is named anthony, asks you what music you’d like to listen to on the drive. you ask for lay all your love on me by ABBA, and slouch in your seat as anthony takes off down the street that’s beginning to light up for the evening crowd.

upon your arrival at sunghoon’s place you see him waiting on the street for you. he’s dressed in a suit and tie, and although he looks phenomenal you’re practically dying to see him in some casual clothes.

“don’t give me shit about being late this time, park.” you taunt as you step out of his car, and anthony drives off.

“i wasn’t going to! in fact, i told anthony to take his sweet time since he’d be carrying precious cargo.” he pecks your cheek, and you feel heat rush to your ears and the apples of your cheeks.

you step into an elevator that’s the size of your living room, with glass floors, gold buttons and a chandelier. sunghoon reaches a slender finger out and presses the button for the top floor, because of course he lives in a fucking penthouse.

when the golden doors slide open, you're met with a narrow entryway which sunghoon leads you down before opening his front door. “welcome to the park penthouse!”

glamorous is an understatement when it comes to sunghoon’s living quarters. the ceilings are high and the floors are made of marble that’s so bright it kind of hurts your eyes to look at it directly. you’re not given much time to take it all in before sunghoon’s ushering you into what you can only assume is the living room. three leather couches make a semi-circle around a glass coffee table, all facing a large cobblestone fireplace and massive flatscreen tv. bookshelves stretch to the ceiling on either side of the fireplace, and in the far corner of the room you see a small silver safe, about the size of a microwave, embedded into the wall.

“i didn’t think rich people actually had safe’s in their walls,” you walk over to it, “i thought it was just a thing in movies.” sunghoon laughs at your statement before grasping the metal handle of the safe. he makes no effort to hide the pinpad, so you watch him type in the code and open the hefty metal door. the inside is quite literally something out of a spy movie; it’s filled bricks of cash stacked on top of eachother bound with elastic.

“woah,” you somewhat whisper, “how much is in there?”

sunghoon ponders your question, “couple hundred thousand. it’s my emergency stash. you know, in case i get into a really bad car accident, or - god forbid - lose a real big bet while gambling.”

just looking at the amount of cash is insane to you, and your brain hurts as you think of what you could spend all of that money on. luckily, sunghoon shuts the door, and you hear the lock click. “come on, i have more to show you.”

a long oak table is placed in the centre of the room, decorated with vases filled with flowers and gold candlesticks that hold tall dark red candles. only two spots at the table are set, each having a large silver platter at the centre with a fork and knife one either side. a crystal wine glass is also set to the right-hand side of both seats, filled half-way with dark red cabernet sauvignon.

“i didn’t know you could cook.” you turn to look at sunghoon, whose eyes widen. “oh, i didn’t make anything. i had jay come over to do it all - he’s a really good cook, you know.”

“i guess i’m about to find out.” you pull out one of the chairs at the dining table and sit down, a look of shame briefly flashing across sunghoon’s face as he realises that was his job. nevertheless, he shakes off his nerves and takes the seat across from you. the two of you simultaneously take the silver lid off

“i was gonna do something fancier like steak,” he scratches the back of his neck, “but i didn’t know if you were a vegetarian… or something.”

you assure him that it’s fine and that pasta is always your go-to, which seems to ease his nerves. it turns out that sunghoon was right and jay actually is a phenomenal chef; too bad he isn’t here for you to praise him in person. while you shovel pasta into your mouth sunghoon sips his wine and continues to act jittery. you decide it would be best to start up some playful banter since he seemed so comfortable doing that last night.

“i’m sorry, is it like, rude for me to ask where you get all of your money from?” you trace the stem of your wine glass with your finger before picking it up, “it’s just that you’re still fairly young, you know.”

he laughs with his mouth full, swallowing his food before responding, “well, my parents are both doctors who would send me money all the time when i first moved out,” he tentatively picks up his fork, “but then we grew apart so i used what i had from them to start gambling.” he goes to eat but then stops as he remembers something, “i also work at a law firm, but it doesn’t pay nearly as well as what i make from gambling at the lucky cat.”

you nod while dragging your fork through the sauce on your plate. a somewhat eerie silence settles over the two of you, and you’re tempted to say ‘your turn’ to get him to ask you a question like he did to you last night.

“hey, i just wanted to say thanks for last night.” his voice is quiet, and suddenly his half-eaten pasta is more interesting than you, his date, are.

is he talking about…?

“uh, what part of last night are you thanking me for?” you think you know the answer, but you like seeing him squirm a little.

“come on y/n, don’t make me say it.” he groans and lets his fork clatter against his plate, causing you to laugh.

“i won’t! just teasing.” that same silence falls over the pair of you, but when you peer at sunghoon you can tell he wants to say something else.

“i’d uh,” he chuckles, “i’d like to return the favour, if that’s ok with you.”

oh. oh.

you try to hide the way you shift in your seat and swallow the nervous lump in your throat; sunghoon’s gaze on you is unwavering.

“right now?”

his pupils seem to darken and dilate at your question - although both of you seem to be in agreeance that it wasn’t a question, and moreso a confirmation. the two of you seem to shove your dishes to the side at the same time, sending silverware clattering to the floor as you crawl across the table and mash your lips against sunghoon’s.

right off the bat this kiss is more desperate and lustful than all of the previous ones you’ve shared. you shift so your sitting with your thighs hanging off of the table, opening your legs briefly to let sunghoon step between them before wrapping them around his waist.

you kiss and bite at his wine-stained lips that taste so tart but so addictive. your hips are flush against his and you can feel that he’s already semi-hard through his pants - no wonder he was so flustered during dinner.

the cool air of sunghoon’s apartment chills you when he lifts your slip dress up and over your shoulders in one swift motion before tossing it to the floor. noticing the goosebumps erupt on your skin, sunghoon nudges your shoulder to get you to lay back against the table. he reaches to his left and grabs a candlestick.

“let me warm you up.”

you watch the muscles and tendons in his wrist flex as he tips the candle ever so slightly, allowing splotches of the dark red wax to drip onto your chest. the hot paraffin stings and burns but also makes you feel warm and excited and so good. sunghoon keeps the candle pointed at your body, making sure the open flame is a safe distance away from your skin. he moves his hand lower, and you jolt slightly when you feel the hot wax make contact with the sensitive skin between your tits.

warmth spreads across your skin as you feel sunghoon make a trail of wax down your stomach, to your belly button, and then stopping at the elastic waistband of your panties. as the wax dries it hardens, tightening your skin underneath it. the initial sting of the heat is gone, in its place a dull burning sensation that has your pulse quickening.

your vision clouds when sunghoon touches you for the first time, using his middle and ring fingers to massage your cunt through your ruined underwear.

“fuck, you’re already so wet for me. i bet these panties were soaked before you even got here, huh?”

before you can say anything you feel a tug and your hips and hear the ripping of fabric; when you look down, you see sunghoon tossing your now torn thong to the floor. bummer, that was a cute one.

heat rushes to your face as you watch sunghoon scan your nearly naked figure, his eyes feasting on the vast expanse of your bare skin as if you’re the full-course meal he wants for dinner (sorry chef jay).

he places his searing hot palms on your knees and pries your legs open to expose your dripping wet cunt. you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, too worried that if you glance at him while he’s staring at your pussy you’ll become too flustered. the undeniable swish of a jacket being removed can be heard, and when you spare a glance at sunghoon he’s rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt before diving in between your legs.

he doesn’t hesitate a second before diving into you, and you gasp and whine as you feel his tongue exploring your most private area. just the sound of him licking your pussy has your head spiralling, your nails scratching at the varnished countertop of sunghoon’s dining table before you move your hands to grasp at his hair.

your thighs start to burn as you open your legs as wide as you can, giving sunghoon the utmost access to your body. he uses his tongue to toy with your clit before he wraps his lips around it and sucks, shooting bolts of pleasure to every nerve in you.

when he slips his tongue into your hole you hiss and roll your hips into his face. sunghoon groans against you and continues to lick up your essence as if you’re a dripping popsicle on a hot summer day.

through pants and whines you manage to ask him: “do i taste good?”

“fuck, so good honey. the sweetest thing i’ve ever had.”

you scratch at his scalp and tangle your fingers in his hair as he greedily makes out with your sopping cunt, the wet sucking sounds echoing off of the walls of his vast dining room. he directs his focus back to your clit, causing your back to arch and your chest to heave; with every move you make you can feel the dried wax crack and pull at your skin.

it feels like your skin is burning up as your orgasm approaches, the familiar inferno starting in the very pit of your stomach before spreading across your body like wildfire.

“fuck hoonie!” your cries only seem to spur sunghoon on, and you're so so so close to cumming - before the fire in between your legs is doused when he pulls away.

it feels like you’re the victim of some sick prank, waiting for the camera crew to jump out and scream ‘gotcha!’ while laughing at you lying on sunghoon’s dining table in desperation.

“w-what?” you catch sunghoon’s gaze as he fully stands up, his lips swollen and red and wet. he doesn’t respond, just grabs you by the waist before picking you up bridal style and carrying you further into his penthouse.

your first look at his bedroom is a blur since right after you enter sunghoon tosses you onto his bed. the sheets and pillowcases are navy silk, and it must be king-sized since it’s about triple the size of your twin bed at home.

for a moment you think he’s going to pick up where he left off and dive back into your cunt, but instead he captures your lips in a tender yet searing kiss. you don’t know how to feel about tasting yourself on his lips and tongue; it’s sensual and arousing, but also makes you feel bashful.

you realise you’re only wearing your go-go boots and your bra - a weird combo, but soon both of them are discarded onto the floor of sunghoon’s bedroom.

the man in question towers above your now completely bare form as you lay sprawled out on the cool sheets of his bed. “you look,” he reaches a veiny hand up to loosen his tie, “so delicious right now.”

that does a number on you.

with little regard to benignity you pop the buttons on sunghoon’s dress shirt open one by one, and then try not to drool as he reveals his bare chest to you for the first time ever. his skin is smooth from his shoulders all the way down to his v-line, and you finally get to see that he has thick biceps (!!!!!).

in one hand he’s still gripping his tie, and you feel impossibly turned on as he crawls on top of you, the box frame creaking slightly under the weight from the two of you. sitting back on his knees, he gives you the same command as yesterday: “open your mouth.” and you do, again.

he places the taught fabric of his tie in your mouth, and you bite down. your face is shoved into the crook of his neck as he leans forward and ties the two ends in a tight knot at the back of your head, creating a gag. leaning back onto his knees once more, he takes a second to admire his masterpiece - you.

“is this,” he takes a second to regain his composure, “is this ok?”

you nod and try to say yes as best as you can, but it comes out as a warbled ‘mah’ due to the makeshift gag restricting your ability to speak as you normally do.

“good. just uh, tap my arm three times if you want me to stop, ok?” you make the same muffled noise in agreement, rubbing your thighs together for some much needed relief as his hands work to unbutton his pants and yank them, along with his boxers, to the floor.

in the dim lighting provided by the lamp on sunghoon’s bedside allows you to appreciate every dip and imperfection of his body, along with the way the veins in his forearms pop out as he reaches into his bedside table to grab a small foil packet.

using his teeth, sunghoon rips open the condom before sliding it onto himself and giving his length a few pumps. his eyes meet yours for a brief second as he positions himself on top of you, the tip of his cock nudging your clit ever so slightly and sending a jolt of pleasure through your veins.

his cock easily slips into your already-sensitive cunt and you bite down on the tie in your mouth as you and sunghoon moan in tandem, the fabric already becoming wet with your saliva. he sinks his teeth into your neck and you can feel his pointed canines pinch your sensitive skin - maybe he’s a cullen.

for a moment he just rests there, no doubt regaining his composure so he can fuck you into his mattress. lucky for him, you’re still sensitive after your last orgasm was ripped away from you, so it shouldn’t even take that much effort to make you cum.

it feels like the world is moving in slow motion when sunghoon finally pulls his hips away from you, just enough so the tip of his cock is still inside your cunt, before pushing himself all the way back in. your hands explore the vast expanse of his toned back, feeling the muscles move and flex as he slowly picks up his pace.

soon his hips are thrusting into yours in a quick but deep motion, his movements so languid and precise your pussy is already slick and throbbing. your clit is begging for attention, and you almost cry when sunghoon eagles his hips just right so his pelvis rubs against it with each grind. the tie gag in your mouth rubs at the corners of your lips and you attempt to whine sunghoon’s name, tell him that you need more.

he throws his head back in ecstasy before burying his face in between your tits, licking at biting at the skin he marked with hot wax not too long ago. “your cunt is just milking my cock, sweetheart. so fucking tight.”

the cavity between your bodies becomes slick with sweat, and the sound of skin slapping against skin is much more prevalent when sunghoon picks up the pace of his thrusts once again. your legs are aching and you yelp as sunghoon grips the flesh of your thigh like it’s a slab of meat. his back is covered in long scratches courtesy of your acrylics and you’re sure your chest is littered with splotchy red marks from his teeth.

the fire deep inside of you is ignited once again, and you try your best to roll your hips upward in time with sunghoon’s movements as you chase your impending orgasm. sunghoon’s moans are equivalent to the pitch they were at when he was about to cum down your throat in the back of his car, only now they’re much louder and guttural without the fear of being caught in the act getting in the way.

when your orgasm finally starts to wash over you it feels like you're suspended in mid-air, waiting for someone to reel you in, to bring you back to reality. a feeling that can only be described as sweet, sweet relief floods your senses, leaving you a whimpering, twitching mess. sunghoon groans loudly on top of you and you feel him fill up the condom inside of you, his head hanging forward to rest in the crook of your neck once again. two hot sticky tears spill from your eyes, and you barely register the now soggy tie being removed from your mouth.

your vision is blurry and your ears are ringing and when the warmth of sunghoon’s body disappears you want to cry out for him to come back. luckily he does, and you feel his presence beside you and you try to blink away your tears.

the ceiling slowly starts to come back into focus, and you can feel sunghoon leisurely picking off the dried up bits of blood red wax that are still stuck to your skin.

you hear sunghoon ask you something, and you pull yourself out of your post-sex haze to listen to him. “hmm?”

“i said do you want to just… spend the night?”

you act as if you’re rolling the idea around in your head for a minute, but you already know the answer.

“i mean soojin told me she’ll be disappointed if i come home tonight, so i guess so.”

arm candy.

your new delta-kind nickname, courtesy of soojin. bestowed upon you when you and sunghoon walked into the lucky cat hand in hand so you could drop off your letter of resignation. soojin screamed so loud the whole strip probably heard her.

“you’re like his trophy wife.”

“we’re not even married?”

after spending the night at sunghoon’s penthouse you never really left. it became a gradual process of moving all of your stuff from your apartment into his, solidified by the termination of your lease - which the two of you celebrated by popping champagne and fucking on his balcony.

after some time the two of you fell into a sort of routine; he’d spend the day working at his law firm and you’d use his black amex card to go shopping - eventually he just made you a shareholder of his bank account.

inspired by your newfound relationship with sunghoon, soojin worked up the courage to make a move on jay, who admitted that he had felt a connection since he first laid eyes on her (cute). the four of you spend nights out on the strip getting drunk and making bad decisions, acting like the city is your playground.

you wear skirts more and more and panties less and less, a decision that has led to you getting tongue-fucked by sunghoon in the bathroom of the lucky cat’s VIP longue on more than one occasion. he spoils you with jewellry from tiffany’s and vivienne westwood and with bags from coach and hermes; it’s likely that there isn’t a square foot in sunghoon’s penthouse where the two of you haven’t had sex.

you take tabs of acid off of his fingertips in the backs of limousines and town cars before hopping from club to club, allowing your brain to turn into a puddle of mush for a few hours to free you from your worries and woes (not that you have many).

sunghoon’s winning streak at the lucky cat keeps him rich to the point where he’s contemplating quitting his job at the law firm (he hasn’t yet, but it’s hot on his mind). you like to watch him and his friends gamble, and you’ve even started to understand how the games work - except for pai gow poker, that one still confuses you. ever since you and soojin have started coming to the lucky cat as customers instead of barista’s, you get a barrage of dirty looks from your past coworkers.

“they’re just jealous,” sunghoon told you before checking his cards during a game of baccarat, “jealous that you’re living the american dream!”

and then he lost.

you had decided to spend the night at home to recover from drinking one too many mimosas at brunch, and sunghoon went out to the lucky cat with jay, soojin, jake and heeseung. the night started off normal at first, with jay and jake playing a couple rounds each on the slot machines before everyone gathered around to watch sunghoon play a round of craps. it was jake who told him to bet bigger than he ever has before - he’s always won, why would this game be any different?

“it’s bad y/n,” soojin tells you through the phone, “like hundreds of thousands of dollars kind of bad. it’s gonna take him a while to come back from this - both his ego and his bank account.”

when sunghoon got home you didn’t really know what to do. it felt as if there was a ghost hanging around your apartment; his eyes were glazed over and when you ask him if he’s okay and if he wants to talk he chooses to ignore you and locks himself in his office.

you wait up for hours, fighting off sleep so you can be there for him when he comes out and wants to talk. at some point your nerves get the best of you and you head into his office, only for him to lash out at you like he never has before. sure, you and sunghoon and gotten into petty fight before, but the sheer look of anger in his eyes is enough to have you slamming the door shut with tears in your eyes.

you lay on your shared bed fully clothed, not sleeping a wink. it’s still nighttime, and your head is as busy as the strip is. staring at the fragments of yourself that you see scattered throughout sunghoon’s room, you begin to weigh your options.

part of you expected sunghoon to remain undefeated forever, even though you know that’s not possible. but why did his first loss have to be so detrimental? and are you really prepared to live such an unpredictable lifestyle for god knows how long? pushing yourself off of your mattress, you grab a slip of paper and begin to write a note while trying to avoid smudging the ink with your tears.

hoonie,

i love you, but it was never meant to be.

what happens in vegas, stays in vegas.

good bye.

y/n

it’s nearing 4:00 am when you quietly gather your belongings, take all of the cash from sunghoon’s emergency safe, and get in a taxi headed to the airport. sin city taglist: @deobitifull @n-wjns @starstruckluminarytale @smuchsmut @idkwiexist @sjakewrld @muffinminnie @jeondolly @kimmchijjajang @drunkjaked @lalalalawon

1K notes View Post

hoonpalettes

1 year ago

all for the sake of throne — psh (m)

pairing: king!sunghoon x queen!reader

genre: explicit, royalty au, marriage au, not minor friendly

synopsis: as a king, sunghoon was perfect. He was intelligent, kind, confident — basically everything a woman would want, not to mention how great he was in bed as the cherry on top. But why did his wife seemed to disagree? Did she really hate him or was it all an act? Sunghoon didn’t know, but he was for sure sick of hiding his feelings.

warnings: dom!king hoon, he’s a little annoying but in a hot way, lovers in denial, hint of e2l, small plot, bathtub s*x, unprotected s*x, mentions of kitchen s*x, cute love confession at the end, this is mostly cute imo

word count: 2.7k

note: this is practically my version of the even days on Queen Charlotte, enjoy 🫰🏼

Let’s get over with it, you thought to yourself, standing before the glorious gates of the king’s room as you pushed them open, walking inside with a confidence that was half fake.

You did not like doing this, not one bit, yet you weren’t given the luxury of making your own decisions.

After all you had one task — birthing a new heir for the throne, it couldn’t be that hard now could it?

However it was, it really was hard with a person like him — with a person who’s not only a know it all but also as stubborn as a goat.

Gosh, he was so annoying with his stupidly handsome face and no, you did not care if it was a treason to call him that.

But the hardest part wasn’t the fact that you had to perform the “marital act” with him every other day on even days of the week, it was the fact that you had to hide that you actually liked it and that you were not being pretentious.

Why the hiding, you wonder? Because he was a jerk, a great king for his nation, true, but a trashy husband to you. And if you were supposed to age together, he had to improve, whether he liked it or not.

Which was why you were determined to get on his nerves just as much as he did to yours, thinking that it could make him question his perfect self, maybe for the sake of his marriage.

And well, given that he also was tired of hiding his feelings for you, that sly plan of yours seemed to have hope.

“We’re supposed to spend the night together.” You said as you stood before the bathtub that Sunghoon, who happened to be the mentioned king and husband, was bathing in, “It’s an even day today.”

Oh yeah, right, even day, he thought as he eyed you up and down, lips curling up to a smug smirk which dictated the fact that he liked your nightgown.

You looked astonishing, just like how you always did.

It was really a shame that he won’t be telling you that though, since you were treating him as if he was your enemy ever since your first morning together, making him wonder what he did so wrong.

I mean, you were newly wedded, both of you had given consent for this marriage so what was the issue? Why were you so mean to him?

He honestly didn’t have a clue, but it was true that his patience was running out thanks to you, and your cute little grumpy face.

“Leave us.” He ordered at the young man, his servant, who was standing by the door.

As the young man followed his command, you slipped out of your slippers, trying to untie the knot above the tiny buttons of your gown to take it off of you, but failing miserably despite your continuous attempts.

“Just get in.” Sunghoon bluntly spoke, eyes looking somewhat amused as he laid in the tub clothless, his muscular body full on display before you.

Yes he was unbearable as a person, but let’s be honest, he was hot as hell — maybe even hotter thanks to his cockiness.

Without rejecting, you did as you were told, stepping inside the warm water, letting it wet the long skirt of your gown as you kneeled in between his legs.

He didn’t resist your touch once you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer, lips resting merely an inch away from each other as you both sighed with expectation.

He was the one that closed the unnecessary gap, pushing his plump lips that you secretly really liked kissing on yours.

You leaned over as you kissed him back, placing your legs on both sides of his thighs, letting him pull you on his manhood with the grasp he had on your waist.

He was eager, so eager, and why did you enjoy that?

It felt like you were both in a rush to feel each other, almost as if you were doing this out of love and not because you were forced by the elders, aka his mom and her useless council of lords.

Well, calling this love would be bold but one thing was for sure, and it was that no power in the world could force either of you into doing something you didn’t like.

So yeah, despite the fact that none of you admit it, the even days of the week were for sure your favorite.

The way you both hissed once his tip brushed over your entrance was a living proof of that as you broke the kiss for a brief second, wanting to take a look at his handsome face.

He was frowning, biting his lips as you sank down on him, taking him more and more gradually until there was nothing left outside.

Ugh that feeling — the feeling of him filling you up to the max, it was freaking perfect.

His hands were now roaming on your body, caressing your back and playıng with your breasts over the thin fabric that weighed on you.

He groaned once you started to rock your hips on his, digging his nails into your skin almost as if he was trying to leave a mark behind.

The way you squeezed him tightly with your warmth was one thing, he was in love with it, true, but what drove him insane was the look on your face — the look of pure pleasure as you began to ride him, mouth gaping open to leave the most beautiful whimpers he has ever heard.

Ugh seriously, how dare you could be so attractive when you were so rebellious? He couldn’t stand that, you know?

You truly deserved a punishment for that, queen or not.

Placing both hands on your hips, he led you into a faster pace, all the while sneakily making his way back to your lips, enclosing them with his needy ones.

God he hated you, he hated to feel so needy for you, he hated the fact that he was burning for you while you treated him like shit, causing him to go mad all alone with the thoughts of you spiraling inside his mind.

But he loved you, he loved you so much that he was enduring it for you, pretending to be okay with it all — pretending to be only doing this for the sake of the throne.

Whereas he didn’t even care for an heir, not a single bit, no, he was just lying to not give you the upper hand.

Because how could he just confess his wild love for you when you were complaining about how bothering it was to have him breathing in the rooms of your palace just the other day?

Yeah, it was true that you made up for yourself after that with how you let him fuck you on the dinner table but let’s be honest, it was still really rude, even for you.

He couldn’t just forget about that, could he?

But honestly, he sort of really wanted to, especially when all he cared about was the way you made him feel every time he touched you, every time he made you his and every time he filled you up with his seeds — just like how he was about to do right now.

“Close,” you mumbled, arching your back as you let your head fall behind, your lips separating from his to expose more of your gorgeous neck for him, “I'm close, do not slow down.”

He scoffed, speechless at the audacity you had then again. You were giving orders to the king himself without a single care in the world, surely you were a mad woman, maybe as mad as him even.

Or maybe you were his perfect match, just like his servant pointed out the other day.

Giving a light squeeze to your buttocks, he trailed his hands on your body, reaching to your neck to wrap his hands around it. He didn’t forget to fondle your tıts on his way there, loving the way they were perfectly fitting in his palms.

After his long fingers were placed tightly around your throat, he pulled you down, speaking against your lips before he kissed them, “You can be a lady for once and ask for it kindly, you know,” he whispered, sarcastic with his tone, “it won’t kill you, I promise.”

“Please,” you replied, which was enough to surprise him as he froze in his spot, suddenly gulping down was an unmanageable task at the sound of your whiny request, “just don’t slow down, please.”

Shaking his head, he tried to break the spell you just unknowingly casted on him, “See,” he cleared his throat, pretending his best to seem unbothered, “it was not that hard now, was it my queen?”

“It was, actually,” you disagreed, pecking his lips with a shit eating grin on your face, “my heart almost stopped as I was saying the p word, my king.”

He giggled, biting his lips as he moved closer to give you a proper kiss, his tongue melting on yours once he poked it inside your mouth.

Although the conversation between you could be called cute, his thrusts and his kisses couldn't be included in the same category.

Guess he isn’t such a gentleman when it comes to making love, you thought, secretly enjoying this side of him.

And by the passing second, he only became more and more aggressive, the pressure in between your legs increasing a crazy amount with every push of his hips.

“Sunghoon ..” you called out for him in between sloppy kisses, struggling to keep yourself on your knees with the way they trembled.

“I know, do not worry,” he whispered, feeling the same way as you, desperately craving his high, almost like a teen boy, “I won’t stop until you’re there, I promise.”

And oh dear God, the list of things that he could sacrifice over the way you kissed him right now, it had no limit.

This was the first time he’s seen you being so needy, so passionate and so defenseless with him that he couldn’t help but to wonder if the whole “I hate your existence” thing that you got going on with him was fake.

Perhaps you were pretending just like him, but what for?

Now that he thought about it, maybe he hasn’t been a good husband to you and maybe — that was the reason behind your small riots.

If that was the case, then there was hope for your marriage, which without a doubt was all he asked for.

For sure you had your reasons to be beefing with him, I mean he had many faults towards you — like leaving you all alone at the first night of your marriage just so he could ‘observe the stars’ in his private observatory, but in the bigger picture it really was not his fault either.

He was raised to be a king, to be perfect, to be a scientist, to be a role model — not to be a husband unfortunately, and that hasn’t been a problem until after you’ve arrived.

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t complaining, it was just that your existence near him changed more than he thought.

First of all it changed him and it really was harder than you could guess to adjust.

Just a few days back he was a young boy who did not care for anything else besides the planet Venus, yet today the only thing that he was thinking about was you, and what he could do to impress you, in hopes of making you hate him less.

So to put it shortly, he just needed some time to make everything perfect, that was all.

It was your pretty voice what pulled him out of his trans as you were calling for the name of god after his. Your body was collapsed on his, your arms wrapped around his neck while you were panting against his ear, putting your last drop of energy to your legs in order to be able to keep on bouncing upon him.

“Shhh, you’re alright,” he whispered as he hugged your waist, taking some weight off your tired knees as he helped you with your movements using his strong arms, leading you up and down repeatedly, “I’ve got you y/n, it’s alright.”

“I’m … I-I think I’m …”

“Do it.” he cut your words, lips landing endless kisses on your neck as his grip tightened. His face was buried on your skin while he was trying to focus on his nearing high, hoping to arrange it at the same time with yours.

And he was successful with it, the seeds of your future generation spilling from his thick shaft into you, filling you up all good like your previous times.

Neither of you were quiet with your climaxes as you both groaned and sighed, hands all over each other, desperately searching for a space to hold on.

“Are you well?” he managed to utter after a while later, all breathless as he rested his face on your shoulders. You seemed just as exhausted as him, he could tell it from the way your heart was beating.

Yes, it was so loud that he could hear it, wasn’t that so cute?

“Mhm, I’m .. uhh .. fine.” you replied, forcing out your words with your half closed eyes, trying to remove yourself from where you were sitting on top of Sunghoon with your weak arms. “I should leave you .. um, good night.”

Now that you were done with each other, it was time that you left, right? I mean, It wasn’t like you had any good reasons to stay anyway.

Well, it looked like Sunghoon did not agree with you, not in the slightest bit.

“Wait — ” he stopped you, raising his head from where it was resting on your chest to look you in the eyes. And your eyes, lord, they were so beautiful. “Don’t leave tonight, just stay,” he said, using his kindest tone, “please, y/n, I’m asking you.”

“But — ”

“No buts,” he shushed you, caressing your lips with his thumb as he pressed it on them, “enough with this cold war between us, let us put an end to it already, yeah?”

You were left tongue-tied at his sudden offer, fluttering your lashes a few times as you observed his face. He was serious — sincere even, you could sense it with your heart, which was a first.

Were you surprised? hell yes, but this was a good thing.

He was trying to show that he was willing to take the first step for you and needless to say, it was as impressive as it was cute. He was probably freaking out on the inside, hoping miserably for you to take a step towards him as well, so that the unbearable gap between you two would vanish.

Clearing your throat, “Yeah,” you hummed, nodding your head, “I’d love that.”

“And no more even days or odd days,” he added, wrapping his arms around you even stronger, wanting to give you no space in case you tried to run away, “we shall have all of our days like this, together.”

Failing to stop your curiosity from getting the best of you, “But why now?” you asked.

I mean this was sweet and all, like who wouldn’t want peace with their husband but, what happened out of nowhere? You wanted to know, you had to know so you repeated yourself, “Why the change now?”

“Because I want my wife every day of the week, regardless of the date,” he answered, his eyes never leaving yours as they burned a hole through your soul, “I love her too much to let another day go to waste without her near me, that’s why.”

Wait, did you hear that right? Did he just tell you that he — ohmygod, did he just confess?

“Y-you … you love me?”

“I’m crazy about you, my queen,” he approved, a beautiful smile spreading all over on his handsome face as he leaned in to steal your breath with his lips once again before he whispered,

“I’m as crazy as a mad dog for you, if only you could see.”

1K notes View Post

hoonpalettes

1 year ago

🗒️ 、 INTENTIONS

popular sunghoon x fem reader 1535 words genre fluff mikaela’s note because sunghoon is so tristan dugray coded, inspired by a gilmore girls scene

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” Sunghoon mumbles, and he’s so close you can feel his breath on your lips.

He holds your gaze confidently, with a tinge of arrogance as his tongue darts out to lick his lip. You think that Sunghoon is the most annoying person in the world, because how can he look so devilishly handsome and have such an intoxicating effect on you.

It all started when he showed up unannounced and uninvited to your birthday party — still in his school uniform, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up with his blazer hanging over his shoulder.

And you should have known better than to let him charm his way into your house. “What are you doing here, Hoon?”

He loves the way his nickname rolls off the tip of your tongue, it's so addictive and he wants to record it so that he can play it again and again, even if your tone is one of spite.

“Happy birthday princess,” Sunghoon completely ignores your words, taking steps closer towards you, “now, where’s my birthday kiss?”

He’s at it again, aimlessly flirting with you. You roll your eyes, a deep sigh exiting your mouth, “it’s my birthday, Hoon.” How did he even know where you lived? You were sure you told everyone you invited not to bring him along.

“So I’ll give you a birthday kiss,” he grins, eyes glinting with mischief as he watches your facial expressions fall, ears burning red as you quickly turn around.

You hate Park Sunghoon and the unimaginable hold he has on you. “I’m going to find my mother. Do not, I swear to god, cause any trouble.”

“Your mother? It’s a little early in the relationship,” he moves swiftly to your side, arms casually slinging over your shoulder as he pulls you closer into him forcefully. “But it’s okay, I’m ready.”

Where in the world does Sunghoon get his cocky attitude from, you think as you try your best to pry and lift his arm away from your shoulder. Despite your surface indifference towards his advances, there were millions of butterflies invading your stomach at his every single action.

Before you can even try to escape, a voice calls your name and you stop to talk to Yunjin. “Park Sunghoon? What are you doing here?”

Sunghoon steals a glance at you, and he thinks you look absolutely adorable as you pout at the image of multiple people seeing you with him; given how you always seemed to have complaints about his overly flirty nature and playboy ways.

But Sunghoon hasn’t fooled around since you transferred into Decelis two months ago, a personal record for him. At first all you were was a form of entertainment, someone who had cute reactions to his smooth pick up lines.

Then it all came crashing down, when he started to feel the need to bicker with you everyday and mess up your hair every time he sees you in the hallways. And somewhere in between the blurred lines, he fell in love.

“Here to celebrate my girl’s birthday,” he cocks his head towards you, who’s palms now cover your face in sheer embarrassment. God, now it’s going to spread like wildfire. His girl?

Yunjin’s eyes widen and jaw drops, “really? You guys are together? But I thought you were with Choi Soobin.” She asks, nudging you.

Sunghoon frowns at her words. Choi Soobin? Since when? Sunghoon literally follows you around school whenever he sees you, and he’s never seen you ever talk to that boy.

“Soobin and I are just friends,” you clarify, “also we are not a couple,” your finger gesturing to you and Sunghoon as you answer the girl.

“Tomorrow we’ll be a couple,” Sunghoon cuts back into the conversation, voice loud, and he catches your surprised expression as he smirks slyly.

Though he continues the conversation without a single stutter or break, Sunghoon’s feeling utterly disgusted. Is that the kind of boy you like? Nerdy losers who can’t do anything for the life of themselves? He doesn’t really like the thought of turning into those types of boys, but whatever you want, he thinks — he’s already practised abstinence for you, he might as well go all the way.

At the same time Sunghoon wonders if you’re really that oblivious to his obvious advancements towards you. He’s made it crystal clear: dumped his girlfriend, follows you around, talks about you literally all the time, and yet you’re still clueless.

And he whisks you away before you find the chance to clarify his words again. He’s determined this time round, to make it extremely straightforward for you.

“Hoon why in the world would you say stuff like that,” you groan, hands slapping his chest. And he grins like an idiot at your touch, if this was what it took for you to initiate skinship with him, he’d be more than willing to proclaim himself as your boyfriend any day.

He places a hand on the place you’d just hit, “it’s painful,” he pouts, and you almost feel a little guilty at your harsh actions, “can you kiss it better?”

Until that. You huff, “i’m leaving,” you announce as you turn away, ready to walk right back into the crowd. Sunghoon quickly clasps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you into his chest.

Your eyes become those of a deer caught in headlights as your body is pressed firmly against his, his arms finding their way to your waist; a gentle but firm hold as he bends down.

“Wasn’t done yet, princess,” he smirks, and you feel some sort of danger looming over because Sunghoon looks like a devil enticing you to commit sin. His black hair styles perfectly like always and his red tie, due to his excessive movements, is now dropping down even more to expose his honey skinned collarbones.

The most you can muster is a mumble, “what,” and your eyes are glassy as you stare up at him, he thinks he might go insane — so close to just moving in to place a kiss on your invitingly soft lips.

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” and he literally spits the term out, unable to believe he’s labelling someone else other than him ‘your boyfriend’. He knows you guys aren’t together, but just for the comfort of his heart he has to hear it again.

It takes you a while before you process his words. “He’s not my boyfriend, Hoon,” and it’s that short statement coupled with the way you say his name that really breaks it for him.

Sunghoon moves in just as you finish your sentence, and he sinks into your pillowy lips. It’s paradise on earth and he thinks he will never be able to get enough of this feeling.

“Sunghoon,” you mumble when he breaks the kiss, slightly out of breath as you look up with hazy eyes.

He chuckles, “sorry, baby, my bad. I’ll return your kiss back,” and Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to give you another kiss, fingers caressing your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

This time it’s you who breaks the kiss, way too out of breath to even form full sentences without a few breaks in between. “You just kissed me.”

“Right, I just did that baby,” he smiles, those tiny fangs of his showcased as he gazes adoringly at you. “Actually, I’m looking for a girlfriend.” He pauses, eyeing your flushed cheeks and pink lips, “you looking for a boyfriend by any chance, princess?”

Now that you’re literally glued onto Sunghoon, you take the chance to look at him. Sharp nose, pretty moles that you could probably trace along all day, and his eyes which contrasting to his calm demeanour, held anxiousness as he waited for you to answer.

You’ve thought about dating Sunghoon before. Multiple times. Way more than you should’ve. And you never wanted to ever confess to it, because he was everyone’s crush. And not only that, he was annoying — constantly teasing you and making you flustered by his actions. You’d curse every time your heartbeat started to accelerate at his flirty words. You had thought that there was no way he’d ever like you back.

“I’m looking for a boyfriend,” you admit, letting out a soft giggle at Sunghoon’s overjoyed expression. And you decide that maybe now’s the time to get back at him, tease him a little to get him to stay on his toes, “maybe I should go find Soobin.”

His shoulders drop almost immediately and his arms wrap around your waist securely, chin resting on the top of your head. “No fucking way,” he grumbles, “you’re my girlfriend now. And I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, you are,” you say, voice muffled in the embrace of Sunghoon. And you hear him giggle slightly, the rumble of his chest exposing the boyish feelings your boyfriend was currently going through, “for now.”

Sunghoon lifts his chin from your head, fingers brushing over your cheeks before they land themselves on your jaw. He tilts your chin up, “too bad my intention is forever.” And he places a chaste kiss on your lips again and again.

You are in for a long ride.

4K notes View Post

hoonpalettes

2 years ago

02:57pm — park sunghoon

0.5k words … fluff …. a bit suggestive …lowercase intended … rated pg13 … listen to love me like that by sam kim

for a pair who called themselves academic rivals, you and park sunghoon shouldnt have been in the janitors closet, bunking one of your most favourite classes, just to have his lips against yours for a few minutes.

but oh the way he held you, the way he kissed you like he could never do so again, you decided missing a few minutes of biology wouldnt really affect your perfect grades much.

sunghoons lips moved away from yours, and you couldnt wait for him to put it back on yours once again. he didnt take his hands off you, his grip just as tight as before, now just a bit softer, rubbing circles on the side of your waist. you feel your face redding more than ever, from his intense gaze on you.

“stop looking at me like that” you breathe out, still in a bit of a daze from all the kissing. he smiles “like what?” you hit his chest playfully, giggling and then looking into his eyes, only to see how soft his gaze was. you sucked in a breath, gasping at how incredibly beautiful he looked, the only light being the light coming in from the small opening of the janitors closet. “you know what i mean.” you say, your hands moving from his chest, snaking around his neck, pulling him a tad bit closer. you dont miss the way he glances at your lips once again, and youre glad to know that he isnt the only one who cant stop thinking about kissing the other again.

his hands pull you even closer and you can feel his breath on your lips, almost closing the distance. “no, i dont know what youre talking about.” and his lips are on yours once again, smiling when he feels you kiss him back with the same passion.

his kisses were so soft, so gentle, so fragile. your legs were turning weak and you were melting into his arms.

pulling away after a few seconds, he looked at you once again, wanting to ask you something, yet hesitating.

“what’s on your mind?” you ask him, raking your hands through his hair, and he melts into your touch. “i just… im wondering if we’re ever gonna be more than just.. secret meetings and stolen kisses like these. i want to do this in front of everyone. i want to be able to hold your hands, to kiss you on your forehead, to reassure you whenever you think you havent prepared enough for a test, to be able to call you mine. call me selfish but i want to tell everyone that youre mine.” he finishes off, shying under your smile towards him.

you cup his face in your hands and make him look at you. “whatever you want okay? im just worried that all your fangirls might be mad that im the one who’s dating you and not them.”

sunghoons eyebrows furrow. “what fangirls? we’re both a bunch of nerds who would compete with each other to try to cover up the feelings we actually had.” you giggle and kiss his nose, adoring the way he scrunched it up at the feeling. you pull him into a hug, smiling.

“dork”

a/n: hgfjdksla hoon brainrot ✍🏽 reblogs and feedback are much appreciated <3

©iwonzzi

394 notes View Post

hoonpalettes

2 years ago

what a handsome flirt

336 notes View Post

hoonpalettes

5 months ago

MILF HUNT! ― P.JS

Jay, a favorite among classy wives to hire during the hot summer season for a nice, thorough pool cleaning, seems to have a favorite wife of his own. You. Or the one where Jay was the pain-in-your-ass son of the family you used to babysit for, but now he’s making it his mission to be the pain-in-your-ass pretend husband that you never asked for, but very clearly need.

minors dni

PAIRING ― park jongseong x afab milf!reader

WORDCOUNT― 18.9k

CONTENT― age gap: reader is 29 and jay is 22, milf trope/single mother reader, college pool boy jay (turned part time babysitter), reader has 1 kid and jay really wants to give her another, reader has morals!! jay just doesn’t see it as a moral issue, he is actually very sweet

!WARNINGS! ― age gap, jay is somewhat of a manipulator, he’s gentle but won’t take no for an answer. dub-con in one instance. major breeding kink and kind of a mommy and daddy kink (domesticity), angst regarding reader and her ex husband, reader has huge tits

NOTE ― this was supposed to be a toxic jay fic but it turned into this instead because i love him so bad…………. NOT PROOF READ, mind the typos. i'm insane for him.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― big dick jay, masturbation, small instance of dubious consent, tit obsessed jay, groping and grinding, mommy/daddy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, cum stuffing-ish, pussy eating, fingering, basically it’s jay doing stuff to you, this ain’t smut this is making love, also reader doesn’t shave her coochie and jay fucking loves it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Having a stray eye isn’t typically something you afford yourself when it comes to men. Things tend to change with time though, that much you know is true.

It was proven to you for the first time when your ex husband decided to up and leave you three weeks before your due date for a woman–well, girl, fresh out of high school. Years of trust and promises crushed with just a single sentence and a slam of the door. Time must’ve changed you for him to leave so heartlessly. Time must’ve changed him to become so cold.

It was proven again when you were able to heal despite never believing you could. Seconds of pain turned to minutes, to hours. Days. weeks. Months. Years of pain before being able to wake up and feel somewhat numb to it all. Like a flip switch in your head that told you that you can be happy now even if as a single mother. After all, the hard part was over.

It took some four to five years, but it did happen. Time did change you, it healed you, it matured you. As your child grew, so did you. And for the better, you think. You count your blessings of living a life far more lavish than you ever could have anticipated given the circumstances that had been thrown at you. Even to the point of nesting, wanting another child, wanting a big and happy family. But alas, your ex husband had better things to do.

At the end of the day, you’d never be able to call this home yours if you had stayed with your ex husband. He didn’t like this kind of “flashy” lifestyle, and to him, everything you wanted seemed too flashy for him. Perhaps he was right to some extent, as you recognize the brand name goods you now own, solely because you had promised yourself in the depths of your despair that you’ll get to a point in life where you can buy yourself everything you not only need, but want. So, here you are, owning an expensive home, in a nice neighborhood, with a nice car and a nice pool.

Your daughter has everything she could want and need too, aside from a sibling, it’s certainly still more than what you had growing up and it’s all because of you. A fully decorated bedroom drenched in glitter, purples, creams, yellows, and pink, her favorite color. All sorts of play houses, costumes, dolls, a few lego sets, and even some plastic swords and knives for the days she wants to pretend to be her favorite movie characters. Clothes she can grow into, and a nice little fund building up for her as she grows up. Her first car, college, help for a down payment on her own first house.

Both of you have everything you could ever want or need and for that, you’re so proud. Especially knowing your husband would have never believed you could make it this far without him. Still, despite having everything you could ever ask for, there’s something in you that feels empty.

Time changes things.

Time changes a lot of things, you note more than usual, as the man you’ve been ogling for the past three weeks makes himself far more known to you than you ever wished he would.

The interaction with him was always so quick before today and given the fact that he was a complete stranger, you never quite invited him into your home considering–you know, small child and all. You had hired him over text. Jay, your neighbor said his name was. His handsome features didn’t offer you anything more than a clean pool and a wandering eye.

Your neighbor apparently has a friend who has a cousin that has an even nicer pool than you do. Given, it’s only a nicer pool due to the fact that this young man, Jay, tended to it weekly and made damn sure it could be drunk out of if a person had a craving for chlorine.

You feel like an idiot now that it didn’t dawn on you quick enough. Sure, he looked a bit familiar to you but who doesn’t when you’re always out and about seeing so many different faces on a daily basis? His name, Jay, didn’t ring any bells. Now though, the shame of staring at his sweaty pecs and biceps came crashing down the moment you realized who Jay actually is.

He didn’t do a damn thing to remind you either, if anything, all he did was walk around all sweaty in the afternoon heat with his tank top either sticking to him, or off entirely. It appears that you had just been too busy running errands with your child, considering his shifts were always when you were home. Too busy cooking, cleaning, reading, lounging. Too busy looking at…well, not his face.

Too busy to give the man a glance more than that of a slice of pie behind a bakery window.

Jay.

Since fucking when was that his name?

“Park Jongseong.” You whimper near mortified, three weeks too late as you hand him his pay with nervous hands. “Spray-cheese in my hair Jongseong?”

“Ah, was wondering when you’d pick up on that.” He smiles at you with that crooked grin, a knowing look that any man at a bar would give you if he had caught you checking him out. Then, he pockets the hefty amount of cash that you hand to him. “I go by Jay more often these days.” He trails off, an amused smirk half-falling as he looks at your expression of realization. “You can call me whatever you want though.”

He’s well aware of how often you’ve checked him out since he started intentionally taking his clothes off. After all, it’s mid-july by this point and the sun baring down on him doesn’t quite call for a fucking turtle neck sweater. Or a T-shirt, or a tank top, for that matter. It calls for all skin baby, beautifully tanned and toned for you and any of your neighbors to look at if they so wanted to.

Jay doesn’t work out for nothing, after all. Summer after summer, he’s found himself to be quite fond of the rich women that hire him for their pool services. Always wanting an attractive young man to wander around half naked and satiate their lack of sex life with their husbands, or boy-toys, or what have you. He knows all that extra pay isn’t because he does a good job either. He’s gotten winks, small comments, even a few offers of his body for more pay.

He’s turned them all down, of course. For a full-on affair, anyway. Jay has gotten a few blow jobs and quickies as a tip before though, and a lot of that is why he keeps getting referred to more women. Richer women. Never single women.

Until you.

He quite enjoyed catching you looking at him. Especially given the fact that he knew exactly who you were when you introduced yourself to him via text. That little childhood crush on you came back within an instant upon actually seeing you again. Truly, he had forgotten all about you up until that fateful day three weeks ago.

If he’s being honest, he’s been pining something fierce since he first stepped foot on your property. Excitement swelled inside of him just to see you again. To see if you’re still hot, to see how you’re doing, what you’re doing. How your life is going.

He knew you didn’t recognize his nickname through text, and he definitely knew you didn’t recognize him to be eating him up with those eyes of yours either. So, he played along, enjoying it while he could before it would inevitably dawn on you. Still, he remembers you so well from back then. Crazy to know that he rarely thought of you for the past twelve years or so, and how all those little butterflies of his came back in a far more mature way. He was only ten back then, but he’s a man now.

Twenty two and perfectly sound as a man who knows what he likes. The fact that you happen to fall into that category is no fault of his own, honestly. It’s your fault if anyone’s at all. Jay is a man that likes a specific type of woman too. Woman. Not a girl, not a young lady, not a free spirit, nor a prude. He is drawn to the idea of experience, to the idea of settling down. It’s not easy to find that at his age, in college, surrounded by party girls and casual drug use.

And, well, imagine his smile upon seeing your lovely, lavish home with the large pool, no ring on your finger, a whole fucking child, and your motherly instincts when you buckle her into the car for an errand. Oh and the broken fence in the far back of your yard.

You’re a single mom.

A hot single mom who lives lavishly. One who could probably use a man’s help around your house.

He half expected you to be able to recognize him when he appeared for work the first time. He even had a monologue in his head on what to say to you, and how to present himself. You didn’t seem to take notice though, introducing yourself to him as if you hadn’t spent all that time in his childhood home when you were a teenager. Like you never mothered him, or put him to sleep with the soft lul of your voice when you let him watch all those scary movies before bed.

Clearly you’re too busy experiencing life to notice the way he fawns over you too. Hating how you’re more reserved than the other lavish, fixed-up women. You seem to have standards, or maybe it’s just priorities ... that's so hot. Truly, it only makes him want you more because by now, the other women would already be rubbing all over him. The ones who shouldn’t be wanting him the way they do. So, yes, he’s always stealing glances at you with sparkling dark eyes, fantasizing in his head that this pool is his to clean now, because that’s what a good man would do for you, right? With him around servicing your pool and lawn, you’d never need to hire or spend money on another broke ass college student again.

Yes. That’s how quickly he fell into this infatuation solely because you looked at him like you want it without realizing who he was. Hell, without realizing how perfect you are in terms of what he wants.

God, how are you still single?

Like, why do you have a child and a house so beautiful without a man wandering around doing all of this work for you? Not that you couldn’t do it on your own, it’s just, you clearly have the means to make a man do as you please. Why haven’t you?

You happen to fall almost perfectly into the categories of what he’s looking for. Save for the fact that now you recognize him as that kid you used to babysit rather than the man who tries to be sexy while cleaning your pool. Which is a fucking shame, if he’s being honest, to be written off as that same ten year old child rather than a fucking man who very clearly has needs and desires.

The point is– Jay wants you and he parades around your pool for you to look at him. So what if you used to babysit him? It’s not like you’re an old swamp-hag trying to lure him with candy. You’re just…a woman. And he’s just a man.

“Well, thank you for cleaning again,” You trail off in an awkward tone, shifting your eyes to anywhere but him. He watches you though, smiling a smile you know all too well from his childhood antics. It must mean something different now, or maybe not. “I guess I’ll see you next week?”

“Well, actually,” Jay offers, “Would you be opposed to–” You cut him off instantly with an awkward wave of your hand.

You don’t know why you make assumptions, maybe from that damned smile on his face, but you do recall your ex husband reminding you time and time again that it’s one of the things he hated about you.

Assumptions. Always thinking the worst, or perhaps the most filthy of situations and expressions. To be fair, you feel guilty about how you’ve been looking at him, you can’t help but panic trying to pretend like it never happened, and that he never saw it happen.

“I’m not interested, Jongseong.” You respond hastily, pressing your thumb to your bottom lip to bite the skin on it, keeping your eyes away from him with the awkward words. After all, he knew who you were this whole time and paraded around like that?

Even before recognizing him yourself, you know men well enough to know when they’re trying to flaunt. Is it so wrong to assume?

“Interested in what?” Jay tilts his head knowingly, seeing the way you buckle under the guilt of staring at the very man you used to tuck into bed every night. He can see the way you try to push those sexual thoughts you had away in the quick rejection to a simple assumption.

“I was just going to ask if you want me to fix your fence.”

Ah, you did get ahead of yourself through the guilt, and you’re far too aware of it as you draw your eyes back to him and note the expression on his face. Amused, maybe a bit of concern in his eyes, even?

“Ah, um–” You start, trailing your eyes down your fence line never once noticing a break in it. Jay is quick to point though, leaning to you with a whisper of “right there.” And well, you did not need to hear that tone in his voice the way you just did.

God, it’s so awkward.

“Well, how much would that cost me?” You question with an empty voice, staring at the broken fence.

“Free.” He uses the same tone, leaning away from you now and smiling wide. “That is, if you provide lunch.”

Well, despite the awkwardness, that break over there would cost you a pretty penny to fix, and your daughter needs the safety of playing in her own yard without random animals or worse, people, making their way in. Plus, you’re quite fond of saving money. How else would you be here if you weren’t good at it? And now, given that you’re most definitely not interested in Jay, what's the harm in making a few sandwiches for someone you already know well enough? It’s not like you’ve never made him lunch before.

The awkwardness will pass and your guilt will subside. You both will laugh at it over a cold glass of iced lemonade, surely. It’s not like you realized who he was anyway, it’s not like you’re just gonna keep looking at him like that. You should just push forward and it’ll all be fine.

“Hell, I’d even watch the kiddo so you can have a break every now and then.” He watches your reaction, wanting to ask so many questions about why you’re single, who the father is, where he is, why he isn’t here. “After all, I learned quite a bit from you.”

For a second you consider that too.

And there’s three reasons as to why you should. The first being that you were literally just looking for a new child care facility due to learning of the staff coming to work while sick. Your poor daughter came home with a fever just last week, and you’ve had little luck in finding a place with the same educational benefits for her.

The second being that, well, while you’re not hurting for cash or anything, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to put a little more back for her college fund. Or for fun little vacations.

And lastly, despite your guilt of lusting over someone you shouldn’t have, you know Jongseong and you know his family even better. No background check would be needed, your daughter could be in the comfort of her own home rather than a classroom setting that she’s sure to see for at least twenty years of her life in the future.

So, yes. You consider it instantly, and Jay sees it.

You only know of the childhood version of him and, well, the slutty pool-side version of him apparently. If only you knew of that other side of him and how fond he is of watching his own younger cousins. How good he is with children, and how much he clings to the idea of being a father one day.

Jay is great with kids, with or without them having a hot mom.

And well, he knows that he’s fond of looking at you at least. Besides, as long as you can work with his class schedules, he’d be willing to do just about anything to play pretend-husband, even if you’re unaware of it.

“Is that so?” You finally ask, curious eyes looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Shouldn’t you be out living the life? College parties and such?” You add, wondering why such a great deal has managed to flop down on your lap. The idea of even cheaper childcare without the risk of unvaccinated children, and sick caretakers being far too good of a deal to pass up.

“Well, yeah I guess.” He shrugs, leaning backwards to stretch and roll his shoulders. “Not really my scene though. I have classes Monday and Wednesday all day, Tuesday and Thursdays my classes are online. If you can work around that, I’d rather just be making money and chilling.”

You think about it just for a second more when he continues.

“I can be here on weekends too. Maybe you should be the one out relaxing and having some drinks.”

“Well, I don’t quite need that, or for you to be here on weekends.” You think as you say it, knowing you have given up on going out to try and meet men two years ago. “I could pay you though, let’s say, thirty an hour?”

Well, shit, that’s not too bad at all, especially considering he’s about to give up on cleaning the pools of a few women in his contacts for this. It’s a major pay cut, but still enough to get by comfortably if you’ll have him multiple times a week. That plus the pool cleaning money? And free lunch?

“Oh, you don’t go out at all? I don’t see why not, could probably get a man in no time–” Jay ignores the wage offer and pushes to note the singlehood he had been noticing for the past three weeks. “and the pay is fine.”

“Ah, well, the dating pool isn’t so great in this neck of the woods.” You scratch the back of your neck when you say it. “That aside, I'll have her in day care on the days you can’t be here, but it really would be a big help. Thank you for the offer, Jongseong. And for the fence too.”

He watches you with a firm nod, shoving his hands into the pockets of his basketball shorts, still entirely shirtless in front of you.

“And the pool.” You add quietly after a moment.

“I think you’d be surprised about the dating pool.” He smiles as he pushes the subject back to what you had previously said, hoping you believe those words before continuing. “So, when do you want me to start?”

“Is tomorrow too soon? You’re okay to set up here with your online classes?”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” He smiles.

“I’m sure she would be so happy knowing she won’t be going to daycare–” You clap, feeling a bit less awkward despite the boldness of the man in front of you. You’re sure he’s just teasing you for knowing you checked him out. “I know I am.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a little too perfect, actually.

After that first day of watching your child and making a lazy attempt at “fixing your fence,” he’s settled in like it’s home. He wishes it was, with the lavish lifestyle in a house far too pretty compared to his own living space with piles upon piles of laundry he’s too lazy to pick up for himself.

It’s different for you though. Different when he’s here.

Truly, he feels like he’s living the life after a couple of weeks with decent pay and a comfy space to do his homework. He watches your child, which is arguably the hardest part of the job but she’s well behaved for him. In fact, she seems to have taken a shine to him.

He’s starting to be very intentional with taking far too long to work on your fence too, and still maintaining your pool. He’s trying to drag this out for as long as he can. Even if just to see if you still look at him when you come home the same way you did before recognizing him. You never do though. When his shirt is off and he’s wiping his forehead in the sun, you don’t look at him anymore.

Hell, he’s even considered breaking things in your home just to give himself more jobs to do. More things that make him feel needed, like a husband. More things that you thank him for fixing, even if it breaks again two days later.

And ah, the food in your fridge is always free reign to him, that large television in the living room too. God, sometimes he dreads going home, and by sometimes, he means all the time. Who in their right mind would ever fucking want to live outside of this lifestyle? He really can’t believe you’re single, nor can he believe that he has the opportunity to be in your home, close to you. It shouldn’t take too long now to convince you, right? That you don’t necessarily have to be single? That you need him around to live even more comfortably?

In short, Jay is in his head about how he’s practically just roleplaying as your stay-at-home husband before having to go back to his shitty little apartment and remind himself that he’s just a fucking college student with no interest in the people on campus. And like, even with the way you come home from work, all groggy and exhausted on the days he’s there, you always thank him before giving him his pay. What he likes best about those nights is when you’re too exhausted to even pay him and you promise to do it next time.

In his mind, that’s you promising to see him again.

He could give less of a shit about the pay at this point, as long as he gets to be in this house, smelling your favorite candles and dish detergents, seeing you, being a semi-father to a child who deserves more love than the two of you combined can give…he’ll fucking do anything you want for free.

It’s difficult sometimes, like he really can’t help it. Some days wandering around this house and imagining how the two of you could have landed on buying it together. How the rooms would be organized if he were here from the start. Claiming his spot on your couch like any dad would. Playing dolls with your daughter, laughing with her, letting her paint his nails and put his hair in little pigtails. He even cleans your pool as if it were his own, meaning, he genuinely cleans it.

He has taken it upon himself to mow your lawn, confusing the yard workers that you apparently hired years ago. Did he accidentally fire them? Maybe, but any good husband would save you money, right? He checks your mail, waves to your neighbors and lets them make assumptions.

And every single fucking night it’s harder and harder to go back home.

Especially after a full day of playing dad then seeing you come back home so tired. Turning off that switch in his head isn’t easy. He wants to greet you like the husband you don’t have. He wants to ease your hard days in so many ways. Tell you he’s proud of you, that you still look so pretty after an exhausting shift of whatever the fuck you do. He wants to serve you dinner, run you a bath, fix your hair, lay you down– oh, he’s fantasizing again. Unfortunately, he has to settle with seeing the relief on your face when he lets you know in a soft voice that he’s cooked dinner and he will heat it up for you before leaving, kiddo is in her room sleeping, no dishes in the sink, and laundry is folded and put away.

He loves the appreciation in your eyes, and sometimes even sees a glint of sadness. He can tell you wish you had this from a person who isn’t here for pay. Someone who loves you, and loves your child, and feels joy in making your life easier.

Fuck, if only you knew.

And you’d be lying if you tried to say Jay isn’t a godsend to you on the days he babysits. Many times you find yourself wishing he’d just move in and do everything that you can’t do. You’d pay him well, give him a guest room, whatever. But it’s just…not viable to support a full time employee like that, nor is it fair to your daughter.

She needs a parent, not a paid college student who needs some extra cash. You have to be that parent, you have to make time for her and witness all of her joys in life. You have to protect her and never bring in faces of men who claim to want to be a father, only to run and break her heart more than your own.

For now, you settle with this godsend of a little shit you used to babysit. Still you can barely believe that’s the same person, but again…time changes things. And thankfully, the awkwardness of what you did has died down drastically.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Today, you’re more thankful for Jay than you have been previously. After a heavy workload has been lifted off your back with the approval of this project, you need a night out. For the first time in years, you’re giving yourself a night out, all because you have someone you can trust to be here for your daughter.

He was so understanding when you called, even happy to come over right then and there to put her to bed and mostly just house-sit for the night. Even without an end time for him, and even without asking for extra pay, he just…accepted with an understanding tone and that stupid breathy chuckle he gives to you when you ask for favors. “What? You need me there right now? I’m putting on my shoes.” He had said.

It’s the fact that now, as he sits on your couch looking at you in your chosen outfit– he seems a little off. Maybe it’s because you asked him where the best spots in town are because it’s been so long since you’ve gone out, or maybe he just feels awkward seeing so much skin on your body.

To be fair, he didn’t realize you were going out out. He thought that maybe you were gonna go stay with a friend to celebrate and have a drink or two.

In reality though, he’s just awestruck. Already you look great even after your busy days at work but…this is a different level. The way your tits look in that push-up bra and tiny ass top, when he’s used to seeing you head out in some sort of business casual outfit without an ounce of skin showing save for your ankles or wrists…jesus. He’s struggling more than usual to keep himself calm around you, hopping up on one leg when you walk away to try and adjust the chub in his pants, and releasing a small sigh before you’re looking at him again.

His skin feels like it’s on fire knowing you’re going out looking like that.

“You sure you're okay to sleep over? I figure it’ll be easier since I’m not sure when I’ll come home, or if I come home.” You smile with a wink, your stomach in knots over the two shots you’ve taken for the first time in years. “I can call my friends and tell them not to come if you’d rather focus on your studies.”

Jay shakes his head, waving his hands in defense for you as if he didn’t just see the way your tits bounce and squish against your shirt with each move you make.

“No, no! Go on, have fun.” He says, encouraging you to go out despite hoping you come home with no luck of finding a man out there.

Just, look at you. Fuck, he’s staring again. He hates knowing that he could be one of the guys at whatever bar or club you’re landing on tonight. He could be the person that makes sure you don’t come home, getting to plant his face right there. He could be whatever you want him to be if you’re looking like that.

But no, he has to play husband again, which is normally something he’s all too excited to do. Tonight though, he feels like a fucking cuckold. After everything he does for you, after not mentioning how you’ve skipped a few of his payments, after slaving away for hours over your pool, your household chores, fixing and breaking that fucking dishwasher, cooking you dinner every single night he’s here just to make sure you have a meal when you get off of work…you imply you may not come home tonight?

And you’re dressed like that?

And you’re…

God, you just look so good right now. It pains him to know you didn’t dress like this for him, the only man who cares enough to make your life easy. He’s not mad at you, per se, but he’s pissed that you don’t see him as an option despite showing you time and time again that not only is he an option, but the right choice.

This is what you look like when you want to impress a man? This is how you act? How you talk? Fuck, god, fuck– maybe he’s just too deep in his one-sided roleplay but it really, really fucking feels like he’s watching his woman go off and look for someone else to fuck.

“Thank you, Jongseong,” You smile, walking over to him with a saunter in your step and a gentle smile across your lips.

He’s never heard you speak his name so sensually, the way his cock twitches forces him to wince away from you. He’s never even seen you saunter before. Fucking hell, somehow it feels worse seeing you act like this after how many times he’s imagined it, all alone in his room.

A slow walk from you, with the strap of your shirt slipping off your shoulder, fat tits threatening to spill out, lifting the hem of your skirt, or dress, or whatever you’re wearing in his fantasy at that point. Your voice, so soft, so sexy. And you’re practically bringing his fantasy to life right now, except he knows you’re going to fucking walk away from him like this. Into the fucking arms of some random dude at a club.

Probably some loser he’s seen on campus too.

“It means a lot.” You add, popping a quick, platonic kiss to the top of his forehead.

Ah, lipgloss. That little kiss on him is enough to ignite him to the point of no return. He almost wants to skip the part of asking you not to go and straight up just beg that you pick him, that you choose him. It’s not just your home, or the luxuries that come with it. It’s you that he wants. You’re the fucking luxury and you’re just gonna go to some sticky-floored club and pretend he’s not clearly checking you the fuck out right now? Like he’s not about three seconds from dropping to his knees just to see you from the angle you deserve?!

“It’s no problem.” Jay relents, dropping himself onto your couch instead and adjusting his body to sink deep into the cushions just to keep himself from arguing against everything he’s giving you permission to do right now.

Hah. Permission.

“Be safe.” He adds in an even more monotone voice. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

And god, he seethes in his thoughts after you close that door and hop into the car with your friends. You don’t look like a mother tonight, and he wonders if you’ll be upfront and forward with anyone you intend to hit on too. Probably not. He’s well aware of the men in this city, after all, he’s one of them.

It’s really not something he can control after seeing you like that either. Your child is already in bed and he’s just sitting here on your couch with a throbbing, fucking weeping cock thinking about you. What’s stopping him from taking care of it? You’re not here, after all.

You’re not fucking here. But everything about you is.

And that’s how he finds himself in your bedroom for the first time, barely making it a foot into the room before closing the door and dropping to the floor. The scent in your room is different. It’s feminine, gentle, like the energy is kissing him all over and sending goosebumps straight to the head of his cock. He couldn’t even pull it out, already holding his breath with his hand down his pants, vigorously trying to get what he wants so badly yet knowing that his hand will never compare to you.

And it’s here where he feels like a husband. Spilling against his pants with a silent, choked back sob as he stares forward at your bed, and the way you didn’t make it this morning. It’s messy, and he wants to be in that mess of sheets with you more than anything.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jay hates that he’s now forced to get used to your late night ventures. Every weekend now. Every. Fucking. Weekend. You ask if he’s willing to stay over so you can go unwind, and despite his better (or worse) judgment, he accepts. The only solace he finds in these ventures is knowing you consistently come back home right after usual closing times, and you’re mostly sober. Sometimes a bit whiny that you’re not lucking out, worrying that maybe you’re too old now, or maybe you’re just not as desirable. There have even been a few times where you’ve exposed your ex husband during your rants, giving Jay little hints to follow as to why you’re single, and how he left you.

Still, he knows in your tipsy state that you usually wouldn’t talk about these things with him, but he’s all too happy to get the details once you come home. Mostly because it calms his rising rage at how you’re doing this to not only him, but yourself. It’s mostly because you’re technically coming home to him though.

And every single time, you go back to your bedroom to grab his payment even though it could wait until morning, considering he’s been sleeping in the guest room– all he can think about is how he’s been in your room. He’s gotten off countless times by now by the smell of your room alone, still barely able to even reach your bed to lay in it himself for a better experience. God, he’s probably memorized each little fray in your carpeted bedroom floor by now with how much he’s zoned out on it mid-jerk off session right there on his knees at your door.

He’s truly pathetic for you.

This time though…three in the morning has passed and normally you’d have been stumbling through the door an hour ago. Normally, he’d be fighting back the need to tell you that you’re beautiful, not too old, and entirely desirable. Normally, he would be fisting his cock again in your guest room before sleep, getting off on the idea that he can cum in a house that you live in, smothered by the sheets you meticulously picked out to match the walls of the room. Moaning for you, practically crying for you to let him do it all.

Have you really done it this time? Gone off with some man? Are you getting railed right now in some hotel, or car, or someone’s shitty man-cave? God, his mind is racing, both aroused at the fact that you must be horny to be constantly wanting to go out like this, but equally as devastated because like…he’s right here.

Who the fuck cares if you babysat him? He’s a man. No longer that child who sprayed cheese in your hair or dumped salt into the bag of sugar. He’s a fucking man, cooking you dinner when you work, parenting your child, cleaning your house, maintaining your pool and fence….He does everything for you, why the fuck don’t you see it?!

Click.

Jay’s ears perk up instantly at the sound. He sits up on the couch from his depressed slump of scrolling through his phone, quickly fixing his hair and clearing his throat.

In you stumble, right into the little entryway table with a whisper-screams “Shit, fuck–”

Jay looks at your state before standing to his feet and rushing to you, helping you balance on your feet despite your footing not quite being grounded even with his help. You lean on him closely, letting out an alcohol scented sigh.

His nostrils flare as he holds his breath, feeling your tit press against his arm, smelling the drinks, the sweat, and the dulled perfume on you. Then, a hint of something else. Musk.

You’ve been with a man.

He holds back a gesture at the way you lean on him. Nothing more he could want at this moment but to hold you tightly and tell you that he’s got you, despite the panic in his stomach at the way he sniffs out another man. Out of lust, love, desperation, frustration. This is the closest you’ve been to him for this long. You feel clammy and cold, a clear indication that you drank far, far too much. Your tank top is sticking to you, your eyes are a bit glassy–

“You’re late.” He says shortly.

“Late?!” You raise your voice before looking at him with drowsy eyes, furrowing your brow. “I don’t have a curfe-”

“Shh–” He shushes you, helping you get to the living room. “She’s sleeping and you’re going to have her make a fuss about waking up.”

You giggle to yourself as he drops you onto the couch, now aware that yes, you are not a single college student anymore. You’re a single woman. A fucking mother.

You should’ve just gotten a hotel for the night and slept there to dream a little longer.

“Right.” You laugh, slouching, spreading out wide against the couch and trying to fix your gaze on him. “Why’re you still awake?”

Jay fixes his eyes on you, swallowing around a lump in his throat. The way you’re slouching…seemingly forgetting that you’re wearing a skirt and basically flashing your panties at him. God, the things could do to you right now. The things he could get away with if he wanted to. He tries to shake those thoughts for now, and instead, inspects you from head to toe.

He’s never seen you look so relaxed. Chest raising and falling with each breath, hair a little messy, lipstick stains smeared on the outsides of your lip line. He chooses to ignore the faint swell against your neck indicating someone has been sucking on you. But, well, he can’t ignore it. Both his cock and heart aches at the very thought.

“You’ve been kissing?” Jay tries to ask nonchalantly.

“A lot more than that–” You smile, feeling a flush cross your cheeks before the disappointment hits you square in the gut.

Jay watches your face fall, and he mimics it by falling onto the couch and sitting by your head…you know, allowing you to lay your head on him if you want to. You’d probably not notice his arousal anyway, given your state.

“Oh?” He asks gently, the disappointment now showing plainly on not just your face, but his own.

“Thought I was gonna go home with him, turns out he decided to be done after a blowjob in the parking lot.”

Oh, the way his blood boils. Not for the fact that you were used or rejected, but for the fact that you found someone that you were interested in and genuinely intended to leave your home life in his hands for however fucking long. Really? Just gonna leave him here all alone? Like he couldn’t do better for you?

“It’s for the better–” Jay says as he shivers with irritation, struggling to keep his façade up. It’s definitely not what you wanted to hear, and definitely not what you’d have expected to hear from a college guy at all either.

“This happened last time too, except he didn’t even get me to the parking lot.” You huff, unaware of how much you’re sharing right now.

He bites back the anger yet again, inhaling deeply before releasing a calming breath through his nose just to contain it. So…it has happened more than once?

“Why don’t you let me take you out someday?” He says suddenly, well aware that you’ll probably never remember he said it in the first place.

If anything, he’s testing the waters for his own sake. He’d hate himself forever if he didn’t at least take advantage of this moment a little bit.

“Then who will watch my daughter?” You respond in slurred speech, not even comprehending who it is that’s asking you this question right now. Not even thinking about your history with him, or the family ties.

He, on the other hand, is quite entertained by the way you don’t bring the history up like he expected. His cock twitches at it, bumping your head just a bit, not enough for you to notice apparently. Fuck, it would be so easy for him to pull it out right now, and just…tap your lips with it.

Maybe you’d even open your mouth for him.

“I’ll skip class on a Wednesday, we can go while she’s still in daycare.” He continues through an almost-moan, encouraging the conversation to stay positive.

“Jongseong–” You slur before clearing your throat and sitting back up in a dizzy show of how drunk you are. “You know I can’t do that. It’s too weird.”

In all fairness, you know he has like…a thing for you. After all, why else would a college dude be spending his weekends here babysitting your kid? It’s not like you haven’t noticed the way he checks you out before you go out for the night. Why would he do all of this if he didn’t have some sort of attraction to you? Sure, you’re taking advantage of it as best as you can despite how you didn’t recognize him at first.

Despite how deep down, you very well know how attracted to him you are too.

“Only because you make it weird.” Jay rolls his eyes as he looks at you, spreading his legs out to adjust his comfort, noting the way you glance down to his lap and see it. “I’m a grown man–” He starts, spreading his legs wider, pressing his cock against his pants to the point you can practically see the outline. ”you know this.” He continues, trying to be bold now by reaching forward and moving a strand of your hair from your cheek.

“You’ve seen it.”

You freeze, suddenly feeling entirely too sober to be talking about this kind of thing with him. With Jongseong. God, his mother would fucking kill you if she found out he’s in your house while you’re out trying to get fucked by whoever is willing to love you temporarily.

Jay sees you thinking though, and continues to take the advantage now that he’s feeling brave. Now that you’ve seen the twitch in his pants and haven’t moved off the couch, or told him to go home.

“I saw you watching me when I was cleaning your pool, multiple times.” He whispers snidely. “You stopped when you realized who I am. Why?”

“Jongseo–…” You trail off. “You know this isn’t okay. What would people think of me? There are rules, and I will not go down this route with you.”

A rush of air hits your face and suddenly, warmth hits your cheek. You feel him so close, closer than ever before. It’s dizzying. Jay is over you, hovering with one hand ghosting over your hip.

“You want to though, don’t you?” He gets even closer now, darting his eyes down at your chest and unable to pull them away. “Knowing how good I am with your daughter? How well I clean up? How strong I can be–”

You swallow hard. For a moment, you almost lean into him. You almost melt right then and there, the need for intimacy so heavy inside of you after being left high and dry, knowing that you’d accept it from just about anyone at this point. But– this is Jongseong. You can’t.

You really, really, can’t.

The look of disappointment in his eyes kind of hurts when you’re pushing him away. That playful smirk falling faster than you think your sanity did the day your ex husband left you.

“This–” You pause, realizing all too well how he’s used your drunken state against you for this conversation. “This is your last paycheck.”

“I don’t think so.” The smirk is back now, except…it’s different. “You know I promised her a Barbie dream house next weekend.” He smiles fully now. “She’s a bit attached, you know, even called me dad by accident the other day.”

You’re shocked.

“She…what?”

“You know she’s attached to me already, don’t be selfish.” Jay shrugs at you while rolling his eyes, leaning against the couch again and turning his head to look at you. You try to pretend that you don’t see his hand slightly groping himself. “Guess she misses having a father around. Can’t be too easy for her, especially with her mom going out every weekend trying to fuck guys who would run the second they learn about her.” He ticks his tongue now, as if he’s pitying you more than your daughter.

“Jongseong, that’s not–”

“That’s not, what?”

“That’s not what I’m doing…” You lower your voice to a near whisper, upset that you couldn’t even enjoy the drunken state you came home in, now feeling entirely too sober, and a little sick in the stomach.

“Oh, so you haven’t gotten laid since I’ve been here–” He leans closer again now, trying to resume what he was going to do just moments ago. “They haven’t even touched you, have they?” His hands move to your thigh and presses down as if to hold you in place. “Why?”

“I try not to just sleep with anyone.” You lie, knowing you’d sleep with anyone just to feel wanted for once. And you’re trying to ignore his hands on you right now, trying desperately not to like it. It’s the first time a man has touched you in this house since your husband left you. As expected, you almost feel your knees buckle despite sitting comfortably. “I have to be careful, you know?”

“Mm, I know more than you think.” He leans into you, hovering yet again with his upper half over you as he whispers it. “Don’t need to be careful around me though.” He adds, this time trailing his voice right against your jaw, up to your ear. “You must be so frustrated.” He ghosts his lips there for a moment, waiting for you to push him away, or say something, anything, really.

“Why would I be frustrated?” You lend the smallest of whispers, feeling the goosebumps against your skin rising at the mere thought of giving in just this once.

“Not having anyone to please you.” He adds now, landing a very slight kiss right under your lobe. “Always being used for someone else’s pleasure, maybe?”

You almost nod, feeling weak in your state and thoughts swimming with what if’s, morals, and anxieties. You’re frozen in place despite knowing a simple push would create the distance you need to breathe.

“Your fingers will never be enough, will they?” He continues, essentially chaining you to this couch with his words alone. You can’t help the fight in your head, you need to feel wanted, and you want so badly to feel needed. “I bet you wish someone would love you for all that you are, not all that you have.”

It’s silent as you feel his lips press down again, this time moving his body over you almost entirely. You can feel the couch dip a bit as he places all of his weight on a knee, moving his other leg to stand between yours.

“You must need someone to fill that hole in you by now, right? That pussy of yours?” He continues, his tone a bit more snide now as you give in to his hold with shaky breaths.

And truthfully, Jay has never let himself come on this strong towards someone before. Usually the wives are doing this to him. They’re trying to convince him, encourage him. He’s so fucking horny right now though, with that daze in your eye, your legs spread around his knee, blinking up at him like a cheating wife. As if you want to apologize, as if you need him to forgive you. Need him to make everything better.

“I heard you the other day, you know, talking to your mom–” He smiles, tilting his head to look into your eyes, seeing a small shine in them. “You want another, don’t you?” He continues, moving his lips now just over yours as he, now, presses you firmly against the couch. “You must hate knowing that I’m the only person who can do that for you.”

“God, Jay.” You immediately buckle, not realizing how suddenly he’s not Jongseong at this moment. He’s someone else. He’s Jay.

“Why don’t you go for girls on campus?! Don’t you have parties to be attending on the weekends instead of being here, trying to parent my chil–”

“Lower that voice of yours,” He whispers, eyes now hooded as he looks at you. “You know she’s asleep.”

God, he’s right.

“Besides, why would I want them when I have you right here under me–” He tilts his head. “Looking so disappointed that you like it, too.”

Right then, your moral code shines into the front of your mind at the consideration of giving in.

A weight on one shoulder chanting, “No! What would people say?! What would people think?!”, and then little to no weight on the other shoulder, echoing in a sweet song of “Finally! Someone who will love you! Finally! Someone! Finally!!! Finally!”

You pause, not knowing at all what to do. Your body wants to push him away, even your mind and soul wants you to push him away. But you know deep down, you’d only push him away to see if he will try again. No man has ever tried for you like this, and you need more of it.

To feel desired after so long of neglecting this side of yourself, it’s enough to make a person lose their footing in reality. To give in to just about anyone willing to look at you the way he is right now. It’s the fact that you go out to try and find it, and even with this alone, Jay has satisfied you more than any stranger promising to make you cum.

“I…don’t know what to say–” You stutter. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I do.” Jay smiles, glancing at your lips before meeting your eye again. “Why not hand over the reins and relax for a–” His hand dips under your skirt, cupping your sensitive cunt in one hand alone. “Ah, I knew it.” Then, his other hand finds purchase on your chest, lifting your heavy breast in his hand with a blatant, hard squeeze.

After a sharp inhale you look away from him in shame, afraid to admit it despite the truth of it leaking through your panties and onto his palm.

“Wet.” He smiles, no longer looking at you but flicking his eyes back and forth from between your legs, and to your chest. Still, he fumbles around the wet spot, wanting so badly to lift these fingers to his mouth and taste. He’s fantasized about it, about how you’d taste, how warm it would be, what your pussy would feel like against his fingers–

And just as he’s pushing your panties to the side, pads of his fingers touching right where you need them with his eyes hooded and watching you closely, something snaps.

You push his hand away, only to feel him push back, holding you down with more force, gripping your tit tighter, sliding his fingers in before massaging the slit with a blatant moan on his lips. Then, you try again, shoving him back only to hear him chuckle and continue his antics until– you jump to your feet. It felt too good, too grounding to have him touching you like this. You nearly stumble back over the coffee table, but you manage to stand tall and firm despite the fact that even though your mind feels sober, your body is fucking wasted.

“Jongseong.” You argue immediately, using his name the same way you did when he was a child. “Stop.”

He throws his hands up in defense, raising his brows in surprise.

“I–” He pauses, staring at you. “I thought you were enjoying it, my mistake.”

It’s the fact that you were. You were enjoying it too much, and there would have been no defending your actions if you had given in to the feeling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid. That’s what you are.

Your ex husband was right all along. Out of everything you’ve accomplished since your heart was shattered, ripped to shreds, stomped on, you’d think it would take a lot more to break you.

“You ask for too much.” Your ex husband had said once. “You can’t even stand to be alone for one day.” He had said a year or so later. Small digs on who you are and what you need sprinkled into small arguments, only to come more and more from the lips that you kissed and promised to kiss until you die. Until all of his words were to make you feel inadequate. Until everything he said to you stuck with you, forcing your confidence to bury itself six feet under.

Are you to blame? As it stands, maybe. Why else would you be allowing yourself to consider it? Consider Jongseong, you mean. Never in your life would you have considered him of all people to be the one that you need.

Never in your life would you have thought he’d be interested in a woman like you, in a situation like yours, with a child. Why did that night with him stick in your head more than every single mean thing your ex husband said to you? Why did his words seem more believable?

Because you were drunk at the time? Wet, neglected, and drunk?

Then why is it that you’re sitting here on your day off with your beautiful, bright-eyed daughter rummaging through your purse for whatever catches her eye….and you’re thinking about him? About what he's doing right now, how he’s feeling, if he’s eaten.

Why is it that you’ve gone the entire week ignoring his texts, asking if you need him to come resume his job as babysitter? Why the fuck do you want to accept after how he took advantage of your state of mind? After he came onto you and tried to manipulate you?

Despite all of his words ringing true in the back of your head. That was a dirty tactic he pulled on you. Yet, still…you want him back, and god fucking dammit you could cry knowing your daughter called him “dad.” You hadn’t believed him at first, but after this week alone it slipped from her mouth several times.

“He’s not your dad, baby, that’s just Jay.” You remember correcting her more than once, and all she responded to you with was a confused expression.

“Why not?” Is what her little voice gave back to you after her child-like brain decided it was fed up with you correcting her very right assumption of the guy who promised her the Barbie Dream House.

Why not?

Well, if you could have an adult conversation with a five year old it would be much easier to answer that. Because he sprayed cheese in your hair. Because you were seventeen and his babysitter when he was ten years old. Because you ogled him without recognizing him as your pool boy. Because of a lot of things.

“Uncle Jay.” You finally corrected her again.

She shook her head, and continued doing and saying as her little mind pleased. It made you miss having a father around for her though. You think she needs it more than you do.

And that fucking Barbie Dream house is what brings Jay back.

Right at your doorstep today, with a gentle knock to the door and a timid smile on his face. He doesn’t even look at you when you open the door, and instead crouches down in front of you with the big, flashy box. He ignores you, tilting himself to look past you and straight at your daughter.

You hold your breath when she runs to Jay, arms spread open and laughter shrieking in your ears. Your heart aches so much at this moment.

Given your work schedule, you’d never gotten to see them interact much. He always came over as she was eating her breakfast, and you always came home after she was put to bed. You guess it’s fair that they have a bond now. She doesn’t even run at you like she does for Jay. In fact, the only time she ever did was when she had a bad day at daycare and had a tummy ache.

She runs to you when she needs you, but she runs to Jay like she wants to. Like she genuinely is attached to him, and his kind smile, and his eyes, and probably that warm embrace that you’ve never let yourself experience.

You watch them, not allowing yourself to melt at the moment because you did not invite him over, nor did you give consent to bring that fucking doll house here. But you can’t say no now, as she clings to his leg when he stands up and looks at you with an almost irritated glint in his eye.

His eyes trail all over you briefly too, as if checking for any new spots or marks that a man could have put on you. You feel seen, dipping your head to not meet his eye and scratching the back of your neck as if to hide a spot there. There isn’t a mark, it’s just…fear? nervousness? anxiety?

And then he hauls the box in for her without saying a word to you. You watch him hard now that his back is turned. His voice sounds so loving when he speaks to your child as if she’s an equal. Plopping down on your living room floor with her and opening the large box.

He Ooo’s and Aahhh’s with her as he pulls each piece out, connecting the walls, the doors, handing her little things to help him with. And both of them are so focused on the task at hand to create a safe space for all of her abused barbie dolls that… you feel invisible.

For the first time ever in front of them both, you feel like you are nothing but a ghost. That he is the single parent. As if you’re forgotten, less loved, not wanted, not even needed.

There’s a bubbling in your gut when you tear up, reminding yourself that what Jay did that night was probably just, well, he’s a man. Men aim to fuck at all times usually, and you guess you should have expected it at one point from him because, again, you’re aware that he’s attracted to you. Even more aware now.

But the way you feel right now outshines that. He’s ignoring you to keep your child happy. She is ignoring you because it seems Jay does a better job at it than you do.

And, well, he’s not holding you down, whispering things in your ear, letting out frustrated little sighs at your drunken or drowsy words now. So, you say nothing. All you can do is go to the kitchen and prepare a snack, trying to force the tears to stay inside of you with quiet sniffles, hoping you can join their little picture perfect moment so that you can be helpful too.

Your heart swells when they both look at you as you present a plate of snacks. You have to hold back tears again at the way their eyes shine, thanking you for the snacks. Jay’s eyes stay on you a bit longer though, as if saying “See? See what you’re making her go without?”

You do see it.

But…it can’t be him. As much as you wish it could be, you just can’t. There has to be another man out there just like him, one that doesn’t have a history with you that would cause whispers and questions. There has to be.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

That moment you witnessed seems to have solidified Jay’s place in your home. Whether it be for babysitting or simply so your child can see him when she’s asking for him (which is often.) It’s kind of an issue, actually, because now the choice isn’t yours anymore and it appears Jay knows that.

You hate that you’re forced to see him for what he is now. How he proves himself over and over again to be the man you need. The issue is that you still don’t want it to be him. The bigger issue is that he’s breaking down your walls, doing little things for you, looking at you with those dark eyes– your resolve cracks and reminds you every time he’s here that maybe it could work. Maybe you’ll give him a chance. Maybe you won’t have to go out anymore looking to fill a void that no one else fits into.

It’s the way that now, you can’t help but to compare him to your ex husband. The man who you loved for so long, who you genuinely thought you’d spend your life with happily and safely. Now, compared to Jay, your ex seems like…nothing. Like a little crack in your resolve. He was older than you by just two years, took care of you for so long, impregnated you, and slowly but surely throughout all that time grew to resent you too.

You still don’t know why, but perhaps it’s just because you were growing into your own. You were becoming more independent, though he never had the capability to realize just how much you depended on him during the very time he left you.

“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” Your ex had said to you on that fateful morning.

Your belly was big as you tried to waddle up to him when he said that. You can’t help but think back now and wonder how pathetic you must have seemed when he yanked his arm from your grip, especially due to the difficulty of your pregnancy already. You were sick through most of it, only having a few good days here or there where that pregnancy glow would make your ex husband second-guess himself.

The slam of the door after that was more exhausting than the months of pregnancy you’d gone through. It felt loud, so loud you could hear it vibrate throughout your whole body. You recall falling to the floor and carefully holding your stomach. It’s like all of the heartbreak pooled there. The loss of your husband three weeks before he got to meet the child he was supposed to love. Her little heart must have been breaking inside of you too.

Double the pain.

And then you were mending yourself on your own. Going into labor early from stress, your family helped take care of you more than her. You were needier. You were broken.

And never, fucking ever, did you think you’d find yourself sitting comfortable in your lavish home realizing that your ex-husband didn’t deserve all of that pain from you. He left you for that girl, and not two months later did she leave him.

Never did you think you’d find yourself thinking about Jay as a replacement either. Well, not a replacement, but like, maybe just…he’s the idea of a perfect dad if you pay attention to how your child talks about him. How they act together. How she cries for him before bed when he’s not there, asking you why you don’t read to her the way Jay does. Why don't you sing to her the way he does? Why don't you use the same voices for her dolls? Why you don’t cut her food like he does, why you don’t do this or that.

That’s what makes it click the most you think. The fact that Jay has given her something you never can. The love of a father. It doesn’t even feel like he’s babysitting at this point, he’s parenting, teaching her lessons, bandaging small boo-boos, fixing her hair,…cooking dinner, cleaning…existing here like he belongs.

Jay has done more for your daughter than your ex husband ever could have, more than you could have done for her too, you think.

Even now, as you come home night after night and see him, you struggle to see him as anyone that isn’t who your daughter needs. Maybe who you need.

His summer semester is coming to an end too, and it’s hard to see him as a college student now. He really does coursework and everything that needs to be done at your home all within a single work day? With no complaints at all? Lately, you’ve noticed that he’s been more focused on studying when he babysits too, but still your daughter listens to him better than she listens to you.

Yet, still, it’s like you’re avoiding each other as you go through the motions, but you notice him more. You feel more discomfort because of it, mostly because you know your resolve about this is breaking. There’s a fear inside of you that revolves around him.

What if you missed your chance?

What if it does end up being a mistake if he still wants you?

You don’t know what to do, but you know you want him.

Some nights, Jay does sleep over due to exhaustion and you don’t even ask him to leave because you know he’s not doing it to try anything. The avoidance is loud. Lately, you come home from work and there he is, sitting up with his laptop on his lap but sound asleep, softly snoring. Each time, you remind yourself of how he’s sacrificing his study time to babysit. You know your child can be distracting and needy when she wants something too, but he doesn’t complain even a little bit. The least you could have done was bring him a blanket, which you did. And you woke the next morning to find him curled up on the same couch, laptop toppled over onto the floor.

Small, gentle acts of kindness towards each other but never face to face. You’ve woken to fresh coffee countless times, made exactly the way you like it because you know he’s watched you make it yourself. You’ve come home to re-stocked items, like milk and eggs, laundry detergent, and even toothpaste. It’s nice, and a small indication that he doesn’t resent you. Even through face-to-face avoidance on your part.

Tonight seemed different though, compared to all of the other nights when you can’t go out. You walked through the door to the smell of dinner and your child still awake, sing-songing at you the moment you walked in.

“Dad said I can stay up late!”

You quirk a brow, her calling him that now becoming a regular occurrence to the point it goes through one ear and out the other for you. You recall discussing her bed time though, with absolutely no exceptions.

“Did he now?” You hug her before taking off your coat, walking with her to the kitchen where you find Jay, placing down a small plate on the table with cartoon characters on it, right in front of two bigger plates with bigger portions of delicious looking food placed neatly on it.

Your heart swells, but your anxiety grows twice as big alongside it. This.

This is what you’ve wanted for so long. This is what you never thought you could find. So, why is it that you still have push-back in your mind? Despite knowing that Jay has proven himself time and time again, you want to argue?!

Perhaps it’s because you like the way he tries. Maybe you’re not ready to lose that feeling of being chased in some way, of being begged to let him stay. Maybe it’s because you begged your husband, desperate for him to keep you, but he left anyway. It feels like Jay gives you power over yourself, over your love-life, over everything, really.

And if you were to actually accept his advances, even just a dinner on your table, what if he stops? What if he gets bored once he gets what he wants? After all, he’s still young, you can’t truly imagine he wants to do this forever.

Not with you, and not with your daughter either.

“What’s all this? Isn’t it a bit late for her to have dinner?” You question him instantly, anxiety bubbling up out of assumption alone.

“We had a small snack a few hours ago.” Jay reassures you. “I finished my exams and had a burst of energy to celebrate, besides, it’s a Friday–” He goes to pull out a chair for you. “You don’t need to be up early either. A late dinner every now and then never hurt anybody.”

The way this is the first time the two of you have had a face-to-face conversation since…that night. His voice calms you, and that’s scary.

You huff, happy because you could easily melt into this chair and pretend you’re having a family dinner, like you always wanted, like you never rejected a touch from him that you desperately wanted. You could just play along and pretend Jay is everything you need. Except, it wouldn’t even be pretending at this point. The whole idea of him has changed. But, again, that anxiety. You still have that little voice holding you back, no matter what you want, or what you need, you fear it’ll be ripped from you again if you were to let yourself be weak for another person.

“I’m really tired, Jongseong.” You explain, walking past the kitchen and towards your bedroom. “Thanks for dinner but I’m not too hungry and I just want to lay down.”

And with that, he watches you leave. No real appreciation, no congratulations on him finishing his exams, not even a kiss to your child’s forehead. Is he still expected to be the one to put her to sleep?

Why is he even here? Why did he do all of this?

His patience is running dry.

So, he eats with your child as your plate goes cold and he leaves it there. If you can’t even handle a dinner at the table with the person who cooked it, you can deal with your own fucking plate. Throw away your own fucking food, wash your own fucking dish. And if you can’t tuck your child into bed, he’ll do it, but you can shove that fake ass exhaustion right up your ass for all he cares.

He knows you’re not exhausted. He’s seen you when you are. You’re just being an asshole to him at this point, trying to appear like you’re perfectly happy with the life you live when your drunken rants prove otherwise. You treat him like everything he does has an ulterior motive. Which, yeah, maybe it does, but he was genuinely excited to have someone celebrate the end of this semester with him. Maybe assuming you’d indulge him went too far. For the first time, he wasn’t doing it to impress you.

By the time Jay gets your daughter to bed, all tucked in with a little tune to fall asleep to, he closes her door and just stands there in the silence on the other side of it.

You must really enjoy being a single mother, huh? This is why too. He always questioned it. You’re so attractive, so well-adjusted. You work hard, your daughter is a sunshine in this world, and you’ve not managed to find anyone to love you yet? He thought he was lucky to be the one getting to spend time with you.

Turns out, you refuse to let anyone in despite Jay knowing, fucking seeing straight through you. You want something from someone. You need it, yearn for it, even. But it’s almost laughable at the way you refuse it.

Excuses, excuses, excuses.

It’s the fucking audacity you have taking advantage of him. You’ve practically led him on. You lend him everything he wants in life. That’s it. You lend it. From flaunting yourself before you go to bars, to exposing all the marks you allow other men to leave on you. Letting him stay in this house, father your child, cook, clean, mend, fix, heal.

From being a faux-father to being minimized to a college student that you used to babysit. He’s offered you relief in so many ways including sexual, and all you fucking do is avoid, deny, fucking reject him. You still go out to bars, later and later you’ll come home with new swells against your skin, but always looking so empty and disappointed. Sometimes he thinks you try to make him jealous. Sometimes, he thinks you want him to try again.

Sometimes, he thinks you get off on the fact that he keeps trying.

And he has tried. Albeit more gently lately, but he has. Small, lingering touches when he hands you your coat to help you get out the door and to work quicker. Starting your car for you before you leave. Fuck, he even opens the goddamn door for you. Anything to make you feel appreciated, respected, and fucking wanted.

The silence is loud in his ears due to the sheer irritation as he drops his head, staring at his feet and knowing it’ll only take a few strides to reach your bedroom. A room he still craves to be in.

He’s raided those drawers by now, because of course he has. Soiling your panties, your sheets, anything that still smells like you when you’re gone for the day, all so he can act normal upon seeing you when you come home. He’s laid in your bed by now too, wondering what it would feel like to have your weight beside him. He fantasized about anything and everything he possibly could in there.

And he’s always warmer. Always cums the hardest with weak, muffled moans as he stuffs your pillows into his mouth to keep quiet. All before cleaning every trace of himself there, closing the door, and wishing he was allowed to exist in there with you.

Right now will be the first time Jay enters your room to your knowledge, and it sucks for him because he has essentially trained himself to get hard every time he opens this fucking door. Still, he composes himself, and it’s a bit of a shock if you’re being honest. You thought he’d go home after this, you were kind of hoping he would after you made it so awkward.

You felt guilty the second you saw his expression fall to your rejection of eating dinner like a big fucking happy family. You want it so bad, you want him so bad.

When you left the kitchen, you immediately went to your room and hopped in the shower, well aware that he wouldn’t follow you. You thought hard while the hot water made attempts to wash away your feelings. Would it have been so bad to just eat with him? With your daughter? With both of them? The way his eyes fell, it burned your heart a little bit.

Still, no answers came to you because you know part of you just wants to see what else he will do for you. Despite the history with him, and despite knowing his entire family would question and scoff at you for it…Is it really so wrong? To want to give him a chance just to see if he’ll leave you too?

Just to see if it’ll hurt when he does it too?

Inviting him to your home almost every day of the week isn’t wrong, right? Forgetting to pay him all those times before, hoping to see him again and get that confidence boost, that wasn’t wrong. Letting your daughter attach herself to him when you swore he wasn’t permanent, no longer having the energy to correct her use of “dad” towards him… none of that is wrong.

It’s all Jay. He’s the one in the wrong for willingly following along, not you. Right?

And as you’re sitting on your bed in your towel, zoning out and staring at your floor, Jay swings your bedroom door open without a single knock, mindfully closes it, and immediately goes off on you.

Somehow, you really expected him to accept your rejection but your heart swells that he didn’t. You don’t think he ever will, and you’re exhausting yourself hoping he’ll prove you wrong.

He’s shown you enough by now. This is what breaks down that wall inside of you, isn’t it?

“What am I doing wrong?” He shoots his first question out in a desperate whisper shout, eyes searing into you before continuing without a single breath. “Because I do everything for her, and i do everything for you, does that really make you so fucking uncomfortable?”

“J–” You try to respond, feeling your skin prickle at the sheer irritation in his expression.

He’s fighting for you.

“Isn’t that what you want?!”

“After everything I do–” He throws his hands up now, running his fingers through his hair as if you make him feel like he wants to rip it out. “After trying to make your life easy while making mine harder, for what? You to not eat the fucking food I made? For you to go to the bar all the time just to come back disappointed like I’m not right here waiting for you to come back?”

“What ar-”

“Don’t ask me any stupid fucking questions, Just answer me.” He drops his hands, stepping up to you, placing both hands on either side of your hips, doing his best not to react to your near-naked body. “Why?”

You lean back, trying to create more distance to try and give him an answer that you don’t even know yourself, but he just keeps closing in. Not letting you escape this time. You’ve never seen him so riled up before, it’s…

Well…

“Because I came onto you? Because I tried to do what no one else will do for you?” His voice shakes when he says it, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. Is he…about to cry?

Only now, seeing him so close with an entirely sober brain do you realize an answer. Maybe not to his question of why, but to the same question you’ve been asking yourself. It’s because of that look in his eye. You’ve never been able to put a word to it, but now with him demanding you explain yourself so closely, you see it.

He’s desperate.

Arguably as desperate as you’ve felt to fill the void. Except, he’s trying to do that for you and you won’t let him out of what? Fucking fear? Hell, at this point the history means close to nothing when it comes to all the new memories he’s made in this home, even without you. The history of babysitting him, the history of your ex husband leaving you. It doesn’t matter.

You think hard, so hard that you feel your eyes burn as you stare up at him. Glancing without intention to his jaw when he clenches it, to his neck when he swallows his words, to his lips, his eyes, the hair falling in his face…and you just–

You reach up, running a soothing hand through his hair to get it out of his face. Then you see those same desperate eyes somehow grow more desperate as he lowers them, leaning into the touch, as if you’ve been starving him the same way you’ve been starved for years. He falls silent too, cutting himself off mid-question just to feel you touch him for the first time.

“I don’t know.” You say, which seems like a better answer than having an excuse. What can you say otherwise? That it’s because it shouldn’t be him? That you’re afraid he’ll realize he’s not ready to settle? To be a dad? He’ll ask why, and it’ll be the same answer you gave on that drunken night. An answer that you no longer care about.

You babysat him when he was a child, but you were still a child too.

You were still a child, and time changes things.

Your ex husband left you, and you’re afraid he will too, especially because he’s so much younger? Who cares?

Your answer seems to fly right past his head though, because he’s still leaning to feel your fingers in his hair, and he’s looking at you as if nothing you say will matter unless you make it hold some weight to him.

“Jongseong–” You pause, scratching right at his nape, uncaring of how you can feel your towel loosening on your body. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Somehow, his name on your lips is what he needed to hear. The tone of it, the rasp in your voice, your fingers in his hair. Actions speak louder than anything the two of you could say right now, and he can’t help it. Nothing can stop him, not even you at this point.

He hasn’t done anything wrong you say? It’s because he fucking knows what you need.

You inhale deeply, holding your breath when you feel your back hit your mattress, his warm hands instantly taking advantage of your freshly-showered state and tugging at the towel just slightly to let it fall open. You hear a slight breath from him at that moment, an inhale. There, he climbs onto the bed, nudging himself between your legs and trapping you there under him, both hands holding your arms down.

Like he’s afraid you’ll reject him again.

“You’re going to let me take care of you now.” He demands, though to him it sounds more like a plea solely due to the fact that he’s so fucking turned on it’s unreal. That feeling of when your fingers were in his hair? Seeing your naked body? Unshaved pussy? Being in this fucking room with you? It throws him into overdrive, especially with the way you just lay there blinking up at him in surprise. The anger melting away only amplifies it more.

How could you do this to him? Genuinely, how could you have let him fucking suffer for you like this?

Still, you blink up as if you’re a deer caught in headlights and it makes his heart thump against his ribcage. Your eyes are so bright, that glint of sadness he had seen so many times isn’t there right now. And there’s so much adrenaline inside of him, like he needs to move fast before you change your mind again. You’ve not let him do this for some fucking reason or another and now you’re just laying here for him.

There, with your entire body on display, and you appear to be docile. Fucking obedient? Like he always knew you would be if you’d just drop the fucking act?! You were meant for him and him alone, and he’s going to show you why.

In all honesty, you’re tired of denying yourself by now. From the moment you saw him that day cleaning your pool for the first time, you’ve wanted him on some level. It wasn’t an emotional attachment, but a hope, a fantasy for you. And when you recognized him, you were more impressed with him than embarrassed. You tried not to let your eyes wander out of guilt, out of feeling like a pervert.

And then, that day when he came onto you, he was just a man to you. Your faux guilt kept you from letting him, and your hope to be chased kept you from it too. As if you’ve never pleasured yourself to the thought of him, shamefully in this very bed. As if you’ve never called out his name with a silent breath. If you keep going at this point, you’ll lose him before ever knowing what he could really be for you.

This is his last ditch effort to beat you at your own game, and you’re ready to lose.

So, now, you let yourself get lost in him. In his eyes and the way he pleads and makes his demands. He probably doesn’t recognize his strength against you right now, or how much it’s turning you on. With the way he has both hands on your wrists, probably bruising them, and there’s nothing you could do even if you wanted to. His weight holding you down feels better than you imagined.

After so long, with so many failed hookups where you’ve told them of your daughter and all they’ve done in return is get their orgasm then leave…Jay. He wants to take care of you?

He wants to…give you what you need?

Fuck, you know he can. That’s the fucked up part. He’s proved it so many times to you in so many ways. You’ve watched him, the way he moves and acts around you. He’s exactly what you need. You pushed him to this point, where his sanity is on the brink of crashing. Taking it away from him again feels wrong, because it’s exactly what you want.

And when he presses his leg between yours, he knows.

“Again?” He comments, now releasing your wrist from one hand and running it down, able to slip his fingers right into the slick of your bare pussy. “You’re wet.”

You still just blink up at him with an intake of breath at the pleasure, thoughts running left and right on what to do, finally realizing you don’t want to do a damn thing. He’d do it all if you let him. Clean your house, be a father, fix all of the breaks, make you wet.

And you just feel him, the way his fingers play around with what he does to you. You can practically feel his confidence rise at the way you spread your legs a bit more, as if to give him more access. When you look at him, his expression remains harsh, but slowly he moves himself down, lips brushing over one of your nipples while keeping eye contact.

Still that irritated look, like he’s mad you haven’t let him do this before now.

“How many times are you going to pretend like I’m not the one who gets you wet?” He asks before rubbing circles around your clit, tongue flicking in the same way around your nipple. “Like I don’t have a right to take care of you?”

Your breath is still caught in your throat, trying to be careful about what you say right now despite knowing you can’t speak. You focus on what he’s doing instead, losing yourself to something you’ve not felt in far, far too long.

He’s right. He’s gotten you wet more than once by now. More than he knows.

And goddamn, he knew your tits could bounce, but the way they move without the support of a bra, the plush, soft feeling of your nipple growing erect in his mouth, all for him to bite and pull at. He does it too, listening to the little seething sound of pain from you when he pulls all the way back with your nipple between his teeth. Only to let it fall from his mouth and break eye contact with you to see the jiggle as it falls.

His cock twitches, at everything that you are right now, feeling more pleasure through seeing you like this alone compared to fucking his own fist on your bedroom floor. He notes how your legs squeeze him more at the nipple stimulation than his fingers too, memorizing the way your labia falls open between them. He smirks, flicking his tongue more, quicker.

There. There it is.

A low rumble in your chest falls from your lips. Soft, a moan. A very small, delicate sound.

“You like this?” Jay asks, looking up at you, letting his tongue fall from his mouth again and flicking the erect nub. “When I play with your tits?”

You nod, throwing an arm over your face in embarrassment that this is actually happening. You’re letting him. Already you feel yourself heat up more, even when he takes his fingers away from your clit and instead, uses them to flick your other nipple.

And he does this for a few minutes. Paying special attention to your tits, going back and forth with his fingers and tongue to each bud, trying so hard to not stop just to shove his cock between them and use them the way he’s always wanted. He focuses on drawing out more and more little sounds from you instead, slurping his own saliva from your painfully erect nipples, pulling back, blowing cold air, then warming it up again with his lips. All while simultaneously groping, flicking, and pinching with his other hand.

“Jesus, Jay–” You moan quietly, chest rising and falling as he squeezes and licks against you.

That’s right, say his name. Let him fucking know he’s doing what you like. Jay thinks, feeling his cock weep in his pants as he does it. Wondering just how sensitive you are to be reacting like this to simple nipple stimulation. God, he’s wanted to suck on these for so long, and now you’re letting him. They’re so big, so plush. He wants to fucking cover them with his mouth, he wants to bury his face in them, kiss them all over them.

And if they were to get bigger? He moans at the thought, remembering that conversation you had with your mom. You want another. He bets they’d swell up–Oh, fuck yeah. They’d probably hurt to rub against your shirt. God, fuck, he can’t control his thoughts right now.

Finally.

Fucking finally, he has you and he’s not going to let you run away again.

He doesn’t fucking care if it’s forward. He wants what he wants, you want what you want. That want just so happens to line up. Besides, he’s already proved himself to you, he knows it. If you’re letting him do this, maybe you’d let him stay like this.

“Did they get bigger?” He moans briefly as he swaps to your other nipple again. “So full, so heavy, were they leaking all over you?”

You listen to him, trying not to feel the pit in your stomach bubble with even more arousal at his blatant and dirty words, feeling your clit throb at the stimulation your tits are getting right now.

“Makes my dick fucking throb just thinking about it. Fuck–”

“Let me give you another,” He mumbles now, almost mindlessly before looking up at you with an intense gaze as he bites down, indicating that he’s not mindless about it at all.

“Swell you up, make you glow–”

Oh.

Why is that– why are you dripping?

He hears that moan you let out. Different from the others, almost desperate.

“Mm, yeah.” He encourages it, now allowing his hand to travel back down to witness how much wetter you’ve gotten at those words. So messy, so perfect. “Knew you’d want it raw.”

You can’t help the nod, as it comes before you even process his words solely because you feel his fingers slip inside of you. You haven’t been this wet in so, so long. You want to feel it. To be full again, of anything. Of him.

“Ye-” You start, interrupting yourself with a bite of your lip and your eyes rolling back.

“That’s right mama,” He coos, tilting his fingers up and amplifying the pressure inside of you. “Gonna let me take good care of this pussy, yeah?” He adds, lifting from your tits and ghosting his lips over yours.

He watches you closely, that daze in your eye. God, you look so horny right now. There’s nothing more he wants than to see this time and time again. To let you wake up every morning with his warm cum inside of you, to see your belly swell with his child, to see your tits grow until they hurt.

He’d take care of you. He’d take good fucking care of you.

“Say something.” Jay whispers against your lips, darting his tongue out against your lips, angling his fingers up and making you moan. “Say you want me to give it to you raw.”

You open your mouth, feeling his tongue lick and swallow up that moan you just gave him before you try to compose yourself. You can’t help it, you’re so, so sensitive right now and you can’t help but find it incredibly sexy to be here, laid bare, while he’s still fully clothed.

Like he really is doing this for you. He’s not trying to get his own orgasm and leave. You’re weak and those words of “let me give you another” shines in your head. Weak, you’re weak. You should be thinking about condoms, you should be thinking about the consequences of this.

But you’re not.

You do like it raw.

“Jay–” You stutter as you try to grasp the reality of his words, feeling his fingers repeatedly hit right where you need it. “I’m…not protected.”

He moans. Loudly, before huffing out an irritated groan.

“You must really want it then.” He narrows his eyes at you. “Going out all the time trying to get fucked–”

He plunges his fingers in again, deep, and holds them there as he pulls back to look at you. To really look at you, then he glares.

“You’d really let just some fucking dude give you a baby?”

You repeatedly shake your head.

“No!” You retort, thrusting your hips up. “I just–”

“Mhm,” He pulls his fingers out now, sliding himself down so fast that you can barely comprehend him sucking your clit into his mouth before pulling back in a moan at the taste of you. “If mama wants another, daddy will give her one.” He says now, as if to pacify you.

As if to give you everything.

And you’d argue, really, you would. You want another child so bad, but this is– it’s too soon. You haven’t even established a relationship with him yet. Boundaries haven’t been discussed. His college plan– but fuck it’s not entirely your fault that you’re like, super turned on by the idea of it. To the thought of being so filled with cum that there’s no possible way you couldn’t end up pregnant. An indication that, no matter what, no man at a club could fulfill the arousal for you even if they cared to do it.

You’d never have let them actually fuck you raw.

Jay though…how can you keep telling him no?

How could you reject him again when you want it so badly?

Fuck now, think later.

“Yeah–” You say against your better judgement, hands reaching down to his hair so you can grind up against his mouth, lost to the arousal as you mimic what he referred to himself as. “Daddy?”

You feel his mouth fall slack at that, as if you’re accepting him in full now. You feel your clit hit nothing in his open mouth, but it throbs harder.

He knew you were slightly into him for letting him do this at all, but now, you’re truly accepting it. Like you know he’ll fucking do it, like you want him to fucking do it.

“That’s right,” He moans against your clit as he licks at it, barely able to comprehend your voice calling him that but clinging to it all the same. “Gonna let daddy do it all for you.”

Yeah. You are. You’re gonna let him do it. All of it.

And then, the room is enveloped in quiet moans, more from Jay than from you due to your breath being stuck in your throat. His tongue, licking every part of your sensitive cunt, his hands reaching back up to your tits, fondling, pinching, painfully tugging at them as he moans louder, louder, louder for you to want him.

He presses his hips up and against your mattress as he tastes you, so deeply it hurts his cock to neglect it like this. Each rub feels raw, twitching and pulsing to be let out, to be inside of you, on you, against you. Filling you up with his cum, plugging it in as a promise that you can’t leave him even if you wanted to.

He’s going to fucking do exactly what he said he would.

And only when you feel his tongue lap against your hole do you finally release your breath, “Daddy” coming out in a choked back sob. It breaks him, his body going into overdrive as he pulls back and just– stares at you with wild eyes.

You stare back up at him, knowing that calling him that means something more than a cringe little roleplay kink. It means something deeper to him. He wants to be a dad, a real one.

“Oh yeah?” He finally says, hands going straight to his button and zipper.

You can’t help it, biting your lower lip as you blink up, watching his shoulders move, the veins on his arms protruding as he rushes to pull it out and– oh. You moan at it, the way his heavy, slicked up, cock falls out, heavy, needy.

“Daddy–” You urge him on, knowing that it’s driving him absolutely insane.

“Mhm?” He shuffles himself off the bed, letting his pants drop as he lifts his shirt off of him and fucking glares at your tits. “You want daddy’s cock?” He adds now, shooting his eyes up to you as both of his hands land on your legs.

Your mind goes blank when you feel him slide his hands around to the back of your thighs, pushing your legs forward, curling you in on yourself, forcing your pussy to be out and on display for him.

And you watch him, the way he stares down at it. It’s embarrassing to be so seen right now, not having expected to get fucked open by anyone tonight, let alone him. You probably should have shaved or something, or like, not gotten out of the habit in the first place. But he moans at it, mouth falling open at the fact that you are entirely a fucking woman.

A fucking mother.

The prettiest pussy he’s ever fucking seen let alone tasted.

And he moans, breaking the silence, forgetting only for a moment how long he’s been wanting this. It boosts your confidence more than you’ve ever felt. His reaction to this is more than your ex husband’s reaction to you when you were pristine and borderline pornstar quality.

Jay doesn’t see you as used and neglected, he just sees you. And this. This is the pussy he wants. This is what he wants to put his baby in.

When he flicks his eyes back to you, with that same open mouthed expression, it knocks the breath out of you. There’s so much love in his eyes, or maybe lust, you don’t care. You think you’re matching that expression for him too, because it’s like he can’t hold back anymore. He can’t just sit and look at you anymore.

He just can’t.

And you feel it, his thick head pushing past the tightened, pulsing hole and not stopping. He pushes in slowly, painfully slow, to the point you’re both looking at each other with a slack jaw. Finally. The pain of it, the pleasure, the fucking need you’ve been trying to fulfill.

That look on your face drives him wild too, he knows he has you by now. You like it, you love the way he slides in and makes damn sure you feel it the way he does. Every second of the slide pries you open, and he wants to remember this moment forever. He wants you to fucking remember too.

Wants you to know that no one will ever fit inside of you so perfectly, so deeply.

When he finally bottoms out, he leans forward to keep himself buried deep as he ghosts his lips over yours. He feels the way you try to kiss him, but he pulls back with a confident smirk.

“When was the last time you’ve felt a cock so deep in you?” He whispers hotly, knowing you need not answer. Knowing you won’t answer, not with the way you’re instantly lifting your head and kissing him.

Your pussy pulses around him when you lick into his mouth, the first real kiss sending his heart soaring. He twitches inside of you with each squeeze, and kisses you harder, deeper. And somehow, it brings tears to your eyes.

The way he kisses, the way he makes you feel him. Fuck, the way he makes you feel whole, so wanted, like you’re amazing to him. In more ways than just a body to fuck, but he’s stuck around despite all of your avoidance and rejections. You hope you’re making it worth it.

Fuck, you need to feel worth it to him.

“You’d better not fucking pull out.” You groan through a breath, his lips still kissing you through your words as he finally pulls his hips back, fucking in once.

Hard.

Honestly, could you have said anything else at this moment? He’s trying to make this last, he needs it to last. If you keep fucking talking, saying everything he’s ever wanted to hear–

“Fuck,” He moans, his hands moving up to your cheeks as he licks into your mouth. “You can’t–” He continues, fucking in again, moving your body up with each thrust do to the sheer force of him trying to plunge in as deep as he can. “You can’t fucking say that to me right now.”

You’re seeing stars though, unable to say anything else as your eyes roll back at the way the head of his cock practically kisses your cervix with each push into you. He’s so rough, so desperate for it.

You don’t think he expected you to respond either, with the way he keeps his lips on yours, his body pressed so closely that having your legs to your chest means nothing to him now. Mating press be damned, he’s lost his mind to the feeling, not the aesthetic of being a fucking dad.

Your legs wrap around him instead, and he’s all to happy to feel it. Your legs hug him the same way your arms do, the same way your pussy does, and he’s fucking in love with you.

He braces one hand back against your leg, holding it against his hips as he continues to fuck forward, still at the same pace. Deep and with purpose. Every few seconds the bursts of pleasure run through him, making him shiver and moan into your mouth. Little grunts, near whimpers for you to let him give you the world.

More than this. More than fucking, more than taking care of you, more than anything he could ever possibly give you. He’ll find a way.

And then, you’re clenching hard, matching his near-whimpers except moaning in full pants, babbling and drooling cries against his mouth.

“Mama–” Jay soothes, continuing his pace as he tilts his head back to get a good look at that lost gaze in your eyes. “You’re crying?”

You nod with a laugh, tears rolling down the same way the wet of your cunt slips down your ass. You’ve never felt so good, so fucking full. And for some reason, that does him in. Making it last be damned, he genuinely thinks he’s won you over. He can make it last next time, he can do more next time, he can–

He leans back all the way now, onto his knees as your legs try to hug him back to you, and his eyes go straight back to those tits. The way he made a promise. The way they bounce, slick with his sweat from pressing against you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He grunts in a breath, now quickening his pace and snapping his hips. Pulling out all the way briefly to plunge into your again. “Can’t get any deeper–” He continues, flicking his eyes from your face, to your tits, to that beautiful pussy of yours swallowing him up.

Now his eyes roll back, hands going back to your thighs to push you back into position. No way in hell can he last, not at a pace like this, inside of a woman like you.

“Don’t pull out.” You repeat again in a breath, seeing his face and the way he focuses solely on you. You know he’s going to cum, and you want him to. You want to feel it, every single fucking drop of it.

“Yeah?” He nods his head with laser-focus on your pussy now, staring down as he points tight, short thrusts inside of you. “Momma wants my cum? Hm?”

Oh, he’s fucking gone.

“She likes it?” He continues to talk himself up. “Likes being so fucking full of it? Yeah?”

Goddamn, fuck, he’s insane.

“Yes, daddy!” You whisper-shout, fingers shooting to your clit, other hand raising to your mouth to silence the moans as to not be too loud.

“Fuck, yeah you do.” He lets out a near growl, his voice low and rumbled as he slaps your hand away, pressing hard on your clit with his thumb as he buries himself in you once more and stiffening his abs. “That’s right.”

And instantly upon feeling him pulse, that first spurt of cum painting your insides, you lose yourself with him. Your fingers drop from your mouth and you release a pornographic moan for him, rutting yourself against him, as if to fuck it deeper into you.

It only prolongs the orgasm though, for both of you.

Jay is silent, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure as you pulse and squirt around him, his thumb pressing so hard into your clit, his cock cumming so deep, filling you up so well– He wants to see it. Wants to watch you fall apart for him. Wants to witness the way you let him do this.

And he holds himself there, so hard and so full of pleasure for you. Keeping himself practically impaled against your cervix until your body falls slack. Still, he fucks it into you, holding you in place with a softer moan now. No longer guttural or deep from his chest. His breathing is rough, a soft, near feminine moan leaves his lips as he falls forward onto you.

You wince along with him at the sensitivity, panting, a sweating tangle of a mess the two of you have become. And it’s the fact that it’s the first time you’ve ever gotten off at the same time as someone else. You feel…soft.

Your hands find their way to his hair as his face squished against your tits while he regains breath, not daring to move his hips because your pussy is too warm to leave right now. You brush the sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes, running your fingers all the way back to his nap, and then slowly down his back to rub and scratch.

He shivers at the feeling, humming the same feminine-tone he had released previously. And all he can do is hear your heart thumping against your chest, even through these soft tits of a pillow he’s lying against.

Jay never wants to move again, not from this spot, ever.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Jay mentions briefly after a long moment of silence, looking up at you with his wet hair.

Deep in the night, your food still cold and on the table, you’ve found yourself freshly showered and on your living room couch with Jay’s head on your lap. He made sure to have stayed long enough inside of you to implant…something if it was going to happen. So he didn’t argue a shower, and you didn’t argue letting him join you either.

He had washed you, gently running his hands between your legs with what you can only describe as the softest, most alluring face a man has ever given you. Like he won the lottery, or found the answer to eternal life or something. You repaid him by letting him admire your tits again while you jerked him off, but that’s besides the point.

“Like, I’m not going to leave. I hope you know that.” He adds with a soft groan to your hands still in his hair. His new favorite thing.

You look down at him, hand moving to his cheek as the words hit you in the chest.

There’s anxiety along with happiness, at all of the boundaries and serious conversations that will need to be had now, but still, you feel like you’re glowing when he looks at you.

He didn’t even have to say it, and arguably you probably don’t need to say it back either. You think he sees it in you. Even if he didn’t, you think he’d take anything you give to him and cling to it. After all, it only took one time for you to break entirely for him.

“Are you now?” You smile with a chuckle, looking back to the tv and pretending to watch it. “Well, that’s good. Otherwise I’d be making you go get a plan B or something.”

His eyes narrow at you.

“Like hell I’d let you, even if I didn’t love you.” He groans. “But I do, so don’t ever say that shit again.”

You chuckle, feeling the calm in your home that once felt so chaotic. It’s quiet now, both inside and outside of your head.

“Congratulations, by the way.”

He looks at you with question, quirking a brow.

“For finishing your finals, I mean.” You smile, going back to petting through his hair and feeling like you’re on top of the world, despite what you assume to become half of your world lying his head on top of you.

“Oh, right.” He smiles, now turning his head to watch the tv. “I probably failed them.”

You don’t believe that, but even if he did, you think you could be what he needs too. He wouldn’t have to work if he didn’t want to.

If he’s really in love with you, all he’d have to do is…not leave.

“Are you sure you want to be having these conversations with me? You can just call it a hook-up.” You finally say, hoping he means it, knowing it breaks your heart a bit to give him an out. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m going to trap you here just because I’m a little smitten too.”

Jay glares, blinking up at you.

“I literally just tried to put a baby in you.”

That’s fair.

“And you’re not going to run off? Get cold feet?”

“Can you stop doubting me and just let me do what I want for once?” He argues playfully. “Do you even know how much that barbie fucking dream house costed me? I couldn’t run even if, for some stupid ass reason, wanted to. I love her too.”

Silence for a moment.

“Maybe even more than I love you.”

You really, really, want to believe him.

So, you do. ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・ please remember to like and reblog! feedback would be lovely too, of course ; 3 ; i'm not below begging.

2K notes View Post

hoonpalettes

9 months ago

au where sunghoon thinks he's cupid (cupid is so fucking dumb 😡😡😡)