why are almost all the smut with sunghoon just him being ruthless and just railing into his gf HAVE YOU SEEN THAT MAN ??? I NEED TO FEEL HIM UP!!! HAVE HIM LAY ON ME LIKE A WEIGHTED BLANKET!!! HELL TIE HIM UP IN SATIN RIBBONS AND STARE AT HIM!! HIM BEING A DOOFUS IS A BONUS!!!
Also I just found out it was your birthday recently. I'm so late but happy birthday beloved! I hope you know that you're very loved 🩷
— 🧁 anon (sorry i got carried away with my impulsive thoughts about hoon)
i wanna tie him up now.
warnings: dom!reader, light bondage, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t.), creampie, body worship, praise, use of petnames, strong language.
you have spent months watching the internet reduce park sunghoon to a sharp-eyed, ice-cold dominant man who pins people down and wrecks them without blinking.
but you know better than that.
because the sunghoon who comes home to you is the one who trips over nothing in the hallway, who apologizes to the dining chair when he bumps into it, who gets so flustered when you stare at him too long that the tips of his ears turn pink. he is all handsomeness, and a little awkwardness.
tonight you decide you are done letting the rest of the world write him wrong.
he is already half-asleep on the couch when you walk in, still in the black sweatpants and oversized white t-shirt he changed into after schedule. one long arm is thrown over his eyes, and his socks don’t match. the second he hears your keys he peeks out from under his arm, and the smile he gives you is so soft and sweet it makes your chest hurt.
“you’re home, baby,” he mumbles, voice thick. he starts to sit up.
you stop him with a hand on his chest.
“stay.”
sunghoon blinks, confused but obedient, and slowly sinks back down. you climb over him, straddle his hips, and just look at him. really look at him. the way his collarbones sit under the loose collar of his shirt. the little mole near his throat. the soft parting of his mouth when he’s caught off guard. his hands hover in the air like he doesn’t know where to put them.
“you can touch me, hoon,” you tell him.
he rests his hands on your thighs, careful, thumbs stroking once like he’s still asking permission. you lean down and kiss him slow. he makes a small sound against your mouth, the kind he always tries to swallow. you don’t let him. you kiss him until his fingers flex on your legs and his breathing goes uneven.
when you pull back he looks dazed already.
“tonight you’re going to let me feel you,” you say quietly. “all of you. and you’re not allowed to rush or flip me over or try to take over. got it?”
sunghoon’s ears go red.
“…got it.” you take your time undressing him.
first the shirt, pushed up slowly so you can kiss every inch of stomach you reveal. he is ticklish just under the ribs: when your mouth lands there he lets out a helpless little laugh and squirms, and the sound is so cute you have to press your forehead against his skin and smile. you bite him gently for it. he yelps, then laughs again, then goes quiet when you lick over the same spot in apology.
you make him sit up so you can pull the shirt all the way off. the second his arms are free he tries to cover his chest like he’s suddenly shy about being looked at. you catch his wrists and pin them lightly to the back of the couch.
“don’t hide.”
“you’re staring so hard,” he mumbles, eyes darting away. “it makes my skin feel weird.”
“good weird or bad weird?”
“…good. it’s embarrassing but it feels good.”
you reward him with another kiss, deeper this time, and you can feel the exact moment his body melts under yours. when you finally let his wrists go he leaves them where you put them for a few seconds too long, like he forgot he can move.
the sweatpants come off next. you drag them down his long legs inch by inch, kissing the inside of one knee, the soft skin of his inner thigh, the sharp cut of his hip bone. sunghoon is already hard by the time you get them off completely, cock resting against his stomach, and the sight of him all spread out and pink and trying not to squirm is better than any ruthless fantasy the internet ever sold you.
you leave him in just his boxers for a while longer, because the way the fabric tents is unfair and you want to enjoy it. you press your palm over him, feeling the heat, the twitch. he jerks like he’s been shocked.
“you’re so sensitive,” you murmur.
“you’re touching me like you’re studying for an anatomy test,” he complains, but his voice is shaky. “it’s a lot, babe.”
you smile, climb off him, and go look for the things you prepared earlier.
the satin ribbons are pale blue, soft as water, bought weeks ago on a whim because you kept imagining them against his skin. sunghoon’s eyes go wide when he sees them.
“oh.”
“yes, oh.” you kneel beside him on the couch again. “hands.”
he offers them without real hesitation, though his throat works when you start wrapping the first ribbon around his wrists. you tie them together loosely enough that he could get free if he wanted, tight enough that the satin bites pretty against his skin. you do the same to his ankles, not spreading him open, just gently binding them so he can’t easily flip or crawl away. when you’re done he is a pretty picture of restrained limbs and flushed cheeks.
“you look…” you trail off, sitting back to stare.
“ridiculous, i know,” he finishes for you, voice small.
“so pretty,” you correct. “like a gift i get to unwrap.”
you straddle him again, this time settling your full weight on his hips. sunghoon lets out a punched-out breath at the pressure. you lean down until your chest is flush against his, until every inch of you is blanketing him, and just rest there. his bound hands flex against his stomach. his heart is hammering so hard you can feel it through both your shirts.
“you’re like a weighted blanket,” you whisper against his throat. “a very pretty weighted blanket.”
sunghoon makes a broken little sound that is half laugh, half moan. “i can’t even hug you back properly, this is ridiculous.”
“i know. that’s the point.”
you stay like that for a long time, simply lying on top of him, breathing him in, feeling the rise and fall of his chest under yours. every so often you roll your hips in a slow, lazy grind and feel him twitch hard between your legs. his thighs shift restlessly under the ribbons. he keeps turning his face into your hair like he needs somewhere to hide.
when you finally sit up again his lips are parted and his eyes are glassy.
you undress yourself slowly, watching the way his gaze tracks every new reveal. when you’re naked you take his boxers off too, careful around the ribbons, and then there is nothing left between you. you settle back down, skin to skin, and the noise he makes is so wrecked you feel it in your teeth.
you spend what feels like forever just feeling him up.
your hands mapping the soft insides of his arms. your mouth on his nipples until he is squirming and whining that it’s too much. your fingers tracing the v of his hips, the sensitive skin right above his cock, never quite giving him enough pressure. you kiss his wrists above the satin. you bite the place where his shoulder meets his neck and suck a mark there while he pants open-mouthed at the ceiling.
“please,” he finally cracks, voice high and embarrassed. “i feel like i’m going to die. you’re being so mean and so nice at the same time and i—”
you wrap a hand around him and stroke once, slow. his sentence dissolves into a moan.
“i’ve got you,” you promise.
you work him with your hand until he is trembling and leaking all over your fingers, then you shift up, sink down onto him in one long slide that makes both of you choke on air. sunghoon’s head thumps back against the couch cushion. his bound hands strain. the ribbons look indecent against his flexing forearms.
you don’t bounce. you don’t ride him hard. you just sit there full of him, rolling your hips in tiny, deep circles, hands braced on his chest so you can feel every shaky breath. every time he tries to thrust up you put more of your weight on him until he stills, overwhelmed by the pressure and the heat and the way you keep staring at his face like you are cataloguing every micro-expression.
“you’re doing so well,” you tell him. “just taking it. letting me feel all of you.”
sunghoon’s eyes go shiny. “i’m not going to last if you keep talking like that.”
“then don’t. it’s okay.”
you lean down again until you are once more a living weighted blanket on top of him, chest to chest, mouth at his ear, and fuck him in short, grinding rolls that keep him buried deep. the angle is perfect for you. for him it seems to be devastating. he keeps making these punched-out little sounds like he can’t believe how good it feels to be held down and used so gently.
when he comes it is with a surprised, almost whiny moan, hips jerking weakly against the ribbons as he spills inside you. the feeling of him pulsing pulls you over right after. you clench around him and ride it out in slow waves, still blanketing him, still pressing kisses to the damp side of his neck while he shivers through it.
you stay on top of him until his breathing evens out. only then do you reach down and untie the ribbons, massaging the faint marks left behind. the second his hands are free sunghoon wraps both arms around you and rolls you carefully onto your sides, still buried inside you, still half-hard, and buries his face in your throat with a long, exhausted sigh.
“i liked that,” he mumbles, voice completely wrecked and a little shy. “a lot. you can… do that again. whenever you want. the ribbons. the staring. the crushing me to death. all of it. please, do it again.”
you slide your fingers through his sweaty hair and smile.
“i know, baby. i know.”
he is quiet for a moment. then, softer.
“…next time can i at least get to hold your hand while you ruin me?”
the silky question is so him that you start laughing, and after a second he does too, the sound bright and embarrassed and warm against your skin.
you press a kiss to his temple and hold him tighter, letting his full weight settle over you this time, and decide the internet can keep the cold, fabricated version of him.
this one —in which he’s soft, flustered, ribbon-tied, and currently trying to figure out how to kiss your jaw without crushing you — is all yours.
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☆ spider-man! sunghoon x single mother! fem! reader
☆ summary: being a single mother was hard, especially when you lived in such a bustling, yet crime-ridden city. as a mother you personally dislike spider-man, even if your toddler son was obsessed with him. thank goodness, you have your best friend, sunghoon, to help you out at times. but little do you know, that same best friend of yours was spider-man. uh oh!
☆ genre: spider-man! au, friends to lovers, reader is a single mother, riki is your kid lol (can be interpreted as either adopted or biological), baddie reader alert! , down bad! + protective! sunghoon, slow-burn ish/very subtle romance
☆ warning(s)? minor violence
☆ word count: 16.9k words
☆ based off of "head over heels" by tears for fears, also i hope this reads as comic-booky lol
reblogs and feedback is appreciated!
"Sunghoon, is it just me or is Spider-Man the worst thing that's ever happened to this city?"
Sunghoon dropped the kitchen knife in his hand, the one that he was currently using to dice a few carrots.
Clunk!
The man looked over his shoulder to where you were.
It was only a few minutes ago that you came back from work— your 9-5 office job. The moment that your apartment door slammed shut, you kicked off your god-awful shoes, threw your keys aside, and made your way to the kitchen, where you found Sunghoon peacefully already making dinner.
It wasn't abnormal for Sunghoon to be casually in your apartment. In fact, it was more than ordinary.
Sunghoon was a good friend, someone that you had an infinite amount of trust in. Sometimes, your boss liked to fuck you over and make you work overtime, and sometimes your coworkers were so insufferable that all of your energy was spent, so it was convenient that Sunghoon would hang around your apartment and watch over it, and when the time came, make you dinner.
He never minded it. He actually quite enjoyed it. A lot.
Especially because house-sitting came with an extra responsibility: taking care of your son, Riki.
You were a single mother with a full-time job. Of course Sunghoon wouldn't mind taking some of the load off your back.
Currently, you sat at your kitchen table, flopped over yourself. You were still in your work clothes, your face still made up. Your feet ached, and your eyelids felt heavy.
You never questioned why Sunghoon had so much time on his hands, enough time to babysit and house-sit for you.
"Y-Yeah," Sunghoon answered, clearing his throat. "The worst."
Yes, he did have a job. Yes, his job had relatively short work hours. Yes, it paid pretty well.
And it was because Sunghoon was Spider-Man.
But you didn't have to know that.
"Riki's been napping since he got home from daycare," Sunghoon changed the subject. "He wouldn't stop calling out for you, so I had to show him a picture of you for him to fall asleep."
At the mention of your son's name, you perked up. Almost as if all of your tiredness melted away, you jumped to your feet, disappearing into the hallway.
Sunghoon couldn't help the grin that seeped onto his face when you came out with Riki, your one year-old son scooped up in your arms. From the kitchen, he could hear you coo at your son's sleepy face, giggling to yourself as Riki clutched onto you, digging his face into the crook of his neck.
"Riiiikiiii-yaaa!" you drawled, your voice sounding brighter. "I missed you, baby."
Sunghoon laughed, nearly chopping off his finger when Riki babbled some incoherent string of sounds, still sleepy from his long afternoon nap.
You brought Riki into the kitchen, sitting him down onto his baby-chair.
Sunghoon listened quietly, his attention directed at making the best meal possible, as you chattered with your son.
There was something so joyful about hearing you gush over Riki's every attempt to pronounce literally any coherent word, squealing when he managed to say, "dog."
"Mama!" Riki exclaimed, making grabby hands at you. From his peripheral vision, Sunghoon could see you melting, instantly scooping your son back up again, peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses.
One of things that Sunghoon loved about you: your endless devotion to your son.
You'd lay down your life for Riki, and it was one of the most loveable things about you.
"Hoo!" Riki laughed. "Hoo!"
The second thing that Sunghoon loved about you? Your son himself.
"Sunghoon, Riki wants you," you said, a smile in your voice. Riki couldn't pronounce Sunghoon, or even Hoon, so he instead opted for the much easier option: 'Hoo.'
Sunghoon instantly dropped his kitchen utensils, quickly washing and drying his hands. You hoisted up your son, carefully placing him into Sunghoon's arms while still having a gentle hold on him.
Sunghoon took the child.
Riki was a beautiful child. Sunghoon had spent a lot of time with him, to the point that he grew very fond of him. If there was something that he and Riki had in common, it was their love for you.
The three of you stayed like that for a few pulses: Sunghoon embracing Riki, while you stood close by, your hands still holding onto Riki.
Sunghoon could see both the tiredness and love in your eyes, and the youthful glimmer in Riki's chubby face.
There were moments like this, where you and Riki were simply close to him, relying on him for whatever support he could give, Sunghoon wished it could last forever.
Then, the three of you sat down to eat.
The rest of the night was quiet. You bathed Riki while Sunghoon prepared his clothes and diapers, and at the end, the two of you tucked Riki in.
"Good night, Riki," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
You were already at the doorway, fingering the light switch, when Sunghoon's eyes glazed over Riki.
"Good night, kiddo," he said quietly, so quiet that even Sunghoon couldn't hear himself, before ruffling Riki's hair.
"So, how was work?"
Perhaps, one of Sunghoon's favorite times of the day was after dinner, after you both washed up and Riki was in bed.
The two of you liked to hang around your living room, and just talk. It wasn't like you had any good work friends to talk to, but you didn't mind. After all, you had Sunghoon.
It was another one of those especially stressful and hectic days at work, so Sunghoon brought out a bottle of champagne.
"So bad," you huffed, reclining back on your couch, throwing an arm over your eyes. "So fucking bad."
Sunghoon nudged you with his foot, handing you a glass of sparkly champagne. Then, he rested at the head of the couch, gently taking your head into his hands and placing it onto his lap. His lanky fingers made his way to your shoulders, pressing down onto them. Slowly, he began to massage you.
"What happened?"
You groaned, sinking back into the warmth that was Sunghoon's fingers. "My fuckass boss. Decided to make me do the intern's work because I was five minutes late."
"That sucks," Sunghoon murmured, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that made you sigh in relief. "Is he giving you a hard time?"
"Always," you sighed. "I don't know why Choi promoted him. He's got a stick up his ass."
Sunghoon frowned.
He heard you cuss out your shitty boss and coworkers all the time, but he knew deep down, no matter how much you despised them, you would never abandon ship. It was in your blood to care too much, to put your all into something— anything— and expect nothing in return.
And that's what Sunghoon loved so much about you.
That's right, loved.
He threw that word around a lot when it came to you, but he truly meant it.
Sunghoon loved you. He didn't know how, whether it be as a friend, or as a lover, but he loved you and that's all he needed to know.
He loved you since the day you met in your senior years of high school.
He loved you when you cradled his face as he shed hot tears over his heartbreak.
He loved you when you and him snuck around the college dorms, creeping into each other's rooms to enjoy late-night ramen.
He loved you when you met your (now ex-) boyfriend Taehyun, and he didn't even think of loving you any less when you announced that you were having a child with him three years after graduating college.
And he loved you now as you slept peacefully on your couch, curling up against what warmth Sunghoon could give you.
Sunghoon gazed at you.
How could he not resist falling in love with you?
Your eyes kept fluttering as they were shut, your hands randomly twitching at times. You've been working so hard to provide for you and your son, while also sacrificing your time to spend with Sunghoon.
Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts when his phone rang. It was loud, loud enough that Sunghoon jumped and your body instinctively jerked in its place.
"Shit— shit!"
Of course Sunghoon knew exactly where his phone was. He shot a spider web across your house to grab his blaring phone.
Under the dim light, his blue phone screen illuminated the room.
Incoming call... Mr. Lee, it read.
Uh-oh.
Sunghoon was about to take the call, when he noticed you stirring in your sleep.
"Sung...hoon?" you muttered softly. Sunghoon immediately darted to your side.
"Shhh, it's nothing, [Name]," he said gently. He reached out to cup your cheek, to which you nuzzled your face into his palm, softly letting out a sleepy whimper. "Go back to sleep."
After a few moments of stirring, you fell back into your slumber.
Sunghoon glanced at his phone.
Incoming call... Mr. Lee. He couldn't miss it.
Then he glanced back at you, laying on the couch, shivering into yourself.
Fuck it.
Sunghoon scooped you up in his arms, doing his best to be gentle with you. As the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, it wasn't always easy trying to control his spidey senses and heightened abilities. But when it came to you, it almost came naturally.
He carried you to your bedroom, tucking you in with as many pillows and blankets as he could find.
"Good night," Sunghoon whispered. He stared at you for a few moments, his eyes studied your face. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, before swallowing down hard. Would it be weird to give your forehead a kiss? He didn't even kiss Riki, because he didn't feel like it was his right to. Sunghoon sighed. He turned away from you, taking one more glance over his shoulder before he turned off the lights and shut your bedroom door.
(Of course, Sunghoon went to go check up on Riki before he cracked open your apartment window, already in his red and blue glory.)
"Yes, yes, I know, Mr. Lee," Sunghoon muttered into his phone. "I know, I'm already on it. Yes. Okay. Bye."
Sunghoon huffed to himself as he jammed his phone into his pocket, muttering curses under his breath.
A bank robbery on Main Street, nothing to be surprised at. The city's crime-rate had been increasing lately, much to Sunghoon's chagrin. The cold air kissed his masked cheeks as he swung from building to building.
It had become a routine for him. Every night, after listening to you talk enough for you to insist that he went home, or staying up late enough to see you fall asleep, Sunghoon usually found himself doing his night patrol. It was mundane, a slow and conventional routine, but Sunghoon loved it.
Seokmin Lee, or DK, was a man a few years his senior, and also the man employing him. To put it simply, DK was a bit of a mad scientist, and under certain circumstances, Sunghoon and him met. After a spider bite, DK's genetically modified organisms, and a lot of crime-fighting, Sunghoon became Spider-Man.
As Sunghoon peeked over the hedge, he watched the group of burglars sneakily creep out of the dark bank. It was insane to him how poor the security was, but what was more concerning was the cartoonish sack of money the robbers were carrying over their shoulders, and the fact that they were wearing black and white striped shirts. They looked like the robbers in Riki's kiddy cartoons.
If Riki was here, Sunghoon thought, he'd probably start laughing.
In one fell swoop, Sunghoon swung down to the robbers, landing a kick square on one of the robbers' heads.
"Agh—!"
"Good evening, gentlemen," Sunghoon greeted calmly, but his voice was filled with contempt. With one of the assailants knocked down, Sunghoon put his hands on his hips, cocking his head. "What're you up to tonight?"
He gazed at their faces: painted with horror and terror. Why didn't they even think of wearing masks when committing a crime? How dumb were they?
"S-Spiderman?!"
There's a pulse of silence, where Sunghoon just stared at them incredulously, almost expecting some sort of retaliation. Even though he was masked, his expression read, 'Can you guys try to put up a fight at least?'
"Get him!" The robbers yelled, beginning to charge at him.
"Let's not be ridiculous, guys" Sunghoon said exasperated, sighing.
He shot a web at two of the robbers as he attempted to attack him, before wrapping the white ropes around them, sticking them together. Another burglar tried to sneak up behind him, but they were almost pathetically too slow for his spider-like abilities.
Within minutes, Sunghoon had the criminals tied up with spider webs. He'd already called the cops.
"Curse you, Spider-man!"
Really, tonight was playing out like one of Riki's cartoons. It was almost funny.
"Yeah, yeah," Sunghoon waved off, brushing off any dirt on his suit. Before he shot a web up to a building, Sunghoon turned over his shoulder. "Next time, get better outfits. You guys look hilarious."
With that, Sunghoon began swinging away, ignoring the curses from the little criminals, whose cries got smaller and smaller.
The worst part about dealing with crime in this city was the outcomes. People saw that other people were attempting to commit crimes, leading them to want to commit crimes too. It was a never-ending snowball effect. It seemed like every day the crime was just escalating. A few months ago it was just petty theft and the occasional mugging every week. Now it seemed like there was some large scheme every day.
If the helicopters flying overhead and the police sirens weren't telling enough, the entire city was awake once again, trying to catch a glimpse of the commotion down on main street.
Checking his phone, there were already several news outlets trying to get a quick buck from reporting the situation. That was probably one of the worst aspects of crime-fighting: the concerning amount of people trying to profit off of it. They just loved to use Sunghoon's red and blue likeness on the front covers.
Truthfully, Sunghoon didn't care about fame. He couldn't stand the reporters shoving microphones in his face.
He only agreed to be Spider-Man for one reason and one reason only.
Ding!
Sunghoon slipped his phone out of his pocket.
[name]: just woke up i heard there was a robbery
[name]: you went home right? are you safe?
The corners of Sunghoon's lips lifted briefly. You had a specific way of showing you care for him, and it was exactly this.
sunghoon: yeah i'm safe
sunghoon: i just went out to get you more groceries
sunghoon: youre missing eggs and milk
[name]: thank you hoon, you didn't have to
But he did have to.
After all, you were you, and you deserved nothing but the best. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to take some responsibility off your shoulders.
sunghoon: i'll be back in 10
sunghoon: go back to sleep
Sunghoon was true to his word, as he returned within 10 minutes, with a bag of groceries in hand, to see you curled up on the couch, waiting for him to return. He couldn't help but smile.
"Hoo!"
Riki?
"Hoo, Hoo!"
Sunghoon was shaken awake by a weight on his chest, and soft, chubby hands grabbing his face.
If it weren't for his incredible spider abilities, Sunghoon thought that he would have punted someone. Luckily, he didn't, because it was Riki that was waking him up.
"Riki?" Sunghoon said groggily. Taking the child in his arms and holding him close, Sunghoon sat up. He noticed that he was back in your apartment, sprawled out across your couch. He squished Riki's cheek, earning a giggle from the baby. The man rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Where's your mom?"
"Right here," your voice entered the room, a slight smile in it. Sunghoon whipped his head around to see you standing at the doorway, in your work clothes.
You slinked over to Sunghoon and Riki.
"Good morning, Sunghoon," you smiled at him.
Sunghoon blinked at you. "What time is it?"
"Almost 8AM," you answered smoothly, taking your son out of Sunghoon's arms and stroking Riki's hair.
Sunghoon immediately jumped to his feet. He usually woke up an hour or two before that to prepare breakfast for you!
"Oh shit—!"
"Relax," you put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze and pushing him back down onto the couch. "I already made breakfast. Riki's already fed, too."
Sunghoon watched as you gave Riki a peck on the cheek, before giving your kid back to him.
"I'll be back by 6," you told him as you slipped on your shoes, "Breakfast is on the table, just heat it up if needed."
"Right," Sunghoon nodded slowly. "See you. Have a good day at work."
"You too," you said in a sing-songy voice, before heading out the door, leaving Sunghoon and Riki alone.
.
.
.
"Mama!" Riki cooed, making grabby hands at the door.
Sunghoon gently bonked the baby's head with his fist. "She just left."
Riki's lips formed into a pout, his eyebrows furrowing together as his chubby cheeks puffed out.
"Mama!" he argued back.
Sunghoon couldn't help but poke the kid's cheeks. "I already said, she just left."
And cue the tears.
Sunghoon and Riki had beef. Nothing serious, just that Riki, even if he was an actual baby, liked to bother Sunghoon. And because Riki was already so much like you, it was hard to say no to him. Even so, he found himself butting heads with the child from time to time.
As Riki wailed, Sunghoon sighed, hoisting him up.
"What am I going to do with you..." he muttered to himself.
"Ah wah mama! (I want Mama!)" Riki cried, squirming against Sunghoon's chest.
Days with Riki were fun.
And exhausting.
But more fun than not.
It usually started with feeding him, but thanks to you, he was already fed. The daycare didn't open until another few hours, so in this time Sunghoon found himself being the most shameful version of himself that he could think of. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. But it was definitely a side of himself that made him cringe.
Case and point: Sunghoon's dreadful baby voice.
As he sat against the living room floor, Sunghoon let Riki sit on his lap against his chest. For such an active child, Riki especially liked it when Sunghoon read to him.
So that's what Sunghoon did.
Riki's little baby books were the interactive kind, the ones where the little caterpillars sprawled across the cardboard pages were fuzzy and the pop-out orange tree in the corner actually smelled of citrus.
It was unfortunate, at least to Sunghoon, because he always started off the reading with a completely normal voice, and by the end, he'd be talking to Riki with a high-pitched baby voice.
"Feel the grass, Riki," Sunghoon guided Riki's much smaller hand to the furry grassy patch on the book. He didn't even notice the way his voice got softer, going up airily at the end of his sentences. Riki babbled at the feeling of the soft texture under his fingertips, his eyes squeezing together as his high giggles filled the room. Sunghoon grinned. "Feels nice, right?.
Riki laughed again, clapping his chubby hands.
"I bet it does," Sunghoon rubbed his knuckle against Riki's cheek.
"Hoo!" Riki babbled suddenly.
Sunghoon picked the baby up, placing him on his feet and turning him around so that Sunghoon could see his face. Placing his hands on Riki's side to stabilize him, Sunghoon hummed. "What's up?"
"Hoo!" Riki repeated again, making grabby hands up at him. "Ub! (Up!)"
"Aren't you a little too old for upsies?" Sunghoon asked Riki as if he wasn't one year old, but still complied, lifting the kid up and resting Riki's face on his shoulder. Riki really liked it when Sunghoon carried him around while he did stuff, probably because Sunghoon's height made it a thrilling experience for him.
Sunghoon really enjoyed Riki's presence, even if the kid liked to give him hell.
Which was why he narrowed his eyes, looking around suspiciously as if you were there to catch him red-handed, before he tossed Riki’s small body into the air.
If Riki was any other normal baby, he'd scream in fear. But he wasn't. So all Riki did was let out an excited squeal. Almost immediately, Sunghoon shot a web at him, yanking him down from the air and into his arms in an instant.
"You better not tell your mother," Sunghoon booped Riki's nose as the baby clapped his hands, giggling. "She'll kick my ass if she knew that I was throwing you around."
And she'd also beat my ass if she knew that I was Spider-Man.
Speaking of which...
Sunghoon knew better than anyone how you felt about Spider-Man.
In short, you hated him. You hated Spider-Man, and you almost never failed to let Sunghoon know that.
You had a pretty simple reason: even if Spider-Man was a crime-fighter, the way that he was publicized made him more like a celebrity than a public servant. Because of this, people chose to commit more crime in the hopes of getting some sort of attention, which completely defeated the purpose of having a crime-fighter like Spider-Man.
Sunghoon was mere weeks into his job as Spider-Man, in the middle of bandaging up the cut on his hand that he got from fighting crime, when you suddenly barged into your apartment, throwing your bag aside as you exasperatedly began ranting about how a run-in with Spider-Man caused complete and utter hell for you when you commuted back from work.
Many months later you still carried that sentiment.
And if he had to be honest, Sunghoon had to agree with you.
It wasn't like he detested being Spider-Man. After all, it paid his bills and allowed him to watch over you and make sure that you were safe. But, still, he wasn't a fan of the media coverage.
All he wanted to do was protect you and Riki. Was that too much to ask for?
Would Sunghoon ever tell you that he was Spider-Man? Probably not. Would you be mad at him for being Spider-Man? Probably. But would you shun him? Maybe for a month, but not any longer. Still, Sunghoon wasn't afraid of going no-contact with you for a month. It was the fear of disappointing you and losing your trust.
He'd rather die than lose your trust!
But sometimes it was difficult to conceal his identity.
Like right now.
The day went on as per usual: Sunghoon played around more with Riki, before taking him to daycare. Then, Sunghoon went to do his Spider-Man activities, before picking Riki up again. It was the end of a stressful week, so you came home early and announced that you made dinner plans for the three of you.
And that's how Sunghoon found himself sitting in a fancy dimly-lit restaurant. Across from him sat you, wearing a dress that made him stare at you for a little longer than he should have.
Maybe it was the jazz music playing in the background, or the way that your gloss-laden lips clung to the delicate glass of champagne that you swished in your hand, but Sunghoon couldn't take his eyes off of you.
Thanks to the fact that Riki was sitting at the table with his baby high-chair, two of the waiting staff had already mistaken you and Sunghoon for a married couple. Not that Sunghoon minded. And it didn't seem like you minded either, because all you did was throw your head back with a laugh and clutch Sunghoon's arm.
In fact, if Sunghoon had to be honest, you've been confusing him lately.
Or maybe he was confusing himself.
Because he swore that your eyes have been lingering on him lately, running over his figure from time to time before you cracked that little smug grin on your face— the type of grin that made Sunghoon shrink into himself. You've been touchier, holding his arm in the crook right in between your chest, almost like you knew that it would make him nervous. You began picking up this habit of looking at his lips, then gazing back up at his eyes, before licking your own lips with a smile. It was driving him crazy.
Why was he feeling this way?
And more importantly, why were you torturing him like this? You were a mother, you were someone well-respected and feared in your workplace because of your sheer ability to read people. You knew your effect on people, so you must know what you were doing to him. Right?
"Sunghooooon," you sang, resting your face on your hands, propped up in a way that made it impossible to ignore how good you looked tonight. Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts, his eyes quivering over to you. "What're you thinking about?"
Sunghoon blinked a few times. "Nothing."
You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching across the table to gently hit his hand. "Don't lie to me. I know when there's something on your mind."
"Lie!" Riki giggled, repeating your words like a little parrot. "Lie! Lie!"
"See?" you ruffled your son's hair. "Even Riki agrees. What's up?"
Sunghoon opened his mouth to speak, but he was distracted when you reached for your glass of sparkly champagne once more, bringing it up to your lips.
"What?" you cocked a brow at him as he stared at you. "We drank with each other last night. What's so surprising about me drinking right now?"
Sunghoon gulped.
You were scary like that, always so straightforward. It made him piss himself, but it also made him want to melt into a pile of mush.
"It's nothing." He cleared his throat. "I'm just stressed about work."
"Awww," you frowned. "What happened?"
Sunghoon was talking straight out of his ass, because you reached over the table, beginning to play with his hands. Your eyes were trained on the shapes that you drew on his palms, but you hummed from time to time as words tumbled out of his mouth.
You had to be doing this on purpose.
It was weird, because Sunghoon never felt this way around you. What he felt toward you was quiet, something that was a basic fact to him. But now, all he could do was watch as you fed Riki airplane-style, making funny airplane engine noises as your baby laughed, trying to calm the beating of his heart.
Why did you have so be so attractive? Why was he feeling so warm?
It was a peaceful dinner, save for the war beginning to bubble inside of Sunghoon.
That was, until a loud crash rang through the restaurant. Then, there were whispers, car sirens, and at last, shrieking. The jazz music stopped as a hush fell over the restaurant.
Your first instinct was to take Riki out of his high-chair and into your arms, so you did that.
But the moment that you brought your eyes up to where Sunghoon should have been, he was gone.
Like, absolutely gone.
His seat was empty. His plate of food, as fell as his folded cloth napkin and silver cutlery, were left exactly as you last remembered. Sunghoon simply disappeared all of a sudden.
But before you could even say his name, another crash rang through the restaurant as someone screeched, "Giganto!"
Giganto was a self-proclaimed supervillain on the rise. The last time that you heard about him was a few months ago, when he tried to pull off some stupid scheme to take down Spider-Man. It was a pathetic attempt. But now he was back, with admittedly impressive equipment and a nasty spandex suit.
Based on your understanding of the layout of the restaurant, it seems like the front portion of it was crashed into. Which meant that the front entrance was 100% not an option.
And that became even more apparent to you when Giganto, in his pink spandex glory, began cackling villainously, announcing his arrival. What he said in his very unnecessary villain monologue was unknown to you, because you were too distracted by Riki, who was beginning to tear up in fear.
"Shh, shh," you held your son against your shoulder, your hand coming up to cup his ear. You pressed kisses on his face, petting his hair in an attempt to calm him down. "Baby, Baby it's okay. We're okay. Don't cry, Mama's here—"
"Run!" someone shrieked as another contraption began prowling into the restaurant. It was massive and made of some metal, some sort of machine that Giganto probably made to assert his dominance. It didn't matter to you. What did matter was the two people that you cared about: Riki, and.... hey, where's Sunghoon?
Your feet were just about to start moving when your eyes glazed over Sunghoon's still-empty seat. Your heart dropped to your stomach.
"Sunghoon?" you said to yourself, your eyes wide as they flickered around the slowly-crumbling restaurant for any familiar sign of your best friend. "Sunghoon!"
"Hoo!" Riki cried out.
You couldn't find him, amidst all the dust and hoards of people running past you.
You felt Riki's tears wet your shoulder.
You had to get out of here, if you wanted to save yourself and Riki.
But Sunghoon...
If you did not start running now, you would die. Riki would die.
I'm sorry, Sunghoon, you squeezed your eyes shut, before your feet picked up. You ran, you ran as fast as you could, trying your best to ignore your motherly instinct to stop and kiss Riki as he wailed. You didn't even realize it until your face was wet that you, too, were crying.
It could be fear, it could be uncertainty, it could be because your own son was sobbing. Or maybe it was guilt. Guilt because you could have waited for Sunghoon, but didn't.
Guilt, because you made it out of the crumbling restaurant, but Sunghoon did not.
Guilt, because you left your best friend to die.
You didn't know how long you ran, but you ran far enough that you could no longer hear the helicopters and screaming, only your and Riki's sniffles.
"Shhh," you shakily consoled Riki, rubbing circles on his back, doing your best to ignore the weight on your chest. "It's okay, Baby. We're okay."
But you knew you weren't. Not after what happened back there.
How could you abandon him back there, when he's done everything for you? How could you do him like that, as if he wasn't the sole reason that you weren't dead in a ditch right now? You were a horrible friend, and an even worse person for letting that happen.
All of a sudden, you were lifted off your feet. Literally. One moment you were walking under a streetlight, the next you were in the air.
"S-Spider-Man?!"
With one hand wrapped tightly around Riki, your other hand came up to grip the hero's bicep. Your stomach did flips as you looked down, seeing the city beneath you.
"Hey there," his voice was solemn.
"Where the—" you squeezed your eyes shut as you peered down— "Where the hell are you taking us?"
You felt Spider-Man tense under your touch, almost like he was wincing.
"I-I'm taking you home."
Your eyes narrowed.
Was it normal for a superhero to be stuttering as they save a civilian?
"And you're taking me home because you know where I live? How?" You felt bad for being so cold, for being so incredibly frigid toward him, but you couldn't let your guard down. Not when you were 100 meters in the air holding your son. Not when you already lost Sunghoon back there.
"I don't," Spider-Man quipped quickly. It was now that you noticed the cut on his shoulder, with dark red blood seeping out and exposing his skin. "Will you show me the way?"
You glanced down at Riki, who was now beginning to fall asleep. He was unlike you in the way that he liked thrill, even when he was just a little baby
You couldn’t say that you were happy with who Spider-Man was, but you were not going to reject the help he was giving you right now. Not when your son was on the line.
You huffed. “Make a turn right here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Spider-Man muttered.
You did not know why, but it seemed like the sound of the hero’s voice made Riki stir.
“Hoo,” Riki babbled sleepily. “Hoo…”
Sunghoon.
Again, you felt Spider-Man tense.
“My friend…” you began, swallowing your pride. “His name is Sunghoon. I-I couldn’t find him back there.”
Spider-Man hummed.
“Can you… I mean— Do you think you can look for him? I’m really worried.
Spider-Man gazed at you, looking at you with his masked face. For some reason, you thought that he was grinning behind the mask, and you almost began shouting at him. But the hero only nodded, saying, “I promise you that he’s safe, Ma’am.”
You looked at him pensively, doubt painted across your expression as you chewed on your lip.
“But if it makes you feel better I’ll look for him.”
You nodded slowly, still doubtful.
The rest of the trip to your apartment is quiet.
Sunghoon 100% expected you to start yelling at him the moment he appeared in your apartment doorway. And he 100% was going to smile through all thirty minutes of it.
“You’re so fucking stupid, why did you disappear like that?! Do you know how much that scared me?! I thought I lost you and you died, Oh my God you’re so fucking annoying, I was losing my mind—“
Sunghoon was laughing at you as you lightly punched his arms, his sharp canine teeth peeking through, when he noticed the glassy sheen over your eyes.
You had tears in your eyes, hot tears that you were blinking back as worried words spilled from your lips. Immediately, Sunghoon stopped his laughing, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.
He was happy that you cared about him so much, unable to hide the way his lips still pulled upwards as you pressed your face into his chest.
It was late at night by now. Riki was already sound asleep. There was something about the way you sobbed in his arms that warmed his heart, that someone as strong as you would allow him the privilege of seeing you tremble.
"I didn't know you cared so much, [Name]," Sunghoon teased. He expected you to hit him again, tell him to shut up, and maybe bite back a laugh, but all you did was shake your head.
"No," you murmured against his shirt. "I failed you."
"What're you talking about?" Sunghoon squeezed your shoulder. "You didn't fail anyone."
"No..." you squeezed your eyes shut, clinging onto Sunghoon even harder. You stayed like that for a little bit, simply holding the man in your arms like he'd disappear. Then, you pulled away, letting your gaze meet his. "I... I ran away when I should have waited for you."
Sunghoon only stared at you confused.
You licked your lips, your expression pinching. "I-I got scared so I ran, I ran so far away a-and—" you let out a heavy breath, pushing your face into your hands— "I-I'm such a shitty friend, Sunghoon."
Sunghoon blinked.
.
.
.
Oh!
Sunghoon remembered now, the way he disappeared from the face of earth the moment that disaster struck. One moment he was trying to breathe when you looked at him, the next he was in a tight spandex suit.
Of course you had to 'abandon' him. Sunghoon was Spider-Man! There was no way that you would be able to stay back to wait for him.
It should be easy to explain to you, that you could not have possibly been at fault, because the situation was already imbalanced to begin with.
But there was just one little problem!
How was Sunghoon going to explain this to you without revealing that he's Spider-Man?
Sunghoon pulled his lip between his teeth, unable to hide the awkward-panicked expression painting itself on his features as you cried into his shoulder.
Curse you for being such a caring person, he sucked in a sharp breath.
He didn't like seeing you cry, so he needed to dig himself out of this one soon.
What the hell was he supposed to say now?
"D-Don't cry," Sunghoon's lips moved on their own. "It's not your fault."
"It is though!" you cried.
"No..." Sunghoon let his panic mode take over. Quick, he needed to make something up. "I-I... It was my fault. I.. uhh..."
The man's eyes darted over to the kitchen, where in the rack lay plates, bowls, and Riki's baby utensils.
Ah, Riki.
It was a small inside joke between Sunghoon and you that Riki was always gassy. After all, he was a baby.
"I needed to use the bathroom really badly," Sunghoon swallowed all his pride. "A-And I was there the entire time... because it was really bad."
You pulled away from him, taking a look at his face. If it wasn't for the awkward topic at hand, you'd call out how uncomfortable he looked. Your brows furrowed, confused.
"What are you talking about?"
Sunghoon blinked a few times. "There was no way that you could have waited for me... I was in the bathroom the entire time..."
"Doing what?"
"You know..." Sunghoon felt his face warm up. "Doin' my business..."
"Oh."
.
.
.
Sunghoon wanted the floor to open up below him and eat him whole, because within seconds, your distressed, pained crying face melted into a massive smile. You threw your head back, your eyes crinkling into thin crescents, sweet laughs mixed with sniffles spilling out of your lips.
Sunghoon stood there, ears and cheeks pink, with his dignity shattered in his hands. He wanted to die, yes, but it made him feel better than you were no longer crying, just laughing. He couldn't help but feel a grin grow on his face.
"I'm sorry, Sunghoon," you squeezed his shoulders, wiping your eyes-- tears not from crying earlier but from laughing so hard. The way you brought your hand up to ruffle his hair, a reassuring smile on your face, made Sunghoon feel like a child, only furthering his embarrassment. "I didn't mean to laugh."
Sunghoon's lips pulled downward, forming an unintentional pout.
"Awww," you patted his head even more, "I appreciate your honesty. It takes a lot of courage to admit that."
It was definitely hard to stay embarrassed when you were so gentle about it, reassuring him every other sentence that you weren't judging him.
Sure, Sunghoon just embarrassed himself in front of you, but it was better than having to see you cry over something that you had no agency over to begin with.
Anything for you.
"Papa!"
"R-Riki, I'm not your-"
"Papa!"
No, no, no! This cannot be happening right now!
It was another afternoon of looking after Riki.
Riki just got back from daycare, and took a long and cozy nap. Sunghoon shook him awake an hour later. However, instead of Riki's wide owlish eyes blinking a few times before recognizing Sunghoon's face, exclaiming "Hoo!" as he always did, Riki seemed to learn a new word.
"Papa!"
Papa.
Riki knew the word mama. Of course he did, he knew you.
However, from the beginning, Riki never knew his own legal father, Taehyun. Sure, Taehyun dropped by ever-so-often, but he was no more than a stranger to Riki than a random person on the street.
Riki never says papa.
But now he just called Sunghoon papa.
Sunghoon had been spending the past 10 minutes trying to get Riki to call him Hoo again, but it seemed like nothing would work.
Sunghoon held both of Riki's tiny hands.
"I'm Hoo," Sunghoon said slowly. "Say it to me, Riki. Say Hoo."
"H.... H..." Riki began.
"That's right, you're almost there."
"H...H..." Riki's expression pinched. "Papa!"
"No!"
Truth be told, Sunghoon wanted to cry.
Riki calling him Papa and basically recognizing him as his father figure? The thought of it made Sunghoon tear up already.
He always tried his best to be there for you and Riki. To say that you and Riki were the joys of his life would be an understatement; Sunghoon did everything, even undertaking sketchy hero jobs, for the sake of you two. It wasn't like he expected anything in exchange. In fact, Sunghoon didn't even expect to be considered part of the family.
"Papa!"
"Riki..." Sunghoon's chest tightened at the little proud smile painted across Riki's face. "Riki, I'm not your—"
Ding dong! the doorbell rang.
Leaving Riki on the couch, Sunghoon opened the door without a thought.
Big mistake.
Because the person standing loud and proud at the door was the worst person that Sunghoon could think of.
"T-Taehyun?"
Taehyun Kang, the legal father of Riki, and also your slightly-obsessed ex-boyfriend.
Sunghoon gave Taehyun a once-over. Taehyun was dressed in a crisp dress-shirt, almost as if he was dressed up for a date. He held a bouquet of flowers, his hair slicked back neatly.
The moment that Taehyun's eyes fell upon Sunghoon, his eyes narrowed, something that wasn't surprising. You and Taehyun dated for a few years, and during those years you were friends with Sunghoon, too. Taehyun was always malicious towards Sunghoon, something that both you and Sunghoon never understood.
Sunghoon was in love with you, yes, and that love extended to respecting you and your relationships. He never did anything in all the years that you were with Taehyun.
"What are you doing here?" Taehyun spat.
"I'm—"
Taehyun pushed past Sunghoon, stepping through the doorway. "Whatever, where's [Name]?"
"She's—"
"Papa!"
Shit.
Taehyun perked up at the sound of Riki's voice, rushing to the living room and throwing the bouquet aside. Taehyun scooped Riki up into his arms as he coddled him dramatically, exclaiming, "Why didn't you tell me he learned that word?"
Sunghoon's heart sank. Was it bad that he felt a twinge of jealousy? Maybe Riki said papa and thought of Taehyun and not him. After all, Taehyun was supposed to be his father, not Sunghoon. But still. Did Taehyun spend nearly every waking minute with Riki? Did Taehyun put in any effort to spend time with Riki, other than a visit every three months? Has Taehyun ever even changed Riki's diapers? Brush his teeth? Make him breakfast?
Sunghoon felt his blood boil as Taehyun pranced around your apartment— the apartment that he had no right to claim— with Riki in his arms, saying that he was anything close to being Riki's papa.
"Tae!" Sunghoon could hear Riki exclaim from the other room.
"No, Riki," Taehyun said. "You said it earlier. I'm papa."
"Tae!"
"Say Papa, Riki."
"P... P.... Tae!"
Taehyun barged back into the living room, where Sunghoon sat patiently. The moment that Riki saw Sunghoon's face, he cried, "Papa!"
"He just said it again!" Taehyun was bright, but his face fell the moment that he saw Riki's grabby hands at Sunghoon, coupled with the way that Riki squirmed in his hold. Taehyun whipped his head around. He pointed an accusatory finger at Sunghoon. "You!"
"Papa!" Riki said, this time smiling brightly at Sunghoon, something that he hadn't done once at Taehyun.
Sunghoon couldn't help but bask in the sick satisfaction he felt, but he hid it under a scowl. "What?"
"You're stealing my family," Taehyun claimed, his expression painted with anger.
"I'm not," Sunghoon said calmly.
"You think I'm stupid?" Taehyun pressed, placing Riki down. "I know that you've been in love with [Name] since the beginning, and just because me and her are on a break, you think that you can just swoop in and play Prince Charming."
"I—"
"No, I know!" Taehyun raised his voice. Riki hated it when people raised their voice, silently cowering into himself. Taehyun would have known that if he put any ounce of effort into Riki. "I don't know what you did to Riki, to make him think that you're his father, but it's fucked up. You're fucked up. You will never be a part of this family."
Sunghoon stayed silent for a few moments. The air was tense, so silent that the only audible sound was the sound of Riki's breath.
Sunghoon sucked in a sharp breath.
"What's Riki's favorite color?" was all he said.
"W-What?"
"I asked," Sunghoon looked at Taehyun boredly. "What's Riki's favorite color?"
Taehyun's eyebrows crashed together. "Why does that matter?"
"You're his dad, aren't you?" Sunghoon said simply. "You should know."
Taehyun's expression stayed scrunched together, but no words fell from his lips.
That's right, he doesn't fucking know.
"It's black." Sunghoon got up to where Riki was, scooping him up into his arms, to which Riki giggled and exclaimed Papa! quietly. "Did you know that Riki needs to hold a stuffed toy to sleep? Did you know that his favorite one is a stuffed dog named Bisco? Did you know that Riki's favorite song is Beat It by Michael Jackson?"
Sunghoon stroked Riki's hair, relishing in the way Taehyun dug his nails into his palms, his ears burning red. "Taehyun, what's Riki's dominant hand?"
Taehyun gulped. "Isn't he right-handed?"
"Nope," Sunghoon couldn't hide the satisfied grin on his face. "He's left-handed. In fact, he is allergic to the chrysanthemums that you brought over there."
The room went silent for a few more pulses.
"I might not be Riki's father, but you aren't either," Sunghoon said calmly, strolling over to the front door. "Please get out."
Taehyun never left quicker (and he took the flowers, too).
The apartment was quiet again.
Sunghoon didn't know how to feel.
He would be lying if he said that Taehyun's words didn't get to him.
But Sunghoon also felt anger and satisfaction. Taehyun had no right to call himself a part of your family. He made you suffer, both in the past and now. He was a shitty co-parent and an even shittier dad to Riki. Sunghoon hoped that Taehyun understood his place now.
"Papa..." Riki murmured as he crawled toward Sunghoon, nuzzling his cheek into Sunghoon's hand that came up to cup his face.
Because after putting Riki to bed, you led Sunghoon into your bedroom.You locked the door, making Sunghoon gulp.
The serious expression on your face, and the way that you crossed your arms over your chest, freaked him out.
"Sit down." And he did so immediately, sitting his ass down on the bed the moment those words left your lips.
Sunghoon felt like he was a child about to be scolded. He chewed on his bottom lip, wringing his fingers as he carefully watched your standing figure.
"I got a call from Taehyun earlier," you said, your back turned to him.
Shit.
"Said that you were being disrespectful and brainwashing Riki." Sunghoon gulped as you glanced over your shoulder, your eyebrow cocked. "Care to explain?"
"I... I..." Sunghoon's mouth felt dry as he scrambled to gather words. "R-Riki started calling me p... papa, and Taehyun thought that I was brainwashing Riki into thinking that I was his dad, or something..."
You clicked your tongue, about to say something, but Sunghoon continued.
"I just— I just told him that he should be around more if he wanted... if he wanted Riki to call him papa," he added quickly, a grimace falling upon his expression, wincing with the way you took a deep breath.
Did Sunghoon overstep boundaries? It wasn't like you loved Taehyun— in fact you've been done with him for a while now— but it was an irrefutable fact that Taehyun was there before Sunghoon. Was Sunghoon wrong in thinking that he was even a part of your family? Was he getting ahead of himself? What if both you and Riki saw Taehyun as Riki's father figure and not him?
"Hey," Sunghoon was pulled out of his thoughts when you put a hand on his shoulder. "Relax. I'm not mad at you."
"Y-You aren't?"
You scoffed. "Of course not."
You rubbed your temples. "I'm more mad at Taehyun for barging in and causing a ruckus. Did he say anything else?"
"He said..." Sunghoon bit down on his bottom lip. Should he tell you this? "Never mind."
Your brows furrowed, pressing further. "What did he say?"
You sat down beside Sunghoon on the bed, noticing the way a deep frown painted itself on his features. You took his hand into yours, squeezing it. "I'm on your side, Sunghoon. I won't be mad."
Sunghoon licked his lips. "Just that... I will never be a part of your family."
He continued before you could respond. "I don't think I am... It just bothered me a little bit."
Your face scrunched, before you pushed Sunghoon's shoulder so that he laid down on the bed. You took his head onto your lap, gently running your fingers through his hair. Sunghoon let out a surprised squeak, shuddering at the feeling of your fingers. He pursed his lips, unable to hide his flustered expression.
Your face scrunched, before you pushed Sunghoon's shoulder so that he laid down on the bed. You took his head onto your lap, gently running your fingers through his hair. Sunghoon let out a surprised squeak, shuddering at the feeling of your fingers. He pursed his lips, unable to hide his flustered expression.
"You don't think that you're a part of this family?" you asked, your voice quiet. Sunghoon could hear the hurt in your voice.
"I..." You aren't going to bite, you never do. "I'd like to be... but it's not my place to say whether or not I am."
You clicked your tongue, anger rising in your tone. "And it's Taehyun's place to?"
"W-Well—"
"When has he ever done anything for this family?" your voice was filled with indignation, but your hands stayed gentle in his hair. "Taehyun will never be even half the man that you are, Sunghoon. He'll never do any of the things that you do, and that's because he's dead to this family."
You patted Sunghoon's cheek, making him look up at you. Your gaze softened, your lips curving up as you gazed at Sunghoon's wide, dark eyes. They were shiny, almost glossy, as if he was tearing up. "And I think Riki calling you papa is a testament to how much you mean to me and him. You're our family, Sunghoon."
The room was silent again. You and Sunghoon stayed like that, gazing at each other for what felt like years.
You felt all types of emotions, the main one being sheer anger. Who did Taehyun think he was? And even more importantly, how dare he take his audacity and hurt Sunghoon?
Sunghoon was your savior, he really was. You had no idea what you would do without him.
Watching as he tried to discreetly wipe the tears in his eyes, you threw your head back, letting a few chuckles fall from your lips.
His earnesty, how willing he was to help, and his sensitive side were all things that you cherished about him; they were all things that made you fall in love with him.
You don't know when it happened, or when you realized that you, in fact, loved your best friend, but it didn't matter that much.
It didn't help that Sunghoon was so painfully obvious. You didn't want to get too ahead of yourself, but you weren't stupid. You noticed Sunghoon staring at you for a little longer than he should, the way he got nervous whenever you touched him. It was adorable.
If you had less self-control, you would have grabbed Sunghoon's face and kissed him so hard that he'd see stars. After all, for all the little things you did in the hopes of driving him crazy, his wide eyes staring at you like you were some god drove you crazy.
Maybe it wouldn't hurt to loosen up a bit.
After all, Sunghoon had to endure Taehyun and the trouble that he brought. He took it like a champ.
He deserved a kiss, didn't he? For everything that he's done for you, for all the trouble that he's gone through. You figured he deserved a reward.
Slowly, you brushed Sunghoon's bangs away from his face, exposing his forehead. His shiny eyes followed you as you readjusted your position so that you laid beside him.
"[Name]?" his voice was a small whisper. God, you just wanted to eat him up.
You hummed, as you leaned closer to him. Sunghoon watched with fluttering eyes and a beating heart. Your face was inching so close to his that he was sure that you could hear how hard his heart was beating.
Was it just him, or was it getting hot in here?
Sunghoon's stomach did a flip at the way you gazed at him with lidded eyes, your beautiful lips parted. Oh, if the sky didn't part open and swallow him whole right now. You were so close, so close that he could feel your breath on his cheek.
If you didn't pull away now, Sunghoon thought that his fingers, which were now getting sticky with webs that came out when he couldn't control his nerves, would shoot actual webs.
"Sunghoon," you finally said, your hand coming up to gently guide his face, making him look straight at you. He faltered under your gaze.
"Y-Yes?"
There, you did it again— that thing where you glanced down at his lips for a few moments, before flickering back up to his eyes with a slight, smug grin. You were driving him crazy.
"Can I kis—"
Knock knock!
"Mama! Papa!"
Both you and Sunghoon immediately pulled away from each other, sitting up. You rushed to your bedroom door, opening it to find a tearful Riki (with Bisco his stuffed dog) in hand. You were quick to scoop him up, though you noticed the awkward expression on Sunghoon's face.
"What?"
How could you act like nothing happened?
"I-I—" Sunghoon stammered, his face bright red and his hair disheveled. He couldn't hide his disappointment now that you weren't close to him anymore.
You rolled your eyes playfully. "Calm down, you dork."
With that, you left the room to go comfort your son, leaving Sunghoon alone, his mind fried and his cheeks pink.
Except, you came back within a few moments, this time without Riki.
With one hand, you grabbed Sunghoon's shoulder. With the other, you took his face, taking the poor man by surprise. Gently, you pressed your lips onto the corner of his lips, placing down a soft, chaste kiss.
It was a short, innocent kiss, one that barely lasted a second.
But Sunghoon froze, his mind filled with nothing but you, you, you.
"Happy now?" you rasped against the shell of his ear before pulling away. You chuckled at the way Sunghoon watched you with eyes as big as saucers, his entire face and neck now red, so warm that you could feel it radiating off of him.
That was scary about you, how you could read him so easily. You had him in the palms of your hands, ready to eat him up and play with him like he was putty.
You got up to leave, but when you got to the doorway, you stopped. You turned over your shoulder, a sly grin spread across your face.
"By the way, Sunghoon," you purred. "You should probably come quick. Riki just had a nightmare. Think he needs both mama and papa."
Shit, you were going to kill him.
"Papa!"
No, no, no! This cannot be happening right now.
Why did Sunghoon agree to this?!
A few days ago, DK told Sunghoon about an absolutely appalling opportunity: a Spider-Man meet-and-greet.
Sunghoon didn't know what sick person had this idea, but he reluctantly agreed.
And that's how he found himself on a Saturday afternoon sitting at a Spider-Man fan convention. He could be at home, spending time with you and Riki, but no, he's here taking pictures with little kids.
A few kids already spilt their juice and slushies on him. Mothers shoved their babies in his face, while squealing middle schoolers took the most indiscreet pictures of him. It was hot, and Sunghoon was getting tired of putting on his customer-service voice.
Just as Sunghoon was about to sigh for the nth time that afternoon, he spotted two familiar faces in line.
Yours and Riki's.
You looked annoyed, maybe just as annoyed as Sunghoon was feeling, while Riki had the brightest smile on his face.
When he realized that you and Riki were in line to meet him, Sunghoon tried his best to speed through all the pleasantries and selfies.
And at last, you were up next.
"Hi, Spider-Man," you said quietly through gritted teeth. It was obvious that you were only here because of Riki.
"Hi, ma'am," Sunghoon said as curtly as possible.
Your face scrunched, unable to hide your disdain for Sunghoon as Spider-Man.
"Uh, this is Riki, my son," you said, carefully handing your son over to the hero. You sighed, reluctantly taking out your phone to snap a few pictures. "Riki really loves your work."
"Smile for the picture, Riki!" you said, and that's the only time that you've smiled in the past ten minutes.
And then, the worst words tumbled out of Riki's mouth.
"Papa!"
Um.
What?
Sunghoon should have known. Last time, when he was carrying you and Riki through the sky, Riki recognized him as "Hoo" almost immediately.
And now, it seemed like Riki could still recognize him, this time as papa.
Sunghoon tensed up, and he froze up even more when Riki began to snuggle up against his blue and red - clad chest, giggling, "Papa!"
You looked horrified, your mouth agape and your brows knitted together.
"I-I'm so sorry, Spider-Man," you stammered, taking Riki back into your arms. "I don't know what's gotten into him."
"It's— ahem— fine," Sunghoon quipped. "Have a nice day, ma'am."
Sunghoon found himself frowning the entire time, until he checked his phone.
[name]: spiderman wants to be you so bad
[name]: riki called him papa
[name]: sorry but youre the only papa i know
He couldn't help but chuckle at that.
Sunghoon has been acting strange.
You knew it better than anyone else.
It all started after another city-wide crisis. Giganto, the mad supervillain that Spider-Man's been fighting with for months, spread some contaminant in the water supply. This could have been avoided if Spider-Man just left the city, but alas, a few people had to be hospitalized. After that, the city's crime rate ran up the walls.
It wasn't difficult to notice it, the way Sunghoon's face scrunched up like he was deep in thought more often than not, the way he was quick to object you going out to the convenience store after dark, the way that he disappeared for a few hours at a time, suspiciously aligning with news reports, and most noticeably, the way that Sunghoon winced every time that you named Spider-Man.
You weren't stupid. In fact, you couldn't tell if you could just read Sunghoon well, or if he was just horrible at hiding how he felt.
As of now, you had a few suspicions, but all of them centered around one thing: Sunghoon had some affiliation with Spider-Man. He had to have, it was the only thing that made sense.
"I really don't think you should, [Name]," Sunghoon reasoned with you one night, his hands buried in his hair.
"Why not?" Tonight, you wanted to test the waters even more. Sunghoon seemed to get antsy whenever you went out at night alone. "I'm just going to get groceries. We ran out of eggs."
You had your back turned to him as you jammed your feet into your shoes, but you listened closely to the worry in his voice.
"I-I can go get it tomorrow morning," he stumbled over his words.
"What difference does that make?" you pressed. "Eggs that I buy at night are the same as eggs that you buy in the morning."
You reached for the door. "I'll be back in 20, promise."
You didn't know what switch flipped, but it seemed like as the door hinges turned, Sunghoon reached for your hand so fast that you didn't even see him moving. Has he always been that fast?
His grip was firm.
"I'll go with you," Sunghoon said solemnly.
You narrowed your eyes. "Suit yourself."
That was your tactic, pushing Sunghoon's limit until he had no choice but to take action.
He was iffy about you going out at night, so you made sure to do it more often. Each time, he insisted that he went with you. It was funny, because he'd follow you like a guard dog, so willing to fight anyone that even so much as looked in your direction.
"Relax, it's just some kid."
"He looked at you funny."
"He looks like he's nine years old. He is not an assailant."
"But he can be."
You didn’t mind that Sunghoon wanted to go with you. It gave you an excuse to hold his hand, and snuggle up against his side in the cold hair. Sometimes, he’d give you his jacket, and you got to be engulfed in his scent. As long as you got to spend time with him, you figured that you didn't mind.
It was now that you realized just how strong Sunghoon was. He carried bags of groceries like it was nothing, and when you and him kicked pebbles along the sidewalk, he kicked his pebble with such minimal effort, yet it still somehow flung across the street at lightning speed.
But along with sticking with you at night, he texted you a lot more during the day, asking if you were okay. Did he think that you wouldn't notice?
What threw you off even more was when he randomly caught a fly with his bare hands, crushing the poor thing right between his fingertips like it was nothing. Since when did he have such precision?
Sunghoon has been acting strange, and you were going to get to the bottom of it.
Sunghoon narrowed his eyes at his phone screen for what felt like the millionth time this week.
It was noon now, Riki was at daycare and you were at work.
It was no secret that the crime rate was rising at an alarming rate. Sunghoon found himself fighting crime after crime, nearly blowing his cover multiple times.
As Sunghoon swung from building to building, he gazed down at the cityscape. It was still early in the day. He could see school children playing ball, laughing as if there wasn't a robbery just down the street. Businessmen in crisp suits pranced around the sidewalks like they owned the place, while public transitters waited around for the bus.
It was still crazy to him, how any one of these people could be the next person that he had to fatefully stop from committing a crime.
The only good things about being Spider-Man, at this rate, was that he could easily watch over you throughout the day and that he could help people. If he got another microphone shoved in his face, Sunghoon might become the criminal.
"Are you serious?!" Sunghoon couldn't help but exclaim as he peered over the ledge.
He was on his daily patrol, checking alleyways and stopping muggers, when he spotted a child, no older than ten, getting robbed.
Seriously? A child?
Sunghoon sighed.
"Oi!" Sunghoon shouted as he swung down, extending his leg so that he could land an easy kick on the assailant's cheek. Maybe Sunghoon put a little too much force, because he swore he heard a cracking noise. As he landed, he made sure to stand in front of the child, shielding him from the assailant.
"Hey man," Sunghoon said smoothly, yet even through his masked face his contempt was apparent. "You realize this kid is like seven, right? Stop trying to rob children."
The assailant groaned in pain, still keeled over on the ground, so Sunghoon took that moment to usher the child away, leaving the two in the alleyway.
The assailant was holding his nose, and that was when Sunghoon realized that he was bleeding.
He looked up at Sunghoon angrily, stumbling to his feet. "You broke my nose!"
Sunghoon shrugged. "You attack children. What about it?"
The assailant growled angrily, fumbling with the knife in his pocket as he charged toward Sunghoon.
Sunghoon sighed, rolling his eyes.
With the amount of media coverage Spider-Man got, he would expect people to understand by now that attacking him head-on was just impossible. Every single headline boasted about Spider-Man's super-human abilities, yet here people were, acting dumb as fuck.
Almost like Sunghoon could see movement in slow-motion, mere milliseconds before his assailant collided with him, he shot a web at the wall, flinging himself up to the wall.
"C'mon man," Sunghoon taunted. "You're faster than that."
Before the man could respond, Sunghoon swung down and kicked him in the abdomen. He tried to get back up and land a stab at Sunghoon, but alas, he was too slow.
"I'm serious," Sunghoon chuckled, but behind his mask he was completely blank-faced, nearly bored. "You need to be a little faster if you wanna catch up to me."
With one more kick to the stomach, the man was down for good. Sunghoon dialed the police, and with that, he left.
Because he had witnessed a child get mugged earlier, Sunghoon's first instinct was to check up on Riki's daycare.
Sure, Riki was basically a baby, but the thought of a child being attacked made Sunghoon a little worried for him.
In fact, the thought of Riki being in danger made Sunghoon worried about you. Should he go check up on your office too?
Sunghoon's sure that you've noticed by now, how increasingly nervous he got about your safety. At first, he tried to conceal it better, but it got harder as crime increased.
If Sunghoon had superhuman levels of hearing, his ability to identify your voice from miles away must have been god tier.
Sunghoon clung to the walls of your office building, pressing his chest against the hard brick in order to not be as obvious. Stealthily crawling against the wall, Sunghoon finally found the window right where your office was.
Peering inside, Sunghoon could see that you were talking with one of your colleagues. You were smiling, laughing from time to time. It must have been a friendly conversation.
Sunghoon pressed his ear against the wall, letting his enhanced hearing do the work for him.
"Do you have any plans this weekend?" your colleague asked, leaning on your desk.
You hummed, typing away and half-listening. "I'm spending time with my family."
Your colleague smiled. "You and Riki?"
You shook your head absent-mindedly. "Me, Riki, and Hoon."
Sunghoon cracked a grin.
"Oh? Who's Hoon?"
Your eyes flickered away from your computer screen. "Sunghoon? He's my...." you trailed off. What was Sunghoon to you?
"Your?" Your colleague looked at you expectantly, but when you bashfully smiled, she gasped. "Don’t tell me…”
"W-Well, I mean— He's a good friend—"
"Tsk, tsk, if he really was a good friend you wouldn't struggle so much to say that." Your colleague sat down. "Do you like him or something?"
"Of course I do. He's a good friend—"
"That's not what I meant."
You huffed.
Sunghoon held his breath
"I think I... love him?" you said it like a question, but you didn't look uncertain. The rest of your conversation was pretty plain, just exchanging pleasantries and chuckles about family life.
Meanwhile, Sunghoon was completely zoned out. A gunshot could fire right beside him and even then he wouldn't be fully conscious and in his body.
You?
Loved him?
Ohmygodyousaidthatyoulovedhim.
It was getting bad, how much those words affected him. Each time Sunghoon forced himself to recover mentally, your words would replay again in his head, making him squeeze his eyes shut and feel the heat rush back to his face. Sunghoon felt light-headed. If it weren't for the stickiness of his spiderwebs, Sunghoon would have fallen off the building by now.
Was he dreaming?
Sunghoon bit down on his lip to stop the dumb, dopey grin threatening to spill across his face, but alas, a simple glance at you through the window again had his heart jumping.
He felt like a high schooler, getting all giddy again as if no one has ever loved him before.
Well, it was true though. No one has ever loved him before, not in the way that you've loved him.
Maybe Sunghoon was right for being so protective of you over the past few weeks.
You couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at this point, rather just amazed beyond words at the goddamn audacity of these people.
"I don't have money," you said simply, rolling your eyes.
"Are you sure about that, lady?"
You huffed. "Yes, I'm a single mother. You think I'm rich?— Ow, okay sorry."
You were just minding your own business, walking to the subway and thinking about how much you hated your boss, when you were pulled into an alleyway. You were lucky (if this could be considered lucky at all) that you were just getting mugged, who knows what else could have happened?
It was a group of three men, two holding you back and the other trying to extort you of your money. Unfortunately for them, you didn't have any cash on you.
The cold brick wall pressed harshly into your back, hard enough that you nearly winced in pain, but you made sure to show no signs of discomfort or struggle. That would make you seem weak, and if you wanted any chance of getting out unscathed, you should probably avoid showing any vulnerability.
"I can PayPal you," you said simply, your gaze bored.
"We want cash, lady."
You huffed. "I already said, I don't have cash on me. Do you have ApplePay?"
The men groaned.
You had a simple plan: continue to play dumb and keep suggesting alternative payment options to distract them, and when the time came, you'd land a kick to the crotch and make a run for it. A lot of people liked to pool at the convenience stores and bakeries nearby, so it shouldn't be difficult to catch their attention.
"What about Venmo?" you asked, your tone purposefully squeaky and annoying. "Or Zelle? I have a lot of money on Zelle."
You blinked at them, feigning some semblance of naivety, watching in near-satisfaction at the way their faces distorted incredulously.
And just as the three men shot each other looks, trying to reconvene, you realized that maybe your bit off more than you could chew.
Maybe acting stupid wasn't the best idea, especially in the face of three people filled with the intent to rob you.
Slap!
Because the next thing you knew, your cheek was hot and prickling with pain, your eyes burning with tears from the sheer impact of that palm against your face.
Your jaw went slack in pure shock. Did they just—
Slap!
"Shut up, you bitch!"
Woah.
You opened your mouth to let out another witty response (which was probably already a bad idea to start with), but you're cut off when you're suddenly pushed all the way up against the hard brick wall. Your cheek was pressed against it; it was rough and cold.
Grubby hands patted you down, searching for any spare cash left in your pockets. You cringed as they searched through your long-discarded purse for the third time, only to find chapstick, lip gloss, and a bunch of cards.
"Come on, woman, you need to have some money on you!" you heard one of them mutter, the rancid smell of cigarettes filling your nose.
"I already said," you huffed, letting out a small yelp of pain as they shoved you against the wall again, your lip scraping against the rough brick. You tasted blood. "I don't have cash on me—"
They shoved you even harder this time, holding you by your head. Your entire cheek was pressed up against the wall, your eyes squeezing shut as pain shot through your head. Maybe you shouldn't have talked so much smack, because now you were feeling light-headed from the sheer impact.
You couldn't see what happened in the next few moments, but you were suddenly lifted in the air by strong arms, strong arms that almost felt familiar. You heard some yelling and shouting, and a few more sudden groans of pain.
It took you a few moments to realize that it was a certain blue and red superhero scooping you up, and it took you even longer to realize that it was this same hero that had gently placed you up on the ledge, before going back down to the alley to wreak havoc on those men.
It was horrific, the way that Spider-Man raised his fists, crashing them down on these men so hard that you could see the dark red blood stains seeping onto his spandex costume. The painful cries, the sound of Spider-Man's fists making contact with their bodies, it was all a terrible sound.
You watched silently, slack-jawed.
Spider-Man always had a more action-packed fighting style, utilizing his webs and arsenal of abilities and gadgets to make a spectacle of his fights (whether intentional or not).
Yet, here he was, using nothing but his bare hands to beat these men to a pulp.
It made your head hurt, everything. Even from the ledge high up, you could smell the must, blood, and sweat. It made you feel sick.
You could feel yourself lose all energy, deflating. You just wanted to go home, and feel your son and Sunghoon's warmth.
Riki, you thought as you watched in horror.
"Hoon," you whispered, barely audible even to yourself to the point that you didn't even realize that you said it.
Then, everything stopped, and suddenly you were up in the air again.
You mustered all the strength you had left in yourself to become aware of your surroundings. "Spider—"
"Don't talk."
So you didn't.
As you felt your mind cloud up, you could only think of a few things.
First, that your entire body had a subtle ache.
And second, that Spider-Man's voice sounded really familiar.
“Where were you? Why do you have a cut on your lip? Why were you out so late?” were the first words spilling out of Sunghoon’s mouth the moment you appeared in the doorway. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why would you stay out when it’s dark—?”
You appreciated the concern, but you simply did not have it in you talk to him. You were exhausted, and even more mentally drained. You walk past him, ignoring Sunghoon's bombarding questions, completely oblivious to the way he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, rubbing his bruised knuckles as his brows crashed together.
"Why aren't you answering me?" Sunghoon clutched your shoulder, his eyes filled with concern. You missed the ring of red around his eyes, too focused on your own bloody lips to see the even larger gash slowly healing on Sunghoon's cheek. His breath was heavy, almost like he'd been running around like crazy.
You let out an exasperated sigh, your tired eyes fluttering over to him. The events that transpired earlier were not a big deal to you, but it sure did suck the energy out of you.
Sunghoon cupped your cheek, taking your face into his hands. He studied your expression, brushing his finger against your cut lip. When you hissed at the sensation, Sunghoon sucked in a sharp breath, before his face pinched.
"This is why I told you not go out after dark—"
"Not right now, Sunghoon," you grumbled, pulling away from him. You let out another sigh. "I don't feel like having this conversation right now."
He reached out for you, but you turned on your heel, heading towards Riki's room.
"How's Riki?"
Sunghoon stared at you, before swiping his tongue over his lips. "I-I'm serious, [Name]. We can't keep having this conversation."
"Not right now," you repeated yourself, not even looking at him.
"No!" Sunghoon cried, his outburst making you stop and cock a brow at him. "We need this conversation now. Y-You— It's not safe anymore."
You narrowed your eyes at him.
"Just, don't go out anymore," he stumbled over his words, yet his face was solemn. "Please, just come home early. And if—And if you want to go out, I'll go with you."
Maybe it was because you were already having a bad day, or maybe you were just tired, but you felt anger begin to bubble inside of you.
These past few weeks, Sunghoon had been protective of you. It was endearing sometimes, but now it was getting ridiculous. You were capable of handling yourself, and if you weren't, that was your own responsibility to take care of, not his. You appreciated the concern, but not his visceral disapproval of any time you even decided to step outside.
"Sunghoon," you said calmly, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "I'm a grown woman. I can go outside by myself."
"No," he shook his head vehemently, taking your hands into his. "You don't get it. You don't know what's out there. It's not safe for you."
You tried your best. You really tried your hardest to swallow all the hot anger threatening to tumble out of your lips. You dug your nails into your palms, taking slow breaths as Sunghoon gave you a lengthy lecture about why you weren't prepared for the 'outside world' anymore.
It was difficult. You couldn't be angry that he cared about you, that he was so worried for your wellbeing. But as more words about how you couldn't possibly handle yourself outside were bleeding into your ears like shrill pots and pans to the point that it was unbearable to listen to.
"Am I weak to you, Sunghoon?" you finally interrupted him amidst his tangent.
"What? No, I—"
"Then why do you keep acting like I am?" No, you shouldn't be raising your voice at him like this, not when all he was doing was showing you how much he cared about you. Each word was calm, but you felt the venom seeping in with each syllable. "I'm tired of it all. I'm tired of how you act like I'm incapable of defending myself."
"But—"
"I don't want to hear it anymore," you grumbled, rubbing your temples and turning your back to him. "Please. I just want quiet right now."
The two of you stood in silence like that for a few pulses, the air tense— the most tense that the two of you have ever been.
The silence was broken when Sunghoon took in a deep breath, cracking the front door open, before stepping outside and quietly shutting it.
The entire apartment was deathly silent. With what remaining energy you had left, you retired to your room. The moment your back hit the mattress, your heavy eyelids shut.
Meanwhile, Sunghoon took a stroll along the apartment complex. The cool air kissed his cheek, running through his hair.
Was he wrong for worrying about you so much?
Should he have approached things differently?
How was he going to resolve this now?
Maybe Taehyun was right, that he was trying so hard to be a Prince Charming of sorts– your knight in Shining Armor.
It was never Sunghoon's intention to make you feel weak.
He was just scared. When he saw you in that alleyway, his blood ran cold, and all he could think about was protecting you.
The mere thought of you getting even more hurt than you already were frightened Sunghoon.
Sunghoon wasn't sure how long he spent outside, but it was long enough for his skin to feel cold to the touch.
After collecting himself, Sunghoon had a plan to resolve this bump along the road: he'd go inside, apologize, and explain himself clearly. Anxiety gnawed at him from the inside out, but he knew he had to make things right.
But as Sunghoon made his way back to your apartment door, taking in a deep breath before he reached for the door handle and rehearsing what he wanted to tell you in his head, something interrupted his thoughts.
First, it was the sound of glass breaking.
Then, the sound of Riki crying, and at last, your screaming.
And when Sunghoon busted down the front door, he found the entire house empty, save for the shattered glass window of your bedroom.
"Shhh, Baby don't cry," you shakily breathed, holding Riki close to your chest. "It's okay, it's okay— Shhh."
The last thing you expected was to be kidnapped by Spider-Man's number one opponent, the supervillain Giganto.
But here you were, tied up at the hands and feet, trying to hush Riki’s wailing. You’re not sure where Giganto took you, but it looks like the local ice rink. The humming of the ice rink filled your ears, the icy frost beginning to rise in the facilities kissing your skin.
But here you were, tied up at the hands and feet, trying to hush Riki’s wailing. You’re not sure where Giganto took you, but it looks like the local ice rink. The humming of the ice rink filled your ears, the icy frost beginning to rise in the facilities kissing your skin.
It all happened so quickly that you could barely remember how you got here. The hair on your hands was standing up, a chill running down your spine. The entire facility felt empty, only the sound of your breathing and Riki's crying reverberating off the walls, but you knew better. Giganto took you here, so he must be nearby. You didn't even know why he wanted you to begin with, but now you had to deal with the reality of it.
You thought back to Sunghoon.
Wasn't this what he was warning you about? Why did you have to be influenced by your feelings like that? If you just listened to him and acted maturely, this could have been avoided... right?
You couldn't imagine how he felt now. He was just trying to protect you, and you just threw it back into his face. This was the second time that you were shitty to Sunghoon; how could you say that you loved him when all you did was be an asshole to him?
You would wallow in self-pity, but you had Riki to protect now.
Your eyes flickered around the dark and empty facility. Any moment now, Giganto could appear and kill you, or something.
You didn't know much about Giganto, other than that he had the ability to change sizes. That is, he could become very large or very small in an instant.
"Riki, breathe baby," you huffed, hoping that the fast beating of your heart would slow down soon enough for you to think straight. You swallowed the lump in your throat. For the first time ever, you wished that Spider-Man would come and save you from this maniac.
"Well, hello there."
Speak of the devil.
From the shadows emerged a man. He was in a skin-tight suit, with a mask hiding everything but his eyes and mouth, similar to Spider-Man. What made him stand out was the gadget in his hand. It was a gun-like gadget of some sort, glowing bright green.
You narrowed your eyes at him as goosebumps rose on your arms.
"Giganto," you questioned, your voice hoarse from screaming earlier, "Why did you take me here?"
The supervillain grinned, taking his time as he promenaded around the rink. Was he wearing ice-skates? How pompous.
"Is it that hard to figure out?" Giganto mused, his fingers running along the edge of his gadget. "Why don't you take a guess?"
You had no answer. The only thing that made sense was that you were a civilian and a resident of this city. What other connection to Giganto did you have other than that?
You stayed silent, holding Riki even closer to your chest as you realized that Giganto was walking— err, skating?— towards you. Your shoulders tensed, trying to pull your curled up legs to your chest.
"Relax, woman," the villain huffed. That's when you realized that he wasn't just holding that gadget, but various other... cones? They looked like those tiny plastic traffic cones at Riki's daycare. Giganto began to place them adjacent to you. "I'm just setting up for a game."
A game?
Just when you thought that Giganto probably forgot about your earlier question, he skated back to where he was previously.
"So, you have a guess yet?"
You would have said something witty, but you remembered what happened last time you tried to use your words to get out of something.
It was distracting you, the way that Giganto was paying extra attention to the gadget in his hands, brandishing it and shining the thing like it was a jewel.
And it seemed that he noticed this too.
“Oh this?” the villain threw his head back, letting out a laugh, a laugh that you knew too well to be fake because hey, working in an office with shitty coworkers and an even shittier boss made you receptive to it. “It’s just what I call a Size-inator!”
He let out another string of cartoonishly villainous laugh, nearly comical how enunciated it was. It was so ridiculous that Riki stopped crying, sending you a confused look. And when all you did was stare at him like he was a maniac, Giganto stopped laughing.
“Isn’t this impressive?” Giganto threw his hands up in the air. “Gee, you people are never satisfied.”
You nodded slowly. He looked so excited about this Size-inator, almost like he was just waiting for you to ask about it. You wouldn’t mind doing some talking. After all, it could buy you time and information.
“Right…” you nodded slowly. “So this Size-ometer-"
“Size-inator,” he corrected you.
“Yeah, yeah, this Size-er,” you waved him off, “What does it do?”
"Thought you'd never ask!" Giganto threw his hands up into the air theatrically. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, all the lights turned off in the ice rink, only a spotlight shining over the villain. "The Size-inator is a device designed by moi. I can shoot whatever I want— he pointed the gadget to one of the cones he placed down, pulling the trigger. In an instant, the cone shrunk— "And it will change in size!"
"Pretty neat, isn't it?" he looked at you slyly.
You nodded slowly. "So it's a shrink ray, basically."
"Nuh-uh!" Giganto's outburst made you cock a brow at him. "It's a Size-inator!"
"Right."
.
.
.
"So... Where's Spider-Man?" Giganto asked, teetering on his ice-skates like a teenage girl waiting on her crush.
Your face scrunched.
Um.
How were you supposed to know?
"Uh, I don't know?" you said, your tone questioning your own certainty.
Giganto's face morphed into an incredulous one. He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "Don't lie to me, woman!"
You shook your head, shrugging vehemently. "I really don't!"
Giganto skated up to you, his ice-skates scraping up against the ice to make a shrill sound. He peered down at you, his eyes suspicious even through the mask.
"So you mean to tell me that you've coming home to the same apartment as Sungjoon Park everyday and you didn't know that he's Spider-Man?" the villain eyed you suspiciously.
Sungjoon Park?
"What are you talking about? I only know a Sunghoon Park—"
At the sound of Sunghoon's name, Riki stirred.
"Papa!" he exclaimed, wriggling in your hold.
"Yeah, yeah, Sunghoon Park, or whatever," Giganto waved off. "You didn't know that he's Spider-Man this entire time?—" he pointed at Riki— "You have a child with him!"
Crash!
Before you could even process things, a massive crash rang throughout the entire facility, followed by the sound of car sirens going off and glass breaking.
"Oh! Gotta goooo!" Giganto sped away, summoning his other little gadgets, presumably to go check up on the commotion outside. "Don't you dare try to escape, woman! I'm always watching!"
And then you were left alone again, in the middle of a cold ice rink.
Tap, tap.
Sunghoon?
Spider-Man?
Tap, tap.
You knew that Giganto was a maniac, but you didn't know that he was that insane.
Tap, tap.
That wouldn't make any sense.
Sunghoon might be associated with him somehow, but your own best friend as the Spider-Man?
No way.
Tap, tap.
And now that Giganto was gone—
Tap, tap.
That tapping sound was going to drive you crazy—!
"Pssst!"
You shot your head around. No one was there.
You looked in the other direction, then all around you. No one was there either.
"Look up here!"
You whipped your head up to the ceiling, where a massive opening had been created from the rubble. And lo and behold, there hung the one and only friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
"C'mon, [Name]," he said, reaching out a hand to you, "Take my hand and we'll escape."
Your eyes widened into saucers, bulging out of your head. You swore that you've heard that voice before, and as you flashed through all of your memories, you could never recall an instance where Spider-Man's voice matched with that of Spider-Man. Instead, all the memories lined up with Sungh—
"Papa!" Riki cried.
That's something that you could never wrap your head around. Riki seemed to call only Sunghoon papa. Yet, he's been calling Spider-Man papa, too.
You kept your eyes trained on the hero's wide, white eyes, your mind running on its own while your mouth moved.
"I-I'm tied up, Spider-Man," you stammered.
A familiar voice, papa, a weird obsession with crime and safety, it all didn't make sense.
Spider-Man dropped down from the ceiling, carefully untying the ropes wrapped around your hands and feet.
"Are you okay?" the hero asked, helping you stand up with wobbly feet. To your surprise, Spider-Man clutched your chin, forcing you to look at him. In his other hand, he held Riki, to which Riki began snuggling up against his chest. And then, worried words streamed from his lips, in a tone that you knew all too well. "Did he do anything to you? Are you hurt? Can you stand?—"
For a split second, you thought you were going crazy.
For a split second, his voice sounded exactly like Sunghoon's: with the same breathiness, the same cadence, and of course, the same exact concern that made your heart melt.
For a split second, you could almost see Sunghoon's thick eyebrows furrowing behind the mask, worry strewn all across his expression.
"Sunghoon?"
Spider-Man froze, going frigid all the while Riki continued to nuzzle his face in his strong chest.
Behind the mask, you could see almost exactly how Sunghoon would bite down on his tongue, his lips parting while his eyes flashed around the room; his nervous tick.
"Sunghoon," you whispered again, this time with a type of desperation that you never knew you had. You could feel your chest pounding, the sound of your heart thrumming against your ribcage filling your ears. "Sunghoon, please."
Please tell me it's you.
Slowly, you reached up to cup Spider-Man's face, and to your surprise, the hero leaned into your touch.
"[Name]," Spider-Man whispered shakily, so low that you could barely hear it.
Hearing it roll off his tongue, that confirmed everything that you needed to know.
Everything crashed down on your shoulders at once. You felt all types of emotions—confusion, anger, surprise, shock— but all of them fell short in the face of the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around his shoulders and feel his warmth.
But before you could, another crash rang through the facility.
And there, standing at the doorway was Giganto, in all his spandex glory pointing his Size-inator right at you and Sunghoon.
"Don't you dare move!" his voice boomed.
"S-Sungh—" you felt a panic course through your veins. But, that panic was replaced by the feeling of strong hands around your waist.
"Don't worry," Sunghoon breathed against the shell of your ear. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I got this."
Everything crashed down on your shoulders at once. You felt all types of emotions—confusion, anger, surprise, shock— but all of them fell short in the face of the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around his shoulders and feel his warmth.
But before you could, another crash rang through the facility.
And there, standing at the doorway was Giganto, in all his spandex glory pointing his Size-inator right at you and Sunghoon.
"Don't you dare move!" his voice boomed.
"S-Sungh—" you felt a panic course through your veins. But, that panic was replaced by the feeling of strong hands around your waist.
"Don't worry," Sunghoon breathed against the shell of your ear. You could hear the grin in his voice. "I got this."
Sunghoon shot a web back up at the ceiling where the opening was.
Giganto loaded his shrink ray, and in that moment, you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for what was to come.
Yet, instead of feeling yourself shrink into oblivion, you felt your entire body lift up into the air, before being hoisted back to your feet.
"You don't trust me?" Sunghoon grinned into your ear, his hands still wrapped tightly around you.
You opened your eyes slowly. You were on a rooftop.
"Woah..."
With Riki back in your arms, you looked down to see the vast cityscape below your feet. The dark blue night sky was peppered with white splotches of stars and satellites. The lights were beautiful, so beautiful that you couldn't tear your eyes away from it.
The feeling of Sunghoon's warmth behind you, as well as Riki's little giggles, made you melt.
"W-Where are we?" you asked, your eyes still glued to the view.
"Far," Sunghoon breathed against your ear. Then, he pulled away from you, gently guiding you to a ledge in the inner perimeter of the rooftop. "Far from Giganto."
And as he began to slink away, your eyes widened, reaching out to him instinctively. "Where are you going?"
Sunghoon turned around. He ruffled Riki's hair, then brushed his gloved finger against your cheek.
"I need to go fight Giganto," he said simply.
Before you could protest, Sunghoon clutched your chin, making you look at him.
"Well, you said that Spider-Man was useless," you could hear him grin behind the mask. "This is my one time to impress you. I'll beat him up really good, I promise."
His tone was light-hearted, trying to make you smile, yet you only chewed on your lip, looking on hesitantly.
"I'll be safe," Sunghoon reassured you, leaning in closer to you.
You looked at him with clouded eyes. "Are you sure? What if you get hurt?"
It was funny, how the roles were now reversed: now, it was you worrying about his safety.
"I'm strong," Sunghoon chuckled, flexing his bicep. "The strongest."
You still looked apprehensive, so Sunghoon leaned in even closer, cupping your cheek.
"Don't worry about me," he said lowly, his hands holding you like you were a delicate piece of glass.
You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath. You nodded your head, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself, before meeting his eyes.
The two of you stared into each other's eyes like that for a few pulses, getting lost in the comfort of each other, a momentary escape from reality.
And then, letting all of your inhibitions run free, you grabbed Sunghoon's masked face, and pressed a right where his lips were. You pulled away quickly, but this time, you had a determined look on your face.
Sunghoon stood there frozen, suddenly dazed as he brought a hand up to cover his mouth, flustered.
"Well?" you grumbled, averting your gaze. "What are you waiting for? Go impress me, Spider-Man."
Sunghoon never turned on his heel and began swinging away any faster.
Sunghoon flushed as he heard you giggling from the other room.
He hated the media, he hated it so much.
But, he had to admit, he was grateful for all the news outlets this one time.
Because truth be told, they caught some pretty badass shots of him kicking Giganto's ass.
Not because Sunghoon personally wanted cool pictures of himself, but because now you and Riki were rewatching clips of the fight in the other room. Riki giggled, exclaiming every other second and clapping his hands cutely, while you cooed not just at his cuteness, but at the way Sunghoon's muscles flexed in each shot.
He had to admit, the camerawork made the fight look a lot more intense than it actually was.
What actually went down was pretty simple.
Giganto made Sunghoon play a game of some sorts, some supervillain version of laser-tag. Sunghoon was going to be in ice-skates, and he was going to have to evade Giganto's Size-inator. The villain chose ice-skating because apparently it was way harder to move around in ice-skates than not. However, he completely forgot two very important facts.
The first one was that Spider-Man was... Well, Spider-Man. Sunghoon's abilities were heightened to the max, so his reflexes and physical capabilities transcended whatever man-made gadget Giganto had.
The second one was that Sunghoon was kickass at ice-skating, all thanks to the many times that he'd gone with you and Riki. There was something about showing off how good he was in front of you, the literal love of his life, that shaped Sunghoon into the absolute pro at ice-skating that he was now.
It's safe to say, Giganto's defeat was pathetic. He was arrested, and his identity was revealed to be some corporate slave trying to reach stardom through criminal activities.
Sunghoon had to force himself to take deep breaths, stifling the stupid grin threatening to spread on his face as he heard you and Riki's giggles.
"Are you guys ready to go?" he poked his head in through the doorway. "Oh wow."
There you were, wearing a pretty dress that hugged your body a little too well. Sunghoon's jaw went slack as his eyes glazed over your figure, gulping audibly as you made your way over to him.
"Hey there, Handsome," you purred, sliding your hands up his chest.
"Hi." No matter how long he's known you, how many times he's seen you in a figure-hugging dress, how many times you've kissed him until he saw stars, Sunghoon felt like putty in your presence.
"I love you in this color," you mused. You were definitely doing it on purpose, running your nails against his arm and getting all touchy.
Sunghoon's mouth felt dry. Was it getting hot it here, or was it just him? "Th-Thank you."
Linking fingers with Sunghoon, you pushed your chest forward and up against his chest.
"You know," you breathed against his neck. You smelled so good, your scent filled Sunghoon's head deliciously. "I've been waiting for tonight all week."
Sunghoon's palms were getting sweaty, goosebumps rising on his skin and the hairs on his neck standing up. "R-Really?"
"Of course," you cooed, before pulling away. You did a little twirl for him, showing off your dress.
"I'm ready," you smiled, your glossy lips moving in a way that made Sunghoon feel light-headed. You looked delicately over your shoulder, bursting out laughing. When Sunghoon peered over your shoulder, he also couldn't help but let chuckles fall from his lips.
"Riki, baby, what are you doing?!"
Riki was dressed up, but poor baby must have been tired, as he was all curled up against the floor, dozing off like nothing else mattered.
Tonight was a family night.
The plan was to go out for dinner as a family, and after, go home and watch a movie. It was a simple plan, but a plan that made Sunghoon all giddy with excitement. Riki wailed a little bit when you two woke him up, but just seeing you and Sunghoon's face made him peaceful in an instant.
Hand-in-hand, you, Sunghoon, and Riki walked off into the night.
And Sunghoon thought, there isn't anything else in the world that he could ask for.
Not when he was able to spend the rest of his life with his little family.
❝ When your friendly neighborhood spider-man is the guy who can't look you in the eyes for too long without blushing ❞ x gender neutral reader ⁽ᵗʰᵉʸ/ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵖʳᵒⁿᵒᵘⁿˢ⁾
────
🢒 SYNOPSIS
When Spider-Man saves you from a traffic accident, there's something oddly familiar about the guy, something you can't quite place. Your ice skating club partner Sunghoon has been acting weird for months, but you never expected his secret to be this big. As you keep running into Spider-Man and getting closer to the truth, you're about to discover that some masks are harder to see through than others, especially when the boy behind the mask has been desperately in love with you all along, too terrified to confess and too protective to stay away. Because with great power comes great danger, and you've just become Seoul's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man's biggest weakness.
𝓣he ice rink is empty at six in the morning, which is exactly why you love it.
Well, almost empty.
"You're leaning too far forward," Sunghoon's voice echoes across the rink, and you don't need to look to know he's gliding toward you with that effortless grace that made you both jealous and mesmerized when you first met. "Your weight distribution is off."
"Good morning to you too," you call back, but you adjust your posture anyway. After a year and a half of these early morning sessions, you've learned that Sunghoon's corrections, however blunt, are always right.
He comes to a stop beside you, and you catch the small smile tugging at his lips. "Morning. Better. Now try the sequence again."
You've been part of Seoul National University's ice skating club since freshman year, a decision made on a whim during club rush week. You'd expected a casual hobby, maybe some new friends. What you got was Park Sunghoon—figure skating prodigy, actual ice prince, and the most dedicated person you'd ever met—essentially adopting you as his personal project.
"I saw you almost eat it on that turn," you tease, pushing off into the routine.
"I was distracted."
"By what? Your own reflection?"
That earns you an actual laugh, the kind that crinkles his eyes and makes your stomach do a weird flip you've been determinedly ignoring since last semester. "Are you going to skate or are you going to talk?"
You stick your tongue out at him and launch into the sequence. Crossovers into a simple axel—you're not at Sunghoon's level and probably never will be, but you've gotten good enough that the club president asked if you wanted to perform in the winter showcase. The landing is a little shaky, but you manage to stay upright.
When you circle back, Sunghoon is watching you with an expression you can't quite read. Soft, maybe? Proud?
"What?"
He blinks, and the moment passes. "Nothing. That was good. Your arms need work, but the rotation was clean." He checks his phone, and something flickers across his face. Tension, maybe worry. "I have to head out soon. Early... appointment."
There it is again. That weird vagueness that's been plaguing him for months now.
You've noticed things lately. How could you not? Sunghoon, who used to stay for your entire practice session and then some, now leaves early at least twice a week with increasingly creative excuses. Last week it was a "dentist appointment" at seven in the morning. Before that, helping his roommate move furniture on a Wednesday at dawn.
And it's not just the leaving. He's been showing up with bruises—on his jaw, his arms, once a nasty one on his ribs you caught a glimpse of when he stretched and his shirt rode up. He always laughs them off. "Fell during practice." "Ran into a door." "You know me, clumsy."
Except Sunghoon is possibly the least clumsy person you've ever met. You've seen him land jumps that should be impossible. You've watched him catch falling objects without even looking. The other day, someone's phone slipped off the rink barrier, and he snatched it out of the air with reflexes that seemed almost superhuman.
"Another appointment?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light. "Sunghoon, if you've got a secret girlfriend or something, you can just tell me."
Something flashes in his eyes—hurt? panic?—before he schools his expression back to neutral. "No girlfriend. Secret or otherwise." He starts skating toward the exit, then pauses, glancing back. "Are you walking home after this?"
"Probably. Gonna practice for another hour."
"Text me when you get back?"
You raise an eyebrow. "Since when do you worry about my walk home?"
"Since always," he says quietly, and there's something in his voice that makes your heart skip. "Just... text me. Please?"
Before you can respond, he's gone, leaving you alone on the ice with more questions than answers.
✿.
Sunghoon makes it three blocks before he's ducking into an alley and pulling the suit from his backpack.
"Cutting it close," Jake's voice crackles through the newly upgraded comm system in his ear. "There's a robbery in progress in Gangnam. Convenience store on Teheran-ro."
"I know, I know." Sunghoon yanks the mask over his face, and the suit's interface flickers to life. Eight months. He's been doing this for eight months, and he still hasn't gotten used to the double life. The lying. "I was with—"
"Let me guess. Your 'friend' from ice skating?" Jake's tone is loaded with meaning that Sunghoon determinedly ignores.
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying, you've got it bad. Like, really bad. The longing looks? The excessive worrying? Dude, you asked me to track their phone last week—"
"For safety reasons!"
"Uh-huh." Sunghoon can practically hear Jake's smirk. "Sure. Very normal friend behavior. Hey, speaking of which, their route home from the rink passes through a pretty busy intersection. You know, if you wanted to coincidentally patrol that area—"
"Jake."
"I'm just your guy in the chair, man. I provide information. What you do with it is your business."
Sunghoon web-slings to the nearest building, and the familiar rush of adrenaline drowns out everything else. This, at least, he's good at. Being Spider-Man is easier than being Park Sunghoon, honor student and figure skater who's been pathetically in love with you since the moment you stumbled onto the ice during club rush week, all nervous energy and determined eyes.
He'd helped you up when you fell. You'd looked at him and said, "I'm definitely going to eat it like fifty more times, but I'm not quitting."
He'd been gone for you ever since.
The robbery takes fifteen minutes to handle. The convenience store owner thanks him profusely while Jake runs facial recognition on the perpetrators and alerts the police. It's routine now, almost easy.
"All clear," Sunghoon reports, perched on a rooftop overlooking the Han River. The morning sun is painting the water gold, and somewhere out there, you're still at the rink, practicing without him.
"Nice work, Spidey. Oh, hey—"
The tone shift in Jake's voice makes Sunghoon tense. "What?"
"Nothing urgent, just... you know how I monitor police scanners? There's been an uptick in muggings in the university area. Maybe mention to your 'friend' to be careful walking alone?"
Sunghoon's chest tightens. "How much of an uptick?"
"Relax, it's probably nothing. Just the usual city stuff. But you know, since you're so concerned about safety and all—"
"Send me the data."
"Already did. Seriously, though, you should just tell them how you feel. This pining thing is getting—"
"I'm not pining."
"You're absolutely pining. It's painful to watch. Even Heeseung noticed, and he's oblivious about everything."
Sunghoon thinks about this morning. The way you'd teased him, all easy smiles and casual affection. The way you have no idea that he shows up early specifically to skate with you, that he's rearranged his entire schedule around your practice times, that sometimes he patrols the route between your apartment and campus just to make sure you're safe.
"I can't tell them."
"Why not?"
Because if you knew how he felt, everything would change. Because your friendship is the one normal thing he has left, and he can't risk losing it. Because he's Spider-Man now, and everyone he cares about is a potential target.
Because he's terrified.
"Just drop it, Jake."
His friend sighs. "Fine. But for the record? They totally like you back."
"They don't."
"Do."
"Don't."
"Literally everyone can see it except you two. It's like watching a drama, but more frustrating because I can't skip to the confession scene."
Despite everything, Sunghoon smiles. "Don't you have class?"
"In an hour. Unlike you, I don't wake up at the crack of dawn to stare longingly at my crush—"
"I'm hanging up now."
"—while pretending it's about ice skating—"
"Goodbye, Jake."
He cuts the connection, but he's still smiling as he swings toward campus. He'll change, make it to his 9 AM lecture, and pretend that everything is normal. That he's just a regular student who's definitely not secretly Spider-Man and definitely not hopelessly in love with his skating partner.
Just another day.
✿.
By the time you finish practice, the rink is starting to fill up with the late morning crowd. You wave to a few other club members as you head to the lockers, your legs pleasantly sore from the workout.
Your phone buzzes with a text.
Sunghoon: Make sure you eat breakfast. You always forget after morning practice.
You can't help but smile. For all his recent weirdness, Sunghoon is still... Sunghoon. Thoughtful in ways he probably doesn't even realize, paying attention to small details that most people miss.
You: wow stalker much?
You: but yes mom ill eat
Sunghoon: I'm serious.
Sunghoon: And I'm not your mom.
You: couldve fooled me with all the nagging
You: im meeting heeseung and jay for lunch later anyway so ill be fed dont worry
There's a longer pause before his next text.
Sunghoon: Okay. Good.
Sunghoon: Be careful walking around campus. There's been some incidents lately.
You: incidents??
You: sunghoon ur being weird again
Sunghoon: Just be careful.
You stare at the messages, that familiar concern blooming in your chest again. He's definitely hiding something. The question is what.
Lunch with Heeseung and Jay is at the usual place—a cheap ramyeon spot near campus that's popular with students. You spot them at a corner table, already arguing about something.
"I'm telling you, Spider-Man is definitely a student here," Heeseung is saying as you approach. "Think about it. Most of his activity is in this area."
Jay rolls his eyes. "Seoul is huge. Just because he's active in Gangnam doesn't mean—oh, hey!" He spots you and waves. "Help me out here. Heeseung thinks Spider-Man goes to our school."
You slide into the booth. "Does it matter?"
"Yes!" Heeseung looks personally offended. "Dude, we could be sitting next to a literal superhero in class. That's insane. I have a list of suspects, actually—"
"Of course you do," Jay mutters.
"—and I'm pretty sure it's either that guy from the engineering department who's weirdly buff, or possibly—"
"It's not someone we know," you interrupt, laughing. "The chances of that are like, astronomical."
"But not zero!"
Jay shakes his head fondly. "How was practice? Sunghoon still being weird?"
"So weird," you confirm, gratefully accepting the menu. "He keeps leaving early and showing up with random bruises. And this morning he was all concerned about me walking home. Asked me to text him when I got back."
Heeseung and Jay exchange a look.
"What?" you demand.
"Nothing," they say in unison, which is never a good sign.
"Guys."
"It's just..." Heeseung leans forward, grinning. "You're really going to sit there and pretend you don't know why Sunghoon worries about you?"
"Because we're friends?"
Jay actually laughs. "Sure. Friends. That's definitely the reason he stares at you like you hung the moon whenever you're not looking."
Your face heats. "He does not—"
"He absolutely does," Heeseung confirms. "It's actually kind of painful. Like, the pining? Off the charts. I've never seen someone be so obvious and so oblivious at the same time."
"We're just friends," you insist, even as your heart does that stupid fluttering thing again. "And that doesn't explain why he's been acting so strange."
"Maybe he's trying to work up the courage to confess," Jay suggests, then laughs at your expression. "I'm serious! The weird behavior, the protectiveness, leaving early—maybe he's planning something."
"Or," Heeseung adds, "he's got some other secret he's worried about. Either way, there's definitely something going on."
You think about Sunghoon's face this morning. The careful way he'd watched you skate. The text messages telling you to be safe.
"Yeah," you say quietly. "There definitely is."
✿.
Sunghoon's organic chemistry lecture is a special kind of torture, and not because of the subject matter.
He's sitting three rows behind you. He can see the way you're doodling in the margins of your notes, the slight bounce of your leg that means you're either bored or thinking about something else. When you reach up to retie your hair, he has to physically force himself to look away.
"You're doing it again," Jake whispers from the seat beside him.
"Doing what?"
"The staring thing. It's creepy."
"I'm not—" Sunghoon cuts himself off as you glance back, and he quickly pretends to be very interested in his textbook. When he looks up again, you're smiling at him, and his heart does that stupid thing where it forgets how to beat properly.
He manages a small wave.
"Painful," Jake mutters. "Absolutely painful to witness."
After class, Sunghoon intends to catch up with you, maybe suggest studying together at the library. But his phone buzzes with an alert from the police scanner app Jake set up for him.
Jake: Armed robbery, two blocks from campus. You're up.
He curses under his breath.
"Hey!" You've appeared at his elbow, and Sunghoon nearly jumps. "You okay? You look stressed."
"I'm fine. Just—" His phone buzzes again. "I have to go. Sorry. Rain check on the library?"
That small furrow appears between your eyebrows, the one that means you're worried. "Sunghoon, seriously, if something's wrong—"
"Nothing's wrong." The lie tastes bitter. "I just forgot I have a... thing. For my lab partner. Group project."
"Right." You don't look convinced. "Okay. Text me later?"
"Yeah. Definitely."
He's already backing away, hating himself for the hurt that flickers across your face. Jake is waiting by the building exit, and together they duck into the nearest empty classroom.
"This is getting complicated," Jake says, standing guard while Sunghoon changes into the suit. "The lying to them specifically, I mean."
"I know."
"You could tell them. They'd understand—"
"No." Sunghoon pulls the mask on, and the interface lights up. "I can't put them at risk like that. It's bad enough that I—" He stops himself.
"That you what? Care about them? Dude, that's not exactly a secret. Except to them, apparently."
Sunghoon doesn't answer. He's already out the window, swinging toward the alert location, trying to ignore the ache in his chest that has nothing to do with physical exertion.
Being Spider-Man means protecting people. All people. But especially you.
Even if you never know it's him behind the mask.
✿.
You're heading home around seven that evening, the October sky already dark. Campus is quieter now, most students either at the library or already back in their dorms. You're mentally planning your evening—homework, maybe a call with your family, early bed so you can make morning practice—when your phone dies.
"Perfect," you mutter, stopping under a streetlight to dig through your bag for your portable charger. Which, of course, you forgot to pack this morning.
The walk home is only about fifteen minutes, straight shot down the main road and through a busy intersection. You've done it a hundred times. Nothing to worry about.
Except.
You can't shake the memory of Sunghoon's text. Be careful. There's been some incidents lately.
You pick up your pace slightly, keeping to the well-lit parts of the sidewalk. It's fine. You're being paranoid. This is one of the safest neighborhoods in Seoul, and there are still plenty of people around—
Your dropped your lip balm into the street.
It's stupid. It's a three dollar lip balm. But you didn't care, and without thinking, you step off the curb to grab it.
That's when you hear it. The screech of tires. The blaring horn.
You look up.
Headlights. Coming fast. Too fast.
Your brain screams at your legs to move, but you're frozen, deer in headlights literally, and there's no time, the car is going to hit you—
Something slams into you from the side.
Not the car. Something else. Someone else.
You're airborne for a heart-stopping second, then you're cradled against something solid, something that smells like fabric and faintly like rain, and then you're on the sidewalk, safe, shaking, alive.
"Are you okay?"
The voice is young. Male. Concerned.
You look up into the white-eyed mask of Spider-Man.
Seoul's Spider-Man is holding you. Has his arms around you, actually, one hand cradling the back of your head like you're something precious. Your face is pressed against his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat—racing, pounding, way too fast even for someone who just performed a rescue.
"I—" Your voice comes out shaky. "I'm okay. You—thank you. You saved my—"
"You can't just step into the street like that." There's something almost frantic in his voice. "You could have been killed. Do you understand? You—" He cuts himself off, and even through the mask, you can sense him trying to collect himself. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"
"No. No, I'm fine. Thanks to you."
You're still in his arms. He hasn't let go. If anything, his hold tightens slightly, like he's assuring himself you're really okay.
Slowly, carefully, he helps you stand. But even then, his hands hover near your shoulders, like he's ready to catch you if you fall.
"You should be more careful," he says, and there's something in his voice. Something familiar that you can't quite place. "Especially at night. This area... it's not always safe."
"I've walked this route a hundred times."
"I know."
You blink. "You... know?"
There's a pause, brief but noticeable. "I mean—I patrol this area often. I've probably seen you around. Lots of students use this route." He's rambling now, and somehow that makes him seem more human. Less superhero, more... person. "Just. Please be careful. Okay?"
"Okay," you say softly.
Behind you, the car that almost hit you has stopped. The driver is getting out, apologizing profusely, asking if you're alright. Spider-Man tenses.
"I should—I have to go. Please." He squeezes your shoulder once, gently. "Be safe."
And then he's gone, web slinging up to the nearest building and disappearing into the night.
You stand there for a long moment, shaking, the driver still talking at you. But you're not really listening.
You're thinking about the way Spider-Man held you. The desperate edge in his voice. The way he said I know like he really did know you, specifically.
And that feeling of familiarity that you can't shake.
Like you've been held like that before.
Like you know those hands.
✿.
Sunghoon makes it two blocks before he has to stop, perched on a rooftop, hands shaking so badly he can barely grip the edge of the building.
"Sunghoon?" Jake's voice in his ear is urgent. "Sunghoon, talk to me. What happened? Your vitals are all over the place—"
"They almost died." His voice doesn't sound like his own. "Jake, Y/N almost—right in front of me—"
"But they didn't. You saved them. Y/N's okay."
"I almost didn't make it in time." The image is burned into his brain. You, frozen in the street. The car, too close, too fast. The split second where he thought he might lose you. "I was on the other side of the block. If I'd been any further—"
"But you weren't. You were there. They're safe."
Sunghoon pulls off his mask, gasping for air that suddenly feels too thin. His hands are still shaking. He'd held you. Had you in his arms, alive and warm and scared, and it had taken every ounce of his control not to give himself away. Not to say your name, not to hold on too tight, not to let you hear how terrified he was.
"I told them I knew them," he says quietly. "I slipped. Almost said their name."
"Did they notice?"
"I don't know. Maybe. They looked..." He closes his eyes. "They looked at me like they were trying to figure something out."
"Sunghoon—"
"I have to tell them." The words surprise him, but once they're out, he knows they're true. "Not about Spider-Man. But about... how I feel. If something happened and I never told them—"
"Okay," Jake says gently. "Okay. But maybe not tonight? Give yourself a minute to breathe."
Sunghoon nods, even though Jake can't see him. His phone buzzes—his personal phone, not the one connected to the suit.
It's from you.
You: so i almost just got hit by a car
You: but spider-man saved me
You: which is tuff i guess
You: except now i cant stop shaking and my phone was dead so i couldnt call anyone and
You: can i call you?
His thumb hovers over the screen.
"Go," Jake says. "Be Park Sunghoon right now, not Spider-Man. They need their friend."
Sunghoon changes back into his regular clothes faster than he ever has, and calls you before he can overthink it.
You answer on the first ring.
"Hey." Your voice is small, shaky in a way that breaks his heart.
"Hey. Are you okay? Where are you?"
"Still on the street. The driver was really nice, kept apologizing. I'm fine, just..." A shaky breath. "It was really close, Hoon."
The nickname makes his chest ache. "I'm coming to get you. Don't move. Where exactly are you?"
You tell him, and he's already running, using every shortcut he knows. He makes it in under five minutes, which would be impressive if he wasn't still terrified.
When he spots you, sitting on a bench under a streetlight, still looking shaken, something in him breaks and reforms all at once.
"Hey," he says softly, and you look up.
Then you're standing, and he's pulling you into a hug before he can think better of it. You melt into him immediately, face pressed against his shoulder, hands clutching his jacket.
"I'm okay," you mumble. "Spider-Man caught me. I'm okay."
"I know. I know." He holds you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head. Just like he did ten minutes ago, when you didn't know it was him. "You're okay."
You stay like that for a long moment, and Sunghoon tries to memorize it. The way you fit against him. The trust in the way you lean into his hold.
When you finally pull back, you're looking at him with an odd expression.
"What?" he asks.
"Nothing. Just..." You shake your head. "Thanks for coming. I know it's late."
"You can always call me." He means it more than you could possibly know. "No matter what time. If you need me, I'm there."
The walk back to your apartment is quiet. Sunghoon keeps one hand on your back, guiding you around puddles and uneven pavement. At your door, you hesitate.
"Do you want to come up? I don't really want to be alone right now."
He should say no. He has an essay due tomorrow, and a physics problem set he hasn't started. But you're looking at him with those eyes, and he's never been able to say no to you.
"Yeah. Of course."
Your apartment is small but cozy, decorated with pictures and plants and string lights that make everything feel warm. Sunghoon has been here before, for study sessions and movie nights, but tonight it feels different. More intimate, somehow.
You make tea—chamomile, which you claim is calming but Sunghoon knows you just like the taste. He sits on your couch and tries not to think about how much he wants this to be his normal.
Coming home to you. Taking care of you. Being the person you call when you're scared.
"Here." You hand him a mug and curl up next to him, closer than usual. "Thanks again. For coming. For..." You gesture vaguely. "Everything."
"Always."
"You're quiet for a moment, sipping your tea. Then: "Can I tell you something weird?"
"Sure."
"When Spider-Man caught me... there was something familiar about him. Not like I know him, but..." You frown, trying to articulate it. "The way he held me. It reminded me of something. Someone."
Sunghoon's heart stops. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. It's stupid. Obviously I don't know Spider-Man. But for a second, when he was making sure I was okay, it felt like..." You trail off, shaking your head. "Never mind. Probably just the shock talking."
"Probably," Sunghoon manages.
You lean your head on his shoulder, and he freezes for a second before relaxing into it. This is okay. This is normal. Friends do this.
Except his heart is racing, and your hair smells like that vanilla shampoo you always use, and you're warm against his side, and nothing about this feels friendly.
"Hoon?"
"Yeah?"
"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right? If you were in trouble or something?"
The question catches him off-guard. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you've been weird lately. Distant. And I'm worried about you." You sit up to look at him properly. "I know something's going on. You don't have to tell me what, but... I want you to know that I'm here. Whatever it is."
He could tell you. Right now, right here, he could tell you everything. About the spider bite eight months ago, about the powers, about spending every night swinging through Seoul trying to keep people safe. About being terrified every second that someone he loves will get hurt because of him.
About how he's been in love with you since freshman year and doesn't know how to say it.
But looking at your open, trusting face, still shaky from almost dying tonight, he can't do it. Can't add another burden to your shoulders.
"I know," he says instead. "And I appreciate it. I'm okay, I promise. Just... stressed with school."
You don't look entirely convinced, but you let it drop. "Okay. But the offer stands."
"Same to you. You scared me tonight. When you texted..." He has to look away. "Just promise me you'll be more careful. Please."
"I promise."
You settle back against him, and this time Sunghoon lets himself enjoy it. Lets himself pretend, just for a moment, that this is something more than friendship. That he has the right to hold you like this, to want to protect you like this.
Your breathing evens out after a while, and Sunghoon realizes you've fallen asleep. He should probably wake you, make sure you get to bed properly. But he can't bring himself to move.
His phone buzzes quietly. A text from Jake.
Jake: You good?
Sunghoon: Yeah. I'm with Y/N.
Jake: Still think you should tell them. Both things.
Sunghoon: I know.
But not tonight. Tonight, you're safe in his arms, and that's enough.
For now, that has to be enough.
When you wake up the next morning, you're in your bed with no memory of getting there. There's a glass of water on your nightstand, your phone plugged in and charging, and a note in Sunghoon's handwriting.
Didn't want to wake you. Make sure you eat breakfast. See you at practice? - SH
You smile despite yourself, then wince as the memories of last night come flooding back. The car. Spider-Man. The weird sense of familiarity you still can't shake.
Your phone has several texts.
Sunghoon: [sent at 11:47 PM] You fell asleep. I'm heading out. Lock your door.
Sunghoon: [sent at 11:48 PM] And seriously, be careful today. Please.
Jake: [sent at 8:23 AM] heard about last night!! you okay??
Heeseung: [sent at 8:30 AM] JAY JUST TOLD ME YOU ALMOST GOT HIT BY A CAR????
Heeseung: WHY DIDNT YOU TEXT THE GROUP CHAT
Jay: [sent at 8:31 AM] Ignore Heeseung. But seriously, you good?
You send a quick message to the group chat assuring everyone you're fine, then stare at Sunghoon's texts.
That worry again. That intense concern that feels like more than friendship but you're too scared to examine too closely.
The way he'd held you last night. Steady and sure and safe.
The way Spider-Man had held you. Desperate and terrified and...
Familiar.
You shake your head. You're being ridiculous. Sunghoon can't be Spider-Man. That's insane. He's a figure skater with a perfect GPA who's never even been in a fight. He's not a superhero.
Right?
...Right?
But as you get ready for morning practice, you can't quite shake the feeling that you're missing something obvious.
Something important.
Something about the way Park Sunghoon looks at you when he thinks you're not paying attention.
PLOT! After leaving Gotham and moving to Metropolis, you finally got a job at the Daily Planet. Only problem? Theres one guy who's always late yet always gets the scoop. And boy, do you hate him. Alternatively: A list of the things you hate about your coworker, Park Sunghoon.
CONTENT! Sunghoon/Fem!Reader, Superman!Sunghoon, Gotham!Reader, slight rivals to lovers but its one sided, everybody works at the Daily Planet, you hate love sunghoon and he's obsessed with you, SMUT MDNI IM NOT KIDDING, p in v, oral (fem Receiving), slight overstim if u squint
AUTHORS NOTE! ok fun fact this is my old superman fic that i archived and i reworked it into being sunghoon so if it looks familiar i didnt copy bc its legit my work... also im keeping the fact that theyre in metropolis, but im changing sunghoon from being from bumblefuck midwest america to south jeolla to fit the country-esque vibe. PLEASE let me know if there are any errors i wrote this over a year ago and simply just changed names and places pls help a girl out.
Metropolis is cleaner than Gotham, sure. Shinier. The streets sparkle like they’ve never seen a body chalked on the pavement, and people here walk a little faster—like they’re going somewhere they actually want to be. But beneath the polish, it’s the same grind. New City, same newsroom.
You should’ve known The Daily Planet wouldn’t be much different than The Gotham Gazette. The coffee is just as burnt, the interns just as sweaty, and deadlines still loiter like stormclouds, waiting to downpour. You expected chaos. What you didn’t expect was Park Sunghoon.
He’s late.
Every. Damn. Day.
You hear him before you see him—always the same: the hurried shuffle of too-big shoes, the frantic slam of a shoulder against the swinging glass door, and the apologetic murmur of “Morning” that barely beats out the time clock.
You don’t even look up from your monitor. “It’s 9:47.”
Sunghoon wheezes into his cubicle—which, of course, is right next to yours. His tie is crooked, his glasses fogged, and his hair’s got a single, infuriatingly perfect curl bouncing on his forehead like it was placed there by angels.
“Yeah,” He huffs. “Sorry. There was traffic.”
There’s always traffic in Metropolis. But that excuse is wearing thin, especially when he is the only one in the building who acts like he has to physically leap over it.
You finally glance up, deadpan. “You know who else got stuck in traffic today? Me. Chaewon. The kid from copy who literally rides a unicycle to work. We all still made it to work on time.”
He runs a hand through his hair and smiles sheepishly, like that’s supposed to mean something. And somehow, it always does—with everyone else. Chaewon laughs it off. Riki yells, but only half-heartedly. Even Jake calls him “Jeolla” like it’s an inside joke and not an indictment of his hometown and somehow his incompetence.
But you?
You are not charmed.
You’re Gotham born and bred. You’ve filed stories from under police tape, from fire escapes, from alleys where the blood was still wet. You didn’t claw your way out of that city just to share a byline with a man who treats deadlines like vague suggestions and shows up to work looking like he just wrestled a tornado.
Again!
“You’ve been late every day this week, Park,” You mutter, turning back to your monitor. “If you’re aiming for a record, congrats. You’re winning.”
He’s quiet for a beat. You think you’ve shut him up, finally. But then—“I’ve never really been good at winning things,” He says softly, almost like he’s talking to himself.
You glance at him from the corner of your eye. There’s something about the way he says it, not pathetic. Just… strange. Like maybe he means something bigger. You almost ask.
Almost.
Instead, you scoff and shake your head. “Try winning a Pulitzer. Might help your case.”
He grins again, that irritating, dimpled grin, and unpacks his bag like he didn’t walk in almost an hour later. You hate that he’s always late. You hate that nobody seems to care. You hate that he never has a good excuse, but still somehow gets away with it.
And most of all?
You hate that you’re starting to care enough to notice.
2 ── You hate his "aw shucks" act.
If Park Sunghoon’s lateness is a thorn in your side, then his personality is the knife twisting next to it.
Not that it’s a bad personality, exactly. That’s the problem. On paper, he’s the perfect coworker—polite, humble, well-liked by every living soul in the building. He holds elevators. He offers to do coffee runs even when it’s pouring. He once helped Heeseung from Archives fix the jammed printer with nothing but a safety pin and a hopeful smile.
People adore him. They smile when he walks into the room. Laugh at his dumb jokes. Trust him.
You do not.
Because you’ve been watching. You’ve been taking mental notes since week two. That “aw shucks, I’m just a small-town guy from Jeolla” routine is too well rehearsed. No one is that gentle and that oblivious. No one stammers through meetings and then turns in a perfect copy by the end of the day. No one is that clumsy—spilling coffee, tripping over wires—and yet somehow always lands on their feet.
You didn’t come from Gotham to fall for the world’s oldest trick.
So when he chuckles nervously after Chaewon slaps him on the back for landing a quote from the Steel Syndicate leader—a quote you had been chasing for a week—you grit your teeth and mutter:
“Oh, give me a break!”
Sunghoon turns to you, blinking. “Sorry?”
You don’t bother to fake it. “You play the ‘golly gee’ routine, but you’re sharper than you act. And frankly, it’s annoying.”
His brows knit behind his glasses. “I’m not acting.”
You arch an eyebrow. “Right. You just accidentally out-interviewed me and walked away with the best lead we’ve had all quarter.”
He laughs, scratching the back of his neck, all bashful. “I really wasn't trying to one-up you. I just—I guess he liked me?”
You scoff. “Of course he did,” You mumble. “Everyone does. Must be the charm of your down-home, butter-wouldn’t-melt-bullshit!”
“I’m from Jeolla, not Nebraska,” He says, like that explains everything.
You lean forward across your desk, voice low. “I’ve met people from Jeolla. They don’t act like they’ve never heard someone curse before.”
Sunghoon shrinks back slightly, like your words sting, but there’s a twitch of something else in his eyes—like he’s fighting a smile.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse,” He offers gently.
You narrow your eyes. “I save it for when I’m alone. Or keep it in my head. Like right now, for example. Internally? It’s a full symphony of four-letter words.”
He snorts, an actual snort, then claps a hand over his mouth like he’s embarrassed by it. That’s when you realize something terrifying. He’s not pretending to be harmless.
He is harmless.
And that somehow makes it worse.
Because no one is harmless in this job. Not in journalism. Not in Metropolis. Especially not if they’re good at it. And Sunghoon? Despite the dopey smile, the apologies, the way he trips over every desk in the bullpen. Sunghoon is very good at it.
You hate that his small town bullshit works. You hate that it makes people underestimate him. You hate that it almost worked on you. But the worst part? You’re starting to realize it’s not an act. It’s who he is.
And that makes you want to scream.
3 ── You hate how he somehow always gets the exclusive.
There’s something sacred about how the word exclusive in a newsroom. It’s the holy grail—the thing that earns you front pages, corner offices, Pulitzers. You’ve chased exclusives down back alleys, stayed on hold for eons, bribed a coffee-stained secretary with two croissants and a MetroCard just to get one measly quote from a crooked city councilman
But somehow, Park Sunghoon just gets them.
Every. Fucking. Time.
He never brags. That would at least make him bearable. He just shows up—late, of course—shrugs off his coat, and drops a crisp interview transcript on Riki’s desk like he tripped over it on the sidewalk.
It’s infuriating.
You first noticed it during the Union Square train derailment. Superman was spotted hauling survivors out of the wreckage. No reporters got near him. Police kept everyone back. Even Chaewon couldn’t get close. And she's Chaewon!
But the next morning?
There it was: Superman Speaks on Metropolis Disaster by Park Sunghoon.
You stared at the byline like it had personally offended you. Your fingers hovered over your keyboard as you read the quote—exclusive, lengthy, insightful. Too insightful.
“He said that?” You asked Sunghoon across the bullpen.
Sunghoon blinked. “Uh, yeah. He flew by while I was walking back from a source.”
You narrowed your eyes. “And what, he just… pulled you into the sky for a heart-to-heart?”
Sunghoon smiled, bashful. “We’ve talked a few times.”
You nearly choked on your burnt coffee.
A few times?
Since then, it’s been quote after quote. Superman says this. Superman warns that. Every piece is conveniently labeled “as told to Park Sunghoon.” You’ve pitched a dozen stories with solid leads, real impact, and Riki still passes them over in favor of Sunghoon’s Superman exclusives.
You’ve tried to ask how he does it. Casually. Aggressively. Once while both of you were on a stakeout at a warehouse near Suicide Slums, you even offered him your last protein bar if he’d just tell you how the hell he keeps finding Superman.
Sunghoon just smiled. That soft, maddeningly patient smile, and said, “I think he trusts me.”
Trusts him.
Like Superman sits around rating journalists on a Yelp scale.
You stare across the bullpen now, watching Sunghoon quietly type something into his terminal. He looks like a librarian. One of those sleepy, gentle ones who offer you a tissue when you cry reading To Kill a Mockingbird.
And yet somehow, he gets the hero in blue to spill his guts.
You hate it.
You hate that it makes you question your own work. You hate that you keep looking for the cracks in his story, the thing that explains how he’s doing this. You’ve doubled-checked timestamps. Scrubbed security footage. Asked sources. Nothing adds up.
No one sees Sunghoon talking to Superman.
And yet Sunghoon knows things. Small details. Direct quotes. Reassurances Superman has never given anyone else.
You lean back in your chair and stare at the ceiling. Either Park Sunghoon is the luckiest man in Metropolis… or he’s hiding something.
And you don’t believe in luck.
4 ── You hate that he doesn't talk shit.
Newsrooms run on gossip.
That’s just a fact.
You don’t survive in this field—not in this city—without learning to weaponise information. It’s part of the culture. You swap barbs while the coffee brews, trade snark over late-night edits, hurl critiques and conspiracies like dodgeballs. Everyone does it. It keeps you sane. Keeps you sharp.
Except Sunghoon.
Sunghoon doesn’t talk shit.
At first, you assumed it was a tactic. A kind of passive power play, let everyone else tear each other down while he keeps his hands clean and his halo polished. You even waited for him to crack. Made space for it.
Chaewon stormed past your desks muttering, “If I have to rewrite one more of Franklin’s clickbait trash, I swear to God—” and you turned to Sunghoon, ready.
Nothing.
He just said, “Franklin’s trying to juggle two kids and night school. He’s doing the best he can.”
You blinked. “That’s your take? Really?”
Sunghoon smiled, easy. “Well, it’s not like yelling about it helps.”
You stared at him for a full beat, then scoffed. “Wow. How do you make ‘reasonable’ sound so smug?”
He laughed. Not mocking. Not defensive. Just… amused.
It keeps happening.
Gina in Copy fakes sick twice in one week to go see her boyfriend in Coast City. Nobody buys it. You expect Sunghoon to at least comment. Something gentle, like “Must be nice to have a love life” but he just covers her calls without being asked.
When Jungwon blows a quote in a city council interview, you hear three people mutter about it near the break room. Sunghoon hears too. You watch his eyes flick in that direction, but he doesn’t engage. He just brings Jungwon a coffee the next morning with no explanation.
You don’t get it.
You’ve worked with assholes and saints and everything in between. But there’s always a crack. A vent. A gripe. A single “Jesus Christ, can you believe this guy?” at happy hour.
Sunghoon? He smiles, he listens. He takes the fall for other people's mistakes, and never once asks for anything in return.
It’s not that he’s quiet. He barks. He just doesn’t bite.
You should hate it. Actually, no, you do hate it.
Because it makes you feel mean. Makes you feel like every time you roll your eyes or mutter something under your breath, you’re the one slinging mud at a guy who just… doesn’t throw it back.
He’s not better than you. That’s what you tell yourself. He’s not better. He’s just boring. But that’s not true, is it?
Because when Carol’s mom lands in the hospital, he’s the one who quietly organizes a grocery drop-off.
When Riki has a meltdown over a typo in the Sunday headline, Sunghoon doesn’t flinch. He just calmly fixes it. Compliments the new intern’s formatting, and reminds Riki to breathe.
When you come in one morning with three hours of sleep and that coil, pre-caffeine snarl already at your lips, he places a black coffee on your desk without saying a word.
You hate how it makes your chest tighten.
You hate that he makes kindness look easy—not loud or performative or fake, just… part of him.
You hate that you’re starting to notice how often his eyes go soft when someone’s having a bad day.
You hate how your shoulders drop just a little when he walks in.
You hate how, for all the ways he frustrates you, he never gives you a real reason to hate him back.
You tap your pen against your notebook and glances at him—across the bullpen, bent over his desk, tie askew, glasses sliding down, that same stupid curl on his forehead. He’s reading something, mouth twitching like he might laugh, and you watch him longer than you mean to.
You shake yourself.
No.
This is just a strategy. Observation. Knowing your competition. It’s not softness. It’s not a crush. It’s not a slow-burn, late-blooming kind of fondness, the kind that sneaks up on you when you’re too tired to fight it.
It’s not.
You just hate that he doesn’t talk shit. That’s all.
5 ── You hate how he remembers everything you say.
You’re not the type of person who expects people to remember things.
You’ve had too many conversations die halfway through a sentence. Too many men nod politely, only to ask you the same question a week later like they never heard your answer the first time. You’ve learned to file your words under ‘for now’—disposable, temporary, forgettable.
Park Sunghoon doesn’t see it that way.
You noticed it during your first lunch break, maybe two weeks in. You’d been ranting—venting, truly—about how every salad in Metropolis comes pre-drenching in some sort of smug artisanal vinaigrette. You weren’t even talking to him. Just muttering to yourself while stabbing a piece of limp kale in the breakroom.
The next day, he passed you a plain turkey sandwich from the deli on 6th and said, “They don’t just dressing unless you ask. Though you might like it.”
You blinked at him
“You remembered that?” You asked, caught off guard.
Sunghoon shrugged with a smile. “You seemed passionate.”
You were half convinced it was a fluke. But it wasn’t.
Because the pattern kept happening.
You mentioned once—once—that your favorite weather is when it rains but the sun’s still out. A week later, during one of those golden, misty drizzles, he caught up to you on the steps and said, “Looks like your kind of day, huh?”
You told him offhandedly that your least favorite movie trope is the girl tripping while running. Three nights later, you passed each other in the hallways after working late, and he asked if you’d seen the new action flick in theaters. “No tripping heroines, I promise.”
You said that once your dad used to call you ‘kid’ and that no one’s used the word since.
He’s never called you that. But you catch him hesitating once. Mid-sentence. Like it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it.
You don’t know how to feel about that.
Because you never asked him to remember. You never wanted him to.
You’ve known people who remember birthdays because Facebook reminds them. Or likes and dislikes so they can use them later. But Sunghoon? He never uses it. He just stores it. Quietly. Thoughtfully. Like your words matter. Like they’re puzzle pieces he’s collecting, not to solve you, but to understand you.
And maybe that’s what bothers you most.
Because no one’s ever tried to understand you.
Not really.
Gotham trained you to guard your secrets with blood. To keep your walls high, your smile sarcastic, your stories brief and impersonal. But Sunghoon listens like he’s trying to paint a picture of you in his head, one brushstroke at a time.
And you despise it.
You hate that it makes you feel seen.
You hate that it makes you feel real.
You hate that it makes you wonder how much you’ve remembered about him.
You glance at his desk. Same stupid Superman bobblehead he swore he didn’t buy himself. Same chipped I Heart Korea mug. Same pair of extra reading glasses tucked into the drawer, just in case.
You remember that he doesn’t like spicy food. That he uses semicolons like they’re going out of style. That he hums the theme from Star Wars when he’s writing something he’s proud of.
You remember way too much.
So maybe you don’t hate that he remembers everything you say. Maybe you hate that you’ve started doing it too.
6 ── You hate that he looks at you like he sees you.
There’s a kind of look people give you when they think they know who you are.
Back in Gotham, it was always the same—calculating, wary, sometimes impressed. You were the youngest on the crime desk, the loudest in the pitch room, the one with the sharpest elbows and the thinnest armor. People look at you like a problem to solve or a rival to beat.
But that’s not how Sunghoon looks at you. He looks at you like you’re someone. Not a headline. Not a byline. Not the girl from Gotham with a chip on her shoulder and a pen like a scalpel.
Just you.
And it drives you batshit crazy.
Because it’s not just in meetings, when you sneak up and catch his gaze across the table—it’s in the little moments. When you’re half-asleep at your desk and he walks by with a fresh coffee. When you’re biting your tongue in an argument and he gives you a look like he already knows what you want to say. When you laugh—really laugh—and you see him watching like it’s a rare event he doesn’t want to interrupt.
It’s too much. Too soft. Too honest. You don’t want to be known like that. Not by him. Not by anyone.
But he keeps doing it. Like it’s effortless. Like seeing you, the real you, the messy and angry and guarded parts is just what happens when he looks at someone.
And you hate that you notice it. And you hate that some small, quiet part of you never wants him to stop.
7 ── You hate how nervous he makes you feel.
You’re not nervous around people.
You’ve been yelled at by corrupt mayors. Cornered by gang members for writing the wrong names in the right story. You’ve told a Gotham crime boss to spell his name correctly if he wants to be quoted. You know how to stand your ground, spine straight, heart steady.
But Sunghoon makes you so nervous that you might shit your pants.
Not in the usual nervous way—not in the way bad people do. He doesn’t threaten or belittle or hover too close. No, Sunghoon stands a respectful distance away and still somehow manages to get under your skin. He fidgets when you talk. He laughs at your sarcasm. He listens like he’s memorizing you on purpose.
And lately… you’ve been messing things up.
You dropped your pen the other day. Three times. In one meeting.
You forgot what you were saying mid-sentence when he looked at you—just looked at you—like the whole room had gone quiet except for you.
You called him Sunghoon and it came out soft, almost breathless, and it startled you. Like your mouth knew something your brain just hadn’t caught up with yet.
When you brushed against him near the elevator, shoulder to shoulder, your pulse stuttered. Not fear. Not irritation. Something else. Then it hit you.
You like him.
God, you like him.
You like his stupid glasses and his kind eyes and the way he always holds the door for people even when they don't say thank you. You like the way he scribbles notes in the margins of his reporter’s notebook and the way he lights up when someone says the words human interest. You like that he takes his job seriously without ever acting like he’s the smartest man in the room.
You like that he’s good. You trust him. And that might scare you more than anything else on this planet.
You hate that he makes you nervous, because it means your guard is down. And you never let your guard down. Especially not for someone like him. Especially not when he might possibly, slightly, maybe, feel the same way.
Because if he does.. if he does… you’re not sure what happens now.
8 ── You hate that he's Superman.
You almost died today.
Not in the dramatic, flashing-lights-before-your-eyes kind of way. More like sudden and sharp. One second, you were walking past LexCorp Tower with a coffee in hand. The next, the sky cracked open with a sound like the earth tearing apart, and something enormous. A ship? A drone? It spiraled out of control and straight into the street.
You didn’t scream. Not at first. Your body froze instead, the kind of instinct that Gotham should’ve removed. Get big, get loud. Scare the monster away from you.
But flight or fight invited a friend to the party. Fawn. And she told you not to move a muscle. To get small. Get still. And pray to Jesus of Nazareth that the monster passes.
It didn’t.
It was coming right for you.
And then, just like every headline you’d ever written about him, Superman was there.
He was a blur at first. Then red. Then blue. Then everything stopped. The drone crumpled against the pavement thirty feet away, a crater the size of a bus sinking into the asphalt. Wind whipped around you, debris in your hair, your coffee exploded on the ground. And in the center of it all, standing perfectly fine like the chaos had bent around him on purpose—
Him.
Superman.
He turned to you, eyes impossibly soft for someone who could tear steel apart with his bare hands. “Are you hurt?”
You nodded dumbly. Maybe you shook your head. You don’t remember. Your voice wasn’t working.
He gave you a smile, the kind that should’ve made you feel safe. It did. But it also unsettled something deep in your chest. Almost like recognition.
He took off again in a gust of air and cape and godlike power, and you stood there shaking, your hands empty.
That night, you sat cross-legged on your couch with the local news running in the background, half-heartedly typing notes for tomorrow’s article. You watched grainy footage of Superman returning a flaming car to the street like it was a paper toy. You watched people cheering, waving, chanting his name.
You knew he was a hero. You knew he’d saved countless lives. But seeing him up close? Feeling the air shift around him, the sheer weight of him?
It rattled you.
And yet, what kept circling in your brain wasn’t just the blur of the cape or the force of the landing. It was his eyes.
The way he looked at you.
Like he knew you. Like he saw you.
And then your fingers stopped moving.
Because you’d seen that look before.
Early this week. At the Daily Planet. In the elevator, when you’d complained about the vending machine eating your dollar.
Sunghoon had looked at you like that.
You stared at the paused frame on your screen. Superman mid-turn, mid-expression.
You grabbed your phone, opened the gallery. A photo Jungwon had taken at Chaewon’s birthday last month. Sunghoon, standing beside you with that same crooked smile. Same jawline. Same posture.
Your heart sank.
No.
You looked again.
You zoomed in.
And all at once, every thing—every late arrival, every exclusive quote, every ‘You okay?’ after a tremor, every ‘How did he know?’—every moment fell into place like puzzle pieces you’d been too close to see.
Park Sunghoon is Superman.
You sat there frozen, blinking at the screen as a sick kind of heat spread through your chest. You hate that he’s Superman.
Not because he’s dangerous. Not because he lied—though God, he did.
You hate it because you were just starting to fall for Sunghoon. Sweet, awkward, late-to-everything Sunghoon. Now you’re not sure where Sunghoon ends and Superman begins.
And worst of all? You’re not sure which one of them you’re in love with.
9 ── You hate how he touches you.
You told yourself it was for the story.
That inviting Sunghoon over to your apartment—late, after deadline, with a six-pack in the fridge and the lights dimmed just enough to feel casual—was a journalistic strategy. You even made a notepad with scribbled questions, highlighted sources in your phone, and pulled up three articles from the Planet’s archive as “references.”
But deep down, you knew exactly what you were doing.
Sunghoon knocked once. Polite. Timid. He always knocked like he didn’t want to disturb you, even when he had to enter the bullpen three minutes before a press conference with ink on his tie. You opened the door and didn’t let yourself look too long at the way his glasses slid down his nose or how the sleeves of his white button-down were rolled to his forearms.
He stepped in, soft-voiced as ever. “You said you needed help with something?”
“An article,” You said, breezy. “About Superman.”
And God, you said his name like a test.
Sunghoon blinked. Just once. Just barely. But you caught it.
You offered him a beer. You talked. You took notes on nothing. And he sat there—not relaxed, exactly, but trying to act like he was. He always had this charming nervousness to him. But now that you knew—knew—it wasn’t nerves. It was restraint. It was a man constantly folding himself into something smaller to pass unnoticed.
You kept waiting for him to lie.
He didn’t.
So you forced his hand.
You said it like it didn’t cost you anything: “You’re Superman.”
Silence. Stillness. The longest pause you’d ever heard.
He didn’t deny it.
He didn’t laugh it off.
He just looked at you.
And it was like the air in the room shifted. Something cracked open between you. Not hostile. Not afraid. Just honest.
“You’ve known?” He asked quietly.
“I figured it out after the LexCorp thing. The way you looked at me.”
He closed his eyes. Like he was trying to protect you from something—or maybe protect himself from what he already knew was coming next.
“I never meant to lie,” He said. “Not to you.”
“But you did,” You replied. “Every day.”
And you should’ve been furious. You should’ve thrown him out. Written the article. Exposed everything. But you didn’t.
Because all you could think about was the way he looked at you in the cratered street. The way he always hovered a second longer when your hands brushed. The way he saw you—really saw you—even before you ever knew who he was.
And the way he touched you now, when he reached across the table to cover your hand with his own—gentle, grounding, warm.
You hated it.
You hated the way the contact burned up your arm and across your chest like he’d set your blood alight. You hated how steady it felt, how calm, how wanted. You hated the way it made you lean in, just slightly, like gravity was tugging you toward him.
“You’re mad,” He said.
“I should be.”
He swallowed. “Are you?”
You looked at him—really looked—and saw all of it. The weight of two lives. The softness behind the cape. The man who brought you coffee when you were hungover. The man who pulled a collapsing building off a school bus.
Park Sunghoon. Superman. Both. All.
And you hated that he made you feel like this. Hated the way his fingers curled around yours like he’d been waiting to do it for months. Hated that your heart was pounding so loud you were afraid he could hear it.
You stood.
He stood too.
You should’ve said something. Pulled back. Cut it off.
But when he stepped forward, eyes locked on yours—when he hesitated, like he needed your permission—and when you didn’t stop him—
His mouth met yours, and the world dropped out.
You hated the way it made you forget every single reason you were supposed to hate him. Hated the way his hands were patient, reverent, like he was memorizing the shape of you. Hated the way you melted into him like you’d done this a thousand times in another life.
You hated the sound you made when he pressed you gently against the wall. Hated the tremble in your breath when his lips found the spot just beneath your jaw. Hated how badly you wanted him—and not just the cape. Not just the secret.
Him.
Sunghoon.
You pulled him closer.
And in that moment, you didn’t hate anything at all.
You didn’t mean for it to go this far. You meant to confront him. To unearth the truth. To hold him accountable.
But now his hands are at your waist—warm, grounding, familiar—and he’s kissing you like he’s spent decades thinking about it. Like he’s imagined it in quiet mornings between bylines and burning buildings. Like it’s the one indulgence he never allowed himself to have.
Your fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt. “Tell me to stop,” He breathes against your skin. You don’t. Because you’ve wanted this. Hated how much you’ve wanted this.
Not just tonight. Not just since he walked through your apartment door with that bashful smile and that stupid, careful politeness like he didn’t have a goddamn clue you were about to wreck both of your lives.
No, you’ve wanted this since the second week at the Planet. And you’ve finally got it.
You fist his shirt and push him back against the wall, chest heaving, and when he looks at you with wide eyes and his lips parted, looking so vulnerable in a way that makes your throat ache, something inside of you snaps.
“You’re such a fucking liar.”
His breath stutters. “I didn’t want to—”
You cut him off with your mouth.
And that’s all it takes.
The kiss is desperate. Messy. Teeth knocking, breath uneven. His hands roam over you like he’s been starving for it, like he’s been dreaming about this for years. One palm slides up your back, the other fists in your hair, and you moan against his lips before biting down, just enough to make him groan.
You push him toward the bedroom.
He lets you.
You straddle him the second he hits the bed, pressing your hips down until you feel him twitching beneath his slacks, already hard, already straining. You grind slowly, deliberately, and his head drops back with a strangled sound.
You kiss him again, slower this time. Meaner. Like a punishment. Like retribution for every late arrival, every Superman scoop, every time he looked at you like you hung the fucking moon.
When you break away, you lean down, your mouth brushing his ear. “I hate you.”
His breath catches. His grip on your hips tightens.
“I hate how soft you pretend to be. I had that stupid fucking ‘golly gee’ act like you’re not hiding the most dangerous secret in the world. I hate you.”
“God,” He breathes, almost broken. “Say it again.”
“I hate you, Sunghoon.”
And then his hands are everywhere.
He rolls you over, yanking your shirt off so fast the fabric nearly rips. His mouth crashed to your neck, trailing heat down your collarbone, between your breasts, across your ribs. When he pulls back to look at you, there’s something primal in his gaze. Starved. Worshipful.
“Tell me where you want me,” He rasps.
You lean up on your elbows. “You’re Superman. Figure it out.”
His growl vibrates through your chest before he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed, dragging your pants down your thighs. He doesn’t stop to tease. Doesn’t play coy.
His mouth is on you in seconds.
Hot. Wet. Perfect.
You cry out, hips jerking, but his hands grip your thighs and hold you down, unmovable. His tongue flicks in tight, devastating circles, and then he flattens it. Slow and deliberate, until your eyes roll back in your head.
“Fuck—Sunghoon—”
He moans against you, like the sound of his name falling from your lips is the only thing he’s ever wanted.
Your fingers tangle in his hair. “I hate this. I hate how good you are at this.”
He groans again, deeper, louder. You feel him rutting slightly against the mattress like he’s getting off just from tasting you. The thought makes you whine. It’s almost unfair how good he is at this. Like he’s memorized you.
He finds your clit again, circles it with obscene precision, and you arch off the mattress with a sharp gasp.
“You’re close,” He whispers against you. “I can feel it.”
“I’m going to kill you,” You pant.
“I’ll die happy.”
Your orgasm hits like a wave crashing through you, hot and heavy and blinding, You cry out, sharp and breathless, thighs trembling around his head. Sunghoon doesn’t stop. He licks you through it, soft and reverent. Like he wants to savor every second.
You look down at him, wrecked and panting. “I still hate you,” You manage.
He grins, a real one this time, crooked and infuriatingly gorgeous. “Good,” he says. “Then you’ll hate this even more.”
And just like that, he’s crawling back up your body, slotting himself between your legs, the head of his clothes cock nudging against your soaked entrance.
And he’s still hard. Rock fucking hard.
You blink. “Jesus Christ.”
He pulls his pants and boxers down as his smile widens. “Not quite.”
You punch his arm. He laughs, but the sound dies quickly when he lines himself up and pushes in, slow and smooth, inch by inch. You both groan. You clench around him instinctively, and his jaw locks.
“You feel—fuck. Better than I dreamed.”
“You dreamed about this?”
He leans in, kisses you hard. “Every night.”
You’re still trembling from the first wave when Sunghoon pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark, pupils blown wide like he;s been holding back an entire storm.
You arch up into his hands, desperate and aching. His lips descend again. This time with hungry insistence, sucking bruises into your skin—neck, collarbone—a map of possession in deep, dark purples. You try to catch your breath but he pins your arms above your head with one hand, the other trailing fire down your ribs, across your stomach.
“Don’t move,” he commands, voice trembling like it’s torture holding himself back.
His mouth covers yours again, hot and insistent, teeth grazing your bottom lip as his fingers move faster inside you. He kisses and sucks at your neck, marking you like he’s carving your name into his skin.
You shiver, heart pounding as he works your shirt off you, fingertips trailing across your ribs once more. He’s relentless, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re gasping, trembling under the weight of his touch. You’re still sensitive from the last orgasm he coaxed out of you, be he’s not done. Not even close.
His hands tremble as he touches you. The way he looks at you now—wide eyes, desperate, like he’s about to break—makes something wild flare inside you.
He’s not the untouchable hero tonight. He’s yours. And you own every inch of him.
You kiss him hard, biting his lower lip as you maneuver the both of you until he’s on his back and you’re on top of him. His skin is impossibly warm under your touch, slick with heat and desire.
Sunghoon’s breathing is ragged, his chest rising and falling quickly. He presses himself against you, hands tangled in your hair, holding you close like he’s afraid to let go.
You take control, guiding him down until he’s lying back, breathless and vulnerable. You straddle him, sliding your heat against his ache. His hands cup your hips, trembling, and he whimpers softly as you begin to move.
“Fuck,” he groans, voice thick with need. “So good… God, you’re so good…”
His eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open, exposing raw, desperate pleasure. He’s never been like this, the strong and invincible Superman, not when it comes to you.
He whines when you shift, when you grind, when you tease that sensitive spot that makes him arch into you, hips jerking uncontrollably. Then you sink down onto him.
“Please, don’t stop,” He begs, voice breathy and broken.
Your hands slide over his chest, feeling the rapid thumb of his heart beneath your palms. He’s lost, undone, and it’s yours to keep. You ride him slowly, building, driving him higher, feeling every shiver and gasp as his pleasure months.
He whimpers your name over and over, voice cracked and raw. “More.” He begs, fingers clutching your hips tighter. You give it to him.
Faster now. Harder. The room fills with the sound of skin sliding, ragged breaths, and his desperate, needy whimpers. When he comes, it’s shuddering and loud—hips bucking wildly, mouth open in a ragged cry.
You collapse against him, breathless, hearts pounding together in a thunderous rhythm. He pulls you close, lips brushing your hair, whispering your name like a prayer. And you hate that you don’t want this to end.
10 ── You hate that you love him.
You told yourself it wasn’t possible.
Not with Park Sunghoon—Mr. Always-Late, Mr. Aw‑Shucks, Mr. Exclusive‑Scoop Superman. The man who made you roll your eyes before you even opened his email. The man who kept secrets that could’ve rewritten your career. The man you once swore you'd never let in.
And now you’re waking up tangled in his arms, back pressed against his chest, his breath warm against your neck. He’s asleep—still shirtless, still soft beneath the weighted duvet like he’s the one who needs comfort, not the other way around. Your mind whips through all the reasons you shouldn’t feel this calm. This safe. This full.
You hate him.
You hate how he made you laugh at that stupid coffee joke you said while complaining about the crime desk. You hate how he trails kisses along your eyelids when you’re half-awake just to check if you're really real. You hate that he’s Superman—because knowing he could see the world in one blink, yet he chooses to stay here, beside you… it almost hurts.
You roll over carefully and catch his gaze.
He blinks. “Morning.” His voice is rough, like he’s just been dragged out of a dream you wish you were in too.
You raise an eyebrow. “Morning? You know you’re not even supposed to exist before 8, right?”
He grins softly, stretching, then wraps an arm around you again. “I got a day off,” He says. “Superman’s on vacation.”
Your lips twitch. “Vacation. That’s rich.”
He chuckles into your shoulder. “So you don’t mind.”
You scoot back enough to face him. “I mind that you’re gorgeous at 7 a.m. and I can't even hate you for it.”
He quirks his mouth. “Sorry.”
“Oh no, it’s fine.” You tap the bridge of his nose with a finger. “Let the world survive without Superman for one day. Let me hate you slightly less.”
He laughs, and it’s the softest thing in the room. Your chest tightens. You’ve hated him for a lot of things—his lateness, his lies, his speed-of-light heroism—but none of it compares to the strange ache of joy when he smiles at you this way.
“We should get breakfast,” He says, voice low like he’s testing gravity. “I know this place downtown that has killer cinnamon rolls.”
You sit up. Hair messy, pajamas rumpled. You cross your arms. “I hate cinnamon rolls.”
He scowls in mock horror. “No real human hates cinnamon rolls.” Then softer: “Fine. We’ll go anywhere you like.”
You narrow your eyes. “I’ve lived decades off burnt coffee and reuse foam. I don’t crave anything sweet.”
He’s thoughtful for just a beat. “Okay. Black coffee and stale bagels it is.”
A grin tugs at your lips. It’s so utterly him to tease. So… effortless. You're flooded with old habits—cynicism, sarcasm—and they feel braver than you thought.
But then his thumb brushes gently over your hand. And underneath the banter you suddenly realize how loud your heart is.
You clear your throat. “But seriously—I still hate you.” You lie.
He stills beside you. A small smile covers his face.Heartbeat thunders under his palm. “You know,” he says quietly, voice cracking just a little, “I hate how worried I get when you pull investigative duty alone.”
Your gut clenches. “You’ll fly here if anything happens.”
He nods. “In five seconds.”
You stare at him. Really stare. This is not Superman breathing next to you—this is Sunghoon. Vulnerable. Human. Loving.
In that moment, all the hate evaporates.
“We’re a mess,” You laugh softly, looking away.
He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Best mess I’ve ever been in.”
He kisses your temple lightly. Tender. Long. Enough that you’ve lost count of everything you should hate about him.
And you hate that this moment isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning.
ᦸ 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽!𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇🧁 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 1.2k ⠀˃̵ᴗ˂̵⠀ first times NSFW praise kink oral (m recieivng)ㅤ reblogs&kisses
The summer air was thick and sticky in Sunghoon’s cramped bedroom, the only sound the hum of an old floor fan. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, a look of pure frustration etched on his handsome face. You sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against his dresser, trying to keep your expression neutral.
“It’s just… awkward,” he mumbled, not meeting your eyes. “Every time it gets to that point, I freeze up. I don’t know what to do with it.” A faint blush crept up his neck. You’d been friends since middle school, had shared every secret, but this was new territory. You took a steadying breath, the unspoken truth hanging between you. Of course you’d noticed; it was hard not to when he walked out of the shower with just a towel slung low on his hips. His sheer size was intimidating, even from a purely observational standpoint.
“Okay,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “We’re just problem-solving. Like we always do.” You pushed yourself up from the floor and sat beside him on the bed, the worn mattress dipping under your combined weight. The space between you felt charged, the humid air clinging to your skin. “First, we remove the mystery.” You kept your gaze on his face, on the nervous flicker in his dark eyes. “Let me see.”
Sunghoon exhaled sharply, a mixture of relief and fresh anxiety. His fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, the sound loud in the quiet room. When he finally pushed the denim down his hips, the reality of him was even more staggering than the glimpses you’d stolen. He was thick and long, fully hard already, the tip flushed a deep red. He looked painfully earnest and completely lost. “See?” he whispered, his voice rough. “It’s… a lot.”
“It is,” you agreed softly, not touching him yet. You took his wrist and guided his hand to himself. “Get used to the feel of it.” You coached him through a slow, tentative stroke, your hand over his. His breath hitched, a soft groan escaping him. “That’s it. No rush. Just get used to the sensation, to being in control of it.”
You let go, allowing him to continue on his own, watching the concentration on his face shift from panic to a dazed sort of focus. After a few moments, his rhythm faltered. “It’s not… I can’t just do this by myself forever,” he said, frustration creeping back in. He looked at you, a silent, desperate question in his eyes.
“Then don’t,” you murmured. You shifted closer, your thigh pressing against his. With deliberate slowness, you reached out and replaced his hand with your own. The first full touch of your skin on him made him jerk, a strangled sound catching in his throat. He was impossibly smooth and hard, the vein along the underside pulsing under your thumb. You began to move your hand up and down in a firm, measured pace, your eyes locked on his.
A sheen of sweat coated his forehead. His hands gripped the bedsheet, knuckles white. “What… what about with someone else?” he managed to ask, his gaze dropping to where your hand worked him.
“That’s next,” you said, your own pulse thrumming. You leaned in, your breath ghosting over the wet head of his cock. “You have to learn where it’s most sensitive.” You touched your tongue to the slit, tasting the salty pre-come there. Sunghoon cried out, his back arching off the bed. “Here,” you said before taking him into your mouth, as much as you could manage. It was a stretch, your jaw aching instantly, but you hollowed your cheeks and sucked, using your hand on the base he couldn’t fit. His moans became broken, pleading things. You pulled off with a wet pop. “See? Responsive. You just have to listen.”
You crawled up his body, settling over his hips. The damp heat of your own need pressed against the thin barrier of your shorts, meeting the solid, insistent pressure of him. You guided him with your hand, positioning him right where you ached. "This is the part that usually makes people nervous," you said, your voice low. "It’s okay to go slow." You kept your eyes on his as you began to lower yourself, taking just the broad head of him inside. A sharp, full sensation made you pause, breathing through it. He’s not going to fit.
Sunghoon's hands flew to your hips, his grip instinctive but gentle. His eyes were wide, watching where you were joined. "Okay?" he breathed out, the word strained.
"Okay," you confirmed, sinking down another inch. The stretch was intense, a burning fullness that forced a low moan from your throat. You moved in a careful, rocking rhythm, letting your body adjust to the overwhelming size of him. His hips twitched upward, seeking more, but you placed a firm hand on his stomach. "Not yet. Let me lead."
You continued the slow, grinding descent until he was fully seated inside you, a feeling of being utterly filled. I’m full. Completely full. You stayed there, unmoving, letting the sensation settle for both of you. His chest was heaving, every muscle in his abdomen taut. "Now," you whispered, beginning to move in earnest. You rose until only the tip remained, then sank back down, setting a deep, rolling pace. His hands tightened on your hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he matched your rhythm, his own thrusts growing more confident, more demanding.
A low, ragged moan tore from your throat as he hit a spot deep inside that made stars burst behind your eyelids. His confidence was growing with every thrust, his movements losing their initial hesitation and gaining a raw, powerful rhythm. You braced your hands on his sweat-slicked chest, riding him with a desperate intensity now, each descent a deliberate surrender to that overwhelming fullness. The stretch had become a burning pleasure, a constant, throbbing reminder of his size that was tipping you toward the edge. You could feel your own climax coiling tight in your belly, triggered by the relentless, deep friction.
Sunghoon’s breathing was coming in harsh gasps, his eyes glazed and fixed on you. His hands slid from your hips to grip the backs of your thighs, holding you open, controlling the depth of his plunges. "Tell me," he grunted, the words strained. His voice was rough with a newfound authority. "Tell me if it's right."
Before you could form a coherent sentence, your orgasm crashed over you, a violent, clenching wave that ripped a cry from your lips. Your body clamped down around him, milking his length in rhythmic pulses. That sensation tipped him over the edge. With a choked-off shout, he drove up into you one final, searing time and held there, his release flooding you.
You collapsed forward, your forehead resting against his collarbone, both of you slick with sweat and utterly spent, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against your ear. His arms came around you, holding you close in the sticky silence. “So,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet and a bit rough. “Best friends still?”
୨୧ from ♡ 𝑘𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑎𓏼⑅ ♥︎ ୧
inspired by this fic by wonxee and my comment lol big dick hoon agenda is reallllll + this layout is inspired by katsuiki
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𝓦𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍⠀ ✶ ⠀with no plans for the rest of the evening and nowhere else to be, you and park sunghoon find yourselves exactly where you always seem to end up: wrapped up in each other.
𝟏𝟕𝟏𝟏 🗯️ ✽ ─── ⏾ 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 park sunghoon ⠀ x ⠀ 𝓯 ! rea ´ ꒳ ` 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : established relationship ˒ porn without a plot ˒ gentle dominance ˒ praise ˒
𝔀𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit sexual content ⋮ 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀, 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁 ✿ body worship ˒ implied creampie ˒ unprotected p in v ˒ handjob ˒ dirty talk ˒ oral sex (m. receiving) ˒ handjob ˒ consensual filming ˒
𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬⠀ꉂ (˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
🪽 。 𝐞𝐥’𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 lil write-up that i didn’t proofread from last month !!! ◜ᯅ◝ just one of the many posts i have queued up, ya’ll will hopefully see a proper hoonguin comeback this august ᡣ ︠ 𓈒. .𓈒 ︡𐑠
The room was quiet enough to hear every shift of fabric, every uneven breath, every hesitant movement that seemed impossibly loud in the stillness between you. He stood in front of you, hands curled into loose fists at his sides, like he didn't trust himself to touch you yet.
You were already on your knees.
The metallic clank of his belt landing on the floor cut through the silence like a point of no return.
"Heavy ass belt," you mutter, glancing down at it splayed across the hardwood. Then back up at him, at the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. "Makes sense. Heavy belt for a man with such a heavy cock."
His breath hitched, and you watched the flush crawl from his neck up toward his jaw as you reached for the waistband of his jeans and tugged. He helped, shaky-handed, shoving them down his thighs, and you had to pause for a second because the visual in front of you was genuinely unfair. That V-cut trailing down into his boxers like it was pointing the way on purpose. The gym had done crazy things to this man's body and he had the nerve to stand here acting shy about it.
You pressed your palm flat against his stomach, just to feel the muscle tense under your touch, and he sucked in hard through his teeth. "God, Hoon," you said, dragging your hand down slowly, following that line. "You walk around looking like this? All day? And you expect people to act normal?"
"I don't—" he started, voice already rougher than it was ten seconds ago.
"Shh." You hooked your fingers into his boxers and pulled them down, and his cock sprang free, thick and heavy against his stomach. You made a sound — appreciative, almost a laugh — because you'd been thinking about this all day and the reality was better than the mental image. He was big enough that wrapping your hand around him didn't fully close your grip, and when you gave him one slow stroke he let out a noise that went straight between your own legs.
"Look at me," you said, because his eyes had drifted shut. They opened, dark and half-lidded, pinned to your face. "There you go. Keep them on me. You can record it if you want—I know you want to."
A shaky exhale. He fumbled for his phone on the dresser behind him, nearly knocking over a water bottle. He unlocked it and opened the camera with a thumb that was visibly trembling. He held it angled down at you, and you smiled directly into the lens, slow and shameless, then ran your tongue flat up the underside of his cock from base to tip without breaking eye contact with the camera.
The phone jerked in his grip. A broken groan punched out of his chest.
"Keep it steady, baby," you murmured against him, lips brushing the head, and then you took him into your mouth.
The first pull was slow, taking him in inch by inch and letting him feel every single one. He was thick enough that your jaw ached a little on the way down and you loved it, loved the way your lips had to stretch around him, loved the weight of him on your tongue. You pulled back, swirled your tongue around the tip, tasted salt, then sank back down further than before and felt him hit the back of your throat.
"Oh fuck—" His free hand came down to your jaw, fingers cradling your face. The contrast, the filth of what you were doing and the tenderness of his grip, made you moan around him, and the vibration made his hips stutter forward on instinct before he caught himself. "Sorry—I’m sorry, I—"
"Don't apologize," you pulled off just long enough to say, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his cock, indecently caught on the phone camera. "Fuck my mouth if you want to. I can take it. That's what it's for right now."
A sound came out of him that wasn't quite a word. Then his hand slid from your jaw into your hair, gathered it back out of your face, and he thrust into your mouth, shallow at first, testing, then deeper when you hummed your approval and dug your nails into his thighs. His quads were solid under your grip, tensed and trembling, and you dragged your nails down just enough to leave faint pink lines and he whimpered. The hell? This big, built, gym-sculpted man standing above you whimpering because of your mouth.
You pulled off, gasping, drool on your chin, and looked up at him with the most wrecked, adoring expression you could manage. "You sound so pretty, Hoon. You know that? Hottest fucking sounds I've ever heard."
His chest was heaving. The phone was barely angled right anymore, his arm was shaking too hard. You reached up, took it gently from his hand, set it on the dresser propped against a book so the camera still caught you both, and wrapped your hand around his cock again, stroking slow.
"Come here," he said, voice wrecked. Before you could even respond he was bending down, hooking his arms under yours, and lifting you off the floor like you weighed nothing. It’s as if all those back days and leg days had been building toward this exact moment. You wrapped your legs around his waist on instinct and his hands gripped your thighs.
He carried you three steps to the couch and dropped onto it with you straddling him, and the impact shoved you forward so your core ground against his cock and you both hissed at the same time.
"Mommy—" he breathed against your neck, the word stumbling out like it had been sitting on his tongue all night waiting for permission, and you felt a full-body shiver run through him beneath you.
You pulled back to look at him. Cupped his face with both hands. His eyes were glassy, lips bitten red, hair already messy from where he'd been running his own hand through it. How gorgeous. Absolutely wrecked and absolutely gorgeous.
"Say that again," you told him, thumbs tracing his cheekbones.
"Mommy," he whispered, leaning into your touch, eyes fluttering. "Please—I need—I need and want you so fucking much."
"I know you do, baby. I've got you." You reached between your bodies, lined him up, and sank down onto him in one long, slow roll of your hips.
The stretch punched the air out of both of you. You stilled, full of him, feeling your body clench and adjust, and he dropped his head forward against your chest with a strangled groan, hands fisting the fabric of your top before tugging it up and off so he could press his mouth to your skin instead. He kissed the curve of your breast, the valley between, dragged his lips down the swell of your breasts and back up, like he was mapping every inch he could reach with his mouth.
"You feel so good inside me," you breathed, rolling your hips experimentally — slow, grinding, taking your time. "So big, baby. Fill me up so well. You were made for this."
He moaned against your skin, open-mouthed and sloppy. His hands slid to your waist, guiding your rhythm without taking control, letting you set the pace while he just held on. You started to move, lifting and dropping, finding the angle that made your vision blur, and each time you came down his hips rolled up to meet you and the sound of it, wet and heavy, filled the room.
"Mommy—harder, please—"
You braced your hands on his shoulders and gave him harder. Faster. The couch creaked. His abs flexed under you every time you ground down and you could feel every ridge of them against your clit, the friction building something white-hot in your stomach. His mouth found your nipple and sucked, and you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair and pulling, and he groaned around you like the pull was a gift.
"Good boy," you said, breathless. "Taking it so well. Look at you—look at this body, Hoon, all this muscle and you're shaking underneath me. All that work at the gym just to fall apart in my pussy."
A broken, pitchy moan. His hips snapped up harder, losing the rhythm, chasing it.
"I'm—close, I'm close, please, can I—"
"Inside," you commanded, grinding down in a tight circle that made his whole body bow off the couch. "Come inside me. Fuck, give me everything. You've earned it, baby, you've been so good."
Three more uneven thrusts and he came with a sound that cracked open in his chest, your name tangled up with "mommy" and something wordless. You felt him spill inside you, his fingers digging bruises into your thighs as his whole body locked and shuddered. You rode him through it, slower now, milking every last pulse out of him while he whined from oversensitivity, until he finally went limp against the couch back, chest heaving, eyes unfocused, pretty and ruined underneath you.
You lifted off him slowly, wincing at the loss, and felt him slip out of you followed by the warm trickle of his cum dripping onto his stomach. He twitched at the sensation, too spent to do anything but watch you through heavy lids.
You reached down, swiped two fingers through the mess on his abdomen, his and yours mixed together, and brought them to his mouth.
"Open," you said softly.
He did, without hesitation, lips parting so you could press your fingers past them and onto his tongue. He closed his mouth around them and sucked, cleaning them thoroughly, eyes on yours the whole time, and when you pulled your hand back a thin string of saliva and cum connected your fingers to his lip before it broke.
You laughed. Light, breathless, genuinely delighted.
"What a dirty boy."
He let out a hazy, fucked-out laugh of his own, still trying to catch his breath, and you leaned down and kissed him, slow and sweet, he reached up to cradle the back of your head with a hand that was finally steady again, holding you there like he'd happily stay under you forever.
🎹 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ഒ or nah (remix) by ty dolla $ign (ft. the weeknd, wiz khalifa, and mustard)
✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !
Pairing : snow leopard hybrid sunghoon x human reader
Genre : non-idol AU, fluff, mention of past abuse and hybrid illegal trafic
Synopsis : Y/N thought she was being burgled when she heard a noise in her home in the middle of the night, but instead discovered a lost and injured snow leopard hybrid. What better way to brighten her lonely days than to keep it with her?
Having dogs, cats, rabbits, and even turtles as pets was perfectly normal. But having lions, otters, foxes, or even snakes as pets was original.
However, it was entirely possible thanks to hybrids. This new species of humans, half-animal, half-human, had appeared several decades ago and lived among humans. Some were adopted by families, and others lived their lives alone.
Hybrids were well integrated into society, but it wasn't uncommon for malicious people to want them for the black market. The government was uncompromising with such individuals.
Y/N had never really thought about adopting a hybrid. Even though she was alone and her family lived on the other side of the country, she liked her peace and quiet. She worked as a veterinary assistant and thus often interacted with animals and hybrids who came for treatment.
She was returning from a particularly exhausting shift, wanting nothing more than to take a shower and sleep. She entered her house, not bothering to turn on the lights. The young woman just went to close the living room sliding door, not noticing the large hole in the screen.
After a quick shower, Y/N collapsed into her bed, ready to sleep. She had been in bed for a good two hours when she was woken by noise in her living room, as if someone was moving her furniture. Silently, she got up, grabbing the baseball bat under her bed.
Holding her makeshift weapon in her hands, she entered the living room, turning on the lights, a cry escaping her at the furry shape under the table. The snow leopard jumped in fright, knocking over the coffee table in the process. It went to take refuge in a corner of the room, growling in her direction.
Having regained her composure, Y/N set her bat down on the floor and raised her hands to show she wasn't threatening. This was undoubtedly a hybrid, unless a snow leopard had escaped from the nearest zoo.
"Easy, easy. I'm sorry I screamed, you just caught me by surprise. I guess I scared you too." She approached slowly, stopping occasionally when the animal growled at her. The young woman put one knee on the ground, reaching her hand out toward it.
"I'm Y/N. I know you're a hybrid, and you seem injured," she said, looking at the bloodstain on its fur. "I'm a veterinarian, I can help you if you want. You're safe here, no one can hurt you."
The snow leopard calmed down, stretching its head to sniff her hand, then advanced hesitantly. Y/N smiled, gently stroking its head before standing up, going to get the first aid kit from the kitchen.
The hybrid didn't move when she returned, watching her with its large dark eyes. Y/N put on sterile gloves and then knelt in front of him. "So, where are you injured?"
The feline lay down on the cold tile floor, and she could see the wound covering his right thigh. She grabbed something to disinfect the wound, applying disinfectant to the gash, which made him whimper.
"I know, I know, it's almost over." She finished cleaning the wound, wrapping a bandage around his thigh to cover the injury and protect it. "Alright, done! Are you hungry?"
He purred softly, and she smiled, standing up to throw all her medical supplies and gloves in the trash. Y/N took out a Tupperware container with leftover bibimbap from the day before, heated it up, and placed the bowl in front of him.
"You can eat human food even in animal form, right?"
She got her answer when the leopard pounced on the food as if he hadn't had a real meal in days. She also gave him a bowl of water before returning to her room. Y/N had just lain back down when she saw the feline's little head appear through the doorway. She patted the mattress, and the snow leopard jumped onto the bed to lie down.
The young woman soon fell back asleep, her slow, steady breathing lulling the hybrid. Sunghoon had only wanted to find a refuge to escape his captors. He had fled from a hybrid trafficking ring and entered the first open house he could find. He hadn't expected Y/N to welcome him like this and even allow him to stay. Finally safe, his eyes closed, and exhaustion took over.
Y/N woke up the next morning with Sunghoon sprawled across the mattress, his furry body rising gently with each breath. She smiled, getting up to get ready. The hybrid came out of the room, yawning, as she prepared breakfast.
"I have to go to work, but I'll be back early this evening, around 5 p.m., okay? Get some rest."
She placed several bowls of food on the kitchen floor so he wouldn't go hungry during her absence, then stroked his head before leaving the house. Sunghoon stayed alone during the day, sleeping most of the time. He hadn't been able to sleep well before, always having to stay alert. But at Y/N's, he was safe.
Around 5 p.m., he heard Y/N's keys jingling from outside. He jumped off the couch and trotted toward her as she came through the door. "Hey, how was your day? Is your leg hurting too much?"
He pressed his head against her stomach, purring, the young woman put one knee on the ground to stroke him and give him scratches. Y/N went to change in her room, where she found the sheets on her bed tangled, the snow leopard having surely rolled around in them, which made her smile.
Back in the living room, she sat on the couch, the hybrid jumping up beside her. "So, I was wondering, do you already have a home? Or a family?" Sunghoon shook his head before placing it on her lap. "So I was thinking I could adopt you, if you want? I'm alone, so you could live here and have a comfortable life. Especially since you're still injured and need to heal."
His ears perked up on his head. She really wanted to adopt him? He could stay with her forever, watch over her and protect her like she had done for him? That was all he wanted! He buried his head in the crook of her neck, purring, and Y/N chuckled.
"Okay, okay! I'll take that as a yes."
She had already brought an adoption form from her veterinary clinic in case the hybrid agreed right away. Y/N filled in the various information about him, Sunghoon watched over her shoulder.
"Well, the last thing is I need your full name, which will be difficult if you're still in animal form since you can't speak." She tapped her pencil on her chin, thinking of a way. Y/N eventually drew an alphabet on a blank sheet of paper, and the hybrid pressed his paw on each letter to form his name. "Park Sunghoon," she read. "Great! I just need to send the form, and you'll officially be my hybrid. What do you think about that, Hoon?"
His tail wagged behind him as he jumped on her to settle across her lap. It wasn't such a bad idea after all, he would keep her company.
It had now been several weeks since Sunghoon had been living with Y/N, and he had never known such a good life. He still hadn't taken human form because of his injury but would be able to do so very soon.
He was very grateful to be able to stay with her and loved her dearly. He often slept in her bed at night to sleep beside her and watch over her, and didn't hesitate to snuggle up to her when she was home.
Y/N was returning from a day of work, appointments had piled up, and night had already fallen when she stepped through the door. She took off her shoes, her bag hit the floor with a dull thud. Going to the living room as usual to see Sunghoon, she didn't expect to see a young man in his place.
Tall, with fluffy grey ears amidst black strands and a long tail moving from left to right, he seemed to be sleeping. The young woman silently approached him so as not to disturb him, leaning over him. It was the first time she had seen him in human form, and he was gorgeous.
Sunghoon opened his eyes, meeting her gaze, and wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her to him, Y/N collapsed onto him, her hands flat on his chest. The snow leopard nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck to smell her perfume, his large palms sliding under her sweatshirt as his tail wrapped around her ankle. "Hoon…"
"I missed you," he murmured against her skin. His voice was hoarse from not having used it for several weeks, but his touch was warm and reassuring.
"You're human."
"Mmm," he purred. "I wanted you in my arms. My human. Mine."
Hesitantly, Y/N stroked his hair, her fingers scratching behind his ears, which intensified his purring like a big cat. Sunghoon rolled to lie her beneath him on the couch, enjoying the contact of her skin against his.
"I'm yours, right?"
"You're mine," she promised, kissing the top of his head. Sunghoon smiled, his small fangs brushing her skin as he smiled against the thin skin of her neck.
GENRE : smut, handjob, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), spanking, ceo!sunghoon, a mixture of bratty and soft sunghoon, tiniest bit of fluff, brief mention of jake, sunghoon being punished.
WC : 2.6k words
SYNOPSIS : mr. park had always made you work hard, it was about time you'd snap and give him a well-deserved punishment.
WARNING : 18+ contact, minors do not fucking interact.
A/N : hihi, pretty humans <3 i'm back with another fic requested by @yunskies my beloved :3 and anonnie, it's very rushed yet again cause of my exams but i hope y'all like it! all likes, comments, shares and reblogs are highly appreciated, please let me know if you like/enjoy my works, it motivates me a lot! iloveyou all and i hope you guys enjoy it :D
the sound of your heels tapping on the marble floor resonated the office, your sigh even louder than that. being called ahead of time in the morning for the sole reason that your boss is an early bird didn't sit well with you. with coffee in one hand and your bag containing folders full of papers in the other, you walked all the way to the small desk counter you had in front of ceo's office, you being the secretary of the same.
the office was empty as always, your time of reporting being one hour earlier than the rest of the employees. you sighed yet again, fixing your ponytail to make sure that not a strand of your hair was out of place.
mr. park sunghoon, your boss, is greatly known for his work—the way he works. his criteria are simple, he starts working early in the morning, skips days and asks you to schedule most of his meetings on thursdays and fridays, wanting the rest of the week to himself.
another thing you did not appreciate was the amount of workload given to you. his past secretaries had given up in a span of three months, four months being the maximum time one had devoted to him before giving up.
then came you, tolerating his demands for almost six months now, earning enough respect from the rest of the employees for sticking up this long but they didn't know that your patience had been running thin lately and you were sure to snap anytime soon.
to top it all, he always got your name wrong—a new name each time which you had to overlook because mr. park didn't like to be corrected, always thought highly of himself—which was acceptable considering his exceptionally amazing work despite having a weird style to do so.
speak of the devil, he walked towards his office and you still weren't settled in your workplace. you could smell a remark coming at you already. “why aren't you working already?” he spoke just as you bowed down saying good morning to him.
he looked fresh, not an ounce of distress on his face as if work stress didn't exist for him. his tone was authoritative which made others swoon enough to respectfully want to be railed by him. but in this case, you had a pretty fake smile plastered on your face as you apologized for being a minute late and he simply scoffed, his tongue poking inside of his cheek.
“this is the third time you've come late in six months,” he pointed out as if you had committed a crime and keeping your tight-lipped smile was getting harder by second.
he didn't bother waiting a second more for your reply, “get me my coffee in five minutes.” he ordered and entered his office just in time as your face morphed into a scowl, which he luckily missed seeing.
making your way towards the pantry cum cafe room, you put his coffee in the mug while also taking a few cookies alongside—just how he preferred it to be. you knocked on his office door twice, hearing a faint ‘come in’ before entering and placing the tray on his big desk.
he didn't bother uttering a small ‘thank you’, proceeding to take a sip of his drink already as you turned to leave but were put to a stop.
“the coffee is cold already, get me a new one.” his sour voice reached your ears as you turned back to look at him finally staring at you.
if you didn't know better, you'd think that he was smirking at you, the corner of his mouth twitched seeing your blank expression.
“and take these files along, get them signed from all heads of departments within three hours,” he ordered nonchalantly, his slender finger pointing at the stack of files kept on the sofa table.
‘deep breaths’ you reminded yourself, he seemed extra pushy with you today, as if he wanted to test your limits. he bit his lips, clearly amused with the frown on your face.
“yes, sir.” you seethed out, grabbing the files and walking out without second thoughts, not letting him give you any more orders.
another sigh left your mouth as you called the nearest coffee shop to get a new coffee for him, specifically adding this instruction—please make sure the coffee stays hot.
your phone pinged, reminding you of the meeting this very evening, you standing up to inform mr. park of the same but were stopped with the office phone ringing. “come in.” he said and slammed the phone without any decency. you took a deep breath before going to meet the devil again.
“sir, you have a meeting with sim agency at five in the evening,” you informed before he could say anything and he bit his lip, taking off his glasses.
“cancel it, i don't feel like working today.” he smirked again at your pointed eyebrow.
“excuse me?”
“you heard me, miss lee.”
“i'm not miss lee, that was your old assistant.” you scoffed, not able to maintain your polite facade.
he stood up, coming close to you with his hands in his pocket, his face victorious.
“i don't care,” he started, “cancel my meetings and get me my coffee.” it's very obvious how he wants a reaction out of you and you're going to give him exactly that.
your heels click as you turn and walk away, practically disrespecting him and he couldn't stand that. his strong hands wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back and that's when you decided that you'd had enough.
you pulled on his collar, pushing him back so he was against the wall, eyes widened as he didn't expect such a comeback from your side.
“this is exactly why no one wants to work with you, sir.” you gave him a tight-lipped smile, observing his face.
he was quiet, staring at you with his mouth agape which he closed to gulp down his excitement? fear? he wasn't sure either. the proximity and the way you looked fearless sent a shiver down his spine. the tip of his ears reddened as you spoke up again.
“no orders for me now, sir?” and suddenly ‘sir’ seemed the most degrading word he'd ever known, not to mention how it successfully helped the growing tent in his pants.
that's when you looked down to realise why his breathing got deeper, why his eyes couldn't leave yours and why he was holding your skirt like a kid who wanted his favourite candy. mr. park had a boner. your boss had been turned on just by a few snarky remarks and collar grabbing—you found it the most interesting thing in this world.
“done being a brat now?” you arched your brow again and this time, he replied stuttering.
“i—i'm not a brat!” he tried to maintain his composure, having never been talked down like this before.
“is that so?” you smirked, tracing his jawline which tensed him further yet he didn't hold you back from doing so, his body slightly leaning towards you now as if trying to scream how it wanted more of your touch.
“hmm!” he hummed a yes.
he whimpered a little as your fingers wrapped around his neck, “guess what, mr. park?” you bit your lips at his hardened cock which looked painful inside his pants, “you are a brat,” your fingers teased his boner by touching it gently, “and brats deserve punishments.”
you didn't hold back and palmed his cock as he squirmed around, no trace of his bossy behaviour left and all you could see was a desperate boy who needed you to fuck him.
“p—please,” he gasped.
“don't you deserve to be punished, hoon?” being talked down to never felt that good to him before, his cock twitched which amused you further.
he didn't care anymore, he nodded fervently in hopes to get more action from your side, anything and everything.
“who's in charge here?” you asked.
“y—you are!”
you simply grab his collar and pull him to his table, making him sit on it as you situated yourself in between his legs, still palming him.
“now, hoonie. would you like to be spanked or to be denied orgasm?” oh, you were having so much fun. his eyes were teary as it is and you could see him contemplate his choices as he voiced it out with a moan.
“spanking,” his voice was shy but he did trust you enough to show you this side of him, not fully sure if it was just because he was needy or that he actually seemed to like you.
even though you were angry and in the mood for punishment, his cute—squeaky voice made you smile just a bit at how adorable he was being.
this wasn't the mr. park you were used to seeing, he was a shithead while the sunghoon in front of you was nothing but a needy baby.
his cheeks were tapped twice for him to look your way, you unbuckled his belt as you held firm eye contact with him, he gulped down again when you unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers as you did.
“someone's excited.” you pointed out as his dick sprang up to his lower abdomen, leaking with precum. you loved how the roles had switched.
“touch me please,” he whimpered and you cooed at his pleas, asking him to follow you and bend over your lap on the couch which he did without complaints.
his cock was pressed against your thighs as you caressed his soft, milky skin of his ass, wanting them to covered with the prettiest shade of red.
“now, be a good boy and count for me, yeah?”
the sound of your slap echoed the room even before he could nod, his back arching with pleasure as he stifled his moan, “o—one!” he said.
“good boy.” you kneaded his ass before going for the second one.
“oh f—fuck, two!” he moaned. and just like that, he didn't stop until you were at the eighth one.
his enthusiasm made you soft, he didn't stop once while counting, being the obedient boy you wanted him to be.
“i'm about to cum!” he softly cried out, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“aw, you liked it that much? come on, beg for it.” you stroked his cock, switching positions to make him lie down on the couch with you on top of him.
“please please let me cum, i'll be a good boy and do everything you want, pretty please—aah.” there you granted him permission, his cum spilling on your hand as you helped him chase his high, his cock growing softer with the sound of his breathing filling the room.
“good boy.” you whispered and he blushed.
“no one's ever done that to me before,” he softly accepted, “all the people i've had sex with simply expected me to dom.” his pout was adorable.
you pulled him closer by his collar again, slowly unbuttoning his white shirt. “i'll grant you a wish since you've been such a good boy and took your punishment well.” you said, throwing his shirt somewhere in the corner of his office.
“fuck me please!” he said without second thoughts and you freely laughed at his puppy-like expression.
you could see his beauty now that he was fully naked under you, he tugged at the hem of your skirt, wanting you to be naked with him.
“undress me, pretty boy.” and he sits up with a whine, knowing well you've grown a particular liking to tease him.
and he did, his hands were focused and he sucked in a breath as soon as he saw your bra, running his tongue to wet his lips.
“can i kiss you?” he came close, only a breath away as you head the back of his head, pulling him closer so that he was pressed against your upper bare body, only restricted by your bra which he unclasped while kissing you while unconsciously bucking his hips forward.
you pushed him down, getting on top of him, not bothering to remove your skirt. he watched with anticipation as your wet panties pooled down your legs, you stepped out of them to position yourself on sunghoon's cock.
he half sat up as you lowered yourself on his cock, eliciting a moan at the delicious stretch. his moans were a lot prettier, a string of curses along with tons of pleas for you to give him more.
“y/n, fuck!” he groaned as you start to fuck yourself on him.
“so you do know my name.” you pointed out with a smirk, pleased with his reaction and he sucked on your tits to prevent his voice going out, his hands holding your waist to get some kind of balance.
“good boy.” you praised again, peppering small kisses all over his neck.
“tell me who's in-charge, sweetheart?”
“y—y/n, you are!”
his toes curled when you gained momentum and fucked yourself hard on his cock, his eyes closing and opening, confused because he wanted to see you but also felt overwhelmed, still sensitive from his first orgasm.
you were so delighted you broke the ‘tough ceo’ act of his, making him beg for more which he did without even asking. his body so reactive, his head on your chest as he drooled while gasping for breath.
you take a moment to look at him—hair tousled, lips red and swollen from how hard he bit him, tears brimming his eyes and his legs shaking under you, his orgasm was close.
being the good boy he was, he decided to rub your clitoris as best as he could muster to also please you, your fingers tugging on his soft locks while the other hand teased and twisted his hardened nipples.
a moan left your mouth as he hit a particular spot, which successfully had you crying in bliss as sunghoon bucked his hips, his orgasm close.
“fuck, want you to cream my cock please!” he begs when he hears your gasps growing louder by second, the sound of skin slapping being the loudest.
your legs shook as your orgasm covered his cock, the liquid successfully running down his shaft which only heightened his experience. but you didn't stop riding him until he hit his own euphoria.
sunghoon couldn't handle it anymore, he cried out, “y/n—” he started but you didn't let him finish.
“cum in me, baby boy.” you breathed out and he stuttered, forming sentences which seemed incomprehensible.
and suddenly, he was showered with kisses on his face, each mole of his receiving love as he finally looked up, his cock softening inside you.
a tear fell down his eyes which you gladly kissed away and then proceeded to kiss his lips for the first time. it was slow but he hummed softly while holding on to you for his dear life.
“so you won't be a brat next time, mr. park?” you asked, lightening the mood and he laughed with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
a knock interrupted your small conversation as you dressed up alongside, sunghoon was shirtless still when you slightly opened the door to his office.
“hey! we're really sorry your coffee got delayed but it's still warm—” the guy with the name tag of ‘jake’ blabbered before stopping to see a very shirtless guy and your smudged lipstick.
he apologized with comically widened eyes of his and handed you the coffee saying “i'm sorry to interrupt.” before running away, making you both laugh lightly.
he turned to look at you, fully dressed now.
“i don't think i'll stop being a brat, y/n.” he smirked.
― part one here!
After finding out that your boss has seen, heard, and instructed you through some pleasurable nights while parading around as a faceless cam-boy, you decide that your best course of action is to: call out sick. use vacation days. avoid Park Sunghoon at all costs. Unfortunately, ten days doesn’t appear to be nearly enough time to erase what’s happened, and Sunghoon refuses to be avoided.
or the one where sunghoon pretends that he isn’t an anxious mess over accidentally exposing himself and you just so happen to have a lot of fucking empathy.
minors dni
PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader
WORDCOUNT― 14.5k
CONTENT― forbidden office romance kind of, smidge of angst if ur sensitive, mentions of predatory behavior from sunghoon, he is more desperate than he is dominant, just the way we like it.
NOTE ― bro im so sorry this took way too long to write, it also is way longer than it's supposed to be. but yknow. i had to do him right lmfao. NOT PROOF READ.
nsfw tags under cut
nsfw tags― perverted sunghoon, heavy petting, making out, foreplay on a chair lol, desk sex, very intimate shit ok? ok., pussy eating, jerking off, finger fucking, fingers-in-mouth antics, gagging, implications of something more than just an office fling, unprotected sex, he fills you UP!!! YIPEE!!!
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Avoidance.
That is the only way you know out of any awkward or unsavory situation. Avoid, avoid, avoid. Find a new job, change your name, dye your hair– question all of your life choices up to this point.
It’s the fact that never in your life have you had an interest in live sex cams. It was always just a porn video or a nice erotic novel for you. Sometimes curiosity gets the best of you though, like it does all people, and it’s not like you thought anyone would ever know who you are or catch you in the act of feeding into your curiosities.
The one time you ever navigated to the live camera feed on your favorite porn site did shift your sexual appetite a little bit. A whole new world of seeing exactly what you want without needing to search for far too long for that perfect video…for a cost, of course.
You made good money already, and it’s not like you weren’t going for that promotion at the time either. You thought, why not? Why not pay a pretty, faceless man for some anonymous jerking off and move on with your life?
The one time you found something to satiate the late night body-cravings, the point of pleasure ended up being…your boss?
Small world? Miniscule, fucking tiny little world.
For days you wondered if Sunghoon’s text to you was just a coincidence. After all, the faceless man on screen didn’t say a word to you after you uttered the name of your boss. Even if he directly said your name. Even if Park Sunghoon uttered your false name at work.
Consistent back and forth in your head. From, “No, how could that even be possible? No way is it him.” to “but Mr.Park started being weird after the first call, he used both names, he played off of the boss/employee dynamic.”
You’re going crazy as you send another email to your department, apologizing for taking so many days off but not truly apologetic. It’s been ten days now and Sunghoon has yet to text you again.
That little “Can we talk?” can be heard in your head in his voice. Only now recognizing how clear and unique it truly is when he does speak. You try not to realize how similar the cam-boy sounded to him. Only connecting the dots when they force you to do it, really. You still try to convince yourself that the text was about firing you, given his actions at work that very same day.
Maybe he was avoiding you because he felt awful about needing to fire you?
Maybe he sent that text message to start the process of pushing you out?
After all, it’s still very difficult to imagine Park Sunghoon having a cock that nice, or cum in that amount. Given, it’s not like you ever thought about him jerking off or anything, it’s just–
You don’t fucking know. Your brain is a mess of shaking anxiety and echoes of sexual frustrations and moans.
You were refunded your money. He texted after the session. He said your name. It’s him, isn’t it?
Subject: Time off Request: Rejected. Insufficient PTO.
[insert your name here],
The time you have requested from the 27th to the 3rd has been rejected due to insufficient hours. As of last Thursday, you are no longer meeting the minimum hour requirement as a full-time employee. Your PTO is at 0 hours and 00 minutes and you now have three unexcused absences. Please return tomorrow with a signed order or note that exempts you from work. If you move forward without returning to the building, this will be grounds for termination. Please review the company handbook and job abandonment guidelines.
Additionally, COO Lee, myself, and Division manager Park will be scheduling a meeting with you in the upcoming days, failure to appear will result in immediate termination.
Thank you,
HR
Well, fuck. You knew the time to avoid this would dry up, and this ten day hideaway to fake your death didn’t quite pan out.
Devastating, truly, that you have to walk through those doors with the same legs your boss may or may not have seen spread open for him through a grainy webcam image. Horrifying, that you have to look him in the eye and explain that you really were sick for the past ten days, that you definitely were not hiding the shame of your sexual desires.
The worst part about all of this? Not just the embarrassment but the fact that…you liked it. On that night, had he admitted it was him, you may not have ended the call yourself. It felt like it added some danger to your arousal at the time. Which, naturally, makes you more embarrassed now. Mostly because, at worst if that was Mr.Park, it was predatory. At best though? You very well may have consented.
But the what ifs don’t matter now. The only thing that matters is forcing yourself through the awkwardness of being at work after avoiding it for so long already.
Fortunately for you though, work is…weirdly normal. In fact, no one acts like you’ve missed ten days at all. You are greeted by the usual co-workers, you sit down at your desk and can log in as usual, and there are no warning emails or invitations for what would be considered a meeting of termination either.
The day goes by just fine, suspiciously so. Sunghoon, though you’re avoiding him at the moment, doesn’t appear to be too out of character either. At one point, you were forced to drop corrected paper work off in his office, and he gave you the same usual and small “Thank you” before you stepped out with your legs threatening to buckle.
Then again, his “casual” appreciation could just be your mind playing positive little tricks on you. Maybe it wasn’t casual at all. Maybe that little uncharacteristic breath afterwards isn’t just in your head. You didn’t make eye contact with him during that brief moment, and you did rush out quite quickly so you wouldn’t really know. However, in the deepest part of your brain his voice really does match the one who said all those dirty things to you.
Maybe you’re still overreacting.
Or maybe you dreamed all of this up.
You choose to remain unaware of the awkwardness around you solely because everything else is normal. Deep, deep down, you know. But you’re not giving that truth a chance to thrive or run your brain anymore.
And just as the day comes to an end, you’re actually feeling better. Anxiety is draining out of you, fear and embarrassment sit dormant in some hidden part of your brain over the small possibility of virtually fucking your boss. It seems you’ve let this work day clear up all of that fear in your head.
You were wrong, right? It wasn’t him, right? He’d have tried to defend himself by now. What boss wouldn’t be absolutely terrified that you’d report him, anyway? After all of that?
You actually feel a little dumb at the possibility of Mr. Park ever wanting you sexually, or ever even wanting to speak to you in that way. Asking to see your pussy? Telling you how to touch it? No, that’s definitely not him. Couldn’t be him.
And your eyes do stray after a little while. Just to steal glimpses into his office, feeling relieved and weightless now that it appears your fears are over and finally understood. Doesn’t change the fact that now when you look at him, you might be wildly fucking attracted to him. Because fuck, imagine if that was him. You’re kind of forced to put his image to the faceless cam-boy now, not that you want to do that or anything. It just…you can’t really blame yourself for it.
You lend yourself a little laugh. As happy as you are that you’re able to convince yourself that it’s not Sunghoon’s cock you’ve yearned for, you really wouldn’t mind sleeping with someone as handsome as him.
Crazy how the lack of anxiety lets you think those types of things though, isn’t it? When your brain is no longer fogged by fear or embarrassment, it’s like the clarity can sometimes be scarier simply because you don’t know how true certain statements are. Even through all of that fear, maybe a part of you wished it was him.
Even with the weight on your shoulders lifted, in hindsight, maybe you’re even a little disappointed that it wasn’t.
And, just as you’re preparing to clock out and head home with a big secret crush and a little pep in your step, you hear the familiar notification of an email. No problem, probably just a daily report or something.
Please come to my office before you leave for the day to discuss your conduct as of late.
Thank you,
Park Sunghoon
Division Manager
000-000-0000 ext. 000
Well, double fuck. To think everything was fine despite you being well aware of that shit HR said to you previously?
You barely recognize how the email is sent directly to you from Mr. Park, not including HR or COO Lee. In fact, the anxiety wells up inside of you so quickly that you nearly have to dry heave a few times before taking a deep breath.
In your head, it’s not even about the web-cam session with a faceless man anymore. Your anxiety about that died the moment you successfully lied to yourself enough, now you’re genuinely just afraid you’ll lose your job or that beloved promotion you worked so hard to be qualified for. You just had to let your anxiety run your life for the past ten days, didn’t you? After all, skipping work to such an extent? Everyone had to have known that it was a lie eventually.
So, you stand to your feet, brush off your thighs, and attempt to keep your heart from pounding as you make your way to Mr. Park’s office expecting to see HR, COO Lee, and a severance package on the desk waiting for your signature.
Instead, you walk in to just find your boss. He’s looking at you as he normally would, eyes focused on his screen before glancing at you for a moment and nodding his head to one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“Mr. Park–” You start, nearly wincing at the way you say it because, well, you haven’t said it since the night you had your pussy out on display. It’s only natural to physically react, right?
“One moment.” He says in a small voice, clicking a few times with the mouse as you watch the monitor light shine across his cheeks with each window he minimizes.
It’s silent for a few moments as you awkwardly look around an office you’ve been in countless times. His lights are always dimmed, the temperature is always comfortable. You’re gonna miss this office, though it’s not your own. It was a nice, brief escape before all of this if you’re being honest.
“How was work for you today?” He turns his attention to you, finally adjusting and rolling his chair to center himself in front of you behind his desk
You pause at the question, unintentionally tilting your head at it like a puppy. “Good? Normal, I guess?”
You watch as he nods with a tight-lipped expression, eyes falling to his desk as he takes in a deep and disappointed sounding breath.
“Well, that’s one of us.” He huffs out, causing you to feel a bit confused with his tone. Is he being…passive aggressive? And when he snaps his eyes from his desk straight to your own confused gaze, you can almost sense a bit of something else in them compared to usual.
Not anger. Not disappointment.
He looks worried.
“Eleven days–” Sunghoon drones on with an exhausted tone, cutting himself off with another breath that shows you were right to assume his current displayed emotion. “You have ignored my text messages for eleven days.”
You’re shocked by that because as far as you’re concerned, he has not texted you.
“What are you–” You furrow your brows at him, frantically pulling out your phone. “You haven’t texted me. See? The last one I got was–” You take a second as you pull up his texts and remember the exact time he texted you. So late into the night, right after…that. Naturally, you silence yourself, afraid to say it out loud.
“On the contrary,” Sunghoon denies your proof. “I texted from my personal phone.”
You hesitate again, looking down and noting the notifications under the tab of “message requests.” To be fucking fair though, you didn’t even know that existed so you never really paid attention to it. Especially as you practically avoided your phone out of fear that he’d be texting you again.
You were thankful he didn’t. That comforted you. Now though? Your comfort is replaced yet again with anxiety because, well, he texted you consistently after that night.
“Oh–” You say quietly, seeing a glimpse of “Please, let me call y–” in one of the messages.
“I didn’t see those.” Quickly, you turn your screen off and shove your phone back into your pocket, nervously clasping your hands in front of you and looking to the floor.
“I will reiterate then.”
You can hear the leather on his chair squeak against his expensive suit when he leans forward, both hands splayed out on his desk in a wide and intimidating stance in front of you.
“Wait–” You look around the office now. “If you’re going to fire me– shouldn’t the others be here too?”
Sunghoon pulls back at that, narrowing his eyes before lending a very small and even more nervous chuckle.
“I’m not firing you. I told them I’d take care of your sudden and, quite frankly, unhelpful vacation.”
You look to the floor again, feeling scolded for your actions but having a genuine reason. If Sunghoon truly is aware of that reason for your absence, he understands too, right?
“I have been beyond inappropriate with you.” He blurts now, that same leather squeaking as he leans back again and looks away from you the moment you snap your head up. “I have reason to believe you’ve not yet reported me, and I’d like to ask for the opportunity to explain myself before you do.”
You feel a chill wash over your whole body, cold sweat peaking right at your temples as you stare forward. He’s being so professional about this, and that lie you’ve convinced yourself of is showing it’s face as just that, a fucking lie.
So this is it?
So there it is? A semi-admittance that it was him? That little feeling in the back of your head that wishes it was diminishes within an instant. In fact, you narrow your eyes at him, your nose crinkles, and you feel frustration bubble up in your gut.
“So you admit that it was you?” You ask, needing a full confirmation.
“Yes.” Sunghoon sighs, leaning back somehow further, creating as much distance from you as possible before unintentionally rolling his eyes. Mostly due to the fact that he was stupid enough to let this happen, mostly to shame himself. “What I did was inappropriate and unacceptable. I didn’t intend for this to ever happen.”
Now you feel a bit…pissed off.
Like? Oh, he didn’t intend for this to happen? What? You mean he didn’t intend to let you fucking find out! Well, as good as he is at playing the part of a slutty man on the internet, he’s not so good at acting in real life, now is he? Saying your false fucking name at work, saying your real name with his cock out?
What in the fuck are you supposed to do about this? Why is he giving you the ability to report him? He’s the one with the power here. He could fire you now and bury the information if he so pleased. After all, He’s besties with COO Lee, right? That bitch in HR has an obsession with him too. Hell, everyone here loves the guy.
You’re just a bottom of the barrel employee trying to work your way up. If you got him fired, surely he’d make damn sure you never work for a decent company like this one again. Additionally, you don’t even want to report him.
Yeah, it was fucking weird that he just knew it was you and kept going. Super strange that he had to have known after the first call, only to ask to see you in the second one. Why does that turn you on in the midst of this anxiety induced spiral? Why the fuck is the idea of Park Sunghoon apologizing for masturbating to and for you so alluring?!
Sure, maybe it’s kind of nice knowing that someone of his status would ever find an interest in you, but it doesn’t quite wash the frustration away. You have every right to question, and every right to be pissed off about it.
Still, in this quiet room, Sunghoon is stoic and all you can think about when you look at him is the way he said “if I were your boss i’d–” and the way he fucked his palm while saying it, implying he wanted it to be you while simultaneously knowing it was you watching.
Since fucking when did Mr. Park ever show a sexual interest in you? And if he did, why the fuck couldn’t he have just been normal about it?
“That was really fucked up, you know that?” You argue immediately, voice shaking at the speed of which your emotions shift. Your resolve isn’t quite as clear as it probably should be. Perhaps you should report him, or maybe you already should have. But, it’s not like you accepted the truth until he demanded it of you.
You would have let it slide. Both of you could have pretended it never happened. You could’ve gone home and continued working, never paying a cam-boy again had Sunghoon not called you into this stupid, comfortable ass office.
“In my defense, I was just doing my job. Though it’s my own fault for not telling you, my job here was at risk if you had found out.”
“You made me talk about you.” You roll your eyes at him now, gaining the power and control over the conversation. “And you thought I wouldn’t find out?! What? Did that get you off or something?”
“I–” Sunghoon stops himself from answering that question truthfully. He quickly tries to explain away the stutter instead. Never has he been scolded by an employee, but you’re well within your rights to do so. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I never get called by name during these sessions and I apologize for having you say it.”
“And you want me to report you?” You raise a brow at him. “Want me to just storm right into HR and tell her how you’re a fucking pervert? Want me to tell her how you told me to repeat your name? To thank you for it? Is that really what you want?”
Are you enjoying yourself a little too much? Maybe.
Sunghoon doesn’t respond though, instead, he runs his hand through his hair and sighs from the stress welling up inside of him. He can only act calm and collected for so long, and it’s been eleven days already. He hates how hearing you say those words goes straight to his cock at a time like this, he hates even more how all of this could have been avoided if he had simply declined your second call.
But you’re not wrong. He is a pervert, and he did tell you to thank him for the pleasure you were getting from his voice and half image alone. At the time, he was so turned on he really just couldn’t help himself. You fed his sexual appetite unknowingly and now this is the consequence of his action. Being a known pervert.
Is it what he wants though? To be reported? Humiliated?
Fuck.
Arguably, just having you humiliate him like this is enough. Drives him crazy, really. Whether it be from arousal or guilt, or both.
And for the first time since you started working here, you see him for what he truly is. A strong man to an extent, but he’s crumbling under his own mistake and it makes you wonder just how far he would’ve taken it had you not found out.
“And what if I didn’t realize who I was fucking myself for?” You glare. “Would you have asked for more? Avoided me here even more? Would you have declined my application for the assistant position because you can’t come to terms with the fact that you’re a fucking pervert?!”
Sunghoon raises his hands in defense.
“Please–” His voice sounds panicked. “Please, keep your voice down.”
“Answer the question, then. Just fucking own it at this point.” You throw your arms up now, letting them fall back down in a slap to your thighs. “Would you have made my work-life miserable just so you could watch me get off to you? Knowing the whole time? Would you have kept on with that boss slash employee shit just so it felt more real for you?”
Staring forward at him, you watch him accept that everything you’re saying is likely exactly what would have happened. Maybe he really will try to own it. Which would be… a good thing if you decide to let your own resolve falter.
So fucking secretive, huh? An actual, real life degenerate? And it’s Sunghoon of all people?
“Maybe…” Sunghoon trails off, making himself seem much smaller than he usually is on a day-to-day basis. “I mean, No–I,”
Oh, he’s actually stuttering.
“And you want me to tell on you? You want me to fuck your life up?” You raise a brow. “As if I didn’t pay you to do it?”
In all honesty, aside from the anxiety and awkwardness, and despite never once thinking of Sunghoon too sexually, things have changed. Drastically. Especially after being confronted with this situation and he’s not intimidating you or using his power to control you. No, he’s giving you the power and quite frankly, you don’t know what to do with it.
Are you basking in it? Absolutely. Is it nice to see him cower in front of you? In that big plush chair that costs more than your monthly income? Hell yeah.
But goddamn, had he approached you before all of this and asked for a date, or showed interest, you would have gladly partaken in a secret romance with him. He’s intelligent, attractive, clean, and has money. It’s not like you ever expected the guy to go home and fuck himself on camera.
You never thought he was the type to be so lonely either. Or so desperate, judging by how he acted during those two sessions. Arguably, you always wondered why there was never a ring on those pristine fingers.
And while you were definitely the victim in this situation, you feel more embarrassed than you do violated. Many nights you thought of how he spoke, how he said how badly he wanted you. It’s embarrassing because you’re starting to love the idea of who those words really came from. The Park Sunghoon, so untouchable in the business world. So untouchable by women and men solely because he appears to be too expensive, too pristine.
But you…
You’ve seen him dirty.
Part of you wishes you didn’t pay to be humiliated like this. The rest of you wishes you didn’t fucking like it as much as you do.
“It’s only fair.” Sunghoon explains with a short breath. “I feel awful for what I’ve done, and I should have told you the moment I recognized her as, well–” He pauses with a pained face, as if he hates hearing himself say it. “You.”
“Then, why didn’t you?” You raise your brow again, nearly forgetting you’re at work, solely focused on the conversation at hand and feeling relieved at the way it’s going.
Sunghoon shifts in discomfort, looking away from you.
“Do you want honesty?” He asks in a quiet voice, leaning forward on his desk but refusing eye contact. He keeps his gaze lowered the entire time, his voice small and shaky.
There’s still people in the office, though his door is closed and it’s unlikely he can be heard.
You nod to him with an even smaller “Go on then.”
“I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t you.” He says, shifting his hands and picking at his cuticles.
Man, he really knows how to act sorry, doesn’t he?
“I avoided you after that first call, solely because I think I wanted her to be you. Which is…incredibly inappropriate.”
He looks up at you now, searching for a reaction and only seeing you nod at him. His eyes shift right back down as he continues.
“My avoiding you led you to– um– more services.” He explains quieter, admitting in full the situation he’s allowed to take place, seeming more and more insecure with his words than he ever has before. “I can admit that I have fantasies and needs.”
Silence.
“After that first call, I couldn’t help but be entirely attracted to you. The idea of–”
You suddenly find yourself thinking back to all of those things he said to you again, parading as if he wasn’t your boss, telling you what he'd do if he were. He seems to have accidentally found a sexual interest in the dynamic…and he fucking dragged you into it with him.
“Mr. Par– Sunghoon.” You cut him off, actually feeling a bit of pity now at his admittance.
His words make you feel like maybe he’s not entirely just a pervert who was intending to make you get off to him from the start. If anything, he probably felt uncomfortable at first knowing who was on the other end of the call. It’s the fact that his real life job was at risk if you found out, and still he indulged despite that. He accepted that second call, he asked for more, he acted like he really does want you.
To the extent that losing his job was in the front of his mind and he still did it. He ignored the danger of it and prioritized getting off…with you. You find yourself wondering if this would have happened to any other employee under him if they happened to stumble across his stream too.
Part of you wants to pretend he wouldn’t, because the idea that all of this is happening solely because it was you? It hits a little too hard, a little too deep.
“Okay, okay. Stop,” You say, keeping your eyes on him and willing him to look up at you. “You don’t have to keep explaining, I get it.”
“No.” He does meet your eye this time, stopping your brain of all thoughts at how differently you see him now versus all the times before. “I do.”
He’s so honest. Probably too honest for his own good. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at his job, maybe that’s why everyone loves him. Maybe a bit of lying would help him in this situation if it were anyone else, but for you?
You kind of enjoy the way he’s telling the truth. Admitting that he was desperate, apologizing for wanting you even if just for a brief moment.
“I asked you to turn on your camera for selfish reasons. I asked you to say my name, then I made the mistake of exposing myself because I–” He hesitates, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose. “I struggled to pretend it wasn’t me, and that she wasn’t you. I very well knew what I was doing, and at the time, I wished that you did too.”
More silence as you stare at him, stunned, slightly in awe.
“But I knew you wouldn’t have reciprocated. What I’ve done is criminal, and I am encouraging you to report me for it if that’s what you deem necessary.”
“And if I don’t?” You don’t leave any more room for silence now, feeling desired and validated.
You can’t pretend that you’re mad, though you were previously. You simply can’t pretend that, now at least, you wouldn’t reciprocate. If anything, you’re more interested now than you think you ever would have been before.
“We can forget any of this ever happened. I’ll stop streaming and accepting private calls, and we can hopefully move forward without any ill-feelings of one another.” He blinks at you, near pleading with his eyes. “I’ll push your application through– That is, if you still want the position.”
Sunghoon does wince at the bribe, considering he’s never done such a thing let alone commit acts of sexual harassment, or perhaps even non consensual foreplay with someone. It really really wasn’t entirely intentional, and he’s disgusted with himself. If you report him, he’d take the hit to his reputation and career, but if you don’t…what then?
Ill-feelings, he says? If anything, you might feel more ill parading around like you wouldn’t want him to do all of those things he said previously, with free-will to say as he pleased without the fear of you knowing who the words were coming from.
“Can you please stop with the professional talk?” You hum out with an exhausted eye roll. “I don’t want the promotion if you’re just offering it so I don’t rat you out.” You narrow your eyes now and lean yourself forward. “You hope to forget this ever happened? Really?”
Carefully, the two of you watch each other for a while longer. Sunghoon looking like he’s about to catch himself on fire, and you, looking annoyed and amused. Still, the thick air in the room starts to feel suffocating under the pressure of the “issue” at hand as you scold him further.
“What you did was predatory. But– I don’t want to ruin your life over this.”
You watch as Sunghoon listens, his posture opening up a bit more as you speak, showing that he’s being relieved of his stress through your words alone.
“Are you trying to hold a promotion over my head over this?”
Before he gets the chance to curl in on himself again, you answer for him.
“Maybe.”
You continue too, not letting him speak for the time being. Or, rather, giving him a chance to breathe.
“Should you change your username and continue doing what you want behind closed doors because it’s no one else’s business?” You really watch him this time. “Yes.”
He blinks at you, raising a brow in slight confusion.
“Did you take advantage of me?”
He nods before you whisper out another “yes” yourself.
“Would I let you do it again…?”
Oh, for Sunghoon, it’s hard to breathe right now as he anticipates what you’ll say. Is it going to be a ‘no’ this time? Are you going to stand up and change your mind? Despite just stating you don’t want to ruin his life?
God, hasn’t he already let you?
“Yes.”
Pause.
“I’m sorry?” Sunghoon responds in disbelief, shifting his eyes to his hands and then back to you. “Come again?”
“Sunghoon.” You make it a point to call him by his name now, ignoring the etiquette of a proper boss and employee dynamic. “I am humiliated by all of this but I can see that you are too. You’ve admitted your guilt and even go as far as encouraging that I report you.” You pause again, knowing that this isn’t where the conversation should be going for any, uh, normal person, you suppose.
“If you had just told me. If you had said anything about wanting to, like, fuck me, I would have done it with or without the promotion on the line.”
Does that make you sound a little desperate? Yeah. But it’s not like he doesn’t know how badly you need to be fucked. After all, you know, the cam sessions and stuff. You were literally paying a stranger to get you off.
Shouldn’t he, of all people, know that you were bad-off enough to get laid?
Sunghoon’s issue though, is that he never looks at his employees sexually. No matter how pretty, no matter how much they flaunt themselves at him. He never has, and probably never will again. If it hadn’t been for that single first session with you, all would be well. But now? He’s too attracted to you.
He wants you so badly.
“If you tell me right now that you want me, in the same way you did on that call–” You stop yourself to really look at him. With the way he swallows, the way his lips slightly part, the way his hands show signs of eleven days worth of nervous habit cuticle picking. “If you do all of those things you said you’d do ‘if you were my boss’...”
“Wait, wait–” Sunghoon stands in a rush, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden sound echoing off of the walls in the office. “Do you understand the consequences of what you’re implying right now?”
“If I fuck my boss, we could both be fired?” You smile, feeling the confidence raise within you. Watching the way he reacts to your lewd words face to face rather than through a microphone.
“That would be…correct.” He raises a brow.
“Well, technically, you’ve already been fucking me.” You look away from him, feeling a bit shy even with the confidence, but never having spoken to a man so bluntly before like this? It’s a bit scary. “Would it really make anything worse if, you know, I do reciprocate?”
Goddamn. Sunghoon might be a bit smitten. This situation could have gone a thousand different ways, and you offer the one that includes your legs spread across this fucking desk and his face buried between them?
Oh. Never has he been so willingly turned on at work.
“Is this what you want?” He asks in a breath, shifting his eyes to the door and walking towards it, immediately reaching for the lock but not quite turning it.
“Is that what you want?” You counter, turning and staring at the lock.
Sunghoon hides his nod, wanting you to be the one to answer first. After all, hasn’t he been self-indulgent enough?
“Do you want me to fuck you?” He finally breaks and says it, blatantly, not sugar coated, yet still sweet when the words hit your ears. “After all this, you still want it?”
You nod, dipping your head a bit against your shoulder.
Click.
“I guess I should have known.” Sunghoon plays with his words now, hand dropping from the now locked door and eyes entirely on you. “Do you want me to fuck you, or would you prefer–”
“You.” You smile, feeling your skin prickle at the electricity that enters the room through breath and words alone. It’s the way he already shifted. Like all of that anxiety melted out of him within an instant.
“No, no.” He stalks towards you now, the nervous Sunghoon is no longer in sight as he makes himself seem bigger, taller, far more intimidating. Just like he was on camera. “The me you saw on screen is not the same as what you’re seeing right now.” He tries to explain.
“Oh?” You tilt your head, and he only finds that cute.
Far too cute.
“You’d do as I ask, right?” His voice shifts to a raspy whisper as he centers himself in front of you, both hands reaching the arms of your chair as he hovers above you. “I’m far more tame online.”
Tame?! That’s what he calls tame?!
You stare up at him, keeping your jaw from falling slack as you physically see him shift from being your boss into being a man with a need. Not just any need either. A need for you.
Part of you wonders if he ever truly felt bad in the first place about all of this, because the shift from just moments ago is so dramatic it’s almost scary.
“So, tell me.” He leans down, inches from your face as his eyes start to fall to a half-lidded stare at you. “You’ll do as I say? You’d let me do it all for you, and not ask me to stop until I feel it best, yes?”
You swallow and slowly nod. Oh god, it really, really, is him.
“And while at work, you’ll behave?” He continues, lips now ghosting over yours to the point you can almost feel them press down. He’s implying that if you don’t tell, that this won’t be the only time too? Shit. He’s entirely aware of why this shouldn’t be happening, but still making it happen.
“No matter what I do to you, where or how I do it, you’ll behave?”
You can’t help it when you lift your chin, just a bit to rest your lips against his words, eyes falling closed and hands hesitant to reach out for his perfectly ironed shirt.
You feel his smile against your lips, with that sharp-toothed grin he rarely offers.
“Ah, so it’s true.” He murmurs against you, his hand reaching for yours and guiding it for you, straight to his belt. “Dirty, dirty girl.”
A small, pleased, sound leaves your throat when he does kiss you, adding his own pleased hum alongside yours as his hands still hold yours in place over his belt, not quite letting you do anything just yet.
”Gonna be quiet–” He whispers into your mouth, just against your tongue before licking out and against it. “Even when I tell you to moan my name?”
You really shouldn’t be surprised, but you still are. You like this Sunghoon better than the one who stutters and picks his cuticles. He’s owning it, and in a way, so are you.
After all, it wasn’t until today that you truly learned what Sunghoon is like when he’s aroused. Not that you ever should have known in the first place. The fact that you do know, the fact that he’s showing you? It just makes this all the more arousing, in your opinion.
All he needed was a green light and within seconds it seems, Sunghoon became the need you’ve been chasing for months now through porn sites and erotic novels.
You nod to his words, trying to drop your hand just a bit to feel what you’ve already seen. Just to feel how warm he is, how—
“Is that so?” Sunghoon whispers in an amused tone, guiding your hand right back to his belt, only to drop his other hand straight between your legs. “You’re supposed to do as I say. If I tell you to moan my name, you do it.”
Oh, the sexual confusion of what to do and which Sunghoon to obey. All you can do is continue to nod for him, hanging your head with a breath at the way he cups his hand over the entirety of your core. You wore pants today in order to hide your shame, to try and feel invisible based on previous circumstances. You’re not so happy about that now, as you try to feel his touch through the thick fabric only to shamelessly thrust your hips up and against his palm.
He moves his lips to the top of your head now, hovering over you in a perfect stance of power, hand gently rubbing up and and down despite your hips asking for a harsher touch. If anything, it makes him feel better knowing how you react to this.
In actuality, his relief is sending his arousal through the roof. Not only are you not going to rat him out but…you want more of it? More of him, in particular? Not the facade of him online?
At this point, if he gets caught, you’re both going down in flames. So, why not enjoy the ride?
Truly, it’s laughable in the way he’s just as amused as he is turned on, relishing in the fact that he wants you and you’re letting him have you despite his past actions. You’re messy too, he’s seen it, and now he gets to feel it.
“Mhm,” Sunghoon hums against the top of your head, now pressing his own hips forward against your hand. “Feel that?”
The electricity? How hard he is? How needy you are?
”Yeah…” You sigh absentmindedly, bumping his chin with your head when you try to look up at him. You only blink twice before he coos out with a sad little sound.
He doesn’t say a word after as he removes his hand and instead, grabs both of your hands and places them on his shirt.
“Go on.” He smiles, waiting to see you to start fumbling against his buttons.
And fumble, you do. Touching him, for some reason, feels so dangerous. Knowing you’re the one removing his shirt, watching his skin be revealed as it begins to fall open by your own doing? It’s electrifying. Enough to lose your train of thought as you study how toned and smooth his skin is. Just like how you had seen on camera, so clear in front of you now. You’re aching for him by this point, being able to feel his body heat, touch him, feel his eyes on you.
If you had really known back then who it was you were talking to, you very well may have pretended to not know as well, judging by the way your entire body catches fire for him.
And as his shirt falls completely open, he’s satisfied with the way you do it. Complacent and docile beneath him, nervous fingers shaking much like he did for the past eleven days. With those pretty eyes looking at him, like there’s nothing in your head at all.
He chuckles at you, grabbing your hands again and placing them right on his chest, helping your hesitant touch to massage and caress each bump and toned muscle. He intentionally flexes the further down your hands go, all the way back to his belt.
There, he looks down at where you touch, then back at you with a quirked brow. You stare up at him, blinking, face feeling hot, and it’s like you move your hands on instinct. The sound of his buckle being unclasped echoes in the room, and his eyes only darken with the sound.
The sound of it slipping from the loops when he takes it upon himself to remove it completely for you, the sound of his breathing, the sound of that zipper, the button, the shuffling of his pants being skewed down just enough to fit your hand inside.
He moans at the image alone, loving the way your smaller hand looks slipping down his pants, the way your breathing is somehow even as if you’re trying to keep yourself calm. So calm, so pretty, but he knows how needy you are. He shouldn’t, but he does, and he uses it to his advantage.
You’re the one who moans this time upon feeling that little twitch of his cock urging you to grab. And he helps you too, with the way he guides your hand under the front of his pants further, forcing your fingers to grab and grope the thick of his cock, uncomfortable and pressing between his briefs and undone zipper.
“Still, you’re just looking.” Sunghoon comments, pressing his hips forward slowly and gently. “I’m right here.” He continues to explain the situation to you, as if you’re not experiencing it. “You need me to show you how to touch me too?”
You hesitate with a groan caught in your throat. You’re still processing the size difference that you feel now versus what you saw. Bigger. Thicker. Heavier than you would have expected against your palm. Honestly, you were so focused on the fact that Sunghoon’s cock is currently fucking forward against you that you almost forgot how to jerk a man off by yourself.
His hand had been doing all the work for you, and you’re quick to take over.
Sunghoon lends a very small gasp at the way you try to grasp, and instantly both of his arms shoot to the chair behind your head. He grips it, dropping his chin to the top of your head before thrusting a bit harsher into the grip you try to hold on him.
“Harder.” He exhales, his cock twitching in your weak hold. “Grab me harder.”
You do, squeezing the bulge before intentionally adjusting it for him, allowing the head of his bulbous cock to peek from the top of his briefs.
His relieved sigh is enough, you can’t help it. With his chin sat atop your head like this, you have no choice but to watch the way he moves his hips. Just like he did on camera. His abs flex with each movement, his arms grip behind you on the chair tighter, and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from his desperate body even if you wanted to.
You thrust up too, as if your body craves what you’re already touching. And you do crave it, so much so that your clit aches against the denim you’re rubbing up against. Unfortunate that you wore these fucking jeans, honestly.
“Mr. Park–” You let out a small and frustrated cry, using your other hand to try and fail at unbuttoning your own pants.
He hides his smile at the way you’ve reverted back to his professional title, but pays no mind to it because that’s what he wanted to hear in your voice that night. A desperate sound of his name, a plea, a cry. He can’t help but cling to it and bury that pretty voice into the darkest parts of his brain. A memory he’ll revisit time and time again after this. That sound, those pretty lips, this weak grasp you have. For the time being, it’s his. You belong to him right now.
“Hm?” He hums out, fucking his hips forward while tilting his head back to look at you. “What is it, baby?”
Oh. You lost your train of thought.
Thankfully, he seems to do the thinking for you as he shifts his eyes down and watches you try to both please him and remove your own pants. A cute sight to him, really. Someone who was just scolding him for wanting this, fumbling for more?
So cute.
He chuckles, pulling his hips back from your hand and grabbing it, unbothered by the loss of your touch. Instantly he intertwines his fingers with yours, and grasps your other hand from your pants to do the same. Both your arms raise by his guidance to the back of the chair before he releases them.
You watch with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes as he lowers himself, right onto his knees before he unbuttons your pants for you and very politely pulls them from your legs.
“This what you want?” He smiles, lying his cheek right against your exposed thigh and taking a deep inhale. It’s taking everything in him not to fawn over the woman who had him in his thoughts for the past however long, truly.
Then again, he’s weak. He doesn’t even look up at you through his words and, instead, nuzzles his nose right up and against the seat of your panties before inhaling with a pleasant hum. “To have me finally touching this pretty pussy for you?”
God damn, if you didn’t already know it was him on that camera, you do now. He speaks the same type of words, with the same confidence, the same sultry tone…
You can barely comprehend the way he slowly takes his own pants off because you’re too focused on the way he runs his lips across your skin with dirty thoughts spilling from them. Fingers tucked under either side of your panties in preparation before he eventually pulls them off of you.
“Did you wear those pants to hide yourself from me?” He comments now with an amused tone. “Knowing you wanted me to take them off of you anyway?”
You shake your head at him, holding your breath. You did wear them to hide, but you never would have expected this situation to go in a direction involving his mouth anywhere near where you need it. Sure, you assumed he would have rejected you, you assumed that if it was him– he’d have been so disgusted with himself that he’d only gag at your presence.
But no. You were bold in your words, and he seems to feed into that.
“No?” He furrows his brows and lifts his head. Now lowering your panties much like he did for your pants. He’s quick with his next action, seemingly hiding his own desperation through playful comments at you. “Why not?” He adds, instantly pressing his thumb against your clit and fucking shining his eyes up at you with a semi-pouted mouth.
You roll your eyes back at the sudden pressure, relaxing your shoulders and slouching down in the chair. Your legs spread further on instinct, granting him a full view of your sticky cunt parting open for him.
His eyes glance down, peering into the heat you offered once before ever knowing it was him looking. Clicking his tongue, he can’t help but bite his lower lip to hold himself back. He hopes you don’t notice the way his hand finds its way to his own cock, he really, really hopes you don’t see him act so pathetic over this.
But you do. The moment your eyes roll back into place and get a look at him. One of his shoulders is moving, but the action is hidden by not only the chair, but his fucking face. He’s got his lips parted and he’s licking his lower lip. Slicking it up with his own saliva before–
“So quiet,” He hums with glistening lips, lending himself a light hold with his cock and pretending it’s you doing it for him. “You have nothing to say for yourself?” He adds now, inhaling once more the scent of your slick dripping for him as he leans in just a bit more.
“Oh–!” You yelp slightly at the feeling of his teeth digging into the flesh just to the side of your core. He bites down harder and harder, licking the flesh between his teeth before sucking hard against it. The sweat and scent of your full-day at work does nothing to calm his raging cock. He loves it and it only grows his appetite for you. Licking, sucking, nibbling at the skin until he’s sure he’ll leave a nice, painful swell to rub against your panties later. Only then does he release your skin from his still-tasting mouth.
The relief when he releases your thigh is short lived because he offers not even a full two seconds before you feel his mouth circle your clit. Like he can’t help himself, like he can’t tease you right now even if he wanted to.
A flick of his tongue sends a shiver down your spine straight to your toes and you can’t stop your legs from immediately wrapping around his head. You hear his muffled “mmf” when you do that, but he keeps you from apologizing for it because his free hand goes straight under your ass and scoots you even closer to his tongue.
And if you didn’t already think Sunghoon knew how to use that mouth for more than just being a professional business man, you do now. With the way that same tongue that used to taste the morning coffee you’d bring him now tastes you. Deeply.
He licks, flicks, and sucks every fold. Slurping up any dripping heat that slips out of you before pressing his tongue in and nuzzling his nose against your clit. He’s not quiet about it either. He moans with each lick, hums every time your legs squeeze around his neck, slurps and loudly sucks.
It’s pornographic, it’s sexy, it’s–
Suddenly, you feel a sharp jolt shoot through you, having not even noticed his hand moving from your ass to your front, moving straight up under your shirt. His fingers immediately find your nipple and pinches hard. So hard that your previous moan only becomes prolonged. Grows louder, breathier.
He pinches and massages your nipple with the intent to keep you loud for him. Office setting or not, he could give less of a shit about that right now. He ignores the strain on his wrist from your bra, he uses his other hand to grip himself harder, and you can’t help but squeeze him tighter between your thighs until you’re, quite literally, shaking.
Your hips are sliding against his face with each jolt of pleasure, practically riding him, and his cock is now entirely neglected because you can’t help but want more. You need more. And he gives it, by now releasing himself and keeping both hands on you. One holding the outside of your thigh, almost pushing you to squeeze tighter, the other incessantly abusing your nipple.
He chokes out a moan through his messy movements, never quite knowing where to put his hands solely because he wants to touch all of you. His cock is just fine being neglected, he thinks, as he realizes just how much pleasure he gets from feeling you wrap yourself around him like this.
It feels better than jerking himself off.
“Mr. P–” You sigh out, still not quite used to actually calling him his name, but the sound of it reminds you time and time again how wrong this situation is supposed to be.
You’re sitting on this soft chair, pussy being spread apart by a tongue none other than the man who signs your paychecks. And just this morning you were terrified of him ever even getting a glimpse of you without pants on? God, how stupid could you be? You should’ve been chasing this man’s touch since the day you looked at him for the first time.
“Fuck–” You moan out for him, brain spitting thoughts at you as each second passes. The danger of this, the fact that he genuinely got off to you before you knew it was him. The secrecy of his perverted thoughts and actions…it’s all so… “So, you’re so – hot.”
You feel him laugh, kissing the pulsing hole of your pussy when he pulls his tongue back to swallow. And for just a few moments, he turns his head, gripping your thigh with his teeth once again before speaking back to you, muffled by the hot skin.
“Yeah?” He laughs, now pulling his hand from your bra and lifting to your chin, pointing your gaze down at him, forcing you to see the way your thighs nearly suffocate him against your pussy. “Then keep your eyes on me.”
And you do, especially when he uses both of his hands now, nudging them between your legs and forcing them from his shoulders. He rests your legs on the arms of the chair instead and flicks his eyes up at you.
“You watching?” He makes this a point, blowing a small breath of air straight at your clit before receiving a dazed and slow nod from you. “Keep your legs open too.”
That’s the last thing he says before his mouth is full again, sucking your folds between his teeth before tucking his tongue right back into your hole. He tastes for just a few moments before you feel those same lips on your clit. He lets it throb in his open mouth as he listens carefully to your little sounds, especially now that he’s sliding his fingers into you.
You gasp, holding your breath at the feeling. His fingers slide in, reaching deep before he scissors them open. And all you feel from it is pleasure. You can’t help that your eyes roll back again, but you do try to keep your gaze fixed on his. With his eyes so rounded, blinking up at you with his strong jaw moving with each swallow of his own muffled moans.
He sucks your clit, fucks your cunt open, and relishes in the way he will soon get to splay you across his desk and really let you have it.
And he does this for a few minutes, though in your head it goes by so fast that you nearly get whiplash from the way he pulls back with a wet sound and grins at you.
“Aw, baby–” He coos at the face you make, seemingly disappointed to lose all stimulation at once, but he’s quick to lift to his feet and lean back over you.
Oh, his cock. It’s right there.
Oh.
His face–
“You’re so fucking wet right now.” He murmurs against the corner of your mouth with a raspy whisper, easily and without warning slipping two of his fingers right back into the heat that he just denied himself of licking more. “You hear that?” He continues with a sharp toothed bite to your lip. “How wet you are?”
You groan at the way he slams his fingers in, out, in, out, in…He keeps them there, pressed so far into you that you can physically feel the way your pussy tries to push him out again.
“Could slip it in right now–” He moans out at how tight you clench just his fingers. “Fuck, could be so deep in you.”
Your face feels hot as a bashful feeling overtakes you. His voice hits so much harder when you feel his breath along with it. His fingers, his cock right up against you. You want him to slip it in. To stuff his cock in you so fast, no room to adjust, not a second to even catch your breath.
God, you need it right now. It’s been too long since you’ve felt a real person touch you, you can’t help that you feel so desperate. The clench isn’t on purpose, your body tells him all he needs to know, all while he tells you all you could only wish to hear fall from someone’s lips.
And not just anyone. His lips.
You shoot your arms around his neck and it's not really intentional but– an actual kiss. You need it.
He seems pleased by it though, with the way his tongue immediately asks for more. One hand moves to brace your cheek, the other still fucking into you so good that you can’t keep a single moan down. He takes full control of the initiated kiss solely because you kissed him first. Almost hungrily, he licks into your mouth with his own muffled groan, encouraging you to keep being pretty like this. Just so you can see what he’ll do to you.
And, damn. He guides your body like a puppet, stiffening his shoulders when he licks into your mouth and threatening to pull away by raising himself up just a bit. He knew you’d chase the kiss, and you do. You lift with him, your ass lifting from the chair just to keep his tongue against yours, and he takes the elevated position and angles his hand just a bit. There, his fingers fuck into you harder, faster, so much fucking deeper until– you feel his fingers stop at a painfully deep spot inside of you.
He pulls back from the kiss, looking down between your bodies, and your eyes follow his gaze. Right there, he’s placed his knee up against his own wrist, forcing his fingers to remain deep and unmoving in you.
You take in a sharp inhale, seeing the way he lets your body fall back to the seat of the chair, only forcing him to skew his fingers and– “Oh, god!”
You moan out so suddenly that it even shocks him for a moment, but he takes your weakness and uses it to his advantage. Quickly, he licks into your moaning mouth, tickling his fingers upwards, pulling even more animalistic sounds from you.
“Yeah?” He whispers frantically, so turned on by the way your entire body stiffens. “Right there?” He continues, leaning his full body weight forward with his knee, wincing at the way he presses his cock against anything he can find in the process, just to get you off right here, right now.
You nod just as frantically, toes curling, arms shooting to the chair in a form that should appear as discomfort, but really you’re just bracing yourself through the tensing of your muscles before all of them relax and pulse at once.
Your ears pop, but you can still hear your desperate cries of his name somewhere distant. You can even hear him, humming and encouraging your orgasm. You wish you could hold your eyes open to see him, to grab him and force him to fuck his fingers hard into you. God, you could take it right now. You could take just about anything to heighten this feeling of stars bursting behind your eyelids.
Somehow though, it’s like he knows. Half-way through your orgasm, you feel the weight between your legs shift and his fingers start moving again. Still, your eyes are squeezed shut, and you can't help but to lunge forward and hug against his neck, clinging to him through the prolonged orgasm that his fingers alone have brought to you.
“Squeezing me so tight–” Sunghoon groans, unsure of if he’s referring to the way your needy cunt crowds his fingers, or the way you cling to him like a lost pet, begging for him to never leave your sight. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”
You hear those words over any of his others. So clear in your head as you snap your head up and look at him. You see him lower his gaze, but your grip doesn’t quite allow him to actually look down at you. Not when he has to physically hold you up anyway. Still, he looks amused up there, knowing that single compliment must’ve hit somewhere inside of you.
You’re not sure why, through all this, Sunghoon calling you pretty makes it so much more intimate. And even as your legs continue to shake, and you release your death grip hug on him, he keeps himself crowded up to you. He’s somehow out of breath just like you are, relishing in the calm silence of your post orgasm as he…Jesus.
It’s not just your imagination. Somehow, it is intimate. It’s the way he pulls his fingers out and both hands shoot to your face. First, he kisses you as if you’re a long lost love. Deeply, slowly. Then, he’s putting one hand at the small of your back, nudging his knee right back between your legs, and pulling you right up against him.
“Who did you cum for?” Sunghoon asks, pulling back just to lick against your lips and stare directly down at you. “Say my name.”
You don’t hesitate, echoing out with a winced expression, still so out of breath while rubbing your clit to the expanse of his thigh.
“Su-Sunghoo-Sunghoon-”
“Yeah?” He encourages you, hearing his name heat his ears up. He moves his pussy-slicked fingers to your mouth while you cry his name, and easily presses your tongue down with them, sliding the digits further and further down your throat. “Sunghoon.” He says his own name. “Say it again.”
You gag around his fingers, unable to obey his demand.
“Sung–” He inspects the way your tongue struggles against the intrusion in your mouth. “Hoon.”
You swallow around them now, sputtering, tears now running down the outer apples of your cheeks. He watches you do it too, wondering how good that would feel if it were his cock you’re swallowing around. Knowing you’d probably do it for him if he wanted to right now.
But…he needs more than that. Despite how delicious you look while gagging, his cock has been neglected and he needs to fuck out the stress from the past however long you’ve been avoiding him. It’s like his brain breaks with the action as he watches you take his fingers in whatever way he offers. You let him do whatever he wants. You’re obeying.
“Up.” He suddenly says, pulling all physical contact with you away as he turns, steps out of the pants restricting his ankles, and swipes every pen, file, and picture frame off his desk. “Come here, baby.”
You feel like you’re melted to this chair right now, in all honesty. You’re still trying to catch your breath just from touching his cock before he decided to make you see fucking stars, to think you can stand right now is insane.
So, when you don’t immediately hop up and throw yourself onto his desk, he turns to look at you.
You’re splayed out, legs still spread, toes still curled. Your chest is heaving to breathe, eyes wild and lips so fucking kissable.
“Oh, fuck.” He sighs to himself in realization, relishing in the image of you he’s only recently been craving. “Look at you.”
You lift your arm to hide your face, feeling apologetic for the way you’ve lost the ability to exist as an active participant right now. Even more apologetic when you glance down at how fucking hard his cock is. Raging hard, so pretty with the tip sputtering precum for god knows how long.
He watches you stare, and lends you a few moments to catch your breath by gripping it himself. Leaning himself against his desk and twisting his wrist with a tight grip at the base.
“Is this how you looked at me when I did this before?” He asks, flicking his wrist still with each drag. “So out of it, you look like such a mess, babe.”
You find yourself humming a confirmation to him as you watch, almost reverting back to who you were during that first session. Unseen, only heard, all while you got to see him pleasure himself to almost nothing. You gave him nothing.
You’ve still only given him nothing.
And so, very slowly, you force yourself to stand on shaking legs to take those two strides to his desk. Something inside of you tingles when he drops his cock and opens his arms for you, like a good boss would do in this situation. Supporting your unbalanced weight, letting you walk into his comforting grasp.
“Said my name so pretty, you know.” He comments gently when he holds you close to him. Hands reaching down from the grip around your waist just to grab both of your fleshy ass checks and squeeze them. “You want more, yes?”
He’s quick to the point, only allowing the short and sweet moments to last just enough for them to stick in your head. Just enough to have questions about his actions. Just enough to give him anything, everything, he could want if it involves your body.
You nod almost shyly, dipping your head down and leaning against his chest.
“Let's get this off of you then.” He smiles with a gentle voice, reaching to the hem of your shirt and pulling it straight up, watching how you lift your arms to help him. “Mhm–” He hums again, loving how the bra drags off of you along with the shirt. He lets both of his hands brush your nipples before he goes back to gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them.
Spreading them so wide that, once again, you have to lift on your toes just to let him play with your body. Which, oh man. Always wearing his button down shirts, his blazers, his long-sleeve shirts. You can’t help it when you tug at the opened fabric of his shirt, asking silently that he shake it off. Wanting to see his arms, wanting to see the strength in them.
And he does it without hesitation, letting his hands fall from you just for a moment to shake his shirt off, only now hugging against you again and forcing a position change. He turns both of you so now you’re up against his desk, and he’s standing in front of you.
It’s easy for him to push you back in a kiss. Your legs open for him on instinct anyway, so he need not worry about prying those legs open again. You do just as expected when he pushes you too. Your ass hits the desk and you lift on your toes to sit on it. Your legs spread wider, making room for him to step even closer, cock right up against you when he closes any amount of distance, and still? He’s kissing you.
All across your face, down your neck, back to your lips. And his hands just keep feeling. Massaging your tits, lending small taps to your ass, holding your chin, jaw, neck, and then…he runs them through your hair.
The feeling is so good you almost forget how you’ve been trying to steal a glimpse of his flexing arms as he grabs at you. Goosebumps prickle and you let out a groan at the pleasure of it. He keeps one hand there now, smiling against his kiss to your ear.
“You like being pampered?” He asks, now gripping a fist full of your hair and skewing your neck to the side. “Like being moved around like a puppet?”
Never once have you thought about your sex life that way, but when you think about it…maybe. After all, you did enjoy being told when and how to touch yourself, being allowed or forbidden from cumming. Now, with him quite literally moving you around with just a simple grip of your hair? Yeah.
“By you–” You mutter out as you open your eyes, staring at the ceiling and feeling his tongue lap against your earlobe.
“Just me?” He leans back, using that same grip in your hair to force you to look at him. “You’d give me that power?”
You nod against the grasp, lips falling open in a moan despite not being pleasured by anything aside from the stinging against your scalp as he pulls little hairs a bit too tightly.
“You know–” Sunghoon starts now, pressing his hips forward, dropping his other hand to his cock and slapping it right against your weeping cunt. “If I had known you were this dirty...”He sighs out at the image in his head, thinking back to all those times he silently complimented you in his head. Back then, never would he have made comments about your legs out loud, or how your tits would look in certain shirts. Thinking back now, he’s always found you quite beautiful.
Quite fuckable, even.
You listen to the silence waiting for him to continue, feeling the way he presses the hardened head of his length against your clit repeatedly.
“I would have propped you up on this desk months ago,” He smiles now, leaning in real close to your ear as his grip in your hair loosens just a bit. “Could’ve had you moaning my name this whole time.”
Then, you feel it. The way he adjusts his weeping cock lower, prodding at your hole just a bit until his tip is entirely enveloped by your clenching walls.
You swallow a moan and hold your breath, legs shooting around his waist and instinctively trying to force his hips to move forward, trying to force him to penetrate you deeper.
“Shh,” He coos out, holding his hips firm and not letting you control his movements. Then, he kisses just under your ear before peppering them all the way back to your lips. He doesn’t kiss you though, no, he chuckles at you for trying. Watching you let your tongue fall from your mouth, inspecting the way you’re entirely in tune for him right now. “You really want it, don’t you?” He whispers just above your lips. “Want me to fuck you right here, right now?”
You nod absentmindedly, legs still trying to force him to move, arms clinging under his biceps, head still forced into whatever position he keeps it in by the hair.
“Please–Sunghoon.” You cry in a small voice, feeling as if you’re going insane by the feeling of his tip sitting comfortably in you.
“You’re so cute.” He smiles, lending you another inch of his length before letting his hand fall from your hair. There, he grips your waist instead, letting a strained grunt fall from his own lips this time. He’s really trying to remain collected about this, and he’s unsure himself why he’s enjoying the act of teasing you like this. He feels like he’s teasing himself more than you right now, seeing as how it’s taking everything in him not to stuff his cock into you hard and fast. “So–so, fucking cute.”
You clench around the few inches in you and it appears that’s all he needed to break entirely. Is he controlling you, or are you controlling him?
Honestly, who gives a fuck?
You feel his arms shake when he plants them at either side of you, pointing his cock straight into you and sliding in fully. There’s a groan from him that you want to hear so badly, but your own heart beat is thumping in your ears so loudly that you miss half of it.
The stretch is delicious, and the fact that it’s Sunghoon doing this to you makes this all the more enjoyable. The man who you’ve seen day after day, now holding himself up on the desk you’ve signed papers on with and for him? All so he can angle his hips and shove his cock in? Just to let his arms frantically wrap around your waist? Just so he can scoot you forward on this desk, using your leaking slick to slide you back and forth in time with his hips?
That groan you wanted to hear? He hasn’t stopped. He’s essentially, controlling the entire situation and when you half open your eyes to witness his face, you’re forced to roll your eyes back in a moan matching his.
He’s fucking you so deeply right now that all you can do is moan, all you can do is forget the embarrassment, the victimization, the way he’s doing this to you despite the risk of reality crumbling. He could lose his job, you could lose yours, and yet still– he’s fucking you like he doesn’t care.
So, you choose not to care either in the form of grabbing his hair, forcing his head back, and attaching your lips right against his adams apple. You feel him swallow and breathe out a shocked sound, and then? You suck.
Intentionally, you suck, bite, and lick, harder and harder until there’s a deep purple mark there. He doesn’t even fight it, though you feel him try to move his head just to keep you from going too insane with it. You don’t care though, because still you feel his cock splitting you open, forcing you to adjust to him.
“Ah,” Sunghoon lets out another breath with that familiar chuckle, “Marking me now?”
You hum a confirmation as you move to a new spot on his neck, absolutely fucking marking him. Feeling devastated by the idea that he’d do this with any other employee. Or any other person in general.
“Making me all yours, huh?” He continues with his cocky words, feeling the way your pussy clenches him tightly, dripping all over his desk. He’d let you make him yours, with or without the bruising from your mouth.
“Mhm.” You hum pleasantly, letting out little yelps each time he slams into you. Letting out full moans each time his arms wrap around your waist tighter.
You continue with the act, littering his pretty neck with your touch and loving how he just lets you. Knowing that he’ll show up at work tomorrow looking a bit tired, but glowing nonetheless, trying to hide all these marks with that tight-necked collar he likes to wear.
“Whatever you want.” He breathes, letting his hips lose rhythm for just a moment as he feels his muscles tighten. “Fuck, you’re still so tight.”
You feel like you’re on top of the world as he compliments you, to the point you’re not sure when you’ll cum because your whole body has seemingly been feeling euphoria anyway. Everything feels good, even if his cock reaches deep enough to cause little jolts of pain. The sound of the desk scooting back through the force of his hips is enough to make you take it. Enough to squeeze your legs around him tighter, enough to clench, enough to– forget what you’re doing and let yourself fall into it with him.
Your head falls back from his neck and you pant out little half-calls of his name with each thrust. Your legs loosen from around him too, but his grip on your waist only pushes you back on his desk. Until he’s leaning forward so hard with each thrust that suddenly your back meets the cold wood.
Sandwiched between him and his desk, he follows the action, his hands quickly moving from your waist to your tits, pushing them together just so he can nuzzle his face between them.
There, you look at him. You really look at him.
What a messy, messy, man. Always so pristine during working hours, now looking so wrecked and out of it as he chases a pleasure that you hope only you can give to him.
“Mr. Park–” You sigh out in a pleasant voice, watching the way he sucks your tit into his mouth before his eyes open wide just so he can look up at you through each thrust. “Harder.”
You can physically see the way his eyes darken when he pops off from your tit, hands now going back to the desk as he hovers over you and intentionally rolls his hips.
You feel his cock loosen you up painfully before he intentionally fucks into you. Dragging all the way out, just to push forward in a deep and painful thrust. Over and over again, all while he’s staring straight into your eyes.
As you look up at him, you see the intent in his face. The way he wants to give you exactly what you want. Sweat shining from his cheeks, his neck littered with pretty colors. Oh, he’s actually heavenly when he fucks.
Better than what you thought that guy on camera would have been. He’s not nonchalant like he was when he was performing. He’s entirely in tune with you and what you want. Like what you want is what he wants.
You can tell he’s paying no mind to his own face or expression, blatantly putting all of his thoughts into how he’s pleasuring you, his eyes searching your face to tell him he’s doing well. To tell him you feel good, to tell him you’re close or–
“Fuck–” He sighs out, teeth tracing his bottom lip as he glances up, keeping pace with the way he’s been plunging into you. “I can’t keep looking at you,”
You smile, feeling dazed and far away. It feels like it’s just you and him. You’re not in his office, on a desk, or doing anything you shouldn’t be doing.
“You hear me?” He drops his body weight on you again, letting his hips move freely as he chases and chases. “I’m so close.”
Oh.
“Then look at me.” You huff out, now shooting a hand between his flexed abs and simply…touching your clit once.
“Oh–shit.”
It hits you so fast. Just a simple touch causes your pussy to clench Sunghoon so tightly that he mimics your sound.
“Ah, fuck- fuck,” His voice sounds frantic as he tries to pull out, only to feel your legs shoot back around him. This time, he lets you force him to stay. He lets those legs of yours push him back in, so deep that he knows he can’t fight. “No, no–” He chokes out, uncaring if his hips show you that he’s lying with his words. “I’m cumming– I need to–”
“Stay!” You shake beneath him but your voice sounds pleading, pressing once more to your clit before letting it go. You clench him again, essentially letting your body finish him off. Letting those clenches squeeze him so tightly, making sure he couldn’t fathom ever wasting his cum. “Don’t pull out.”
He doesn’t. In fact, he presses impossibly deeper, trying to bury his cock into you to the point it even pains him. Arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up again, only to drop his lips to yours under his own weight. His hips are so tense between your legs, his cock is so stiff that you can feel each pumped release, and still you’re experiencing your own euphoria through it.
To the point your toes are curling and you barely notice the way you leave welts across his back from your fingernails through the intense orgasm. To the point his slack lips against yours feel more natural than anything else. Not kissing, just close. So close that–
He kisses you.
After it’s all said and done, he still kisses you breathlessly. Passionately almost, clinging to you as his cock twitches as it grows flaccid inside of you.
He doesn’t pull out, he just…kisses.
And as you lay against his wooden desk, body coming down from the pleasure you’ve felt more than once within the past hour, all you can do is let your brain think on its own. Without shame, without embarrassment or anxiety.
You thought Sunghoon would have been in control the whole time. Teasing you, maybe even making this experience more painful than it needs to be. But no, he…
He’s soft. Gentle, almost.
Only now do you recognize that as badly as he probably wants to appear harsh, like the confident man he is on camera, you think he needs something else. Not just power, not just money or control. Not even just fucking.
You think…maybe, Sunghoon needs connection.
Intimacy.
And that’s proven when he does finally stand on his own buckled knees, pulling you up with him into a hug where he still kisses you. Up until he takes that shirt you unbuttoned and holds it between your legs, scratching the back of his neck with a shy glance at you.
“Sorry for the mess.” He echoes in a meek voice, holding that shirt firm against you. “Guess I just couldn’t help myself.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Days later, you find yourself in his bed. Which should have been expected probably. Still doesn’t change the fact that every few hours, you remind yourself the reality of the situation.
It’s not just any bed you’re in. It’s Sunghoon’s bed.
“Oh, right. The promotion.” Sunghoon suddenly calls out mid-episode.
You’ve been here with him all day. To the point neither of you bother to put on clothes now because you know the spark will come back at any given time and you’ll be all over each other again. Still, lazing in his bed with him on a Saturday afternoon is nice.
“I’ve been a bit occupied but– the interviews for the assistant position has been pushed back a bit due to you not coming to work. I was supposed to notify you when you got back, but you know, we had priorities–”
Sunghoon sighs, embarrassed. It’s nice actually, seeing him in his natural element. Allowing you to see him as more than just the guy that wears a suit and tie every day at work.
“Unrelated to us…doing this, but, you’re up for the interview. Just need to schedule it with me. If you still want to be my assistant, I mean.”
“Oh, I can only imagine what that could entail.”
Sunghoon seems offended by this remark as he pulls back with furrowed brows.
“Excuse me?”
“Did you fuck the last one too?” You give him a playful smile, prodding at his soft-skinned chest.
“Absolutely not?!”
“You’re still gonna fuck me too though, right? Even if I’m constantly having to nag you for signatures and meetings?”
Sunghoon stares at you before smiling.
“Well, let's see if you get the job anyway. Rhonda from Marketing is applying too.”
You lend a half-joke gag at him.
“Is it too forward to ask for special attention for the position along with a sexual favor?” You tread the thin line. “I’m half joking but wouldn’t it be like…normal for us to be seen around each other at work if I’m working a job that requires it?”
Sunghoon thinks hard.
“You’re really asking to fuck your way up the ladder?”
“Aren’t you the one who offered it so I wouldn’t tell your dirty little secret?” You narrow your eyes at him. “But no, I’m asking for the job I’ve been trying to earn for ages. Besides, I’d still fuck you anyway.”
“Fair.” Sunghoon thinks harder still. “Rhonda would probably find out too, if she were to get the position anyway, considering my assistants are often intertwined in my personal business as well.”
“Oh, I’m personal business now?”
“Babe, my hand has been on your tit for an hour now.”
Well, he’s not wrong.
“Rhonda is really close with HR too…” You trail off, feeling a bit anxious. “I think she’d hold it over both of us if she found out.”
“In all fairness, you’ve been considered for the job more than a few times the past few months. Rhonda only applied during your two week avoidance of me. The reason she’s even up for the position is because my boss thinks you’re too flaky.”
Oh, so you have a chance with or without putting his dick in your mouth again?
“Who else has applied?”
“Confidential.” Sunghoon shrugs. “I still have to follow company rules even if we’re breaking a few of them right now. What I can tell you is, over fifteen other candidates have already been phased out by me personally.”
You pause.
“Why?”
“Bad matches, mostly. Two of them have been caught talking shit about me through the company emails, and the others? Many outside applicants, all freshman college students with strict schedules.”
“Being my assistant is not an easy job, and even before all of this, you’ve practically been doing the job already, better than the current assistant I have.”
You damn fucking right you have.
“How many are still in the running?”
“Two.”
Oh, this job is soooooo yours.
“Just, one more thing.” Sunghoon sighs. “If you get this job, we cannot be fucking in my office. No sexual stuff at work. We can take lunch together, or I’ll bring you home after work, but absolutely nothing at work.”
Oh, he thinks you want him that badly?
“Who says I need to fuck you during work hours anyway? I know how to control myself.”
“It’s not you who I’m worried about.” Sunghoon looks away, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Yeah?” You smile. “You gonna be calling me into your office just to torture yourself?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
pls remember to leave feedback and reblog! :D love you!
DAY 16: remote control, high protocol, fire play | wc: 1.6k
summary: watching your boyfriend struggle to mantain his composure, the worried looks and being the only one who knows. sunghoon, despite his quiet image, lived on the thrill and you loved that about him.
tags: idol au, suggestive, remote control, high protocol, fire play (kinda), vibrators (sh rec.), degradation, riding, orgasm control, dirty talking, petnames (baby, hoonie), smoking (both r and sh), public (sh wears a vibrator on stage)
a/n: this one was my favorite prompt out of al 31 of them!! this is also the first fic i started working on for kinktober haha. i hope you can like reading this as much as i liked writing it!!!
the music was good, echoing into your ears as your eyes stayed still on sunghoon, staring right into him waiting for his reaction. around there was a sea of screaming fangirls, singing along, laughing and having fun— they had no idea about you, who you were and the only reason why you were at the concert.
you and sunghoon have dated for almost a year now, and finally you were brave enough to try this, something you've been wanting to try ever since you got together. now, as sunghoon was dancing on stage you held one tiny, black remote in your hand. you didn't turn it on yet, waiting for the perfect moment. he looked nervous, his face was covered in sweat and he looked around, waiting for something to happen. every minute that passed was pure torture, his moves were unsteady, he seemed guarded, tense even. but you waited, enjoying the look of desperation on his face. you thought about fans online claiming he was sick today because he looked so different from the other concerts, blaming the company of overworking them, giving them not enough rest and leading them to exhaustion. then as he sang his line on the song you turned it on, low setting but it was still enough to make his voice crack as his eyes widened in shock. he shot you a knowing look, lips between his teeth. one of the members looked at him confused but said nothing, it wasn’t that big of a deal— just a regular voice crack. for the rest of the time you kept changing the setting of his vibrator as you pleased, switching from the highest to the lowest setting without a second thought, altering moments of quiet— with the vibrator off— to whole songs with it on full power.
you swore sunghoon has never looked this beautiful, the nervousness on his face as he looked around trying to keep his composure, his eyes darted from the crowd of screaming fans to the cameras and from the cameras to the fans, while avoiding as much as possible the curious and concerned glances of his friends and bandmates. you could imagine what they were thinking: why was he acting so strange today? He seemed fine during the soundcheck…
by the time the concert was over, sunghoon was a squirming mess, his legs trembling no matter how hard he tried to keep it together. he was glad he was wearing baggy jeans, it made his problem less noticeable. his brain was so disconnected from his body he didn't notice the wetness on his underwear until he was in the bathroom, precum and cum stared at him from his grey boxers, an unmistakable sign that what happened was real. there was no hiding it— he finally realized that was why you gave him that specific pair of underwear.
his hand instinctively reached his bulge, seeking release, forgetting about all of your rules. a notification from his phone made him stop— as if you were able to sense it, you texted him: i’m in the black car at the back. before he could even think about it he snapped a picture of his wet underwear and sent it. he wasn't sure about what he was trying to obtain, maybe just some pity, compassion from you. something that he knew was impossible, you enjoyed his suffering too much, walking him gently, slowly to his breaking point, playing with him until he loses control over his body. you didn't reply to his message, you simply reacted with the laugh option. he sighed as he left the bathroom, ignored and denigrated in this way by his own girlfriend. he wondered why he liked it so much. even earlier on stage, in front of thousands of people, people who saw him as a role model, the embarrassment wasn't enough to fight the excitement he felt. he had discovered this twisted world with you, together you had stepped into it, you had discovered each other's most intimate aspects and your own too. bringing this secret world outside the bedroom, in front of an unknowing audience, gave sunghoon an euphoric rush of adrenaline that ran down his spine and spread throughout his whole body.
the car ride was long and silent, you didn’t even turn the radio on, didn’t greet him— unless you considered laughing at the blush on his face a form of greeting. the silence made it worse. sunghoon had no way to distract himself, to occupy his mind and ignore his body. the vibrator, still deep inside him, was off. and he thanked the stars for it. he had no idea where you kept the remote, but not being able to see it was good news. he could have a little peace, a chance to let his body calm down. his mental state was unimportant; at that moment, he was hanging completely on your every word. and you knew it, you knew it very well. that's why you didn't speak, your eyes straight ahead, fixed on the road in front of you. the hotel wasn't too far from the stadium where the concert was held, but you nonetheless decided to take the longer route. you had always found car rides and driving relaxing. it was a nice way to start your night.
you stayed silent as you walked into your booked hotel room too. there wasn’t much to say, sunghoon already knew what to do and you both were tired. you took off your shoes, lit a cigarette, the bitter taste of smoke in your mouth and a new warm sensation in your chest that made you feel at home. you had chosen this hotel specifically because you could smoke in the room without any hassle, even though, unfortunately- or fortunately- you were separated from the other members. sunghoon, meanwhile, undressed, leaving only his underwear on. the wet patch of precum had spread across the tight fabric of his underwear, but you ignored it. he knelt in front of the bed, back straight, so perfectly composed— though you expected nothing else from him. you handed him the cigarette you had in your mouth as you headed to the bathroom, you too couldn't wait to take off those clothes you had been wearing for so long , throw on something more comfortable. you took the remoter for sunghoon's toy with you, which you turned on as soon as you closed the door behind you. the boy's sudden, loud gasp was perfectly audible. you imagined his face contorting, surprised by the new and abrupt feeling. the vibrator was set to the lowest setting; you just wanted to tease him a little. he was already agitated, and you wondered how far he would go.
he was smoking the fag you gave him, the action seemed so unnatural when he was sitting up so straight, like a russain ballerina. you smiled, pat his head, fingers lingering almost a second too long on his soft black hair. you laid down in bed, phone in hand and remote control next to you on the mattress. you scrolled on your social media, answered texts while sunghoon, being the obedient boy he was, stayed still in his position— occasional whimpers and moans coming out of his lips as you frequently changed the setting of the vibrator, you could see the way his nails digged into his skin, that now was red and irritated. he was trying so hard not to cum. “baby come here with me,” your hand patting the spot beside you on the mattress. “get me a cigarette first.” sunghoon complied with a vigorous nod.
he didn't lie down, even though he was on the bed, he sat on his heels and handed you the cigarette you had requested and a lighter. you lit it for him without looking at him, blowing smoke to the other side, before you gave your undivided attention to sunghoon. you stared at his bulge, still there, unmoved. “damn, hoonie, you're so hard,” you giggled, flame still on the lighter as you got it worryingly close to his crotch. “bet you want me to touch you, huh? just like a desperate slut…” he nodded biting his lips, eyes closed. the flame was hot, so close to him that he was afraid his underwear might catch fire. he didn't realize he was holding his breath; it came out soft and shaky from his nose. “use your words, hoonie.” your condescending tone as he sighed, the flame ever closer, the heat of it ever stronger.
“yes, yes, baby please, please touch me…” he whispered, eyes closed, he didn't notice you freed your hand from the cigarette to turn up the speed setting of the plastic toy inside him. he jumped in surprise, an erotic sound coming out of his body. you giggled at his reaction, putting the lighter away, taking a drag of the cigarette and blowing the smoke onto his face. “baby… i need to cum, please let me cum.”
you listened, pleased by his plea. “i’ll think about it…” you swiftly removed your own wet panties— sunghoon wasn't the only one affected by the whole situation, you too wanted him inside, but waiting only made it better once obtained. and sunghoon was so beautiful when he begged, when he was desperate. you told him to lie down, took off his underwear and positioned yourself on top of him without warning. you both moaned loudly. you lowered yourself slowly on his hard, big cock. he filled you up fully, making you feel complete. by know you were pretty sure you could recognize sunghoon from how his dick felt inside you alone, and get every time was like the first, you could never get used by it. you kissed him, biting his lips and reached for the remoter once again, hips starting to move slightly, rhythmically. “let's see if you deserve to cum, mh?” you said, turning the vibrator to the highest setting. his moans were only getting louder and you couldn't wait to hear more.
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summary: your obsession with idol sunghoon park wasn't unknown. what your friends thought was a simple, innocent fan thing was hiding something darker. and one day you catch alone, outside the venue after a concert and finally your plan can come true.
tags: idol au, suggestive and dark content!!!!!, kidnapping, dub-con (sh is actually into this but like, he gets kidnapped so), masturbating (r), dry humping, multiple orgasms (just mentioned), restraints, voice kink/fetish, nipple play (sh rec.), dirty talking, petnames (baby, angel, hoonie), sh smokes, secret pervert!sh
a/n: day 2! this is one of the best tropes tbh, tho it was a bit creepy writing it, it took me days because it made me shiver with disgust... i don't know if i were able to show this through my writing tho. i liked the prompt, but maybe i need to get better at writing to fully give it justice.
there had always been something that stopped you from talking to people. getting new friends was a torture, every time you opened your mouth to talk you felt like a heavy brick in your throat blocking you from making any sound, as if someone was actively stopping you from talking, you felt two hands tightening around your neck as your eyes filled with humiliating tears. eventually you realized you were fine on your own, you learned to enjoy your own company, pretend to like spending afternoons alone solving puzzles, not saying a single word for hours, even days sometimes until you forgot the sound of your own voice. you stopped trying to communicate with other people unless it was strictly necessary, this lowered your other-way-perfect grades and you spent all the school years being picked on by bullies, the beautiful girls with no problems. you tried not to care, they weren’t like you, they couldn’t understand what was going on inside you, they were shallow and empty.
there was only one person who understood: idol park sunghoon. he was quiet, unappreciated like you.
your room was tempered with pictures of him— cuts out from band posters and magazines, photocards, everything— you used the skill acquired from solving all those puzzles to understand where he was when he filmed tiktoks, you had a list of the places he liked to spend time in you visited religiously. you had a plan, a way to finally meet the boy that was made for you. it was sick, twisted— you knew that very well, but it was also necessary, wasn’t it? his bands, his fans they weren’t like you, only you could finally give him what he needed. you guys were meant to be together and you’d make it happen in a way or another.
the lights were still on, your computer was playing on loop a video you found on youtube, a playlist of sunghoon fancams. your body was hot, you were barely looking at the screen anymore, arched back and eyes closed while the vibrator moved inside you— it was a special vibrator, your favorite sunghoon’s photocard taped on it, it made you feel closer to the idol. it was set at the highest setting, your hand guided it inside you, vibrating against all your sensitive spots. there was a huge wet spot on the bed under you, some of it was lube but mostly it was your own work, you already came three times, legs trembling and mouth gasping for air. you had no intention of stopping, not until you could physically sustain it. sunghoon was holding the vibrator, silently watching you as you moaned his name louder and louder each time. his other hand on his red hard cock, masturbating with a shit eating eating grin on his face. you wondered if he had ever been with a woman before. secretly, you hoped he hadn't, if he had to have sex with someone it had to be you. you came again on your pink toy with a loud moan and his name screamed. there was no shame, you knew everyone could hear you but you didn’t care. pleasure fogged up your brain, you weren’t able to think straight. in your mind only sunghoon and sex and sex with sunghoon.
your neighbor screamed, hitting the thin wall of his apartment— something about having to work in the morning, respect for other people’s sleep. you didn’t go along with the other people in the building, but you barely ever saw them so you really didn’t care. a sighed escaped your lips, getting up to turn the light off, you would’ve changed the sheets in the morning.
you dreamed of him. of the moment you could finally meet him.
you were counting down the days before the concert, then the hours, and even the minutes before they would get on stage. you were standing right under the stage, first row, the closest you could get. they were six minutes late. you spent the night in the cold air of september to get the best view, every minute without them was a torture. you watched their sound check, of course, but it wasn’t enough. your heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. the sensation stayed even after they walked on stage and started singing, the nervousness in your body made it difficult to stay still. and yet you didn’t move at all. you didn’t dance, didn’t sing, barely even blink. standing still, unwavering the whole time, your eyes fixated on sunghoon and sunghoon alone. you wished all the screaming people around you would shut up, all the people jumping would stop. they were too distracting. you were trying to absorb the most of them, him, that you could and that required you to stay completely still, like a statue. you wanted to go home and remember the concert exactly, minute by minute being able to tell what happened and update you enhypen stan account, telling your thirteen followers all about the experience. you could brag about being so close to them you could basically see their pores.
a young girl tripped, falling on you, distracting you from your task. you didn't even give her time to apologize; you told her to pay more attention and to stand still if she couldn't dance without causing trouble. you heard her turn to her friend and say, “what a fucking bitch. she doesn't even know the songs, she shouldn't have come here.” you ignored her. it wasn’t the first time someone called you a bitch. you never cared before and you definitely weren’t going to care now. your whole life has been about people judging and talking shit about you. you didn’t need the approval of a stupid girl to prove you were a fan of them, you knew that if you wanted you could sing all their discography by heart.
the concert ended too soon. three hours went by with the blink of an eye.
you stayed in the venue until they turned on the light. the vip ticket didn’t even offer a send off. with all the money you paid that should've been granted… your opportunity to see him was over forever now. you stayed inside, in your place that you fought so hard to obtain until they turned on the lights inside the venue, until men started cleaning up the floor from the confetti and spilled water and you were asked to leave.
sunghoon cleaned the sweat off his forehead with his t-shirt before tossing it away near his bag and putting on a clean one. the dressing room after live performances was always characterized by general fatigue and silence. he was as exhausted as he was happy, certain that his soul had long since left his body. screaming fangirls and that annoyingly loud voice in his in-ear for hours on end wasn't the world's best thing, even if he had chosen to lead this life and he was grateful for it, he could still complain. he took cigarettes and lighter out of his makeup bag and headed to the door that lead to the back of the venue, in some creepy dark hallway no one would ever be in at night.
“where are you going?” jungwon’s voice echoed in the room as if it was a cave. he didn’t even give him the time to open the door. the younger man was sitting on the floor, with his back on one of the many bags they had with them, he had already changed into a more comfortable outfit and was scrolling on his phone.
sunghoon shrugged, showed him the items in his hand. “relax, leader. no one will see,” he said at jungwon silent but scary response. despite his cheerful face, sunghoon had learned that jungwon could be really scary when he wanted to, a pointed look from him was enough to send chills down your spine.
you didn’t realize how cold it actually was, but now as you were looking for your car you were shivering, teeth chattering from the cold and hands in your pockets. outside the stadium there was a big, black van— you assumed it was of the enhypen’s, who had been waiting for most of the fans to leave so they could return to the hotel in quiet comfort. your car wasn’t very distant, you arrived so early you were able to find a parking spot on the back of the building. you looked around nervously as you walked for no other reason than being so late at night, it made you nervous even if you were used to being alone. for instance, you noticed a tall man lighting a cigarette so close to your car. he was turning his back to you so you couldn’t see his face, even if probably with how dark it was you wouldn’t be able to distinguish his features even if he turned around. you picked up a big metal stick you found on the floor for safety. you walked as quietly as you could until you were close enough to recognize the man. you froze mid-step.
three seconds was all it took for you to recognize his hair, his big back and arms. it was sunghoon. park sunghoon, smoking a cigarette in front of your car. suddenly you felt a twinge in your heart, anger and betrayal, your emotions got the better of you. was he actually smoking? didn't he know how dangerous it was, how much his fans loved his voice? you couldn't allow it, and before you could think clearly, he was lying on the back seat of your small, old car, blood slowly trickling from a small wound on his forehead—you made sure he was still alive, turned his phone off and put it in your pocket before driving off.
when he woke up, dazed and confused, sunghoon couldn’t see anything. there was a bright, white light that made his eyes hurt, it took him a few minutes to get used to it. his head hurt, he tried to move his hand to rub his face. he panicked when he realized he was restrained, arms and legs tied to a chair in a painfully full room. he looked around, foolishly trying to see if he could recognize the place. he didn’t. instead, the worryingly number of pictures of himself taped all around the walls made his panic worsen. he was slowly starting to understand the situation. he tried to move his body, get the ropes around him to losen, but it seemed impossible. they were too tight, the knots were tied too well.
suddenly the door opened.
he stopped doing whatever he was doing right away, didn't even blink, wouldn't breathe unless it would lead to his death.
you payed him no mind, went straight to your desk, put a glass of water on it. sunghoon could tell that you were handling something, your attention completely caught up in what you had in your hands, but your back wouldn't let him see clearly. the longer it went on, the worse his anxiety got, becoming something he wasn't sure he could fully understand. all of a sudden, he felt a tightness in his pants.
you approached slowly, too slowly, he couldn't quite make out what you had in your hand, but it was a long, pointy object. he closed his eyes as soon as your fingers settled on his jaw. with your thumb, you forced his mouth open. sunghoon was ready for the worst. and then… mint?
suddenly his mouth was flooded with a simple minty flavor. you were brushing his teeth. he wanted to say something, but the foreign object in his mouth made it difficult to talk, and he was too confused to know what to say.
“cigarettes are bad for you, hoonie,” you looked at him, pouting. your eyes big and watery. “you need to take care of your pretty voice,” you set the toothbrush aside and walked away to take the glass of water. “i like it so much, angel, cigarettes are gonna ruin it.” you helped him drink, tilting his face and bringing the glass to his lips. you didn't care about the water that inevitably dripped down his chin and then his neck. in fact, when the glass was empty, you licked him. you licked that exact drop that tickled him as it ran down.
he wanted to move. he was tall and strong, he was sure that with all the time he spent at the gym he was able to get himself free. he could at least say something. protest, tell you to back off. but as your hand started moving down his chest, his dick twitched, bulge fully visible through his gray sweatpants. his mind and body were at two extremes; he was divided. The rational part of him told him to rebel, to fight, but the animal part just wanted to keep feeling the sweet sensation of your hands moving on his body. he hated how compliant he was, he didn’t utter a single word, since he woke up, since you entered the room. he hated how he was behaving, like a fucking dog.
you sat on his lap and he looked at you wide eyed, shocked maybe, as you started rolling your hips on him. “damn, angel.” your hand went straight to his clothed cock. “you’re so big and hard…” he moaned, your gentle movements and tight grip on him made him lose his integrity. you bit your lips as you smiled. “do it again, baby. i wanna hear your voice again.”
your hips kept shifting, his body beneath you was like slime, perfectly adapting to your movements. sunghoon was hoping you would soon free him from the prison of his boxers. your moans were high pitched, he tried to keep his owns down, embarrassed by the whole situation.
you kissed him. it was rough, wet, violent, hungry. like a storm or a fire. it was messy, emotion had gotten the better of you. your panties under your skirt were completely soaked, you sought orgasm in a way you would never reach it. there was plenty of time for you. first, you had only one desire: to see sunghoon come, to see his face twist with pleasure, to hear his voice echo through the room.
“please… please take them off.” he pointed to his pants with his flushed, desperate face. without his hands he couldn't touch himself, couldn’t help himself in any way.
you shook your head. no. it was too soon. “no, angel. you gotta do something for me first.” your voice was broken by your heavy breathing, by the whimpers you let out. “i can do just, just this one thing to help you, baby.”
your hips kept grinding against him, now and then changing direction or intensity. you lifted his shirt, just enough to slip your hand underneath. suddenly, his nipples were hooked between your fingers, twisting them. sunghoon let out a loud, raucous moan, almost a howl.
you just kept going, occasionally faster, occasionally more gently, until you felt his hips jerk forward. sunghoon squeezed his eyes shut and came with a muffled groan. but he wasn't satisfied at all, you could tell by the look on his face.
you giggled. “oh don’t worry angel, my stupid neighbor hasn't complained yet.” you got off off his lap, finally taking off his wet and stained sweatpants and underwear. “we have the whole night ahead,” your hands reached for his flaccid penis. “so many more things to try together…”
Hey, can you do niki (or Sunghoon) smut, in which the female dom fucks the male sub niki (or Sunghoon) giving them punishment for not obeying the female dom and making him cry. Like a really hard smut.
please please please!
pairing: sub!sunghoon x fem!reader
c. warnings: unprotected sex (nuh uh ladies), begging, spanking, cock slapping, overstimulation, dacryphillia, fingering (m receiving), subspace, aftercare
w. count: 1.9k+
a. note: i'm back!! sorry for disappearing hehe n sorry for how long overdue this was aughh i hope this reaches the anon who requested this. nyways, missed you all so much but i've been crazy busy :( hope you guys liked this, feedback is welcome <3 (p.s. i tried to make this like Hard dom but i fear i am js a big softie SIGHH)
"did you have fun being a slut, hmm?" the hard strike of your hand against sunghoon's ass cheek echos around the room, your stare stern as you talk to sunghoon.
"mommy, i wasn't being a slut!" sunghoon whines back at you, he's positioned over your lap, cute round cheeks facing up towards you.
"oh so you just flirt with other people for fun? that's what i've taught you to do?" you bark out back at him, slapping his bottom again, eliciting a whimper from sunghoon. a pretty shade of crimson blossoming on his pale skin from the contact.
your hand gently massages him slightly before another spank meets his ass. his tip continuously leaking out precum all over your lap.
"do you want those ladies to see you spread out like this too?" your hands spread his ass cheeks, as you lean down to spit on his hole which flutters at the sensation. your finger reaching down to prod at his hole slightly, smearing your spit all over his tight entrance.
"n-no only want mommy.." a small smirk makes it's way on your face, your free hand reaching to pull at his soft hair harshly, leaning his head to the side slightly so you can see his face, his red cheeks tear stained.
"mhm, that's right, sweetie. and who does your pretty little cock belong to?" you purr in his ear, the tone of your voice sickeningly sweet, almost condescending. your finger finally pushing into his tight entrance as you wait for his response.
sunghoon doesn't answer you, his brain going blank from the feeling of your finger streching him out slowly, your finger still gentle despite him being punished.
you release the hold on his hair abruptly, his head falling forward onto the mattress, as you give him another harsh spank for his lack of response.
"mommy! b-belongs to mommy!" sunghoon rushes out as more tears cascade down his cheeks, the pleasurable sting on his ass causing sunghoon to cry out loudly.
you nod down at him, the smirk on your face not faltering at the sounds sunghoon lets out. your free hand travels all across his body as the other continues to explore his hole. your thumb and pointer finger catch sunghoon's nipple between them as you pinch the nub, more beautiful sounds leaves sunghoon.
another finger made it's way into sunghoon's entrance, slowly easing into the tight warmth, his hole stretching to accommodate your long slender digits as they reach deeper to find his prostate. in less than a minute, sunghoon let out a small whine as his hips subconsciously push up against your fingers, evident that you have found his sweet spot. you smile down at the cute ministration, allowing him to do as he pleases, your fingers only merely massaging up against his prostate slightly to encourage sunghoon further.
sunghoon lets out another sweet whine at your now lack of movement, his glassy teary eyes look back up at you as he bats his lashes at you as one of his hands reach behind him to get hold of your wrist, attempting to get you to thrust your fingers into him once again.
“mommy, please?” sunghoon’s sweet voice purrs out once again.
“go on, fuck yourself on my fingers, slut.”
a small complaining huff left sunghoon as his hand on your wrist remained, moving your hand back as his hips moved. the movement from his hips and your fingers prodding deeper into his hole, continuously stimulating his prostate. more tears spilt down his flushed cheeks as his pace increased, feeling the knot in his abdomen tightening. you take notice of his full cock hanging heavily between his legs, precum dribbling down onto your lap before your gentle fingers take hold of it.
“are you going to cum soon, baby?” your sweet honeyed voice reached his ears, a spark contrast to your harsh tones earlier, edging him closer to his orgasm.
sunghoon responds with a soft, “yes, mommy.”
your hand strokes his long member in pace with his fast thrusts, his sticky cum coating your fingers, making the slide even more pleasurable for him. your pointer finger toying with his slit, swiping away his precum only for more to drip down onto your lap.
with your hand working on his cock, alongside your fingers which continuously abused his prostate, sunghoon’s orgasm was approaching quickly. you noticed the tell tale signs, with sunghoon’s heavy breathing, his mouth hung open as he whimpered and whined, and how his cock twitched often.
“i’m going to cum!” sunghoon rushed out to warn you.
you tutted at his words, “is that how you ask?”
another drawn out whine came from sunghoon, “please mommy, can i cum please?”
a grin graced your features as you hear the evident desperation in his tone. “hm, sluts don’t get to cum,” your hand sped up it’s motion on his aching member.
a pained cry left sunghoon as he held back the urge to release all over your hand. “no, no, please mommy! i can’t. i can’t-“ he cut himself off with a whimper. your smile widened as you saw big full tears cascade down sunghoon’s red cheeks as he tried his best to obey you.
“yes, you can.” your tone gentle in comparison to your actions.
sunghoon quickly shook his head, “no! can’t, please mommy, please!”
“hold it, slut.” you told sunghoon, sternly.
sunghoon’s breathes in and catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries his best to be a good boy for you, not wanting to push you more. his hips slowing their movement as he tries his best to lessen his urge to cum.
just as he thought he had controlled himself, unexpectedly you thrust your hand into him, adding in another finger to hit right into his sweet spot again. his hole was feeling the fullness and a hearty moan was ripped right out of him and he lost the control he had just gained.
"no, no, no!" sunghoon cried out as he spurted out his cum all over your fingers that were working on his cock, your hand stroked him all through his orgasm.
you pulled out your fingers gently, watching as his hole fluttered slightly at the loss of being full before letting go of his now limp cock too.
immediately, sunghoon shakily turned around and properly planted himself on your lap, his arms reaching out for you. you quickly opened your arms to catch his embrace as he let out small cries, his head hiding in the crook of your neck, you quickly shush his cries gently as your hands ran over the expense of his back.
"i'm sorry, mommy! please punish me."
sunghoon was always a big crier in bed but this was unexpected, you pulled him away softly from where he was latched onto you tightly and immediately took notice of his slightly clouded gaze. oh, your poor boy was in subspace.
your fingers brushed the hair out of his face, "shh it's okay, baby, mommy isn't going to punish you."
he quickly shook his head at your response, "no! i want you to punish me, please? i was a bad boy, mommy."
you let out a sigh because, how could you say punish him now with how cute he was? with one last look at sunghoon to make sure he was sure of it, you guided him to lie down.
sunghoon's member, though sensitive from his previous orgasm, still red and erect, rested heavily against his abdomen, looking for attention once again at the thought of a punishment. a hard strike from your hand came in contact with his aching cock which bobbed at the impact, eliciting a moan from sunghoon.
"are you such a dumb fucking slut, huh? you can't control yourself," another slap to his member. your hand reached to fondle with his heavy balls. sunghoon's little whimper sent a wave of arousal straight down to your already wet core.
you quickly pull off your now soaked panties, sunghoon's eyes trained on your movements, pupils dilating as he takes in your wetness causing his dick to twitch.
"you're such a pathetic slut, i don't even know if you deserve mommy's pussy," at that, a whine was rushed out of sunghoon as he fumbled over his words, but he was too deep into subspace to form proper sentences.
"aww, mommy's dumb little slut can't speak either," you move to straddle sunghoon, taking hold of his erection you run it over your pussy, the head catching slightly into your hole before sliding it up back to toy with your clit, mixing both your juices together.
getting too impatient yourself, your tight pussy finally sinks down onto his cock. the prominent veins rubbing up against your sticky walls. you head falls back slightly, as you both let out moans as you start bouncing on him.
sunghoon was so big and filled up your tight hole so well, your hands balanced themselves perfectly on his toned chest as you quicken your pace.
sunghoon's head lolled back as your warm walls enveloped every inch of his member, his pretty eyes fluttering close every so often as all he could do was let out pitiful moans.
you reached for his hand, resting it on the prominent bulge on your stomach as you moved on him, the sight was driving him closer to his release, however, as he was still so lost in ecstasy he could only mumble out a small plea.
"cum whenever you want, slut," immediately after, you could feel his warm cum filling up every inch of your insides until it was spilling out of your pussy, riding him through his orgasm. however, your movements never halted.
sunghoon let out another cry as you continued to move on spent out member.
"m-mommy hurts," sunghoon whimpered.
"good."
your pace only sped up from there as he cried out to you, his hand reaching for yours to interlock with. your own release was fast approaching as sunghoon's tears only fueled it further.
your pussy clenched around sunghoon's cock tightly as you let out a moan, you finally reached your high, cum spilling out of you and coating his thick cock, unexpectedly a heavy gush of liquid spurted out of your hole too. both you and sunghoon were surprised when you squirted all over sunghoon.
how beautiful you looked and the way you squirted was too much for sunghoon, he came for a third time, your pussy milking him dry as he shot his seed deep into you. sunghoon cried out from the sensitivity of his cock, his hand reaching up for you to stop.
understanding what he needs, you pulled off of him gently. as you were getting up to reach for a towel beside your bed to clean him and the mess between your legs up, you could hear a small whimper from him.
"shh, it's okay, baby. i'll be right back,"
it wasn't often that sunghoon got into subspace but when he did it was the absolute cutest thing ever, but you had to be careful he didn't go through subdrop.
as you got the towel, you came back to the bed to see sunghoon's wide eyes searching for yours, waiting for you to come back. quickly, you cleaned the both of you up before getting into bed with him, sunghoon immediately cuddling up into you.
your hands stroked his sweaty hair back gently before placing a kiss on his forehead (and another on his lips, to his demand).
as his eyes drooped about to fall asleep, he whispered out, "i i love you, mommy."
pairing ᝰ.ᐟ idol! park sunghoon x 8th member reader
warnings ᝰ.ᐟ p in v, unprotected sex, dry humping, sub hoon, somnophilia (?), etc.
natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.
sunghoon couldn't take it anymore. the dream he just had—hot, vivid, and so undeniably real—left him breathless, his body still reeling from the lingering sensations. the way your body felt beneath him in that dream, the way your lips parted as you moaned his name—it was too much. he woke up hard, painfully so, his cock straining against the fabric of his sweatpants, aching for any kind of relief.
he swallowed thickly, his body running on impulse as he quietly pushed his sheets aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. the dorm was silent, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioning. he knew this was wrong, knew he shouldn't, but the need gnawed at him, overpowering any rational thought.
each step he took down the dimly lit hallway felt heavier, his pulse hammering in his ears. he reached your door, hesitating only for a second before carefully pushing it open, making sure not to make a sound. and there you were—laying on your bed, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.
your body was sprawled across the mattress, rising and falling with soft, steady breaths. the thin straps of your bra barely clung to your shoulders, the fabric hugging the curves of your chest in a way that made his throat go dry. those skimpy little shorts did nothing to hide the smooth skin of your thighs, and he caught himself staring, his fingers twitching at his sides.
anyone would say it was an inappropriate choice of clothing, especially considering you were the only woman in an all-boy band, but you didn’t seem to care. you never did. and fuck, that only made you even more irresistible to him.
his breath hitched as his eyes raked over your figure, his body reacting instantly. his cock throbbed against the confines of his sweatpants, straining as if it had a mind of its own. he bit his lip, exhaling shakily as his self-control started to slip through his fingers.
god, how was he supposed to hold himself back when you were right there, looking like a goddamn dream?
he moved towards the bed with slow, measured steps, his heart hammering in his chest as the dim glow of the moonlight cast a soft sheen over your sleeping form. his hands trembled slightly as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down his legs until they pooled silently at his feet. now, only his boxers remained, the thin fabric barely doing anything to conceal just how painfully hard he was.
his breath hitched as he crouched down beside the bed, his heated palms hovering over your exposed thighs before finally making contact. the contrast between his warmth and your cool skin sent a shiver up his spine, his fingers instinctively pressing into the soft flesh. he spread your legs just a little more, the motion deliberate yet cautious, as if he were afraid of waking you—though the thrill of that possibility only made him throb even harder.
he carefully climbed over you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he caged you beneath him. his face hovered mere inches from yours, close enough for him to feel the soft puffs of your breath against his lips. a quiet, needy whine escaped him before he could stop it, the sheer proximity making his restraint waver.
his hips moved on their own, grinding against your clothed cunt in a slow, desperate rut. even through the layers of fabric, the friction was electric, the heat pooling between you making his entire body tense. his cock twitched violently against the tight confines of his boxer briefs, a strangled groan caught in his throat as he bit down on his lip to muffle it.
fuck, it felt too good. the pressure, the warmth, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours—it was intoxicating. he tried to stay still, tried to hold back, but the sensation was overwhelming. he wanted more. he wanted to feel every inch of you, to press himself against your bare skin, to make that dream he had—so vivid, so fucking good—a reality.
"fuck… y/n…" he whimpered, voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with so much desperation it sent a shiver down his spine. his hips moved faster, the friction between his aching cock and your clothed heat making his head spin. his breath came out in shaky, uneven pants, his body practically trembling above you.
his eyes were squeezed shut, brows knitted together in pure bliss, his parted lips releasing soft, needy gasps. he’d touched himself countless times to the thought of you—late at night, hand wrapped tight around his cock, imagining the way you’d feel beneath him. but this… actually feeling the warmth of your cunt, even through the barrier of thin fabric, ignited something raw, something almost primal within him.
his fingers dug into your hips as he rolled his own against you, desperate for more. the sensation was unlike anything he’d ever felt before—hot, suffocating, overwhelming in the best way possible. his cock twitched uncontrollably in his boxers, every movement sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body, making him whimper with every drag of his hips.
beneath him, your body shifted, a quiet noise escaping your lips as you stirred from your sleep. your legs twitched, your hips shifting against his, and the unintentional movement sent another sharp wave of pleasure straight to his core. his breath hitched, his grinding growing sloppier, more erratic.
your eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep, only to be met with the sight of sunghoon hovering over you—his flushed face twisted in pleasure, his body pressed so tightly against yours, his needy whines filling the silence of the room. even as your groggy mind tried to make sense of the situation, he didn’t stop. he couldn’t.
"y/n…" he moaned again, voice wrecked with desperation, his hips rutting against you like he was already too far gone to stop.
your half-lidded eyes stayed locked on him, watching every little expression that flickered across his face—his furrowed brows, his parted lips, the way his breath came out in shallow, needy gasps. he looked completely lost in the pleasure, his body moving on pure instinct as he continued to grind himself against your clothed cunt, each roll of his hips more desperate than the last.
a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you reached up, your fingers trailing along his flushed skin before pulling him closer. your lips ghosted over his neck, barely brushing against the sensitive skin before you pressed soft, lingering kisses there. his body tensed instantly, a sharp gasp leaving his mouth, but you didn’t stop. you kissed, licked, and nibbled, letting your teeth scrape teasingly against his heated flesh, feeling the way his body shuddered beneath your touch.
"fuck, y/n…" he choked out, voice breaking into a high-pitched whine. his hands clutched onto your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself, but it was useless. the moment your lips latched onto that sweet spot near his collarbone, he let out a shaky moan, his hips bucking against you with even more urgency.
"please… please give me more…" he whimpered, his voice drenched in desperation, in need. his moans were getting louder, more broken, and it only made you more eager to see just how far you could push him.
you hummed against his skin, pulling back just enough to glance at his wrecked expression—his pretty eyes glazed over, his lips trembling as he swallowed down another needy sound. you dragged your nails slowly down his back, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch, before leaning in close again.
"baby… you’re so sensitive," you murmured, amusement laced in your tone. your words sent a visible shiver down his spine, a soft whimper slipping past his lips as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.
he was falling apart in your hands, completely at your mercy, and you weren’t about to stop now.
you couldn’t take it anymore. the way sunghoon kept grinding against you, his desperate, needy whimpers filling the air, had your pussy completely soaked, your arousal seeping through the thin fabric of your underwear. every rut of his hips, every twitch of his cock against your clothed heat sent another wave of need surging through your body, making it impossible to hold back any longer.
without a second thought, your hands moved with urgency, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down in one swift motion. his cock sprang free, thick and leaking, twitching at the sudden exposure. he let out a sharp gasp, his breath hitching when the cool air met his flushed skin. without wasting any time, you slid your own shorts down, tossing them aside as you straddled his lap.
his eyes widened slightly as you pushed him back onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress as he let out soft, breathless gasps. his flushed chest rose and fell rapidly, his muscles tensing beneath you. the anticipation in his gaze was unmistakable, his pupils blown wide with need as he watched you wrap your fingers around his cock.
"fuck…" he whimpered, his head falling back against the pillows. his cock twitched violently in your grip, hot and throbbing in your palm as you stroked him slowly, teasingly. his whole body shuddered at the contact, his thighs tensing as he fought to keep his hips still.
"y/n, please…" he whined, his voice breaking, barely able to keep his eyes open. he was already falling apart, the way your hand worked over his length making him feel like he could lose it at any second.
you smirked, tightening your grip slightly as you pumped him with ease, watching the way his abs tensed with every stroke. "so fucking hard, huh?" you teased, your voice dripping with amusement.
he could only nod frantically, words completely failing him. his lips parted, his breath coming out in shallow, desperate pants as his fingers gripped the sheets beneath him.
"y/n… y/n, please—ahhh!" he nearly screamed as you slammed yourself down onto his cock, fully sheathing him in one swift motion.
his body jolted beneath you, his back arching off the bed as a deep, guttural moan ripped from his throat. your walls clenched around him so perfectly, so tight and warm that it made his head spin. his hands flew to your waist, gripping onto you for dear life as he struggled to keep himself together.
"y/n… please—c-can i c-cum?" he whined, voice trembling as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his whole body shaking beneath you.
"already?" you taunted, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you kept your movements slow, torturously slow, rolling your hips over his cock in a way that had him trembling beneath you. your hands found their way to the back of his nape, fingers threading through his damp hair before tugging just hard enough to make him gasp.
"hold it," you ordered, your voice firm yet teasing, the authority in your tone making his cock twitch inside you. without another word, you picked up your pace, bouncing on him faster, harder, the lewd sound of your bodies meeting filling the room.
"s-shit… y/n…" he whimpered, his voice cracking as his grip on your waist tightened, fingertips pressing bruises into your skin. his head fell back against the pillow, jaw slack, eyes glassy with desperation. "uh—fuck, no… please…" his words were slurred, broken by ragged moans as he fought to hold himself back, his body betraying him with every needy jerk of his hips.
your walls clenched around him without mercy, squeezing him so deliciously tight that he nearly sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure. he was drowning in the sensation, in the way your heat wrapped around him, in the way you took him so perfectly—like you were made to milk him dry.
the bedroom was filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, your slick coating his cock and making a mess between your thighs. mixed with that were the unrestrained whines and desperate moans spilling from sunghoon’s lips, his voice getting higher, more broken with every bounce of your hips. neither of you cared if the others in the dorm heard—hell, at this point, he was too far gone to even think about anything but you.
"fuck, y/n—please… i can't take it… it’s too much!" he cried out, his body trembling violently beneath you, his cock pulsing inside your heat as he teetered on the edge of release. his fingers dug into your skin, his thighs quivering, his eyes rolling back as he let out a strangled sob of pure pleasure.
"is this what you wanted, baby?" you whispered, voice dripping with teasing sweetness, though even you were struggling to keep it steady. your eyes fluttered shut, your breath hitching as sunghoon drove himself deeper into you, filling you so perfectly it had your head spinning. every thrust was sharp, precise, and desperate, like he was chasing something he could never quite reach.
his whines were relentless, high-pitched and needy, mixing with the deep, broken moans that spilled from his parted lips. fuck, you loved it—the way he sounded so utterly wrecked, the way his body trembled beneath you, the way he fell apart so easily just from being inside you.
but more than anything, you loved the way he looked right now. his pretty eyes were glassy, unfocused, filled with nothing but pure, unfiltered pleasure. his swollen lips quivered with every gasp, every plea, every broken moan that escaped him. and those tears—hot, glistening streaks trailing down his flushed cheeks, slipping down his jaw as his expression twisted in overwhelming bliss.
you reached out, your thumb gently brushing over his damp cheek, catching a tear before pressing your lips to the spot. "you're so fucking good, baby," you praised, your voice a breathy moan against his skin.
his whole body shuddered beneath you at your words, his hands gripping onto your waist as if he’d fall apart completely without you holding him together. "y-y/n…" he whimpered, his voice cracking, his hips stuttering as he tried to keep up with you.
he was gone—completely lost in you, drowning in the way you felt, the way you praised him, the way you took control and ruined him so perfectly.
"fuck, baby… i'm close…" you moaned, your voice breathless and dripping with need as you rode him harder, faster, chasing that intoxicating high. every bounce of your hips had his cock slamming deep into you, the tip kissing that perfect spot over and over again, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. it was heaven—the way he filled you up so completely, stretching you just right, making you feel so fucking good.
sunghoon was a mess beneath you, his body trembling, his grip on your waist tightening as his moans grew more desperate. "fuck! y/n… please, please—" he whimpered, his voice breaking into a cry as his hands dug into your skin, his strength betraying him as he took control for just a moment.
his arms flexed as he lifted you effortlessly, only to slam you back down onto his cock, making you gasp at the sudden intensity. the new angle had him hitting even deeper, his cock dragging along your walls so perfectly it had your vision going white for a second.
he couldn’t take it anymore. the way your walls clenched around him, the way you felt so fucking tight, the way you kept moaning his name—it was all too much. his body tensed beneath you, his back arching off the bed as his hips stuttered in frantic, erratic thrusts.
"ahh—y/n! fuck—!" he cried out, his voice wrecked as he spilled into you, thick, hot ropes of cum filling you up completely. his whole body shook violently, his cock twitching inside you, buried deep as he rode out his orgasm.
the feeling of him throbbing inside you, of his warmth spreading, pushed you right over the edge. your body locked up, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat as pleasure crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming.
"fuck—sunghoon!" you moaned out as your release hit, your body trembling, your legs shaking as you squirted all over him, your slick drenching his lower stomach, his thighs, his still-hard cock.
he whimpered beneath you, overwhelmed, overstimulated, but completely and utterly addicted to the way you felt.
The only sound echoing in the shared apartment is the faint buzz of your phone on the kitchen counter and the soft, rhythmic panting filtering through the crack of Sunghoon’s door.
You were just getting water. Just water.
And yet here you are.
Frozen. In the hallway. Barefoot in his oversized shirt because laundry day got delayed, staring at the way his door is just barely ajar.
You should’ve walked past. You should’ve respected boundaries.
But the whimper that escapes from inside?
You blink. Slowly.
“Fuck—oh my god,” his voice stutters, low and raspy. “F-fuck, Y/N…”
Your name.
Your. Name.
You inhale sharply, but it doesn’t help—your thighs press together instinctively, and your fingers curl against the cold glass of the water you were holding like it’ll ground you. But it won’t. Not with the image now forming behind your eyelids. Sunghoon. One hand gripping his phone, the other likely between his legs. Probably leaking and messy and looking so desperate it’d be laughable if you weren’t imagining pressing your foot against his chest while he begged.
It’s not the first time you’ve suspected something. He’s always too nervous around you. Always lingering in your laundry loads. Always stuttering when you wear those old shorts. You’d catch him sneaking glances, acting like you were some goddess and he was just your awkward little servant.
But this? Hearing him moan your name while gooning out alone in his room?
You should walk away.
You don’t.
You push the door open instead.
His eyes snap up in a panic, his phone slipping from his hand mid-stroke. He’s a wreck— sweats pulled all the way down only wearing a shirt on , flushed skin glowing in the dim glow of his laptop screen. And of course, your Twitter page is open. One of your thirst traps playing on loop. Low volume, but not low enough to hide.
“Y/N—!” he gasps, scrambling, trying to cover himself but making it worse because he’s still so obviously hard, cock twitching as if it knows you’re watching.
You blink slowly, leaning against the frame. “You forgot to lock your door.”
His mouth opens. Nothing comes out. His face burns red. He’s petrified.
“Or maybe you didn’t want to.” You step forward. “Maybe you wanted me to see you like this. All fucked out over nothing. Over me.”
Sunghoon lets out a helpless little sound, hand still halfway frozen between covering himself and not wanting to lose the contact.
“You really are such a loser, Hoon,” you coo. “Jerking off to my videos? In our apartment?”
He nods.
He fucking nods.
“I can’t help it,” he rasps, barely audible. “You always look so—fuck, I didn’t mean for you to hear—I just—I was gonna clean up, I swear—”
You reach out and curl your fingers under his jaw, forcing him to look up.
“You really want to come for me that bad?” you whisper. “Then keep your hands off yourself. And let me watch you fall apart properly.”
The way he whines at that, eyes fluttering, cock throbbing untouched?
Yeah.
Your loser gooner roommate’s never going to recover from this.
You haven’t even said another word before Sunghoon’s already halfway falling apart again.
He’s still trembling — half-naked, sitting pathetically at the edge of his bed like a dog caught misbehaving. Your phone is in his lap, your video still playing, but his eyes won’t leave you now. Like you're the real thing. Like you’re his goddess incarnate.
You slide closer, push his laptop off the bed without a care, and straddle his thigh. You feel him tense — his hands twitch like he wants to grab you, but he’s too scared to move.
“You’re such a mess,” you whisper, tilting his chin up. “Wanna be useful for once, baby boy?”
His throat bobs. “Y-Yes. Anything.”
“Good.” You lean in, breath hot in his ear. “Then get on your knees.”
He drops so fast you almost laugh. Not even a second of hesitation. He’s already settling between your legs as you recline back on his bed, spreading them slowly, letting him see the wet patch soaking through your panties.
His eyes widen. Lips part.
“Oh my god,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “I made you wet?”
“You’ve been making me wet,” you admit, tugging his hair. “You’re just too much of a clueless little loser to do anything about it. Always walking around with that hard-on, thinking I didn’t notice?”
He whimpers. Literally whimpers.
But you don’t wait for him to get shy. You hook your thumbs under your panties and pull them to the side, baring yourself right in front of his face.
“Go ahead,” you purr. “Use that mouth. Let me see if you’re good for more than just jerking off to my voice.”
Sunghoon dives in like he’s been starved.
And god — he’s so eager. All tongue, all sloppiness, mouthing at you with zero rhythm but so much heart. You almost laugh again when he moans into you like your pussy is the holy grail. And honestly? The way your hips twitch? Maybe it is.
“God, you’re obsessed,” you groan, grinding against his mouth. “Do you even know what you’re doing or are you just that fucking desperate?”
But Sunghoon doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets worse — hungrier, messier, hands grabbing at your thighs like you’ll float away if he lets go. He’s making the kind of sounds you should be making. Like he’s the one getting off from this.
He probably is.
When you glance down, he’s rutting his hips into the bed, fully hard again, untouched. You tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his head back, slick coating his lips, chin dripping, eyes glazed over.
“Look at you,” you smirk. “Fucking gone.”
“I can’t stop,” he pants. “You taste so—fuck, please let me finish. I can make you cum, I swear—”
“Oh? You think you earned it?”
He nods wildly, tongue flicking out as if he's hoping you'll drag him back in.
So you do.
And this time, he figures it out — tongue flattening just right, sucking at your clit like he’s trying to memorize it. When you moan and grab the back of his head tighter, he whines into you, bucking against the bed like he’s close just from this.
“God—Sunghoon—don’t stop—”
He doesn’t. Can’t.
You cum on his face with a sharp gasp, legs trembling around his ears, and he just stays there — moaning, still licking, worshipping like your pleasure is the only thing he exists for.
And when your hips twitch from overstimulation and you finally tug him off with a shaky breath, he looks up at you like he’s been reborn. Panting. Rock hard. Flushed and so stupidly in love with you it hurts.
“You came, right?” he says breathlessly. “Was I… Did I do good?”
You pause, eyeing the mess between his legs, your slick still on his lips.
Then you smile.
“Better than your hand, loser.”
You haven’t even caught your breath yet.
Your thighs are still trembling, still sensitive, and Sunghoon’s face is still between them, lips swollen, chin soaked. His eyes are dazed and glassy — drunk off your taste, off the sounds you made, off the fact that he was the one to pull those sounds out of you.
He looks like he’s floating.
You tug him up by the collar of his shirt — the only thing he’s still wearing — and he comes willingly, breath ragged, eyes wide.
You kiss him.
You shouldn’t. It’s too much. It blurs the line between filthy and… real.
But the moment your lips crash against his, it’s over. He melts into it, mouth moving sloppily against yours, tongue eager and messy and needy. He moans into your mouth like he forgot he just made you cum with his tongue.
You taste yourself on his lips. He doesn’t care. He kisses like he’s grateful. Like he never thought you’d let him this close.
“Fuck,” you whisper into the kiss. “You’re so fucking gone.”
Sunghoon nods frantically, lips brushing yours, voice breathy. “I—I’ve never—no one’s ever tasted like you. No one’s ever let me—”
You shut him up with another kiss. He sighs into it.
It’s filthy. Sloppy. Your spit is on his chin, his on your lips, your slick still drying on his cheeks and neck. His hands tremble as they rest on your hips like he’s afraid to grip too tight, like he still thinks this is a dream he’ll wake up from.
And god — the way he ruts up against your thigh, still hard, untouched — it’s almost adorable.
“Still hard?” you murmur against his mouth. “You’re such a little gooner. All I did was let you taste me and you’re ready to blow again.”
“Can’t help it,” he groans. “I think about you all the time. Every day. You walk around in your towel and it’s over. I—I almost came in the laundry room once just smelling your shampoo.”
You let out a soft, delighted laugh. “You’re sick.”
He nods like it’s a compliment. “Only for you.”
And maybe it is.
You push him back onto the bed with a firm hand, and he falls flat on his back with a breathless “oof”—and his cock jumps at the sound.
“Stay,” you command.
Sunghoon obeys immediately, hands by his sides, chest rising and falling with every labored breath. You climb over him, hovering above his twitching cock — flushed, leaking, desperate for any kind of friction.
“Been saving this for me?” you ask, dragging a finger down his stomach, nails grazing lightly. “Bet you could’ve cum from just eating me out if I let you.”
He whines. “I almost did. I didn’t even—fuck, please. Please ride me.”
You cock your head. “That what you want, baby?”
“Yes—yes—I need it, I need you so bad—”
You pull off your shirt in one smooth motion and the sound he makes is feral. He’s practically vibrating beneath you. Like his skin’s too tight for his body.
You sink down slowly onto his cock, watching his face contort — brows scrunching, mouth dropping open, the sweetest, most broken moan spilling out of him. His hands fly to your waist but hesitate again, unsure.
“Touch me,” you breathe. “Hold me while I fuck you.”
And he does. Oh, he does. His grip is reverent, tight like he’s holding the sun in his lap and doesn’t want it to burn him. You start to move — slow, teasing, letting him feel every inch of you with every roll of your hips.
Sunghoon is loud. Whining your name. Gasping like he’s overwhelmed.
“You fit so good,” he groans, hips bucking without meaning to. “Tighter than I imagined—fuck—I’m sorry—”
“You imagined this?”
“Every night,” he confesses through a breathless moan. “After you shower, when you say goodnight in those shorts. I fuck my hand so hard thinking about your pussy wrapped around me—fuck—I even used your towel once—”
You laugh, wicked and warm. “You really are disgusting.”
“I know,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry—I’m so fucking obsessed with you—”
You ride him harder.
His back arches, head pressed into the mattress, and he makes this pitiful, high-pitched noise as your pace increases — your slick dripping down to his thighs, his hands clawing at your skin.
“Gonna cum,” he sobs. “I-I can’t—I’m gonna cum so fast, I’m sorry—please don’t stop—”
“Don’t,” you growl, gripping his face. “You’ll cum when I say.”
“Y-Yes—yes, please—just tell me when—”
He looks ruined. Pretty and red and trembling beneath you. It’s not just sex — it’s worship. He looks at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. Like he can’t believe this is real.
You lean in, kissing him again — messy and uncoordinated, teeth clashing, his whimpers swallowed by your lips.
“I want you to cum inside me, loser,” you whisper darkly into his mouth. “Wanna feel how full you can make me. Think you can do that for me?”
He sobs — actually sobs — and then cries out, “Yes, yes, please, please—fuck—I’m cumming—!”
And he does. Hard.
It hits him like a freight train — his entire body jolting as he empties into you, gasping your name, pulling you close like you’re air. He holds you like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t.
You fuck him through it. Ride it out until he’s twitching and oversensitive, until he’s begging through whimpers, tears in his eyes.
“I can’t—I can’t—it’s too much—”
You finally slow, leaning down to kiss his damp cheek, his jaw, whispering softly.
“You did so good for me, Hoonie,” you murmur, brushing sweaty strands from his forehead. “My good little gooner.”
He smiles weakly, eyes fluttering.
And then?
He passes out. Fully wrecked. Totally blissed out. Still twitching inside you.
The sun is barely up.
Your thighs ache in the best way. Your neck is marked, your core is still dripping from what happened last night — and Sunghoon?
Sunghoon is snoring quietly. Dead to the world. One arm thrown lazily over your waist, face pressed against your chest like you’re a body pillow he clung to in his dreams.
You should feel awkward. Or guilty. Or something.
Instead, you just watch him.
There’s a little bit of drool dried at the corner of his mouth. His hair is a mess, and he smells like you — your sweat, your slick, your shampoo.
You slowly shift, brushing your thigh between his legs.
He twitches.
Hard.
Still hard.
You grin.
Sunghoon stirs, nose nuzzling your skin, a low groan escaping his lips before his eyes crack open. He blinks blearily at your chest, and then—slowly—realizes you’re still here. Naked. In his bed. Tangled with him.
And his morning wood is pressed right against your thigh.
“Morning, baby,” you whisper sweetly, brushing hair from his eyes.
He flushes deep red. “Oh my god. I didn’t dream that, did I?”
“Nope.” You kiss his nose. “You came so hard you passed out. It was adorable.”
He groans, burying his face in your neck. “Kill me.”
You laugh softly, running your nails down his back. “Why would I kill my favorite toy?”
Sunghoon’s whole body shudders at that. You feel his cock jump.
“You’re evil,” he whispers.
“And you love it,” you counter.
He doesn’t deny it.
You roll slightly, nudging your hips just enough to feel him twitch again.
Sunghoon swallows, cheeks flushed, eyes flicking to your lips. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna embarrass myself.”
“You already did. Last night. Multiple times.”
He groans again, hiding under the blanket like it’ll erase the memory of his whining and sobbing into your mouth while you rode him senseless.
“…I liked it,” he says after a beat. Voice soft. “All of it. Even when you called me a pathetic little gooner.”
You smirk. “Because you are.”
He blinks. Hesitates. Then — with the shakiest burst of confidence — rolls over you, pinning your wrists. It would be hot… if he didn’t immediately look panicked like he’s not sure if he has permission.
“…Sunghoon.”
“Yeah?” he whispers, already nervous.
“You think you’re gonna take control now?”
He bites his lip. “I just thought—maybe—I could try?”
You look at his arms trembling, his cock twitching against your thigh like he’s overwhelmed just from being on top. He’s so pretty. So eager. So doomed.
You pull one hand free easily and cup the back of his neck, dragging him down into a kiss.
It’s slow, hot — tongue and teeth, his hips jerking without rhythm. And then you roll your hips up just once — grinding your slick against his length — and he whimpers right into your mouth.
That’s all it takes.
He collapses back into submission, lips trailing down to your jaw as you whisper, “You really thought I’d let you flip this on me?”
“I—I just…” He sighs. “I wanted to make you feel good.”
“You did,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding up against him again. “But you do that better when you’re whining under me.”
Sunghoon lets out a helpless sound as you push him back, reversing your positions again until you’re on top. His eyes flutter, chest rising fast.
“Round two?” you murmur, guiding him to your entrance.
He nods so fast it’s almost dizzying. “Yes. Please. Ride me again. I’ll be good—better—I’ll last this time, I swear—”
You sink down on him in one smooth motion, and his sentence dissolves into a cry.
“Fuck—! I’m gonna—!”
You put a hand over his mouth.
“Don’t even think about cumming until I say so, loser.”
His eyes roll back.
You’re not letting him out of that bed until the sun’s fully up.
You sink onto him in one smooth, claiming motion — his cock stretching you again, thick and warm, filling you so perfectly you can’t help the soft gasp that escapes your lips.
Underneath you, Sunghoon looks like he’s about to cry.
His fingers dig into the sheets, arms trembling as he fights the urge to buck into you, to chase that pleasure like the pathetic little addict he is. His mouth falls open — no words, no sounds, just wide eyes and flushed cheeks and one trembling breath after another.
You’re not even moving yet.
“Still sensitive?” you whisper, dragging your nails up his stomach.
“Y-Yeah,” he pants. “Too much—you're too warm, I—I’m gonna—”
You press your palm to his chest, steadying him. “No, you’re not.”
He nods quickly — like a good boy — biting down on his lip hard enough to leave a mark.
You grind down, slow and deep, circling your hips just once.
Sunghoon sobs.
“Fucking hell—” he gasps. “Why does it feel better this time—?”
You lean in, your chest brushing his, lips at his ear. “Because you’re pussy drunk , baby.”
He whimpers.
“Because your loser brain is short-circuiting. Can’t even think straight. Just lying here like a pretty little toy for me to fuck.”
His hands fly to your hips, but you grab both wrists and pin them down.
“I didn’t say you could touch me.”
“I-I’m sorry—!”
You roll your hips again, slow and deliberate, your pussy gripping him tight — dragging over every sensitive nerve inside him. His head throws back against the pillow, a choked moan tumbling out, and his toes curl against the sheets.
“You said you’d last,” you purr. “So show me, Hoonie.”
You begin to ride him — slow at first, deep, every bounce designed to drive him insane. He’s shaking. Trying to stay quiet. Trying so hard to obey you even though he’s unraveling.
Your hands press to his chest, and you can feel how hard his heart is racing.
“You can’t handle this, can you?” you ask sweetly. “This pussy’s too good for your pathetic little brain.”
His whole body shudders.
“I c-can!” he moans. “I swear, I—I can take it—please, just don’t stop—please—”
You ride him harder.
The sound of skin against skin fills the room — slick and obscene and perfect — and Sunghoon starts making those noises again. Those pretty, broken, breathless moans like he’s being ruined all over again. His body jerks every time you sink down on him, thighs trembling, abs flexing.
“Fuck—fuck—oh my god—”
“Say it,” you growl, bouncing faster now, grinding your clit against his base with every thrust. “Say you’re my fucktoy.”
“I’m—!” His voice breaks. “I’m your fucktoy—I’m yours—please use me, I wanna make you cum again, I’ll do anything—”
You slam down hard — all the way — and stay there, grinding in tight circles.
And that’s when he starts to cry.
Just a tear or two at first — overwhelmed, overstimulated, emotionally wrecked — and it’s beautiful. He’s flushed and glassy-eyed, his lip trembling, looking up at you like you’re everything.
“Can’t—can’t hold it—”
“Yes, you can.”
“I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”
You slap his cheek — gentle, firm — just once.
His eyes roll back, and he screams as he cums inside you again, loud and messy and raw, his whole body arching up off the bed as he spills everything into you.
Hot.
Heavy.
Way too much.
You ride him through it — overstimulating him, holding him down as he thrashes, twitching under you, gasping your name like a prayer and a curse.
His legs kick weakly, his hips jerking, a sob caught in his throat.
When he finally goes limp — sweaty, flushed, trembling — you slow your movements, grinding slowly just to ride out your own wave.
Your orgasm hits a second later.
Silently, this time. Deep, intense. Your walls fluttering around him, milking every last drop out of his twitching, oversensitive cock.
You collapse onto his chest, panting, skin hot, sweat clinging.
Sunghoon is wrecked.
Tears streaking his temples. Lips parted. Eyes barely open.
He looks so ruined, so small beneath you — but so happy.
You brush his hair back and kiss his damp forehead. “Still with me, baby?”
He swallows thickly. Nods.
“I can’t feel my legs,” he whispers.
You smile.
“You did good.”
He smiles too — soft, dreamy.
Then mumbles, “I think you broke my brain.”
You laugh softly, shifting just enough to tuck yourself against him without pulling off yet. “Good. You won’t need it anymore.”
And like the good, sweet, dumb little loser he is, Sunghoon falls asleep with you still wrapped around him — twitching every few minutes from overstimulation and murmuring your name like it’s carved into him.
When you wake again, the room smells like sex and sweat and still-Sunghoon.
Your legs ache, your body’s sore in all the right places — and wrong ones — and your head is still spinning from the blur of moans and messy kisses and the way he cried when you came again on his cock.
But now it’s morning.
And everything is… still.
You’re tucked into his side, but the space around you is cold — his body heat only lingering on the sheets. For a second, panic flickers in your chest. Did he leave? Did he freak out?
Then—
Soft footsteps.
The bathroom door creaks open.
He stands there in only a towel, hair still dripping, cheeks flushed.
“I started the shower,” he says, voice gentle. “It’s warm now. Thought you’d want one.”
You stare at him for a beat too long, brain catching up.
“…You’re being weird.”
He gives a soft laugh. “I know. Just—come on. Let me take care of you.”
You slide off the bed, muscles stiff, but his arms are there — immediately — wrapping around you like you’re precious. No teasing, no filthy comments. Just warmth.
Just him.
The shower’s fogging up the mirror. He helps you in first, hands on your waist, steadying you when you wince at the water hitting your sore thighs. Then he steps in behind you and pulls the curtain closed.
Silence.
Steam.
You wait for him to say something pervy.
But instead?
He pumps the body wash into his hand and starts lathering it down your back — gentle, focused. Massaging sore muscles, kissing your shoulder softly as he works.
You blink. “Okay. Who are you and what did you do with loser Hoon?”
He grins — shy. Still Hoon. “He’s still here. He’s just… being serious for once.”
“…You sure about that?”
He turns you around — softly — cupping your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. His eyes hold yours, and they don’t wander. Not to your chest. Not between your thighs.
Just… you.
“You didn’t have to be gentle with me last night,” he murmurs. “I wanted to be used. I meant it. But…”
His voice wavers just a little.
“…that’s not all I want from you.”
You blink. Heart thudding louder than the water falling between you.
“I know I’ve been a fucking mess,” he says, laughing at himself softly. “A gooner. A loser. Whimpering over you like a dog in heat. But I swear, that’s not the only me.”
He takes a shaky breath.
“And I know you’ve been in control. I loved that. I love how you take me apart. But I still want to be someone you can lean on, too. Someone who remembers to heat the shower before you step in. Who learns how to actually last more than two minutes just so I can take you apart. Not just your body, but…”
His thumb brushes under your eye.
“…your heart.”
You stare at him, stunned speechless for once.
He takes the chance to finish washing you — gentle hands gliding over your skin, washing between your legs with care and reverence, kissing your knuckles when he reaches for the shampoo. And when the water runs clear and warm again, he finally speaks once more:
“I don’t wanna be your toy forever,” he whispers. “I wanna be your person.”
You blink, breath caught.
“What are we?” he asks, voice raw. “Because I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. Not even close. I don’t want this to just be some hookup that fades when we get awkward or bored. I want more.”
You don’t speak yet. You can’t.
But he keeps going.
“Can I… court you properly?” he asks, voice almost shaking. “Old school. Dumb, maybe. But like—real dates. Home-cooked dinners. Learning your favorite coffee order. Earning it.”
“Sunghoon…”
“If you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. You can still use me. I’ll still be here. But if there’s a part of you that wants more, too…”
You step forward.
And kiss him.
Soft, steady, meaningful.
His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you close like he was holding back until now.
And when you finally part, forehead resting against his, you whisper:
“Then earn it, Park Sunghoon.”
He lets out a breathy laugh, eyes squeezing shut in relief.
[ you thought being a famous model meant you could do whatever you wanted . . . until your new bodyguard park sunghoon decided to be the one to finally tame you !]
WRITING 𓈒 PWP , MINOR DNI , switch hoon , miscommunication , p in v , no protection (dont b silly wrap ur willy!!) , masturbation (f) , oral (f) , foot humping... (hoon..) , knee humping (if u squint) , outdoor sex , LOTS OF JEALOUSY!!!!! , petname : doll , princess , baby , good girl , good doll , good boy , make up sex , hoon lowk turned into a pup by the end , riding , cumming inside , squirting , slight angst , sunghoon turns VERY submissive , hickeys , brusing , sorry heeseung </3 𓏵
wc: 13.3k
a/n . . SET IN HONG KONG. this is my 1.5k followers treat!!!! pls pls PLS enjoy ^^ i worked hard on this </3 this is NOT proof read , m sorry for any mistakes
as the final flash of the camera went off, you let out a heavy sigh. you'd spent the last eight hours on the streets of mong kok in different fabrics of silk and under the red and green lights. and finally, your photoshoot was done.
you shrugged off the last piece of your outfit, the fur boa, and pulled up your usual clubbing attire, a black leather top, and matching skin-tight shorts. your sense of freedom.
which was about 30 seconds.
your bodyguard, park sunghoon, practically teleported from wherever the fuck he was. he was silent the whole day, from the moment you guys arrived on set, to lunch, where he let out low hums as he served you the shumai, untill now, as he stepped into the fading red light, the black suit practically the only shade you could see.
"car's ready to take you back to your apartment," he stated, no 'that was amazing!' or any 'good job out there', it was just a command.
"what? i'm not going home," you said rather angrily, brushing past him towards the makeup station to (aggressively) remove the remnants of your mascara. as you wiped the liquid away, you caught his reflection in the mirror. he hadn't moved a single bit.
"you have a 6am call time for the coastal shoot."
"and i'll be there," you sighed, swivelling around on the stool to face him. "but… first, i'm going to go to chaconne. they're having a like… private event thing for the post shoot."
"that's a three-hour commitment. minimum. and with traffic, that lands you going back at 2am. miss l/n, you need that resting period," he had stated, like he was reading medical documents.
"i dont need that resting period, i need a drink," you argued, flicking the wet wipe into the bin, "i need to be around people who aren't paid to stand around and look menacing," you whined, watching him through squinted eyes.
the expression on his face didn't change; it stayed stoic. however, something in the air did. it tightened.
he studied your face for a while, the way you tilted your chin upwards, the pout hidden in your lips, the outfit leaving little to the imagination. you saw his gaze do that slow sweep he rarely did, from your eyes, to your well-sat chest, to your thighs, and back to your eyes.
he wasnt just looking, he was taking notes. memorising. and it made your skin crawl.
"fine," he said with a graze of his teeth, the word quiet you almost couldn't catch it.
you blinked, a small smile filling your lips. "fine?"
"go." he gestured with his head towards the door, "go to the club."
your mind raced at his words, but the suspicion crept in slowly. "just like that—? you'll really let me go?"
"you're not a prisoner, y/n. you're my client." he sighed, shaking his head as he pulled out his phone from his inner pocket. "my job is to make sure you're safe, not your schedule." his eyes peered at you for a second, scanning over your body once again before looking back down at his phone. "i'll inform the drive of the change."
you didnt know how or why, but the win didn't feel like something victorious, it felt like a dangerous game.
—
as soon as you set foot into chaconne, you were immediately swallowed by the familiar faces, and the smell of baileys hit your nose. for the first hour, you practically blended in. you danced, you laughed, you let the bass of the music block sunghoon's silence entirely.
but, you never forgot he was there.
amidst the grinding bodies, he was practically a statue. he was propped against the bar, a bottle of water in his hand, his eyes tracking you through the crowd. not with any type of jealousy, but it was predatory. everytime you'd glance over at him, he'd already be watching. waiting for any type of signal from you that it was time to leave.
as the second hour started, the mood in the air soured. his gaze became heavier, a weight pressing down the back of your neck. your laughter started to feel forced, every smile feeling forced and awkward under his harsh gaze.
you tried to push the heavy feeling away, to drown it in the noise of shouting and singing. to your fortune, an opportuinity presented itself almost immediately, a fashion designer you vaguely recognised from one of your runways slid into the space beside you, his smile sly yet practised.
"hey," he murmured, leaning in a bit too close, his hot breath fanning your ear. "what's someone as beautiful as you doing here all alone? mannequins should never leave the store."
you internally grimaced at the shit pick up line, forcing out a sheepish laugh as you tilted your head. "maybe this mannequin is looking for a new owner." your face scrunched at your own words.
his eyes shone under the light. "is that so? well, i have an exclusive collection for you. private try-ons only." his hand settled against the small part of your back, a hot touch that you both welcomed, but resented. it was a distraction, something to take your mind off of sunghoon. "i've heard that your shoot today was… brutal. let me buy you a drink, a real one, yeah? something to soothe the nerves."
you were about to reply, to lean into the empty flirtation, when the atmosphere around you had frozen. it felt heavy, the tension strong enough that you could shatter it with a hammer. from the corner of your eye, you had seen sunghoon straighten from his lean at the bar. he didn't move, but his stillness became more… aggressive. his gaze was fixated on the man's hand on your back. as you looked back up you could see the change in his expression. his eyebrow slightly furrowed, the way he bit the inside of his cheek, the way his jaw twitched slightly.
and the designer must've felt it too. his face faltered at the feeling. "you, uhm… you came here with someone..?" he asked, voice losing the smooth edge feeling.
before you could even answer, the man's hand twitched and lifted from your back as if the leather had scorched him. he took a full step back, eyes darting past your shoulder with a sudden wariness and fear. "right— okay, maybe another time," he mumbled, already drifting back into the large sea of bodies.
you stood there, his touch now a ghost around your back. your face had heated up with a slight embarrassment as you looked at sunghoon once again. he hadn't lifted a finger, nor said a word. he'd existed, and that was enough to clear the area around you. the message was undeniably clear: enough.
your mind raced in fury and a hint of alchol. he wasn't trying to protect you, he was trying to restrict you.
and you decided to make it impossible for him, with a stomp of the foot you had pushed deep into the crowd of dancing bodies, deliberatley breaking his line of sight. and for five minutes, you were free. you had let the music take you away, throwing your head back, arms in the air, probably grinding on someones dick.
without a warning, an arm had snaked around your waist, locking you in place.
you yelped, but the sound of the music was too loud for anyone to hear it. before you could even process it, the world was upside down. the floor had vanished, replaced by the dizzy view of people's moving backs and flashing lights. the air had left your lungs, leaving you winded.
he had slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, a hand braced across the back of your thighs as he had owned you.
"what the hell are you doing!?" you shrieked, pounding your fists against the solid muscle of his lower back, to him it felt like you weren't doing anything. "put me down! sunghoon!"
he didnt answer, he had just began to move through the crowd with a dominance that made people stumble out of the in fear. the heat of his body seared through the leather top, his shoulder was pressed uncomfortably against your stomach.
you were mortified, livid, and painfully aware of the sheer power in the way he moved, effortlessly carrying you as if you weighed nothing. "you said fine!" you yelled, voice muffled by the music and his suit jacket, which smelled annoyingly like whiskey and axe bodyspray.
"your 'fine' is over," his voice was a low, rumble that you felt through his chest rather than heard. "i've told you, the 6am call time isn't negotiable. this is." he pushed through the fire exit of the building, the music replaced by a sudden silence and the cool air of the alley making you shiver.
he didnt put you down, he carried you all the way towards the black suv, opening the door with his free hand, his arm around your thighs, tightening as if he wanted to hold himself back, and practically threw (sat you down with aggression) you onto the cold leather seat.
he braced a hand on the doorframe, leaning in, his entire body blocking any chance of escaping. his hair was slightly dishevelled and sticking to his forehead from the crowd, his breathing still perfectly even. in the midst of it all, you could see his eyes from the car's subtle light. they were dark, filled with something wild.
"the next time," he said, voice hoarse, the threat dancing over your skin giving you goosebumps, "you decide to test me, consider how it'll end up. i can do this all night, darling, but, can you?"
he closed the door, not letting you answer his words; the darkness surrounded you in an instant. your heart hammered against your chest in humiliation and a hidden thrill. he'd manhandled you, and he won. you could feel the ghost of his shoulder and the imprint of his arm around the back of your thighs still burning. you wanted to tell yourself it meant nothing, you tried to, but you could feel your stomach coil just by thinking about it.
sunghoon sat in the opposite seat, taking deep breaths as he tried to cool his mind. his hand straightened his suit jacket, smoothing a hand over his dishevelled hair. he was looking out the window at the blurred lights of the city, his profile sharp, as if he hadn't tossed you over his shoulder infront of the cities elite's, as if your body wasnt still hot and heavy.
"you touched me," you said, voice trembling, not from fear, but with a rage that was dangerously close to something else you didn't want to admit.
he didn't turn, eyes glued to the outside. "i needed to remove you from the dangerous situation."
"dangerous?" a bitter laugh left your throat. "it was the fucking dance floor."
he let out a heavy sigh before finally shifting his head, streetlights fractured in his dark eyes. "you were three minute's from being followed into the bathroom by a man whose name you didn't even know, y/n." he scoffed, crossing his arms. "i bet you didn't even know his friends were recording from the bar. i'm pretty sure that's dangerous."
the information ran through your mind in an instant. you hadn't noticed, of course not. you were too busy trying to escape the sight of sunghoon, to even realise. the anger that was once racing through your mind had now faded into a sickening shame.
but, you didnt want him to see him, you couldn't let him see it. so, you doubled down on your words, facing away towards the window and crossing your arms over your chest. "so, your solution was to… manhandle me? like im some sack of potatoes?"
"my solution," he said, voice dropping to a rasp and one vibrating between the small space of both of you, eyes zeroing in on the way your chest popped out, "was the most efficient way to drag you out without causing a larger scene." his eyes gazed from your chest, down to your thighs which were clenched together, and back up to your wild hair. you could feel the tension and desire radiating off of him. "you left me no choice."
"i hate you," you whispered, the words having no meaning behind them.
he let out a content hum, turning away to face the window as well, mirroring your position. "right back at you, brat." the nickname just split out of his mouth, making your eyes wide, a wave of heat travelling through your skin. yet, you didn't mention it, letting the words hang in the car.
as the car stopped, he was out the door before the driver could even move or turn off the car, opening your side of the door. he didn't offer a hand; he just stood there with the door wide open, eyes sharper than ever as he watched you and waited.
with a huff, you slid out, legs unsteady and shaking. you had made a point to brush against him as you passed, your hands gliding against his own, and you could feel him go perfectly still. making you smirk as you walked in front of him.
the ride in the elevator was worse. the mirrored walls reflecting both of you, the silence filling up the small box. you could see every bit of your own emotion, your flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and the bewildered glint in your eyes. while he was calm and 'controlled'.
but, you knew better than anyone else.
you watched his face through the reflection. you could see the subtle twitch in his jaw when you shifted your weight. you caught the way his gaze flicked down for a split second, a violation of his own rules, before snapping back to the ascending numbers on the screen. you noticed each blink that lasted a second too long, the way his tongue swiped over his lower lip.
he was holding himself back from doing something he'd regret in the future.
the elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, the cool air hitting both of you in an instant. you took fast steps towards the penthouse's door, heart racing slightly as you opened the doors, tossing your clutch onto the side table with a sharp clatter.
you expected to hear the door shut behind you, leaving you alone in shame and humiliation. instead, you could hear his footsteps right behind you. he'd followed you in. he never came this close, unless it was to do a security sweep of your place.
with a furrow on your face, you whirled around to face him. "what?"
he stopped a few feet away, his hands back in that relaxed position behind his back. "you will drink a full glass of water, and take the aspirin i've left on your counter." his voice left no room for argument, as he placed a small box on the kitchen island. "you'll be in bed, lights out, within an hour." his eyes traced the lines of your face, the way your chest frantically rose and fell. "i'll known if you arent."
"or what?" you scoffed, shaking your head softly to seem intimidating. but, it came out soft, less sure. "you'll tuck me in yourself?"
the silence that followed was deafening; it practically sucked out the air of the room. you noticed the way his jaw tightened again, the muscle twitching. his gaze dropped to your mouth and your neck, just for a heartbeat, before snapping back to your eyes.
his professional persona was still there, but underneath it, you could see him fighting with his own control.
"do not," he mumbled, words so quiet they were almost inaudible, "push me tonight, y/n."
it wasn't a threat from your bodyguard, but a warning. one from the man hidden behind his professionalism, one filled with honesty and admission. the line between you two is thinner than ever.
your breath hitched as you stood there frozen. the anger now gone, burned away and replaced by something white-hot and fragile in its place. your emotions rushed through your brain, and you wanted to scream. cry. you wanted to close the distance between you both and see what would happen if you finally went against his words and pushed him.
he was the one who had broke the tension first. he let out a shaky, almost disappointed sigh, as he nodded, turned on his heel, and walked out. the door closed with a soft, definitive click. you didn't move after he left, just placed your hand on your stomach. you could feel the ghost of his shoulder against you, the raspiness in his voice. do not push me tonight, y/n."
after five minutes, you had moved. your mind racing as you followed his orders. you poured the water he'd demanded, you swallowed the aspitin left neatly on the counter. his voice practically controlling you as you mindlessly completed his tasks.
however, you didnt go to your bedroom like he told you to. you found yourself on the wide, cold ledge of your window knees drawn to your chest as you stared down at the city lights below you. mind replayed every single second. the possessive grip, the dizzying view from his shoulder, the way his jaw tightened when you called his name, the feeling of his hands branding your thigh.
a soft buzz cut off your thoughts; the glow of your long-forgotten phone had lit up the glass beside you. a notification, one that sunghoon had probably set when you were doing your photoshoot.
6 am - costal shoot , call time @ repulse bay.
your heart raced at the notifiaction, your fingers couldnt move to even pick up your phone. you just stared at it until the screen faded to black, leaving you with your thoughts again.
a sound of the car beeping made you snap back to reality, head shaking in an instant. he thought he had won, he thought once he left he had reestablished the boundary between you two. and he did, for 10 minutes. he though you'd be a good girl and go to sleep, like he told you too.
with a shaky exhale, you slid off the ledge, a new calm settling over you. you didn't change out of the leather top and skin-tight shorts. you just walked to your bedroom, but not to sleep. you sat on the edge of your bed in the dark, watching the digital clock on your bedside table tick to 2 am.
you were going to that shoot, you were going to be on time, and professional. but something was going to change, sunghoon was going to change.
you picked up your phone, the glow illuminating your face, expression unreadable. without a thought, you clicked the camera app open, and pushing down your tubetop, your breasts practically falling out in an instant, nipples barely hidden by the shirt. with a hidden smirk, you clicked the photo button.
next, you pushed your pants down, just below your ass to reveal your panties, before you breached the waistband of your underwear, snapping another photo.
with a shakey breath, you had clicked the 'record' option, placing the phone beside you, at an angle where sunghoon could see your side, yet not enough of you.
your fingers delicately swiped over your clit, letting out a shivery moan. before dipping your fingers into your hole, the slick instantly coating your fingers. "sunghoon…" you whispered, loud enough for the camera to catch, two fingers instantly pumping in and out of you.
your mind blank as you curled your fingers, your palm hitting your clit— and just like that, you came and saw white, sunghoon's name on your tongue as you moaned. your fingers rested inside you, slowly scissoring to let you ride down your high.
with a smirk, you went to stop the recording with your free hand, searching his contact name on your messanges: park sunghoon , kinda annoyingly hot bodyguard
you : [attachment: 2 images , 1 video]
you : come over m so lonely ;(
you hit send with a sigh, the silence stretching for one minute. then two. and you saw him read the message, ellipsis dissappearing and reappearing. and by that moment, you knew you've gotten him. before he could even send a message, you tossed your phone onto your bed, chest still heaving slightly before rolling over to fall asleep.
sunghoon : miss y/n? what is this?
sunghoon : fuck, is that what you really think of me?
sunghoon : it's 2:07 am.
sunghoon : dont fucking tempt me. dont send me shit like this again.
—
the alarm beeped aggressively beside your ear, waking you up rudely from your dream of getting fed grapes like a god. in it, however was sunghoon, his eyes doe and almost submissive. everytime he spoke it sent shivers down your spine.
you fumbled to silence the blaring noise by your head, outside still dark due to the early morning of 4 am, for a moment, you just layed there. the memories of last night's actions rushing back to you, resulting in a red face, yet not in regret or embarrasment, just reality hitting you. you had crossed a line, and you couldn't erase it.
you moved through your usual morning routine with a eerie clamness. the shower was hotter than usual, your skincare just a tad more sloppier than usual, your outfit more simple than usual, a oversized hoodie and some shorts. something had switched.
you didn't check your phone, you didn't need to. the proof of what you'd done was heavy in the air of your penthouse. you could feel chills running down your spine as you took a step out of the door, your eyes trying to adjust to the bright light of the lobby at 5:28 am, you practically saw it immediatley. the suv was already there, waiting for you.
sunghoon stood outside the passenger door, arms crossed over his broad chest, staring directly at the building's entrance. but you could tell something was off, he wasn't in his usual composed stance, no. his foot was tapping ever so slightly against the concrete, he wasn't wearing his suit jacket, just the white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and he looked like he might've slept in it.
as soon as you stepped foot into his eyesight, you could see the tension and eyebags under his eyes. there was no professionalism left, his gaze dark and furious as he intensely stared at you. you noticed the way his jaw tightened and how his biceps through the thin material pop.
he didn't speak, nor did he open the door. he just stared, waiting for you to come closer, his entire presences a practical question.
you gulped a hard lump in your throat, own expression blank as you walked to the car. you stopped a few feet from him, morning air cooler between your bodies. the scent of axe body spray and coffee had wrapped around you.
"you're early…" you said, voice unnaturally calm in the heavy silence of the morning.
his eyes, the sharp gaze on you didn't waver. "you're late," he countered, voice low and rough. it wasn't about the time.
after what felt like forever, he'd finally move a sharp single step that closed the distance. he was close enough now that you could see the redness around the corner of his eyes, the way his pupils were dialated, the way his adams apple bopped. he had reached behind him, yanking the car door open for you. it wasn't a gesture of service, but an order.
"get in."
you hesitated, just for a second, looking up at him. you were this close to flipping the script, follow his orders like a pet, just like you did last night. but you didnt, you huffed, crossing your arms once again.
"or what?" you whispered, the challenge in your voice lacked its usual heat, this time it was a genuine question.
a humorless sound escaped his lips. he leaned in, voice dropping to something more dangerous only you were meant to hear. "or i wont be responsible of what i say or do, pretty. we both have a long day ahead of us, so if you wouldn't be such a brat…" he straightened himself, moving towards the side to let you in, "get. in. the. car. now."
the threat was different than his usual ones, he wasn't going to physically remove you. it was about words, truths. about the way he was holding everything that had built up between the both of you. with a exhale, you slid into the backseat of the car, not missing the way he looked at your backside as you entered.
as soon as you buckled your seatbelt, he didn't slam the door, he'd just closed it with a precise finality. the sound ending anything you would've wanted to say. as he walked around towards the other side, you saw him run a hand through his already messed up hair, a rare occurance, before he had composed himself, straightening his shoulders as he got in.
the driver pulled away from the curb, the only sound surrounding you was the engine. you were alone in the back with him, anything could practically happen. you glanced up at him with a almost worried look in your eyes. he stared straight ahead, his profile still perfect than ever, just… his eyes had more emotion, a storm of them. anger, dangerous and something raw, one that made your stomach clench.
you opened your mouth, not even sure of what you would've said, an apology? something to provoke him more? the words died in your throat before it could even reach your mouth.
"don't," he said, the single word cutting the silence instantly. he didn't look at you, his voice low and strained, almost painful to hear. "don't say a single word to me right now."
he finally turned his head, full force of his gaze weighing down on you. it wasn't anger anymore, just an exhausting intensity.
"you think this is a game," he started, voice dropping lower and almost trembling. "you think sending me… that.. in the middle of the night was just another way to win." he leaned in slightly, making you press your back against the seat. "you have no idea what you're playing with. no idea what you're asking for."
you wanted to move away, jump out the car even, but you couldn't. he held your wide-eyed star for a long, almost punishing moment before turning back to the window without another word, as if he couldn't bear to look at you anymore. you could see his hand, the one resting on his thigh, clenched into white knuckled fists.
the rest of the drive passed in a sufforcating silence, as you watched the citylines of causeway bay turn into discovery bay, the secenery nothing but a smear of random colours against the window. you wanted a reaction, but you got a reality check, one you werent able to even handle.
—
the shoot was basically torture. you were following his words to the bone: punctual, polite, cooperative top model. not saying you weren't, but you'd have to be on your best behaviour infront of sunghoon.
your smile's were filled with more sugar, your short patients miraculously had turned into hours as you waited for the stylist's adjustment's of your dress, and you even took the photographer's critisism with a simple nod, no argument.
it was basically a performance, and one that was solely for him.
sunghoon stood at his usual post, his dark shadow against the white rental van, but his professional mask now a facade. you could feel his gaze on you, more hotter than the morning sun. every time a male staff member's hand lingered near your shoulder to adjust a strap, you saw the subtle flare of his nostrils. every time you laughed at a joke from the photographer, his jaw tightened just a bit.
you have never been more away of your own body, of every gesture, every glance.
the first break came, you were shivering under the sun, the sea's wind hitting you like an ice brick. you hugged yourself, rubbing you arms to heat yourself up.
"tough gig, huh?"
the voice practically made you jump. you turned around with wide eyes, only to relax as you saw him. kim sunoo, a model you've done dozen campaigns with. he was a harmless and friendly guy, who was convienetly in a long puffer jacket. "they always forget we're humans, not mannequins, huh?" he laughed, already shrugging out of it. "here, before you turn onto a frozen statue."
you rolled your eyes, smiling in an instant. "you're an angel," you laughed, already accepting the vest. as you pulled it on, you practically moaned in relief as you felt the warmth envelop you, your arms wrapping your body once again. "seriously, i owe you, sunoo."
"just get me a coffee later," he joked, leaning a shoulder against the same equipment crate you were near.
you chatted about anything and everything during your break, your mutual ganecy, about what you'd do after your careers, five nights at freddys lore, anything. you let yourself relax into the conversation, despite the high-stakes war with your own bodyguard.
from across the set, sunghoon watched. he saw the way sunoo gave you his jacket. he saw you hug it around yourself, face softening in a way it never did for him. he saw how sunoo leaned in, how close you were, how you smiled. it wasn't the blantant provocation of your videos, but worse.
it was natural, a glimpse of you that existed outside of him, a you who could be warm and smiled at by someone else.
a cold, quiet rage began to bubble in his veins, one slow and deadly.
the shoot resumed, you gave the jacket back with another thanks. but, the damage was already done. for the next hour, sunghoon's mind filled with a storm of emotions. his silence grew heavier, more oppressive.
he had stopped obesrving, and began to track your every move. when sunoo passed you a bottle of water, sunghoon's eyes followed the bottle as if it was a knife. when sunoo just brushed past you, sunghoon's eyes followed him as if he was robbing you.
the final straw came during the last setup. you were waiting for the lighting adjustments with a hot pack in your hand. sunoo had went over to you to show you a funny video, as you offered him a hot pack as well. with a laugh, you both leaned over the screen, heads held close together. the sound from the both of you genuine.
that was it.
sunghoon moved for the first time.
he didn't just walk, he took long steps that closed the distances with a terrifying speed that had staff members stumbling out of his way. once he reached you, he didn't utter a single word to sunoo. he had simply inserted himself between you, his back to the other model, body physically cutting him off from you.
his hand closed around your elbow, but it wasn't the polite touch of a bodyguard, but from someone who was possessive, jealous. the grip firm enough to make you gasp.
"we're leaving. now," his voice left no room for argument, it practically vibrated with tension that had been built for hours. now, this wasn't about any safety. it wasn't about the schedule. it was all about him.
"sunghoon, what— the shoot, it isn't—" you started, heart hammering.
as his eyes locked onto yours, you noticed something. you noticed how his controlled composure is gone, replaced by something feral and animalistic. "do not," he bit out, each word laced with venom, "say another word."
he turned, pulling you with him. he didn't lead you to a car or a tent. he marched you towards the secluded cluster of jagged rocks that hid you from the view of the silent, stunned set. his grip was burning into your wrist, steps long and furious on the uneven sand, forcing you to stumble to keep up in your heels.
the sound of the sea grew louder, the crash of waves against the stone's muting the distant murmurs of the staff and set.
once you were hidden, he released your wrist only to spin you around, backing you against the cold rough stone. his rough hands came up on either side of you, caging you in, body blocking out the sky.
he was breathing heavily, not from any sort of tirdness, but from the amount of emotion holding him back. the scent of the sea practically nonexistant by the heat of him, the smell of his deodarant now making your head spin.
"explain." he demanded, voice low and a ragged growl. his eyes searched your face, hungry and furious. "the video you sent. the messages. and… him." he didn't say sunoo's name, as if it would kill him if he did. "what is this game, y/n? what do you want from me?"
he leaned in closer, face a breath away from yours. his gaze was terrifying, and… you'd hate to say it, but it was hot.
"y/n, i've done everything to control myself. i've tried my best to maintain every rule i've set for myself. and— you. you have done nothing but try and provoke me." his voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "so tell me. right now."
"what. do. you. want?"
your breath hitched, a sharp sound lost in the crash of the waves. your lips parted, but no sound came out. your eyes dropped from his predatory glare, to his mouth, then back up.
his own restraints was as visible as yours. you could see the veins of his neck popping out, the way his hands pressed against the rock beside your head, whitening knuckles, shaking slightly, from holding back from closing the distance between your bodies.
"y/n." he said, your name sounding desperate and broken. "answer me."
you swallowed, the lump in your throat nearly choking you.
the truth, the stupid, terrifying truth, tumbled out in barely a whisper.
"you."
the word hung in the cool air between the both of you.
a ragged exhale escaped him, eyes squeezing shut for a second as if it was a dream. when they open again, the possessivness was still there, but it had melted. melted into something more hotter, and definitely more dangerous.
"me," he repeated, words low and almost disbelieving. "you want, me?" he shifted, one hand from from the rock, his fingertips coming to brush against the pulse hammering in your throat. "the anger? frustration? the man who loses his mind because another man dared to give you his jacket?"
you nodded, a tiny, almost unoticible movement. "i want you to stop being my bodyguard for a second, sunghoon." you gasp, heart pulsing out of your mouth. "i want you to just be… him. the one who gets angry, the one who manhandles me out of the club. the one who probably jacked off to the video i sent you at 2 am."
his breath hitched at your last words, a soft blush creeping onto his face. his thumb swept over your jawline, touch still terrifyingly gentle compared to his intensity. "that… that man isn't safe for you," he breathed, forehead lowering until it touched yours. "that man wanted to do things… things that breaked every single rule. since the first day i saw you."
"then break them," you whispered, own hands coming up to fist the front of his shirt weakly. "please, for me. break them all."
a low, tortured sound rippled through his chest, it was the sound of something snapping.
"fuck you," he murmured, voice lacking of any threat, as his mouth captured your own.
it wasn't gentle, it was something claiming, one of a desperate answer to everything you've thrown his way.
the hand on the rock left to frame your face, his kiss swallowing your gasp, pouring the months of tension into you. from the sleepless nights, to the seething frustration to your provoking moves. you could feel him tighten his hand around your neck just a tiny bit, as he pushed his body closer to yours. the rocks behind you digging into your back as his knee slotted between your legs.
you moaned into the kiss as you felt his knee push against your cunt, only for him to growl into your mouth as a warning. the hand around your neck tightening. "don't be too loud, princess." he rumbled, his chest vibrating against yours.
a sound punched out of you, a desperate gasp you didn't even recognize as your own. your body moved on its own, your hips seeking friction against the muscle of his thigh through his slacks and your dress. a tight coil practically hit your stomach, and you knew with humiliating clarity that he could also feel how desperate you were. how the slick heat rushed through you onto your panties.
a low dark chuckle vibrated in his chest, one that sounded of pure male satifaction. "easy now," he murmured, breath hot against your lips. his voice was rough, thick with control that was entierly different than before, this. this was the control of a man who knew he'd won. "i know we just… 'confessed'."
god, he was so hot. and he clearly, almost devastatingly, knew it. the hand that had been at your neck tightened for one last possessive squeeze, before sliding down. his palm tracing a path over your bollarbone, the curves of your breast, to setllte firmly on your waist.
his other hand joined it, fingers splaying across the small of your back. "here," he growled, word more of a command than endearment. he guided your hips against his thigh, his own hip foward, the press deliberate and undeniable, letting you feel the hard proof of his own lack of control. "this is what you wanted, isn't it? to see me break, to see me like this?"
he moved again, a slow, griding roll that had stars trickling behind your eyelids. his forehead dropped against yours, eyes burning into yours inches away. the feral anger had disappeared, transforming into a smoldering, possessive heat.
"congrats, brat." he breathed, his lips a hair away from yours. "you've got exactly what you asked for."
his mouth didn't touch yours. he held that agonizing, painstaking distance, letting the heat of your ragged, breaths mingle in the space between the both of you. he was taunting you, showing you how he could control you.
and that made you see red.
enough of these games. enough of the torturous pace. your hands flew up, fingers tangling in the dark strands of his gelled hair. you didn't coax him, you pulled him. yanking his head down with a force that erased any distance.
the moment your lips met, it wasnt sweet. it wasn't gentle. it was something final, furious. one that ended the war of pining between you two. a gasp was wallowed between you, and he froze for one second, shock stilling him.
then, with a low growling sound, that was filled with pure hunger, he had gave in.
no, he took over.
his arms wrapped around your waist tighter, crushing you against the wall of his chest and the cold rock behind you. the kiss transformed from a desperate claim into something almost pathetic. it was all the heat and demand, his mouth moved over yours with a starving intensity. you could feel his hard on grinding against your clothed cunt.
"please." you begged, unsure of what you were even begging for. the sharp thrust of his cock against you made you practically cry. your moans silenced by his kisses. "shh…"
one of his hands slid from your waist to under your dress, the heat almost unbearable. his finger hooked your panties to the side, feeling the slick against your cunt. "so needy for me arent you?" he muttered, his index and middle finger inside of you within seconds, just like the video you sent him.
his fingers curled and scissored you, making your knees feel weak. you didn't know how, but fuck, he was good. his palm slapped your clit occasionally, the sensation making you moan into his mouth louder than before.
he was practically drinking them up as if it was whiskey, the sound music to his ears. "i need you to turn around for me, can you do that, baby?" his hands already pulling away from you, to unzip his slacks.
you eagerly nod, turning around as your hands braced the harsh rocks. you could feel his mushroomy tip glide across your hole, making your back arch, and push towards him. sunghoon practically took his time with you.
each movement was slow and deliberate, your stomach curling into an aching need, it was practically crazy how bad you wanted him. in public.
"want me bad, dont ya?" he muttered, his hand fisting the flesh of your ass, to spread you wide open. his tip finally slides into you with ease, making you both moan.
he practically gave you no time to adjust, pulling out to slam back inside of you. the thrusts were so rapid you needed to grip onto the rocks until your knuckles turned white. "shit, i've been waiting," he groaned, his teeth nipping the back of your neck. his hand going down to land a sharp slap on your ass cheek.
you cried out at his words and actions, biting your lip till it bleeds. "fuck, sunghoon—" you whined, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head. you could feel his hands grip around your waist, leaving marks against your neck which wont disappear for another few weeks,
"gotta show everyone who you belong to, yeah?" he growled, teeth still connected to your skin as his hand goes to circle your clit. his thrusts still as brutal as ever. "i want you to cum." he whispered, the sound almost so seductive contrasting the waves.
you nod against the rocks, earning a sharp slap against your already red ass cheek. "y—yes!" you winced, your stomach coiling and knotting at the feeling.
"good girl." he purred, and that alone made you cum on the spot. your moan high pitched as your gummy walls clenched around his cock.
"hoon—" you cried out, letting yourself ride out the high by sunghoons brutal thrusts.
"shit, baby. i'm gonna—" he groaned, pulling out just in time so he came onto the rocks, his cum shooting ropes onto the grey stone, which, in your opinion, was a waste.
he groaned softly as he tucked himself in, his mind clouded with the feeling of you wrapped around his cock. but, he still had a job to do. he kissed your temple softly, landing a playful slap on your cheek, making you jolt and whisper his name.
before you could even process it, his hands were on you again. he fixed you with a meticulous care, one more that any other guy has before. he tugged your panties back into place, the fabric damp against your senstive skin. he smoothed down the rumpled skirt of your dress, knuckles brushing your thighs.
then, with a smile, he pulled out a neaty, white handkerchief from his inner pocket. he knelt, just slightly enough, the sand dusting on his knees, to wipe away the slick evidence from your earlier activites, the feeling making you sigh softly, as he stood up and tucked it away back into his pocket for other uses.
he used his thumb to wipe away the tears, which you hadn't even realized were there. his expression was unreadable, something fixed with pure focus but also a hidden adoration behind it. when he finished, he cupped your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. a warm unusal smile plastered on his face.
"now," he hummed, voice low and even, laced with authority that left no room for argument. "be a good doll and finish that shoot for me, yeah?"
he released your chin, giving your hip a final pat, stepping back to hold out a hand to guide you away from the rocks. the change, sudden, but one you'd welcome. you smiled softly, one not os submission, but a secret understanding. you placed your hand in his, allowing him to guide you away from the rocks and back to the set.
as soon as you turned the corner, the entier set seemed to freeze. dozen eyes snapped to both of you, both wide and bewildered with curiosity. they could tell what had happened, evidence all over the both of you: the faint, reddish-purple bite marks on your neck and lower lip, the red, puffy rims of your eyes, the slight tremble in your legs. they saw him, his face no longer stoic, but composed with an undeniable smirk on his puffy lips as he held your hand, his thumb stroking a slow circle over your knuckles.
the silence was deafening, but not a single person, not the photographer, not the stylist, not even sunoo, had dared to say a word. the energy between you was raw and possessive. it needed silence.
sunghooon led you directly to the mark for the next shot. he leaned in, lips brushing against your ear as he adjusted a stray strand of hair for the cameras, his voice a low murmur only for you to hear.
"perfect. just like that, doll. don't forget to smile, yeah?"
he took a step back, melting into the background once again. but, you could feel his gaze on you, heavier and more possessive. you turned towards the lens, smile blooming effortlessly like you hadn't just fucked more than 10 minutes ago.
the shoot continued, everyone, forgetting what had happened, but you didn't. sunghoon was less aggressive, more clingy during your breaks, hands lingering on your waist, fingers brushing each strand.
you were his, and everyone on the beach knew it.
—
after the fiasco on the beach, as the both of you privaetly valled it, didn't end with a whispered agreement. it ended with a decision made in your comfortable at 3 am, his lips still tasting of the salty sea and your own lips. "no more hiding," he muttered into your hair, arms wrapped around your torso. "they'll find out either way, i'd rather they heard it from us."
and he was right, less than 48 hours it was all over every social media platform ever.
breaking news!
model, y/n l/n, now dating her bodyguard, park sunghoon!
. . . click here to see more !
the article had a grainy photo of the both of you shot from afar, leaving a quiet dinner, his hand not guiding you as usual, but intertwined with yours. the comments were a mix of shock, fake concern for your future, and people in denial. you didn't read most of it, and sunghoon made sure of that. plucking the phone out of your grasp, replacing it with a towel so you could dry his damp hair. "it's just noise, baby. we knew it would be."
you let out a laugh at his newfound clinginess, your finger going to tap his nose softly as you dried his hair, "you're like a dog, hoonie."
"i'm your dog." he mumbled, pressing a kiss into your thigh, making you slap him lightly with a towel.
"ow!"
over the month, you were inseparable. dynamic clearly shifting, he was no longer a shadow, but he was your boyfriend, present in every dimension of your life.
at shoots, he stood and watched, not from the shadows, but now from a director's chair with your name on it, going over security briefing notes, or more often than not, watching you with a pride that made your cheeks a soft pink.
dueing breaks, he didn't linger at the service table; he'd walk right onto the set, handing you a customised coffee, and kissing you softly, not caring about the crew's judgmental looks. "missed you," he'd whisper, as if you both were weeks apart.
in meetings, he sat beside you, not behind you. when a brand executive talked down to you, it wasn't you who stood up for yourself, but sunghoon. voice cold and lethally polite, would cut through the sharp air. "i'd reconsider your tone when you're talking to my girlfriend." the room would go silent, he wasn't just someone working for you, but someone who cared about you.
in the car, the drives were no longer silent; they were loud and bubbly. his hand would rest on your thigh, his thumb stroking absently as he scrolled through emails, while you talked about the drama inside the modelling scene, or you'd doze off with your head on his shoulder, lulled off by the way he would talk about his past careers before working for you.
the public saw a possessive bodyguard who'd crossed a line, but they didn't see the man who had learned how to braid your hair before bed to keep it from tangling, or the one who had a whole notes app dedicated to you and what you hated or enjoyed. they saw a scandal, while you saw someone hopelessly devoted to you.
he was there for you when you needed someone to hang onto, he was there when you needed someone to laugh with. he was also there when you got an invitation to go to one of the most luxurious galleries in hong kong.
the venue was a sleek, members-only gallery, all white walls and whispered conversations. you were on sunghoon's arm, wearing a silver and long dress, you practically felt like royalty. he was in a tuxedo, looking less like a bodyguard, and more like your future.
and for the first hour, it was perfect. you moved through the crowd together, you sipped champagne, admired the rather confusing art pieces and laughed at a few, you exchanged polite smiles with well-known models and artists.
sunghoon's hand never left your back, something that made you warm and comfortable. this was something you havent even dared to think about outside of your dreams, but here you are, the two of you, in this gallery full of famous people, only belonging to each other.
it felt like you lived on cloud nine.
until you felt his hand leave your back.
he leaned down, his lips pressed against your cheek softly. "i just got a text, i need to find the head of security," he murmured, voice a warm rumble. "two minutes, okay? don't move from this spot."
you nodded, a warm fuzz growing in your stomach, giving his arm a tight squeeze. "okay, hoon."
he shot you a look that was filled with affection and a small warning as he melted into the crowd with a silent elegancy.
you turned back to try and admire the banana tapped onto the wall, sipping your drink as your mind wandered. what the fuck is this and who bought it.
"a work of art looking at another work of art, huh?" a smooth voice hummed beside you.
your face scrunched, to see a man, tall and his hair a ashy brown, holding a business car between his fingers like he was trying to tell you a secret. "lee heeseung. i've been trying to get an introduction from you all night. your energy… is just wow."
he let out a soft hum, gaze flickering rather dismissively towards the direction sunghoon had gone. "right, mr. park? he seems like… a dedicated bodyguard, doesn't he? a bit intense for a place like this, don't you think?" he laughed, taking half a step closer to you, invading the space that sunghoon always maintained around you. "a masterpiece like you shouldn't be hidden by some… shadow. i'm having an after-party on my room, very exclusive. private. the view is undeniable. you look like you could use a taste of freedom."
your skin crawled at his words. you opened your mouth, you were about yell at him, tell him to stop, when the air around you shifted. the temperature didn't just drop, it congealed. you felt him before you even saw him.
sunghoon had returned, he stood fifteen feet away, his face from loving now carved into fury. he wasn't looking at you. his whole being was focused on heeseung, on the distance between you two, on the way he was leaning into your space. you saw the instant transformation of sunghoon in a detail you never wanted to see: the way all the colour drained from his pale face, his knuckles clencing into his fists, nails piercing the skin of his palm slightly, the strain in his neck, the blankess that filled his features.
then, without a word, he had turned and walked away. not towards you, but away. and you swore you could see his eyes cloud up. he cut through the body of people with sharp, angry steps, heading straight for the outdoor bar, by the balcony.
your heart sank at the view. he was leaving you there, with this parasite. this idiot. fine. that was fucking fantastic.
you turend back to heeseung, smile now sharp enough to cut paper. "mr. lee," you said, voice dripping with poision. "let me be perfectly clear. the only thing im interested in is you getting the hell out of my sight. if your brain was as intellegant as the way you spoke, you'd have noticed the man you insulted could practically break you in more ways than your money could ever fix!" you cheered, clasping your hands together. "now, you will turn around, and you'll walk away. and if you so much as think of my name again, i'll personally ensure the only thing you'd be reciving is a punch into that cocklette of yours."
the colour drained from his face, the smug confidence evaporating in a second. his hands flew to his clothed cock, as he stammered something with a red face and fled.
with a huff, you turned around, gaze pinned to the bar by the balcony. and there, you could see your handsome boyfriend against the night skies and a… girl. she was stunning, wearing a blood-red drss and her hair flowing in confident curves. you watched as she smiled, tilting her head.
she had said something, touching his forearm lightly with a pout. sunghoon simply nodded, face masked of a polite attention. he didn't take a step back, nor did he look uncomfortable. he just listened to her.
a hot, prickling feeling crawled up your neck. jealousy.
you swallowed the lump in your throat as you cut through the crowd, steps quickening by the second. as you got closer, you could hear her velvety voice.
"…you poor thing, it must be so demanding, a job like yours. all that focus. all that strength." she let her gaze travel over his shoulders in lust. "you look like you could handle anything."
sunghoon gave a single, acknowledging nod. "situational assessments and de-escalation are key components of being a bodyguard, yes.."
you almost choked at his words.
she laughed a flirtatious sound, leaning in closer to him. "i'm sure. i feel so much safer just talking to you. maybe you could give me a private lesson sometime, hm? i have a penthouse with a… very complex security system."
sunghoon's brows furrowed slightly, as if he was given a math problem. "i don't do private residential consultations… but my firm could refer you to a qualified specialist."
that was it, that tiny, meaningless gesture, after the build up of jealousy you'd just witness in him, was enough to fuel the tank.
(not so) calmly, you turned, back facing the scene. you watched as a waiter walked past you, allowing you to place the flute glass down, loud enough it made an echoing sound. you took large steps as you collected your clutch and the faux fur wrap from the coat rack with a smile, nodding at the attendant.
you moved through the lobby like a ghost, one untouchable and icy. your hands struggling to push the heavy doors into the cool night, the cities sound welcoming you made your head pound, silencing the sufforcating murmurs of the gallery behind you. you took a deep, shuttering breath as you took a step in your heels. you'd walk home in them if you had to.
you'd had made it exactly five steps away from the building when a familiar black car slid right beside you, the tinted window rolling down with a soft 'vrrr' sound.
he was inside.
you didn't know how, he was there so quick but you didn't mention it. he didn't lean foward, wasn't straining to see you. he was reclined in the leather seat, one arm draped along the back of the seat. you could see his eyes glancing at you with a unreadable emotion.
"get in."
his voice was quiet. flat. devoided of the rage you had heard, the warmth you craved. it was the voice he used to state facts. fork found in the kitchen. sky is blue. get in.
you stopped, letting out a huff and lifting your chin. "you don't get to do that. you don't get to walk away when some creep was all over me, then just show up and give me orders when you get jealous."
"he touched you?" the question was sharp, body going rigid.
"not the point!" you shot back, voice trembling. "the point is, you left. she showed up, and you— you actually acknowledged her! answered her when she flirted with you."
there was a second of silence, one that stretched for too long. "she asked about the job, i told her i'll refer her back to my company. that's all it was."
it sounded reasonable. it was most likely the truth. but your jealousy was already powered up, risen through the roof. "well, it didn't look like nothing. not after what i saw on your face. not after you walked away from me!"
he winced softly when you yelled at him. that was the first time he's ever heard you raised your voice. "get in the car." he repeated, the command now quiet and weaker, straining at the edges. "we'll talk at home."
"no." the word was final. you took a step back, away from him and the car. "i'm not getting in that car. i'm going to walk, and be alone. and you don't get to stop me this time."
as you started to turn, you saw it. the fracture in the dim light, you saw the mask crack. his eyes were widening, just a fraction, the way they started to cloud with something raw and painful. his lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. for the first time, he had nothing to say.
he said nothing; he just stared. the patient confidence drained from his posture, leaving something hollow in his place.
with the lack of silence you caused, you turned on your heel. you didn't look back, just started to walk away. the sharp clicking of your heel on the pavement is loud and echoes against the night. you expected to hear the car door slam, expected his footsteps to be swept up and carried off despite all your protests.
but, none of that happened. you only heard the soft hum of the car window rolling up. then the whisper of tires driving off, leaving you alone on the sidewalk.
your words, now hollow and sucking at your chest with regret. you walked, the cold air a slap against your skin with each step. he had let you go. not on his own will, but because you had asked him to, and you had no idea how to come back from that.
—
the silence of the penthouse was different as you shut the door. it was heavy, a familiar silence, one usually filled with his quiet presences, the rustle of paperwork, the soft click of the glass being set down, the quiet whines for your attention, the low hum of his breath as he slept. now, it was replaced by the silence of your own breath.
you hadn't even bothered with the lights. you'd kick of your ruined heels at the door, the silver dress pooling around you like it was a sack as you sank onto the cold leather sofa. you didn't cry, just stared at the black tv screen, seeing nothing yet feeling everything.
the minutes blended into hours, the ice that ran through your veins had dissapeared, behind replaced by a needy ache. you had replayed it all, the way he had stilled, turned and left you, your own sharp words, the hury in his eyes before the window rolled up. the anger had burnt up, leaving only regret.
your fingers came to your lips, teeth instantly biting against your manicured nails. the sound only interuptted by a soft single knock.
not the key in the lock, not the soft beep of a security system.
just a soft knock.
your heart stuttered, then began a frantic rhythm against your ribs. he had never knocked, this was his house, their house, he had keys, codes, face recognition.
the knock came agian, this time a little harder. not impatient, but almost insistent.
slowly, as if moving through quick sand, you stood up. the silk pooled around your legs as you padded barefoot across the cold floor. you didn't turn on the foyer lights. you stood by the door, hand hovering over the handle.
you could see the shadow of someone standing in the hallway through the peephole. tall, broad-shouldered, head slightly bowed. you knew who it was.
with a gulp, you pulled the door open.
sunghoon stood there, barely in his tuxedo, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. his tie was loose, the jacket long gone, his buttons undone. his hair was disheveled, as if he had ran his hands through it for hours. he wasn't looking at the door when it opened, he was staring at the floor, where your feet were.
he didn't move to enter, but his head slowly lifted up to look at yours. his composure long gone and replaced by vulnerability. his eyes were red-rimmed, a sign he cried, his hands wrapped around the bouquet, shaking.
your breath hitched, the sound painfully loud in the quiet hallway. the sight was too much. it shattered the last of your own pride. without a word, without metting his eyes, you moved to push the door shut. it wasnt a slam, but a poor attempt to block out the heartbreaking image infront of you.
a soft, pained escaped him, a silence wince. then, his foot, covered in a polished leather, now ruined from walking, slid into the narrow gap, stopping the door from closing. his hand gently resting against the wood.
"please—"
the word was a ragged breath, something fractured. it wasn't his usual demands, but a plea, one from a place so deep it hurted, leaving no room for pride and games.
"please— y/n," he whispered, voice breaking on your name. he leaned his forehead against the door, eyes squeezing shut instantly. "let me in, let me talk—"
the bouquet of flowers, forgotten in his over hand, brushed against the door frame. he was holding onto it like a lifeline, the only thing he thought to bring as an apology now crushed.
"sunghoon, i dont—"
"please, y/n i promise—" his voice cracked, you could hear his voice waver. the words trembling in his throat. "i'll be… i'll be a good boy."
your eyes flew wide, your face flooding with heat in an instant. a good boy? the phrase, coming from someone like him, was oddly… hot? it sparked something low in your belly, a confusing clash of heartbreak and thrill. what was happening right now?
"i'll— i'll do anything, baby." he pleaded, the words rough in the tense space between the door and the frame. he pushed the door future open, just enough do his eyes found yours. and you could tell he was desperate, there was a sense of vulnerability behind him, and you were the one who saw it. "for you. to accept my apology, i'll be quiet if i have to! i'll obey. just, tell me what you want."
this was no longer a plea for forgiveness. it was an offer, a surrender of himself. he was begging to be let in at any cost. the word 'obey' didnt just hang in the air, it snapped something between the two of you.
you didn't move to open the door wider, you held his gaze through the narrow gap, your own breaths shallow. "you'll be quiet?" you repeated, voice dropping to a low, testing murmur.
he nodded, a sharp, desperate jerk of his chin. "yes, shit. anything."
"even if i don't want you to speak?" you asked, the sentence laced with a new, unfamiliar authority.
a shudder ran through him, his eyes, still red, darkened with an understanding that wasn't just about forgiveness. he let out a soft whine, nodding at your words. "even then," he breathed.
with a new recognition, you slowly released the pressure on the door. he didn't rush; he just pushed it enough for him to slide through, closing the door softly behind him, the final click sealing you both in the dim foyer.
he towered over you, yet it didn't intimade you, rather it empowered you. you could see the soft tremble on his body as he waited. you reached out and took the crushed flowers from his shaking hand, your fingers brushed against his. tossing the flowers onto the table without looking away from him.
"kneel."
the words were a soft command, and he didn't hesitate. sunghoon, your bodyguard, park sunghoon, had sank to his knees on the marble floor. his head bowed, broad shoulders tensed up.
the sight was beautiful, one that made you realise you had power over him, and he would'nt stop you.
you took a step closer, the hem of your dress brushing his bent knee. you let your gingertips trail from his temple, down to the line of his jaw, tipping his face up to yours. his eyes were glossy and shaking, making you smirk.
"you walked away from me tonight," you said, thumb brushing his lower lip. "you let me think you didn't care about me."
a pained distraught sound escaped his throat. "i care too much, baby. it destroys me."
you let out a soft laugh, your hand going to grip his hair lightly. "then show me," you whispered.
that was all he needed. his hand came up to grasp your hips, not to pull you down, but to anchor himself as he leaned foward, face pressed in the fabric that covered your stomach. his breath was hot and whiney. "i'm sorry," he murmured, words vibrating against your skin. "'m so sorry, i'll never do it again. i'll be good for you. so so good."
his voice was raw, and desperate. he turned his head, lips seeking the skin of your hip bone, kissing you through the silk. his hand slid around your lower back until you were pulled closer and cradled by him. "please…" he whined into you, unsure himself of what he wanted.
you let out a small coo at his words, helping him get you out of the dress. your hands fumbled with the zip at the back before shrugging the dress down, revealing the matching lace bra and thong you had one, the ones that made him water at the mouth. "y'know, babe. i was going to surprise you, but you've been such a bad boy."
the words bad boy rung in his ear, making him wince like a puppy. shaking his head instantly, tears threatning to slip. "nonono, please— i havent." his hands travelled around your hips, tugging at the waistband of your thong. the rough fingers feel desperate and needy.
a warm laugh vibrated through your chest as you let him peel the lace down your legs, his mouth watering at every inch revealed. "you're soso pretty, baby." he murmured, kissing the inner corner of your thigh.
your fingers threaded through his dark hair, not gently but filled with possessiveness that made him cry. you leaned back against the cool wall of the foyer for support. "show me how good you'll be for me," you whispered, command dark against the quiet penthouse.
a broken needy sound tore from his throat, a whine that was filled with surrender. he didn't hesitate. his hands tightened against your hips, holding you steady as he leaned in, mouth on your slicked hole in an instant, no teasing, nothing. a low moan vibrated against your core as his tongue lapped a desperate stripe through your slick, as if drinking you down was the only thing that could save him.
the taste of you seemed to push him more, a ragged groan echoed through your skin, as his arms wrap around your thighs to pull you even more firmly against his mouth. he wasn't skilled or practiced, rather hungry. his tongue worked on you with a worshipful intensity, his nosse pressed against you, breathing you in like you were his only source of air.
every lap, every suck, was a silent plea, one that wanted to demonstrate his promise. i'll be good, see? i'll be so good.
his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, leaving small nail indents, as you arched into his mouth with a sharp cry, the combination of emotion and way was brutual, short-circuiting your thoughts. this was forgiveness, punishment and pleasure at once.
you felt his tongue dip deep in you, a throbbing pulse. then, as it manuvered through your gummy walls, it found the spot that made you moan louder than usual. the heat rushing through you and walls fluttering around the sudden feeling. he was mercilessly thorough, his tongue stroking a slow deep path before curling.
you let out a sharp gasp from your throat as he pratically abused it, hsi tongue flattening and pressing against your g-spot until the sensation was almost too much pleasure.
"fuck," you moaned out, the words broken. "you— you're so good."
the praise rushed through him, your hand fisted in his hair, tugging harshly as he groaned against you. the vibrating sound travelling staight to your core, the pain fueling him even more. his efforts redoubled, his tongue working faster, more accureatly, his lips sealed around your clit to suck gently, then harder.
you felt him shift, you heard the rustle of the fabric. then you felt it, the thick, hard line of his erection against your foot. the choked, desperate moan he let out was muted by your cunt, but you felt that as well, the way it mingled with the friction of his tongue.
the senstation was relentless, the wet heat between your legs and the view of sunghoon under you, proof of his own arousal, pushed you to the edge. your hips began to move as if they had a mind of their own, meeting the rhythm of his mouth, your breath came in ragged sobs.
he was worshipping you, serving you as if he was made to, and getting off on your foot from the sheer act of it. the power was intoxication, one where you were both completely lost in the storm you created. your body twitched occasionally, your head hung low as you felt your orgasm approaching. "such a good boy for me—" you groaned, liquid spilling out of you and down your thigh in an instant.
sunghoon's mouth just there to catch it for you, not spilling a single drop. his hips slowly starting to move like a dog on your foot. moans and whimpers escaping his lips as he felt his own orgasm approaching fast.
your cheast heaved as you watched him, how pathetic he looked. the grip in his hair was more powerful than ever as his hips stuttered, cumming in his boxers. "good boy, came just for me, didn't you?" you mocked, stroking his hair like he your pet.
he whined at your praise, a high, needy sound you'd never heard from him before, leaning into your touch as his teeth grazed your inner thigh in a possessive bite. "yes, yes yes! 'm your good boy, doll, please…!" he cried, looking up at you with the most devastatingly earnest doe eyes you had ever seen.
you could feel the hard line of his cock straining and growing against his trousesrs, pressing into your foot. a low laugh escaping you, the sound of pure power. "eager, aren't we?"
"only for you, princess." he gasped, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary rock against your foot. "always for you."
"c'mere, baby," you hummed, voice dropping to a velvet command. your hands fisted in the crisp, ruined collar of his tuxedo shirt, and you pulled. he rose to his feet in one fluid, powerful motion, his body towering over you, all heat and trembling in his muscles.
but you didn't let him look. you pulled him down, your grip harsh, bringing him face level with yours. his breath came in pants, lips glossy and parted, his eyes dazed with a desperate hunger and surrender.
"let me ride you," you murmured, your nose brushing against his, the words a hot promise against his mouth. "right here, right now. you're going to be so good and let me take what i want, arent you?"
a shudder was visible against his body. he nodded, frantic, beyond words, as his large hands came to cradle your face with a frantic tension. "all yours," he choked out, the words sounding like a cry. "however you want me. however you need me. i'm all yours."
with a slow, wicked smile, you tighted your grip on his hand and pulled. he followed without any resistance, trailing him. you led him towards the cool leather sofa that you earlier sat on, thinking about the very guy you were about to fuck.
with a gentle yet firm push, he sank back onto it, his own eyes wide and dazed, fixated on you. you didn't hesitate, straddling his hips in on smooth motion, settling your weight directly over the growing hardness straining against his trousers.
a gasp escaped him, his hands flying down to your thighs to steady you, grip brusining in intensity. the damp heat of you, had left a dark stain on the wool, but his eyes never left your face. he didnt care about the fabric, the mess, anything,. he had you on him, around him, and that was where he'd only want to exist.
without a word, your gaze locked onto his, your hands slid down the hard planes of his stomach, fingers working quickly of his belt, the buckle obscenely loud. you pushed his trousers and boxers down in one swift efficient motion, with the aide of his hips, a silent yet desperate cooperation.
his cock sprang free, thick and flushed as it slapped against his stomach. beads of precum glistening against the night's light.
"aww," you giggled, the sound dark yet as sweet as honey. you hooked a finger, against his cock, letting it drag against your warm slit. making him jerk in an instant.
you leaned fowards, one hand braced on his shoulder, lips a breath away from his. "is this what you want?" you whispered, voice a promise. "to be quiet and take what he's given by me?"
he could only manage a ragged, choking nod, jaw clenched so hard the muscle ticked in his cheek. his eyes pools of pure need, all his earlier sobbing tears turned into ones of desire. he was absolutely beautiful like this, under you. pleading for you.
you kissed his cheek softly, before guiding his cock into you, the thickness of his tip already enough to make you feel the sting as you pushed down slowly. earning a moan from the both of you, how the heat of your walls wrapped around his cock and the way the pain stretched you.
it was one of the most intoxicating feelings you'd ever known. the solid weight of him underneath you, the way your body settled perfectly against his, that unmistakable, thrilling pressure in your lower belly.
your eyes drifted down, watching the subtle, undeniable shift of your stomach with a deep breath he took. a smirk, wicked and satisfied, touched your lips as you looked up at him through your lashes, feigning innocence.
"look at you," you purred, your own hips giving a tiny, deliberate roll, drawing a sharp, choked gasp from him. "filling me up just like the good boy you promised to be, yeah?"
he nodded rapidly, his eyes wide and dark, fixated on your face. the words seemed beyond him, the hands on your hips werent there to guide anymore, they were there to cling. his fingers pressed into the silk hard enough that you knew there would be marks there later, something to prove his desperation, his need to be good for you.
"ah, ah, ah. use your words, sunghoon," you whispered, leaning foward to brush your nose against his. "tell me."
a sharp inhale tore from him. "yes," he managed, the word strained. "yes. good boy. for you, only you."
the admission so raw and submissive, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. you captured his lips in a kiss filled of possession, swallowing his whimpers and the taste of salt from his earlier tears. he kissed you back with a helpless intensity, large hands trembling as they slid up your back, holding you to him as if you were the only thing in his world.
your hips rolled against his for one last time, until you lifted yourself up, almost completely, drawing a broken, needy sound from his throat. his grip on you tightened, not to force you back, but as a plea, not to let go.
and you answered it.
you slammed back down in a single, pistoned motion that punched the air from his lungs. a shattered moan was torn from him, head falling back to thud against the plush pillow behind him, eyes squeezing shit. his body had locked entirely, back arching at the way you repeatedly dropped down on him like it'd be the last thing you'd ride.
"look at me," you commanded, your own voice breathless.
his eyes flew open, glassy and overwhelmed with pleasure. they were dazed, worshipful, wrecked.
"see?" you breathed, beginning the ruthless thrusts down onto his cock, each lift a teasing promise of return. "this is what happens when you're good, you get to feel everything. you get to have this."
he could only nod, his ability to speak gone. his words weren't just narrowed anymore, but defined by this, by your punishing and sloppy thrusts onto his cock. but how you watched him come completely apart.
you felt his cock twitch inside of you, a sign he'd come soon. "don't." your voice warned, strong and raspy, making him whine and cry, fingers tightening. "wait for me, baby, okay?"
he could only nod, as he tried his best to hold it in. his cock twitched as your movement became faster, a hand going to rub your clit softly for a faster orgasm, stomach and walls clenching around his cock. "feels good, yeah?" you moaned, biting your lips.
"yesyesyes, so good—!" he cried, waiting for your command.
your hips stuttered as you let out a loud wail, a gush of strong liquid seeping down onto him, walls clenching him tightly that he couldn't even wait, his own cock twitching as he shot ropes of white cum inside of you. your juices mixed, as his hands tightened and bruised your waist.
after a quick second of silence, which felt like forever, you looked up at his dazed face, tears streaming down, lips puffy and red, and chest heaving softly.
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Context: dry humping, first time for everything, re-edit minors dni
A/N: Written and re-edited before the news of the ORV physical copy came out, so I am happy to share this
“Get out of your head.” You heard him say. Shifting out of your mind to who was speaking to you, you noticed the proximity between the two of you had gotten shorter, Joonghyuk kneeling in front of you, only inches away from your face, “Or I will do it for you.” He said in a low tone, not in a threatening way, but in a way that wouldn’t cause your focus to be somewhere else, which couldn’t be anyways.
Taking a moment, you breathed in him and exhaled a part of yourself. There was a moment that you couldn’t believe what was happening in front of you, but it’s something that you are craving right now, it’s something that you want more of.
You leaned into him with your eyes closed until your foreheads touched. Joonghyuk didn’t move away from your motion, but allowed it, as if he wanted something like this to happen, but it’s so hard to get a read on someone like him.
Yet, it feels like you’ve known him all your life.
“You might have to.” You answered hopefully, hoping that the two of you were thinking and wanting the same thing. Hoping that you two can have another dance but finally without your swords.
There was a moment where it felt like time froze around the both of you. You can’t tell if he felt it as well but knowing him, you think he did. Although you thought you may have been wrong about his true intentions, until you felt his lips meet yours.
The uncomfortable unfamiliarity hits you immediately, from the weird feeling of another person's lips on yours, the sudden thought of where to put your hands, but the feelings quickly fade as you melted against Joonghyuk. For someone who is so rigid all the time, the way he kisses is different, yet shows his personality and who he is.
His lips didn’t move much, only placing a few pecks on yours, a sign for trusting, before he gradually became comfortable, parting his lips to yours again, a sign for trusting you completely.
Your arms automatically went around his neck, you leaning more into him as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands spreading on your back. You could feel him get on his knees while one of his hands went to your lower back, that you figured was to guide you onto the grass under you as you got deeper into the kiss.
Quickly, you pulled back and shook your head. “I don’t want to get grass in my hair.”
Joongyhuk looked at you for a moment, not surprised by your order before he removed his arm from around you. You watched him as he quickly took his jacket and hooked the nape of it onto your head. You took a moment to reach your hands up to the jacket and make sure all your hair was under it before you looked back up at Joonghyuk and nodded for him to continue.
His hand went back to where it was on your back as if it never left. He started to guide you down onto the grass and you allowed the guidance, like you are allowing him to take the lead for a dance you didn’t know how to do, which isn’t that much.
Your back, covered by the jacket, landed onto the ground under you. You could feel the cold and wet grass that was previously stamped by your feet. You tried to relax yourself into the ground as Joonghyuk hovered over you. He shifted where he was in between your legs and lowered himself onto you. Wrapping your arms around him, you push yourself up to meet him in a kiss.
The kiss was still a bit rough like the first, though there was a soothing feeling that was coming from it. Something that causes you to get the warm feelings in your core and it slowly spreads to the rest of your body. His hands were, at first, clinging to their sides, as if he didn’t know what to do with them, and now, he’s slowly rubbing his hands up the sides of your hips, waist, chest and then back down. Gradually, all the experience that he had gained from his different regressions are seeping out and onto you.
You giggled a bit through the kiss, feeling a little ticklish as the kiss became more sensual the longer you did it. By now the kiss went from simple lip kissing, getting to each other to more open, and more in sync kiss, slow, yet passionate, it is an experience. Never would you have thought that Yoo Joonghyuk was a decent kisser yet here you are, feeling your tongues connect then release, your heads tilt to the opposite sides and your tongues connect again. There was an overwhelming shock from feeling his tongue at first, yet you didn’t back away because of it. Something about this just makes you want more and more.
Apparently, Joonghyuk is feeling it too, with how his hands went down to your thighs with a bit of a pinch before he pulled them around his waist more, locking himself in between your legs. You moaned slightly when you felt him grind against your area and groaned when you felt him through his pants. Just simple kisses can turn this man on easily? Good to know.
So with his hands still on the back of your thighs, holding them in place as he grinded again, groaning slightly into your. You sighed, grinding back and pulling away from the kiss to breathe - but it got stuck in your throat. Immediately, your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you felt an impact on your lower half, making your underwear become sticky to you. You didn’t realize until it happened once again to know what Joongyuk was doing.
Cursing lightly, he placed his face into your neck, dry humping you after hearing and seeing your reaction. You felt him slowly begin to bite and suck on random places on your neck while he continued. You closed your eyes, tightening your grip on the back of his shirt and moaning again at the unfamiliar sensation. This is like adults that never experienced sex before doing it for the first time… and this is exactly what it is. Joonghyuk couldn’t help but see himself in this same position, sinking his cock into you, bottoming out, nothing about you or him changed, in fact, the only thing that did change is you both having no clothes on, and he could see himself moving in and out of you just like this.
New feelings, new emotions, new expressions came out of nowhere that neither one had ever felt with someone before. Even though nothing is in one another, just the feeling of the act was enough for the moment. Just imagining being pounded into a bed or even choked is undeniable, but for now, this was enough.
“Joo-” You moaned out, moving your grip from his back to his arms as he moved to the other side of your neck, not even slowing down on the dry humping which you would never tell him to.
Joonghyuk groaned in response and after finishing his creation of hickeys on you, he placed his forehead on yours. You held eye contact as his repetitive fast humping pattern became a different pattern. It went a bit slower, medium pace, and in between some thrusts, then he grinded. Hard. He could see himself thrusting in and out of you, his dick appearing and disappearing with no end in sight, with his hips meeting yours, creating an alluring sound that he couldn’t help but groan out to, feeling his cum wetting his boxers.
He watched your expression change as you could only gasp when Joonghyuk grinded into you again, you sucked in deep breaths afterwards. When and how did Joonghyuk learn this? It feels like being fucked in a wet dream or something.
You couldn’t help yourself but curse before moving your head over to his neck. A bit of uncertainty was felt from him but you could feel it go away when you bit him. Joonghyuk groaned in your neck, muffling his noises, as you did the same. Your way of muffling though involved his earlier attack on their neck of love bites and hickeys any places that you could reach.
Joonghyuk heard you gasp into his neck when you felt something coming about your core. Your stomach clenching and twisting in a way that was unfamiliar to you, but also in a way that you knew you were close. You bit hard on one of the places on his neck, tightening your grip on his upper arms.
“Are you close?” Joonghyuk asks you, practically groaning out in your ear.
You didn’t respond verbally, which he didn’t expect you to do, except with a nod against his neck, continuing with the love bites, causing Joonghyuk to groan loudly as he continued imagining himself thrusting into you, continuing imagining his cum leaking out of you. When you felt like you were done, you pulled back enough to meet eyes with him.
You repeated the question back to him. He nods.
Unsure of what to really do next, you leaned up and kissed him again, your tongue slipping past his lips to connect and intwine again like before. And while the kiss was going, you steadied yourself and thrusted up to meet him, so it won’t be just Joonghyuk doing everything. A choking sound came from him that caused him to lose his momentum, his hands that were on your thighs slid off and landed on the grass, gripping the dirt tightly in a sudden, his imagination ending immediately as he almost came right then and there. Even though his eyes were closed, they rolled to the back of his head in sudden arousal, something that he didn’t expect.
Placing his hand on your hips, he picks back up his momentum with a low growl coming out from his throat, imagining in his head that he was thrusting into your gaping hole that was screaming for him, instead of the clothes acting as barriers between the two of you. With no more words needed, you came first and then he, after a few more thrusts, came afterwards.
You both came in your clothes which probably isn’t the most sanitary or hygienic of places to orgasm in, but at least there wasn’t a possibility of catching a case for this being their first times, or even catching something in the trying times like this.
The passionate and slow kiss never ended until after you both came, finally releasing each other. You breathed heavily against the ground while looking at Joonghyuk breathing, a bit out of breath, yet as if this was some regular sword fight.
“What kind of stamina do you have?” You questioned Joonghyuk, breathing heavily in between each word.
The swordsman stared at you with flushed cheeks. “Obviously a lot more than you do.”
You are both the most diligent worker at Sakamoto's Store and the most hypersexual person that Shin knows. Overhearing your thoughts and accidentally seeing your fantasies routinely leads to profound psychic damage for him, as well as the most poorly timed boners in the world.
All of this only gets worse when the two of you start hooking up.
6k words. comedy, smut. all the sex scenes are vanilla; however, the reader constantly reads and thinks about horny fanfiction tropes including: free use, omegaverse, and breeding. these are all mentioned but not discussed in detail. warning: the reader has a warped/unhealthy relationship with her sexuality, this fic is about shin fixing her with his stroke game lol. credits to @/cafekitsune for the dividers and @hansolen for the fic brainrot <3
You are the worst coworker that Shin has ever had.
This is saying a lot, given that he's worked with countless two-bit assassins who could barely a handle a gun (no one he worked with in his late teenage years could hold a candle to Mr. Sakamoto, truly), as well as Lu, who can barely orient herself within the store. You are, in contrast, brutally efficient with your work, incredible with the customers, and very cooperative with Shin. You even know how to handle a gun, and you do it with such pinpoint precision that it's always nonlethal despite being brutally debilitating. (Your skill level does hold a candle to Mr. Sakamoto in this respect, and Shin wonders if his boss has given you some kind of private training—a thought that fills him with such jealousy that it makes him want to chew on the sale stickers in his hands.) There's just one problem.
You are probably the horniest person alive, and Shin is about to lose his fucking mind listening to your thoughts.
Now, Shin is used to hearing the unfiltered stream of consciousness of the average human being. This naturally includes carnal desires here and there. He’s desensitized to most people’s erotic fantasies about their favourite gravure idol, memories of their last sexual encounter, intrusive thoughts about their friends, et cetera. He habitually tunes it out. But whereas a regular person might have these thoughts once or twice a day, you seem to have them once or twice an hour. And none of your thoughts are ever brief or underdeveloped. They usually last at least ten minutes each, with detailed internal monologuing and accompanying 8K UltraHD visuals, and you really only ever stop when you're trying to remember a code at the till or doing some quick mental math with the accounts.
Needless to say, Shin tries to keep you at the register as much as possible.
You used to tell yourself (in your head) that your mental fixation on sex was a natural consequence of your dry spell. After quitting the assassin life, you'd been celibate for the first time in at least a decade, forced to attain sexual gratification with nothing but masterfully written fanfiction and your vast collection of vibrators. (Your favourite one is hot pink, seven inches, rabbit eared. You sometimes have trouble getting it to fit, but it’s worth it for the way you cum when you do, and this knowledge makes Shin want to die.) You were convinced that getting laid would bring you enough relief to stop thinking about sex every hour of the day. You had thought that you'd go back to “normal” after that, though Shin doesn't know what “normal” entails for you. (One free-use fantasy a day instead of twelve? Daydreams strictly featuring humans rather than tentacle monsters? It's hard to say.)
Regardless, Shin had to agree: surely, there would be a limit to your sex-obsessed thoughts. It made a lot of sense that you were simply frustrated and in need of an outlet. Naturally, after sleeping with you, he'd expected your thoughts to quiet down.
(Yes—Shin slept with you. It was an accident, through and through, and he routinely feels bad about it. He'd been meaning to ask you out, treat you to dinner, maybe even get you flowers depending on the vibe. The type of thing that Mr. Sakamoto did for Aoi, when they first started dating. If everything went well, then you two could consider getting intimate. His interest in you has nothing to do with sex, after all—no, not even the fact that you've had explicit fantasies about deepthroating him while he works the cash. He'd die if you ever tried that, actually.
The plan was always to take things slow and maybe even start a relationship if the two of you really hit it off. He'd even asked Mr. Sakamoto for advice on what a civilian romance should look like! But then Shin walked you back to your apartment one night when you were feeling down, and you invited him upstairs, and one thing led to another, and, well… it turns out that you aren't the type of person to take things slow. Or think about relationships. Shin’s never overheard any thoughts from you about actually dating him, come to think of it. And no, before you ask—that doesn't bother him. Not at all. Not one bit.)
To both his surprise and yours, getting laid somehow had the opposite effect on you. Rather than being calmed, you're somehow even hornier—and now all your horny thoughts are about Shin.
It's nonstop. Shin can't believe it. Whereas you used to think about all sorts of people in your sexual fantasies (mostly your fanfiction men, but also some BL characters, occasionally Keanu Reeves, and very often that Nagumo guy), you now think solely of Shin. You're thinking about him right now, pausing as you finish restocking the onigiri.
Shin can hear every single thought from across the room, the way you feel the edges of your sanity fraying with the memory of his touch. The whole day, you've been remembering how it felt to have your pussy stretched around his cock, how it felt to have his hands on your curves, how he seemed to know exactly how to touch your body to make you keen. (Shin admits he cheated; a little ESP goes a long way in bed.) You soaked the sheets when you finally came, and he kissed you relentlessly through your orgasm. It made you so horny that you had to immediately go another round.
No other man’s ever made you cum like that, you keep thinking. You've fucked more people than you can count, but not a single person has ever felt so good inside you. The realisation is driving you crazy, and Shin feels like he's about to go crazy with you. In the absence of a cold shower, he wants to shove himself into the freezer right now. There's no other way to get rid of his raging boner.
How did it feel so fucking good?! you keep thinking, oblivious to his struggles. I need his cock inside me again. I need him to hit it raw this time. I need him to bend me over the counter and cum in my pussy right now—
It makes him want to die, listening to your thoughts. It also confuses him, somewhat: he isn't that experienced, and objectively he’s a little clumsy in bed. His performance is probably mid in the grand scheme of things, which makes him wonder why you feel like his dick is heaven-sent.
But more than anything, Shin wonders if you ever think about anything other than his dick. Sex isn't the only thing the two of you have done together. The first time you hooked up, he'd spent the night at your place. You clung to him in his sleep and you drooled on his chest and he thought it was kinda funny. He was careful not to wake you as he wiped your chin. You’d cooked him breakfast by the time he'd woken up: homemade miso, fresh rice, tamagoyaki. He made you burnt coffee after. You gave him a goodbye kiss, which somehow turned into a goodbye blowjob, which then escalated into wasting the day together in bed. You were really cuddly the whole time, and Shin could hear you think, how weird, I hate it when people hold me, and I hate it when people kiss me, but you liked it from Shin. You liked it so much that your pussy started dripping, and then what else could you do but suck him off again? (He returned the favour, of course.)
There was a lot more than just fucking, but you never think about any of that other stuff. You only ever think about his stroke game.
Not that that bothers Shin. Not at all. Not one bit.
By noon, he reaches his limit.
Shin considers himself a responsible guy and dedicated employee. He'd ordinarily never want to take off in the middle of the day to fool around with you—or anyone else—but it's his lunch break, and he has to get you to stop fantasizing. His dick is so hard that it's painful, and even with the apron it's getting tricky to cover up. As soon as the clock hits 12, he's throwing it off and making a beeline for you.
“We need to talk,” he says, grabbing you by the hand, and the face you make is so giddy that he can't help but sigh. You’re practically beaming as you take off your apron and say bye to Lu. We’ll be back in 30! you tell her in a sing-song voice, because you’re a very conscientious worker even when outrageously horny.
“You heard my thoughts?” you ask as the two of you climb the stairs to his room, and he snorts.
“How couldn't I?” He gives you a miserable look, cheeks flushing. “Were you doing that on purpose the whole morning?”
“No.” He raises a brow. “I'm serious—I wasn't trying to cause any trouble for you! It's just…” You bite your lip, and it takes all of Shin’s self-control to stop himself from staring at its glossy sheen. “I really just need to be touched again.”
“I don't believe you,” he says as he pulls you into his room.
“You're an esper! You should know I'm telling the truth!”
“I also know you like to torture me with your thoughts.”
“Well, yeah…” You smile at him, sheepish. “But I really just need a bit of relief. Want me to prove it to you?”
There's a sudden glint in your eye that makes Shin nervous, out of his depth. Sometimes he gets the feeling that you want to eat him alive, and he never knows how to handle it. He’s never gotten this level of attention before, and never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd get it from someone like you.
(Yeah—you're way out of Shin's league. For all his plans of a civilian romance, he wasn’t sure if he could actually score a date with you. He still isn't sure if he can score one. He's also not sure he’ll survive this encounter.)
He swallows. “Prove it…?”
“Uh huh.” You look so pretty right now, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Let me show you.”
You read too much hentai. Shin knows this firsthand (you read a lot of it on the clock, and all the images get blasted right into his prefrontal cortex), but he can also tell from how you act. It’s just way too fucking outrageous when you spread your legs for him, pulling up your skirt, and he's greeted not by the sight of your panties (you wore a lacy pair to work and kept bending over in hopes of flashing him—you had not been shy at all in this thought), but your bare, glistening cunt.
No fucking way.
“You’ve been working like that?!” he blurts out, mildly horrified even though his dick is jumping at the sight of you. You laugh, and you conjure up your panties from somewhere. They dangle from your fingertips, sheer and drenched.
“Took them off as we came up here. They're useless now anyway, see”—they’ve been soaked through for hours, and my thighs are all sticky—“and besides… I wanted to give you easy access.”
He thinks he's going to pass out.
“Easy access,” he repeats stiffly, bright red.
“Uh huh. Wanted to be efficient—we only have, what, twenty minutes?” Before he can even react, you're already turning around, bending over for him, ass up. From this angle, he can see just how wet you are—and how you're clenching around nothing, your cunt empty and needing to be filled. You glance over your shoulder, give him a teasing smile. “What are you waiting for?”
It’s a wonder that Shin doesn't cum on the spot, really. Like he said—he isn't an experienced guy. He's never slept with anyone so forward, or so—well. Smoking hot, for lack of better word. Half of him has a mind to just stand there and say that he can't believe you, and half of him has a mind to fuck you like you've been hoping all morning. Thankfully, this latter half of him wins out—probably for the better. If he helps you work this out of your system, you'll probably stop assaulting his mind with all your horny thoughts and his dick can exist in peace for the rest of the afternoon. Right?
Right?
(He ends up being extremely wrong.)
By the time he's pulled down his pants, put a condom on, and started pushing inside you, the two of you have seventeen minutes left. He worries briefly that it won't be enough time to get you to cum (nor him, though that isn't his goal currently), but it turns out to be a non-issue. Your pussy swallows his cock easily, stretching around him so perfectly that he nearly chokes. He always hears you talking about how sex with him feels leagues better than with any other person, but he’s not sure if you know that the same is true for him. No one's ever felt as good as you, and it takes every ounce of willpower in him not to cum immediately.
You're already close to the edge, too. Probably pent up from squeezing your thighs together all morning and thinking about his touch. You moan in a way that is obscene, like something out of an AV—but Shin knows that it isn't a performance. He can feel your body and hear your thoughts, all the genuine bliss you get from being filled up. When he starts moving, it's with intent. He fucks you like you’ve been fantasising all day, all week—with a relentless pace, focused on giving you nothing but pleasure. You tighten around him like you were made for him, and—
—apparently you feel like you're being used? Like a hole? The fuck! Shin almost stops mid-stroke to balk at you—he wouldn't do that to you!—but then you moan and he feels you getting wetter at the thought, and then he has no choice but to keep going. He's not about to kill your high.
Nine minutes left. Your clit is throbbing, neglected, and as soon as you think about touching yourself, Shin’s fingers are circling it instead and making you keen. He hits the spot inside you that has your eyes rolling back and your spine arching beautifully, and you can’t speak with your mouth, but he hears you anyway: the begging, the neediness, right there right there you're doing so good Shin you feel so good don't stop don't stop don't, don't—
“Oh fuck,” you whimper, pressing your face into the sheets, and then Shin feels you pulsing around him, drenching him. He gets dragged over the edge with you, gasping sharply as he finds his own release. You collapse as he twitches inside you, spilling himself inside the condom, and he almost snorts when he hears you thinking, wish you were cumming in my pussy instead. Do it raw next time, okay?
“You know we have to use a condom,” he says between pants.
“But I'm on birth control! Read my mind—you know I'm telling the truth!”
“And I also know that birth control is only 93% effective,” he says, rolling his eyes. He glances at the clock. “C'mon—we only have five minutes until our lunch break ends.”
It feels a little weird, rushing you. He’s never had a quickie before, but he understands that you can't exactly take your time with cleaning up afterwards. Still, he thinks about what it was like the last time the two of you did this—how slow and soft it was after, how he stayed inside you for a bit, how he kissed you long and cleaned you up carefully. It just felt like the right thing to do after sleeping with someone, especially given that that someone was you. He'd much prefer to do that right now.
But you are both punctual workers, and anyway Shin’s heard enough of your idle thoughts to know that you’re fairly apathetic to aftercare—you never expect it, and you’re never particularly sad when you don't get it. Sometimes you even fantasize about being used roughly and then discarded (a thought that he finds so unpleasant that it instantly kills his boner every time).
So it's probably fine to rush back downstairs, he figures. He throws you some wipes, lets you clean yourself up. You do it without complaint. You're not upset. He can even hear your mind humming with satisfaction, coming down from the highs of sensory pleasure.
Which is why he's confused when he hears you think, Huh. That didn't feel as good as I thought it would.
It's not like it felt bad.
This is what Shin hears all afternoon: You had a good time. You generally like being treated like a hole. You hadn't thought that Shin would have it in him to do that (neither did he, he admits), but it was kind of thrilling that he did. You want him to do it again for sure. He hit your g-spot with the kind of precision that only an esper can manage, and your vision nearly went white as you found your climax.
And that's what matters, right? You came. You had an orgasm. The little death. The ultimate goal of sex. You used to have a hard time with it, but after so many missions your body started to enjoy sex and now you cum very easily. And you came very easily with Shin, so that means you must enjoy having sex with him too, right?
But it was better the first time you had sex. Objectively better. You came way harder. You even squirted during your second round with him! Your orgasm was so intense that you felt blissed out for the rest of the night, and even the morning after. When you woke up and realised that Shin was not only still there, but also holding you, it made you so horny that you nearly woke him up with a blowjob. It was only with great self-control that you woke him up with breakfast instead.
You don’t feel like that right now, though. You don't feel horny and you don't feel like cooking and the euphoria of your orgasm melted away a while ago. You just feel sort of… empty.
You don't feel bad, though. It's a beautiful day. The char siu bao in your hand is incredibly fragrant. Piisuke is on your shoulder and chirping in your ear. Shin looks really handsome in his apron—did you know that, Shin? you ask him in your mind—and he goes bright red at this thought and looks away. You don't feel bad, you mentally reassure him. You just don't feel as good as you thought you would.
But Shin does feel bad. He feels miserable, actually. He's not a very experienced guy, but even he can tell that you’re the type of person who needs to be held after having sex. It seems like you probably don't realise it, but it's clear as day to Shin, and for the rest of the afternoon he hates himself for not having done it. It wouldn’t have had to be for very long.
Lu could have covered for an extra fifteen minutes, he keeps thinking. Fuck!
Eventually, you ask him to come over in the evening, and he scrambles to agree, desperate for a do-over.
Shin’s not really good at this hook-up business.
Now—he isn't exactly good at relationships either, but he feels exceptionally awkward about coming over to your place with the express purpose of having sex. He isn't familiar with dick appointment etiquette, especially not appointments involving a friend. Was he meant to bring a gift? A Netflix movie recommendation? It would have felt wrong to show up completely empty-handed, so he ends up bringing your favourite snacks and two bottles of Pocari Sweat. If this is anything like the first time he stayed over, you'll probably both need it.
You're delighted by the snacks and amused by the drinks. He wrestles with himself over what kind of small-talk to make—there’s a PS5 out right now, and your TV screen is paused on Leon Kennedy’s face, so maybe he can start a conversation about the horror genre? He watches a lot of films—but you're dragging him into your room before he can overthink it.
“I missed you,” you say, voice all sweet with affection as you straddle his lap.
“It's been two hours,” he points out, somehow managing not to stammer.
“Eight hours since we fucked.”
“That's not very long at all.”
“Felt like forever to me.” Your whisper is so tender in his ear, incongruent with the absolute filth you're thinking about right now. You need his cock so, so bad—you’d have it inside you 24/7 if you could have it your way, though he's also free to help himself to your body at any hour of the day. Sure, he can't smoke on the premises, but there's no rule against hiking up your skirt and pushing your panties to the side so he can—
“I wouldn't do that in the store!” he squawks, and you giggle.
“Then you should start taking me up to your room more often.”
Shin would be more than happy to host you, actually. He’s been thinking lately about having you over for dinner—Aoi’s been teaching him how to cook—and getting to know you better, in a non-Biblical way. But Shin knows that's not what you mean. You want him to carry you upstairs without asking and to throw you onto his bed and to fuck you into the mattress. You want to go back to your shift without your panties, his cum dripping out of your pussy and sliding down your—
“You really want me to finish inside you,” Shin remarks, bewildered at your sheer obsession over it, and you tilt your head.
“Don't you?”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean—we shouldn't. It's, uh. Risky. I don't want to get you, y'know… pregnant…” His dick twitches in a way that makes him grateful that you don't have ESP. He's realising something about himself that he absolutely cannot think about, and which you would absolutely exploit if you figured out. He clears his throat, hoping he looks normal. “Like. You know. It's better to be on the safe side.”
You study him carefully. “I dunno, Shin.” You smile knowingly. “I don't think I'd mind it if you wanted to breed me.”
Shin is going to die.
The next twenty minutes pass in a horny blur. The two of you spend it all over each other, his cock sliding along your opening—dangerously close to pushing in. You beg him for just the tip, both verbally and mentally—pleaaase Shin please please please it'd be so easy, I'm still stretched out from before, you know it'd feel good—and he's watched enough adult films to know that this is a blatant trap. He somehow pulls away, and immediately feels bad at the crushed expression you make, so he decides he has no choice but to make it up to you by putting his head between your thighs. Within minutes he’s sucking on your clit and making you keen, his fingers curling inside you. He knows your orgasm is intense both from the way you gush all over his face and how your mind goes pleasantly, blissfully quiet for a moment.
It doesn't stay quiet for long.
The most debauched image possible comes to his mind—you, underneath him, your legs folded into a mating press as you take his cock. He’s giving you another load, pumping you full. It's filling up your womb, and you'll definitely get pregna—
“You’re fucking evil,” he groans. “And you read way too much hentai. Those visuals were so goofy.”
You laugh, unbothered. “Sorry, I'll adjust them for realism next time.”
“Please don't,” he begs, even though he knows he's going to spend the next week being mentally assaulted by your breeding kink fantasies. He just hopes they stay relatively normal and don't devolve into the weird omegaverse stuff. Or the monsterfucking stuff. Or the gangbang scenarios. Please, God, anything but the gangbang fantasies. He’ll scream if you imagine another threesome with him and that invisible asshole who kidnapped Lu. He’ll simply resign if you add Nagumo.
To your profound disappointment, Shin ends up using a condom. He doesn't give you much time to feel sad about it, settling quickly between your legs and practically knocking the breath out of you as he thrusts into you. He’s left kind of breathless too. You weren't lying—you are still stretched out from earlier in the day, wet and pliant for him, and there's hardly any resistance as he starts pumping into you. He watches you carefully, laid out underneath him—your eyes squeezing shut as you're made to take his cock. Your mind goes a little quiet again, overwhelmed by pleasure. It's simultaneously a blessing and a curse: Shin’s finally getting a break from your psychic teasing, but the knowledge that he's fucking you dumb is doing something horrible to him.
He changes his angle, and a whimper leaves you. You tighten and gush around him in a way that makes it obvious what he’s hitting; he doesn't need ESP to know to keep doing it. Still, your thoughts are going haywire, a tangle of desire, and it's impossible for him to ignore. I need, he keeps hearing as your thighs starts to twitch, as you start tearing up, I need I need I need I need—
Your eyes land on his lips, and Shin hears you.
His kiss is open-mouthed, clumsy, but you’re hungry for it anyway. You’re panting into each other’s mouths when you start pulsing around Shin’s dick, and you end up cumming so hard on his cock that it's dizzying for you both. He fucks you through your orgasm, and it's only when you're glassy-eyed and limp beneath him that he finally lets himself finish. He pulls back as he does, gasping sharply, but not for long—you draw him back in quickly, clinging to him as you seek out another kiss. The two of you stay like that for a long moment—still connected, breaths heavy with exhaustion, lips slow and lazy against each other.
“Enjoy yourself more this time?” Shin asks, and you hum sweetly against his mouth. You’re still too mindless from your orgasm to form any real thoughts, but Shin can tell that you don't really want to talk. You want to keep kissing him. And you want him to hold you while you do it, which he happily obliges.
Some ten minutes later, you make a small noise of protest when Shin pulls out of you, and it turns into a look of outright betrayal when he gets up. Shin’s heart clenches immediately.
“Just getting stuff to clean up,” he explains, and you relax visibly.
“Oh,” you say. “Right.”
You seem antsy. You feel antsy. You're antsy because you just realised how much you like kissing Shin. Specifically, you've realised that kissing him elevates your orgasms into mind-blowing experiences, and now you're questioning every other orgasm you've had. Maybe I don't actually enjoy sex that much? you wonder. Or maybe I always needed to be kissed to enjoy it more? Wait, no. I hate it when people kiss me. It's gross. Except for when it's Shin. Why Shin? Hm… that apron must really be doing something for me.
Your head hurts. Shin patiently watches you replay your past experiences in your head, comparing all those nights with this one, and he can’t help but frown. Deeply. Your eyes go wide when he gives you an alarmed look at one particular memory.
“Shit, sorry! I forgot you’d see all that.”
“No, I'm sorry,” he says, feeling—not for the first time—guilty about his powers. “If I could turn it off, I would.”
“Don't be sorry. You can't help it. That'd be like if I were sorry for breathing.” But despite your easy words, you’re watching him carefully, and your mind is stirring in an unsettling way. I'm nervous? you realise. Your heart is beating in a way that suggests a flight or fight response. It gets worse the longer you stare at him. Why am I nervous? Tell me, Shin.
“I wouldn't know.” Except he’s got a good guess, and he'd rather die than say it out loud because it would be embarrassing for you both if he were wrong. He'd have to resign. Nevertheless, he tries to guide you in a specific direction: “Have you really never liked it when people kissed you?”
“No,” you reply immediately. “I don't see the point of kissing during sex.”
He gives you a long look. “What if it’s not just sex? What if it's just a regular kiss on a regular day with, like, a partner? Someone you're really serious about.” He blinks at the confused stare you're giving him. “You mean you don't like that either?”
It's suddenly very noisy. Shin can hear your mind buzzing as you stare at the ceiling of your room, not with coherent sentences so much as shapeless confusion. His skin crawls with the echo of your discomfort; it's a wonder you aren't slipping out from the sheets to run away.
“...I don't know,” you finally decide. “I don't have much real dating experience.”
“Huh? You’ve said before that you've dated lots of guys.”
“Um.” You’re careful not to look at him. “Yeah, I guess. They all sucked though. I, like, wanted to kill every single one of my exes.”
“Like they were shitty boyfriends?”
No, like they were assassination targets, you think, and Shin has to keep a straight face as you reply, “Yeah, something like that.”
You rarely lie to Shin. You did it somewhat frequently until you figured out that he was capable of ESP, and then you stopped because you didn't see a point anymore. You only do it now when there's something you really don't want to talk about, so Shin relents. He focuses on cleaning himself up, and he interrupts the tense hum of your thoughts when he turns his attention to you. By the time he's finished and slid back into bed, your more complicated emotions have vanished, and you're back to marveling at the quality of the orgasm you just had. Apparently you like to keep things fairly simple in your inner world.
When Shin puts an arm around you, he can hear your pleasant surprise—and your immediate desire to press into him.
You're so happy just being held by him, it's shocking. And painfully endearing. Shin tries to pretend not to notice the warm glow of your thoughts, as well as your confusion over them: surely the simple act of being close to someone can't feel so good. Maybe the whole kissing thing was just a coincidence and Shin happened to be hitting it just right when your lips met. Or maybe he used his ESP on you to make you cum extra hard and he's still influencing you, and that's why you feel so tenderhearted right now.
“My powers only allow me to read minds,” he tells you. “I can't control other people.”
“Aw,” you say, “that's too bad. I bet forced orgasms with ESP would feel amazing.”
“...”
Shin realises something else about himself that he absolutely cannot let you know. Thankfully for him, you're none the wiser. Your mind’s somewhere else entirely when you climb on top of him, smiling neatly. Mind you, what you're thinking is still making him feel nervous. He's always a little out of his depth with you.
“Shin…”
You lean in, breath sweeping over his lips. His heart jumps.
“Y-yeah?”
“I'm still confused about how that felt so good.”
“I’ve noticed.”
You hold back a laugh. “Yeah, I guess you would have.” Then you give him an apologetic look. “Sorry I'm so stuck on it. I just thought I knew my body, y'know? I felt like I had tried everything worth trying. Sex was starting to feel boring, including the freaky stuff. But this is very new to me.”
This close up, Shin can feel the brush of your lashes when they flutter. See the glossy swell of your lips from all the kissing. Take in the fragrance of your hair. He starts to feel dizzy. “I-is it? I don't think we've been doing anything, uh. Crazy.”
“I didn't think so either.” Your thumb traces his lip. You're thinking about kissing him again, and you're also thinking about riding him as you do it. “I can't help but want to try it a few more times, you know? Just to make sure it wasn't a fluke.”
“A few more times,” he repeats, and you smile.
“You don't have anywhere you need to be tonight, do you?”
The two of you get two hours of sleep that night, and you end up going through both bottles of Pocari Sweat and all the snacks. There's no time for breakfast or burnt coffee the morning after; you make the executive decision to just eat something at the store instead. Shin leaves behind a toothbrush and you tell him he should also bring an extra set of clothes next time. He tries not to get too excited about the fact that there's going to be a next time. He fails.
Mr. Sakamoto sees the two of you as you make it to work just on time together and immediately figures out what's happened. Shin gets a mental reprimand for not marrying you first, and the disappointment from Mr. Sakamoto is so strong that he briefly considers resigning out of disgrace. But he stays on, and the days pass, and your relationship with him remains the same. Sort of.
Because, see. Now that you're regularly getting laid, your horny thoughts have finally (finally!) calmed down. You now have one free-use fantasy a day instead of twelve, and your daydreams only occasionally feature tentacle monsters. You do like to torture Shin with breeding kink scenarios, but that's only once a day, and they never involve any other guys. Shin considers this a victory, respite from the psychic agony that he was previously experiencing.
There's just one problem.
You want to kiss Shin all the time now, and it's making him feel like the horniest person alive.
He can't believe it. He doesn't have a particularly strong sex drive, and he rarely ever has sexual fantasies. But holy shit is he having them a lot now, and he can't say it's strictly your fault.
You spend most of the day now thinking about what it felt like to kiss him in bed, and what it felt like to hold his hand as he moved inside you, and what it felt like to be in his arms afterwards. What it would feel like if you were to do those things that you used to hate—kissing someone, linking fingers, embracing them—with Shin. Not just in bed, but on a regular day, out in the open. In a secluded park somewhere, or maybe at the top of a Ferris wheel, or even on a random street corner if the mood is right. All of these daydreams are usually followed by very explicit fantasies about public, unprotected sex, but the kissing is the most important part of it. The subsequent creampies are pretty significant too, but not nearly as much as the bits where you make out.
And somehow, the thought of cumming in you is not the part of the fantasy that's driving Shin crazy.
You give him a meaningful look. A week ago, this would have been a sign that you wanted him to bend you over the counter and give you backshots. Now it means you want to sneak away to kiss him and hold hands, and this makes him want to do things to you that would get him fired immediately.
Shin sighs, and he contemplates shoving himself into the freezer.
END
I wrote this with one hand and did not proofread it. my apologies if you see any errors. I just needed to be free of these thoughts asap. release me...
PS - I know the Resident Evil/Leon Kennedy mention must have felt very random, but it's set-up for potential future sequels haha.
