恋の予感

Sunghoon carefully places his Canon camera on the small pile of books on the nightstand. You told him to just use his phone, but he insisted the camera had better focus and quality.

"All set." He says after adjusting the camera to an angle that captures almost the entire bed. "It’s recording."

"This feels weird, Hoon." You’re already lying on the bed, nervously playing with the hem of your tank top, feeling watched. "It’s just a camera, but I feel like millions of people are staring at me."

He chuckles softly as he sits beside you on the bed. "You said we could do it, baby…" His hand slides up your bare thigh. Your shorts had already been discarded a while ago.

"We can, but…"

The idea of recording sex had originally come from Sunghoon. He mentioned it casually after one of your sessions — you were still trembling and breathless — and he asked if it was okay. Just to be sure, he brought it up again later, not wanting to pressure you. He only wanted to make sure you were truly comfortable.

Even though you felt unsure and knew it would be strange the first time, you didn’t hesitate. You were curious. Sunghoon always praised you during sex, telling you how beautiful you looked and how well you took him. You wanted to see what he saw. The idea was hot.

"You know no one but us is ever going to see the final video." His fingers now trace circles on the inside of your thighs, moving slowly upward, getting closer and closer to your covered core.

A shiver runs down your spine, your body already reacting to his touch."I know, I just feel embarrassed."

The corner of his mouth lifts into a mischievous smile. "Is my poor baby embarrassed?" Finally, his fingers brush against your already wet pussy through your panties."Relax for me, baby."

You swallow hard and try to close your thighs, pressing them together, but he doesn’t let you. He grabs your thigh with his other hand and spreads your legs again. "I said relax."

"I’m trying, Hoon." Your cheeks are burning. You glance at the camera again before looking back at Sunghoon, who has a smug smile on his lips.

He clicks his tongue in fake annoyance."Look at you, acting all shy because of a camera." His thumb circles your clit while two other fingers rub along your folds, soaking the cotton fabric even more.

"Hoon, please," you whimper.

Sunghoon laughs, clearly entertained by the whole situation. "Putting on a show for the camera, huh? When we both know you’re just a desperate little slut for my cock."

You let out a pathetic, embarrassed sound, and he laughs again — not gentle or comforting, but clearly mocking you.

"Open up for me." It’s not a request, it’s a command, and you obey without hesitation, just like you always do. "There’s my good girl."

Sunghoon pushes your panties to the side, finally exposing your dripping pussy to the cool air of the room. You protest and try to close your legs again, feeling even more embarrassed. "Don’t you dare hide from me or the camera."

He stretches one arm out to grab the camera, holding it at chest level. Looking at your image through the viewfinder and fuck, you look so good.

"Open wider. Yeah, just like that." His thumb slides up and down your slit, spreading your wetness. You bite your lower lip, trying to hold back any sounds that threaten to escape. "It’s embarrassing."

"You know what’s really embarrassing? How wet you are, clenching around nothing, desperate to have me inside you." Sunghoon is usually a patient guy — or at least he tries to be — but he’s starting to get annoyed with how shy you’re acting.

He lets out an irritated groan before placing the camera back on the pile of books. You know he doesn’t give up easily, even if you’re being difficult.

Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you. He doesn’t go slow — he starts pumping them deep and fast right away. His fingers curl, brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

Your eyes widen and you gasp, your mouth forming a perfect “O” as your back arches off the bed. "Ah! It’s too much, Hoon."

"Forget about the fucking camera and take it." He adds a third finger, stretching you more, his pace remaining fast and rough.

You can feel his fingers pumping deep, curling and rubbing that perfect spot every time until your legs are shaking uncontrollably. Your pussy gets wetter and wetter, making a mess on his hand. "It feels so deep, oh my—"

He circles your clit slowly, teasing you with just enough pressure to feel good but not enough to satisfy. "Please, I need more."

Suddenly he pulls his fingers out, leaving you needy and empty, clenching around nothing — completely limp, breathing fast and shaky.

Then he hovers over you with that wide smile that shows his sharp canines. Without saying a word, his lips crash against yours in a messy, hungry kiss. His hand slides under your tank top, his warm palm groping your breast while his fingers pinch your already hard nipple.

Your back arches and you whimper against his lips as he plays with your sensitive nipple. "Hoon, please… I need you."

He pulls back to catch his breath, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. "So needy…" His index finger and thumb roll your nipple before pinching it again, making you gasp.

Without warning, he yanks your panties down to the middle of your thighs. "Turn over. Face down, ass up." You hesitate for a second but obey, getting on your hands and knees. Back arched, ass up, everything on full display.

The sight makes Sunghoon’s cock twitch painfully inside his sweatpants. "Fuck, so beautiful." He gives your ass a hard slap, the sharp sound echoing through the room — loud enough for the camera’s microphone to catch.

He pushes his sweatpants down past his hips, groaning in relief as his cock is finally freed. Both of his warm hands grab your trembling thighs and spread them wider.

Then he uses one hand to line up his cock with your dripping heat. He doesn’t push in right away — he teases you first. The head of his cock slides between your folds, brushing against your entrance.

"Just fuck me already, Sunghoon," you whimper.

As much as he wants to fuck you hard and fast enough to melt your brain and leave you shaking, he also wants to savor it — to go slow so you feel every inch, every pulsing vein inside.

He starts pushing in slowly, making you gasp at the delicious stretch. When he bottoms out, he stays still for a few seconds, letting you feel all of him. In this angle, he feels even bigger, even deeper.

"So fucking tight," he groans before starting to thrust into you hard. His hips slap against your ass with every deep stroke. Your walls clench around him, driving him even wilder.

The sound of skin against skin fills the room as you push your ass back to meet his thrusts. The head of his cock kisses your cervix every time he buries himself fully inside you.

"So deep, oh my God."

His hand slides from your hip up your spine, scratching lightly over your tank top before his fingers tangle in your hair and pull it back, making your back arch even more as he reaches even deeper.

"This pussy was made for me, squeezing me so fucking well." Still gripping your hair, he turns your head toward the camera, not wanting to miss how pathetic and wrecked you look with his cock inside you.

At this point, you’ve completely forgotten the camera is even there. Honestly, you couldn’t care less now that his cock is buried so deep inside you, hitting that sweet spot perfectly.

"Listen to how sloppy your pussy sounds taking my cock." He spanks you again, the sting spreading across your skin making you tremble.

"So fucking pretty when I’m wrecking this tight little pussy." He fucks you harder, your moans becoming loud and broken, your legs shaking uncontrollably.

"Too much! Too much!" you cry out, the pleasure building rapidly in your belly.

One of his hands reaches down to rub your clit. The combination of his fingers and his cock is overwhelming. Your walls flutter around him as you moan nonstop.

"That’s it, baby," he watches your face — flushed cheeks, parted lips gasping for air — and fuck, he’s close. "Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum around my cock."

"I’m cumming—" The orgasm crashes over you. Your pussy squeezes him tightly as your body shakes and you moan loudly.

"Fucking hell," he groans."You squeeze me so fucking good… Gonna fill this greedy pussy up."

In one rough movement, he flips you over. Your back hits the bed with a thud. He pins both of your wrists above your head and starts fucking you again with fast, deep thrusts, chasing his own release.

He fucks you mercilessly in a punishing rhythm. Your body is pushed up the bed with every powerful thrust, sinking deeper into the mattress.

He slams into you one final time, cumming deep inside you, filling you until his cum starts leaking out.

Sunghoon stays buried inside you for a moment while you both catch your breath. Then he slowly pulls out, and a hot trickle of his cum runs down your thigh.

He lies down beside you and pulls you onto his chest, gently tracing circles on your spine. "You okay, baby?"

You nod. Then something inside you snaps — you suddenly turn toward the camera in a quick motion. "Holy fuck."

-

You step out of the bathroom after a quick shower, wearing nothing but one of Sunghoon’s shirts. Your skincare routine is done, and you look cozy and refreshed. In the bedroom, Sunghoon is sitting against the headboard with his laptop on his lap. You don’t even have to ask — it’s pretty obvious what he’s doing.

"Just fuck me already, Sunghoon." Your own voice comes through the laptop speakers. You rush over to close it.

Sunghoon laughs and pulls you onto the bed beside him. "Should I buy those Meta glasses? We could try a first-person take. Fuck, that would be so hot."

From ♡ : have fun tonight.

From ♡ : love you!

Have fun?

Sunghoon sighs at the message notification, looking up from his cellphone to glare around the room. The apartment is nearly packed to the brim with his roommate’s party guests, though that wasn’t saying much, given how small the place was. Jake is hosting and naturally, being the loser he is, all of his other friends are losers too. Which means he has to steep in the stench of this loser-filled apartment all night, counting down the seconds until all of them leave. As if dealing with three loser roommates isn’t annoying enough as is. Needless to say, he would not be having any “fun”.

“God, it stinks,” Sunghoon says under his breath, bringing his shirt to his nose, “do Jake’s friends, like, know what deodorant is?”

“Shouldn’t you be used to it?” Heeseung’s eyes are glued to his phone screen, doomscrolling. And normally, Sunghoon would mock him for acting like a damn iPad kid at a party of all places, but honestly, he’s itching to do the same. “I’m willing to bet your Comp Sci lectures smell a whole lot worse.”

“At least that’s a lecture hall and not my apartment.”

“Our apartment,” Jay corrects, emerging from the crowd to hand them each a can of beer. Sunghoon takes his, and Heeseung doesn’t notice until Jay rests the cold metal atop his head. He takes it without so much as glancing up. “Which always smells anyway, thanks to you.”

“Me?” Heeseung scoffs, opening the can with one hand before taking a loud, careless gulp. Sunghoon watches with disgust as the drink spills down the sides of his mouth, rolling down his chin.

“Your room is a fucking biohazard. The whole place gets stink-bombed every time you open your damn door.”

“Yeah? And what about your shits stink-bombing the bathroom every morning?”

“That’s a normal bodily function!”

“There’s nothing normal about that smell, dude.”

He rolls his eyes, scrolling a little further on his phone until Sunghoon’s most recent post pops up. It’s him and his girlfriend arm in arm, smiling like they’re on the cover of a Hallmark movie.

“Shit, you had your anniversary?” He squints, reading the caption, “How long has it been, anyway?”

“Two years.”

“Two years?” They answer in unison.

“…Yeah?” Sunghoon raises a brow, raising his drink to his lips. He glares from one to the other as the pair exchange side glances.

“Didn’t realize it was that serious.” Jay adds, and before Sunghoon can even open his mouth to ask what that’s supposed to mean, he interjects himself, raising his hands in surrender, “Don’t get me wrong! I’m happy if you’re happy. It’s just, you never bring her around, so…”

Sunghoon brushes a hand through his hair, avoiding Jay’s gaze. It’s not like he doesn’t want to bring his girlfriend around. Rather, she’s the one who doesn’t want to come.

“Don’t you think they’re kind of… immature?” She had asked carefully, the very night after meeting them for the first time. He recalls his heart sinking with disappointment. The relationship had still been fresh, and like anyone else at the beginning of something new, he was eager to please. No one wants to hear that their girlfriend disapproves of their closest friends. Though perhaps the worst part of it was that he couldn’t even blame her for it. Jake and Heeseung had decided to make the world’s most abysmal first impression, after all. He cringes at the memory of them trying to prove who could burp the loudest in the middle of dinner, shamelessly and completely unprovoked. As a result, she chooses to avoid any gatherings that involve his friends entirely, though she’d never admit it upfront.

“She’s busy, that’s all,” Sunghoon brushes it aside, “but I am happy. Things with her are easy.”

“Don’t make me throw up,” Heeseung fake gags, swiping away from the post to some meme below it. “Keep your happy, healthy, long-term relationship to yourself.”

“Maybe you should try it sometime,” Sunghoon deadpans, eyes narrowing at his phone screen when he sees his friend stop at some Instagram model’s post, zooming in on her ass. “You know. Instead of doing whatever this is.”

“Nah,” Heeseung chuckles, still biting his lip as he opens the girl’s DMs, typing out god knows what. “Gotta play the field while I’m young. Make good memories before getting tied down.”

“Good memories? Like that time your ex’s ex-gang-member-ex-boyfriend threatened to beat your ass?” Jay taunts, “No, wait. It must be the time the police showed up to arrest that drug dealer chick you were sleeping with. Then searched our entire fucking apartment.”

“You gotta experience the lows in life to experience the highs. And both were good fucks, so at least I got something out of it.”

“Probably got chlamydia out of it, too,” Jay mutters, prompting Heeseung to finally look up from his device, flashing him a glare.

“Never heard of quality over quantity?” Sunghoon finally says, “Maybe if you didn’t sleep with the first bitch that gave you attention, you’d realize it isn't all that worth it.”

“Quality, huh?” Heeseung purrs, and Sunghoon feels his arm snake its way around his shoulders, leaning in with a low voice, “So she keeps you that satisfied?”

"She does." A light flush rises to Sunghoon’s cheeks. His voice drops to a mumble, “Not that it’s any of your business.”

It’s not entirely a lie. He is satisfied… in the ways that mattered. His girlfriend is stable. Mature. Kind. Responsible. The kind of girl you’d take home to your mother, who sits with her legs crossed, back straight, whose shirts are always ironed, whose hair is always neatly tied back from her face. The kind of girl who always shows up on time— who never says anything wrong. A girl who is friends with the right kind of people, who is respectable. The kind of girl you’d expect to be dating Sunghoon, who is equally as respectable and high-esteemed in his own right. And yet, he couldn’t help the gnawing feeling inside, the one that kept reminding him of how he is so deeply bored. Everything with her is so predictable. Every conversation is like an interview. Every touch, devoid of a spark. Every social media post is an unspoken obligation to keep up appearances. And the sex? It’s just… fine. And while an evening alone with his right-hand and laptop was enough to keep his desires bay, it was never enough to satiate them.

It’s not as if he’s unhappy. But satisfied? Does anyone truly feel satisfied, anyway? His friends certainly aren’t— Jake, who can’t land a girl to save his life. Jay, who can’t keep a girl to save his life. And Heeseung? He shudders at the recollection of Heeseung’s ex-situationship breaking into their place and stealing their PS5, along with the myriad of other shit his long list of past partners have done to wreak havoc on him and his roommates.

He’d take boring over that any day.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just jealous. Everyone wants something real. You’re one of the lucky ones who found it,” Jay’s hand lands on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

“I don’t know about that,” Heeseung’s eyes shift across the room, landing on you, and he nods in your direction, “I’d feel pretty damn unlucky if I were taken, and laid my eyes on her.”

With the slow turn of his head, Sunghoon’s breath catches, eyes travelling the length of your silhouette. You lean against the kitchen counter as Jake hands you a red solo cup, a perfectly manicured fingernail tapping nervously against the plastic. Your other hand tugs at the length of your white-blue floral dress just a bit and shoots up to adjust your white cardigan. He can’t help the way his eyes fixate on your exposed shoulder, where the cardigan seems to keep slipping down. You, doe-eyed and doll-like, stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of male STEM majors that litter the house party. You laugh at something Jake says, noting how he smiles widely. Jake would’ve bragged about someone like you if he could. Which means you’re not his.

“Oh? What’s that, lover boy?” Heeseung teases, “Think you might have a little bit of drool riiight there—”

Sunghoon tears his gaze away from you to shove his roommate’s hand away, ignoring his rather punchable-looking grin.

“Talk to me when your hinge matches stop ghosting you.”

“And his tinder matches. And bumble. And…”

Heeseung and Jay’s bickering falls deaf on Sunghoon’s ears as his eyes drift back in your direction. A pang of guilt hits him when you and Jake turn to look right at him in return. Jake gestures to him, and all too willingly, Sunghoon wades through the party until he’s standing right next to you, taking in the sight of you up close. He tries not to inhale too deeply as your scent, warm and sweet, engulfs him, invading his senses. And rather unfortunately, your voice is even sweeter, his brain short-circuiting as you introduce yourself with an outstretched hand. He stiffens, eyeing your hand with caution before shaking it. He tries not to think too hard about how soft it feels in his own, a flush rushing to his cheeks.

“This is Sunghoon. Also in computer science,” Jake exclaims, throwing an arm around Sunghoon’s shoulder. He’s not drunk yet, but the slight sway in his movements indicates that he’s getting there. “And don’t worry. He’s got a girl, so he won’t try hitting on you or anything.”

Sunghoon carefully chooses not to dwell on why the mention of his girlfriend makes him uneasy.

“You’re in computer science?”

He cringes at the way the words leave his own mouth. He’s only shocked because at least 80% of his lectures are filled with greasy, antisocial guys who moderate Discord servers in their free time. Not girls who look like you.

“Well, I used to be in mechanical engineering. That’s how we met,” you gesture to Jake, “Unfortunately.”

“What the hell?” Jake gapes, “I invite you into my home, and this is how I’m treated?”

“I totally carried you through that group project in our first semester. Remember?” You shook your head, “I did basically all the work. You’re lucky I even wrote your name on the final document.”

“…which I apologized for! Verbally and financially.”

“Wait. First year, first semester?” Sunghoon pauses, “Wasn’t that when you got addicted to ranked league?”

“Dude, I was so close to reaching platinum.”

“Seriously?” You gasp, “Jake, you nearly cost our grade to reach platinum in League of fucking Legends? I should’ve extorted you for way more free Uber Eats orders.”

“What am I, a walking wallet to you?”

“Yeah. Basically.”

“Ouch.”

Against his will, Sunghoon feels himself start to smile, his eyes fixated on the way you laugh, rocking back and forth on your heels ever so slightly. It wasn’t just because of how effortlessly gorgeous you were, either. Whatever energy you had brought in with you that night, it was contagious, a warmth blooming in his chest and spreading through him head to toe like a disease. He hasn’t felt anything like it in a while.

“And here I was, trying to help you find friends in your program who aren’t creeps,” Jake clutches his heart dramatically, “Should’ve just thrown you to the wolves.”

Ah. So that was what it was.

Sunghoon had heard the horror stories from his other female classmates over the years— all the project partners who turned out to be creeps, all the guys who sit just a little bit too close to them in their lectures and shamelessly stare, or the worst of all? The guys who pretend to be their friends just to get in their pants.

For a girl like you, he could see it clearly. It was one thing to be pretty. To be pretty and meek-natured? It’s a socially-awkward, creepy nerd’s wet dream.

“You know, I think I’ve seen you before. Well, the back of your head, at least,” you tilt your head towards Sunghoon, though he notices your eyes struggle to stay on his, always being the first to break eye contact. Your hand toys with the dainty necklace at your collarbone, absentmindedly. “Data Structures and Algorithms. Section C. I sit a few rows behind you.”

“Didn’t know I was being watched.”

“You’re hard to miss,” he raises his brow as you continue, “You come in early, sit right at the front and centre of the class, you open up that giant laptop with the bright RGB lights. Like, literally, I cannot focus on anything else, it’s so distracting.”

“You bring your gaming laptop to your lectures?” Jake deadpans, “and I thought I was the nerdiest one in the friend group.”

“First of all, you are. Second, those are the only kinds of laptops that meet the system requirements for the lab assignments, so—”

“Relax, I have the same one. I just turn off the RGBs,” you smile, your hand brushing his shoulder just a little bit. He flinches instinctively, and you notice, drawing back your hand in embarrassment. Selfishly, he wishes you didn’t, but he shoves that thought deep down, praying it never finds its way back to the surface. You look down at your cup, pitifully, the sight of you evoking an overwhelming ache in his fast-beating heart.

“We should sit together next time,” he clears his throat, offering a tender smile. He readjusts himself as he leans too close. “If you want.”

“For sure!” You beam. “Socials?”

You offer your phone, and he types his username into the Instagram search bar, swallowing dryly at the profile picture of him and his girlfriend. Pushing the ugly feeling to the back of his mind, he hands the phone back to you.

“Aw, two years,” you say, eyes immediately landing on the anniversary post. He shifts his weight where he stands. “Cute.”

Sunghoon scrunches his nose as he pours some awful-looking concoction down the drain, throwing the now-empty cup into the nearest trash bag. Everyone had long since left, and yet here the roommates were, still cleaning up the messes left behind in a tired, empty silence. Well, save for the lovely symphony of Jake’s coughing and hacking as he spills his guts out in the bathroom.

“You good?” Heeseung calls to him through the door, giving it a few knocks, “'cause I kinda need to piss really bad.”

There’s a silent pause and a sniffle before the door swings open, Jake wobbling out. His hair hangs over his eyes.

“Woah, woah, Jakey, take it easy,” he catches his friend, and Jake whines, trying to shove him away.

“I’m okay. Don’t touch.”

“Sure you are.”

Heeseung helps him over to the couch, sinking into the cushions uselessly, staring at the ceiling. Jay stands a few feet away, shaking his head at the sight.

“Such a lightweight, holy shit.”

“Am not…”

Sunghoon sighs, grabbing a glass from the overhead cupboard. And soon, with a full glass of water, he joins the three in the living room, setting it down on the coffee table.

“Drink. Unless you want the worst hangover of your life tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, mom,” he scoffs, picking it up and gulping it down. Sunghoon quickly moves to help him lift the glass to his lips, his friend holding it with the fine-motor skills of an infant.

“Grown man, by the way,” Heeseung mutters, Jay and Sunghoon holding back their snickering. Jake glares at him. “Guess I shouldn’t make fun of you too much, though. Since you did bring that pretty little thing into our apartment.”

When all the water is successfully gulped down, Sunghoon moves to place it back on the nearest surface. Jake takes in a deep breath, then he blinks once. Twice.

“Sorry, what?”

“Uh, earth to Jake?” He waves a hand in front of his face, “I’m asking about her. You know who I mean.”

“Ohhhhh, right,” he draws out his words, a smile creeping up on his face. He bites his lip and nods his head, as if he’s replaying the memory of you in his mind, “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”

“Cool?” Heeseung’s eyes go wide. In seconds, his hands are at Jake’s shoulders, shaking sense into him, “Jake. My guy. That’s the hottest woman that’s ever willingly spoken to you.”

“Dude, stop, he’s gonna throw up everywhere,” Jay tears Heeseung’s grasp from Jake, whose head slumps back the instant he’s let go. His hand moves to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, yeah, but she clearly has noooo interest in me, so I don’t even bother,” he waves his hand dismissively, “We’re just friends.”

“Just friends,” Jay echoes in air quotes, snorting to himself.

“There’s no such thing as being just friends with a girl who looks like that,” Heeseung adds.

“No, really,” Jake replies, sounding maybe a fraction more conscious, though his words still drag, “Like, yeah, obviously I’d fuck her if she asked. But like, once the butterflies fade and you get used to her hotness, you start to realize she’s just like… normal. You know?”

“So she’s a friend that you would fuck.” He says flatly, “That’s not called being friends. That’s called being friend-zoned.”

“This is Jake we’re talking about. He’ll fuck anything with a pulse if it gave him a chance,” Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “For everyone else, it’s normal to be friends with girls, even if you find them attractive. Your brain’s just rotted from all the porn you jerk off to.”

“You’re such a fake, you know that?” Heeseung retorts, taking a moment to scoff at him, “Acting like you weren’t eye-fucking her all night. Sounds like someone’s coping.”

“Sounds like you only know how to think with your dick,” Sunghoon hisses, his blood pressure rising.

Heeseung pauses, taking him in, and how worked up he is over his off-handed comments. He can practically see the steam coming out of Sunghoon’s ears.

“Alright, Mr. Good guy,” he chuckles, “Whatever makes you feel better about yourself.”

Sunghoon takes a breath before leaving, making his way back to the kitchen.

“Have fun tucking Jake into bed or some shit. I’m not dealing with this.”

“Oh, you know I will.”

“Hey, don’t leave me alone with him!” Jake’s voice cracks watching Sunghoon walk off. He watches in horror as Jay walks away, too, continuing his garbage pickup. Heeseung tries to lift him up, and he yelps, sliding off the couch as he crawls away helplessly, leaving the elder boy to laugh his ass off on the couch, alone.

Three times a week.

Sunghoon sees you three times a week, twice for lectures, once for labs. And in only the first week of sitting next to you, he already has every little habit of yours mentally noted down. He swears he isn’t doing it on purpose— it’s not like he’s trying to keep tabs on you. It’s just that every little thing about you is so hard to miss.

Almost subconsciously, his eyes seem to wander from the board to you, noticing how you rest your chin in your hand, how you get antsy towards the end of class from sitting in one place for too long, how your elbow seems to drift in his direction as you write in your small notebook, occasionally brushing his arm on accident. He notices and appreciates how, in a room of sweatpants and hoodies, you always wore your pretty skirts and soft cardigans, with ribbons in your hair, and dainty necklaces adorning your collarbone. Everything about you is new, uncharted territory, and the desire to learn more is unrelenting, as well as deeply unacceptable according to his own moral code of conduct.

Of course, it doesn’t come without guilt; There’s the guilt for being so curious about a girl who isn’t his own, and then there’s the guilt he feels, given that he’s supposed to be your guy-friend, not another lustful loser trying to bother you. Though his shame, while constant, is nothing more than a low hum, not quite loud enough to call attention to… yet.

It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong, after all. Thoughts and desires aren’t actions. They’re just a normal, human reaction, and you don’t exactly make it easy for him, either. Really, what else is he supposed to do when you’re laughing just a little too hard at his terrible jokes? When he swears, he sees your eyes linger just a little too long on his body as he leans back to stretch, mid-lecture? And how you always seem to lose your train of thought as he leans in just a little closer, stumbling over your words? He could just be imagining it, but it makes him wonder.

So, maybe he starts telling more jokes, just to hear a little more of your laughter. And maybe he starts wearing shirts that are a little bit tighter, just to see if you’d rake your eyes across his body like he suspects you’d do (and as it turns out, you do). And maybe he enjoys invading your personal space just a little bit, if only to feel that certain rush he hasn’t felt in ages. If only to quell his stubborn curiosity, to enjoy the small moments of your attention, and to bask in the wonders it does for his ego.

There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with making these long, tedious lectures just a little more interesting. Anyone would do the same in his shoes. If not, worse. What he’s doing is completely harmless. After all, he knows himself. He knows he would never cross that line.

Yet, when he walks early into class that day, as his gaze shifts to his usual spot, he notices some other guy who had taken his place, who is leaning way too close to you than you appear to be comfortable with. And, from the way his jaw clenches and his fists curl at his sides, Sunghoon feels it is too close for his comfort, as well.

“See, your code is technically correct, but it’s not optimal,” his voice is grating to Sunghoon’s ears, watching him point to your laptop screen, “it’s fine to use multiple recursion for this example, but if your algorithm were to use much higher values, the runtime would skyrocket.”

“Thanks, but—”

“I could tutor you, if you want,” he hasn’t listened to a word you’re trying to say, eyes dragging down the length of you, shamelessly. You scoot further away until you’re practically on the edge of your seat. "You could pay me with cash. But I also accept other kinds of favours—"

“Hey,” Sunghoon’s voice is low, teetering on the edge of his self-control as he slams your laptop shut onto the guy’s hand. He keeps his palm there, applying just enough pressure to make sure the pain lasts. He leans over him, his tall frame casting a dark shadow over the irrelevant, pathetic loser. “Nobody asked.”

As soon as Sunghoon lets go, the guy cusses him out, scrambling from his seat immediately. Then, turning to you, he watches you breathe a sigh of relief. Sinking into the seat next to you, he can’t help but glare at the asshole across the room. Who does he think he is? All your other admirers had been silently resigned to watching you from afar, as they saw how you clung to Sunghoon’s side. Especially the first week you had been sitting together, he’d gotten a good few laughs out of feeling their jealous glares, shooting daggers at the back of his head. But this guy? Is he stupid? Has he failed to notice that you’re always with him?

Suddenly, the thought of all the other men who must be looking at you in your other classes crosses his mind. Do you sit alone in those lectures? Or, do you have other “guy friends” who get to talk to you like this? Sunghoon pauses before he can get ahead of himself, taking several mental steps back, because why the fuck does he feel like crawling out of his own skin? Why is this uneasy feeling so aching, so all-consuming?

“Are you okay?”

“You’re asking me?” He allows his expression to soften, if only for your sake, but his tone does not, venom dripping from every seething word, “Guys like him just piss me off. That’s all.”

The professor starts the class moments soon after, and Sunghoon lets his gaze drift forward, in search of anything to ease the whirlwind of emotions that rumbled beneath the surface of him, barely contained. Distracted, he doesn’t process that you’re leaning towards him, only snapping out of his trance the second he feels the warmth of your breath tickling his ear.

“Then I’m lucky to have a good guy like you around to look out for me.” You whisper, a shiver running up his spine. He swallows, and when he looks at you, taking in your wide-eyed gaze and how you look up at him through your lashes with pure, unfiltered, undeserved gratitude, he knows he's done for. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

Maybe it’s the way you whispered his name in his ear. Or maybe it’s the way you looked so fucking appreciative when you really didn’t need to be. But whatever had been clouding his mind only seconds ago clears in an instant, replaced with that newly familiar rush that only you seem to awaken in him.

It’s ridiculously unfair how easily you could have him crumbling, falling apart at the seams, only to rebuild him seconds later. It’s ridiculously addictive how good it feels to have your full attention on him, as if he hadn’t been stewing in his own shameful, confusing misery only moments prior. Whatever it is you’re doing to him? It’s exhilarating. It’s dangerous. It’s wrong.

And yet…

He’s hard. Embarrassingly hard, as if he’s a fucking teenager again. He carefully crosses his legs, thanking his past self for choosing to wear jeans instead of sweatpants, and though he’s able to calm himself down in time to leave class undetected, it all comes back to him the moment he’s kicking off his shoes at his front door.

It takes everything in him not to jerk himself to the thought of you. Instead, opting for a cold shower, as if soap could scrub away the absolute filth that is his thoughts. Bracing himself against the tiled walls of the bathroom, under running water, he closes his eyes and thinks of his girlfriend— his kind, unsuspecting girlfriend. He’s supposed to be a good boyfriend. The kind of man a girl can brag about to their friends, who they can take home to their mother without shame. But these days, he feels anything but good.

Though the guilt passes too quickly, morphing into something else entirely when he recalls the events from earlier. You, talking to some other guy. You, whispering in his ear. You, looking so tempting, so forbidden, so infuriating. And just like that, you’re doing it to him again; making him writhe in an agony he didn’t know he could feel, torturing him without even needing to be in the same vicinity. You make him lose his grip. It only makes him want to reach for you even more.

To ♡ : I’m taking you out tomorrow

To ♡ : Wear something nice

Stability. Predictability. Assurance.

That’s what Sunghoon decides he needs. He hasn’t had a restful night in ages, between the stress of keeping up with school and the mind fuckery, that is, you. So he booked the nicest restaurant he could afford on his broke college student budget, brushed off the nice suit that collected dust in Jake’s closet (courtesy of his stupidly rich parents, who would probably collapse if they found out that their son lounges in dirty sweatpants all day), and picks up his girlfriend who greets him with that same old chaste kiss to his cheek.

He does everything right. He holds every door open for her. He asks about her week. He smiles, unwavering, even as she tells the same stories he’s heard over and over again, and he profusely apologizes when his phone starts blowing up with notifications mid-meal, trying not to let his determination shake when he notices your Instagram handle in the notification window. It must be that time of day, he thinks, when the sun goes down, and you curl up for your usual evening scrolling session. He turns it on silent, tucking it away into his pocket.

“Busy these days?” She asks.

“This semester is… frustrating. I’d rather not think about it,” he sighs. Then, he reaches across the table, taking her hands into his, “It doesn’t matter. Keep talking. I want to hear you.”

She giggles, fingers interlocking with his, “What did I do to deserve you?”

He tries. He tries so hard to care about whatever it is she’s talking about, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Because truthfully, he doesn’t feel anything.

He drives her home later, and though she kisses him and drags her hand down his chest with the hint of offering something more, he pulls away. He gives some excuse, talking of an early morning tomorrow, and kisses her one last goodbye with the same politeness and appropriateness she’d greeted him with.

Selfishly, his mind drifts to you as he drives home, wondering how you would’ve acted had he taken you on the same kind of date. You probably would’ve thanked him profusely, eyes shining with delight when he tells you that you can order anything you like— always so easily impressed by any small act of kindness. You’d probably get flustered when he kisses you at the end of the night, but kiss him back with fervour, so eager to show him your appreciation that you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself. You’d probably drop to your knees, wouldn’t you? You seem like the type. He pulls into his parking spot, snapping back to reality.

He groans, a hand moving to his face.

What the fuck.

It’s surprisingly loud when he walks through the front door, his roommates' laughter wafting down the halls. But he’s even more surprised to hear the sound of a certain familiar laugh, one that is unmistakably yours. And for a moment, he thinks he’s hallucinating, taking slow steps down the hall as he loosens the tie at his neck. But when he rounds the corner, he sees you there, sitting on his living room couch with a Nintendo Switch controller in hand.

“Why the fuck do we always pick the map with Rainbow Road?” Heeseung groans, his character falling off the map for what Sunghoon can only assume is the umpteenth time.

“Just get good,” Jake proudly raises his beer to yours, the two of you taking a celebratory sip as you both sit comfortably in first and second place. The creak of the floorboards behind him makes his head turn. “Hey, there he is! Thought you were— what the fuck, is that my suit?”

“Stole it from your closet earlier,” he states plainly, ignoring Jake’s annoyed expression. Sunghoon glances uncomfortably at where you sit, sandwiched between Jake and Heeseung on the couch. “What is this?”

“Mario Kart,” you shrug, “Was kinda bored and Jake said they could use a fourth player since you were out. But hey, now that you’re here, you should join!”

Right. You were Jake’s friend first. He has a habit of forgetting that, given how much time he spends with you alone. He glares down the way Jake’s arm is casually slung over the back of the couch, where you sit, just behind your head. And then there was Heeseung, who manspreads so wide that his entire leg is pressed against yours. He inhales sharply, suddenly hit with the overwhelming urge to grab you by the arm and drag you far, far away from his friends.

“Weren’t you on a date?” Jay asks, narrowing his eyes, “thought you’d be out all night.”

“Shit. Did all that just to get blue-balled, huh?” Heeseung snickers, looking him up and down. But his grin grows even wider when he notices the look on his roommate's face, and how his fists clench at his side, gaze unrelenting. And, more interestingly, how Sunghoon can’t tear his eyes from you. “Oh. I get it.”

A silence falls upon them, save for the end-of-match music from the game playing on loop in the background.

“…get what??” You ask so cluelessly, glancing between them. You nudge Jake, and he stammers, clearing his throat.

“Uh. It’s uh…”

“It’s guy stuff, baby, you wouldn’t understand,” Heeseung leans in just a little too close as he says it, looking to Sunghoon to make sure he’s watching. He brings his hand to your chin, raising it slightly with his fingertips. “Wouldn’t wanna worry your pretty little head with any of that, hm?”

Sunghoon goes cold seeing how your breath hitches, nodding your head like an obedient little dog. He hates the way his pulse quickens, heart thumping loudly in his ears. He hates, hates, hates this feeling so fucking much. He hates how it makes him want you more. He moves to the couch, shoving Jake out of the way, so that he can sit next to you instead.

“There’s nothing to get. Don’t listen to him.” He flashes you a smile, but the warmth of your side pressing into him is only a fleeting comfort. He turns to Jake, eyes landing on his remote before snatching it, “Give me this. And go get me a beer.”

“Are you deadass?” Jake blinks at him.

“I’m almost done mine, I could go—” you start.

“I’ll get it for you,” Jake rises to his feet in an instant, flashing you a ‘look how useful and helpful I am’ smile. He side eyes Sunghoon. “And you, I guess.”

He steps away, and the four of you shift in awkward silence as Sunghoon and Heeseung stare each other down.

“So, uh,” Jay clears his throat, turning to you with a gentle smile, tired of watching the unspoken dick comparison contest between his two roommates. “You said you guys take a class together, right?”

“Yeah. And thank god we do, 'cause I would be totally lost if we didn’t,” you laugh nervously, looking to Sunghoon almost adoringly, “he’s a way better student than I am.”

Your hand brushes his shoulder, and he melts.

“She’s just saying that.”

Without a second thought, he nudges you in return, every shy touch he shares with you feeling like the most monumental moment of his life. Like he couldn’t possibly get any higher. He wishes he could bottle the feeling up, keep it in his pocket forever. But like always, it is ripped from him in an instant, as his roommate reopens his loud, obnoxious mouth.

“Nah. You’ve always been a real good student,” Heeseung leans back, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, “Always listening. Always doing your work on time. Always following the rules.”

Sunghoon frowns.

“You must’ve been a real goody two-shoes in high school, huh?” You tease him, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Oh yeah,” Heeseung continues, “I remember, we always had these stupid weekly quizzes in our History class. And even though the teacher would practically be asleep, he would always cover his answers so that I couldn’t cheat off him. I always thought it was cruel, ya know? Considering we were friends and all.”

“I don’t like to share,” Sunghoon snaps, “especially not with someone who didn’t put in the work.”

Heeseung ignores his retort.

“But you know what the funny thing is? You would cheat off of Jake in Physics.” He laughs, dryly, and Sunghoon most certainly does not find anything about his tone humorous as he sits there, biting his tongue. When he’s had his final laugh, he sighs, turning to him in a low voice, “You know what that makes you, right? A hypocrite.”

Neither of them moves. Jay definitely doesn’t dare to move, tired of playing mediator. And you just sit there. Jake’s return cuts through the tension like a knife.

“You guys not gonna play another game?” He asks, throwing a beer can carelessly in Sunghoon’s lap while placing the other gently in front of you on the coffee table.

“We definitely should,” Jay’s shoulders slump with relief.

Time ticks by, and one beer turns into two, three, six… until eventually, Sunghoon is barely able to hold the remote in his hand, and the room is spinning. But no matter how many drinks he took down, that ugly, despicably possessive feeling wouldn’t leave.

You’re not his. You don’t belong to him. But seeing Heeseung nudge your shoulder, touch your arm, look you up and down like you’re his next meal, then look back at him with a wolfish grin made him want to tear him apart limb from limb. He’s the embodiment of everything he despises; a careless, lazy, college dropout and unemployed asshole with zero shame. He’s disgusting, inside and out, and embraces his filthiness instead of hiding it like everyone else does— like everyone else is supposed to do. He doesn’t deserve to be rewarded. He doesn’t deserve a prize like you when he’s done nothing to earn it.

And then there’s you. With each drink you finish, you return Heeseung’s touch, brushing his shoulder when you laugh. Hell, even placing a hand on his knee, making his stupid grin grow even wider. And Sunghoon just has to sit there and take it, pretending like it’s fine. Because it should be fine. It’s not his business, and if your standards are that low, then so be it.

But when you beat Heeseung yet again, and he’s stealing your remote, holding it above his head,Sunghoon watches in horror as you squeal, reaching up for it, and climbing to your knees. You decide to straddle Heeseung in his lap as you reach further, using a hand at his shoulder to steady yourself, and it makes him sick.

Sunghoon’s head is spinning, and his stomach… his stomach aches. He can barely breathe or form any kind of thought that isn’t murderous. He stands up, stumbling only a little bit, because if he watches whatever the hell the two of you are doing for any longer, he’s not sure he can restrain himself from strangling his roommate any longer.

“You good?” Jake asks, watching his remote control fall to the ground. It hits the carpet with a soft thud.

Sunghoon locks eyes with the bathroom and bolts for it.

The world spins around him as he dry-heaves into the toilet, knees on the bathroom floor. He’d spilled his guts already, but is far too exhausted to will himself to stand. He barely even registers that the bathroom door clicks behind him, eyes shifting upward to find you above him. The overhead light frames you in a golden glow, like a halo around your gentle silhouette, and for a second, he wonders if he’s dreaming when your hand reaches to push his hair from his forehead.

“Jeez, Hoon, you’re burning up.” Your words are slightly slurred, eyes a little unfocused, like his own. Everyone has had too much to drink tonight.

Your lips are still moving, but he’s too distracted by them to process what you’re even saying. Then, you’re lifting a glass of water to his mouth, and he drinks it loudly, unceremoniously, your finger tips lifting the tip of his chin. He, rather ungracefully, moans as it washes away the traces of acidic aftertaste in his mouth, soothing the throbbing in his head. Soon enough, the image of you is clearer. He mourns the loss of your touch as you set the cup aside, and he brings his wrist to wipe his chin with his sleeve.

“Don’t fuck Heeseung,” his words slip out in a deeply drunken, deeply desperate voice. He doesn’t care how pathetic he looks, eyes half lidded, face flushed, kneeling before you like you’re the altar he worships. Though he doesn’t pray. He selfishly demands, even if his tone resembles something of a plea. “He’s a fuckin’ asshole. He’ll treat you like shit. I’m telling you he’s…”

A sharp, throbbing pain shoots through his head, and his words trail off. Face falling forward, his forehead lands flat against your thigh, unable to support his own weight. He’s exhausted, mentally and physically, panting, and his hands reach to dig into your skirt for support. Though the fog is starting to clear up now that he’s evicted most of the alcohol from his system, he thinks— no, he knows he’s drunk on something else. Your closeness is a drug. Your touch intoxicates him.

He hears you laugh. God, how he loves that laugh.

“You’re telling me what to do?”

“Yeah,” he swallows, “so don’t do it.”

“Why?”

“'Cause I said so.”

“Hm, and why should I listen to you?” Your fingers are threading through his hair, and a careless, guttural groan is escaping him as you tug his head back to meet your gaze.

“'Cause you’re mine.”

Your eyes go wide, conflicted, but you don’t push away. Your hand still runs through his hair in a gentle, soothing manner. You try to laugh it off nervously.

“We’re just friends, Hoon. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Friends,” he scoffs, “How could I ever be friends with you?”

His eyes flicker from yours, then to your bare thighs, just millimetres away from his face. He’s so close, the warmth of his breath is tickling your exposed skin, and whatever remaining shred of morality he thought he could cling to is thrown out the window as he leans forward. He brings his hands to caress the back of them and presses a few kisses into your soft skin, a prideful feeling spreading through him when you let out a breathless whimper. He looks up your skirt and notices the wet patch on your white, lace panties. He smiles at that, adoring how your fingers curl into his hair a little more harshly.

“Don’t fight it. Know you want it too.”

“Sunghoon, this is wrong.”

He ignores you, his tongue darting out to suck at the skin of your inner thighs, fully intending to leave his mark.

“Love the way you say my name, baby,” His breath hovers above your clothed clit, his nose nuzzling just above the waistband of your underwear. “Say it again for me.”

He tastes you through your underwear, hands at your hips, gripping into your skin as you whimper. He can practically feel you twitching on his tongue, though he’s barely started, tasting your arousal, which has long since soaked through your underwear. You taste like heaven, and it’s probably the closest he’ll ever get to it, now that he’s certainly going to hell.

“Hoon…”

“Gonna have to be a little louder than that if you want me to give you what you want, pretty.”

He tugs the useless piece of fabric down enough to allow him to lick a stripe up your clothed cunt and you cry out, already twitching with need.

“Fuck, Sunghoon—!”

“That’s it. Don’t hold back,” he growls, “Let them know how badly you need me.”

He kisses your soaked cunt before sucking hard, grinning at the sound of his name on your lips like a broken record. He fucking hopes Heeseung can hear his name coming out of your breathy, pleading voice— hopes he learns not to play with other people’s toys. He hopes Jake feels pathetic knowing you chose the one guy in the friend group who already has a girl, instead of him, who's been begging for a crumb of pussy from you since your first year. There’s nothing to feel guilty for anymore. Not when your legs are shaking like this for him as he laps you up and sucks on your clit, your essence dripping down his chin.

His dick twitches in his pants when you tug at his hair even harder, your cries sinful as you finish embarrassingly fast on his tongue. He drinks up every drop, even as you try to push his face away, loving how you writhe uselessly in his half-drunken grasp. He finally pulls away, bright-eyed as he watches you catch your breath. He muses at your expression; half ashamed, half lustful.

“Don’t tell me you feel guilty, now,” he rises to his feet, caging you in against the sink. He doesn’t kiss you yet, preferring to drink in the sight of you first, now that he finally has you. “You wanted this. Gave me all this attention all semester. I’m not stupid.”

His knee slips between your legs, and he presses into you until your soaked, throbbing cunt is pressed right against his thigh. You whimper, your hands fiddling with the end of his tie as you rock against him.

“Opening your legs so easily. If you really thought this was wrong, you’d push me away,” he whispers in your ear, before dragging his lips down to your neck, “You’re just an easy little slut.”

“I’m not a—”

“Baby, you’re dripping,” he chuckles, looking down at the wet patch on his pants. He hikes your skirt higher on your hips to get a better view, “Probably dreamed of me fucking you stupid, as my little side piece.”

His eyes move down to your chest, heaving in that tight little tank top you wore. He palms your breast through the fabric, kneading the flesh before slipping under to pinch your hardened nipples. But his gaze darkens when he pushes the fabric down, revealing the white, lacy bra beneath it.

“What’s this?” His hand gropes your chest through your bra, his thumb swiping over your hardened nipples through the material. “Were you planning on getting fucked tonight?”

You don’t get the chance to answer because he’s flipping you around, bent over the sink as he drags your matching panties down, tossing them over his shoulder carelessly. He slides two fingers inside you, holding your wrists down against your back, and you gasp as he fills you deep, pace unforgiving, not bothering to even pretend to be gentle. The way you tense around him, choking on your own gasps in shock, only feeds his depraved desires even more.

“By who? Heeseung?” He seethes, then pauses for a second, laughing, “Or were you gonna let Jake hit it for once? Fucking slut.”

“For you,” you manage to choke out, “Not that I thought we would, but… just…”

The words leave your mouth pathetically, and you can feel your face burn with embarrassment. You had done your best to keep your crush on him at bay. But, there was always a small part of you that couldn’t help but wonder. You rationalized it by saying it was something every girl did— it’s like shaving your whole body before seeing an attractive artist’s concert, imagining what it would be like to get noticed in the crowd. Or wearing your prettiest outfit for that one class with the hot married professor. You didn’t wear a matching set because you thought this would actually happen; you did it to entertain your twisted little fantasy of getting with your off-limits campus crush.

Your confession makes him pause entirely, his fingers leaving you hollow.

“For me?” His voice is slow, smooth, “You wanted to look all pretty for me?”

You nod, timidly.

You wanted to act like you felt bad. Wanted to pretend like it was wrong. And yet, he caught you red-handed. Some part of you, deep down, wanted this to happen. You can’t run from the truth now. And when he turns you to face him, you’re not sure what you expect, but you definitely weren’t expecting to be kissed slowly, tenderly, and yet at the same time, so cruelly.

“You wanna be mine?” He mutters against your lips.

“Please,” you breathe out. He hums approvingly.

His hunger only grows from the taste of you. He slips your breasts from their pretty lace confines and latches his mouth on them, licking and sucking them, using his teeth, and continues upward. He kisses up your collarbone and your neck, mercilessly, until you’re littered with marks. And when he’s satisfied, he pulls back, admiring his work, thumb sliding across your skin in gentle circles.

“If you wanna be my pretty little slut,” you feel his hands snake behind you, and his tie wrap around your wrists, “then you’re gonna have to start acting like one.”

He shoves you to your knees, and you stumble a little, struggling to regain your balance, given your hands were tied. Your knees burn where you’re certain you’ll have nasty bruises tomorrow, and you watch as he lifts your chin, “Well?”

Your eyes land on the bulge in his pants. Obediently, you nuzzle your nose at his clothes crotch, looking up at him in a lustful haze. He’s painfully hard, throbbing with need, and he tries not to show how the sight of you like this is making him crumble.

“Please, Hoon. Wanna taste you.”

He undoes his belt and lets his pants fall to the floor, cooing as you immediately move to mouth him through boxers, desperate to please him like the whore you pretend you aren’t. It’s amusing, really, and while he adores the sight of you drooling on him, soaking the fabric of his underwear, he’d much rather feel your mouth on him without anything in the way.

He pulls them down and laughs, watching it slap your cheek, standing tall, thick, and in desperate need of being touched. Your fascinated expression and the way you lick your lips tells him you’ve never taken someone of his size, and he loves that. He guides the tip to your lips, and your tongue reaches out, tasting his precum on your tongue, spreading it around as you then take the tip of him.

“Shit,” he groans, “You drive me fucking insane. You know that? Haven’t had a moment of peace since I met you.”

But it’s worth it, he thinks, as he slides past your lips, hands in your hair, pushing you down his length. And though he can’t wait to fuck your face, he can’t help but take his time first, sinking into your mouth, admiring just how good you look being fed his cock.

“It’s like you were made for this,” a smile toys at his lips, thinking of all the times he’d woken up with sticky sheets from a dream just like this. “You like being on your knees for me?”

He glances down at how you rub your thighs together, and how your wrists struggle against its restraints with desire to touch yourself. His girl hated doing this for him. But you? You’re moaning as he hits the back of your throat, taking it like a champion. He could cum from the sight alone if he weren’t trying to savour every second of your mouth around him.

He sinks his fingers into your scalp, pulling himself out before fucking right back into your mouth again, your throat constricting around him as you choke on his thick cock. There are tears stinging your eyes, and your mascara and lip gloss are smudged, and yet you’ve never looked more beautiful to him than you do right now.

“Sorry, pretty, but I have to be a little rough on you. Gotta teach you a lesson, you know?” He’s panting now, his groans falling effortlessly from his lips, “That’s what happens when you rile me up. When you flirt with my friends just to get my attention.”

He reaches from your hair to cup your cheeks, a thumb swiping at a single tear that falls and he sighs. And then, he cracks a twisted smile.

“They’ll never get to see you like this. Now that you belong to me.”

He finally slows, sliding from your mouth and coos at your exasperated breaths, eyes locking on your marked chest as it heaves up and down. He presses his tip to your swollen lips again, but this time keeps his cock in his hand, fist sliding up and down to the mere sight of you.

“Gonna cum all over your pretty face.” You hum around him in approval, “You like that? So fucking messy.”

He cusses finally, pulling himself out of your mouth to paint you with his spend, shooting ropes over your face, your chest, watching it stain your little tank top, which still hung onto you uselessly, though your breasts were on full display. You blink a few times, mouth agape, because never in your life had you seen this much cum come out of anyone. He stares at you, a gorgeous, pathetic mess, in complete pride, admiring his work. How beautiful it was to have you on your knees for him, completely ruined and marked up, covered in his cum. He wished he had his phone to capture it.

“All mine now,” he reaches out, spreading the cum at your lips, gathering it on his fingers before slipping them into your mouth. You moan around his fingers.

He hoists you to the sink and throws your panties somewhere across the room, while he pushes up your skirt, revealing your wet, needy pussy. You’re practically weeping when he finally touches you because you’re aching for release. And, to your surprise, he kisses you, open-mouthed, desperately, tasting himself on your lips, not giving a single shit about how it gets on his face or in his hair. You feel his fingers prod you, entering your cunt with little resistance.

“Want you,” you manage to say, despite his unyielding, feverish kisses. “Want more.”

“That’s not how you ask,” he teases, his fingers reaching that spot inside you that makes your toes curl, “try again.”

“Please fuck me.”

All he does is laugh.

“You’re real sweet when you beg, but…” he adds a third finger, and your eyes flutter shut, “You’ll take what I give you.”

His other hand grips your neck as he fucks his fingers into you, relishing every cry that leaves your lips. And he takes his sweet damn time, waiting until you’re at the brink of finishing to pull his fingers out of you. And though you open your mouth to whine, you’re quickly shut up when you feel the head of his cock pressing against you, sliding along your needy cunt. Behind you, you can feel his hands undo the tie at your wrists, freeing them from their confines. And now that you could touch him, your hands move instantly, purring with delight at the feeling of his broad, muscular shoulders beneath them. His tip catches at your entrance.

“Don’t have a condom. You care?” he sputters out, as if he isn’t already sheathing the tip of himself inside you, cursing at the feel of your tight, wet walls.

“Just— don’t cum inside.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he growls. At least not yet. He’d fill you with his cum another day.

He pushes your skirt up further to watch himself enter you, lifting either leg to the side, and your fingernails sink into the white button-up that still hangs from his shoulders. And, at the realization, you decide to start unbuttoning it, practically salivating at the sight of his body.

“Fuck,” he hisses, your pussy wrapped around him so tightly, “Could do this every fucking day.”

He buries to the hilt, leaving you barely a second to adjust before he takes another deep thrust. He’s so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him in your guts, splitting you on his cock. And you love it. You love the way he stretches you, the way he takes and takes from you so unfairly.

“Bet you’d like that. Letting me use you whenever I want. Wouldn’t you?” He picks up the pace, and you can feel every inch of him inside you, every vein and curve making your head spin. He grasps your chin, forcing you to face him. “I asked you a question, pretty girl.”

Dazed, you nod fervently, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“Wanna be used by you. Just wanna be fucked like I’m yours.”

“Already said you’re all mine now, remember?” he groans when he feels you clench around him, looking down again just to watch your tight little hole be ruined by him, “My dirty little slut. All mine to ruin. This one time won’t be enough. I need to have you again, and again. Fuck—”

He shakes his head at himself, almost laughing, to think he tried to deny himself of this. Of you, spread open for him, moaning his name loud enough for the whole damn building to hear. He can feel your walls start to tense, your breath catching, and when he feels you fucking claw at his back, shaking around him, he knows you’re about to finish.

“Gonna—”

“That’s it,” he purrs, “Cum on my cock.”

You cry out his name, your pussy gushing around him, squeezing him like a vice. Your vision goes blurry, and your body shakes all over. And soon, his hips are stuttering.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Cursing, he pulls out, jerking the rest of himself until he’s cumming all over you again. He’s everywhere. All over your glistening pussy, your skirt, your thighs, the sink, probably the floor, too. It’s disgusting, and yet, so beautiful.

With a relieved smile, he practically collapses on top of you, his face buried into your chest as his arms wrap around your waist. And for a while, he just breathes, the thought of knowing that he is now covered in his own jizz shoved momentarily to the back of his mind. Because now, as he lies in his own filth with you, he can say with certainty that he finally feels completely satisfied.

So much for being a good guy.

“shit baby, what are you doin’?” your boyfriend pants, all sweaty and flushed, slumped against the headboard of your bed. “you didn’t think we were done, did you?” you coo, crawling back into his lap.

by now, you boyfriend had fucked you twice— once on the couch after you clung to him right when he walked through the door, and the second time, ten minutes ago on the bed. sunghoon was sated to say the least, body spent from the tires of his day and now you.

“yn,” he starts, tilting his head as his hand find your hips. “what, baby? i told you, i needed you..” your hands run down his chest, the muscles flexing under your touch. “yeah, and i gave it to you twice.” he grins.

“yeah, well..” you trail off, looking at him all pretty. “i haven’t had my fill yet. just one more, please?” you lean in, nuzzling your nose with his. sunghoon knew he could never say no to you, but he could only give so much.

“but, baby, i—” “shh,” you cut him off, kissing down his already marked up neck and down his chest. “i know.. just trust me..” you murmur against his skin, making his breath hitch. “fuck.. okay..”

he felt as you moved down to the sticky mess between his thighs, his softening cock hanging. your breath ghosts over it, and it jumps a little. “shit—” he twitches. you take this as a sign and arch your ass up for him to see while your lips ghost over the side of him.

your fingers wrap around it, the angry tip still a dark pink and you suck it into your mouth. he lets out a groan from above you, the thump of his head falling to the headboard registers in your ears. you give small licks to his cock, sucking lightly to work him up gently.

“fuck, baby, a little harder please..” he moans, hand finding your cheek. “yeah?” you whisper, letting a glob of your spit drip down his slit and it trails down a bulging vein. “holy—yn, quit teasing.” you giggle, wrapping your hands around the base of his hardened cock. “alright, alright.” then your cheeks are hollowing, and tongue swirling as you take him as deep as you could.

you get messy with it, drool spilling out of your mouth as the salty taste of your cum mixed with his from before floods your mouth. each slurp from you is louder than the last. his eyes flutter shut, a hint of overstimulation there but not overriding the pleasure. “just like that..” he moans, rolling his hips up until your nose nudges his abdomen.

hearing you gag softly makes him moan, backing off with how much he thrusted up into your mouth. you could feel how hard he was, your hands moving down to squeeze at his balls, making his thighs tremble. “s-shit..”

“baby, you’re gonna have to stop unless you want me to cum right now..” he pants, fingers tracing your cheekbone. you throat flexes with another small gag, your eyes glossy. sucking all the way back up to the tip, a string of spit connects you as you reluctantly pull away. you keep your eyes on his now tall-standing, hard and throbbing cock.

“you’re insatiable.. c’mere.” he tugs you up, making you straddle him again. eagerly, you comply, your puffy clit catching his tip on accident, drawing a needy moan from you. “i need you so bad, hoonie.” you bite your plush and sticky lip. his thumb swipes under it, catching some of your spit before he brings it down and rubs it on your clit.

your back straightens, a breathy sound escaping you. “please..” “yeah?” he pants, watching you, his desperate girlfriend, grind herself on his thumb for the slightest bit of friction. “ride me then. make yourself feel good on my cock.”

without needing to be told again, you grab his length behind you and line yourself up, rubbing the head back and forth for more pleasure, but more so to tease him. “c’mon..” he urges, leaning back more and tugging you down.

his eyes stare at the way your pussy lips swallow his cock, taking him inch by inch. “oh, god.” he moaned. there was something about the way you felt after already being fucked, your walls sucking him in perfectly, his cock kissing your cervix as you bottom out. “shit..” he rasps. his fingers trace across the outline of his cock in your tummy. “look at that..”

you moan, arching into him which just makes the hard line of him press in all the right spots inside you. “my own little pocket pussy, hm?” he caresses your bare tits, groping gently for now. “yes, yes.. hoonie. all yours..”

“good girl.” he praises, bucking his hips up once to get you moving. “go on,” you whimper, hands steadying yourself on his abs. he smirks. “not so bossy now that you’re stuffed full, huh? you gonna ride me or do i need to do it myself?” he quirks a brow. you swallow, knowing what you wanted. and so did he.

he roughly tugs your torso down until your face is in the crook of his neck, positioning his feet on the bed so he could take control from under you. “spoiled fucking girl.. get everything you want.”

but even as he speaks, his hands slide down your sides almost reverently before finding your ass and groping and squeezing at the flesh. and before you knew it, he was fucking up into at a brutal pace, no ounce of remorse for your sensitive pussy.

“aaah-aah—hoon!” you whine in a tiny voice, hands gripping the sheets and his shoulder. “no, you wanted this.” he grunts, never slowing or stopping. “s-so fuckin’ take it.” he pulls at your ass, spreading your cheeks to reach deeper. each pound of his cock inside you sent you jolting forward, your eyes rolling back. “ngh—”

“that’s it..” he coos, panting as your juices squirt out with how wet you were. you throbbed around him, his cock twitching each time. “you’re close, aren’t you?” he taunts. “aren’t you? needy girl.” he nips at your ear, pulling more whines and mewls from your lips. “say it.”

“mmh—yes. i’m g-gonna cum..” you murmur quietly. “give it to me.” he grunts darkly, now chasing his orgasm too when he feels the way your walls twitch around him. the noises in the room were lewd; wet squelching and pornographic moans from both of you. a layer of sweat forms between you as you cry out when your orgasm washes over you.

even then, he doesn’t stop. you wanted this, right? “fuckfuck—sunghoon!” he hears your whines and pleads of overstimulation but he doesn’t register it. he keeps fucking into you ruthlessly, more of your juices splash out and onto the sheets, his thighs and his cock. the warmth and the feeling makes him loose it again. “shit—” he cums hard, deep in your pussy once again.

his semen shoots through you, oozing out into your womb. you let out a sharp cry into his neck, biting on the skin there as you take his load. “mmh—oh my gosh..” you pant in shallow breaths, thighs spasming.

a hand tugs your head up, and he looks over your fucked out face. cheeks flushes, lips plump from where you were biting on them, eyes dazed. his cock continues to thrust inside you but the pace has slowed. “got your fuckin’ fill yet, baby?” he asks, flipping you over and tantalizingly slow, pulls his cock out.

your eyes flutter as you shift under him, legs spread wide. “y-yes..” you murmur. he grins, the corners of his lips curled sharply. “you sure?” he dips down, kissing your sweat-slicked skin.

“mhm..” you hum, but his fingers find their way to your sloppy cunt. “see, i just don’t think so..” he starts, his fingers sliding in and out of your pussy, smearing his cum all over. “this little pussy’s still begging for attention.” he dips in his middle and ring finger, cupping your heat before flicking his fingers where they were inside you. “fuck!” you jolt, brows knitting together.

the sound of your spent and sopping wet pussy fills the silence. “see? hear how messy and desperate she is?” he withdrawals his fingers, showing them into your mouth forcefully. you moan around them, tongue swirling around the digits instinctively. “mmph—”

“but.. if you say you’re done..” he shrugs. his words process and you shake your head no vigorously, still sucking on his salty fingers. his thigh slides between yours, cock brushing your tummy. you immediately start to grind on it, obviously still desperate.

“that’s what i thought.” he pulls his thigh away, pushing his fingers down on your tongue. “get on all fours.” he demands, yanking his fingers from your lips. and of course, you do.

“now, you’re gonna take everything i give you like a good girl. understand? you want it so fucking bad, i’m gonna give it to you.”

sunghoon completely distracts intak’s attention away from you, the poor boy unaware of sunghoon’s true intentions as they get to know each other and talk shit about the professor they share. and you’re pissed, lips parting in shock as sunghoon and intak just left you out like that, despite still being in between them. “oh, what the fuck!” you groan out loud, uncaring of making a scene in front of intak. you shove past sunghoon, a scowl on your face as you carry yourself and your red solo cup filled with jungle juice, to the couch where sunghoon was previously sitting at.

heeseung raises a brow at your appearance, pushing through the crowds before plopping down on the empty end of the couch. “damn. cockblocked?” heeseung asks, though rhetorically since he already knew the answer. jake tsks in response, shaking his head as he lets out an audible sigh through the loud bass of the music, he saw it coming from a mile away. 

you only roll your eyes, nose scrunched up as you take a swig of the jungle juice. “intak was totally about to take me home, too!” you grumble, pouting into your drink that’s pressed up against your lips, eyeing sunghoon and intak’s conversation.

after lingering at the party for a while (alone, might you add), sunghoon eventually departs from his long ass conversation with intak. “c’mon, let’s take you home,” he says as he walks up to you, sitting and pouting on the couch beside his friends who tried to cheer you up, but their efforts were in vain. 

you huff, giving him the cold shoulder but you stand up anyway, tilting your head up snobbishly as you make a beeline to the door. he was your ride back home anyway (intak would have been, if sunghoon didn’t cockblock you), so you don’t really have a snarky retort to say back to him.

sunghoon only chuckles at your attitude, giving a goodbye wave to his friends before following after you. he throws an arm over your shoulder when he catches up to you, the cool air of the night welcoming the both of you when you step outside the frat house. “aww, what’s got you all pouty?” he asks, feigning innocence as he pokes at your puffed out cheeks.

you frown, brows knitting together tightly as you give him a pointed look that screams ‘you! you dipshit.’ and yeah, sunghoon knows very well it was him, and he couldn’t be more proud of himself.

he keeps his arm draped over your shoulders, taking his car keys out to unlock the doors. the car beeps in response, opening up the passenger door for you before playfully shoving your shoulder to get you inside. you dramatically fall into the seat, trying to make him feel somewhat bad, but he only grins at you unapologetically. 

the drive back home was silent, save for the muffled radio, as you look out your window solemnly. you act like you’ve lost everything in your life, your job, money, family, when really you’ve only just lost a potential boyfriend, but tomato, tomato!

sunghoon side eyes you, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while his other relaxes on the center console of the car. he chuckles at your still pouty face, rolling his eyes. “seriously? you really thought you would have a chance with him? he says bluntly, a frown ghosting his face but he quickly replaces it with a neutral expression.

you curl into yourself at his mean words. “he was literally offering to take me home, sunghoon. you totally ruined it for me,” you mumble, frowning as you stare at your reflection through the window. this would not mark the first time sunghoon had ruined something potential for you, he’s always quick to shut you or them off, and it pisses you off to no end. he’s always throwing around claims that you’re too good for them, or they are too good for you. which fucking one is it, sunghoon?

sunghoon’s brows furrow at your words, the corner of his lips twitching into a frown. “he was only going to do that to be nice. did you expect something to happen out of it?” he says dryly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as his eyes zone in even more on the road in front of him as if distracting himself from your point on intak.

“yes, i did! he was being really touchy, which is always a good sign. and he was matching my flirting,” you continue defend yourself, but it won’t make a difference. you’re not in intak’s car. you’re in sunghoon’s car. 

sunghoon doesn’t say anything else, leaving the conversation hanging. he knows he’s right. you know that sunghoon’s right. after all, he’s your best friend. he has the best intentions for you, right?

he pulls up in your apartment that you share with a few other girls, and he thinks about bringing up how you should just move in with him. there’s so many better benefits living with him than being cramped in an apartment with three other girls, but he digresses. you’ll just brush him off again. he turns his head to look at you, head leaned against the headrest. his eyes brush over your figure before he meets your face again. “goodnight,” he says casually.

you squint your eyes at him, wanting to stay mad, but you can’t. you sigh, playfully rolling your eyes while unbuckling your seatbelt. “goodnight, hoon.” 

the question of how you’re even friends with sunghoon hangs in the air as you leave his car. but oh, sunghoon knows it all too well. 

he remembers– sophomore year of high school, when he got partnered up with you for a stupid history project. the two of you fought the entire evening at the library about which era of history you wanted to do. nothing got done that day, the both of you couldn’t even decide on a topic before you got kicked out because you both were yelling talking too loud. 

but then you guys were able to finally get to an agreement (even though sunghoon still would’ve preferred to do the industrial revolution, but whatever), and after that, it was smooth sailing. the project went by so fast, the two of you working like two peas in a pod. when the project came to an end, and the both of you had no longer any reason to talk to each other, he started to get desperate.

“you wanna study for chem together?” he would ask in a soft whisper, leaning his side towards you while keeping an eye on the history teacher that’s lecturing. 

you would then give him that scowl he always expects nowadays whenever he said something stupid that he already knew the answer to. “i don’t have chem. i’m taking physics.”

“oh. right. then how about stats?” he would try again, brows raising a bit in interest to gauge out your reply.

“... i’m taking calculus,” you would answer, but you had forgotten that you were in a class setting, your voice was at its normal speaking level. you got your first detention that day.

but sunghoon didn’t, the teacher only caught you speaking despite you trying to throw sunghoon under the bus. don’t worry though, sunghoon spent the rest of his classes, stirring up trouble to get detention with you. although he did get detention for the week instead of just a day, but he thought it was worth it anyway. 

sunghoon was planning the entire time in his last class before detention, thinking about what topics to talk about with you so that the two of you weren’t just going to sit in complete and awkward silence. but his plans get shattered when he walks in, a triumphant grin on his face (even though he didn’t even win anything??) falling within seconds when he hears you laugh, spotting jake sitting across from you. 

what the fuck. he stares at the two of you, unaware of his entrance until the teacher tells you and jake to be quiet before directing his gaze back at sunghoon, instructing him to sit down. sunghoon plops on the chair beside you, giving jake a scrutinizing gaze that speaks when the fuck did you get detention?!

to which, jake tells sunghoon that he got caught throwing paper airplanes at jay’s head during calculus. but all sunghoon got from that answer was that you and jake shared a common class– calculus. fuck, maybe he should have listened to his counselor when they told him to take calculus instead of statistics. 

and after a long two and a half hours of painful silence after the teacher yelled at the three of you to stop chatting, detention was finally over. jake had to rush to leave, catching the soccer coach to tell him why he had to miss practice, leaving you and sunghoon together. 

“it’s getting dark. do you walk home?” he asked, throwing his backpack over his shoulder as he watched you pack up. 

you nod in response, eyes flickering over to the window. the sun hadn’t even set yet. “i do. it’s not too far, maybe ten minutes,” you shrugged, adjusting the straps of your own backpack.

“i’ll walk you then,” he said simply, walking out of the classroom, not bothering to look behind him to make sure that you were even following him. at the time, you looked over at how he didn’t leave any room for argument. he really hadn’t changed since.

“holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” you practically squeal, your eyes glued to your phone as you’re walking over to sunghoon’s car. sunghoon merely furrows his brow in confusion, his back leaned against the door of the car from waiting for your class to end. 

“fucking finally. what took you so long? i thought you ended at 1:30. not 1:50,” he grumbled, clearly displeased over waiting twenty minutes for you. 

you finally peel your eyes away from your phone, a way too happy grin on your face that makes sunghoon suspicious. “intak gave me his number! he waited outside of my lecture, found me, and asked me out! isn’t that so cute?” you gush, walking over to the passenger side of his car and getting in. 

sunghoon follows suit, except his expression is now sour. his jaw ticked, sliding into the driver's seat but he doesn’t make a move to buckle his seatbelt. “how does he know where your lecture is?” he asks before scoffing, “stalker much?”

you shrug. “i think jake told him. they share accounting together,” you respond, not noticing your best friend’s mood practically deflating like a popped balloon since you’re so zoned in on your phone, replying to a text to intak. 

without thinking, sunghoon snatched your phone from your hands. his eyes skimmed through the exchanged messages, a smirk on his face. “hey! give it back to me! what’re you doing?!” you exclaim, your hands reaching to grab your phone back but sunghoon is quicker, smushing your face away so that your hands aren’t in reach to grab your phone. 

“this is real cute, y/n. i love the part where you try to be all mysterious. ‘pick me up at eight?’” he mocks you, his voice going up a few pitches higher which only makes you more irritated. 

“shut up! give it back to me now, seriously!” you whine, practically fighting with his hand pressed against the side of your face but he’s relentless, using his strength to his advantage to keep you at an arm’s distance. 

sunghoon only chuckles at your weak efforts to steal your phone back. “ooh, look. he just replied to you. he said he’ll be there and that he’s real excited to see you. it’d be a true shame if i…” he clears his throat, his thumb pressing on the microphone button, “yo, intak. it’s sunghoon, you remember me, right? heard delta gamma’s hosting a killer party tonight. you’re coming, right? someone’s gotta hold the keg for me. see you there!” send.

you furrow your brows at sunghoon, stopping your flailing arms to push his hand away from your face. “what are you doing?! he already agreed to tonight, there’s no way he’ll agree to go,” you scoff, having full confidence in intak. 

sunghoon tilts his head at you curiously, a thick brow cocked up and an infuriating smirk on his face. “yeah? oh, look. he’s typing. what’s he saying… ugh blah blah why do you have y/n’s phone… oh! he said he’ll be at the party tonight. guess your little date is canceled,” he says with a casual shrug, tossing your phone carelessly onto your lap and letting your face go. 

you quickly grab your phone, not believing what sunghoon said. but intak really did agree to go to the party. you clench your jaw, an upset frown on your face. when you don’t say anything, sunghoon rolls his eyes, “oh, come on, y/n. i bet he wasn’t even going to take you anywhere special. probably somewhere where he takes every other girl to, you’re not special.”

your entire face falls. you were already frowning, but now you’re just staring at sunghoon, eyes empty. sunghoon looks back at you after a small chuckle at himself, but he quickly shuts up when he notices your expression. 

“what? don’t give me that face,” sunghoon says, an agitated frown now appearing on his face, his brows furrowing as he has the audacity to look confused. 

you don’t say anything. you just turn your head away, looking out the window. “just take me back home,” you mumble, ignoring your phone buzzing with texts from intak.

sunghoon’s eyes narrow at you, watching you practically throw a pouty fit as you look out his window like you were in a sitcom movie. he sighs, rolling his eyes before extending out his hand and grabbing your face to look at him again. his fingers squish at your cheeks, making your lips pout out. “nah. i’m hungry so we’re going out to eat,” he says simply, letting go of you before clicking on his seatbelt and turning on the engine of his car. 

you blink at him. then you scoff, rolling your eyes as you make a show of being pissed off, turning your entire body towards the door with your arms crossed over your chest. sunghoon merely glances at you at the corner of his eyes, his smirk resting on his lips as he pulls out of the parking lot wordlessly. 

sunghoon parks in front of some dessert shop. you’re still stubbornly looking out the window, not even aware that he’s looking at you now. he smirks again, nudging your shoulder across the center console. “fine. stay in here while i enjoy a good ol’ yogurt bowl myself.”

you almost immediately turn in your seat, looking at him first before you direct your attention to the shop you’re parked in front of. your favorite yogurt shop. you always get this when you don’t feel like eating a whole, heavy meal but still need to eat something. 

before you can say anything, sunghoon’s already getting out of the car. he holds his key up tauntingly through the window, his thumb hovering over the lock button to threaten locking you in his car. you fumble with the car handle, pushing it open just before he can lock you in. 

“i hate you,” you grumble, narrowing your eyes at him but you’re already walking towards the shop’s door. 

“i hate you more,” he drawls with a lazy grin, following you inside. 

after you both order and get your bowls, you slide into a booth seat. sunghoon slides in beside you instead of the opposite side. you stare at him with disgust as you scoop up the yogurt filled with berries and other toppings. 

“what? don’t look at me like that. i paid for your bowl,” he says in a sassy manner, and you crinkle your nose at him. you don’t say anything back, deciding to enjoy your bowl in peace. you both eat in silence for a bit. 

and with his fast appetite, he finishes first while you’re only halfway through. he stares at you from the side, watching you take slow bites. he rolls his eyes. “come on, bro. we don’t got all day for you to eat like a sloth,” he scoffs. 

you ignore him, now purposefully moving your spoon slowly up to your lips like an actual sloth. 

his own eyes squint at you. 

“alright,” is all he says before he’s grabbing your face with one hand, his other taking your spoon out of your hand. he scoops up a big bite, and before you can protest, he shoves the spoon into your mouth. he mockingly makes you chew with his hand on your jaw, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips. 

“see? not that hard to eat like a normal person.”

sunghoon insists that you stay at his place so he can take you to delta gamma’s party instead of you going back to yours. evidently, as you sit on the edge of his bed with your arms crossed, you lost the battle. 

“i need to go back to get ready,” you insist, deciding to still not give up on the fight. 

sunghoon’s typing on his laptop, doing some work. he doesn’t look at you as he speaks. “get ready? you look the same every time. you’re fine,” he mumbles, leaning in a bit to look closer at his laptop screen. 

your lips part in offense. you scoff. “ugh, rude much!? i’m literally wearing jeans and a top. i need to change. intak will be there,” you say as if that’ll change sunghoon’s mind. 

it only sets him more determined to keep you here. 

“if you think changing into… what? some skirt and a top that shows off your tits will change intak’s mind, then you should just give up already,” he says simply, still not looking at you. 

you frown. “well, maybe it’s because i also want to feel pretty for myself? god, not everything’s about wanting to dress up for intak…” you mutter, even though intak is probably about 70% of why you want to go back to your apartment to change. 

sunghoon glances up at his laptop to look at you. “good. that’s how it should be.”

hours later, you show up to the party with sunghoon. you’re following behind him at first, on your phone, texting intak to ask if he was here yet. sunghoon notices you trailing back a bit, and he scowls. 

he grabs your wrist and tugs you forward to move you in front of him instead of behind. you stumble, your brows furrowing in confusion up at him. “what?? i was literally right behind you,” you grumble. 

you don’t wait for him to respond as you continue to walk forward into the party, sending out one last text to intak to tell him that you were at the party already. sunghoon looks at your phone screen over your shoulder and rolls his eyes. 

heesueng approaches the two of you alongside with jake. they greet sunghoon first with loud shouts. jake throws an arm around your shoulder, glancing at your phone just before you shut it and pocket it away. he grins at you. “oooh, making moves?” jake teases. 

you smile, shoving him playfully. “well, my move was originally better with a planned date,” you say, emphasizing date as you glance over at sunghoon. jake caught the insinuation that sunghoon ruined it for you. 

he unloops his arm around your shoulders, pushing your back forward towards the main party to get away from the doorway. “just means you gotta make it up here instead,” he whispers in your ear so that sunghoon won’t hear. 

sunghoon’s staring at you and jake the whole interaction. 

you don’t know how many hours has passed. maybe minutes? time blurred after a few shots, and by few, more like 6-7 shots. you’re laughing and dancing with your friends and some strangers, surrounded by them before a hand touches your shoulder. 

you glance up, seeing that it was intak. your eyes light up. “oh my gosh! hey, you found me!” you grin happily, turning around fully to face your body towards him. 

intak smiles down at you, dimples peeking out. he has a red solo cup in his hand, hat backwards on his head. “yeah, ‘course i did. it wasn’t hard to find you. it’s like you have a spotlight shining down on you,” he flirts, and it sounds so genuine and cute from him that your drunk smile falters with awe. 

you part the dance circle with your hand in intak’s as he leads you away. you don’t even hesitate, the alcohol making you more courageous yet oblivious to sunghoon stilling in the dance circle, watching your backs disappear in the crowd. 

you spend the majority of the party alongside intak. he introduces you to his friends, but doesn’t linger long. you find it romantic. he wants you to meet his friends, but he also wants to still spend alone time with you. 

sunghoon fucking hates it. 

“he’s hogging her.” sunghoon’s voice comes out as a low growl, sulking in the corner of the couch. his eyes are absentmindedly watching people dance, totally (definitely not) finding it more entertaining than watching you be all touchy with intak in the corner of the house. 

heeseung and jake don’t bother hiding their eyes watching you and intak. 

“sounds a lot like someone i know,” heeseung remarks, sharing a glance with jake. they both snicker.

sunghoon’s brows furrow, sharp eyes darting over to them. “fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

heeseung raises his hands in mock surrender. “man, come on. she looks like she’s having a good time. leave her alone,” jake interjects, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. 

sunghoon scowls. wordlessly, he gets up but he doesn’t move to you. he moves to the kitchen instead, pouring himself another drink. heeseung sits up straighter on the couch, watching sunghoon from a distance. 

“...shit. should we stop him?” heeseung asks, grimacing slightly as he watches sunghoon continue to pour vodka in the red solo cup. 

jake visibly winces as he sees sunghoon down the liquor as if he’s the one who drank it. “...naahhh…he knows his limits…”

moments before absolute disaster. 

“can i kiss you?” intak asks you. he’s slightly leaning down, just enough to tower over you but he’s the one with his back against the wall. totally voluntary, by the way. 

you smile, your head tilting up at him cheekily. “i’d like that,” you hum, going on your tippy toes to meet your lips with his. your hand reaches up, holding his jaw. he reacts instantly, kissing you back. it’s soft, cute, nothing like the other students messily making out around you. 

you both smile against each other. “don’t pull away. c’mere,” he whispers, bringing your face to his again to kiss you again when you pull away slightly. the kiss becomes more deliberate. the bumping frat music blurs in the background, and you focus on the feeling of his lips moving against yours. 

suddenly, you feel a sharp tug on your hair. you moan into his mouth, not yet realizing that intak has both of his hands cupping your face…

then, the tug is sharper, harder. enough to force your lips away from intak. “woah, i–” you’re about to make some joke about how you didn’t know how rough he could be, but intak’s own surprised face confuses you. 

“what’s your deal?” intak says first, his eyes not on you but on sunghoon behind you. “we were kinda doing something.”

“i saw that,” sunghoon responds plainly, his fingers still tangled in your hair. you’re so fucking confused. you try to get your head out of his hold, but his fingers only tighten, making you yelp softly. 

“let go, man. you’re hurting her,” intak frowns, his eyes darting over to where sunghoon’s hand is in your hair. 

sunghoon smirks, a mocking, dry chuckle escaping his lips. “oh, am i? nah, i know what she likes.” he looks down at you with low-lidded eyes. he’s clearly intoxicated, way past his usual threshold of how much he drinks. 

his smirk only widens when you don’t say anything. “see? she knows too. i’m her best friend. i know what she can handle.”

you finally sputter out something when you’re out of your shocked daze. “sunghoon! let me go, what the hell is wrong with you!?” 

sunghoon blinks down at you, unmoving. then, his smirk disappears. “i’m drunk. you have to take care of me,” he says plainly. his words aren’t even slurring, not really. he still has control even under the influence of alcohol. 

it’s scary, honestly. 

when you just scoff at him, he suddenly dips his head into the crook of your neck. “i’m drunk. you have to take care of me,” he repeats, his lips brushing against your skin. “take me home. my keys are in my front pocket,” he mumbles softly. 

you hesitate. he turns his head in your neck, nose brushing against the side of your throat. “please,” he murmurs. 

your hands are moving before you know it. you dig your hand into his front pocket, finding his keys with ease. you turn to intak, a frown on your face. “i’m so sorry…” you apologize with a soft sigh. “i’ll text you…?”

intak glances at sunghoon still resting his head against your neck so intimately. he runs a hand through his hair, lips pursed. “yeahhh… i dunno. i’ll see,” he says vaguely before he leaves. 

your lips part, shoulders deflating with disappointment. you don’t notice it, but sunghoon smiles against your shoulder when he hears intak leave.

struggling, you manage to drag sunghoon to his car. you drive to his place, then try to haul him to his room. “sunghoon… you have to carry your weight. you’re so heavy…” you mutter. 

his head lolls lazily, temple resting on the top of your head. “mm…coulda’ asked jake or heeseung…” he mumbles his eyes heavy and blurry. he barely makes out his room. 

“jake and heeseung already left! why did you suddenly drink so much?” you sigh. before sunghoon can answer, he’s toppling over. you gasp, trying to catch him. he also tries to use you to catch himself. you land clumsily on his bed (thankfully) with sunghoon’s weight on top of you. 

“ugh! oh my god, you smell like cheap vodka. get off of me!” you whine, trying to push him off of you. clearly, his time at the gym has paid off as he doesn’t move an inch off of you. you huff in frustration, laying on his bed flatly, exasperated. 

sunghoon groans into your neck when you fail to move him off of you. “stop…don’t move. this is how it’s supposed to be…” he mumbles. your brows furrow in confusion, lips parting to ask him what the hell that means, but he speaks again before you can. “saw you kissin’ him.”

you blink up at his ceiling. “uh…yeah?”

“was it good?” he asks as he uses his palms on either side of your head to prop himself off of you. he hovers over you now, blinking down at you lazily. 

you raise an eyebrow at him. “yes. it was good. now can you get off of me? you’re making me smell like vodka,” you reply dryly, rolling your eyes. 

“mm…” he hums, seemingly in thought. his eyes don’t leave yours. “better than me?” 

your eyes dart over to his face, brows furrowing in confusion. “what? we have never–”

his head dips before you can react. his lips press against yours, feverishly. he doesn’t wait for you to kiss him back, his lips already moving against yours. but he knows you. he knows your body. and your body reacts instantly to him, like it was instinct. 

he pulls away, his breathing already ragged. yours is too. “better than me?” he asks again, his eyes no longer locked on your eyes. he’s focused on your parted, kiss-bitten lips. 

you swallow thickly. “...i-it… was different.”

sunghoon doesn’t ask how. he kisses you again, and he doesn’t waste time. he doesn’t try to do what intak does with the stupid, soft kissing. he kisses you with purpose, like he’s trying to engrain himself onto your lips. 

“i’m better,” he breathes against your lips before he slides his tongue into your mouth. you whimper in response, feeling his tongue mesh with yours. 

“say it,” he mumbles. 

you swear you mishear his voice.

“come on. say it. say i’m better…” he pants out, pulling back just enough to see your face. his brows are furrowed, the corner of his lips forming a hint of a frown. 

he was whining. 

whining, asking you to say he’s better than intak. 

you break into an incredulous smile. “seriously?”

his frown disappears. it’s replaced by a dead, serious look. his gaze is sharp. “very fucking serious. now, are you going to tell me i’m better than that fucking loser or not?” he asks, and you’re not sure when his hand traveled to wrap around your throat. 

he’s not applying pressure, but his hand is there. it’s claiming, it’s a threat. 

“yes–yes, you’re better. way better,” you whimper out, your chest heaving up and down against his arm. 

he smiles. “i know i am, baby,” he mumbles as he dips his head back into your neck. he mouths at your soft skin, his tongue lapping where his lips were. he kisses down your neck like you’re the only thing he wants to taste. 

“you’re gonna let me take this off right? for me?” he murmurs as he pulls back enough to paw at your top. the top he refused you to change out of earlier. you nod, biting on your bottom lip as you help him with taking it off. 

he drops it carelessly to the floor beside his bed. he mouths your tits, forcefully pulling down your bra like a mere annoying obstacle. he groans around your nipple, practically burying half of his face in your tits. 

“i’m hot. take my shirt off of me,” he instructs you, leaning off of you to sit up between your spread thighs. you catch your breath, practically getting whiplash from his actions and words contradicting constantly. but you move, hands peeling his shirt over his head. 

he takes his shirt out of your hand before you can toss it to join your top. “the ground’s dirty. can’t have my shirt on there,” he smirks lazily. instead, he pulls the shirt over your head, draping it haphazardly over your stomach. he doesn’t smooth it out for you. 

he moves lower, his hands pawing at your jeans. he unbuttons it, watching your reactions. he smiles lazily when you don’t protest or do anything. you let him take off your jeans, let his fingers press into your already damp panties. 

he scoffs, leaning back down over you. “man, i just knew you always had a little crush on me,” he mumbles, more so like he’s talking to himself. “i mean, just look at how wet you’re getting for me. holy shit,” he groans as his fingers dip under the waistband of your panties, collecting the arousal pooling between your thighs. 

he’s getting impatient. he plays with your soaking pussy for a little bit, enough to have you writhing and whining under him. he even decides to be a little nice and give you two of his fingers. “yeahhh, i know, my fingers are already hard to take, hm? just imagine my cock inside you,” he taunts, guiding your hand to palm his bulge over his own pants. 

he feels your gummy walls clench and unclench around his fingers. “aht–” he tsks, pulling his fingers out of you. “were you about to cum, baby?” he chuckles when you whine in protest. “you gotta earn your orgasm, loser.”

he moves off of you, sitting back on his knees now. you’re breathless, back laying on his bed as you watch him stare at you. “what? do the work yourself. god, do i have to do everything for you, dumb girl?”

he rolls his eyes mockingly, his own hands moving to undo his belt and pants. the belt lands with a clatter on the floor, pants and boxers following. his hard, aching cock springs up, and he hisses at the lack of confinement. 

you blink at his cock. he merely raises an eyebrow at you. he clicks his tongue in annoyance. he wraps his hand around your wrist, bringing your hand to his cock. “what? afraid of it?” he teases, his smirk only widening when he sees your fingers don’t even meet when you wrap your hand around his cock. 

you’re also in awe. your hand doesn’t move. you just stare at his twitching cock in the palm of your hand. you don’t notice that he leans down a bit to spit onto his cock, making it wet. “come on, stupid girl. i already made it wet for you. all you gotta do is just move your hand up and down. really, it’s not that hard,” he grumbles, running a hand lazily through his hair. 

you whimper at his words, moving off your back to sit up a bit. your hand starts to move, his spit dripping onto your fist. a loud squelch resounds around his room, and he tips his head back in pleasure but no sound comes from him. 

with a determined frown to get something out of him, you twist your wrist. your thumb swipes at the sensitive underside of his cock, seeing some pre-cum leak out of him. his breath hitches, and even though the reaction is so miniscule, it motivates you. 

you continue, now using your other hand to join in. it elicits a rough groan out of him, his eyes closing in pleasure. you bite on your lower lip, watching him. with more motivation, you lower your head to take him in your mouth. your lips barely wrap around him before his hands fly to your hair, pulling you off of him immediately. 

he holds your face up close to his. “did i say to use your fucking mouth?” he asks. he doesn’t wait for you to answer. “just a cock hungry loser, aren’t you?” he sighs as if he doesn’t know what to do with you. 

but of course, he does. 

he manhandles you with ease, shoving your face down into the mattress, hiking your hips up with your ass presented to him. his palm smoothes over the fat, a low, satisfied hum vibrating in his throat. “but you’re only going to take my cock, okay? only crave my cock…” he murmurs. 

you expect a slap to your ass, your face half-buried in his pillow to muffle your potential scream. 

it never comes. 

instead, you feel the blunt head of his cock nudge against your soaked entrance. you gasp, fingers curling at his sheets, waiting for the push. unfortunately for you, he’s a fucking asshole. 

his tip bullies into your cunt. he watches you stretch around him, but before he even gets past an inch, he takes it out. “oh, oops. pussy so wet, it slipped out,” he hums, smirking as you whine impatiently. 

what you feel next isn’t his tip anymore. he’s rubbing his cock against your ass, squeezing your cheeks together. he hums lowly, a soft groan escaping him. “mm…can’t believe you were about to give yourself out to intak,” he scoffs as he mentions the other man’s name. 

he finally inches himself into you, catching you off guard. you mewl, eyes fluttering shut as your cunt stretches around his girth. he’s silent, admiring your pussy swallow him until he bottoms out. “fuck–” he hisses out, eyes zoned in on your cunt. 

he thrusts once shallowly. your body immediately clenches around him. he choked out a half-chuckle, half-moan. “seriously… i know you’re a loser but using intak to get me jealous…” he murmurs absentmindedly, shaking his head in disappointment. 

“i-i wasn’t–” you pant out, your own moans cutting you off, “u-using him to make you je-jealous…” you whimper as he gives you a deliberate grind to shut you up. 

“no, i know you, baby. you were tryna make me jealous so i can finally fuck you,” he interjects. then he’s pounding into you roughly, not waiting for you to protest him again. his hands grab at your hips roughly, sure to leave indents of his dull nails in your skin tomorrow. 

he leans over you, his chest pressing into your back. you whine at the new angle, his cock hitting you deeper. one of his hands trail up, brushing hair sticking to your cheek. “mm…look at you. finally getting my cock. you enjoying it, loser? you might never get it again,” he threatens, though with the way your pussy is sucking him in? 

yeah. he’s not ever letting you talk to another man again.

the back of his hands delicately brush the skin of your cheek, contradicting his pistoning hips. you pant out, eyes fluttering open to look at him. he smiles at the sight of your fucked-out expression, like he’s in awe. 

“so stupid,” he laughs, shaking his head. he presses a cheek to your temple though. you’re unsure if he’s trying to make you confused while fucking your brains, or if he’s just doing this shit unintentionally. 

“h-hoon–” you stutter out in a whimper, your hand dipping between your thighs to rub your clit. he hums in acknowledgement, so focused on your cunt taking him that he doesn’t yet notice your fingers rubbing circles on the sensitive bud. 

“what is it?” he asks. he’s breathless, his brows furrowing as he slows his thrusts to a maddening, slow grind. his cock throbs in your cunt, and you whine. that’s when he notices your fingers on your clit. 

immediately, he grabs your wrist and pins your hand on the edge of the headboard. “the one time i don’t want you to do anything, you don’t fucking listen,” he grumbles. your cunt flutters around him. he growls lowly, using his free hand that was holding your hip to reach down and rub your clit. 

you moan, thighs clamping around his hand. he’s annoyed now. he completely pulls his cock out of you, and you whip your head around your shoulder to stare at him. “hey–” your protest dies in your throat when his hand lets go of your wrist to shove your face back down into the pillow. 

“let me play with my dumb girl’s body,” he murmurs, effectively shutting you up. he dips down, lowering himself to be face-level with your pussy. he laps at his own two fingers, getting it wet before he spreads your folds apart. 

he admires you with a hiss, biting on his lower lip before he licks a stripe up your cunt. you gasp, hips immediately pushing into his mouth. “stop fucking moving, or i stop,” he grumbles into your cunt, his voice sending vibrations into your dripping pussy. 

his hands hold onto your ass, keeping you still as he licks and sucks on your cunt. his tongue and mouth is making you absolutely delirious. you whine and sob into his pillow, fighting to keep your hips from bucking into his mouth. 

“o-oh my god, i think i’m gonna–” you breathe out, a punched-out gasp escaping you when he stops. this is the second time he fucking edged you tonight. 

“yeah, yeah,” he drawls lazily, barely acknowledging you as he positions his cock to your entrance again. he slips in with more ease, a groan leaving his lips. he’s thrusting into you hard again, the slap of skin against skin echoing in his room. 

you squeal, your back arching more into him as his cock fills you up. your eyes roll back, hands clawing at his sheets. he doesn’t care. rip them, tear them, those sheets are replaceable. 

you, are not. 

you come without warning. it happens in a blur, so fast and so abrupt. you don’t know when the coil started building up, when it released, when his hand traveled below your stomach to rub at your clit. 

your moans are broken, muffled by the pillow he’s pressing you down into. he grins, canines peaking out with satisfaction. “aww,” he almost coos at you, watching you fall apart. your body trembles, hips threatening to fall onto his bed if it weren’t for his other hand holding your lower half up. 

“fuck, your cunt’s milking me,” he grunts, a punched out gasp escaping him at how tight your walls constrict around his cock from your orgasm. he’s close, and he doesn’t give you a break. “just lay there and get stupid for me, yeah?”

his hips piston into you, pelvis slapping against your ass. your voice is starting to get hoarse, muffled sobs of overstimulating pleasure racking through you. he’s relentless, hands palming at your ass, grabbing at the flesh. 

“ohmygod, ohmygod, i-i can’t–!” you slur out, and shit, he thinks you sound so fucking cute. so stupid. it unravels him. he leans over you again, chest against your back. he buries his face into your neck, mouthing at your skin to quiet himself down because he’s totally not going to let you hear him whimper as he cums.

his teeth dig into your skin. you gasp, loud, feeling his cock throb inside you before he completely stills. you whimper at the sudden stop, turning your face to the side so that your cheek is smushed into the pillow to look at him. “wh-what’s wrong?”

he doesn’t say anything. his breathing is ragged like he just ran a marathon. he swallows thickly, and for a second, you swear he’s wincing to hold himself back when your walls clamp around him again in anticipation. 

“...nothin’,” he answers vaguely. he pulls off of you, his cock slipping out again. you frown, body instinctively moving to turn onto your back so you could look at him properly. his hand shoots out to grab at your thigh, stopping you. 

he smirks lazily at you. “i just decided that i don’t think you deserved my cum in you,” he muses, his hand slowly stroking himself now. “so,” he grunts as he forces you back onto your hands and knees, arching your back for him juuustt right. 

“i’m gonna paint your ass with my cum instead,” he grumbles, already close again from the sight of your ass presented to him. the sound of his hand stroking his cock is lewd, obscenely loud. you bite your bottom lip, looking at him over your shoulder. 

his eyes don’t know where to look. your fucked-out face or your pretty ass? 

You sat in the sterile waiting room of the gynecologist's wing in the hospital, your stomach twisting with a mix of anxiety and discomfort.

The dull ache between your legs had been nagging you for days, a persistent throb that made every step feel off-balance.

When the nurse called your name, you followed her down the hallway, your heart pounding as she lead you into the examination room.

The space was clinical and cold, with white walls, a sink in the corner, and that infamous chair with its stirrups waiting like an unwelcome invitation.

Dr. Park Sunghoon entered shortly after, his presence immediately commanding.

He was tall, with sharp features softened by a professional smile and thick black glasses, his white coat draped over broad shoulders.

His dark hair was neatly styled, and his eyes met yours as he reviewed your chart. “Y/N, tell me about the discomfort,” he said, his voice smooth and reassuring, pulling up a stool beside the exam table.

You explain it awkwardly, the soreness, the unusual wetness, the way it flares up without warning and the missed periods.

He nodded thoughtfully, jotting down notes. “It could be an infection or hormonal imbalance. We'll need to run some tests to check your vaginal fluids and cervical mucus for abnormalities. That includes collecting a sample of your arousal response, essentially, your natural lubrication and any ejaculation if it occurs during stimulation.” His tone remained matter-of-fact, but heat crept up your neck at the clinical phrasing.

“For accuracy and to avoid contamination,” he continued, “I'll need to stimulate you manually. It's the safest way to gather everything without waste.” you swallowed hard, nodding despite the flutter of nerves in your chest.

He gestured toward the attached bathroom. “You can remove your pants and underwear there, take your time to get comfortable mentally. I'll prepare the equipment.”

You followed his instruction and closed the door behind you.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you unbuttoned your jeans, sliding them down your hips along with your simple cotton panties.

The cool air kissed your bare skin, making your exposed pussy clench involuntarily.

You folded your clothes neatly on the sink counter, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

Your cheeks are already flushed, nipples hardening against the fabric of your shirt from the chill and the anticipation.

Your mind swirled with a mix of embarrassment and something darker, hotter, a curiosity about how his touch will feel.

Taking a deep breath, you wrapped yourself in the thin paper gown provided earlier, though it did little to cover your lower half once you were back in the exam room.

You pushed the bathroom door open and padded across the cold linoleum floor.

Dr. Sunghoon stood there, his white coat pristine, dark hair neatly styled, those sharp eyes behind his glasses watching you approach.

"Everything alright?" he asked, his voice smooth and professional, though there's a subtle warmth in it that makes your pulse quicken.

You noddd, avoiding his gaze as you climbed onto the table.

The paper crinkled beneath you, the surface hard and unforgiving against your bare ars.

He helped position your feet into the stirrups, your legs spreading wide, knees bent, exposing your most intimate parts to the cool air and his scrutiny.

Your pussy lips parted slightly with the movement, already feeling vulnerable, a faint slickness gathering from nerves alone.

He adjusted the light between your thighs, the beam warming your skin as it highlighted every fold, every inch of you.

"I'll start slowly," he said, snapping on a fresh pair of latex gloves.

The sound echoed like a promise. "Just relax and let me know if anything feels off. We're collecting your natural lubrication first, then stimulating to full arousal for the other sample. The tube here will suction any fluids directly."

Beside your spread thighs, a thin transparent tube hovered near your entrance, connected to a small collection container marked with measurement lines.

It was all so scientific, yet the setup made your clit throb faintly. Maybe you shouldn’t have been watching role play porn.

He settled on the stool between your legs, his breath ghosting over your inner thighs as he leaned in close. You could smell his cologne, clean, and masculine and it made your mind spin.

His gloved fingers brushed your outer lips first, parting them gently to expose your core.

The touch was light, exploratory, sending a shiver up your spine. "You're a bit tense," he murmured, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Breathe for me."

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself as he traced the edges of your folds, spreading the emerging wetness around.

His movements were deliberate, skilled, like he'd done this a thousand times, which he probably had, but never quite like this for you.

One finger circled your entrance, dipping just the tip inside, coating it in your juices before withdrawing. The tube hummed to life softly, the end positioned to catch the droplets that trickled from you.

He watched your face the whole time, noting every hitch in your breath, every subtle shift of your hips. "Good," he said, voice low. "You’re responding well. Now, I'll go deeper to stimulate more production."

Slowly, he pressed one finger fully inside you, the intrusion slick and warm despite the glove.

Your walls clenched around the digit, pulling it in deeper as he crooked it just right, brushing that sensitive spot along your front wall.

A gasp escaped your lips, your hands gripping the edges of the table.

He was good… fuck, he was incredible. His thumb found your clit, rubbing in slow, firm circles that made e stars burst behind your eyelids.

Heat built rapidly, your pussy flooding with arousal, the tube sucking greedily at the excess that flooded out.

You tried to focus on the ceiling tiles, counting them to distract from the way his finger pumped in and out, adding a second one now, stretching you deliciously.

your thighs trembled in the stirrups, toes curling as pressure mounts low in your belly.

He could feel it, the way your inner muscles flutter, tightening around his fingers.

"Not yet," he warned, his tone firm but gentle, eyes locked on the container where your juices are slowly filling it. "Hold it in, Y/N. We need more before you climax, the sample won't be accurate if it's too little."

But Lord, it was impossible. His fingers twisted inside you, hitting that spot again and again, his thumb pressing harder on your swollen clit.

You bit your lip, trying to obey, but the pleasure crashed over you like a wave.

Your pussy spasmed wildly around his fingers, gushing more fluid as you shattered with a sharp cry that echoed off the walls “Ah— fuck!" The orgasm ripped through you, hips bucking against his hand, the tube capturing the surge of your release.

He didn’t pull away immediately, letting you ride it out, his fingers still buried deep as your walls pulsed and milked them.

When the tremors subsided, he withdrew slowly, the glove glistening with your cum. You slumped back, chest heaving, mortified heat flooding your cheeks.

Dr. Sunghoon sighed, glancing at the container. It was only halfway to the line. "We almost had enough," he said, not angry, just matter-of-fact. "But you'll need to hold back next time. We'll start over and build it up gradually… can you manage that?"

You nodded weakly, still buzzing from the aftershocks. He discarded the used glove, snapping on a new one, and repositioned the tube.

His fingers returned, though your pussy is still drenched from before.

He slid in easier now, two fingers from the start, scissoring gently to open you up. "Focus on your breathing," he instructed, his free hand resting on your thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. Let the arousal build without chasing the peak, alright?”

It was torture and bliss combined. He worked you methodically, fingers curling and thrusting in a rhythm that was slower now and more controlled.

He avoided your clit for a while, letting the pressure simmer, your juices flowing steadily into the tube.

You clenched around him, trying to obey, whispering to yourself not to cum, not yet.

Sweat beaded on your forehead, your nipples aching against your shirt, begging for attention you can't give.

He watched the container fill, inch by inch, his expression focused, almost clinical, yet there was a subtle darkening in his eyes, a hitch in his breath when your pussy squeezed him particularly tight.

"Almost there," he murmured after what felt like an eternity of edging pleasure. "Just a little more. You're doing so well, Y/N.”

His praise sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your clit throbbing untouched.

When the fluid finally reached the marked line, he nodded in satisfaction. "Enough, good girl." His fingers started to withdraw, the sudden emptiness making you whine.

But you couldn’t take it, the ache is too intense, your body screaming for release after being teased so expertly.

On instinct, your hand shot down, grabbing his wrist, holding his fingers inside you. "Please," you beg, voice husky and desperate. "Don't stop. At least... don't leave me like this. I need to cum."

He froze, eyes widening slightly behind his glasses, clearly taken aback.

For a moment, the room was silent save for your ragged breathing.

Then, something shifted in his gaze, surprise melting into something heated, unspoken. He hesitated, glancing at the door as if checking for interruptions, before nodding slowly. "Alright," he murmured, voice rougher now. "Just this once, to ensure your comfort."

His fingers plunged back in fully, no holding back this time. Sunghoon removed the suction tube and focused fully on you.

He added a third one, stretching your pussy wide, the burn mixing with ecstasy as he fucked you with them, hard and deep.

His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing furious circles that made your vision blur.

The wet squelch of your arousal echoed louder, your hips grinding up to meet his thrusts. "Fuck, yes," you moaned,, no longer caring about professionalism. Your walls clamped down, the orgasm building fast and fierce.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your thigh, "Let go for me," he whispered, the words slipping out, fueling your fire.

You shattered again, harder than before, crying out “Mh… yes!" as your body convulsed squirting a fresh gush of fluid that the tube barely caught. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you limp and trembling, his fingers pumping through every pulse until you're spent.

Your hand was still gripping his waist, but as soon as you realised you removed it.

Finally, he eased them out, the glove soaked through. You caught your breath, eyes drifting down to his lap. There, beneath the white coat draped strategically, a prominent bulge strained against his pants, the outline of his hard cock clear, thick and insistent.

he shifted, adjusting the gown to hide it better, but the evidence was there, a testament to how much it had affected him too.

He cleared his throat, peeling off the gloves with deliberate slowness, disposing of them in the bin. "You can get dressed now," he said, turning away to give you a semblance of privacy, “Take your time."

You slid off the table on shaky legs, retrieving your clothes from the bathroom and dressing quickly, the fabric uncomfortable gainst your sensitive skin.

When you emerged, he was seated at his desk, the container sealed and labeled, his composure regained, but that bulge still lingered in your mind.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, pen poised over his clipboard. "Any pain or unusual sensations during the procedure?"

You shook your head, sinking into the chair opposite him "No, just... intense… I guess."

He nodded, jotting notes. "We'll analyze the samples and have results in a few days. In the meantime, avoid strenuous activity down there, and if the discomfort returns, call me directly."

His eyes met yours, lingering a beat too long, a subtle promise in the way he says your name. "You're free to go, Y/N. Take care."

sunghoon can't sleep.

he's been lying here for the past hour just staring at you, watching your chest rise and fall with each breath while trying to ignore the way his oversized t-shirt on you has ridden up to show the sleep shorts you're wearing underneath.

you talked about this weeks ago, gave him permission to touch you while you're sleeping, told him it was okay to wake you up however he wanted. he's been thinking about it ever since, about how you'd react, what sounds you'd make, whether you'd stay asleep or wake up.

his hand slides over to rest on your bare thigh and you don't stir. you're completely out, exhausted from your day, and he takes that as his cue. he shifts slowly, carefully, not wanting to wake you just yet. he just wants to taste you, wanting to satisfy the craving he's had all day but you fell asleep before he could ask.

this is better anyway, getting to take his time with you while you're soft and unaware.

he settles between your thighs as quietly as possible, moving your legs apart gently. you make a small sound in your sleep but don't wake, and he smiles to himself at the domesicity of it all. his fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and he tugs them down slowly along with your slightly soaked panties, just enough to expose you to him. the sound of your shared breathing replaces itself in his ears with his heart beatign rapidly at the sight of you so exposed for him, even as you're asleep.

he lowers his head and rests his cheek against your inner thigh, getting comfortable. he's too tired to put in a lot of effort tonight, content to just lay here and lick at you lazily until you either wake up or he falls asleep -- probably both, he knows he woudlnt mind either. his tongue slides out to lick through your folds slowly, tasting you and it only confrims his suspicion that you're the best thing he's ever tasted. so sweet and perfect and all his.

you make another small sound in your sleep, barely a whimper, and it pushes him to do it again. his tongue moves in long, lazy strokes through your folds, not focused on any particular spot, just tasting. his eyes are half-closed, drowsy and content, his head heavy on your thigh as he works. this is perfect, and exactly what he wanted — just him and you and his mouth on you while you sleep.

he can feel you starting to get wet on his tongue and it makes him groan softly. even in your sleep your body responds to him, knowing what he's doing to you. his tongue circles your clit slowly, applying just enough pressure to make your hips shift slightly in your sleep. another whimper escapes you, louder this time, and he smiles against you before going back to those lazy licks.

his tongue pushes inside you and you make a breathy sound, still asleep but clearly reacting. he fucks you with his tongue slowly and thoroughly, getting you wetter with each stroke. you taste so fucking good that he could do this for hours.

he probably will, honestly, since he's too comfortable to move and too lazy to do anything else.

your thighs twitch and you whimper again, a proper moan this time. he wonders what you're dreaming about, if you can feel this in your sleep, or if you know it's him making you feel this good, and not just any dream. the thought makes his cock throb in his sweatpants but he ignores it for now, too focused on tasting you to care about his own need yet.

he goes back to your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue in slow, deliberate movements. your hips rock slightly and you make another sound, and he can tell you're getting close even though you're still asleep.

everything about it is so hot, especially the fact that he can make you cum without you even being awake for it. he keeps going, the same lazy pace while his tongue works your clit while his head stays pillowed on your thigh.

your breathing is getting heavier, little whimpers and gasps falling from your lips, and he knows you're right on the edge. he sucks your clit gently and your whole body tenses, a louder moan escaping as you cum. he can taste it, can feel your pussy clenching around nothing, and he laps it all up while you're still trembling through it in your sleep.

he's planning on continuing, to see how many times he can make you cum before you wake up, but his eyes are getting heavy. he's so comfortable here, his head resting on your soft thigh, your taste on his tongue, and he's so tired but content. he could fall asleep just like this, face buried between your legs, but is woken from his daze when you make another soft sound and shift slightly.

your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, confused and disoriented. you look down and see him between your thighs, still feeling his tongue still moving lazily on you, and you make a questioning sound.

"shh baby" he murmurs, his voice thick and slurred with tiredness. he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, then your hip bone. "go back to sleep"

"hoon?" you're not fully awake, still caught in that hazy space between dreams and consciousness. "what're you—"

"shh" he repeats, already shifting up your body. he's too tired to explain and too lazy to have a conversation. he needs to be inside you now, wantinf to feel you wrapped around him while he drifts off to meet you in his dreams.

he pushes his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock and lines himself up at your entrance. you're so wet from his mouth that he slides in so easily, bottoming out with a low groan.

"fuck" he mutters, his face finding the crook of your neck. he doesn't move yet, staying buried inside you, his weight settling on top of you. "you feel so good baby, so warm"

"hoon what—" you're trying to wake up but you're so tired and out of it, and he feels so good inside you that you can't think straight.

"just let me" he murmurs against your neck, his hips starting to move in slow, lazy rolls. there's no urgency in his movements nor is there any rush. he's fucking you like he has all the time in the world and as if he's half-asleep himself. "needed to be inside you, i couldn't help it"

you whimper and your arms come up to wrap around him automatically. he's so heavy on top of you, his body completely relaxed, while you're still not fully awake. it feels like a dream, hazy and warm and so good. his cock drags against your walls with each slow thrust and you can feel how wet you are, and hear the obscene sounds your pussy is making.

"i've been tasting you" he mumbles into your neck, his words slurred. "you came in your sleep baby, tasted so good. made the prettiest sounds"

"did i?" you can barely form words, still caught between sleep and waking. everything feels foggy and distant except for the stretch of him inside you, the weight of him on top of you.

"yeah" he confirms, his hips still moving in that same lazy rhythm. "been between your legs for a while, just licking you. i was gonna fall asleep down there but then you started waking up" he kisses your neck sloppily. "so i had to be inside you instead"

his confession makes you clench around him and he groans, the sound muffled against your skin. "feel so good" he mutters. "my baby feels so perfect, so tight and wet for me"

you're whimpering now, little breathy sounds with each slow thrust. he's not trying to make you cum, not really, just using your body for his own lazy pleasure. his cock fills you so perfectly, stretching you just right, and even though his pace is unhurried it's building something low in your stomach.

"hoon" you whimper, your fingers sliding into his hair. you're more awake now but everything still feels dreamlike, unreal. "feels so good"

"i know baby" he soothes, his lips dragging across your neck. "just let me fuck you like this, nice and slow. i'm too tired to go faster anyway"

his honesty makes you want to laugh but it comes out as a moan instead when his cock hits deeper. he's so lazy about it, barely putting in any effort, just grinding into you with shallow thrusts that somehow feel better than anything else. his weight is comforting, grounding, and you find yourself drifting again despite the pleasure building in your core.

"you can go back to sleep if you want" he murmurs, sensing your exhaustion. "i don't mind, it feels good either way. just wanna be inside you"

"can't sleep like this" you breathe, because how could you when he's inside you and moving like this, and it feels so good.

"try" he encourages, his hips still moving in that same steady, lazy rhythm. "just relax baby, let me take care of you. you don't have to do anything"

you try to relax, letting your body go pliant beneath him. his weight settles heavier and you realize he might actually fall asleep while still inside you as he's fucking you. the thought shouldn't be as hot as it is.

his breathing is evening out against your neck, his movements getting even slower, more automatic, as if he is acyually doing it in his sleep. "so tired" he mumbles, but his hips don't stop. "but you feel too good to pull out"

"please don't" you whisper, your own eyes starting to drift closed again. this is insane, the both of you half-asleep while he fucks you, but it's also perfect in a way you can't quite explain.

"wasn't planning to" he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. his hand slides down between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing slow circles. "gonna make my baby cum first though, wanna feel it"

the added stimulation makes you gasp, your hips rolling up to meet his lazy thrusts. he's not rushing, just working your clit with the same unhurried attention as everything else, and it's driving you crazy. the pleasure is building so slowly, winding tighter and tighter in your stomach.

"that's it" he encourages, his voice barely above a whisper. "feel good baby? my sleepy girl gonna cum on my cock?"

"yes" you whimper, getting closer. "hoon please"

"i got you" he promises, his fingers working a little faster on your clit while his cock keeps that same steady pace inside you. "just let go baby, cum for me"

it washes over you in slow waves, pleasure rolling through your body as you clench around him. you're moaning into his shoulder, muffled and breathy, and he groans at the feeling of you squeezing his cock. "so good" he praises, his hips stuttering slightly. "my baby feels so good when she cums"

he only lasts a few more thrusts before he's burying himself deep and cumming inside you with a low groan. his whole body shudders and then goes completely lax on top of you, his full weight settling as he catches his breath. "fuck" he mutters into your neck. "so good baby, you feel so perfect"

you're both quiet for a moment, just breathing, and then you feel him start to soften inside you. he doesn't pull out though, just stays buried in you, his cum leaking out around his cock. "i should pull out" he mumbles but doesn't move.

"noo" you whine oit, not wanting him to either.

"too comfortable" he admits with a soft laugh. "and you're so warm. just let me stay like this for a bit"

"hoon" you try to protest but he's already practically asleep again, his breathing evening out. you can feel his cum dripping out of you, making a mess, but he doesn't seem to care. he's content to just lay here, still inside you, slowly falling asleep.

"i love you" he mumbles, barely coherent. "my sleepy baby"

"i love you too" you whisper back, and you find yourself drifting off too, exhaustion winning. it's not until morning that you fully process what happened, waking up to him still wrapped around you, no longer inside you but holding you close.

"morning" he says when he notices you're awake, his voice rough from sleep.

"that wasn't a dream last night, was it?" you ask, suddenly remembering everything. the feeling of waking up to him between your legs, his lazy fucking, falling asleep while he was still inside you.

"nope" he confirms with a satisfied smile.

"you could've woken me up properly" you say but there's no heat in it.

"where's the fun in that?" he counters, pulling you closer. "i couldn't help myself and seeing you peacefully asleep in my shirt made me lose it — but you enjoyed it didn't you baby"

he's right and you both know it. "you're impossible"

"you love me anyway" he says confidently, and presses a kiss to your forehead. "and i'm gonna do it again tonight, just so you know. maybe see if i can make you cum more than once before you wake up this time"

𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗎~~~~☆، ﹫cigsaftersuh

thank you so much for reading 🩵 sleepy sinful slothy sex with sunghoon hehe i genuinely love this so much, but this is my least favorite from rhe series i’m so sorry but i hope you enjoyed regardless <3 just a warning! the next chapters will all include ddlg dynamics so please let me know if you wish to be removed from the taglist, thank you in advance!!

taglist is open! comment or send an ask to join

He shouldn't want you at all, his girlfriend the lone reason. However, in the packed ruckus of the LED-lit bar, his inhibitions get the best of him ─ making him lookout for your looming figure in the haystack of students. One of the last night's out before the holidays calls for celebration, old Christmas lights string around wooden pillars with popular holiday remixes blaring through the speakers. In true festive spirit, employees are trademarked by ugly sweaters and flimsy Santa hats, a noticeable two standing out from the crowd. 

The terrible twos, you and Sieun —your closest friend — laugh despite the heavy foot traffic, a bucket of ice hauled over by your towering figure. Your black leather boots have you stand out amongst the crowd, bright smile haloed by the bar's spotlights, illumination emphasizing your…costume. The sexy Santa stitch of fabric barely covers any skin yet highlights everything about your figure, deep red a compliment to your complexion. 

Whosever idea this was, the shorts included, had a drink on Sunghoon.

"Bro," a hard nudge hits him in the bicep, flinch directing his gaze back to his table where Jake looks less than impressed. "Eyes up here."

"I don't blame him," Heeseung murmurs, not even hiding his eyes dipped into Sieun's cleavage. He'd even raised his eyebrows ─ pervert. Not that Sunghoon's any better. "I hate to see her go, but I love to watch her walk away."

"Didn't think virgins had preferences," Jay laughs into his pint, face souring when Heeseung tips the glass to spill down his chin. "The fuck? This quarter-zip's brand new!"

"And they're meant to be the oldest," Jake's eyes roll, pint glass perched on the Harley Davidson coaster. His attention floats back to Sunghoon, spying his inattention. He doesn't need to bet money where his best friend's eyes are. "How's your girl?"

"What girl?"

Appalled huffs of amusement demand Sunghoon's focus, focus back on their corner table they snagged before the chaos. 

"What the fuck bro," Heeseung laughs, arms folded over his stomach.

"Hang him by his balls," Jay shakes his head, fingers carding through tousled strands. "Holy shit, man."

It dawns on him then, the mirage of his girlfriend materializing upon being prompted. It's alarming how regular of an occurrence it is. 

"Right, Songyi," Sunghoon nods, utilizing repeated blinks to search for called upon information. He remembers her texting him she'd be over later after her housemates leave for the club. "She's good. Can't complain."

The smack of pool balls echoes in their corner of the bar, farm green table dotted with a mixed group of students playing a poor game. Somehow it still manages to catch Jay's attention. 

"It's been, what? Two weeks since you got together?" Jay muses, knocking back the rest of his drink. "How's that working out for you?"

Not as imagined, Sunghoon can admit. Ever since he laid eyes on you, the angelic beauty and well of kindness people preached of you makes you all the more unattainable. Sunghoon sees you around, not often, but enough to memorize the details. The shy tuck of hair behind your ear, the starfish pendant that sits in the deep of your collarbones, the plump pink of your lips he's had one too many dreams of.

On opposite ends of degrees, common ground is hard to find, but Sunghoon makes it work. Sees you leaving the library when he's coming in, watches you laugh with friends in the campus cafe, gets waited on by you at what's conveniently become his favourite bar despite its extortionate prices. The clubcard makes it worth it, Sunghoon reasons with the guys, but they know better. Know why it's his first suggestion in the first place.

An entire year is spent hovering on the edge of your social circle, a customer-service smile the most he gets when Sunghoon lucks out at the bar. He's not the daring type, so his extent of breaching conversation is trying to find you on dating apps, to no avail. 

Unattainable. It must be why he's so bewitched, even when there's no hope. Pushed by the guys and their reality checks, Sunghoon forgoes his pursuit of the campus princess and…settles. Goes for the first girl who puts forward the same energy he wishes you'd give him. 

Of course, in a cruel strike of fate, the day he asks Songyi out is the day you finally notice him. On the the neon light-up dance floor of your town's singular club, you tap his back, hand on his shoulder as you stand on the tips of your toes. You're tipsy, hinted in the slight slur of your words, yet it sends shivers down his spine all the same when your voice drops to a whisper reserved for his ears only.

Has he seen a mutual friend? He's never been more grateful not being shit-faced drunk. All the energy drinks his Vodka is mixed with jump start the thunder of his heart, lips parted in silent surprise as you drop to normal height. You're looking up at him with those eyes — hooded, lash-filled, like you want something from him. Because he'd give you everything in a heartbeat.

Sound struggles out his throat, somehow producing a cohesive answer when he's bent down to whisper back in your ear. You smell like vanilla and sweat, the thought of licking a stripe up the column of your neck making him strain against his baggy jeans. Thank yous fall from your pouty lips, a squeeze against his bicep before you're gone with the wind, ducking out to the smoking area where Sunghoon directs you. 

It doesn't take him long to yell over the cheesy 2000s music if anyone wants to go out for a cig, prayer hands presented by Heeseung. Outside in the chill of early December, a large floodlight is the only source of light in the poor excuse of a smoking area, the literal front entrance of the over-priced club. It's almost alley-like, the size of four parking spaces but Sunghoon could care less. The whirl of cigarette smoke from Beomgyu and Heeseung doesn't even bother him. All that matters is finding you, which he does seconds later, a circle of friends surrounding you. Your tiny tank top provides little protection from the cold, hand running up your exposed arms with a cigarette between your manicured nails.

He wonders what it'd look like around his─

"There he is!" Your eyes flaring in a burst of recognition. Of excitement. Sunghoon can't quite believes his eyes or ears. "Get over here, handsome!"

It's one of the rare moments in his life he's at a loss for what to do, deer-in-the headlights look cast amongst his circle of friends who are just as confused. He'll dab up Jay later for shoving him forwards, your hand outstretched to pull him through a sea of people, placing him right beside you as you introduce him.

He's the kind stranger who helped you find your mutual friend, thus finding your group for the night. A soft hand cups him underneath his jaw, squishing his cheeks as your mouth runs about seeing him around often, the cute guy you've seen around in your words. Sunghoon kind of lets things happen, enjoying the receiving end of your drunk affection ─ how you pull him close by his belt loops and jokingly bump into him when he teases you. You're everything he's imagined and more ── sweet, witty and all the more alluring. 

He leaves the club that night friends with you and regretting ever asking Songyi to be his. Because he'd never really be hers, not whilst you're around.

"Like a charm," Heeseung muses, a teasing eyebrow raise sent Sunghoon's way. "Imagine the luck - bagging Songyi the very same day she remember he exists."

"Fuck off," Sunghoon barks louder than intended. The rolled eyes at their small table call him to clear his throat, gaining back some composure. "It is what it is, I guess."

"Spoken like a true gentleman," Jay's jokes are endless, as are his deserved rebuttals, another spill down his chin. "Okay, you fucking owe me a pint, asshat."

"Gladly." 

The boys don't have time to register his actions nor his true intentions before Sunghoon's stalked off, swerving through the pool-playing crowd and into the crowded open bar space with its never-ending queues. On the TVs mounted around, various ice hockey games play, beer sloshed around each time an almost goal registers with the drunk crowd. Sunghoon catches your eyes hang on on the game, jaw tensed as you pour a drink with a tilt. 

His interest in the game is non-existent, but he could be a fan if it means having one more thing in common with you. Sunghoon spends his time queuing doing this, watching you watch the game, serving people with a smile. It's not the same smile he gets out of you after that night, but it's similar in width. Only does it fill with warmth when he's made his way to the front, the mob dissipating on the far edge of the bar, a noticeable quietness here.

"Sunghoon," his name drips with honey, dazzling eyes peering up at him. "What can I get you?"

He swallows the cotton ball in his throat. "A San Miguel, please," he leans against the sticky wooden bar, leather jacket two shades darker. "How you holding up?"

"Good, all things considered," a breathless smile accents your words, hands working with diminished quickness. He doesn't allow himself to consider it's to spend more time with him. "My feet are shredded though. The joys of four inch heel boots."

He leans forwards as if it'll give him a better view, nothing but your mile-long legs in his sight. Fucks sake. "Did your boss make you wear them?"

"God no! This was all my idea," a hand's over your chest, nails matching your sight-for-sore-eyes top. "You know how the saying goes; beauty is pain, and all."

"That seems unnecessary." 

"Hm?"

Turns out his whispers do meet your ears, curious blinks directed to him as the polished silver tap lets golden San Miguel fill the pint glass.

"Well, I mean…" if he wasn't making eye contact before, he isn't now. Darting between rainbow-assorted alcoholic drinks behind you, a darts board and the festive season's drink specials. Hand-drawn by yours truly. "You're already really pretty."

Suddenly, the bar shrinks to your own shared bubble, nothing but your awestruck face flooding his senses. The silence would be deafening if not for how hard his heart rabbits in his chest, damn near bruising because even if Songyi's not here to hear this, he shouldn't be saying it anyways.

"Coming from you?" you end up saying, pushing down the type of smile you can't hide."Sure know how to make a lady feel special, don't you?"

Someone would sure hope so. Sunghoon can only manage a tight-lipped beam, his drink perched on the bar-top with little to no foam. 

You really are perfect.

Even more so when he goes to pay, the total reflected lower than his last.

"Hey, I think it's a bit sh─" 

"Consider it a friendly discount," you wink, hand overlapping his, sliding from his wrist down to his fingertips. The shudder he experiences shakes him to his very core. "You know where I am for more."

Somehow, someway, Sunghoon stumbles back to his table, hand soiled in San Miguel after being jostled around. When Jay asks about his drink, his friend has no answer, just the far-off stare that lets them know they're in for a world of trouble.

The original plan for tonight is that Sunghoon and the guys load up on drinks at The Falcon, then make it to the club in time for midnight entry. All of them except for Sunghoon follow through, the latter hanging back outside the Falcon, frost of the December icing the roads as he waits for lights to turn off at the local bar. 

It takes enough time for him to pop down to the nearby fried chicken place, fill his stomach and come back. He pops a breath mint for reasons unknown, wiping imaginary grease on his trousers as the remainder of your colleagues leave the dimmed business, trading curious gazes at his residual figure.

"Sunghoon?"

A conscious decision. Even though you've see him, he can still walk away. He can stil curse himself creating blurred lines and take his dirty secret to the grave. 

Except he doesn't. He only stares at the dip in your cleavage as you strut over in heels that must be killing you, red leather shorts leaving nothing to the imagination. Your sheepskin coat is meant to provide some relief, but with how long it is, it swallows every bit of visible clothing on you.

It's a while before Sunghoon can get out any coherent words. 

"Figured you could use the company," comes out scratchy, airy in some places."Here, take this."

Without thinking, he's slipping off his sneakers, stripping off his socks that will soak up the icy pavement anyways. On one knee he drops, peering up at you.

"Oh, I couldn't─"

“You will."

Unbeknownst to Sunghoon, something awakens in you at his final tone. Quiet compliance allows for him to unzip your boots, your hand braced against his shoulder as he slips off your shoes and puts his on. Silence dominates the low whisper of a half-asleep town, the tick of the pedestrian green light leading Sunghoon to walk alongside you, making sure you get home safe.

Amongst other things.

"The guys aren't with you…" you finally say, eyeing your boots he wouldn't let you carry.

"Yeah, they went out," he explains, walking closest to the road."I wasn't feeling it tonight."

The lone car on the roads drives past your ambling figures, in no way diminishing the sound of your next words.

"So, I get you all to myself then," something mischievous curves your lips, a small part of Sunghoon's fantasies. "Wait, what was it you said earlier? I couldn't hear you, the bar was so loud."

When Jay couldn't stand his shit anymore and pushed Sunghoon to get his refill, the bar got busy again, no time for quiet conversation. 

It just had to happen when Sunghoon had something to ask.

"The guys and I are throwing a party when we're all back, before exams," the words come out choppy, like he's frigid from the cold beneath his feet. It's what your assumption should be, rather than him being nervous. "It'd be g-good to see you there."

More silence.

And a sudden stop, your hands weighted in your beige coat's pockets as Sunghoon whirls around, in full view of you haloed by the lights of town centre.

"Did you wait until my shift was over to ask me?"

He shrugs, feigning indifference.

"It's dark out; I'm not the kind of guy who'd willing let you walk home alone," he mirrors you, hands in his back jean pockets instead. "It doesn't hurt I had something to tell you as well."

"Oh, Sunghoon," You say his name like it's sacred, a word shared only between you two. "As much as I appreciate the gesture, a text would do. You have my number, right?"

No, he doesn't. He's been kicking himself ever since that smoking area for not asking for it, because maybe it wouldn't be as weird asking as opposed to during the daylight of your campus. Prying eyes, creeping guilt, all that jazz.

He shakes his head no. 

"Let's change that."

Under a pale yellow streetlight, Sunghoon gains the only number he's wanted in his phone, ignoring the one that's let him know she's let herself into the guys' house. You don't see it, his phone is on Do Not Disturb. Plus, it's harmless really, just contact information exchanged. He's done the same with people, other girls he's had group projects with. 

You're not other girls though.

"Goodnight, Sunghoon." is the whisper you leave him with when you've reached your house. It's streets down from his. 

When you disappear behind the closure of your front door, your absence is alarming. The walk back home is just as deafening, a gnaw carving at his chest cavity persisting until it's a black hole. He's still cold even after you've given back his shoes, squeezing his bicep again in thanks.

When Sunghoon gets back home, Songyi soundly sleeps in his bed, curling into him when he slips into bed. She looks peaceful, waves of midnight fragrant with citrus. He hasn't had the heart to tell her he hates oranges.

Not long after she dozes again, a light snore her tell, he pries himself away. Treading down the carpeted hall upstairs, he locks himself in the bathroom, fucking his fist to the thought of you and those damn shorts. 

The Christmas break is agonizing. In addition to going back to his family who see no need for privacy, you text him from time to time, sending selfies of your latest adventures at home. Your ginger cat sleeping in your lap, the Christmas market your friends accompany you to, the white-icing Christmas cookies you make. Your nose is scrunched up, icing on the button of your nose. This is his agony, seeing you like this and not being able to do anything about it. 

At some point over the break, you don't text as much, don't text at all and Sunghoon worries. Worries that maybe you've found out about Songyi and he wouldn't say there goes his chance, but it's a feeling vaguely similar to that. Losing your proximity, the press of your touch, the sugary-sweet words you use only with him. He hasn't had you long but he can't stand the thought of losing you, not for anyone. 

Ultimately, he doesn't have time to ponder longer since his degree demands attention, so he begrudgingly gives in. Studying through the days, helping out around the house, seeing old friends through the days leading to him driving up to uni again, a flutter in his chest. The guys are already setting up for the party, stacking up the red cups and getting out foldable tables for beer pong. Jake's even taken the liberty of putting up party decorations, in the middle of hanging up a gold party streamer in one of the walkways.

"Is that straight?" he quizzes from atop the step ladder.

"Just a bit to the right, then you're all good." Songyi instructs in her small, cautious tone. As if sensing his presence, her head whips back, expression alight with fondness. "Hoon, you're here!"

She barrels into his arms, hard pressed into his chest as his arms slowly circle her. He ignores Jake's blatant stare, opting to play his part as Songyi's boyfriend as he caresses the back of her head. He would've kissed her there, but the citrus scent is too strong for him to stay long.

"Tonight's gonna be amazing, I can't wait for everyone to get here." 

He smiles, something wicked behind it. "Me too."

A friend of a friend who Jay knows holds down the aux for the night, his very own deck assembled in the middle of the spacious living room. Strobe lights flash, every colour under the sun dotted on the walls otherwise tainted in darkness, bustling conversation and warm bodes swarming their house not built for so many occupants. Sunghoon usually wouldn't be too pleased queueing for the bathroom in his own house, but the carefree atmosphere is something he's desperately needed after being shackled to his study desk. Not that exams are over, or have even started, but it's good to have the break before he has to clock in for obscenely long shifts at the library.

It doesn't hurt you texted him earlier, asking for his address. You'd also shown him your outfit options, questioning whether either of the three are too 'dressy.'

He has to take a moment outside to collect himself.

The text was sent over an hour ago, so you should be here. On his way back into the house, Jake catches him by his shoulder, eyebrows hardset through his wispy fringe.

"You wouldn't happen to know why she's here, would you?" he asks.

No need for elaboration. They both know who she is.

"Not a clue," he pouts, ignoring the hard pulse in his neck. "The parties' all over everyone's story. Maybe she invited herself."

Jake doesn't buy it.

"Your girlfriend's here," he grits out, white-knuckling his best friend's shoulder. "Remember that."

He deserts him for more light-hearted conversation, blending into the group of people seamlessly, Sunghoon long forgotten.

Don't I know. He'd stew longer in Jake's words but the rush of adrenaline through him propels him elsewhere. To you, finally here. Which explains why he's sifting through the crowd for you, coming through their backyard (makeshift smoking area) into the kitchen, venturing into the living room where he promptly halts. 

Against one of the white walls of the room, adorned with cutout faces of everyone living in the house (Jake and Songyi's idea) is you, beautiful as ever. You're wearing a sequin skirt only you could pull off, a plain off the shoulder top showing enough skin to drive Sunghoon wild with your starfish necklace completing the look. His night should be made; you're here, in his living room, at the house party that will surely to be remembered. 

Except you're talking to none other than Songyi.

A boulder-like weight sinks down in his stomach like an anchor, a greenish feeling invading his weakening body. You're talking, very much engaged in conversation as Songyi uses her hands talking in your ear, your occasional nod a sign of understanding. Maybe the understanding that Sunghoon's a bum, a man with no backbone. A man who's already emotionally cheated, so what's stopping him from doing it physically? The room spins, Equator-hot as light strobes feed into his overstimulation.

Before Sunghoon can scramble for the words, you spot him. The look is brief, no indication for the second that feels like an hour before your hand raises in a wave, politeness curving on your lips. Songyi follows your line of sight, giving one clap before she flags him over, pulling him through dancing bodies since his feet are paralysed with fear.

Fear of the unknown, of the reality he may have ruined being deceitful.

Songyi hangs off his bicep, her hold not as comforting. Sunghoon hates this, being on the other end of a conversation with you, not beside you like he wants. At least it gives him a vantage point to see what you're thinking, not that your expression gives it away. 

"This is the guy I was telling you about," Songyi yells over the music. "My boyfriend, Sunghoon."

A bomb might as well have gone off, its aftermath forcing his eyes shut as all he can do is await his fate. Nothing's up for discussion, Sunghoon has sent clear signs he's interested in you. You'd be something else to think otherwise, you'd be right to chew him out in front of everyone.

"I heard," your lips' curve extends, hand held out for a shake. Sunghoon can only blink. "He's a regular at my bar. Never goes elsewhere."

Under duress is how he shakes your hand, the live-wire spark still the same for those fleeting seconds, your grip on his a second too long. He doesn't meet Songyi's gaze.

"The Falcon, right? God, he might as well rent a room there," his girlfriend rolls her eyes, swatting at his chest. "I've been trying to put him on other bars, but turns out he's pretty stubborn."

"He knows where home is," you say, loud enough to be heard. "I guess."

Through his eyebrows, he looks at you, you already looking at him. He doesn't know what you're up to, not the slightest clue, but he'll find out soon enough.

His night continues like this, on edge. You don't allow him a moment alone, occupied with groups of friends like the social butterfly you are. There's even a point where you're with Jay, Heeseung and Jake. Upon seeing him, his friends save for Jake give him flared eyes, your presence gone as soon as he nears. Sunghoon doesn't know what to think or say. All he knows is he's chasing after you. In his own damn house, with Sonyi on his arm.

Somehow time evades him, the desolation of their trashed house speaking to the late hour. Three in the morning. By then, the cops have come round, snarky neighbours making a noise compliant that after the threat of arrest, people filter out. 

All that's left is half-hung decorations, a red-cupped floor and missing forks in their utensils draw. The strobe lights are still going, their crackled murmur background noise. Jay's friend of a friend, Johnny paid his dues, had the roof nearly cave in from how hard people were jumping around, and is gone too.

It's a mess. The house and his friends who are nowhere to be found. Songyi went upstairs earlier complaining of a migraine, Jake's gone to smoke a joint two doors down, Jay's passed out on the toilet and Heeseung is miraculously losing his virginity. In a surprise turn of events, he manages to charm your friend from the bar, Sieun. And someway, in the dying minutes of the party, she leads him up the stairs to his room. He'd given Sunghoon the biggest thumbs up before he disappeared. Not a soul left behind.

A cup crushes beneath a foot, turning his head. 

His breath catches.

There you are, doused in delicate kitchen light, stepping into the lounge like you're his saviour. Bashfulness pulls at your features, so put together despite the mess surrounding you.

"Figured you could use the help," you offer, a playful spread amongst your features. "Payback for the other night."

The rubbish bag floats out his hand, picked up with a flush. "You don't have to."

"I want to," it's final, your tone. Firm, knowing. "Let me help you."

With a deep swallow, he resumes picking up rubbish in the common areas of their house, lost possessions mixed in with trash people didn't try putting away. As per your suggestion, he finds an empty beer box, used as the lost and found box you'll post about on your socials for everyone to find. You work without many words, only exchanging some when necessary. It's not the same silence you shared back before the holidays, that was tender, almost pure. This…is charged, festering. Pushing under his fingernails, attuning him to every sound you make. 

Eventually, when all rubbish is cleared and stacked outside on the curb for collectors come daybreak, Sunghoon collapses to the couch, springs hissing under him. You hovered behind him outside and now inside, some hesitation riddles your movements. Sunghoon misses it with his head lolled back, arm covering his eyes for a moment's break. 

You're revealed to him when the hesitation is gone, cast in the soft orange wall light of the living room, strobe lights and TV turned off. 

During the party, you'd watched the hockey game playing, just as you'd done at Falcon. The difference is that Sunghoon now knows the roaster, an app downloaded on his phone for the latest gameday news. 

"Want me to order you an uber?" he asks, voice wavering. He's nervous, running shaky hands up and down the grain of his jeans. "I'd drive you home, but I've had a drink. Or many. I could walk you home if you─"

"I'm good here."

Your words hang for a moment, a guillotine of crashing reality Sunghoon's mind is scrambling to comprehend.

"O…kay?"

He's defenceless, watching you fold onto the couch beside him, one leg crossed with your knee touching his. Even through fabric, your touch is searing. Sunghoon would jolt back, as he pretends he doesn't, but he's frozen in place, perplexed. 

Not getting his hopes up.

"So," you start, vanilla scent wafting his way. "Your girlfriend…she's cute."

Sunghoon's lightheaded, dots dominating his feverishly-blinked vision. "Yeah."

"How long you been dating for?"

"A few weeks," Sunghoon answers, unsure. "Give or take."

Your chin lifts, searching. "When's the first time you saw me?"

"Mid October, last year," he replies straightaway. "You'd just started working at Falcon."

A pause, a purposeful one meant to underline how his two responses differ according to who they involve.

"Hm," your elbow props into the storm grey blanket over the ripped leather couch, chin in your palm. His body's not facing you, but he's got his head craned to you. "Interesting."

Sunghoon feels vulnerable, stripped to his barest in what's meant to be the comfort of his home. Only now, it feels like your evil lair. 

"Were you gonna tell me?"

Was he? Sunghoon isn't sure, like many things in his buzzing brain. This predicament, your knee on him, how much he likes you, why he's still with his girlfriend. The latter haunts him more than he likes, a discomfort he pushes into a door slammed shut. Yet, it fights back, piling out of the door, demanding an answer.

And truthfully, he doesn't have a clear answer. He just didn't want to be the dickhead who breaks up with Songyi the day they got together. 

Rather, he's the dickhead who's cheating on her.

His fingers interlace, a ricochet inside him. "Do you─" he clears his throat, struggling. Not looking at you. "Do you care?"

Another pause. Tonight's been full of them, a lot contemplated with the absence of words. 

"No."

He's live-wire again, shuddering out a breath desperately pushing out his fragile lungs. The house is cold, gusts of wind carrying through cracked open windows in the lounge. He shivers, not from the temperature, because you're quickly undoing every stitch of restraint he has. 

"I wish I could control myself with you." he admits. To himself, to you.

"Don't," is your low answer, shifting out his peripheral. "It's no use." 

At the turn of his head, your knee presses into him further. You're closer now, and he's finally turned his body towards you, a mess of limbs, even messier people owning them. Everything is still, not even the early morning birds crowing, almost as if the rest of the world has left you two behind.

The thought makes everything after this easier.

No one knows who leans in first, but he feels it, the hover of your face and the fan of your breath. It's syrupy sweet, a burst of flavour once your lips press together. His life is never the same again, light and colour so vivid that he can't go back to things before, the imprint of your lips forever remembered. Fingers in his hair, you tether yourself to him to keep yourself from sinking further into desire, the hard pull earning a drawn out moan, muffled by the smacks of moving lips.

Unfathomable greed dictates your actions, not enough closeness between each other, so you straddle him, his large hands skimming your sides, thumb tracing patterns into goosebump-riddled skin. Sunghoon takes, deepening the kiss by gliding a tentative stripe to your bottom lips, welcoming your taste. Finally, he knows what you taste like - an undercurrent of Diet Pepsi and that strawberry gum he sees you smack on.

A hitch in your breath comes when his hands venture further, cold against your warming skin, thumbs running over your hardened nipples. A mewl bleeds into the kiss, hips in prime position for a grind you give into. His grip tightens on your ribcage, shuffling slightly to meet your next grind coming in waves. The scratch of his jeans against your damp underwear creates the friction you've long craved. 

Moments pass like this, drinking each other in, tongues brushing, moans swallowed before you pull back. Not enough to bring frigidness into your fold, but enough to catch your breath, forehead pressed to his. 

His face is in your hands, held like porcelain as your thumb graze. Comb over his eyebrows, down the slope of his neck, over his plump kissed lips, thumb pad catching the fan of his breath against it. Hands move again, cupping his cheeks as your eyes brim with hidden affection.

"You're so handsome." 

A few chaste kisses are all Sunghoon gets before your lips migrate, starting their journey on the sharp edge of his jaw, down the column of his neck. Focused on branding his skin, Sunghoon's hands take control of your aimless hips, grinding you flush against his erection. He groans, teeth in his bottom lip so he can continue getting away with this, you on him and everything it entails. Before he comes to, you're on your knees, pleased as can be as you unbutton his black jeans, lowering them with his underwear to expose his cock.

A desire to pull up his trousers and run off gnaws at his overheating skin, his thoughts muddling as you don't hide how enamoured you are by his cock. He's bigger than you're used to, shaft ribbed with angry veins with a fat tip leaking enough precome to make your stomach turn. The tip of your index finger descends from his happy trail, following stray veins as his skin quivers under your touch, finger running along the veins of his cock to the tip, thumb running over his slit. Because you can't help yourself, you lick him off your thumb.

Sunghoon swears his brain malfunctions, conjures images that can only remain true in the realm of his wildest dreams because there's simply no way you're on your knees for him, licking his come like it's the best thing you've tasted. He groans, fingers moving into your hair as you cover his tip in chaste kisses, swirling your tongue flat against the skin, contact eliciting a hiss through his bared teeth. 

He can't remember when last he got a blowjob, Songyi shy and intimidated enough by his size and sex in general to only go as far as a handjob. Her hands barely fit around him, inexperience leaving her stranded for what to do in compensation. But you know, hand seeking out the slick between your legs to lather the rest of his length from harsh friction. It's the single most hottest thing he's ever seen, the grin you do afterwards a close second as you take him into your mouth, jaw unhinging to cover all your bases.

Your head starts to bob, working him further into you, hand close behind your lips forming a tight tunnel to make up for the inches you can't take. The sloppy work of the blowjob eats away at the quiet of the night, Sunghoon's groans and whines thrown in to complete the image as he relishes in the comfort of your mouth. You're so good at it, knowing the right pressure, messy with the level of enthusiasm that slightly worries him he'll come too soon.

It's like you're drunk off him, rhythm never wavering as greed controls how much of his twitching cock you stuff yourself with, getting overzealous as his tip pushes past a gag point. Your throat closes up, a hard gag fluttering around his tip. His fingers go to pull hard at your strands before he remembers better and releases.

Noticing his motions, you pry from him with saliva overlining your lips, hands taking over.

"It's okay," you almost laugh, eyes creased with innocent-like laughter. "You can be a little rough with me. I promise I'll like it."

Sharpness prickles at his spine, surprised. "Y-you sure?"

"Yeah," you nod, tongue swirling around his tip again, only this time you're looking him square in the eyes. "Pull my hair, fuck my throat─it'll make taking you easier."

The groan Sunghoon emits is almost carnal, everything within him used to not flood your mouth with come. You get back to bobbing on his cock, pushing yourself to see how far you can take him even if you gag, water lining your eyes as you cycle through routine gags. The fullness of your throat pulls your nipples taut, your underwear sticking to you in tortured mess.

"Hold on, I'm gonna come," he pants, forehead creased as his hand pull harder on your hair. The smile against his length tells him you don't care for his warning, your pace increases. At this point, you don't care much for what your body can't take, only making him come, your wish quickly coming true. 

Sunghoon's rendered desperate enough, shallow bucks of his hips meeting the back of your throat, pleased hums vibrating around him done to undo him. He hits the back of your throat one last time, his hands on either side of your head as he comes down your throat. Pure filth oozes out his lips, moans seeping deep into your bones, choking on the taste of him.

As Sunghoon returns from the wall of pleasure he's rammed into, his body sinks back while his grip loosens on you. Bringing your head up, you showcase his latest masterpiece as your lips detach with a wet pop.

You're filthy, half your face smeared in slobbered saliva and his come, and yet, you've never looked more perfect. So his, tongue darting out to lick the corners of your mouth, eyes moon crescents as you smile at him, a sheepish giggle following.

He's already hard. 

"I can't wait anymore." 

Surprise splashes onto your face. "You don't need a minute to…?"

"I've waited long enough," his thumb catches one last trace of come, dragging back to the centre of your lips where you lick it clean. His cock kicks, filling in. 

Ever the gentlemen, he helps you to your feet, pulling you onto his lap before you toss your top aside, breasts on full display. The fact you didn't bother wearing a bra kept him semi-hard the entire night. 

You collapse into messy kisses again, noses bending to dull aches, moans muffled to plush lips moving in unison. Everything is frantic and all-consuming, his shirt tossed aside to the roam of your hands, ghosting over his muscled torso while he grabs a handful of your ass, kneading the flesh to the high whine of your throat.

"I didn't want─" he pants, licking over your lips to make you shiver. "─to do this on the couch."

He sounds so sincere, so sweet. You can't help but chuckle a little, indenting gentle teeth marks into his lip. 

"If it were up to me, we'd be doing this on your bed next to her," you murmur, smirking into his quiet gasp. "But this works. As long as I have you."

"You always did."

You're so pressed to stick together, your skirt only bunches up on your hips, making small ridges into your hips. Sunghoon lowers his jeans enough to free himself, his cock standing tall, throbbing with a leaking tip that's red enough to hurt.

"Fuck," he curses, transfixed on you pulling your underwear to the side, material soaked through. "I don't have a condom."

"Don't need it," you hum, hips lifting with your hands guiding his tip along your cunt, a shaken breath shared between you two. "Oh, fuck."

It's the last thing you utter before you're sinking down on his length, sighs of relief heaved in the heated space between your quivering bodies. Sunghoon's holding your hips like a lifeline, head tipped enough to catch your every micro-expression ─ the pleased knit of your brows, the low hang of your jaw, whimpers of pleasure as you ease onto him. Your chest rises and falls in deep breaths, gummy walls burning to the stretch they mould to, devouring every inch Sunghoon has to offer. The lone hand on his shoulder attempts to burrow into his skin, almond-shaped nails gripping for a sliver of stability.

"Holy fuck," he huffs, eyes dropping down to where you're clenching around him. "You're so─shit. You're so damn tight." 

"You're huge, what the─" a groan empties out of you the moment you near the base of his cock, features pulled taut. "So full..give a minute."

Through gritted teeth, you attempt to acclimatize to his size, slippery walls working overtime as they flutter around him. Sunghoon's losing his mind, panting like a dog as he fights off the urge to really fill you, teeth seeking yours as they snag onto your bottom lip, drawing back with anguish and the taste of blood.

His need seeps through to you, fuel to your burning fire as your energy harnesses in your hips, moving to drag his cock from under his tip down near his pelvis. You're not working with much speed, but he's hitting so deep inside to draw out meek mewls, his hands pushing underneath your ass to give you more leverage. 

"Oh God," he whines, halfway apart as your cunt milks him dry. It doesn't help your breasts swing in his face, coming down with the force of your combined thrusts. "You feel so fucking good. So perfect on me."

"I can't take it all," you whine, near tears with moisture dampening your lashes, a hopeless daze in your eyes. "Move me, it's okay. I d-dont have to walk tomorrow."

"You're taking me so well already," one hand leaves from underneath you, on the back of your head as he leans in to kiss your hairline. 

An abandoned thought comes to mind. "Open your mouth."

"Huh?" 

"I said," his hips lift, knocking hard enough to release a low-level screech. "Open your mouth."

Malleable to his will, you comply, helped by the iron-clad grip under your chin before he spits on your tongue. Sunghoon thinks he watches you shatter, features screwed together as a deep moan echoes through you. His back sinks further into the couch, both hands back on your hips to fuck you on him, using you like you said he could.

"This isn't working."

Out your syrupy daze, some leftover sense clings to his words, frowning in confusion. Before you can ask what he means, his large arms wrap around you, standing to his feet. Letting out a yelp, your legs cling to him, wondering endless possibilities before you're put on your back, legs spread. Sunghoon has one knee bent on the couch, his other foot on the ground. His fingers card through his hair, pushing it back before he lines himself up again, slipping right in. 

"Better," he sighs in true relief, the sharpness of his canines resembling an animal. "Now I can fuck you how I want." 

"How you want." he beams before giving you his worst, months of endless pining coming to a head.

Guilt ceases to exist as he pulls out till his tip remains inside, pushing forwards to bury himself to the hilt. A loud squelch accompanying his thrusts, a river's worth of slick dribbling out your cunt and onto the grey blanket.

"You're─hmph, tighter than before," Sunghoon manages a chuckle, thrusts buckling under your vice grip. "How does that work?"

"I'm taking all of you, t-that's why," you smirk, head tilted like you can do no wrong. "Are you proud of me?"

His surprise doesn't stop him this time, a gradual tempo building with the bounce of your breasts. "I will be when you come on my cock."

A flip has switched. Sunghoon's no longer the bashful man who'd tremble at the thought of complimenting you, reservation letting you get away with touches he secretly adores. Now, he's a culmination of every day he couldn't have you.

"Do people know?" he asks, fucking you harder. "Do your friends know how much you love taken dick?"

Knots twist your stomach to never unravel, arms covering your eyes having little to do with silencing your moans, decibels climbing each time Sunghoon knocks into you. 

"Don't stoooop," you slur, cunt pulsating around his length. "My stomach…!"

A mean laugh hits your ears. "You can feel me in your stomach?" One hand abandons the top of your thigh, the heel of his palm pressing down onto the faint outline in your stomach. "Is that where I am?"

"Yes!" you hiccup, brain turning to mush as the dulled stretch of his cock wanes to an rush of ecstasy, heavy balls smacking against the flesh of your ass.

"So loud, baby," his ears flood, the thought of getting caught more enticing than troubling. "Want the whole house knowing how dirty you are? Want her to know what a good whore you are for me?" 

You clamp down hard on him, boiling down to the singular thought of coming. Sunghoon does you a favour by speeding up the process, fingertips collecting slick splashed back on your thighs to rub over your clit, rush of his fingers pulling out a high-pitched squeal.

"Where's your fucking manners?"

Old couch springs show their age as they hiss under Sunghoon's moving weight, the slap of your bodies dangling in the air like an open secret. You sound like you're heaven-sent, so helpless to the overwhelm of pleasure as Sunghoon's cock bullies into you, blush blooming beneath your sweat-veiled skin.

"Hoonie, I─" you choke on the words, pressed for air. "I'm close."

"Am too, sweet girl," Sunghoon huffs, his thrust becoming more frantic. "Tell me you want this forever, tell me you're mine." 

"I'm yours. I love being yours," you cry, teary eyes staring up at him, pulling him down by his chain. "Give me what I want. Fill me up."

His hips stutter then, oxygen knocked out of him. "Want my come?"

"Want it so bad, Hoonie!"

"Okay, baby," he twitches, your gummy walls his demise. "Take it. Take my come, sweet girl."

"Sung─ah!"

It's too late, the thread's already snapped, orgasms hitting at the same time. Divine timing, as it's always been with you two, bodies suspended in the temporary bliss of your highs. It's unlike anything either of you have experienced, vision a blinding white as a thick stream of come coats your walls in a warm welcome. Sunghoon looks at you the entire time, watching your eyes roll, the map of delight in the details of your face. There's a shine about you, so special in his eyes, the single memory he wishes to die with. 

Eventually, the world starts to come back, timelapse setting back to real world time, exhausted pants occupying the air. Sunghoon doesn't know what to think or how to feel, his body on auto-pilot as he falls on his ass opposite you, head hanging off the couch's arm. Weak arms haul you onto the opposite end, limbs tangled like the web of lies you'll continue to weave, tonight only the beginning.

According to the internet, any sex involving the exchange or contact of blood binds two souls together, their fate forever sealed in time. A hoax to some, but an inkling of truth to Sunghoon as he tries to pick up the pieces of that night.

By the grace of a higher power, you two don't get caught, lost in a trance of kisses until the Uber honks outside his house. Sunghoon sleeps on the couch, at least having the heart not to slip into the bed you spoke of defiling, girlfriend none the wiser. Jake wakes him up not much later, holding a store-bought cake he insists on Sunghoon help icing with the word virgin crossed out. When the man of the hour finally comes downstairs─Sieun already having left─party poppers and horns go off, celebratory claps earning Heeseung's hand over his heart, smile the widest they've seen.

Songyi comes down after Heeseung embellishes his story, draped in articles of Sunghoon's clothing. He wonders what you'd look like in the same outfit. 

A lot of his thoughts trace back to you, in fact. Not made any better by the onslaught of texts you exchange throughout the day, Songyi picking up most of Sunghoon's slack when he's meant to be cleaning. No regret is mentioned, only the desire to see each other again. 

Sunghoon's never felt so alive.

Unfortunately, your arrangement has a bit of a slow start. Rarely do you see each other in the following weeks, handcuffed to study desks and library tables as exams take a toll of the student population. It's always torture, but a special kind this time because in the facade of his life, Sunghoon has little to no time to see you. The most he gets is is the odd day in the library, sat tables away from where you work with friends, grabbing your ass when you pass by.

However, when Sunghoon walks out the hall of his last exam, he waves to his classmates and beelining to your house where you tangle in sheets stained in deceit. Days later, when all the guys are finished their exams, bar names are thrown around as a means of celebration. 

To no one's surprise, they end up at the Falcon.

Twenty minutes before rush hour, few souls dot about, the guys lucking out with no queues. You're working tonight, the same scene bringing about shared looks amongst their group. Unfazed, Sunghoon approaches the bar in a confident strut, a knee-knocking smoulder presented to your beaming figure.

"What can I get you, gentlemen?" you bite back a grin, drying off the last few pint glasses.

The guys list their orders, not subtle with cast looks over to Sunghoon. He doesn't buckle like he used to, a calm front maintained as he places his order last.

His elbow braces against the wooden bar-top, a playful arch to his eyebrows. "How about a friendly discount?"

You're picking out their glasses, shaking your head with a chuckle.

"No can do. My boss is onto me," your cheeks bunch up in the smile you can't hide much longer. "The best I can do is this,"

In real time, the guys witness Sunghoon and you lean towards each other, quick lock of your lips blowing their heads right off. Sunghoon pulls away, nipping at your bottom lip, mischief in your features as you add on. "Grab a seat. I'll come over with those drinks."

Without a hitch, Sunghoon leads the way to their corner table of the bar, the pool table occupied again. The ongoing game is the least of Jay's concerns, his and the rest of the guys bewildered stares boring into Sunghoon's skull.

"What the hell was that?" Heeseung breaks first.

"Aren't you with, what's her face?" Jay says, snapping his fingers with nothing to show for it.

"Songyi." supplies Jake, a dirty knit to his face. "Are you cheating on her?"

Their longtime friend doesn't elaborate, not bothering with words as Sunghoon fishes out his phone out from his pocket. After a few careless swipes, his phone is pushed to the centre of the round table, his three roommates leaning in to read the tragic texts.

Sunghoon: I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore.

Sunghoon: There's somebody else.

thank you for reading! („• ֊ •„)੭

comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated.ᐟ ᰔ

It was a one-time mention, that’s it. Something he casually said in bed one night – no thought or intention behind his words. Sunghoon was just saying what was on his mind, that’s all. He didn’t know how it would affect you – he didn’t consider them enough to really understand.

You were on your back, and he was above you; classic missionary position. Nothing about it was special – no sexy lingerie you sported for the occasion, no unspoken bet to see who could last the most rounds. The only thing out of everyone’s ordinary was the pace – the damn near abusive pace, that is.

Sunghoon always had a knack for fucking rough and fast. He didn’t mean anything by it – it was just how he was. He liked to set the pace, liked to fuck you like a stupid toy, liked to say the nastiest shit ever that had you cumming so hard you opened your eyes and didn’t even know what planet you were on.

The drag of his cock was so intense you sometimes wished you could mold it into you permanently – it felt that good. People always like to say  ‘you were made for me’ in the moment, but seriously, you two were made for each other. It was almost as if God had intentionally designed the two of you to fuck each other. Your pussy took his cock almost subconsciously; his cock filled your pussy perfectly.

Sunghoon’s hands were wrapped around your waist. His hands were fucking huge – enough to cover the expanse of your whole face and still have more flesh free. His fingertips dug into your skin as they threatened to leave bruises behind. Sunghoon threw his head back as a deep groan was pulled out from him.

His eyebrows knitted together, head lolled back, neck exposed, and eyes closed as he relished his entire being in the small and quick moans that slipped past your lips. Sunghoon’s breaths continued deep from within his chest, not loud-enough- ‘ah’s adding to the immense pleasure you felt.

He looked down at you, opening his eyes as he viewed the position you were in. Sunghoon didn’t quite think about it – he just spoke: “Fuck – my hands look so good on you, baby.”

He chuckled softly, the sound quickly turning into a moan of his own. Sunghoon smirked as he looked down at you, “God, if only you could see it from my view,” he groaned before he leaned down and connected his lips with your collarbone.

If you could brag about your boyfriend’s sex game, you absolutely would. He always knew what to say and when to say it, earning him the exact reaction he hoped to get out of you. Sunghoon also always managed to keep up the pace – even on round three or four. God, this man was hot.

Sunghoon nibbled on your collarbone before moving to your neck. He gave you a few kitten licks, soothing the areas he had previously been abusing. Your hands gripped his back as you dug your nails deep into his skin. The two of you were sure he was going to have some insane scars from this – Sunghoon made a mental note to not wear tank-tops for about a week.

A soft chuckle fell from his lips as he made his way to your ear. Sunghoon glanced down for a moment, watching intently as his cock disappeared into you.

“Yeah, fuck, I wanna see my hands on you for the rest of my life,” and that was all it took. You came – and you came hard.

And that’s how you ended up with a tattoo of two large handprints wrapped around your waist; two large handprints measured exactly to match Sunghoon’s own measurements; two large handprints placed exactly where Sunghoon always left bruises.

“You wanna show me somethin’?” your boyfriend whispered against your lips, as his hands continued to rub circles over your shirt - well, technically his shirt. Sunghoon continued to snag quick kisses from your lips, sucking in deep breaths from his nose as he relished in the moment. 

You nodded, returning his kisses. Your hands were tangled in his dark locks, thighs straddling his legs on Sunghoon’s bed. It always ended like this. The two of you simply couldn’t keep your hands off each other, even for a moment. 

Sunghoon squeezed your hip as he pulled away from your face. He watched you intently with glassy brown eyes, scanning your delicate features in hopes of getting even a tiny hint at what you had in store for him. “I’m watching,” he said, smirking as you squirmed underneath him. 

Sunghoon’s thumb pressed lightly into your ribs, causing a soft whimper to fall past your lips. He chuckled at your reaction, cocking his head to the side as he licked his lips. Sunghoon raised his eyebrows and bit back a smile as he repeated the action.

You nodded again as your hands moved from his hair to his shoulders. “Don’t be mad,” you said, barely above a whisper, as you began to pull off of him.

Sunghoon had no idea about your tattoo, none at all. You hid it from him well, always making up excuses anytime he tried to take your clothes off. You were on your period, you screamed ‘shit’ as you shot up and pretended you forgot to hand in an assignment, your roommate called you randomly. Well, that last one wasn’t planned, but it sure did happen at the perfect time.

You noticed Sunghoon’s change in behavior over the past month. It wasn’t like he was upset at you for denying him of sex, he was just worried. You were never one to make up shitty excuses in an attempt to get him off of you, you always spoke your mind, yet there you were. Day after day, night after night, pure bullshit slipping past your lips anytime he tried to even put a hand on you.

That’s why Sunghoon was so careful this time. That’s why he made sure to touch you carefully; featherlight as he let you control the pace of the makeout. For the first time in a month - the first time in a whole thirty days - you weren’t running away from him when he tried to touch you. In all honesty, Sunghoon had been starting to wonder if you were planning on breaking up with him entirely.

You stood in front of him as your hands played with the hem of his t-shirt. You bit your lip, gaze never leaving the floor. Slowly, you pulled the hem up until it rested just under your chin.

Silence.

Deafening, terrifying, horrible silence.

You squeezed your eyes shut, mentally cursing Yunjin for convincing you to do such a silly thing. Of course Sunghoon thought this shit was weird, who wouldn’t? You guys weren’t married, there wasn’t a ring on your finger or a claim to you permanently.

So, as you mentally prepared for a disgusted scoff and a breakup speech, you were shocked when a low whistle came out of Sunghoon’s mouth instead. “Look at that,” he said, low and drawn out.

You slowly opened your eyes, peering at him through your lashes. You swallowed thickly, and Sunghoon noted your throat bob. He smirked, biting his lower lip carefully. “What’dwe got here?” 

Sunghoon scooched away from the wall, coming to the edge of the bed. He swung his legs over, spread them wide, and leaned forward on his elbows as he inspected your skin; the skin that used to be bare now adorned with a tattoo of his hands. It was his turn to swallow as his cock stirred in his pants.

Sunghoon reached out to touch you, his hand delicately tracing the pattern on your soft skin. He breathed out a laugh, nodding his head. “Is this why you’ve been hiding from me?” He looked up at you, dark eyes pleading as his thick eyebrows furrowed in. 

You nodded, chin still tucked to your chest. “I was scared you wouldn’t like it.”

Sunghoon scoffed, carefully putting his hands on your waist. They fit perfectly over the tattoo – obviously, they were his hands, after all. He couldn’t help but groan softly at the sight. Yeah, now he was fully hard.

“You’re crazy for thinking that,” he pulled you closer until you were standing in between his legs. Sunghoon kept his hands on your waist as he peppered sweet kisses onto your stomach.

“You’re so fucking hot, babe,” he whispered in between kisses, “everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You squirmed in your spot, leaning into his lips. A soft whimper slipped past your lips, “Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon stopped kissing you, settling his chin onto your stomach as he gazed up at you. His brown eyes were blown out, a glass finish adorning them. “Yeah, baby? What do you want?” His hands wrapped around your waist, settling onto your back before sliding down to your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. A whine escaped you.

“C’mon, use your words,” Sunghoon’s hands traveled back up to your waist, “anything you want – you deserve it.”

You let go of your shirt, allowing it to drop down and cover Sunghoon’s hands that still found themselves on your waist. The hem settled itself on top of Sunghoon’s face and he huffed a laugh. You threaded your fingers through his dark locks, giving his head a soft tug as you pulled him off of your body. 

Your free hand found itself on your boyfriend’s sharp jawline. Back and forth, you rubbed the bone as he leaned into your touch. He was so pretty, you seriously couldn’t believe it. Everyday, your boyfriend woke up just looking like that. Sunghoon walked around with that face, did his schoolwork with that face, fucked you with that face.

Your eyes lit up as you got an idea, and Sunghoon noticed immediately. The corner of his mouth quirked up, revealing his sharp canines. “What’re you thinking, baby?”

You leaned in, connecting your lips with his. Sunghoon accepted – of course he did. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, yet it still held the softness that Sunghoon had been touching you with throughout this whole interaction.

“Kinda wanna ride your face,” you whisper against his lips.

Sunghoon stops his movements instantly upon hearing your words. He sighs, pulling back and resting his forehead against your stomach. Sunghoon peers down to his clothed cock, feeling it throb and beg for relief at the sound of your voice.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, babe.”

You giggle at his words, pulling his hair to remove him off of you. Sunghoon stares at you with hooded eyes, smirking. Slowly, he scooches back onto the bed. Sunghoon lowers himself, back hitting the bed as he languidly palms his cock through his sweatpants. 

His willingness to do this humored you. Sunghoon was a natural born pleaser, through and through. All he wanted to do is make you feel good, he’d said it time and time again. And you’d be damned if he didn’t follow through with his words. So, of course he’s already in position, ready to feel your thighs cage his head in on both sides and taste your sweet fucking pussy.

And his short lived dreams come true, because he feels the weight of your body on his chest, ready for his command to move forward. 

“Take the shirt off,” he says, hand pressed to your stomach to stop you before you can settle on top of him, “I wanna put my hands there.”

You comply, reaching for the hem and dragging it over your head. Sunghoon’s hands fly up to your waist, returning their position to where they’d been for the better half of this exchange. He gave you the cue, and you hovered over his face.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate; he simply pulled you down so your pussy was on his mouth, clit bumping against his nose, full weight on top of his face. Sunghoon was in fucking paradise. There was nothing on this mortal plane Sunghoon loved more than having your soaking pussy on his mouth. His tongue came out, licking a thick stripe from your hole to your clit.

A moan came out of you, your hands reaching for the wall in front of you. Sunghoon’s hands held you down, leaving no room for movement. The only thing you could do was grind your hips further onto his face – exactly where he wanted them.

Lewd noises filled the room, the squelching and slurping of Sunghoon’s rabid movements the cause of most of them. He completely ravaged your pussy, eating you out like his life depended on it. Your moans echoed throughout the space, and each sickeningly sweet noise you emitted simply encouraged him to do more. More licking, more kissing, more suckling your clit.

Sunghoon lived to please, after all.

You were loud, obnoxiously so. One of your hands moved from the wall to Sunhoon’s hair, tangling your fingers in his dark locks and softly tugging at the strands in the way he loved. Sunghoon groaned, the vibrations going straight from your pussy up to your lower stomach where the heat settled.

Every bump of Sunghoon’s nose against your clit, every fat lick of his flattened tongue, every pump of the warm muscle in and out of your hole – it all pushed you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Sunghoon relished in your moans and whimpers, hips bucking up in the air. It didn’t help, didn’t give him an ounce of relief, but he kept doing it. Sunghoon loved eating you out, but he hated being neglected. Sure, maybe he was needy – sue the man.

“Fuck, Hoonie,” you whimpered. Your boyfriend’s hands were digging bruises on your waist, his wrists stretched in an unusual way in an attempt to keep them over your tattoo.

Sunghoon hummed, acknowledging your neediness. He knew what it meant, he knew you were about to cum. So, he quickened his movements. He pumped his tongue in and out, in and out; shook his head side to side to provide stimulation to your swollen clit. 

“Baby – cumming, cumming, fuck!” 

You were a whining mess when you came, voice high pitched as you sounded like you were two seconds away from sobbing. Sunghoon didn’t let up, continuing to eat you out through your orgasm. Only when your tugging got more intense and your moans turned whinier than before (if that was even possible) did Sunghoon stop.

When he did and you moved back onto his chest, he could’ve sworn he’d been transported to heaven.

You stared at him in all his glory. Your slick juices coated his lips and chin and nose, giving the beautiful features a delicate shine to them. Sunghoon licked his lips, collecting as much of your arousal onto his tongue as he could.

“God – I fucking love when you let me do that,” he breathed out, both hands back on your waist. “‘M so hard,” he whined, a strain to his voice. 

You pouted at his words, still trying to collect yourself after your orgasm. Sunghoon removed a hand from your waist, moving to his cock. He palmed himself, a pained whine ripping from his throat at the contact. “Fuck,” he drew out, “yes, baby.”

Sunghoon’s eyes screwed shut, eyebrows furrowed as his lips parted with his words. He softly panted into the air, not even bothering to remove his cock from its confinements – this was simply enough.

And damnit, was it hot. Your boyfriend, so needy and desperate after making you cum that he settled for rubbing his cock through his pants to get off. On any other day, you would’ve offered to help, but the scene was so addicting, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but watch in awe.

Sunghoon’s face was covered in your cum, and it was twisted into something fucked out and needy.

“Please, more,” he choked out, hand picking up its pace.

You leaned forward on his chest, lips connecting to his jaw. Slowly, you peppered kisses along the prominent feature; Sunghoon’s hot breath fanning over your cheek and ear every quick pant. A particularly pathetic whine was ripped out of his throat as he threw his head back.

“Yes – fuck, mommy, yes,” Sunghoon whined as he came quickly, his cum making a milky, sticky mess in his boxers.

You chuckled along his jaw, nipping at the pale skin. A sense of accomplishment swelled in your chest when you heard him hiss. Sunghoon’s shaky hand found your hip, resting on you as he calmed down.

A brief silence filled the room before you whispered, “That was really hot.”

Sunghoon chuckled, hand finding the back of your neck as he pulled you away from his jaw and brought you face to face with him. He brought your lips to his, connecting them in a soft, lazy kiss. The two of you sat like that for a moment, lips tangling and moving only when the two of you wished to continue it.

“That tattoo is really hot,” Sunghoon reiterated against your lips, “you should get more – for me, of course.”

“Sunghoon,” you laughed, breath fanning his lips, “these things are permanent.”

“So? We’re already married, duh.”

“Right,” you said, eyes rolling as you lifted yourself up. You sat there, straddling his waist while your hands slowly slid down his chest to his abs. Sunghoon grabbed your wrist, sensing your intention to get up.

“Swear to God,” he said, a lazy smirk spread across his lips, “gonna let you sit on my face for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah?” You teased him, shaking your head while you got off of him. Your feet hit the cold floor as you grabbed his discarded t-shirt and pulled it over your naked body. “You gonna call me mommy while it happens too?”

A red blush settled across Sunghoon’s cheeks at the mention of his previous words, however he quickly collected his composure. 

“Only if you get it tattooed.”

You grabbed one of his pillows, hurling it at his head. Sunghoon’s hands came up to block his face, an unserious “no!” audible in between his giggles. You rolled your eyes, walking away from the man into the bathroom.

Park Sunghoon was the bane of your existence.

The University’s study lounge buzzes with the sound of students shuffling in their seats, flipping through textbooks, and tapping away on their laptops. But for you, the noise fades into the background as your thoughts are consumed by one person: Park Sunghoon. He's become the bane of your existence, infiltrating your mind at every turn.

You try to focus on your studies, desperately attempting to absorb the intricacies of musical composition and sound design. But you can't do anything, you can’t focus on your assignments, eat, drink or work on your laptop without thinking of him.  Every time you open your textbook, his face flashes before your eyes, distracting you from the task at hand. It's infuriating how effortlessly he invades your thoughts  against your own will. 

Nayoung’s infatuation with Sunghoon has reached insufferable levels ever since they started hooking up. It's all she ever talks about, as if he's some kind of god among men. But for you, he's just another distraction, a nuisance that refuses to leave you alone. Since they started hooking up, she's been relentless, unable to shut up about their sexual exploits. He couldn’t be that good…

For you, it's all just noise. You're simply not interested.

While everyone else on campus is busy fucking like rabbits, you couldn't care less. It's like you're the only one on campus who hasn't been sucked into the sex craze. Your focus is on your studies and your future, not getting laid. It's a stark contrast, but you're fine with being the odd one out.

You try to tune out Nayoung’s incessant chatter, but her voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Shut up, shut up!" she exclaims, slapping your hands hastily and pulling you from your thoughts. You pout in frustration, resisting the urge to snap at her. "I'm not even talking..." you mutter under your breath, huffing in exasperation as you shut your laptop screen down. It's futile to even attempt to get any work done with Sunghoon constantly looming in your mind, taunting you with his presence.

"He's here... He's here! Fuck, he's walking my way and staring at me," Nayoung’s flustered words fill the air as she nervously adjusts her hair, throwing quick glances toward the entrance. You can't help but shake your head at her worry. There's no need for her to fret or make last-minute adjustments— Nayoung is effortlessly attractive, her beauty undeniable and her personality sweetly infectious. She has this casual, confident vibe that's undeniably sexy. It's clear why everyone seems to be wrapped around her little finger.

Then there's Park Sunghoon, making his entrance as if it's the most natural thing in the world to draw every eye in the room. He walks with a confidence that borders on arrogance, an aura around him that's almost too intense. He seems to claim every space he steps into as his own, and today, the cafeteria turns into his domain.

He makes his way over and takes the seat right beside you, as if that spot had been waiting just for him. As he settles in, you find yourself involuntarily gulping a bit, suddenly all too aware of the intensity of his presence. It's undeniable, the aura he carries; a blend of confidence and an almost tangible allure fills the space, charging the air around you. The whole place falls into a hush, the kind of silence that screams of everyone's rapt attention on him, and inevitably, on you by association.

As you catch sight of Sunghoon turning his gaze towards Nayoung, your eyes roll almost instinctively. He reaches out, taking her hand with a gentleness that contradicts his commanding presence, his lips brushing against her skin in a soft kiss. Nayoung’s reaction is immediate; she gulps, visibly struggling to maintain composure, taken aback by the tenderness of his touch.

It's a moment that, despite your usual disinterest, makes you understand just a fraction of the allure that Park Sunghoon carries with him. He's a presence that's hard to ignore, drawing you into his orbit whether you're willing or not.

"We still on for tonight, baby?" Sunghoon's voice sends a shiver down your spine, momentarily silencing the room. Nayoung is completely captivated by him, lost in her own world, unable to form a proper response. But when you nudge her foot with yours, she coughs and says, "Yes, I'll be waiting for you." Her voice is low and sultry, a hint of anticipation laced in her words. "In my bed, all alone, with no clothes on," she continues, biting her lip seductively as she tilts her head and winks at him. "I'll be yours to play with all night long." Her gaze smolders with desire as she waits for his reaction, teasing him with the promise of what's to come.

Sitting beside you, Park Sunghoon has the kind of presence that's impossible to ignore. From what you've heard, the stories that swirl around campus, he's the quintessential heartbreaker - popular, with an air of cockiness that he wears as comfortably as the clothes on his back. He’s dressed casually today, yet every piece seems carefully chosen to accentuate his athletic build—a testament to his dedication as a football player. His fitted t-shirt clings in all the right places, paired with jeans that manage to be both casual and unmistakably deliberate in their fit. His hair, a perfect shade that catches the light, is styled in a seemingly effortless manner, falling just so to frame his striking features.

Sunghoon’s face is a canvas of attractive contrasts; sharp jawlines meet soft, inviting lips, and his eyes, deep and expressive, hold a hint of mischief. There’s a natural symmetry to his features that’s compelling, drawing you in despite any reservations. The easy smirk that often plays across his lips suggests a man who knows his allure and isn’t afraid to use it to his advantage.

But it's not just his looks that have earned him his reputation. He's known to be overconfident, a trait that, combined with his status as a football player, makes him all the more prominent in the social hierarchy of campus life. His charm is scandalous, wielded with the precision of someone who knows just how impactful they are. He's the epitome of a fuckboy, leaving a trail of whispers and rumors in his wake.

Yet, despite the warnings, the stories of hearts left in his path, there's something undeniably captivating about him. He's social, able to navigate any conversation with ease, drawing people in with a magnetism that's hard to resist. And fucking handsome? Absolutely. There's a reason every glance he throws seems to linger, every smile feels like it's meant just for the receiver. It's this mix of danger and allure that makes him an enigma .

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when you catch Sunghoon and Nayoung exchanging glances so intense, they could only be described as eye fucking. And you're almost certain he's touching her under the table. Casting a discreet glance their way, disbelief washes over you. Their boldness in such a public setting is startling—where's the sense of privacy, the modesty? It's a display that leaves you questioning the very notions of discretion and boundaries in social interactions. 

You assumed your silent judgment would go unnoticed, as usual. Being invisible had its perks; it let you navigate these social seas undisturbed, a mode of survival that had become your comfort zone. Yet, just as you side-eye the intimate display between Sunghoon and Nayoung, Jungwon catches your gaze. With a wink, he throws a comment your way, "Don't feel left out, I'll fuck you," assuming a familiarity that you've never invited. 

Your response is immediate and flat, "Shut up," hoping to quash the conversation then and there with your deadpan delivery.

But then Jay chimes in, laughter barely concealed in his voice, "Dude, she's not gonna fuck you, that's the girl who's waiting until marriage." 

At Jay's words, a familiar rumor audible for all to hear, you can't help but roll your eyes. It's not the first time your personal choices became the focus of campus gossip, yet it never gets easier to hear it discussed so openly.

In that moment, Sunghoon's gaze locks with yours, a brief encounter that feels like an eternity. His eyes, sharp and probing, offer no hint of his thoughts, leaving you floundering in their depths. The intensity of his stare is unexpectedly captivating, sending a jolt of weakness through you that's both unsettling and embarrassingly thrilling. Despite the rumors and the situation, you're forced to admit—Sunghoon is undeniably hot.

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it passes. Sunghoon breaks the eye contact, returning to his own world with an ease that suggests he's completely unfazed by Jay's comment. This reaction, or lack thereof, catches you off guard. You had braced yourself for a tease or a quip, something to match Jungwon and Jay's playful torment. Yet, Sunghoon's disinterest and quick dismissal of the conversation leave you in a curious mix of relief and disappointment. 

One day you’re gonna cut Park Sunghoon’s cock off. 

There’s no way he can make a girl scream that loud.

The frustration builds within you as you sit in your room, once again failing to focus on studying the medical procedures you need to know by tomorrow. And who’s to blame? Park Sunghoon, of course. It’s the second time today his fucking with Nayoung has derailed your concentration. Normally, living with her is a joy; she’s your best friend, your better half. But in moments like these, you wish you could live alone, away from the constant distractions of her sex life.

She gets laid a lot, it’s a regular occurrence in your shared apartment. She’s louder than she normally is tonight, her moans and screams echoing through the walls without a hint of restraint. You try to drown out the noise, burying your head in your textbooks, but it's futile. You can't focus, your mind consumed by thoughts of Sunghoon and his cock. 

(Unfortunately) 

Eventually, the noise subsides, and you cautiously step out of your room, relieved that Sunghoon seems to have finally left. But as you round the corner, a low, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze in your tracks. He's still here. 

Panic sets in as you realise how you're practically walking around naked in an oversized top and short shorts, no bra to conceal your exposed skin. You curse under your breath, desperate to escape to the safety of your room, but you know he'll see and hear you if you make a move now.

With no other option, you dart behind the sofa, thankful for its strategic placement that shields you from his view. Heart racing, you hold your breath, praying he doesn't notice you hiding just a few feet away.  

Unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon's attention isn't on Nayoung; he wouldn't have recognized your presence even if you made noise. You're pretty sure Nayoung doesn't realize you're here either. Sunghoon is shirtless, basking in the afterglow of sex, but his focus isn't on Nayoung; he's not even looking at her.

The moment he entered the house for the first time, Sunghoon became enamored. It felt as though he was right where he was supposed to be. His eyes lit up with surprise and thrill as he noticed certain things and items that caught his attention—things he found cool and eye-catching. Despite never having been in this house before, it felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

His eyes sparkled with a light that you should've seen, a light that no other girl had brought to him before. "How did you get this?" he asks Nayoung in awe, marveling at a rare Lego set. 

"I didn't. It's my roommate's," she replies, her features showing amusement and disinterest. You had so many nerdy and niche things lying around, and Nayoung found none of them interesting.

Sunghoon spots a rare album, one he's never seen anyone have before. "This is really cool. I didn't know you were into—"

 "Yeah, that's also my roommate's," Nayoung interrupts. 

Sunghoon shakes his head in amusement, his eyes landing on a book, ‘Normal People' by Sally Rooney.  "What about this?” 

"A birthday gift from my roommate. I haven't checked it out yet," Nayoung replies.

"Oh, you should. It's really cool," Sunghoon says, scratching his head. He's about to apologise, realising he's delving too much into your personal space. But then his eyes land on a bass guitar and the apology fails to slip from his tongue. "Do you play bass? I always say that my ideal woman—" Sunghoon catches himself, sighing as he realises Nayoung silence. "—does not play bass, because this is clearly your roommate's."

"She's in a band," Nayoung says simply. 

"Damn, that's cool," Sunghoon whispers. "What's she like?" 

You gulp nervously, wondering why Park Sunghoon wants to know about you. You’re not used to the feeling of someone being interested in you, you’re not used to someone wanting to find out more and uncover you. It's incredibly foreign and unfamiliar. 

“She's in the matrix, she's a whore," Nayoung says, and you open your mouth in shock. What the fuck? No, you were not!

Sunghoon chuckles, and you realise Nayoung was just joking. Her next words warm your heart. "She's the best person I've ever met. She's really chill and calm, sweet to everyone, and fair. She has a really good heart. She's different from everyone we see on campus, different in a good way. She's a bit of a nerd; her main worries in life are how to get the next rare Lego set or make sure she has enough time to balance being in her band, acing all her med exams, and doing all that volunteering and extracurricular crap. She's a breath of fresh air."

Nayoung shakes her head with a dry chuckle. "This is unbelievable. You just picked out all the things in here that belong to my roommate. You didn't even spare a glance at the stuff that's mine.”

Yeah, because they're not interesting, Sunghoon thinks.

Nayoung eyes all of your possessions and shakes her head. She turns to Sunghoon. "It's really weird stuff, and I'm really shocked you find it interesting. I didn't expect it from you. I've never seen someone as interested in it... other than you and my roommate."

“My roommate is into pretty weird stuff. She does these weird paintings of robots playing sports.” 

Sunghoon scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, that’s weird…” (He thought it sounded pretty cool). 

“She also has this crazy habit of making breakfast food sing show tunes, I mean, it’s not that annoying because she’s an amazing singer, she’s in a band so I’ll give that to her.”

"So does your roommate's band ever play shows or...?" Sunghoon asks.

"Get out," Nayoung bluntly says, pointing her arm towards the door.

Nayoung sighs; this always happens. Nayoung had a roommate complex. Unbeknownst to you, guys always dug her roommate, you. Only you would never know the full extent or seriousness of this, as you would never return the affection or interest. You were robotic, denying all forms of affection, so nothing ever came from guys wanting to fuck you. Paired with the rumor that you were strictly Christian and waiting until marriage to fuck, yeah, you weren’t going to get laid anytime soon. 

She takes a seat on the sofa and nearly jumps when she sees you sleeping there soundly. She didn’t know that you staged this; you knew she’d come to the couch after Sunghoon left, so you had to pretend you were sleeping. You couldn’t let Nayoung or Sunghoon know that you had heard and witnessed that entire interaction. She smiles at you and covers you in the blankets fully, readjusting your head and dimming the lights. She wasn’t surprised that you drew attention without trying to or even knowing that people were into you. 

She did have a really fucking cool roommate.

The next morning, Nayoung looks sad, her shoulders slumped as she sits at the kitchen table, picking at her breakfast. You take in her demeanor, noting the furrow in her brow and the downturn of her lips. You have to put your acting skills to use, masking the knowledge of why she's upset with a concerned expression. You go to her immediately, your voice filled with worry, "What's wrong? Did he? I'm gonna kill him—"

Nayoung huffs softly, a mix of frustration and resignation in her breath. "We're gonna stop seeing each other," she explains, her voice tinged with sadness.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you're about to throw hands but she shakes her head and tells you to calm down, making ‘no’ motions, a small smile playing at her lips. She shakes her head and chuckles softly, "No, he did nothing wrong. I'm not gonna miss him. I know this was just sex, but god, he's really attractive and has a good personality. I'm not getting caught up, but wow, I just feel overwhelmed and intense. How can someone be such an attractive and hot person and know how to use his cock?"

You're at a loss for words, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to find the right response. You were awkward when it came to emotional conversations, you didn’t know how to comfort someone! One to one intimate moments like this overwhelmed you. However, Nayoung drops a bomb that leaves you speechless and stunned.

"And he likes you."

You choke on your own breath, your eyes widening in disbelief as you shake your head vehemently. "Me? What? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Nayoung, no he doesn’t! He doesn’t even know who I am."

Inner turmoil consumes you as conflicting thoughts swirl in your mind. How could someone like Sunghoon possibly be interested in you? You've never exchanged a single word, never shared a moment beyond fleeting glances in passing. Logically, it doesn't add up; you're strangers. He revels in the chaos of getting high and fuckinf, while you find solace in quiet evenings, lost in the intricate world of LEGO creations and the soothing melody of your bass guitar. It's inconceivable that someone like him could find anything remotely intriguing in someone like you.

"I'm telling you. He likes you. It's true! He pointed out every single thing in the living room that was yours. He likes all the things you do. He's a nerd like you."

Your voice cracks with disbelief, your hands gesturing in denial as you try to process Nayoung's words. "Park Sunghoon? Nerd? He's far from... he's a fuckboy and a football player, he's popular and parties like there's no tomorrow, he smokes and does drugs and—"

"Y/N! You know better than to stereotype. Yes, he does party, is popular, and loves fucking, but he's more than that. He's obviously more than that, and it's not like he hides it. You're only seeing what you want to see. The image you have of him in your head is an image that is surface level. He's actually a good guy, he doesn’t think of himself as above people, and he's chill and kind. He aces exams, and he fucking knows about all the rare little Legos like you do, so he’s clearly a nerd!"

You sigh heavily, feeling a mix of frustration and realization wash over you. Nayoung was right. You were only seeing what you wanted to see. Your idea of him was so fixed and stubborn that you refused to look deeper, beyond the surface.

"It’s like you, Y/N. People only see you as that nerdy, quiet loner who doesn’t talk to anyone and doesn’t drink or party. People think you’re weird—"

"Gee, thanks a lot," you cut off Nayoung's words, sarcastically thanking her for her honesty.

"But I know that you’re way more than that! Your main focus may be your studies, but you’ve got so many cute little side interests! It all adds to your personality and it’s all important. It shouldn’t be overlooked. It makes you who you are. Not only are you a med student, but you’re also in a fucking band! You’re the bassist! It’s fucking hot and cool, Y/N. Park Sunghoon even asked for the name of your band."

What you knew about Park Sunghoon’s cock was against your own will. 

Nayoung’s words echo in your mind, each syllable sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. "Sunghoon’s literally so good at dirty talk," she continues, her voice dripping with excitement. "He knows exactly how to please a woman. He doesn’t just stick his dick in and out. He actually has superb technique." 

You breathe heavily, shutting your laptop once and for all. "If you and Sunghoon have stopped seeing each other then why are you telling me this?" you interrupt, unable to conceal the frustration in your voice. Nayoung and Yeji exchange a glance, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they exchange silent communication. It's like they're speaking a language that only they understand, leaving you feeling increasingly left out and confused.

Nayoung and Eunji exchanged a look, and it utterly confused you. They'd been giving each other these secretive glances for the past week, making you desperately wish you could tap into whatever little secret they were keeping. Yet, whenever you brought it up, they simply shifted the topic.

"You guys are seriously starting to annoy me," you finally snap, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Can you just tell me whatever the fuck it is you’re thinking about?" You're met with a knowing smirk from both Nayoung and Eunji, their lips quirking into sly smiles as they continue to exchange secretive glances.

Nayoung leans in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she continues to regale you with tales of Sunghoon’s abilities in the bedroom. "You know, Sunghoon’s not just about the physical stuff," she says cryptically, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite decipher. 

Eunji nods in agreement, her lips quirking into a sly smile as she adds, "He’s got this way of making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world when he’s with you. Once he went down on me and I couldn’t walk for days."

Your eyes widen in surprise at Eunji’s revelation, feeling a mix of shock and arousal coursing through you. "When did you fuck him?" you blurt out, unable to conceal your curiosity. 

She just laughs, shaking her head as she brushes off your question with ease. "We’ve casually fucked from time to time," she says nonchalantly. "It’s not that shocking, Y/N. His body count is high, after he broke up with Arin, his cock has been unstoppable."

You huff in disbelief. "Who has he not fucked?" you mutter under your breath, your mind reeling with thoughts of Sunghoon's sexual conquests. 

"You," Nayoung and Eunji say simultaneously, their words hitting you like a ton of bricks. Silence falls over you as you process their words, feeling a strange mix of shock and excitement swirling inside you.

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you stammer, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you at their cryptic words. 

Nayoung just smirks. “Nothing. I’m just telling you how good he is in bed.” You had a feeling she was lying. She had her reasons and motives, ones you were far from understanding.

"And why is that of use to me?" you question, expecting an answer. You turn to Sunwoo when you’re met with silence from the girls.

"Sunwoo, help me," you nudge him from beside you, knowing you could trust your closest and oldest friend.

You sigh in relief when he turns to the two girls. “Leave her alone, this Sunghoon thing is ridiculous, he’s way out of her league.” His words bring you peace and you rest your head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I love you, Y/N, but no one is out of Sunghoon’s league. If anything, it’s the other way around,” Nayoung retorts.

“Thanks a lot,” you snort.

“It’s not just you, everyone is out of his league,” Eunji clarifies.

“I’m not,” Sunwoo says dryly.

“You shut up!” Eunji points an accusing finger at Sunwoo. “I know you have protective, brotherly tendencies when it comes to Y/N, but you have to admit… our girl needs cock!”

He turns to you, a knowing smirk that only the two of you will understand. “You do really need to get laid though,” he says in a low voice. 

Nayoung goes back to praising Sunghoon for his sexual abilities. “And let me tell you, his dirty talk is next level,” 

A devilish grin spreads across Eunji’s face as she shares a smirk with Nayoung, recalling one of her past encounters with Sunghoon. “I’ve never had sex with someone who has such good timing and pace,” she confesses. "He knows exactly what to do with his cock, hands, and lips, and where to do it."

"He’s not just in it for himself, you know," Eunji adds, her tone serious as she looks you straight in the eye. "He genuinely cares about his partner’s pleasure. He’s the perfect person to experience all of your firsts with."

"Hey!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of indignation rising up inside you. "This feels very targeted and personal," you accuse, your voice cracking with frustration. "Where is this coming from?" 

You had never spoken a word to Park Sunghoon in your life. Sure, you noticed that he seemed to take an interest in your belongings around the apartment, but that wasn't enough to warrant Nayoung and Eunji sudden push to get you interested in him. It all felt too orchestrated, too deliberate, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their agenda than they were letting on. Despite their efforts to convince you otherwise, you remained skeptical about the idea of getting involved with someone like Sunghoon, especially considering your vastly different personalities and lifestyles.

"I'm not saying you have to jump into bed with him right away," Nayoung says, her voice softening with sincerity. "But maybe give him a chance. You might be surprised. I know what you're gonna say, 'He's the Park Sunghoon, campus fuckboy and resident player, we're in completely different leagues and scenes, and we'll never get along.'" Nayoung mimics your voice, and you narrow your eyes.

"I sound nothing like that!" you frown, realizing you sounded exactly like that.

"Just think about it, Y/N," Nayoung says, her voice tinged with excitement.

"I'm not gonna think about it, my mind is gonna be on the gig I have tonight. You guys better be there!" you declare. 

Nayoung's response comes with a gleam in her eye, a spark of something mischievous lurking beneath her casual assurance. "Oh, we wouldn't miss it for the world," she says, her glance sliding over to Yeji as they share a knowing look. They wink at each other, sealing a silent pact, the first stage of their mission to bring you and Sunghoon closer is already in motion. 

Sunghoon received a text from Nayoung, inviting him to meet for some drinks at the bar. The anticipation of a night filled with pleasure courses through his veins, driving him to accept the invitation without hesitation.

He goes because he anticipates getting laid. Sunghoon enjoyed the sex with Nayoung, as he did with any other girl. He had an insatiable appetite for sex, and he never shied away from indulging in it. However, he was always respectful and mindful of boundaries. His partners knew that he was only seeking physical satisfaction, and he made sure they felt just as much pleasure as they gave him.

It didn’t matter to him if Nayoung's personality didn’t align with his; he was solely focused on fulfilling his carnal desires. Feeling sexually frustrated, Sunghoon eagerly heads to the bar, eager to find release in Nayoung's company.

Feeling sexually frustrated and on edge, Sunghoon's steps quicken as he approaches the bar, the dim lights and pulsing music heightening his senses. He craves the distraction, the temporary oblivion that comes with losing himself in the warmth of another body. And so, with a determined stride, he pushes open the door.

As Sunghoon strides into the dimly lit bar, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol and anticipation, he feels a rush of excitement course through him. Dressed in a sleek leather jacket that hugs his form, he exudes an air of rugged charm and allure as he scans the room, his eyes alight with anticipation.

The bar is cast in shadows, a dimly lit sanctuary with a retro flair that gives it an air of timeless charm. Neon signs flicker softly against the dark walls, casting a warm, inviting glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. The atmosphere is a blend of nostalgia and mystery, each corner telling a story, each shadow holding a secret. Vinyl records adorn one wall, a nod to the classics, while the low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses provide a steady soundtrack to the night.

A familiar tingle zips through him, it’s an echo of the sensation he felt that first time he crossed the threshold into your apartment, a sense of rightness, of being exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Something shifts inside him. The retro vibe, combined with the sultry air, sets a scene that's both familiar and charged with new energy. Shadows dance across the walls, and the music's pulse syncs with his own heartbeat, signaling a night of unexpected turns.

Amidst the noise and the crowd, Sunghoon spots Nayoung. She's there, laughing, surrounded by friends, exactly where he should want to be. But he doesn’t move towards her. Instead, there's a compelling force, a curiosity leading him elsewhere, towards something—or someone—he hadn't anticipated.

It’s You. 

Amongst the faces, yours catches his gaze like a lighthouse in the fog. It's inexplicable, this sudden redirection of his night, his desires. Something inside him has decided, without a word, that the night was never really about Nayoung. It was about discovering what he didn't even know he was looking for—until now.

Perched on the stage, bathed in the soft glow of the neon lights, you exude a magnetic energy that draws him in like a match to its flame. You were breathtaking. Dressed in a mini skirt that accentuates every curve of your ass and thighs, paired with a top that leaves little to the imagination, you radiate confidence and sensuality that leaves Sunghoon spellbound.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as Sunghoon’s gaze locks with yours, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you. In that instant, he feels a surge of desire unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Who were you? He was sure that you were one of the students at the college, he was sure he had seen you before. He’s just shocked that this is the first time he’s recognising how hot you are. 

In that fleeting moment, as Sunghoon's eyes meet yours, time itself seems to pause, the air charged with an electric tension. His gaze, intense and unyielding, speaks of a yearning that goes beyond mere attraction, hinting at depths of desire that are raw and untamed. As your smile fades, replaced by a questioning frown, the atmosphere thickens with unspoken possibilities, a palpable sense of what could be.

The sudden break in your smile sends a pang through Sunghoon, a silent plea for the connection not to sever. The eye contact between you is a live wire, sparking with the potential to ignite. Amidst the crowd, amidst the noise, there's a silent conversation happening, a dance of glances that speaks volumes.

Your mind races with questions. Why was Park Sunghoon here? He was the campus heartbreak and residential fuckboy, the last person you’d expect to see you play. You always assumed no one ever found you interesting so why does his interest seem to settle on you tonight? His reputation precedes him, yet here he is, looking at you with an intensity that suggests a desire for something more profound than his usual pursuits. 

You weren't naive, why was he looking at you like he wanted you? Like he wanted to fuck you. Why now? His gaze, laden with an unmistakable intensity, seeks to pierce through the layers, to see beyond the facade everyone else sees.

Your band commands the space. The rhythm is captivating, a vibrant blend of guitar riffs and drum beats that fills the room with an infectious energy. You're on the bass, and it's clear this is a passion. The bass itself is a striking piece, its sleek, polished wood and the smooth curves of its body reflecting the stage lights.

As Sunghoon watches, he can't help but marvel at the skill in your fingers. The way they dance and glide over the strings, with precision and a sort of grace that's both powerful and delicate, stirs something unexpected in him. His gaze fixates on your hands, fingers moving in perfect harmony with the music, and a primal desire ignites within him.

The thought of those talented fingers exploring your own body, tracing every curve and fold, sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He imagines the sensation of your touch, firm yet gentle. Lost in the moment, Sunghoon feels a surge of arousal building within him, his breath hitching as he envisions your fingers delving deeper. 

What fucks him up even more is when you smile at him, such an innocent smile that makes his chest tighten with an unexpected surge of desire. It's a smile that lights up your entire face, eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Sunghoon's veins.

As you lock eyes with him and smile, Sunghoon feels as though the air has been knocked out of his lungs. You look breathtaking, radiant in the soft glow of the stage lights, your beauty almost otherworldly in its intensity. Every curve and contour of your features seems to be highlighted. 

You had no idea what he was thinking, so oblivious to the effect you had on him. It was maddening how effortlessly captivating you were, how your mere presence could stir such intense longing within him.

He knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, shouldn’t be so turned on by you. Desperately trying to regain control of his thoughts, Sunghoon attempts to focus on the other members of the band. They exude coolness, lost in the music and their own world. But for all their visual appeal, none of them compare to you.

In that moment, Sunghoon finds himself singularly captivated by you, unable to tear his gaze away as he succumbs to the intoxicating allure of your presence.

He’s not the only one. The energy of the room has shifted, centering on your presence on stage. It's palpable, the way you've drawn every eye towards you. You're undeniably magnetic, a fact made evident by the sea of faces turned in your direction, yet what truly fascinates Sunghoon, what truly fucks his mind, is your obliviousness to the effect you're having. You’re just lost in the music, not looking for any approval or basking in the spotlight. This contrast, between how much you stand out and your indifference to it, really catches him.

Though he can't hear your laugh over the music, he sees the way your shoulders shake, the brightness in your eyes, and he knows—it's a sound he wants to discover, to keep. A smile, unbidden, spreads across his face, mirroring the joy he sees in you. It's a strange, fluttery feeling that takes residence in his chest, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating. 

Nayoung makes her way through the crowd to him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She leans in close, her fingers tracing a daring path down his back and over his thighs. Her touch, bold and teasing, makes his heart skip a beat. "You wish that was Y/N touching you, right?" she whispers, her voice a blend of mischief and suggestion.

Turning to face her, Sunghoon's eyes darken, a smoulder of intensity burning within them as he contemplated her words. "Y/N?" The name, unfamiliar and yet suddenly significant, rolls off his tongue.

Nayoung's nod is all the confirmation he needs. "Yeah, she's the one. She's my roommate," she reveals, each word painting a clearer picture in his mind.

"I'm off to Jake's house, but you're staying here, right? Y/N normally walks home from the bar. Maybe you could offer to walk her, maybe keep her company. Our apartment is going to be empty… use your imagination." With a final wink, she slips away.

As Sunghoon steps out into the cool night, he spots you alone under a streetlamp, the smoke from your cigarette curling into the night air. As you take another drag, the ember glows, casting a soft light on your features. He’s mesmerised by the sight, a girl smoking would always be hot to him, the sight of the smoke framing your face proves that. It gives you a mysterious vibe, making you appear all the more captivating and irresistibly sexy in his eyes.

Drawn to you, he moves closer and asks if he can join. Noticing his gaze linger, you offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. You offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. As he accepts, your fingers brush against his, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. There’s a charged energy in the way your gazes lock. As he inhales, his jawline becomes more pronounced, the smoke curling around him like a caress. There’s a deliberate slowness to his exhale, the smoke weaving between you, creating an intimate veil. 

As the conversation between you and Sunghoon progresses, you find yourself surprisingly at ease in his presence. Normally, you'd keep your guard up, especially around someone as notorious as Sunghoon, but tonight, there's something different. Before you realize it, you're drawing him in closer, the usual barriers falling away. You might have blamed it on alcohol, but you're sober, leaving the connection between you both intriguingly genuine.

Conversation starts light, with Sunghoon leaning in slightly, the warmth of the moment closing the distance between you. "Watching you tonight… I was taken aback, you’re really good," he says, his voice low and appreciative, tinged with genuine admiration.

You laugh softly, a bit of surprise flickering across your face at his observation. "I just love playing, didn't think anyone actually noticed," you reply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a hint of bashfulness in your smile.

"Oh, trust me, it's hard not to notice," Sunghoon continues, his gaze steady on you, making sure you understand he's talking about more than just the music.

You giggle, feeling a mix of flattery and nervousness under his focused attention. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I'm usually just hoping I don't mess up the chords," you respond, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone, even as his compliment sends a warm flutter through you.

"Mess up? I think you could play anything and make it sound incredible," he asserts, a playful yet sincere edge to his words. His flirtatious confidence is smooth, but it's his underlying earnestness that catches you off guard, drawing an unguarded smile from you.

The conversation flows, creating a comfortable yet charged atmosphere. Your laughter comes more easily. With a playful smirk, Sunghoon’s eyes trail down your figure, appreciating the way your tight top accentuates your curves and your skirt hugs your hips and thighs. “You look stunning,” he comments, his tone flirtatious yet respectful.

Blushing at his compliment, you giggle softly and playfully respond, “I thought I looked pretty today.”

Sunghoon’s gaze meets yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. “You look hot,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

Your cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink as you accept Sunghoon's jacket, letting out a soft giggle that speaks volumes of your appreciation and the fluttering emotions within. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice light and airy, tinged with a mix of gratitude and a growing warmth that has little to do with the dropping temperatures around you.

The way Sunghoon looked at you changed everything. You had noticed his eyes when you were on the stage and you’re noticing it now. The opinions you had formed about him, the guard you had meticulously built up, the walls you constructed around yourself—all of it began to crumble the moment his gaze met yours. You found yourself inexplicably drawn towards him, a magnetic pull you couldn't resist. 

There's just something about him.

There's something about his eyes, particularly striking, that makes it impossible for you to look away. It's as if they hold a depth of understanding and kindness, captivating you, making you feel seen and acknowledged in a way that's disarmingly comforting.

There's something about his smile, too. It's genuine, radiant even, cutting through your defenses as if they were made of paper. His smile seems to speak directly to your soul, warming you from the inside out, and making the corners of your own lips twitch upwards in response.

You can't help but admit, there's something about him—something undeniably compelling that makes you feel like you’re rediscovering something familiar, a connection that's both unexpected and deeply welcome.

You start to shiver, you’re not sure whether it’s because of the weather or how he’s making you feel. Sunghoon, noticing your discomfort, doesn't hesitate. He smoothly takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth from the jacket contrasts sharply with the cool air. 

As Sunghoon's jacket settles around your shoulders, the immediate sensation is one of warmth, the material soft against your skin. The jacket, slightly too large, feels like a hug, a protective barrier against the chill. But it's his scent that truly captivates you — infused with notes of wood and spice, subtle yet distinctly masculine. 

Sunghoon's gaze inadvertently falls on your arm. There, slightly peeking out from under the fabric, is a tattoo that immediately captures his attention. It's a butterfly, intricately designed, its wings seemingly crafted from delicate wisps of ashes, as if it has risen, reborn from the remnants of a past life. The detail is exquisite, symbolising transformation, resilience, and the beauty of emerging stronger from challenges.

"That's... I have the same tattoo," Sunghoon reveals, his voice tinged with disbelief and a newfound depth of connection. 

For a moment, the world seems to pause, the ambient noise of your surroundings fading into the background as you lock eyes. The eye contact is intense, it’s as if the discovery of your matching tattoos has unveiled a deeper layer of understanding, a serendipitous link that neither of you expected but both inherently feel.

The butterfly, for you, symbolizes a journey through personal trials, a testament to the strength it takes to rise anew. For Sunghoon, it represents a parallel path, a reminder of his own resilience and the transformative power of embracing change. 

You feel a surge of heat pooling in your core as he shifts slightly, his movements drawing you in closer. “Are you okay with me showing you?” he asks, voice low and husky, dripping with seduction. It sends a rush of heat straight to your core.  You narrow your eyes, confused but nod immediately, your chest tightening and your eyes firing when you realise what he means. It’s a tattoo under his shirt, and the thought of him revealing it to you ignites a fiery desire within you.

Your heart races as you meet his gaze, your eyes smouldering with desire. With a deliberate yet sensual touch, you place your hand on his, stopping him from lifting his shirt. “Do you want to come home with me?” you whisper, surprised at how forward you’re being but this feels right. Your voice is laced with longing and need. You can feel the electricity crackling between you, the air thick with anticipation.

A wicked grin spreads across Sunghoon’s lips as he gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. “You can show me then. I have a tattoo on my thigh too that I want to show you,” you add, your words sending a surge of arousal through both of you. The tension between you is palpable, the desire for each other burning hotter with every passing moment.

Ultimately, you made the first move. The walk back home was charged with an energy that couldn't be ignored, an undeniable sexual tension that seemed to pull you both closer with every step. Heated glances were exchanged, each look sending a clear message of the attraction between you.

The moment the front door clicked shut, you seized him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him into you with an urgency that bordered on desperation. His lips crashed against yours like a tidal wave, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed you both. It was a kiss fueled by the electric charge that had crackled between you since the moment you laid eyes on each other.

His lips were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins. He knew exactly how to move his lips against yours, each brush and caress igniting a blaze of longing deep within you. The taste of him, a heady blend of musk and spice, lingered on your lips, driving you to explore every inch of his mouth.

His tongue traced the outline of your lips with a teasing flick, coaxing them to part with an insistence. His tongue delved deep into the recesses of your mouth, seeking out every hidden corner with an eager hunger. Your tongues tangled together with a longing that left you both breathless. With each stroke and caress, the intensity of the kiss grew. 

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space between you, his body pressing against yours with a delicious urgency. You tangled your fingers in his hair, each touch and pull of his hair igniting a wildfire of need within you.

As you stumbled blindly through the room, knocking over objects in your path, you couldn't bring yourself to care about the mess you left in your wake. You knocked over one of your lego sets, one that took endless hours to build but in that moment, all that mattered was kissing him, the taste of him on your lips, and the overwhelming need that consumed you both.

Sunghoon’s hands are rough and eager as he rips your top off, the fabric tearing with a satisfying sound that echoes in the room. He wastes no time in unzipping your mini skirt, but the tightness proves to be a challenge. You both share a moment of laughter, the sound muffled by your desperate kisses, as he struggles to pull it down your legs. 

Giggles mix with moans as you continue to ravage each other. You dragged him impossibly closer, as if trying to meld your bodies together into one. His arms wrapped around you, his hands roaming over your back and shoulders, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You detach your lips for just a moment, recapturing your breath, then you leap into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The sensation of his body against yours was electrifying. Your breath mingled with his, hot and heavy against each other’s mouths as you panted and moaned. 

"Who's home?" he breathes out, desperation lacing his words, a different side of him emerging with a heavier, more urgent tone.

"No one. Just us," you reply, your voice a low, throaty moan, thick with desire.

You've heard Chaeyoung talk about her experiences with him, listened to her descriptions of how it felt to fuck him. You knew more about what you were getting yourself into than you let on. She had mentioned how he was softer in the beginning, but that wasn't what you wanted.

"I don't want you to hold back. I don't want you to be soft," you pant out, the words dripping with raw need and insatiable longing. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it," you demand, your voice husky with desire, your eyes blazing with primal hunger.

In response, he lets out a low, primal moan, almost a growl, that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze and igniting a fire in the depths of your core.

He throws you onto the bed, a rush of exhilaration coursing through you as you land with a soft thud. His lips remain locked with yours, refusing to break the connection as he positions himself on top of you.

With a fierce determination, he discards your lace bra and thong, his hands moving with precision and purpose. As you lay exposed before him, you feel the heat in his eyes, a primal desire burning bright as he admires every inch of your bare form. His growl of appreciation sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that can only be quenched by his touch.

Between kisses, he whispers, "You don't know how much I've wanted to see every inch of your skin like this," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. His lips continue their exploration, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. He murmurs, "I've been thinking about you all night long,"

Between kisses, he whispers, "Thinking about how you'd moan my name as I take every inch of you," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. "The feeling of your body underneath mine, how it would arch and tremble," he continues, his breath hot against your skin. "Feeling your tight pussy gripping me.” He confesses, his words sending a surge of heat straight to your core. 

Your whimper, feeling utterly speechless, yet you manage to muster one pleading request. "Take your clothes off," you whine, pouting as the realisation sinks in that he remains fully clothed against your bare skin. 

He responds with a shake of his head, a smile dancing on his lips. "Not now," he murmurs before returning his focus to admiring every inch of your body. "You're so fucking pretty," he purrs, his voice low and husky with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. He groans softly, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your beauty, longing to taste every inch of your skin.

His body presses down against yours with unyielding force, the weight of him grounding you to the mattress. You can feel every contour of his form pressing into you, every muscle tense with desire as he hungrily devours you.

The sensation of him against you is overwhelming, a reminder of his presence as he presses closer, leaving no space between you. Your breath hitches when you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock rubbing against your thigh, igniting a fire of need within you.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses in his wake. Each touch leaves behind a mark of his possession, a hickey to brand you as his own in the heat of the moment.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a scorching path of hot, wet kisses in his wake. His kisses are possessive and rough, each touch a declaration of his dominance as he claims you as his own. With each press of his lips against your skin, he leaves behind a red mark of his possession, his lips tugging at your skin with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, leaving behind teeth marks that throb with a sensation that borders on ecstasy.

With a lingering kiss that sets your senses ablaze, he teases your lips before trailing down your body with determined intent. Each movement is deliberate, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine.

As he reaches your nipples, he captures them between his lips with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His tongue dances across your sensitive peaks, tracing intricate patterns before swirling around them in long, languid strokes. The sensation is electric, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you as he sucks and licks with an insatiable hunger.

"Fuck," you moan, your voice dripping with need as he drives you wild with pleasure. "Sunghoon," you urge, your fingers grasping at his hair as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation.

"Harder," you demand, your voice laced with desperation as you beg for more of his intoxicating touch. "I need you to make me cum," you whimper, your body arching towards him as he complies with your wishes, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment and you can’t help but feel his smirk against your skin. 

With every tug of his hair, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your nipples. As he trails scorching kisses down your body, every touch sets your skin ablaze with desire, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips linger over every inch of your flesh, igniting a firestorm of need that consumes you from within.

"That's it, good girl, cum for me," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a sultry whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His head rests against your thigh, his gaze locked with yours as he watches you with dazed eyes, the intensity of his stare driving you wild with desire.

"Keep your eyes on me when you cum," he demands, his voice low and deep, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You whimper in response, your hands trembling as you remove them from covering your face, laying them by your sides as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

As he locks his hands with yours, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his fingers coaxing and guiding you towards ecstasy. "Cum all over my tongue, pretty girl, can you do that for me?" he urges, his voice a husky growl that ignites a firestorm of need deep within you.

As the tension coils tighter within you, you feel your release building, a primal urge threatening to consume you entirely. With a tight grip on his hands, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling with anticipation.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your senses overwhelmed as you feel yourself spiraling into ecstasy. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of intense pleasure dance across your vision, colors swirling in a sensation.

He smashes his lips against yours, the kiss suffocating but so hot and heated that it sends a jolt of desire coursing through your veins. As he breaks away from the kiss, his words hang in the air, a response to the desire you had expressed earlier.

You notice a shift in him, a different look in his eyes that sends a thrill of excitement down your spine. There's a hot, intense side to him that you hadn't expected, a side that turns you on more than you could have imagined.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Sunghoon whispers huskily, his lips trailing languid kisses all over your face. 

His gaze softens with anticipation as he waits for your response, and you find yourself ready to comply. You nod eagerly, but he just tuts, wanting a clear answer.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, his voice a mixture of softness and anticipation, contrasting with the demanding tone in his voice. He's really asking you? You hadn't expected this, never experienced this level of openness and desire before.

"I - I..." you begin, stumbling over your words, unsure how to articulate your deepest desires.

"Baby, don't hold back," he tuts gently, his index finger resting at the bottom of your chin, keeping your gaze locked on his.

"Don't laugh at me," you pout. 

"Why would I do that?" His voice deepens, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he reassures you with his words.

 "I - I want you to be rough," you finally admit, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you to slap me, choke me, spit on me. I don't want you to be gentle. I want to see if you live up to the hype of being this 'sex god' that everyone claims you are. I - just do whatever you want to me. Use me and control me."

Your confession leaves you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you await his reaction. You gasp in shock at your own words, your eyes widening in disbelief at the boldness of your desires. But as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but desire and hunger reflected back at you, fueling the fire of anticipation burning between you.

His movements are confident and commanding as he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You dare not look away, captivated by the raw desire burning in his eyes. With his other hand, he traces the curves of your body, his touch rough and demanding, igniting a fire within you.

As his fingers trail lower, teasing your already sensitive peaks, you gasp at the electrifying sensation. A low growl escapes his lips as he feels how wet you already are, his finger slipping effortlessly into your eager heat.

“Fuck, you’re already dripping?” he murmurs, his voice laced with desire and disbelief. “I haven’t even touched you yet, needy slut.” 

You moan as his fingers slide effortlessly into your eager heat, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. He doesn't hold back, pushing deeper with each thrust, stretching you to accommodate his every movement. The rough pads of his fingertips brush against your sensitive walls, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, craving more of his intoxicating touch.

He adds another finger, and then another, the stretch deliciously overwhelming as he fills you completely. You can feel the pressure building, the tight coil of pleasure threatening to unravel at any moment. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent and relentless as he drives you closer to the edge. You can't help but cry out, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

With each stroke, he pushes you closer and closer to the brink, until finally, you shatter into a million pieces, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure he's given you.

"I want you to eat me out –" you manage to breathe out, your voice trembling with anticipation and need.

With a hungry glint in his eyes, Sunghoon positions you just how he likes, spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. His touch is demanding, yet precise, as he dips his fingers between your slick folds, reveling in the wetness that greets him. Already, he's moved his head down, and you eagerly cage it between your thighs, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Throwing your legs around his shoulders, you pull him closer, urging him to delve deeper. And delve he does, his tongue tracing intricate patterns along your throbbing heat, each stroke sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body. There's no gentleness in his approach; he's forceful, relentless, determined to devour you whole.

He attacks your clit with fervor, his tongue flicking against it with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place as he intensifies his assault, his head bobbing between your legs as he drives you to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he growls against your sensitive flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He's not content until you're a writhing mess beneath him, lost in a sea of pleasure that only he can provide.

Your moans fill the room, broken and desperate, as he takes you higher and higher, pushing you closer to the brink with each skilled stroke of his tongue. But just as you close your eyes to savour the moment, his hand comes down hard on your pussy, giving you a sharp slap. "I told you to look at me when you cum," he growls, his voice a commanding presence that leaves you breathless. You let out a moan, not expecting to be so turned on by this. It sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you. 

With a small nod, you oblige, opening your eyes to meet his gaze, letting him see the raw, unbridled desire written across your face. You're completely at his mercy, your body aching with need as he continues to devour you with his mouth.

He sucks dry every last drop of your pleasure, his praises ringing in your ears like a symphony of desire. 

He presses his lips against your throbbing core with a mouthy and wet kiss. "Good girl," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm to your fractured senses. "Such a pretty cunt," he adds, his voice a husky growl as he admires your pussy. 

And as you come down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy, you're left panting and trembling in his arms, completely spent and utterly satisfied. 

As Sunghoon pulls back from devouring you, his eyes blaze with unquenchable desire, hungry for more of you. Your body trembles with anticipation, aching for his touch as you meet his intense gaze, silently begging for him to fulfill your craving.

“Please, Sunghoon,” you plead, your voice thick with need, your fingers grasping at the sheets beneath you. “I need you inside me.” His grin is wicked, a mirror of your own desire, as he savors your desperation, relishing the power he holds over you.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” he purrs, the husky timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod fervently, a smile tugging at your lips as your hands reach for his top, swiftly pulling it over his head. Your fingers trace over his bare chest and abs, the sight of his toned physique eliciting a gasp of admiration. His chest and abs glisten in the dim light, sculpted to perfection, each muscle defined with precision. 

Your breath hitches with each passing moment, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with every heartbeat. Fingers trembling, you reach for his belt, your urgency evident in the way you fumble with the buckle. With a swift motion, he pulls it down himself, his boxers following suit, revealing his hardened length. You gasp at the sight, your eyes fixated on his cock as you reach out instinctively. He groans in response, his voice strained with desire as he warns, "Don't, baby. I won't last."

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your parted thighs, his throbbing cock poised at your entrance, close yet agonisingly out of reach. You can see it in his eyes, and the way he's looking at you, he's going to go soft despite his earlier promises of roughness. 

As you express your disappointment with a soft whine, he silences you with a gentle shake of his head. "Trust me, baby, I'm big," he whispers in a husky tone, his words sending a thrill through you.

"I don't care. I still want you to be rough with me," you assert, your desire palpable in your voice.

He shakes his head once more. “You don't want me to be too rough for the first time," he explains softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Maybe next time," he adds with a teasing wink, prolonging the anticipation as he plays with your desires.

As his lips crash against yours in a breathy kiss, a symphony of moans escapes from the depths of your souls, mingling in the air like sweet melodies of desire. Each touch of his lips against yours ignites a fire within, sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. With every exhale, you both moan into each other’s mouth. 

He backs away from your lips too early for your liking. With a devious glint in his eyes, he teases, testing your patience and leaving you craving more. 

You grow increasingly impatient when he doesn’t move, he smirks, he’s teasing you, testing your patience. Your whimpers become more urgent with each passing moment. “Please,” you beg for any type of movement 

But he continues to toy with you, his smirk widening as he revels in your desperation. “I don’t know, should I let you have my cock?” he taunts, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. 

You deadpan. “Your cock is literally inside of my vagina right now—”

“Do you really think you deserve it?” he says, his voice low and dark, sending shivers down your spine.

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you match his tone. You find yourself enjoying the charged atmosphere, how comfortable it feels with him. You find yourself holding back a grin. "I bet you're not even that big," you retort. 

“Oh?” he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he closes the distance between you, his gaze burning with intensity.

As he thrusts into you with relentless force, you feel an overwhelming mix of pleasure and discomfort wash over you. His cock is so thick, stretching you to your limits with each deep penetration. You whimper, struggling to adjust to his size, but he shows no mercy, drilling into you with undefeated determination.

His movements are harsh and unforgiving, his hips driving forward with brutal force as he claims you as his own. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, leaving you trembling with need. You moan uncontrollably, unable to form coherent words as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“You’re so big,” you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your words breathy with a hint of disbelief in your voice as you feel him filling you completely. But his response is cold and mocking.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “Now stay there and fucking take it.”

As his hips collide with yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic symphony of lust and desire. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your moans echoing off the walls as you surrender to the raw intensity of his touch.

He fucks you with a primal urgency, his movements rough and demanding as he claims you as his own. His cock drives into you with relentless force, stretching you to your limits and filling you completely with each deep penetration. You can feel every inch of him inside you, his hardness pressing against your most sensitive spots and sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

His cock pounds into you relentlessly, driving deep into your slick heat with each forceful thrust. You can feel every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to your limits as he claims you as his own. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that only serves to fuel your desire for more. “More,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper.

"Beg for it, beg for my cock deeper inside you," he commands, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. As his words hang in the air, you feel his hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist. With a swift movement, he positions you exactly how he wants, allowing for deeper penetration and intensifying the sensations between you. This change in angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you both to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, he buries himself deeper inside you, his cock filling you completely as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

"Harder, please," you plead, your voice trembling with need as you yearn for him to give you everything he's got. Your body craves the intensity of his touch, the roughness of his thrusts driving you wild with desire. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, desperate for him to take you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

He obliges, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives himself deeper into you. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin, loud moans and your headboard creaking. 

With each merciless thrust, your body succumbs to the relentless assault, every movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy. The raw power of his domination leaves you breathless, your senses consumed by the overwhelming pleasure he bestows upon you. You teeter on the edge of climax, every nerve ending ablaze with desire, craving release like never before.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan desperately, your plea echoing through the room, but instead of granting you release, he chuckles darkly, a sinister sound that sends a shiver down your spine. 

With a cruel twist, he wrenches his cock back, the abrupt movement sending a jolt of pain coursing through you. His gaze is unforgiving, a menacing glint in his eyes as he stares down at you, relishing in your torment. Your whimpers of protest only fuel his cruel pleasure, a smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your frustration.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he taunts, his voice dripping with contempt as he watches you squirm beneath him. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His words are like daggers, each one laced with venom as he taunts and belittles you, his dominance asserting itself with every syllable. “Only good girls deserve to cum.” 

Sunghoon’s anger is palpable as he flips you onto your back, the force of his movement taking you by surprise. Your heart races with anticipation, knowing that his roughness is a sign of his frustration. You can feel the tension in the air as he shifts you onto all fours, his movements primal and commanding.

“Spread your legs wider,” he demands, his tone brooking no argument. “That’s it,” he murmurs. 

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your legs, his grip on your hips firm and unyielding. “Hold onto the headboard,” he orders, his voice commanding obedience. You obey without hesitation, your nails digging into the wood as he takes you from behind.

Each forceful thrust elicits a gasp from your lips, the intensity of his desire overwhelming your senses. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he taunts, his words punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. “Tell me how much you want it,” he demands, his voice rough with desire.

In the heat of the moment, his anger fuels his actions, his movements rough and unyielding. As he fills you completely, you’re overwhelmed by the sensation, your senses flooded with pleasure. Gasping for air, you’re left breathless, the intensity of his desire consuming you.

Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, driving you further toward the edge of ecstasy. Your ass meets his thighs with each forceful movement, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. He takes advantage of your vulnerability, delivering sharp slaps to your pussy, each one igniting a fire within you.

With a forceful grip, he fists your hair back, tilting your head upwards to expose your neck to him. He leaves bruises and hickies along your skin, marking you as his own. His grip tightens, asserting his control over you, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

With a firm grip on your hips, he dictates the rhythm of his thrusts, each one a testament to his dominance. Your arms are held in place, you're left feeling exposed, entirely at his mercy. “I could fuck you like this forever,” he muses in a dark whisper 

As he relentlessly pounds into you, his cock stretching you beyond your limits, tears well up in your eyes. The sheer force of his thrusts drives you to the brink of madness, each movement sending waves of both pleasure and pain rippling through your body.

“You really thought you could handle me?” he taunts, his voice dripping with disdain as he continues to ravage you without mercy. His words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath his intense gaze.

Despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, there’s a perverse sense of pleasure that accompanies the pain and humiliation. You find yourself surrendering to him completely, lost in the primal rhythm of his thrusts and the raw power he exudes.

Your cries mingle with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the room filled with the symphony of your shared desire. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. “Take it all”

Each thrust drives you closer to the edge of sanity, your body trembling with the exquisite torment of his rough ministrations. The pleasure-pain dichotomy consumes you entirely, leaving you lost in a haze of ecstasy and agony.

You feel completely overwhelmed by him, your senses drowning in the intoxicating cocktail of desire and desperation. The need to please him at any cost drives you to new heights of submission, your every thought and action dedicated to his satisfaction.

His reaction is one of twisted satisfaction, his grin a sinister reflection of the dominance he wields over you. He takes perverse pleasure in your tears, viewing them as a testament to his power and control. With each sob that escapes your lips, he revels in the knowledge that he holds your very soul in his hands, a willing captive to his every whim.

“I-I’m so close,” you gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, let me cum.”

His response is immediate and commanding. His hands wrap around your throat with a firm grip. As he tightens his hold, you feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, intensifying the sensations overwhelming your body. At the same time, his other hand delivers a sharp, stinging spank to your cheek, sending a jolt of mixed pleasure and pain radiating through you.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he growls, his voice low and authoritative. “Remember that.”

"Please," you beg, your voice strained with desperation. "I need you to cum inside me. Fill me up." 

His resolve breaks at your plea, his control slipping as he gives in. Sunghoon ravages you mercilessly, his own release momentarily forgotten as he focuses solely on driving you to the brink of pleasure. His hands roam over your trembling body, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that dance along your skin. He holds you close and with one final thrust, he sends you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion.

As the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Your body trembles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with sensation. With a primal cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your orgasm consuming you completely. Waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you gasping for air as you ride the euphoric high.

Shortly after, with a primal roar, he releases inside you, his hot seed flooding your depths as you both reach the peak of ecstasy together. Waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and sated in each other's embrace.

He removes his cock from you, a mixture of wetness and cum slipping out in its wake. With a firm grip, he manhandles you, turning you around to face him. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a complete contrast to the roughness with which he just fucked you. Using his thumb, he wipes away the mascara trailing down your face, his expression softening as he takes in your fucked-out appearance. 

Your eyelids droop with exhaustion, but before you can succumb to sleep, he speaks with a gentleness that catches you off guard. "Don't sleep just yet. I need to get you cleaned up." The difference in his tone leaves you feeling dizzy and confused, his soft eyes meeting yours.

Later on, you’re all cleaned up, thanks to him running a bath for you and cleaning your body with your favorite scent of soap. There were lingering kisses and massages, and he even sat in the bath with you, sharing in the intimacy of the moment. Now, you’re in your pajamas, feeling cozy and comfortable, then he asks if he can stay. It’s late so you nod in agreement. That was the only reason. He settles onto your bed, his eyes closing with a contented smile.

But suddenly, you get up, breaking the serene atmosphere. “I need to clean the apartment,” you declare, and he laughs at first, thinking it’s a joke. However, his expression turns serious when he realises you’re not joking.

‘Did the four positions and the five times I made you cum not make you sleepy?’ He questions from behind you. 

You turn to him, shaking your head. “It was not four —”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he lists them off. “Missionary, from the back and then against the wall in the shower. You also rode my cock in the shower.’ His words send a shiver down your spine and you gulp. Where did this sex drive come from? 

“I just counted, and I made you cum six times,” he adds with a satisfied grin.

You roll your eyes. “Do you count the amount of times you’ve made a girl cum for every girl you sleep with?” 

He winks, his voice bringing chills to your spine. “Only you.” 

As he leans down beside you, your heart skips a beat. “What do you need help with?” he asks, his gaze locking deeply with yours. Despite the tired lines etched on his face, he alludes such an effortless attractiveness. He was incredibly magnetising and radiant, basking in a sex afterglow.

Your voice is soft and gentle as you speak. “We dropped so many lego sets… I could do with some help putting them back together.”

He smiles warmly and nods, his tired eyes twinkling with affection. "Let's do it."

As you both delve into the intricate world of Lego, your fingers deftly reassembling the scattered pieces, you find yourself opening up to Sunghoon in a way you never have before.

“You know… no one ever wants to build them with me, this is quite surprising,” you admit, your eyes fixated on the task at hand.

He hums in response, his attention fully captured by your words. “It’s not common for people in their 20s to be into Lego,” he remarks, his tone tinged with curiosity.

As you delve into the details of your Lego collection, Sunghoon’s genuine interest shines through. He listens intently as you recount the origins of each set, marking the first time you’ve shared this hobby so thoroughly. “I got this one from a fair I went to when I was 12, my uncle got me this one, Nayoung got me this one,” you explain, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.

His curiosity peaks as he spots a rare Lego set on your shelf, one he surprisingly recognizes by name. “How the fuck did you get that one?” he asks, pointing directly at it.

You respond with a deadpan expression, “I camped out at 3am in the winter to get it.” The absurdity of the situation hits both of you at once, sparking uncontrollable laughter.

Sunghoon, catching his breath, manages to say, “Tough,” with a mix of admiration and amusement in his voice.

“Did anyone get you this one?” Sunghoon points at a very rare and expensive set, his eyes glowing with awe. It’s one that was already made, one of your prized possessions, you were glad it was still in tact. 

You giggle, a smile lighting up your face as you give him the go-ahead to touch it. You don’t let anyone touch your Lego collection. Especially that set. 

An immediate smile lights up your face, and you nod. “Sunwoo got me that one,” you say, relishing the memory. It was one of his random gifts, one that cheered you up when you needed it most.

“Kim Sunwoo? You’re friends with him?” Sunghoon’s curiosity peaks, his surprise at the mention of Sunwoo not shocking you.

You nod. “My best friend.”

“You seem really different from each other,” Sunghoon observes.

“We are,” you agree. It’s a common observation, one that you’ve heard countless times before. Sunwoo spends his time getting high and indulging in casual sex; he’s the ultimate fuck boy. But despite his wild ways, he’s also your best friend. He’s intense, but you need him in your life. “People say opposites attract, we balance each other out well. Plus, I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t spend your time getting laid because the things you were doing when we were fucking… it takes experience to —”

You interject with a soft whisper, “I’m not a virgin.” You anticipate a reaction from him, but he surprises you by simply smiling and nodding in acknowledgment.

“It was clear when I was fucking you,” he explains calmly, “I could tell it wasn’t your first time.”

Your laughter fills the room, accompanied by a blush coloring your cheeks. “It’s just that there’s a ridiculous rumor that goes around that I’m some Christian girl who’s waiting until marriage and that I’m untouched when it’s not true.”

Sunghoon’s curiosity persists. “Why did that rumor start?”

Shrugging slightly, you respond, “I don’t even know… I guess people just see me as a quiet and shy person and automatically equate that to me being innocent and clueless. I’m very private; I keep my sexual life on the low. I don’t gossip about it or talk about things like that openly, even to my closest friends. They’re my best friends, so they know I’ve had sex before, but they still join in on the joke that I’m a Christian virgin just to wind me up.”

As Sunghoon hums thoughtfully, you sense his presence beside you, his silence speaking volumes. Despite not responding verbally, you know he's listening intently, absorbing every word you say. His attentive demeanour reassures you, reminding you that he's there, fully engaged in the conversation. It's a rare quality that you appreciate, his ability to be present and attentive without the need for constant verbal affirmation. 

“Why did you start playing bass?” Sunghoon’s question catches you off guard, his gaze lingering on the eccentric blue bass in the corner of the room in a way that makes your head spin.

You can’t help but giggle at his curiosity. “I was kinda forced to, actually.”

“Really?” His surprise is evident in his voice.

You nod, recalling how Sunwoo had roped you into joining his band. “It’s Sunwoo’s band, and he needed a bass player. He decided it was going to be me, so he taught me how to play. He’s very serious about his band, you know. His major is music, so it makes sense. Sunwoo’s good at everything. He can sing, rap, dance, and play any instrument. I’m the bassist in the band, but he’s better than me at playing it.”

Sunghoon shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t say that. You’re such a natural at playing bass.”

You offer him a grateful smile in return, touched by his compliment.

“I didn’t see Sunwoo at the gig, though,” Sunghoon observes, his gaze lingering on your face.

“Or Winter,” you add, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Sunghoon’s eyebrow quirks up in confusion.

“She’s our main vocalist and plays piano. She wasn’t there either because Sunwoo was balls deep inside of her,” you explain, amusement evident in your voice. “She’s our fifth main vocalist, and we’re probably gonna need to replace her soon. Sunwoo keeps fucking the main vocalists in the band, and they always leave because it makes everything awkward and tense.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Sounds like him.”

You nod in agreement, a knowing look passing between you. “He can’t keep his fucking cock in his pants. Always has to go fuck the woman in the group.”

Sunghoon chuckles in response, the sound warm and genuine.

You and Sunghoon have been talking for what felt like hours.

The ease of conversation made it feel like you've known each other for much longer. You didn’t expect to have so much in common with him, you didn’t expect the conversation to flow as smoothly as it did, you also didn’t expect for him to actually stay, especially after you had finished having sex.

His confidence and appeal enhance the atmosphere. Sunghoon's casual demeanor sets the tone the moment he begins to speak, his confidence is almost dripping from him, as if it's part of the very air around him. He's got this cool, laid-back vibe that's utterly captivating, standing here in your apartment as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Sunghoon's gaze holds yours, an unspoken intensity lingering in the way he looks at you. There's an undeniable attractiveness in his focus, in the deliberate way he gives you his undivided attention. Each time he listens, it's with an intensity that makes the moment stretch, filling it with an undeniable tension. 

His eyes, expressive and deep, seem to capture and reflect every flicker of emotion, making the connection between you feel both electrifying and profoundly intimate. His smile, when it breaks, is like a slow dawn, gradually illuminating his features and warming the space between you.

You bond about little things but in retrospect they were big, they were such specific and unique things, things that were so special to you.

You give him a tour of your apartment, showing him around with a sense of pride. Each room holds a piece of you, and you’re eager to share it with him. As you lead him through the space, you point out your prized possessions, sharing the stories behind each one.

“This is where I keep my vinyl collection,” you explain, gesturing towards a shelf filled with records. He pauses, running his fingers over the sleek covers with a sense of appreciation.

“Your taste is… amazing.” 

He believes in those words even more when you show him your book collection, you're surprised to find that Sunghoon has read them all. You point out one of the most important books to you, ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ and as you're about to recite your favourite line, he says it at the same time as you. “One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.” you both say in unison, the words echoing in the room.

The eye contact that follows is strong and intense, making you feel weak in the knees. You want to look away, but you can't tear your gaze from his. He's captivating, and in that moment, you feel a magnetic connection that transcends words.

You sit surrounded by your closest friends in a secluded corner of the student lounge. You and Eunji are working on university assignments and projects, both studying musical arts. The steady hum of youthful chatter and the clatter of laptop keys fail to distract you. You’re here but you’re not really here. The noise around you fades into the background as thoughts of Sunghoon consume your mind every time you close your eyes. 

Your mind relentlessly replays the sensation of Sunghoon's lips against yours, the way his hands explored every inch of your body, and the intensity in his eyes as he gazed at you. The memory of his touch lingers, leaving you dazed and confused. And then there's his cock, thick and pulsating with desire, the mere thought of it sending a shiver down your spine. It's as if his presence has etched itself into every corner of your mind, dominating your thoughts and leaving little room for anything else.

You try to push the memories aside, to focus on the task at hand, but it's no use. His image, his touch, his presence, his lips—it all feels so real. To make matters worse, Eric and Nayoung keep probing and probing. 

“Y/N!!!!!” Nayoung interrupts your thoughts. “Are you ready to tell us what happened last night?” she asks with a mischievous wink, raising her eyebrows suggestively, and you immediately understand the implication. You discretely shush her, promising to tell her later, not wanting to draw attention, but nothing ever slips past Eric’s sharp eyes.

As you’re grappling with the weight of your previous conversation, Sunwoo walks in, offering what you hope might be a timely distraction.

The moment he enters, you shoot him an accusatory glare. “You left me and Eric stranded yesterday! We had to find two people willing to perform with us last minute,” you scold, your frustration evident in your tone.

Sunwoo shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I was balls deep inside of Ryujin,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You turn to him, tutting and shaking your head in disbelief. But deep down, you’re not truly surprised. “Really? Again?” you sigh, knowing all too well the consequences of Sunwoo’s actions.

Ryujin, the lead vocalist and keyboard player in your band, was now the latest victim of Sunwoo’s need of fucking the lead vocalists. It has become a recurring theme in your band’s history. Sunwoo's habit of sleeping with the lead vocalists inevitably leads to their departure from the band, as they realize he's only interested in a fling without any emotional attachment.

There had been four lead vocalists before Ryujin who had left for the same reason, and now she was the fifth. It was a cycle that seemed impossible to break, it was annoying but it was pretty funny. 

“Pay up,” Eric demands, holding out the money jar to Sunwoo. With a roll of his eyes, Sunwoo begrudgingly adds a £5 note to the jar, another contribution to Eric’s growing collection of Sunwoo’s indiscretions.

Sunwoo lets out a deep sigh, his head tilting back against the cool wall with a suggestive noise that’s entirely inappropriate for 8 AM on a Monday morning. He’s always horny, he was missing Ryujin, missing her pussy. 

The brief distraction provided by Sunwoo’s antics quickly fades as Eric, always persistent, picks up the previous line of questioning. He laughs loudly, turning to face you with an expression that feels a bit too much like an interrogation. You brace yourself, knowing exactly where he’s heading with this.

Eric lets out a loud laugh, turning to you like it was an an interrogation, letting you know he wouldn’t drop it you instantly know what he’s going to say. “Where did you run off to after the gig?” he questions, but before you can respond, he answers for you. “I did see a certain Park Sunghoon checking you out.”

Silence fills the room, and then Nayoung screams in excitement. “They fucked!!! They had sex!!! Look, it’s all over Y/N’s face, she’s practically basking in the afterglow of Park Sunghoon’s massive cock.”

The room erupts into laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment as everyone turns their attention to you, leaving you wishing for the floor to swallow you whole.

You groan and sit there silently, wearing a defeated expression as Eric and Nayoung exchange comments and jokes, teasing you mercilessly. Sunwoo, however, remains silent, his expression unreadable as always, leaving you feeling perplexed by his demeanour.

He turns to face you subtly, and all he says is, “Really?” before breaking into a smirk.

You shoot Sunwoo a deadpan look. “You’re not allowed to judge me. You keep fucking our lead vocalists out of the group!”

As Sunwoo is about to defend himself, Eric’s playful 

smirk and words cut him off. “Hey, missed a spot?” he quips, at first you narrow your eyes in confusion but then you gulp when you realise he’s talking about the concealer on your neck. A suggestive grin plays on his lips. “Need some help covering up all those hickeys Sunghoon left all over your neck? I’m sure Nayoung has some concealer in her bag.” 

You shoot him a warning look, shushing him with a nervous glance around the room. “Keep it down, Eric,” you hiss, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “People could be listening.”

Nayoung, always one to push boundaries, takes it a step further. “Hey, do you need to order a new bed frame?” she asks innocently, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure yours has broken after Sunghoon fucked you in it all night long.” 

Eric's teasing hits a nerve, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. "Seriously though, I heard that you were moaning like a bitch in heat," he says with a sly grin, his words laced with mischief.

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off his remarks. "You weren't even there," you retort, hoping to shut down the conversation before it escalates any further.

But Eric wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, did you want me to be there? To watch?" he asks, his tone playful yet suggestive. "I didn't have you down as a kinky bitch, Y/N," he adds with a smirk, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You huff in frustration. "Oh? You don't want me to watch but to join in? I'm down! And so is Sunghoon, I heard he lost his virginity to not one girl but two girls... at the same time," Eric continues, his grin widening at the shocked expression on your face.

Nayoung joins in with a chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. "That's not true, he lost it to Arin. But he's had multiple threesomes and orgies," she chimes in, somehow knowing everything about everyone. She even knew who you had lost your virginity to even though you had sworn to keep it a secret. 

“That’s not true, he lost it to Arin. But he’s been in plenty of threesomes and orgies too,” Nayoung drops casually, her knowledge of everyone’s secrets almost uncanny. She even knew about your first time, despite your best efforts to keep it private.

“Arin?” you respond, taken aback. “Isn’t she the one from our classes with that angelic voice?” 

“Yeah she studied music and she’s also a bitch,” Nayoung doesn’t hold back.

You huff. “Really? She looks quite sweet.” 

“She’s got talent, sure, but she’s like a snake. All sweet to your face then she strikes when you’re not looking,” she continues with a grimace.

“You’re just pissed because after you fucked Sunghoon, he ghosted you,” Sunwoo chimes in, unable to resist teasing her.

“Why did he ghost you?” you ask, intrigued by the drama unfolding.

“Because he went back to fucking Arin,” Nayoung says, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

You scratch your neck, ignoring this sinking feeling. “Did they ever actually date?”

Nayoung shrugs. “I don’t think they dated, just fucked. But she’s been the one constant in his bed. Seems like they’re casual fuck buddies, on and off whenever it suits them.”

Sunwoo’s expression catches you off guard, his eyebrows arching in genuine confusion. “Y/N? Are you jealous?” he probes, clearly trying to understand your reaction.

Quick to dispel any misconceptions, you respond firmly, making sure there’s no room for doubt. “No! We only had sex, nothing else. There’s nothing to be jealous over,” you assert, hoping to shut down any further speculation about your feelings towards the situation.

However you can’t supress the swirls of discomfort and confusion inside you, unsettling you more than you'd like to admit. Arin’s history with Sunghoon, something intense and vaguely defined, gnaws at your peace, leaving you to wonder about the legitimacy of your feelings. Was it valid for you to even be jealous? 

But as these thoughts churn, the lounge's doors swing open, and a group of engineering students enters, breaking your inward spiral. Sunghoon is among them, still dressed in his work attire—an apron dusted from a practical session, and a tool belt loosely hanging around his hips. The engineering gear marks a stark contrast against the casual styles of your graphic tee and jeans, emphasising the divide between your worlds.

Your eyes instinctively find him as he walks in. He's laughing with his friends, completely at ease, seemingly untouched by the intense sex you had just hours ago. He looks so calm, so put together. It's as if he's able to effortlessly recompose himself, while you're still reeling from the memories and his touch. It’s as if the night you shared was just another ordinary event for him. 

As Sunghoon adjusts his apron, a simple yet deliberate action, your gaze inevitably travels to his hands—those same hands that had so expertly explored the depths of you just hours earlier. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, vividly conjures memories of how those very fingers had traced your curves and navigated your folds in a way that left you breathless. The memory of his touch, precise and bold, sends a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks, your body involuntarily responding to the mere thought of his proximity.

He casually stretches his fingers, the joints clicking softly in the quiet of the lounge. The sound, distinct and resonant, wasn't loud enough to be heard by others, but your focus is entirely on him. To you, the soft click echoes significantly, a subtle reminder of the way those fingers had moved with such deliberate intent, exploring and memorising every contour of your body with a precision that left an indelible mark on your senses.

Your gaze can't help but follow the motion of his hands up to his forearms. His sleeves are pushed up slightly, revealing forearms marked by prominent veins that stand out against his skin, tracing paths of strength and vitality. These are the arms that had held you with a confident, yet gentle touch, their power barely restrained as they explored you. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, each movement of his hands, the visible veins pulsing slightly with each flex, brings back a rush of sensations, the memory of his touch—both precise and bold—sending a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks.

Caught in this reverie, you almost miss the moment he looks up. His eyes meet yours, and for a suspended heartbeat, the world around you blurs into insignificance. His gaze holds a depth that reflects a shared history, mirroring the intensity of your intimate encounter. It's a knowing look, laden with an unspoken promise, silently communicating that he recalls every detail just as vividly as you do. 

Eric’s voice breaks through, calling out, “Hey, Sunghoon!” He motions for him to come over. 

As Sunghoon approaches, the simple tee visible beneath his partly open engineering apron catches your eye again. The initials ‘L.J.’ are neatly embroidered on the pocket, adding a personal touch to his otherwise utilitarian outfit. With each step he takes, it seems as though the room rearranges itself to accommodate the energy he brings. Despite there being an empty seat next to Nayoung, Sunghoon bypasses it, choosing instead the space directly beside you. It's a deliberate choice, requiring him to traverse around the table from where he started, signalling his intent to be as close to you as possible.

As he settles down, his body exudes a warmth you can feel even before he fully sits. The proximity is almost too much to handle, his scent—a rich blend of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a hint of citrus, underlined by a masculine note of metal and solder from his engineering lab—fills your senses, making your breath hitch. The unique aroma is both comforting and intoxicating, distinctly Sunghoon, and unmistakably alluring. The scent takes you back to mere hours before when you both had fucked. 

His knee brushes against yours as he adjusts in his seat, the simple touch sending a jolt through your body. You catch your breath, your attempt to focus on anything else utterly futile. Sunghoon is here, right next to you, and every fibre of your being is acutely aware of his nearness.

Beside you, Eunji leans closer, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You okay?" she whispers, noticing the sudden pallor that has overtaken your features. You manage a nod and offer her a shaky smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside.

As Eric yaps on and on, you find his voice a magnetic force. Just focus on Eric, you repeat internally, seeking any lifeline to distract you. But Sunghoon’s presence is a force impossible to ignore. He leans closer, his body shifting just enough so his knee presses gently against yours under the table. 

The subtle contact sends a shiver up your spine as he leans in, his voice a low whisper meant only for your ears, "I didn’t know you were interested in Eric." His words, edged with a teasing undertone, jolt you. The closeness of his mouth to your ear, the warmth of his breath, it all muddles your thoughts

"I… um, he’s fascinating," you reply, your voice a hushed stutter, drowned out almost entirely by the pounding of your heart.

Sunghoon pulls back slightly, his eyes holding yours in a steady, penetrating gaze that seems to delve deeper than the casual jest warrants. He nods, a slow, thoughtful movement, but the intensity doesn't wane. His eyes linger, searching, as if trying to read the unspoken feelings you're struggling so hard to mask.

“Are your legs okay?” Sunghoon asks, his tone serious but with an unmistakable undertone of teasing—a playful provocation he seems unable to resist.

You swallow hard, the sudden dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. With a slight tremor in your voice, you whisper back, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” His smile is soft yet knowing, as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper. Then, almost as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand finds its way to your thigh. His fingers gently press into your skin, starting a slow, deliberate massage that sends waves of both comfort and electric tension through your body.

His eyes lock with yours, holding the gaze intensely. The world around you seems to blur into the background, all sounds fading away except for the intimate space he’s created. As his hand moves subtly, the connection deepens, communicated through that steady, penetrating eye contact that says more than words ever could.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You offer a shy and closed-off response, "Nothing much." But the truth is, your mind is racing with thoughts of him-his touch, his scent, the way he made you feel.

"What about you?" you ask, trying to gauge his thoughts.

With a devilish grin, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I can't stop thinking about the way your pussy clenched around my cock when you came. I also can’t get over how good your ass looked bouncing on my cock.” He whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

As Sunghoon's words swirl around you, suffocating you with their intensity, you gasp for air, feeling the tight grip of panic clenching your chest. Your fingers tighten around the coffee cup, the ceramic surface offering a fleeting sense of stability amidst the whirlwind of sensations. Each breath feels strained, as if the air itself has thickened, making it difficult to draw in the oxygen your body craves. Despite the burning embarrassment prickling at your skin, you cling to the mundane act of sipping your drink, a feeble attempt to anchor yourself. 

Sunwoo speaks up from beside you, thankfully shifting the atmosphere with a different topic. "Guys... we need to host auditions for a new lead singer," he announces, clicking off his phone before flicking his eyes between you and Eric, signalling the urgency of the situation.

Nayoung can't help but burst into laughter at Sunwoo's statement. "He's fucked Ryujin so hard she found her way out of the band," she jokes, her comment cutting through the seriousness with her typical irreverence. Her laughter echoes around the group, lightening the mood and drawing a collective chuckle that momentarily dispels the heaviness in your heart. 

You’re all in the campus’ performance hall, Spotlights illuminate the stage, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and plush red curtains. You, Sunwoo, and Eric are perched in the judges’ area, positioned strategically to catch every nuance of the performances.

Suddenly, Nayoung rushes into the room with a tray of four steaming coffees, her hurried steps echoing against the polished floor. “I’m sorry I’m late! I’m here now, let’s start!” She shouts as a strand of hair escapes from her bun, framing her delicate features in a soft halo of morning light. Her beauty is striking, even in the early hours of the day. There's an effortless elegance to her appearance, from the way her eyes sparkle with warmth to the curve of her lips as she smiles apologetically. 

Nayoung wasn’t a member of the band, and she never had been nor probably ever would be, but she relished the opportunity to judge people, which explained why she always ended up as a judge alongside you, Sunwoo, and Eric.

“Guys, the auditions are starting,” Eric says.

The first person walks in, accompanied by two others. “I thought we were auditioning for a female lead vocalist?” you mumble, confused. But Eric just claps his hands together, excited for what’s to come.

“We’re the Foreign Swaggers,” one of the guys introduces the group name.

“Guys, you know we’re looking for one female lead vocalist, and you guys—” You’re interrupted by Mark Lee, known for being one of the best students in the music department. You know him, you’ve seen him at some parties, he’s friends with Donghyuc who was friends with Sunwoo. Mark was notorious for his talent and popularity among the girls.

“Alright, guys, what’s up,” Mark starts, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun adds, trying to sound confident.

“What’s up,” Johnny chimes in, his tone more relaxed.

“We’re the, uh— we’re the, uh— Foreign Swaggers,” Mark stutters, trying to maintain composure.

“So, yeah, uh— Johnny’s gonna rap,” Johnny declares.

“I lived in America for four years! That’s why I’m here, man!” Jaehyun boasts.

The audition starts with a beatbox, followed by some mediocre rapping at best. They’re awkward, but there’s a certain charisma about them.

However, Sunwoo cuts them off as soon as their performance ends, not even bothering to judge them. “That’s it, you can go now.” he says hastily, signalling for them to leave.

You were about eight people in, and no one had impressed you yet. No one seemed to fit the image of your band, and you were starting to lose hope. Then, Hwang Yeji walked in, and your eyes lit up, though not as much as Eric and Sunwoo’s. You side-eye them and roll your own eyes, especially as you catch a glimpse of something very familiar in Sunwoo’s eyes—the fire and hunger.

Yeji introduces herself sweetly, with the most beautiful smile and laugh. You hope she can sing well, as visually she matches the image of your band very well. You let out a sigh of relief when she does sing, and she’s really good. Her voice is perfect, and you can already see her in the band.

“I’ve found the voice of an angel. I’ve fallen in love,” Sunwoo breathes heavily, his typical behaviour not surprising you in the least.

“You should view the auditions objectively. You shouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of your judging,” you say, smirking.

“Shut up,” he replies hastily, unable to deny the truth in your words.

You’re taken aback by the look of genuine admiration in Sunwoo’s eyes. Could it be that he’s actually serious about his feelings for once? You’ve known Sunwoo long enough to recognize when he’s being sincere, and this time, it feels real.

After Yeji finishes her audition, a serene silence envelops the room, filled with admiration and appreciation for her talent. Sunwoo seems ready to offer her the role of lead vocalist on the spot, but you intervene before he can speak.

“Wait,” you interject, ignoring Sunwoo’s eagerness and turning to Yeji with a warm smile. “There’s one more person who wants to audition. Let’s hear her out before making a decision.”

You can feel Sunwoo’s frustration, but you know it’s important to give everyone a fair chance, even if Yeji seems like the perfect fit. 

Your heart sinks when you see who walks in

—it's Arin. An unsettling feeling washes over you, stirring up uncertainty that you try to push away, but it lingers like a stubborn shadow. She's so radiant and beautiful, exuding an energy and light that's hard to ignore. You understand why she's so popular; she's captivating in every way.

Of course, you know who she is—someone in the

year above, who seems to have a magnetic pull on everyone around her. All the guys are crazy for her, drawn to her like she's the centre of gravity in the room. And it's not just the guys; even Sunwoo and Eric seem infatuated by her presence, their eyes lingering on her like she's the only thing in the room.

She's sweet, with an infectious laugh and a presence that commands attention. She's the girl every guy wants to fuck and every girl wants to be. 

And apparently, she has a beautiful singing voice too?

She's good. Really good. Her voice is like an angel's, filling the room with a captivating melody that earns her instant appreciation from everyone present. 

You scoff and shoot a sideways glance at Sunwoo, muttering, "She's so bad."

He just smirks and shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with you. "She's definitely not," Eric chimes in, his voice laced with a dreamy quality that seems to be a common affliction among the guys in the room. Arin has this effect on every single one of them.

Nayoung smirks knowingly and teases, "I thought you didn't care about Sunghoon fucking her?"

You huff in response, denying any emotional investment in the matter. But no matter how much you try to defend yourself, it's clear that they all think your judgement is clouded by the rumour about Sunghoon and Arin.

Sunwoo remarks, "You should view the auditions objectively... You shouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of your judgement," he smirks, a reference to your previous words. 

As the crisp autumn evening settled over the campus, the university art gallery was abuzz with activity, its warmly lit interior casting a welcoming glow through the expansive glass doors. Tonight, it hosted the annual student art exhibition, a highlight for the arts department and an event that drew a crowd of eager students, local art enthusiasts, and faculty alike.

You, dressed in a favourite band tee that had seen better days and comfortable, well-worn jeans, felt a surge of excitement as you stepped into the gallery with Nayoung at your side. Your casual outfit, coupled with a pair of sturdy sneakers, was perfect for an evening spent on your feet, moving from one display to another.

As you adjusted the strap of your camera bag and pulled out your camera, the bustling art gallery buzzed around you. “Smileee,” you called out to Nayoung, who obliged with a fake grin and a thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, she did not want to be here. She looked hot though, styled in her black mini dress and brown leather jacket 

As you entered the gallery, the air was filled with the murmurs of impressed spectators and the soft, jazzy undertones of background music that added a sophisticated touch to the evening. The exhibition space was vibrant and packed, walls adorned with an array of artworks that ranged from abstract paintings to complex sculptures and daring installations.

Your eyes widened with genuine appreciation as you took in the scene. The exhibition was a canvas of creativity, each piece telling its own vivid story. Driven by your innate love for art, you began to ramble enthusiastically about the techniques and hidden meanings behind various artworks, pointing out the bold strokes and intricate details that might escape the untrained eye.

Nayoung, trailing slightly behind, matched your pace but not your enthusiasm. Her responses were polite, nodding along and offering the occasional “that’s really cool” or “wow,” though it was clear that her interest lay more in the social than the artistic aspects of the event. Despite this, she was there for you, you had dragged her here. 

As you delved deeper into the nuances of a particularly captivating installation—a mixed media piece that utilised recycled materials to comment on consumer culture—Nayoung’s attention occasionally drifted. She was more absorbed in scanning the crowd, perhaps looking for familiar faces or simply taking in the overall ambiance.

You couldn’t help but launch into detailed explanations as you moved from one artwork to another, your enthusiasm bubbling over. “See the way the light is captured here?” you pointed out, gesturing toward a series of dramatic black-and-white photographs that explored the interplay of shadow and light. “It’s all about the angle and timing, which is something we discuss a lot in my music composition classes, except we’re capturing sound, not light.”

Nayoung trailed beside you, her interest clearly elsewhere. With a drink already in hand, thanks to the small flask she'd pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket, she took occasional sips, her other hand frequently fishing her phone out to check messages or scroll through her feed.

"Do you ever get tired of talking about brush strokes?" Nayoung teased, an exasperated but playful tone in her voice as she watched you analyze yet another painting. Her question hung in the air, punctuated by her taking another discreet sip from her flask.

Throughout the evening, Nayoung seemed more intent on steering the conversation away from art and towards more personal topics. "So, let's talk about Sunghoon," she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You sigh inwardly, already anticipating where this conversation is headed. "No," you reply bluntly, hoping to steer the discussion away from your private life.

But Nayoung is undeterred. "Yes!" she insists, her tone teasing.

"So, in what position did he fuck you? How big is his cock?" she asks with a playful smirk, taking a sip of her drink.

You can't help but laugh at her audacity. "Nayoung, you've literally had sex with him. You know how big his cock is," you retort, rolling your eyes.

She tuts mockingly. "Who said I was looking?"

You shoot her a skeptical look. "If I tell you, will you finally leave me alone?" you challenge.

Nayoung nods eagerly, but you can tell she's not entirely sincere in her promise.

"We did it in missionary," you lie smoothly, not wanting to divulge too much. "And his cock? It's about two inches bigger than Eric's," you add truthfully.

Nayoung nearly chokes on her drink, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's that big?" she exclaims, clearly impressed.

You lean in closer, whispering, "You know how big it is! You fucked him too!"

Despite her promise to drop the subject, Nayoung continues to pester you, her questions becoming more probing with each passing moment.

"How was it? Did you feel anything when having sex with him? Anything deeper?" she inquires, her gaze fixated on you with an intensity that makes you uncomfortable.

You shake your head firmly, maintaining your composure. "Absolutely nothing," you lie smoothly, not yet ready to divulge the details of your encounter with Sunghoon-especially not the parts that still make your heart race just thinking about them.

While you were mid-sentence, breaking down the complexity of an abstract painting that caught your artistic eye, a movement at the entrance abruptly halted your train of thought. Sunghoon strolled in, he was impossible to miss, He had shifted the room's focus. He moved with an unassuming confidence that drew looks from every corner, a quiet testament to his presence. You watched, just for a moment, as all eyes flickered toward him. 

He wore a plain white tee that seemed to accentuate his toned figure, paired with jeans that fit just right. His hair, effortlessly swept back, gave him a look that was both polished and carefree. Jake, his best friend, was by his side, the light catching his blonde hair, a relaxed figure in his hoodie. But it was Sunghoon who had stolen the moment, his mere presence causing your heart to skip a beat and your words to stumble into silence.

Reacting instinctively, you reached out and clasped Nayoung’s arm, diverting her mid-chuckle into a quick detour. “Let’s check out the sculptures,” you said hastily, feeling the weight of Sunghoon’s unintended intrusion tighten around your chest as you steered both yourself and Nayoung toward a distant corner of the gallery.

Concealed behind the angular shadows of a towering metal sculpture, you and Nayoung stood secluded from the gallery’s hum. Its cool, hard surface offered a strange comfort, a silent ally amidst the turmoil within you. Nayoung’s face, usually so composed, now mirrored concern. “Why are you hiding from him? Haven’t you talked to Sunghoon since that night?” Her voice, though soft, seemed to fill the entire space around you.

Leaning against the sculpture’s chill offered a small reprieve, its coldness a stark counter to the warmth flushing your skin. Words felt like distant things, hard to grasp, harder to voice. You responded not with words but with a faint shake of your head, the motion carrying the weight of unspoken confessions.

“Y/N, this is messy,” Nayoung said, her voice layered with a mix of reprimand and concern.

“He messages me,” you found your voice, albeit shaky, “tries to talk to me, to come up to me on campus.” The words felt heavy, laden with a confusion that seemed to cloud your thoughts.

Nayoung’s smile flickered with a glimmer of hope. “That’s good, right? It means he’s interested in you,” she reasoned, her smile fading into a frown as she caught the turmoil twisting your features.

You sucked in a breath, feeling trapped in the sculpture’s cast shadow, a dim refuge from the gallery’s soft lights. “I don’t know how to face him,” you admitted, your whisper barely rising above the hush of distant conversations. “That night was overwhelming, and now… now I’m just lost.”

“Why are you so scared if that night meant nothing to you?” Nayoung probed gently, her fingers interlacing with yours in a solid, warm grip.

You covered your face with your free hand, rubbing at your eyes as if you could wipe away the uncertainty. “I don’t know what it meant. I’m confused. It’s all just so intense, so much for my heart… I’ve never felt this way, and it’s terrifying.” The words tumbled out, a chaotic mix of fear and longing. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”

“I’m scared, Nayoung. I’m scared of what I’m feeling, of what all this might mean.” Your words hung suspended, resonating with the same enduring presence as the art around you. 

Nayoung didn’t release your hand; instead, she drew you closer, a pillar of support in the echoing vastness of the gallery. “It’s okay to be scared,” she assured you. “But hiding here won’t answer any of your questions. You can’t let fear hold you back.” Her encouragement was soft but firm, a gentle push toward the clarity you so desperately needed.

You nod. As you step backward, ready to leave the comfort of the sculpture’s shadow, your movement is abruptly halted by a solid, unexpected barrier. A quick gasp escapes your lips as you spin around, words of apology already forming, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Your voice trails off when you see it’s Sunghoon you’ve bumped into. His presence, so close and unexpected, sends a jolt through you that’s part shock, part something more electric. For a split second, you’re frozen.

He stands mere inches away, his expression initially mirroring the tired detachment you’ve seen in Nayoung’s eyes tonight, suggesting he’d rather be anywhere but here. But the moment his gaze meets yours, something shifts. There’s a flicker of something more intense, more profound.

Your eyes lock with his for a fleeting second, and in that brief exchange, his look deepens, becoming electric and unreadable. The air around you thickens as if charged by this sudden connection, leaving your heart pounding not just with nervousness but with a bewildering rush of emotions that you can’t quite decipher. His presence envelops you, intense and palpable, drawing you into a moment you both seem reluctant to break, yet overwhelmed to sustain.

Sunghoon, dressed casually but looking every bit the effortless figure who haunts your quieter moments, just smiles slightly. His voice, when he speaks, is soft and carries an undertone of warmth that only adds to your turmoil. “It’s a beautiful sculpture, isn’t it?” he comments, his eyes lingering on yours, trying to capture your gaze.

You notice the slight upturn of his lips—a knowing, almost teasing smirk that suggests he might understand more than he lets on. But you can’t hold his gaze, your eyes darting away after a fleeting, charged moment of eye contact that sends an array of sensations coursing through you. It’s too much, too intense—every nerve ending seems to scream, your skin tingling from the nearness of him.

With a rushed, barely audible excuse, you stutter, “Sorry, gotta get to the lecture!!!” Your hand shoots out, finding Nayoung’s, and without waiting for a response, you pull her away from Sunghoon and the sculpture, eager to escape into the crowd. Nayoung follows without protest, casting an amused glance back at Sunghoon, who stands there watching you leave, his expression unreadable.

As you navigate through the throng of people, your pulse racing, you don’t dare look back. The brief interaction leaves you with a flood of emotions you’re not ready to dissect—not here, not now. Nayoung remains silent beside you, her presence a comforting constant as you put distance between yourself and Sunghoon. Your escape feels both like a victory and a defeat, the complex emotions swirling inside you mirroring the intricate artworks you leave behind.

Nayoung’s laughter echoed in the otherwise quieting atmosphere of the lecture hall as you both settled into the back left corner. “Would you stop?” you whispered harshly, crossing your arms and sinking lower into your seat, though a secret smile tugged at your lips for securing such a strategically secluded spot.

“I’m just happy we got the best seats in the house,” you added with a pout, pretending to sulk yet relieved by the thought that Sunghoon wouldn’t easily spot you here.

The hall gradually filled, the buzz of conversation growing as students gathered. Your heart skipped a beat when Sunghoon walked in, accompanied by Jake. They took seats a few rows ahead, seemingly unaware of your presence. You let out a silent breath, hoping to remain unnoticed.

Professor Doyoung, widely recognized as the best arts professor at the university, began the lecture with his usual charismatic flair. Today’s session was special—a celebration of student achievements, spotlighting various art pieces and sculptures. The room dimmed slightly as the projector lit up with images of student artwork.

Your pulse quickened when a photo of your own creation appeared on the screen. The room filled with murmurs of admiration, but your own heart pounded for an entirely different reason. “And here we have an outstanding piece by one of our brightest students,” Professor Doyoung announced, his voice filling the lecture hall with enthusiastic approval. “This innovative work was created by none other than Y/N, whose artistic vision and execution have consistently impressed us.”

As he showered you with praise, detailing the depth and creativity behind your work, a sense of pride mixed with intense embarrassment washed over you. It was meant to be an anonymous exhibition, yet here was Professor Doyoung, breaking protocol because he believed certain students deserved recognition for their efforts.

While you appreciated the acknowledgment, your cheeks burned hotter when Professor Doyoung, spotting you trying to sink further into your seat, pointed you out to the entire auditorium. “Let’s give a round of applause to Y/N, sitting right at the back there, for such a brilliant contribution!”

The audience’s applause thundered in your ears, but it was the sound of bodies shifting and heads turning that heightened your anxiety. Sunghoon turned around, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on you. When your gazes locked, a silent jolt of electricity shot through you. His expression transformed from casual interest to a more intense, unreadable look, tinged with a hint of a smile that seemed both knowing and curious.

The world around you seemed to blur into the background as the two of you maintained eye contact. The warmth of his smile, despite the distance, sent waves of nerves dancing up your spine, mixing with a thrill that you couldn’t quite suppress. You felt exposed yet oddly seen, the kind of visibility that made your stomach twist yet somehow left you wanting more.

You averted your gaze first, looking down at your lap as your face heated up. Beside you, Nayoung nudged you gently, a silent gesture of support—or perhaps encouragement to acknowledge the connection you obviously had with Sunghoon, one that seemed to extend beyond mere academic coincidences.

The lecture continued, but your mind was elsewhere, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions triggered by that brief yet impactful exchange of looks with Sunghoon. Your heart still raced, not just from the public praise but because of him. 

After the lecture, you spot Jake lingering near the front of the room. Despite sharing a few classes, your interactions had always been casual—pleasant exchanges about coursework and occasional class discussions. Jake was known for his calm demeanor, a stark contrast to Sunghoon’s more dynamic presence. Now, with your recent involvement with Sunghoon weighing on your mind, you find yourself curious about their friendship. They seemed like opposites yet clearly got along so well, everyone knew they were best friends, brothers even. Perhaps it was true what they said about opposites attracting.

As you’re methodically packing up your things, Jake approaches with a gentle ease that diminishes the room’s formality. His presence feels like a quiet reassurance in the noisy aftermath of the lecture.

“He went ahead, you don’t need to worry,” Jake says softly, noticing the tightness in your expression. It catches you off-guard how observant he is, how he seems to catch even the subtlest shifts in your mood.

You gulp, a bit flustered by his insight. “I—”

“I think he’s really intrigued by you, you know,” Jake continues, his voice warm and encouraging. “I don’t know why, but he seems genuinely interested in getting to know you better. You always seem to run the other way, though.” His smile is gentle, nudging you towards reconsideration without pushing too hard. “Maybe you should give him a chance; Sunghoon’s actually a decent guy.”

“I’m not intentionally trying to avoid him,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He just… makes me nervous.”

Jake’s chuckle is soft, a sound that spreads calm. He reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder for a fleeting moment, grounding you. “He makes everyone nervous at first. You get used to it,” he reassures, his touch light but affirming. “Who knows, you might even start to like it. I know I like it.” You can’t help but giggle when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I know it might seem like he’s intense, and yeah, he’s serious when it comes to things and people he cares about. But he’s also really chill once you get to know him better. He’s the kind of person you’d want in your corner,” he explains, his tone earnest.

“He doesn’t just give his attention and effort to anyone,” Jake continues, his eyes locking with yours to emphasise his point. “So don’t take it for granted or push him away. You might lose his interest forever, and trust me, you’d miss it. He’s someone you really want in your life. He's a really good guy..”

His comforting grin lingers as he steps back, giving you space to process his words. With a friendly nod, Jake walks away, leaving a trail of thoughtfulness behind him. His advice resonates with you, stirring a mix of anticipation and resolve. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to confront your nerves and see where things with Sunghoon could lead.

The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you traverse the campus pathway, lost in the world curated by your playlist. With every sip of your coffee, you feel the warmth spread through you, contrasting with the coolness of the day. Your steps are unhurried, a rare moment of solitude embraced amidst the hustle of your life.

Suddenly, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you from your reverie. You pull out one earbud, turning to see Sunghoon standing behind you. Despite the flutter in your stomach, you remember Jake’s words: Don’t push him away. Taking a deep breath, you muster a smile, not just any smile, but one that reaches your eyes, showing Sunghoon you’re here in this moment with him.

“Hey,” Sunghoon greets, his voice smooth, drawing a line of warmth up your spine despite the autumn chill.

You manage a nod, trying to appear composed. “Hi, Sunghoon,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. His gaze is intense, and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes directly, focusing instead slightly over his shoulder.

As you walk together, Sunghoon’s voice breaks through the crisp air. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last month now…” 

Every attempt he made to bridge the gap between you was met with your nervous laughter or hasty excuses. His presence—so wanted yet so overwhelming—left you fumbling, your words tripping over your rapid heartbeat. But today you would handle things differently. 

Or so you wished.

His voice seemed to blend into the background, making it difficult to focus. “Are you free this weekend?” he asked, a simple question that felt loaded with possibilities. Is he asking you out? Or is this just casual?

The campus around you felt unusually constricted as pairs of eyes turned to follow your interaction, their stares prickling uncomfortably on your skin. The judgmental looks from passing students, especially from girls who eyed you with undisguised envy or disdain, made it challenging to concentrate on Sunghoon’s words. 

Sunghoon closes the distance between you with a measured step, his presence enveloping you in a subtle but undeniable warmth. His fingers tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the contact tender yet anchoring, pulling you back to the moment. His eyes lock onto yours, his voice a soothing whisper, “Just ignore them. Just look at me.”

Your breath catches, the simple command resonating deeply as you murmur, “But they’re all looking at me. At us,” your voice trembles in the air.

He smiles softly, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he holds your face with a careful, affectionate grip. “And I want you to look at me,” he insists, his gaze steady and piercing, radiating a calm confidence that makes your heart race yet somehow reassures you.

As Sunghoon's hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs softly caressing your skin, you find yourself nodding as he tells you to focus on him.. The steady throb of your heart begins to calm, settling into a rhythm that feels less frantic, more in tune with the moment. Your eyes lock with his, and as you let yourself truly look at him, all fears begin to melt away. You lean slightly into the warmth of his touch, the tension in your body easing as you allow yourself to be anchored by his presence. 

“Are you coming to Sunwoo’s party tonight?” he asks casually, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

You give a small nod. “Maybe.”

“I hope you’re there,” he says, his tone sincere. “It gives me a reason to go.” He’s always so honest. 

“Sunwoo will be dealing, are you sure that’s not reason enough?” 

He smirks. “Close second.” 

“It’s too much,” Yeji giggles shyly, running her hands over the dress she was going to wear tonight, in awe of the beautiful decorations and sparkles.

Her eyes moved to the brand new microphone Sunwoo had gifted her to congratulate her for winning the auditions and becoming the newest member of the band. “It's definitely too much, I didn't anticipate or expect any of this.”

You shake your head. “It’s not too much, you deserve it all.”

“Plus the dress is stunning, you’ll look beautiful,” you add. The dress was quite out there, adorned with sparkles and glitters. Yeji was definitely going to stand out and be the star of the show. “How did you get a dress as beautiful as that?” you ask.

“I don’t know… it just turned up to my door with a note telling me to wear it!” she responds.

“Sunwoo,” you respond immediately.

You both laugh. You know why he’s throwing this party randomly, with no warning or planning. It’s a surprise party for her, celebrating her joining the band. Sunwoo is welcoming her.

“I bet he buys dresses for all his girls,” she rolls her eyes as she slips into the dress.

“No, he doesn’t,” you say matter-of-factly, shaking your head in astonishment. Yeji was different for him. You could already feel that.

Applying the prettiest shade of pink to her cheeks, you couldn’t help but admire how blush looked so beautiful on Yeji. It complemented her complexion perfectly, adding a touch of radiance to her already glowing skin. As she examined herself in the mirror, a smile lit up her face, and you knew she was going to steal the show tonight.

“Aren’t you going?” she questioned, her eyes glancing over your pyjamas and messy bun.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion and a slight headache creeping in. “I don’t feel well,” you admitted, hoping she’d understand.

“No, you have to come. I’ll be nervous all there by myself,” she pleaded, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Despite your reluctance, you couldn’t resist her puppy-dog eyes and the genuine warmth in her voice. Yeji had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, and you didn’t want to disappoint her.

“You won’t be by yourself,” you assured her with a smile, knowing Sunwoo and Eric would be there to keep her company.

Yeji was a new student, still adjusting to the rhythm of college life, but she had quickly become a familiar presence. Her easygoing nature and infectious enthusiasm had won over the hearts of many, including yours.

But she’s so sweet, and you couldn’t bear to see her disappointed.

“I’ll come,” you relented, knowing that her smile was worth it.

Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she practically bounced off the bed. “We need to get you ready,” she declared, already bustling around the room, gathering clothes and makeup.

As Yeji helps you pick out what to wear, her eyes light up when she spots a particular outfit. “This,” she exclaims, her gaze hungry as she holds up a daringly bold ensemble.

You feel your cheeks flush crimson at the sight of the revealing outfit. “That’s way too much,” you protest, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement at her suggestion.

“But you’ll look so sexy though!” she insists, her excitement infectious as she imagines you rocking the outfit.

Despite your reservations, you can’t deny the thrill of the idea. “I don’t want to draw too much attention…” you murmur, but Yeji is already convincing you otherwise.

In the end, you settle on the cherry blossom pink mini dress she picked out, the soft hue flattering your complexion perfectly. As you change into the outfit, you can’t help but feel a surge of confidence wash over you. You opted for minimal makeup, you wanted to enhance your natural features, and soon you’re both admiring the stunning result in the mirror.

“Your wardrobe is so daring,” Yeji remarks, her eyes scanning through your clothes with awe.

As you step into Sunwoo’s house, a wave of nervousness washes over you despite how familiar you are to this house. It’s practically your second home, yet tonight feels different somehow.

A rush of color and a buzz of activity immediately greet you. You walk through the entryway bathed in vibrant lighting that casts dynamic shadows across the textured, dark-stained wooden walls. The decorations hanging there are bold and modern, each piece making a statement with its bright colours and daring strokes.

Beneath your feet, dark hardwood floors stretch out, absorbing the light and noise, giving the house a grounded, almost intimate feel. In the living area, a group of people lounge on oversized furniture, upholstered in deep, rich tones, chatting over glasses of chilled drinks pulled from stacked ice coolers that blend seamlessly into the decor.

You walk to the backyard where the atmosphere shifts from subdued luxury to a lively party scene. The garden is lit by strategically placed neon lights that highlight the lush greenery with an almost surreal glow. Music pulses in the background, the bassline vibrating softly underfoot.

It was a chaotic blur of vibrant colours, pulsating music, and energetic bodies moving to the rhythm. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke, mingling with the scent of drugs and anticipation.

The sight of so many people, each lost in their own world of intoxication and euphoria, is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Everywhere you look, there are couples making out, friends sharing laughter and secrets, and strangers forging connections in the dimly lit corners of the room.

Amidst the chaos, you catch sight of Sunwoo, his expression dazed and his movements sluggish as he navigates through the crowd. He spots you and stumbles over, enveloping you in a drunken hug. “You actually came!” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on your forehead before his attention is quickly diverted to Yeji, already taking her hand and leading her somewhere. 

As you weave through the lively crowd, the familiar laughter of Nayoung and Eunji draws you in like a beacon. You break into a wide smile, the tension melting away as soon as you see them, both teetering slightly, drinks in hand, their laughter filling the air.

“Heyyyy!” you shout over the music as you approach, arms open wide. They spot you and immediately stumble forward, nearly spilling their drinks in their excitement.

Eunji, with a tipsy grin, throws her arms around you, pulling you into a wobbly hug. “Oh my god, look at you, gorgeous!” she squeals, squeezing you tight. Nayoung joins in, her arms encircling both of you, her laughter contagious.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” Nayoung exclaims, her words slurring just a bit. She steps back to give you a once-over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at you!!!” She whistles, holding your hand above and twirling you around. 

As Jake’s advice echoes in your mind, you find yourself fully immersed in the party atmosphere. Surrounded by the pulsing lights and thumping bass, you allow yourself to embrace the carefree spirit of the night. You’re a college student—young, pretty, and ready to let loose. If everyone else can dive into the highs of a college party, why shouldn’t you?

One step at a time. You want to take things slow tonight, hoping to eventually join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, dancing and laughing without a care. But for now, you need a few more drinks to help shake off your inhibitions. Sitting beside Eric, who's thankfully keeping you company, you feel a bit more anchored. He hands you a cup filled with your favourite drink—your first for the evening and hopefully the first of many.

"Y/N, I might be going crazy but everyone seems to be staring at you," he whispers, close enough for only you to hear. You hum in response, your eyes scanning the room. He's right. Unlike other nights where you blended into the background, tonight it feels like you're under a spotlight. Is it because of your earlier encounter with Sunghoon on campus? That thought unsettles you as you realise people had stared then, and they’re obviously staring now.

Not quite drunk enough to completely let go of your inhibitions, you feel the weight of the stares pushing you to the edge. "Let's dance!!!" you suddenly exclaim, seizing Eric's arm and pulling him towards the dance floor where Nayoung and Eunji are already lost in the rhythm. Eric follows, his surprise evident but quickly morphing into enthusiasm as you both join the lively crowd. 

You join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, their bodies moving freely to the rhythm of the music. Joining them, the three of you fall into sync, bodies swaying and twirling in a shared rhythm. The energy is infectious, and soon Eric joins in, the four of you forming a tight circle.

Laughter and song blend as you dance, the music enveloping you completely. There’s a moment of pure joy as you all grind against each other, singing at the top of your lungs, the world outside fading away. Tonight, it’s just you, your friends, and the music—nothing else matters.​

The relentless pace of the party begins to wear on you, and you wonder how your fellow students manage this every weekend. As your head starts to spin and a wave of dizziness washes over you, you realize you need a break. Muttering a quick excuse, you make your way to the quieter snacks section to catch your breath and steady yourself.

You smile when you see one of your favourite snacks, content to just munch on it, knowing Sunwoo got it just for you. Suddenly, he appears and checks on you, prompting a playful eye roll from you when you realise he’s been absent for the entire night. He was the host and was normally present but he was clearly occupied with Yeji. 

You notice lipstick stains scattered across Sunwoo's neck, prompting a raised eyebrow from you. "You already fucked Yeji? Sunwoo, she hasn't even been in the band for a month—"

Sunwoo interrupts, "I haven't fucked her yet. We're just chilling in my room."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really?"

He smiles, nodding. "Yeah. I want to take it slow. I really like her."

Sunwoo puts his arm around your back, concern evident in his voice as he asks, "Are you okay? You look tired. You can go and rest in one of the spare rooms; if anyone's fucking there, I'll kick them out."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing, "You'll walk in on them having sex?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but you barely register his response. Your attention is suddenly captured by someone else. 

Sunghoon.

He's here, partying, and he looks hot. Your eyes instantly gravitate towards him, taking in his appearance. Sunghoon is wearing a fitted button down shirt that manages to accentuate his muscles and toned chest, a chain dangling from his neck, adding to his appeal.

You’re engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions, your heart somersaulting within your chest, each beat a drumroll of anticipation. A nervous energy courses through your veins, setting your skin ablaze with a feverish heat, as if every nerve ending is on high alert, tingling with anticipation. Despite your attempts to remain composed, you can’t shake the feeling of butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach, a chaotic dance of excitement and nervousness.

He’s in his element, downing shots with ease, his movements fluid and effortless. Girls press against him, grinding against him, each one vying for his attention. Laughter fills the air and his smile makes your heart twist, his presence is so magnetic and captivating. Despite the chaos around him, he’s the calm in the storm, his confidence unwavering as he basks in the attention of those around him.

The party’s intensity overwhelms you as much as you don’t want to admit it. You can’t help but feel suffocated amidst the pounding music and throngs of people. You need a break. So, you slip away to one of the rooms in Sunwoo’s vast house, seeking solace from the chaos. You were sure no one would find you here, Sunwoo’s house was massive so it was easy to hide away. 

This dimly lit room on the lowest floor is your sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the party’s noise. Sinking onto the plush couch, you find comfort in its soft cushions. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders.

Surrounded by silence, your thoughts fill the space. Reflecting on the evening, you wish you could shed your self-consciousness, to join the fun without fear of judgement. But anxiety holds you back, trapping you in doubt.

Taking a deep breath, you try to let go. In this quiet room, you find peace, if only for a moment, amidst the chaos outside.

Parties always felt like too much for you. The noise, the crowds, the energy—it all overwhelmed you. You'd stand there awkwardly, like a wallflower, while everyone else seemed to thrive in the chaos. You wished you could just let loose, have fun without worrying so much.

The door creaks open, breaking the silence of the empty room. Startled, you look up to see Sunghoon standing there, his presence filling the space with an unexpected intensity. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as the connection between you sparks to life. You feel a flutter in your chest, an electrifying sensation that makes your breath catch in your throat. Unable to hold his gaze, you quickly look away, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

As Sunghoon steps into the room, his energy is different from the chaotic atmosphere of the party. It’s composed, calm, yet brimming with an underlying intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unspoken in the air, a silent understanding that hangs between you, pulling you closer despite the distance.

He takes a seat beside you, and when you steal a glance at him, you find his eyes already locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him, as if there’s an invisible thread connecting you both.

As his gaze bores into yours, it feels like he’s peeling away the layers of your soul, seeing you for who you truly are. It’s intense, electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire deep within. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity, desire, and a hint of something more profound, leaving you breathless and longing for more.

In a soft voice that sends tingles down your spine, he asks, “Why aren’t you enjoying yourself? Why did you come?” His words are laced with concern, genuine and caring, yet there’s an underlying tone of desire that makes your heart race.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “I came for my friends, but I already regret it… I don’t know why I can’t let myself have fun, I really don’t know… I tried to let loose but I just can’t.” Your voice trails off, filled with uncertainty and self-doubt.

His response is like a bolt of lightning, unexpected and thrilling. “That’s a shame… The prettiest girl here tonight should be enjoying herself,” he says, his words dripping with charm and confidence. The way he looks at you, coupled with his bold statement, sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

Feeling a mixture of surprise and desire, you meet his gaze head-on, your eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with unspoken longing. “I-I…” you stutter, unable to form coherent words as his proximity overwhelms you. “I… thank you,” you manage to whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat as you avert your gaze, feeling his intense presence enveloping you like a warm embrace.

“But I’m definitely not the prettiest girl here tonight, not even close. Have you seen Yeji? Or Nayoung and Eunji? Or Karina? I even saw you dancing with her, and I don’t blame you if you left with her tonight because she’s breathtaking and—” Your words tumble out in a rush, cheeks flushing crimson as you realise how much you’ve said. Fortunately, he cuts you off with a forward tone, sending your heart racing again. 

“You’re prettier than all of them,” he declares, his words laced with confidence and desire.

“Why aren’t you partying right now? Did you follow me here?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him. His chuckle sends shivers down your spine as he shakes his head. “I was partying, then I saw you and realised you were here. I saw Sunwoo with you and got distracted. I didn’t follow you, I just wanted to find a room that no one would be in, and that’s how I came here…” His words hang in the air, leaving you speechless and breathless.

As he moves closer, you feel your pulse quicken, his presence overwhelming yet comforting. “Why can’t you look me in the eyes?” he asks softly, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You try to avert your eyes, but his touch guides your focus back to him.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” you finally muster the courage to whisper, the intensity of his gaze leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Like what?” he replies, his tone smug yet enticing, as if he’s enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Like you’ve seen me naked,” the words spill out, unfiltered and honest, hanging between you in the charged air. It feels like a confession, a secret desire laid bare, but instead of recoiling, he leans in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

Without a word, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a heated passion that sends sparks flying. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, moulding perfectly to fit as if they were made to kiss yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mix of brown sugar and whiskey that ignites a fire within you. Your hands instinctively find their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

There's a primal hunger in the way he kisses you, a raw, animalistic need that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His tongue dances with yours in a tantalising rhythm, exploring every crevice of your mouth as if he's trying to imprint himself on you.

Moans escape your lips as the kiss grows more fervent, the passion between you reaching a fever pitch. With a low growl, Sunghoon's hands roam over your body, tracing every curve and contour with deliberate intent. His touch ignites a fire within you, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers trail up and down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

You can feel the heat between your bodies intensifying, the urgency of desire driving you closer together. As he pulls you onto his lap, you straddle him eagerly, the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a potent reminder of the passion between you.

With each movement, Sunghoon grinds against you, his hips rocking in perfect synchrony with yours, creating a rhythm that sets your heart racing. The friction between your bodies sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building the intensity of your desire with every touch. His hands guide your movements, urging you to grind against him with increasing urgency

"Good girl," he whispers against your ear, his voice husky with desire, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His words fuel the fire burning between you, igniting a primal hunger that demands to be sated. 

You reach for the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning with urgency while still grinding against him, your ass meeting his clothed thighs with every bounce. His hands grip the flesh underneath your dress, and you feel the tension in the air as you both lose yourselves in the moment. With a swift motion, his shirt is off, discarded in the heat of the passion that envelops you both.

As you look into his eyes, you see the same emotions reflected — lust, longing, want and need. You're consumed by the desire to pleasure him, to take him to the heights of ecstasy and beyond. With a primal urge coursing through your veins, you drop to your knees before him. 

As you look up at him, a playful and innocent smile dancing on your lips, he groans in response, his reaction uncontrolled and raw. His moans escape him in a series of loud, guttural sounds, each one filled with the urgency of his desire and the pleasure coursing through him.

With a confident hand, you unzip his jeans, anticipation building with each tug of the zipper, until they're open and his arousal is straining against the fabric of his boxers. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to the fabric covering his cock, you revel in the feeling of his hardness beneath your lips, the heat of his desire seeping through the fabric. His reaction is immediate, a guttural groan escaping him as he feels your warm breath against his skin, the promise of pleasure tantalisingly close.

With a wicked grin, you tease him further, nipping at the edge of his boxers before slowly sliding them down, revealing his throbbing length in all its glory. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, only fuels your own desire, igniting a hunger that demands to be sated.

"You're driving me insane," he growls, his voice thick with desire as he locks eyes with you, the intensity of the moment igniting a fire between you. "Now, are you gonna suck my cock like the good girl you are?"

With a smirk playing on his lips, he teases you with his cock, tracing the tip along your parted lips. He grips his hardness firmly, using it to lightly slap against your eager mouth, the sensation sending shivers of excitement down your spine. Your mouth hangs open, ready and waiting for him, aching to feel him fill you completely.

With a hungry urgency, you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as you sink down onto his hardness. You touch each other all over, your hands exploring his body while his fingers tangle in your hair, 

Your head bobs rhythmically, your mouth working him with skill and determination, each movement eliciting loud grunts and moans from him. He guides your movements with his hands, urging you to take him deeper, to suck him harder, to drive him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he watches you pleasure him. "Just like that, baby, take me all the way."

You comply eagerly, your hand tight around his length as you stroke and tease him, syncing your movements with the rhythm of your mouth for maximum pleasure. His rough and primal sounds of pleasure fill the air, spurring you on as you work him towards release.

But he wants more, needs more. With a sudden roughness, he tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you closer until your head is arched back, your neck exposed for him to take control. With a makeshift ponytail in his grasp, he guides your movements, angling your head for a better angle as he thrusts into your mouth with renewed intensity.

You surrender to his dominance, letting him guide you as he thrusts deeper into your mouth, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. Your senses are overwhelmed by the taste, the scent, the feeling of him filling you completely, and you revel in the primal pleasure of giving yourself over to him entirely.

"Fuck yes," he growls, his voice a primal command as he takes control. "Suck my cock, just like that. I want to feel you swallow me whole."

His grunts and moans grow louder, more urgent, as he approaches the pinnacle of his ecstasy. With one final, powerful thrust, he releases himself into your waiting mouth, 

As you take his cum, you look up at him with eyes that are both desperate and satisfied, your mouth aching for more of him even as you savour the taste of his release. “That’s it, baby.” He strokes your hair softly, relishing in the feeling of you tasting his cum. 

He whispers huskily, "take it all, baby... swallow every fucking drop."

You gaze up at him with a mix of desire and vulnerability, your eyes pleading and soft. He feels a primal urge stir deep within him. The sight of you, so desperately wanting, ignites a fire in his veins and a fluttering feeling in his chest. 

With a growl of need, he effortlessly lifts you from the floor, his strength undeniable as he pulls you into his arms. Lowering you onto his lap, he holds you close, his hands roaming over your body with possessive urgency. Each touch is rough yet tender, a silent declaration of his desire to claim you as his own. And as he pulls you closer, the heat between you intensifies, the air thick with anticipation and need.

In his hold, your bodies meld together, hips moving in a primal rhythm, grinding against each other with an urgency that borders on desperation. As your lips meet, it's a clash of tongues and teeth, a passionate exchange that leaves you both breathless. Moans and sighs escape between kisses, mingling with the sound of your heavy breathing as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Breaking apart briefly, you pant against his lips, your desire evident in every ragged breath. "I wanna fuck you so badly, please," you whisper, your voice a husky plea.

With a low growl of desire, he meets your gaze, his eyes smouldering with need. "Ride my cock, baby," he commands, his voice rough with urgency as he guides your hips, urging you to take control. 

His hands move with purpose as he pulls your dress up to bunch around your waist. His fingers deftly unzip the back of your dress, exposing your back and revealing your breasts, a sight that only fuels his desire further. With a primal need, he leans down to pepper kisses along your exposed neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your skin.

You feel the pulsating heat of his arousal throbbing against your dripping core as you lower yourself onto his cock. A primal moan escapes his lips as you take him deep inside, your walls greedily enveloping him in a tight, wet embrace. With each downward thrust, you revel in the sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

"That’s it," he groans, his voice husky with desire as he grips your hips, urging you to ride him harder. "You take me so well." He praises, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek. 

Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping against his filling the room with the symphony of your passion. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating heat between you.

Your breasts bounce in front of him, a tempting display that drives him wild with need. He reaches up to grasp them, his fingers kneading and teasing your sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"You’re so fucking hot," he growls, his voice rough with urgency as he meets your gaze, his eyes burning with unbridled lust.

With each bounce on his cock, you relentlessly ride him, your bodies colliding with the sound of skin slapping against skin. The sensation of him filling you completely, stretching you to your limits, is overwhelming, a delicious tightness that leaves you breathless with desire.

Sunghoon can't help but marvel at how impossibly tight you feel around him. Every inch of his cock is enveloped in the warm, velvety embrace of your pussy, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through him with each thrust.

Your walls grip him with an intensity that leaves him breathless, a sensation so exquisite it borders on agonizing. He can feel every twitch, every ripple of your inner muscles as you ride him relentlessly, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with your insatiable hunger.

As the intensity of your rhythm escalates, the impending release becomes undeniable. "Sunghoon, Sunghoon," you gasp, your voice barely audible as you cling to him, the sensations overwhelming.

He meets your gaze with a primal hunger, his own need evident in the depths of his eyes. "I know, I know," he growls, his voice strained with urgency. With synchronised movements, you both reach the peak together. Your bodies tremble with the force of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with pleasure.

"I'm cumming!" you cry out, your voice echoing in the room as your walls clamp down around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Sunghoon's own release follows suit, his moans mingling with yours as he spills himself into you, filling you with his warmth.

As you reach up to gently brush the hair away from his face, you notice a change in Sunghoon’s demeanour. His features soften, his expression becoming more relaxed and carefree under your touch. An unspoken tension, one that he didn’t even realise he was carrying, was released, leaving him looking more casual and at ease. Under your hold, you can feel the satisfaction coursing through you, you did this to him. 

“Are you tired?” he asks sweetly, his voice laced with concern as he looks down at you.

You shake your head with a shy smile, reassured by the warmth in his gaze.

But before you can say anything else, he surprises you by suddenly lifting you effortlessly into his arms, turning you around with a speed that leaves you yelping in surprise. The sudden movement catches you off guard, a rush of exhilaration and excitement coursing through you as you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace.

As Sunghoon holds you in his arms, you feel a surge of exhilaration mixed with a potent cocktail of desire and trust. His strong and steady embrace grounds you, his warmth enveloping you in a sense of security and anticipation.

“Do you trust me, beautiful?” His whispered words send shivers down your spine. You nod eagerly in response. His kiss on the side of your head ignites a fire within you, fueling your desire and surrender.

Positioning himself behind you, Sunghoon aligns his throbbing cock with your eager entrance. With a primal growl that resonates deep within your core, he thrusts forward, driving deep into you as he supports your weight effortlessly.

His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding the rhythm of your movements with precision and intensity. Each thrust is a calculated display of strength and control, hitting all the right spots with a relentless pace that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Despite carrying you, his movements are powerful and controlled, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The sensation of him deep inside you, his cock driving into you with primal intensity, is overwhelming and intoxicating.

With each thrust, he emphasises his strength, his dominance evident in every movement as he holds you close to him, his body pressed against yours. The slickness of your combined arousal acts as a natural lubricant, enhancing the pleasure of each thrust and driving you both closer to the brink of release.

In the heat of the moment, Sunghoon’s dominance takes centre stage as his fingers entwine themselves in your hair, firmly grasping a fistful of your locks. With each deliberate tug, he exerts his control over the pace and intensity of your movements, guiding you with a commanding yet sensual grip. As he pulls you closer, you can feel the electric tension building. 

With each rhythmic movement, his hand connects with your flesh, delivering a sharp, stinging sensation that ignites your senses. The contrast between the gentle glide of his thrusts and the sudden impact of his hand sends jolts of pleasure racing through your body, heightening the intensity of the experience. Each spank leaves behind a lingering warmth, a tangible reminder of his dominance and your shared desire. As the sensations wash over you, you find yourself surrendering to the raw passion of the moment, lost in the electrifying connection between you and Sunghoon

With your hands securely pinned behind your back, you’re completely at his mercy, unable to move or resist as he takes you with an intoxicating blend of strength and desire. His muscles ripple with every movement, his veins pulsating with the intensity of his passion. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, his biceps flexing with each powerful thrust. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, his primal energy consuming you as he claims you as his own. In his embrace, you’re lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and surrender, utterly captivated by the raw masculinity of his touch.

He’s crazy. With each sharp slap to your cheek and each forceful tug of your hair, there’s a gentleness in his soft kisses grazing your cheeks. Amidst the heat of passion, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. 

You find yourself on the brink of ecstasy, your body writhing with desire as you whimper, “Please, I need to cum.” 

Sunghoon’s response is immediate, his deep whisper urging you on, “Cum for me, that’s my good girl.” 

With renewed intensity, he thrusts harder, driving you to the edge and beyond. Finally, as the pleasure overwhelms you, you reach the pinnacle of bliss, and with a primal cry, you release, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. In that moment of euphoria, you feel Sunghoon’s own release, his body tensing against yours as he joins you in ecstasy, the culmination of your shared passion leaving you both breathless and spent.

Sunghoon’s house is not what you expected. 

The cool evening air brushes against your skin as you approach Sunghoon’s place, his hand gently holding yours. He’d asked if you were comfortable coming over after the party, and something in his gaze made it impossible to say no. As you near his home, you’re taken aback by its appearance. Unlike the typical cramped student accommodations, Sunghoon’s house boasts a spacious front porch, its design minimalist but striking with shades of grey and sharp black accents.

“I live with a few other guys… it’s not all mine,” Sunghoon chuckles, noticing your wide-eyed wonder. His laughter eases the awe that had momentarily seized you.

“Who do you live with?” you ask, glancing around the spacious interior curiously.

Sunghoon chuckles, leading you through the open layout of the living room. “Jake, Jay, and Jungwon. Ni-ki and Yangyang practically live here too, though. It’s a big place, it never really feels crowded… the more, the better, actually,” he explains, his voice echoing slightly in the expansive space.

He continues, a smirk playing on his lips as he mentions Jungwon. “Jungwon can be a real pain sometimes, he’s the one who keeps telling me

you’re some Christian virgin but I tell him to shut up and hit him.” He says nonchalantly while you let out giggle. “But he’s one of my best friends. Always keeps things interesting around here.” He laughs softly, shaking his head at some unspoken memory.

“As for Jay, he’s the quiet, mysterious type. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s reliable, always there when you need him.” He adds thoughtfully. 

“Are they your best friends?” you ask, intrigued by the warmth in his voice when he speaks of them.

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, they’re the people I’m closest to. We’ve been through a lot together—it’s like having a second family, you know?”

“And Jake?” you ask, knowing he was closest to him out of all people 

“I love Jake.” He responds quickly and surely.

“Awww.” You coo.

Sunghoon’s expression softens. “Yeah, Jake and I go way back. He’s one of those friends who’s seen you at your worst and still thinks the best of you,” he explains with a laugh. “I’ve known him the longest. He has this way of keeping me grounded, especially when things start to feel overwhelming. His voice is so calm and he’s always so understanding, I’ll always be so thankful for him.”

He shifts slightly, his enthusiasm growing as he talks about his friend. “We don’t always have to talk to communicate. All we need to do is look in each other's eyes and we know what the other is thinking.” 

He says it so seriously but you can’t help but snort. “That’s incredibly romantic.” 

He rolls his eyes, a sign he’s used to that response whenever he speaks about Jake. 

He takes you inside, then leads you on a brief tour, his hand still warm in yours. “My favourite part, the kitchen,” he announces as you step into a sleek, modern space. The kitchen is a testament to minimalist design, dominated by grey tones with vibrant blue accents that add a playful splash of color. The clean lines and uncluttered surfaces reflect a sense of order and style.

“You cook?” you ask, genuinely surprised by the sophisticated setup.

“Do I cook?” he repeats with a raised eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m the best cook around.”

The confidence in his voice sparks a smile on your face. “You’re gonna have to cook for me one day,” you say, the words slipping out more comfortably than you expected. It feels natural, easy even and you just allow it to happen. 

“Yeah, I’ll make it my best work,” he responds, his smile broadening. He looks down at you with a warmth that makes your heart flutter slightly.

As you and Sunghoon chat comfortably in the kitchen, the sudden sound of footsteps causes you to startle. Before your nerves can fully spike, you realize it’s Jake entering the room. He seems nonchalant, sporting headphones and munching on popcorn, oblivious—or perhaps indifferent—to your presence.

Jake’s casual demeanour initially leaves you wondering if this is a common scene for him, witnessing Sunghoon with company. Sunghoon, for his part, doesn’t seem surprised or perturbed by his friend’s appearance, reinforcing the depth of their friendship. They’re comfortable around each other, sharing a living space without the constant need to fill it with conversation.

However, the quiet moment shifts as Jake finally acknowledges the room. He pulls one earbud out, glancing up from his phone with a mischievous smirk. His eyes flicker between your entwined hands and both your faces, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Don’t start fucking each other against the countertop. I just cleaned it,” he quips, his tone light but pointed.

Sunghoon simply rolls his eyes, a small laugh escaping him as he looks at you, unfazed by Jake’s comment. “Ignore him,” he advises with a grin, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “He always loves to tease.”​

Some time passes and Sunghoon leads you to the third floor, to his room. When he pushes open the door, a sense of tranquillity washes over you. The room is meticulously curated, the white walls pristine, exuding an aura of calm and control. Your eyes immediately travel to the bed, high-set with a soft charcoal comforter. Above his bed, an abstract painting commands attention—its tempestuous strokes of blues and greys mirroring the complexity within Sunghoon himself. 

On one side, a sleek desk stands, supporting a high-powered computer with dual monitors. A nearby shelf holds a collection of engineering textbooks and a scattering of eclectic reads, your eyes lighting when you see some of your own favourite books. 

The room’s ambiance is carefully controlled, LED strips casting an intentional glow, highlighting the books and illuminating a space that is both a study and a sanctuary. His headphones lie within reach, resting comfortably on its own stand. 

As Sunghoon’s voice breaks the quiet, you realise he’s been watching you take it all in. “Do you want to change into something more comfortable?” 

You nod but then your smile falters. “I didn’t bring anything —”

Before you can finish, Sunghoon is pulling out one of his black hoodies, his movements smooth and assured. You accept it with a quiet “thank you,” your fingers brushing against his as you take it.

The moment’s calmness is palpable as you sit on the edge of Sunghoon’s bed, the comforter cool beneath you. Sunghoon bends down to retrieve a couple of drinks and snacks from a compact compartment below, something you hadn’t noticed in his room prior. With a fluid motion that suggests familiarity, he pops open your drink using his teeth, his hands full, and hands it to you. 

Does he realise how hot that was? 

It’s then, as you reach out to accept the cold can, that your gaze lands on a photo by his bedside—a polaroid capturing a candid moment. A leaden sensation creeps into your chest, a tightness that’s unfamiliar yet instinctive. The polaroid shows Sunghoon with Arin share a blissfully happy moment, her radiant smile lighting up the room as she sits comfortably on his lap. They are wrapped in an intimate embrace, his arm securely around her, their gazes locked in an affectionate fondness. Arin looks breathtaking, embodying a natural beauty that deepens the pang of unease in your chest. Witnessing their intimate connection depicted so vividly in the snapshot, you can’t help but frown, a reaction Sunghoon catches instantly.

Without realising, a frown forms on your face, your fingers tightening around the can. Sunghoon’s gaze shifts from you to follow your line of sight, and with an ease that startles you, he plucks the photo from its place. The action is dismissive, an erasure of history as he tosses it into the nearby bin without a second glance. 

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, turning to face you with the remote in hand.

You shrug playfully, “You choose.” A grin spreads across your face as you hear the faint clicks of him browsing through the movie selections.

As Sunghoon fiddles with the projector, the soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting playful shadows around his minimalist space. You settle more comfortably into his bed, pulling a cushion under your arm.

Your giggle fills the room when you see his choice pop up on the screen—Lemonade Mouth. It’s unexpected, and his reasoning makes you chuckle even more. “Seems fitting to watch the most iconic movie about a band with the hottest and coolest band member I know,” he explains, a teasing tone in his voice.

“It’s an amazing movie,” you whisper, sinking deeper into his bed, drawing the comforter up to your chin. You’re so engrossed in the opening scene that you don’t notice Sunghoon’s gaze lingering on you, his attention only half on the movie.

The film’s lighthearted humour unexpectedly draws peals of laughter from you, your giggles echoing in the quiet room. It’s endearing to Sunghoon, how easily you find joy in simple moments.

“Did you guys start your band in detention too?” he jokes, referencing the plot of the movie, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You shake your head, still smiling. “No, we started it because Sunwoo lost a bet. We’ve only been a band for like… less than a year.”

Settling back, he watches you more than the movie, a soft smile playing on his lips as he enjoys your reactions just as much as the film itself. The evening unfolds with a gentle, easy magic, the kind that seems to pause time just for the two of you.

As the characters in Lemonade Mouth rally together for their iconic ‘Determinate’ performance, Sunghoon chuckles, pointing at the screen. “Can Sunwoo and Eric rap like that?” he asks, genuinely curious yet teasingly.

You laugh, the sound is light and easy. “Both, actually. Especially Sunwoo—he’s surprisingly good. But he can’t ever be serious about it. I swear, half the time, I can’t take him seriously at all, and I can’t believe he’s in a band.”

Sunghoon’s laughter joins yours, creating a symphony of amusement that fills the room. “That must make rehearsals interesting,” he comments, imagining the scene.

“It’s like managing a group of kids sometimes.” You deadpan, eyes twinkling with the memories of countless rehearsals. 

As the movie winds down and the room dims with the soft light of the credits rolling, your eyelids grow heavy. Nestled comfortably under his covers, you find the cosy warmth too inviting, your voice barely above a whisper, “Can I stay here tonight?” You’re already sinking deeper into the cushion of his pillow, the fatigue of the night drawing you closer to sleep.

Sunghoon’s response comes with a gentle chuckle, warm and reassuring. “Yeah, you can,” he smiles, the softness in his voice making it clear you didn’t even need to ask. As you nestle in, he reaches out, his touch light as he brushes his hand over your cheek. “Don’t you wanna remove your makeup before you sleep?” he asks, his concern tender.

You groan softly. “Can’t be bothered,” you mumble.

Without hesitation, Sunghoon offers, “I’ll do it for you.” He pulls open a drawer, retrieving cotton pads and makeup remover. His movements pause as his fingers brush over the items—remnants of past routines, he frowns, breathing in deeply before letting it out. Not tonight, not now. 

He gently turns your face towards him, ensuring not to disturb you too much as your eyelids flutter in the struggle to stay awake. With care and immense attentiveness, he begins to dab at your face, removing the makeup with strokes so soft they could be mistaken for a caress. Each motion is careful, ensuring not to tug at your skin, his touch as light as air.

“So pretty,” he whispers, his voice a hush in the quiet room. He finds you absolutely breathtaking like this, bare-faced and in his hoodie, resting on his side of the bed. Normally he doesn’t let anyone sleep on his side of his bed, but with you, he decides to make an exception. 

Sunghoon reaches for a spare blanket and pillow, throwing both onto the couch beside his bed but just as he turns to leave, your hand reaches out, catching his wrist with a gentle, yet firm grip, your fingernails embedded in his wrists slightly. 

“Don’t go,” you murmur, the softness of your voice masking the intensity of your plea.

He pauses, turning back with a chuckle. “I sleep here all the time, it’s fine,” he assures you, his voice a blend of amusement and comfort.

But tonight, you want him closer. “I want you to stay,” 

Sunghoon sighs, a sound of subtle delight, he can’t argue with that. as he slides into the bed beside you. “You’re kinda on my side of the bed,” he teases, a playful note in his voice that makes you smile in the dimly lit room.

“Come closer then,” you whisper back, shifting to make room and tossing the spare pillow off the bed. Your arms open, inviting him into a more intimate embrace. He obliges without hesitation, his hands finding their way to the small of your back, his fingers trailing along your skin as he pulls you closer, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. The fabric of his shirt is soft under your fingertips, and you trace patterns absentmindedly as you both adjust into a comfortable cuddle. His presence is a calming force, and you feel the earlier tension of the evening begin to dissipate.

The proximity is electrifying yet soothing, with his breath rhythmic and steady against the side of your face. “This is better,” you admit, your voice a soft confession in the quiet of the room.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers gently sifting through the strands, a touch that sends shivers down your spine.

“Mmm,” you hum in response, content and a little more daring as the night deepens. “I like having you close,” you continue, the words spilling out with a vulnerability that feels right in the moment.

Sunghoon’s response is a gentle squeeze of his arms around you, pulling you even closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you, his voice a low rumble that you feel rather than hear. His hand trails down your back, settling with a comforting weight that anchors you to the moment, to him.

The morning after, sunlight sneaks through the curtains, painting the sheets in a warm glow. You wake up to find yourself comfortably nestled in Sunghoon’s arms, his arms secure around you. Is it the bed or his strong embrace making you feel so cozy?

You feel his warm breath on your skin as Sunghoon leans in to kiss you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. But before he can make contact, you blurt out the question that catches him off guard.

“How did you find fucking me?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He pauses, his lips lingering near yours for a moment before he chuckles softly. “Good morning to you too,” he replies, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“Was I good?” you press, your heart pounding in your chest.

Sunghoon plays with your earrings, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Really good,” he admits, his voice husky with desire.

“Really?” you can’t help but sound a bit silly, your insecurities bubbling to the surface.

“There’s a reason I kept calling you my ‘good girl’,” he reassures you, his words sending a flutter of excitement through you.

You giggle at his response, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. “I mean, who taught you how to suck cock like that?” he teases, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

“I’m self-taught,” you continue, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “No one needs to teach me.”

He moves his body on top of you, his gaze smouldering with desire. “Do you want to show me what else you’ve learned?” he asks, his voice low and husky with anticipation. His eyes lighting when you nod eagerly. 

You fidget with the hem of Sunghoon’s hoodie as you descend the stairs, the fabric soft against your skin but heavy with the weight of the night before. Hickeys dot your neck, a visible reminder of the passion that unfolded in the quiet of his room. Sunghoon follows closely behind, his hand finding the small of your back, a silent assurance as you step into the heart of his home.

The kitchen buzzes with morning activity, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the low hum of conversation. It’s a stark contrast to the serene isolation of Sunghoon’s bedroom. You’re not prepared for the burst of energy that greets you, but then again, you should have expected it. Sunghoon’s housemates, a notorious and eclectic group known campus-wide, are gathered around the island, their presence as commanding as their reputations.

Jake spots you first, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Good morning, did you sleep well? Or should I say, fuck well?” he teases, winking at you with a grin that spells trouble.

Jungwon stands, clapping dramatically as he eyes the marks on your neck. “Oh, look, someone lost their virginity!” he declares, earning a chorus of laughs from the others.

You shoot him an annoyed look, choosing not to engage with his antics. Jay leans against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. “Did he fuck you do hard that you couldn’t make a sound? We didn’t hear a peep last night,” he adds, his voice dripping with mock concern.

Despite the barrage of teasing, Sunghoon remains unfazed. He steps closer, his arm snaking around you, pulling you to his side. His presence is a wall against the playful onslaught. “Ignore them,” he murmurs, his voice low and comforting by your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. 

You feel a tightness in your chest as their chatter swirls around you, the familiarity and ease of Sunghoon’s friends contrasting sharply with your own nervousness. You cling slightly to Sunghoon, tightening your grip on his arm. You manage a small smile, avoiding direct eye contact with the group, your gaze flickering between the countertop and the mug you’re now holding.

With a soft touch, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear. "Hey, just take a deep breath, okay? They really like you," he whispers just for you, the reassuring tone blending with the underlying rumble of his voice. He guides you subtly to stand slightly behind him.

You nod, managing a shy smile as you lean into his protective form, feeling the tension begin to ease. The physical closeness, Sunghoon's body shielding yours, brings a quiet comfort that helps you relax into the moment, the earlier apprehension slowly melting away under his attentive care.

As the weeks pass, your interactions with Sunghoon become increasingly frequent and intense. You find yourself actively seeking him out.You’ve spent endless nights in his house, in his room. Endless laughter and soft touches weave between you, gradually building a deeper connection. Days without seeing him leave a noticeable void, highlighting just how integral he has become to your daily life.

Park Sunghoon was not what you expected, he was better, he left you breathless. He had effortlessly evolved into a constant presence in your world. His ability to make you laugh and smile becomes a cherished aspect of your days together. You don’t shut up around him; it’s something he wasn’t expecting. He finds it endearing, how much you babble and talk. You simply share every thought and feeling with him — unmasked and raw. It was a massive difference to the shy girl who never used to be able to look him in the eyes.

(You still struggle making direct eye contact with him though). 

You don’t know how it happened so quickly, but you begin trusting him and instinctively needing him around before actively realizing it. It was your bodies and minds’ natural response.

In getting to know Sunghoon, you discover a multitude of shared interests, from music and literature to movies and even Lego sets. Yet, it's the differences that add depth to your connection. Sunghoon exuded confidence, his outgoing nature and commanding presence drawing you in. He knew how to navigate any situation with ease, always in control and never at a loss for words.

Yet, alongside his confidence was a wild streak that ignited a fire within you. He embraced the thrill of indulging in drugs, drinking, sex and getting high, finding euphoria in the freedom of letting loose. His uninhibited nature was undeniably attractive, adding to the magnetic pull you felt towards him.

Despite his wild side, Sunghoon displayed a remarkable intellect and dedication to his studies. He approached engineering with a seriousness that spoke to his ambition and drive. Behind his cool exterior lay a focused individual with clear goals and aspirations for the future. This combination of intelligence, ambition, and spontaneity only served to deepen your admiration for him.

You also love when he kisses you. 

The entire world melts away in those moments, as his soft lips meet yours in a dance of warmth and affection. Each kiss is filled with smiles and unspoken promises, drawing you closer to him with every tender touch. The closeness you share in those stolen moments is everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.

It happens often—more often than you would have expected. You find yourselves kissing, making out, lost in each other’s embrace, more frequently than you could have imagined. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire that burns between you, you haven’t been able to take that next step.

Do you want to have sex with him again? Yes, without a doubt. The thought of being intimate with him again sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. But have you been able to? No. And why? The answer eludes you, buried beneath layers of uncertainty and hesitation.

You meet his eyes through the reflection in the mirror, the anticipation palpable in the charged air between you. His hands trail down the curve of your back. As he zips up the back of your dress and places your necklace around your neck, his whispered words send a wave of bliss coursing through you.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs into your ear, arching your neck to meet his eyes directly now. his lips pressing against yours with longing, roughness, and breathlessness all at once. You moan softly into his mouth, your fingers instinctively fisting in his hair as he effortlessly picks you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist.

With a sense of urgency, he guides you to the chair by his desk, both of you breathless and eager for more. You straddle him, the heat of your bodies igniting as you grind against each other. As the cool metal of the zipper trails down the small of your back, a shiver runs through you—mixed, not with the anticipated thrill, but an unsettling trepidation. Your breath hitches, caught in the tangle of your conflicting desires. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The question haunts the fringes of your mind, echoing with each inch of fabric that parts under his fingers.

He pauses, and the room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. You can feel his gaze, heavy with concern, as he leans back to look at you. It’s a careful, searching look, one that seems to pierce right through the façade of readiness you’ve put up. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low, a soft thread in the tense silence.

Your heart pounds louder, faster, betraying your outward calm. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you meet his eyes—so full of worry now. Why can’t you just be okay with this? The frustration at yourself bubbles up, sour and accusing. You feel exposed, not just in flesh but in spirit, as if he’s peeling back layers you’re not ready to shed.

You open your mouth to speak, to explain, but the words dissolve into a heavy breath. His concern deepens, the atmosphere shifts; it’s no longer just about desire, but about the raw, unmasked corners of vulnerability. “Y/N,” he says, and it’s gentle, almost reverent. 

In that moment, caught between wanting and uncertainty, you realize the gravity of intimacy—not just the physical merging, but the emotional exposure. It’s not just bodies that are laid bare in such encounters, but hearts and hidden fears, all intertwined.

He catches every faltering word, his expression softened by an empathetic understanding that seems to wrap around you like a warm blanket. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say sorry,” he reassures you, his voice steady, a stark contrast to the tremble in your own.

You glance up at him, the turmoil inside bubbling over. “No, I do… I do want to have sex with you, I think I do but something is holding me back. Something doesn’t feel right inside of me, and I don’t know what it is. I just feel weird, I feel tense, my anxiety has never felt this high.” The words spill out in a rush, your voice cracking under the strain of the heavy, churning emotions.

“I feel nauseous. I’m sorry… I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or guilty. I’m really sorry.” You mumble, biting your lip to hold back the tears that threaten to break free. Guilt gnaws at you, twisting tighter with each apology, fearing how your words might weigh on him.

He listens, his eyes never leaving yours, not even for a moment. There’s no hint of frustration or judgement, only deep, unwavering patience. “You don’t need to say sorry to me about that, or explain yourself to me, ever,” he responds, his tone firm yet gentle. It’s comforting, like a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

“I know what you’re feeling. Having sex does take a toll on your body and mind. It can be a lot mentally. You don’t need to explain yourself to me because I will always understand, okay? Just tell me if anything is making you uncomfortable and don’t ever feel guilty about it.” His assurance is a soothing balm, addressing not just the immediate anxiety but acknowledging the broader, often unspoken pressures that come with intimacy.

The room stills, the earlier tension slowly dissipating as his words settle over you. You nod, a silent acknowledgment of his kindness. In this moment, the physical space between you is charged with a new, quiet intimacy—a connection not of bodies, but of souls understanding each other in profound silence.

His hand reaches out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. It’s a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes, reinforcing the safety and acceptance in his presence. It’s not about what happens next, or what didn’t happen tonight. It’s about being seen, understood, and cared for without conditions. And in that understanding, the heavy cloak of anxiety begins to lift, replaced by a lighter, more hopeful sensation—a whisper of peace amidst the storm.

“Do you still wanna go or do you wanna stay here and chill for the night?” he asks, his voice gentle, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes search yours for an answer, patient and undemanding.

You smile, a wave of relief washing over you at how understanding he is. “Of course I still want to go.” You respond, your voice steady but soft. There’s comfort in his presence, a safety that peels back the layers of guard you’ve meticulously built around yourself. For a moment, you hold his gaze, seeing the sincerity and warmth that flicker in his eyes, revealing his true intentions. It’s this truth that captivates you, locking your eyes with his and making the world around you fade.

He nods, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. Standing, he offers his hand, and you place yours in it, feeling a rush of warmth from his touch. His hand is strong and secure around yours, a contrast to the smooth, gentle hold that sends a thrill up your arm. As he leads you through the crowd, you can’t help but notice the confident way he moves—each stride purposeful and assured, his shoulders relaxed yet commanding presence. The feeling of your hand in his—a delicate yet perfect fit—makes your heartbeat a little faster.

Sunghoon also bonded with your friends, although it got a bit awkward considering he had fucked Nayoung and Eunji before, it’s not shocking, he has a high body count. It wasn’t easy to forget that the way he met you was through Nayoung, through his initial interest in her. But it was clear that boundaries were now set, and he viewed them as your friends specifically. 

Sunghoon exuded an unexpected chill vibe that effortlessly drew people to him. He possessed a natural charisma that made it easy for him to get along with everyone, though not in a desperate, boundary-less way. Rather, he was the type who genuinely wanted to keep everyone happy and safe, yet he also harbored a darker, more defensive side. If you crossed him or someone he cared about, he wouldn’t hesitate to assert himself. 

His presence was magnetic, with eyes following him wherever he went. Being around him was like basking in sunshine—impossible not to smile, to feel light and happy, to keep your eyes fixed on him with a wide smile. That’s why you warmed up to him so easily. His ability to effortlessly connect with your friends was incredibly hot, and seeing him make an effort was a major turn-on.

Your friends have grown accustomed to seeing you in their own world, whenever you and Sunghoon are together, their glances and remarks go unnoticed by both of you. You’re so engrossed and caught up in each other that the outside world fades away. There’s constant eye smiles, giggling, stolen glances, whispers, and communications, all adding to the intimate atmosphere. Physical closeness comes naturally, and you always make space for him. He, in turn, chooses to sit next to you and focuses solely on you.

You’re in the campus student lounge rooms. The last time you were here, the mere thought of him used to send chills down your spine, he used to make you incredibly nervous. The last time you were here with him was the morning after you had sex, and the memories flood back, mingling with the present moment.

But now? You’d say you’ve become a lot more comfortable around him. Don’t get it wrong, he still makes you nervous. At times it’s still difficult to look into his eyes and he loves it, especially right now, when he’s tracing the skin under your pretty little skirt with such precision. His eyes gaze into yours, penetrating deep into your soul, while the sides of his lips upturn into a smirk. As always, your friends are rolling their eyes as you and Sunghoon are eye-fucking again, completely oblivious to the scene around you.

Why is he touching you? Well, you mentioned wanting a tattoo, so you asked Sunghoon to trace an artistic outline of what he thinks would look good on you. Of course, deep down, you just wanted his hands on you; you weren’t actually planning to get inked. But you couldn’t exactly blurt out, “Sunghoon, please touch me!” in front of everyone, could you? He doesn’t mind though; he sees right through you and finds you endearing and cute. Plus, he’s not exactly opposed to any excuse to touch you either.

As Sunghoon’s fingers glide over the bare skin of your thigh, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins. His touch is electric, sending shivers of anticipation up your spine. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but the sound escapes anyway, earning a smirk from Sunghoon.

“Really? In front of everyone?” he teases, his voice husky in your ear, dripping with desire. You shake your head, unable to form words as his touch sets your nerves on fire. Every brush of his fingertips sends waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“You like that?” he whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear. You can only whimper in response, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with each passing moment.

His hand moves with purpose, tracing the curve of your thigh before inching higher, closer to where you need him most. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the fire burning within you.

In your mind, you’re chanting “higher” over and over, craving his touch to escalate. Suddenly, his voice, a low whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine. “You want me to touch you higher?” His words, dripping with seduction, fuel the fire burning within you.

How does he know? It’s maddening yet exhilarating, the way he can read your desires with just a glance. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan building in your throat, but it’s futile. You want him to know, to feel the raw intensity of your longing.

“No,” you manage to whisper, but it’s a lie, a feeble attempt to resist his irresistible allure. He smirks knowingly, his fingers teasingly brushing against your folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You can’t hold back anymore as desire consumes you, craving his touch, his warmth, his everything.

He repeats his question with a smirk, his tone dripping with teasing temptation. “No?” he says, drawing out the word, his eyes sparkling with mischief. But you’re beyond words now, lost in a haze of desire as his touch threatens to unravel you completely. All you can think about is him, his hands, his lips, igniting a hunger that only he can satisfy. “Hoon—”

As you lay your head on Sunghoon’s lap, the comfortable silence of the room wraps around you. You’re scrolling through his phone, a small gesture that shows just how close you’ve become, trusting each other with such personal devices. He’s doing the same with yours, each of you lost in a quiet exploration of memories captured in digital form.

Your fingers pause as you swipe through his camera roll, a gallery of his life displayed in bursts of pixels and colours. There’s an array of images: candid shots with friends, selfies, beautiful scenic photos, gym progress and a few of his university projects. You also come across an array of your own photos that you’d almost forgotten sending him—naughty and risqué shots of you in lingerie, revealing outfits, and even some playful nudes.

Then, amidst the casual swiping, you halt. A photo pops up that halts your breath and tightens your chest. It’s an image of Sunghoon with Arin. 

You were still unclear about who Arin was to Sunghoon, and the nature of their past relationship. He hadn’t ever spoken about her, and the bits you pieced together from Eunji and Nayoung suggested they were together a while ago, though whether it was serious or not, you couldn’t be sure. But seeing this photo cuts your breath in half.

They’re caught in a serene moment—her seated on his lap, an arm draped comfortably around her. Her smile is radiant, the kind that seems to illuminate her entire face, and her eyes sparkle with joy. Sunghoon’s gaze is fixed on her with an intensity that’s palpable, his eyes soft, mesmerised. It’s clear from the photo that there was something deep and affectionate between them.

Among the multitude of images, this one stands out conspicuously, the only visual record of her presence in his phone. The absence of any other pictures of her prompts a troubling realisation: he must have deliberately removed them, yet this one remains, was it accidental? Was it not? 

You doubt it. A chill runs through your spine, your breath shakes, and you feel a painful strain in your chest at the realisation. This photo had to be recent—you notice him wearing one of his commonly used jackets, and the hairstyle is the same.

You’re so incredibly jealous and shaken up that your vision blurs; you can’t think straight, you feel like you’re about to throw up, you feel so fucked up and nauseous that you don’t even think to check the date the photo was taken. All you can focus on is looking at her. 

You can’t believe how breathtaking the photo is. Arin’s dress hugs her figure elegantly, accentuating her curves in all the right places, while her radiant smile lights up the frame, infusing the image with an undeniable warmth. Her eyes sparkle with genuine joy, drawing you into their depths with an irresistible allure. But it’s the way Sunghoon looks at her that leaves an indelible impression on your mind—he’s captivated, his gaze fixed on her with a mesmerising intensity that speaks volumes.

As you stare at the image, a cold realisation washes over you. She embodies everything you fear you’re not; her ease and vibrancy in the photo make you painfully aware of what you perceive as your own shortcomings. Sunghoon’s mesmerised look serves as a sharp reminder of your insecurities, feeding the jealousy that coils tight in your chest.

Now you know what it means when people say that a photo speaks a thousand words. It’s evident just by one photo—they look like they’re in love. The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, confirming what your heart already suspected. With a single glance, the photo lays bare the truth of their relationship, leaving you reeling with a pang of heartache.

The photo stirs a storm of emotions within you—jealousy, envy, confusion. “She’s pretty,” you whisper to yourself, so quietly that Sunghoon doesn’t hear. You try to shake off the discomfort, to scroll past, but your eyes are glued to the image. Arin’s beauty, her dress, the happiness on his face—it’s a vivid portrayal of a potential love that fills Sunghoon’s life.

Silence stretches, heavy and thick, as you digest the image and its implications. The room suddenly feels smaller, the air around you charged with unsaid words and emerging doubts. Your fingers tremble slightly as they linger on the screen, the brightness of the phone casting shadows on your thoughtful face.

Sunghoon’s voice breaks through the heavy silence, calling out your name with increasing urgency. He notices the sudden change in your demeanor, the way you’ve gone silent and still, and follows your gaze to the photo of him and Arin. He meets your eyes, and there’s an unreadable, cold expression as if he’s masking or hiding something.

Your faint, broken voice fills the room with a small whisper. “Why do you have this photo on your phone?”

He’s about to answer, his mouth opening to form words that you’re not sure you’re ready to hear, when suddenly his phone vibrates loudly on the table. Your head snaps towards the device, a sharp intake of breath catching in your throat as you see the name illuminated on the screen. A single tear escapes, tracing a hot path down your cheek, but you quickly wipe it away before he can notice. With a huff, tinged with a mix of anger and hurt, you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “Why is Arin calling you?”

read part two here

Well, “pretending” is putting it generously considering you’ve still got faint bruises from where his hands were pressed into your thigh four days ago when he had you bent over a classroom desk with your panties shoved aside and his ringed fingers fucking you open so slowly and so deeply until your brain shorted out completely and all you could see behind your closed eyes was light and stars and his name written everywhere. Then, of course, there was the day after that, where your face was pressed into silk in a vacant room in his father’s hotel as he fucked you so hard your legs shook all the way back home. Oh, and let’s not forget when he—

Okay. Uh. So, obviously, there is something severely wrong with you.

Maybe the better question is whether anyone here can tell that whatever exists between you only really exists in the negative space between arguments and the furious, hungry way you tear into each other like starving animals with no sense of control and even less shame. (Like, genuinely less than zero.)

Probably not. No one ever looks at Seoul’s precious business prodigy and imagines he’s capable of losing control, let alone decorum. Meanwhile, you’re the only one who knows he’s actually the most insufferable asshole to ever exist.

Whatever. No one here even has basic instincts, let alone intuition. From the outside, you look serene and every bit the beloved perfect porcelain doll perched exactly where she belongs on her little shelf beside her ‘fiancé,’ and that’s all anyone notices, which is what matters, right? So really, who cares if from the inside you’re vibrating with this horribly specific urge to either smash Sunghoon’s stupidly pretty face into the nearest marble or drag him by the tie into an empty room and let him fuck you senseless? (Preferably both.) (In that order.)

Time out. 

You care. Obviously, you care. Hello? Pull yourself together and get the hell out of your own head. This freakishly insane sex thing cannot keep happening.

Also, you are literally at a formal event with cameras and vultures in designer circling everywhere, drooling for a singular misstep. For God’s sake, your sweet, sweet parents are here, hovering somewhere near the front, trying (and failing) not to look obvious as they peek over their champagne flutes and watch you with that unmistakable cocktail of pride, hope, and a reasonable dash of parental concern. Every time you catch their eye, they break into these ridiculous, adoring smiles and wave at you like you’re still six years old and twirling onstage in a tutu instead of swanning through a ballroom with the devil himself hanging off your arm. And by an incredible mercy from the universe, they’re also just as completely and spectacularly oblivious to the fact that their darling, beloved daughter is currently one blasphemously filthy Sunghoon-shaped thought away from turning the whole family legacy into a cautionary tale whispered at every future gathering in this vicinity.

Not to fucking mention, the two of you fucking around cannot keep happening, not just because it’s monumentally stupid or a total violation of basic common sense, but because of the kind of consequences you don’t even want to think about. You’d like to say regret is one of those consequences, but that would be a lie so bold that you fear the heavens might actually smite you where you stand. Normal people (sane people) would probably lie awake at night, mortified and consumed by guilt or, at the very least, a sense of shame, but you? Oh, you lie awake restlessly (and terribly, terribly horny) replaying every minute, genuinely wondering whether anyone else in the long and sordid history of the human race has ever been fucked the way Park Sunghoon fucks you. 

So, what damning consequences are there then, if not sorrows and prayers? Well, none other than your best friend finding out. Not Sunoo (God bless his messy little heart). No, the true terror is having to look Jang “I’ll kill us both” Wonyoung in the eye and admit you fucked Sunghoon again after swearing (for the third… maybe fourth? time) that you wouldn’t. Oh, the thought alone makes you grimace. So seriously, get it together and stop thinking about fucking Sunghoon. Literally and figuratively. 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the mirrors as you pass, and it honestly defies belief even to you that beneath all this Prada and these pearls, your brain is hosting the kind of thoughts that would make the devil blush. Your skin is bare from your neck to just below your collarbones, except for a double strand of pearls tight around your throat, which right now feels more like a leash than an accessory (Especially when it’s practically one more deep breath away from strangling you, and not even in the fun, kinky way). You’re still wearing that disgusting diamond ring, too, which is a reminder so gaudy it feels like it hums with radioactive energy every time you move your hand, so you do your best to pretend it’s just another ring. And of course, not a single soul in the room is trying to hide the fact that they’re watching your every move as if you’re just another centerpiece for them to look at. At least the lilies in the flower arrangements have the luxury of being replaced before they wilt.

You smile and keep walking anyway. They want the show? They’re getting the fucking show.

“Stop yanking my arm,” Sunghoon suddenly mutters from the side of his mouth and gets you out of your thoughts. “Can you pay attention for five seconds? You’re practically dragging me across the room. Fucking relax.”

“I’m not yanking your arm,” you hiss back, smiling wider for the cameras that are flashing so aggressively you’re about two seconds away from developing epilepsy. “I’m walking at a normal pace. Like a normal, non-corpse person. And I am completely, one-hundred-percent fucking relaxed—”

“For the love of God, stop talking” he cuts you off under his breath, sounding highly irritated while also keeping that artificial, picture-perfect smile glued to his face. “You’re literally clenching.”

“Oh, am I?” you mock, still keeping your face perfectly poised for the people passing by as the photographers move on to their next target. “Funny, you didn’t seem to complain about that last time. Should I do that thing you liked to make it better? What was it you said? ‘Just like thaaat, just stay right there and let me—’

Sunghoon immediately turns his head and gives you a look that says he’s half a second away from dragging you back to the car. Which, frankly, would solve nothing except maybe you’d finally get the chance to scream at him again. Or Worse. 

“That’s not funny.”

You let a quiet little laugh slip when you see the way he clenches his jaw out of anger. “It’s hilarious, actually.”

No one can tell that the two of you are dysfunctional. Right?

Eventually, after collapsing back into your chair and listening to a very tipsy Heeseung’s soliloquy about god-knows-what (something about how he’d trade this entire table for a bowl of Ramen right now) for about thirty minutes, you make the fatal mistake of tuning into the conversation across from you, and you have to blink three times just to make sure you’re not hallucinating and that it actually is Park Sunghoon who your very own dad is coddling right now. 

Oh. Okay.

This is a fresh new circle of hell you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, which is ironic, considering the enemy in question is Park Sunghoon himself. And he is actually, somehow (terrifyingly), bonding with your sweet, sweet dad. Over what? You’d really rather not know. But it started with your dad making some offhand, dad-tier reference to Fight Club, and that was all it took. Next thing you know, Heeseung gleefully launches Sunghoon into the conversation by saying, “Oh, oh! Hoon here made me watch that movie last week!” and Sunghoon, the absolute bastard, does the unthinkable. Instead of being normal and silent and brooding in his usual haunted-castle-inhabitant way, he slips seamlessly into the conversation like this is his true calling and starts quoting the movie to your dad with a shit-eating grin, dropping lines like—“The things you own end up owning you,”—as if he’s a misunderstood film major on the low and not, in fact, the reason you’re contemplating unspeakable sins in a public venue.

You shoot your dad a look of pure horror as he throws his head back and pats Sunghoon on the shoulder with the kind of giddy, fatherly approval that makes you want to crawl under the table and die. Et tu, Father Dearest?

So, you do the only reasonable thing in this scenario: you drag Sunghoon up by the arm and decide to begin the slow, torturous death march of personally greeting every partner, every board member, and just every single socialite whose name slips through your brain like water the second they’re said. Sunghoon does most of the talking, and of course, he’s charming enough to get away with it, but if you listen closely, you’ll notice that his voice is empty and detached and the literal conversational equivalent of reading off cue cards in his head. Though you could never deny that he knows how to work a room with ease, and it honestly just pisses you off even more. But whatever. You smile and tilt your chin the way you’ve seen in all the glossy press photos and let yourself be admired like a well-funded project that’s shiny enough to distract everyone from the fact that you’d rather be anywhere else… But if you have to spend one more minute watching him shake hands and trade pleasantries with men who would sell their own daughters for a sliver of what he has, you swear you’ll—

“Y/N, darling!” A woman coos, and you recognize her vaguely as the wife of one of those partners but can’t for the life of you be bothered to remember her name (you really need to work on that) as she leans in, lips painted the same shade of insincerity as her smile. “You look absolutely radiant. Your mother must be so proud. I just saw her, actually.” Her eyes flick over you once before she sighs delicately. “But oh—we were all so terribly concerned when you weren’t able to join us for the launch dinner in Tokyo last week. The press simply had a field day with it, didn’t they?”

What a treat. 

You’d almost give her points for how sweet she makes it sound if you weren’t already an expert at translating vultures. And you’ve doomscrolled online speculations enough to know exactly how much everyone here enjoyed your so-called absence that night, so she really didn’t need to spell it out. But again, points for trying. Sunghoon tightens his grip on your arm when you lightly huff a laugh, and you can tell it’s his “please-don’t-start” warning squeeze. 

So naturally, you start. 

“Oh. Thank you for your concern. You know, I figured Tokyo would survive a night without me. Last I heard, the city’s still standing, so it seems I was right. I’m glad it gave everyone something to talk about, though.” You pause just long enough for her to register the dig before you sweetly add with a smile, “But really, thank you for your kindness. It means the world.”

The woman blinks about three times like she’s processing your tone, but she recovers quickly and laughs like you’ve just told the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, bless your heart. What a charming girl.” She turns back to her husband, loops her arm through his with a satisfied smile, and then gestures back in your direction with a manicured hand as she walks away. “Isn’t she just lovely? No wonder they’re a couple, those two.”

(What a charming girl. Vulture translation? What a bitch.)

You sip what’s left of your champagne and nod. “Thank youuuu.”

That earns you a quick side eye and one of those Sunghoon specials: the silent, soul-murdering scoff, and it truly takes everything in you not to grin. Instead, you look up at him with your lashes fluttering, all doe-eyed and sweet like you’ve never said anything wrong in your life. There’s the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth, gone as quickly as it appears with a flicker of something very close to amusement in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. You just keep smiling and let him steer you away as you tuck yourself tighter against his side with your head held high.

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything until you’re a safe distance away and no one’s close enough to pretend they aren’t listening. “That’s the third time you’ve scared someone off tonight,” He mutters, and there’s… a flash of worry hidden under the irritation in his eyes as he jabs his chin towards the champagne glass in your hand. “Slow down with that, will you?”

He looks at you for a second longer, and it’s like a ghost from a past life has wandered into the room. Not the spooky, sheet-over-the-head kind, but the kind that smells faintly of old cologne and broken promises, but the sight is still ghostly enough to make your skin prickle. 

“Why?” you scoff, raising your glass just to spite him. “Worried I’m going to embarrass your precious little image?”

“Because I know you,” he says simply. 

It’s only three stupid words, but your stupid heart still nosedives straight through your chest and drags half of your vital organs down with it. It’s funny how the human heart can memorize the shape of someone and never, ever unlearn it, even if you’ve moved on and tried to erase their ghost. But your brain knows better.

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, and you see Sunghoon’s jaw tick in the slightest. And, of course, he doesn’t let the faint tenderness in his voice just then linger. “…And don’t think I’ll waste a second of my week listening to you bitching and whining when you inevitably fuck up and end up plastered all over every gossip site in Seoul,” he sneers, voice cold and cruel. “So behave, and put it away.”

The moment immediately snaps, and something inside you does with it, too. So you reach for something petty resting in your gut as you glance up at him through your lashes with your lips pursed in a pout. “What, are you my daddy now?” You step closer and drop your voice into a lustrous purr, and before he can even blink you lean up and drag the flat of your tongue in a slow stripe up the shell of his ear. To anyone passing by, it probably looks like a perfectly innocent moment where a doting fiancée shares a quiet word. Nothing scandalous at all. “Go ahead,” you whisper, and bite down on his earlobe gently just to tease. “Take the glass away, then. Tell me what to do, Sunghoon. I know you want to. I’d even let you, if you asked nicely.” 

Sunghoon stiffens like you’ve short-circuited his entire brain and you can see the war happening behind his eyes as he fights not to react and give you the satisfaction. Which, frankly, is the best part. “Shit,” he mutters, “your fucking attitude’s out of control. We’re in public.”

You pull away snugly and pat him right on the cheek like he’s a sulky kid, trying not to laugh in his face. “I don’t care. If you tell me what to do again, I’ll set your hair on fire.” You arch your brows when you notice, with vicious curiosity, how the tips of his ears have suddenly gone bright red. “Oh my god,” you whisper, pointing at his ears. “Are you blushing? Seriously? All I had to do was call you d—”

He shoots you a death glare. “Shut the fuck up.”

You file that in your brain for a different time and gesture lazily between the two of you. “You shut the fuck up. We’re literally handing your precious father the perfect façade on a silver platter, so what more do you want from me? Should I just stand there, look pretty, and keep my mouth shut like a good little accessory?”

His eyes linger on your face, searching, and you can tell he’s trying not to look too pleased about any of this. “Funny, you almost sound like you’re enjoying yourself as opposed to how you were acting in Japan.”

You scoff, loud enough that a couple of suits glance over. “Don’t bring up Japan,” you hiss, barely moving your lips. “And for the record, you’re welcome.” Your eyes travel over him, lingering just long enough to make your point. You reach out and grab a champagne flute from a passing tray while setting your empty one down, then drain half of it in a single go before flashing your brightest, fakest smile at a group of some middle-aged women looking your way. “You look so much better with me on your arm, Sunghoon. Try to keep up.”

He leans in and whispers in your ear. “Ah. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re irreplaceable. Because you’re not.” He lets his eyes flick down to your lips, then up again. “So, let’s not get cocky, princess. It’s not a good look on you.”

Something stings in your chest, but you ignore it and focus on how absolutely rageful you feel. You glance around once with the sweetest smile across your lips, and when you’re sure no one’s watching, you step closer and lean in, acting like you’re fixing his tie, but as you do, you move your heel sideways until it lands right on top of his polished leather shoe. At first, you press down slowly, and then you lean in and put your whole weight behind it to dig in harder and harder until he grunts a curse right in your ear and his hand shoots up to wrap around your waist to steady himself.

“I don’t know, Sunghoon. I’d say this is a pretty fucking good look on me,” you hum, twisting your heel mercilessly. “Or does it only suit you when you’re the one stepping on everyone else?”

Sunghoon grits his teeth—clearly refusing to give you the satisfaction of a full wince as his hand tightens on your waist. “I think you’re doing all the stepping right now—Fuck—Are you trying to break my foot?”

You only smile wider, straightening up as you let go of his tie, but not before digging in with your heel one last time just to make your point. “If the shoe fits,” you purr, letting him go.

Sunghoon’s brows pinch together, and his eyes are practically shooting daggers through you, but you know better than anyone that he’s all bark and no bite when you’re in public like this. So you shrug and turn away first just as an old man wobbles up to greet him, and all of a sudden, Sunghoon is the poster boy of composure and charm, acting like he owns the goddamn building (Which, by extension, he literally does.) You mirror him in your own way and glue yourself to his side while also nodding along to whatever bullshit they’re talking about. 

But unfortunately, the problem here isn’t the urge to scream at him or throw a champagne flute at his head (tempting as that is.) No, it’s how your self-control seems to shrivel by the second the longer you stand here pretending to be a functioning, sane, and dignified member of high society, when in reality, you believe you’re objectively the horniest person in this entire godforsaken ballroom and maybe even in the greater Seoul area. Quite possibly on earth, even. Is there… like a hotline for this? Ew. Scratch that. Is there a vaccine instead? Because you’re starting to think you might be a medical anomaly at this point, and you’d honestly wire your life savings to whoever can prove that somewhere, someone out there is hornier than you. And if such a person exists, how do they even get anything done, considering every single waking moment that Sunghoon isn’t inside you lately feels like slow-burning agony and bottomless despair? 

Wait a damn minute. 

You know what? This is just the ridiculous amount of champagne you’ve had planting these thoughts in your head. You need to drink a glass of water immediately and maybe even splash it in your own face for good measure. 

Okay. Okay, deep breath. Whatever you do, just don’t look at his hands. Easy. There we go. Hands? What hands? You’ve never even seen a hand in your life. Don’t even think about his hands. (You are absolutely thinking about his hands.) Just think about literally anything else. Think about corporate tax fraud, think about puppies… or your mother’s face if she could hear your internal monologue right now—literally anything but his hand and the fact that every vein on it is standing out like a road map you want to trace with your tongue—oh, perfect. Now he’s moving his hand. Aaaaaaaand now he’s wrapping it right around your arm. Excellent. Fantastic. Has he somehow developed psychic powers specifically to torment you? Hello? Park Sunghoon, if you can hear this, I fucking hate you. Get your evil psychic sex hands out of my personal space and focus on talking to that fossil fuel. I’m done. Fuck you.

As if on cue, he shifts, and his stupidly thick, long fingers tighten around your arm just a little, and you can practically catalogue every single vein that runs up his knuckles. And don’t even get started on those gold Tiffany rings he always wears that are flashing under the chandelier lights every time he idly moves or spins them around like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. Fucking great. Your mind is now running a highlight reel of everywhere they’ve been and every time he’s made you come apart with just two fingers. You can’t even blink without picturing them coated in your wetness with his rings glinting as he circles your clit and works you apart. 

“You can stop looking at me like that now.”

Sunghoon says with his gaze fixated on you, and it breaks you right out of the spell. His hand tightens minutely on your arm, and his fingers make a slow circle around your bare skin, enough to set every nerve on fire. You tense instantly, because that tiny movement is enough to let you know he definitely saw the way you were looking at him. (Allegedly.)

“Unless,” he hums mockingly with one brow arched, “Is there something you want, darling?”

You don’t even realize you’re biting your lip until he looks down at your mouth. Okay… So it’s over. How do you even come back from this? Fuck. You’ve at least got to try. Get out of your head and stop staring at him.

“Don’t start this again. I don’t want anything from you.” You blink the Sunghoon-induced stupidity from your brain, and give him your best impression of someone who hadn't just been mentally deep-throating his fingers with God and all of his angels listening. “And I wasn’t looking at you. I was trying not to kill myself while you were talking to that borderline misogynistic ogre by indulging in the act of dissociation, and you just so happened to be in my line of sight.”

Before Sunghoon can say something cutting back (and you know he’s about to, because lo and behold, Smug Sunghoon™️ has made an appearance), Ningning materializes at your side, and her timing is so perfect you almost want to kiss her on the mouth. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, voice calm and sweet in that way she does when she’s trying to sound professional as she looks at Sunghoon. “You’re needed by the west bar—Chairman Lee says it’s urgent. Something about the press embargo regarding your father, I believe. Also, the Chairman of Mirae Holdings wants to greet the two of you personally. And, um, his wife would like a photo, so… good luck.”

She turns to you, and there’s a brief, panicked flicker in her eyes that only you catch. You widen your own just a fraction to give her the universal—please save me—signal and, God bless her heart, she gets it instantly.

“Oh! Right, and—Y/N, you’re also needed by… Ms. Oh? Yes, Ms. Oh! She’s been looking everywhere for you about—um—the… guest list for the afterparty your parents are hosting? Also very urgent. She says it can’t wait, actually, so… let’s move along, shall we?”

With that, she politely but firmly starts to steer you away with her “I’m-trying-to-be-professional-but-your-dysfunction-is-making-it-impossible” smile on her face.

And of course, Sunghoon immediately narrows his eyes and scoffs like he finds the whole situation absurd. “Really? Table placements? That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yes, really,” you shoot back defensively. “Clearly, I have a very important, very urgent job to do, so you should go handle your… embargo crisis, or whatever.”

He cocks a brow, looking wholly unconvinced, but he watches as Ningning pulls you away anyway. “Right. Try not to miss me too much.”

Oh, shut up.

Thank God for Ningning. 

If only she could also solve the problem of your brain and your legs threatening to betray you before the night is over.

Sunghoon is bored out of his fucking mind.

He’s been smiling for so long his jaw hurts, and if one more middle-aged man with a bad haircut asks him how his father is doing in New York, he might actually snap. Chairman-this, Director-that, and whoever fucking else. All of them are eager to praise Park Group’s “global vision,” as if glazing his father hard enough will magically elevate their stock.

As if Sunghoon gives a shit.

“Yes, he’s well.”

“Yes, he sends his regards.”

What he doesn’t mention is that he wouldn’t actually know if his father sends his regards or not because he hasn’t even spoken to the man himself in weeks. Any “conversation” they’ve had has been filtered through a tired assistant or squeezed into a curt business call that never lasted longer than necessary and never strayed beyond numbers and names. His father doesn’t waste words on pleasantries, let alone sentiments like “regards.” Whatever version of Park Sunghoon these men think they’re flattering right now is just another empty suit fulfilling his role, all while his father is God-knows-where out of the country, spinning deals and shaking hands with men who’d eat their own children if the price was right. But Sunghoon lets them talk and charms them anyway. He’s been trained for this since before he could tie his shoes. It’s easy. It’s always been easy.

All throughout this endless amount of small talk that makes him want to smash his fist through the wall just to feel something again, some stubborn, traitorous part of him is always keeping track of you underneath it all, the same way the tide can’t help but be pulled by the moon. 

Let’s get one thing straight: he’s not looking for you.

He’s being responsible and checking on you to make sure you haven’t disappeared out of a window just to spite him or made a mess he’ll have to clean up later, since you seem to be in a particular mood tonight.

Even as his eyes mindlessly scan the room to get a sense of where you are, your presence still presses in next to him even though you’re nowhere near him. Like a phantom limb, he keeps forgetting he’s lost until it starts aching again. He feels you in the space at his side where you were standing minutes ago. He can feel the ghost of your touch, the shape of your fingernails digging crescents into his arms while everyone else was oblivious, and the sound of your voice when you were half-mad and furious and begging for something you’d never admit out loud. The most infuriating part is that lately, he can’t just turn it off and ignore it anymore, despite how good he’s always been at doing that. (Numbness is practically a family heirloom.)

Whatever.

His gaze drifts over your shared table, and his eyes catch for just a second on Hana doubled over, laughing with Mr. Lee and your parents. There are two empty chairs near them, and they sit there like a gap in the teeth of something living and hungry, and tonight they technically don’t belong to his parents, but the emptiness seems to gape right back at him accusingly, as if it knows it’s the missing piece everyone’s learned to ignore. Sunghoon glances away, annoyed with himself, because he hates the way that after all these years, it still feels like standing outside on a patio somewhere, watching someone else’s family pass plates and laughter around a candlelit table. A father sneaks a slice of cake for his wife while voices call out for the birthday girl, and a boy just hovers at the edge, trying not to want what would never be his.

Where the hell are you, though? Why can’t he— 

There you are.

He spots you by one of the tables, haloed in the warm spill of the chandelier light with your head tilted in concentration and your pearls catching on your collarbones. You look happier than you did next to him just a few moments ago, and that alone is enough to set his teeth on edge. What’s worse is that you actually look… comfortable. Not the kind you pretend to look. The real kind.

And standing next to you is… 

Of course. 

Jeon Jungkook. Park Group’s favorite rival heir and his father’s pet nuisance. Jeon Jungkook, who has a reputation for never once learning how to keep his hands to himself, whose idea of a good time is ruining someone else’s, and who’d probably auction off his own father’s soul (and his own, for that matter) to knock Sunghoon off his pedestal. He can see the way he’s standing just a little too close and grinning that lazy, dangerous grin, with one tattooed hand hovering near your waist as he leans in to say something he most likely has no business saying to you. 

The rest of the ballroom disappears as he watches the way his eyes drag over you without shame. It’s just the sight in front of him and the ugly, primal urge to put his fist through something—preferably Jungkook’s cocky face. He really fucking hates that every part of him wants to storm over and remind him (and himself) that you’re not fucking available for other people to look at, or touch, or even think about with that damned ring on your finger.

Fuck off, he tells his own mind. We’re not doing this. 

So he ignores the two of you. In theory. 

But then he sees Jungkook reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and his fingers brush your cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and something in Sunghoon’s carefully constructed composure fractures so fast he almost feels dizzy. Surely he can’t just get away with that. Surely this asshole knows—everyone in this room knows—that you’re supposed to be his fiancée. Surely you—

Sunghoon doesn’t even realize he’s moving until he’s pulled straight towards you by whatever sick gravitational force that keeps fucking with him. Jungkook grins wider when he sees him approaching, then tilts his head as if he’s surprised to see him. 

“There you are, Sunghoon-ah!” he drawls, “Y/N here was just telling me the most interesting story about your little trip to Tokyo.”

The mention of Tokyo nearly knocks the breath right out of him for the hundredth time tonight, but he keeps his expression ironed flat. He flicks a glance at you, and you’re sparkling in the light and looking so goddamn alive—not the way you did on that first day in Japan with your eyes always somewhere far away in an empty way—and you lean into him when he slides an arm firmly around your waist like it’s his birthright. Your mouth curves up at the corner in a way that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing, then you tip your head back, and your perfume wraps around him so suddenly it nearly makes him falter. 

“What’s wrong?” You purr, and every syllable is dipped in the kind of mockery only he would ever catch. “Miss me too much?”

For a heartbeat, Sunghoon goes completely still, and the noise of the ballroom drops away and is replaced by the wild thrum of his pulse and the scent of you. Then he remembers where he is, and he clears his throat.

Sunghoon greets Jungkook and politely inclines his head—all courteous respect for the older man, but there’s not a single atom of warmth beneath it. “I did not expect to see you here tonight.”

“Hello to you too,” He raises his glass at Sunghoon in a way that only pisses him off more. “I go where the fun is, you know that.” 

Sunghoon returns his smile with one of his own, perfectly polite, perfectly blank, every inch the heir his father raised him to be. “Well, I hope you’re enjoying yourself. I’m sure you’ve made the rounds by now. Or have you only just arrived to try your luck?”

Jungkook laughs, and his eyes flicker down to where Sunghoon’s hand is gripping your waist. “Luck has nothing to do with it. Besides, it’s not every day I get to catch up with old friends back home since I’m practically overseas all the time.” 

“Ah, right. I almost forgot how much older you are,” Sunghoon hums, punctuating and slightly raising his tone when he says the word older. “Back in the day, you’d be out on the balcony with her brother, keeping score while she and I turned the whole garden into a racetrack. She had pigtails, I had grass stains, and you… Well, you already had a drink in your hand, didn’t you? Weren’t you in your… mid-twenties?”

You clear your throat and give Sunghoon a look that says you’re about ten seconds away from staging an intervention for this pissing contest, but Sunghoon doesn’t even so much as blink.

“I was nineteen, actually,” Jungkook corrects firmly. “Young and stupid, I know. But still, barely older than you are now. You make it sound like I was supervising you from a rocking chair.”

“Same thing,” Sunghoon says smoothly, and his grip at your waist tightens just a fraction. “You’re practically like family, aren’t you, hyung?”

“I haven’t even seen him since like… 2023?” you cut in, glancing between at Sunghoon like he’s mildly embarrassing you. Then your fingers slip behind him as you pinch his side hard, though he doesn’t react. “We’re just catching up. Try not to scare him off, sweetheart.” 

“Hey, I’m only following orders. Her brother told me to keep an eye on her—make sure she doesn’t get too bored hanging around all these old men.” Jungkook glances at you with a wink that makes Sunghoon want to put his fist through the nearest antique vase. “Someone’s gotta keep her entertained.”

Sunghoon’s smile never falters, though his grip around you tightens. “Oh, you don’t have to worry. She’s in good hands with me. Never a dull moment.”

You snort so loud it actually startles Sunghoon, and he turns his head to look at you, and you just meet his eyes and smack his arm in an almost playful way. “Shut up,” you mouth at him, but your lips are twitching, and he can’t help it—he almost smiles. Almost. 

Then you turn your attention back to Jungkook. “Oh, come on. Hold on. Don’t tell me you’re about to start playing big brother on me now. Weren’t you the one sneaking me soju under the table at my graduation party?”

Jungkook presses his pointer finger up to his lips and laughs. “Allegedly. And only because you begged so sweetly, love.”

Sunghoon tongues his cheek. The fuck?

Then the memory of that exact party flickers across his mind. It was the summer he perfected the art of self-control, and there were fairy lights tangled in the trees, the distant hum of cicadas in the open night air, and you were spinning in your heels with Wonyoung and Sunoo egging you on as you drunkenly stumbled over to him with your cheeks flushed red, even after he’d spent all summer ignoring you. He remembers looking at you and swallowing down everything he didn’t know how to say and turning away coldly. 

Fucking hell. I’m not eighteen anymore. I’ve moved on.

Meanwhile, you—well, you can’t even pinpoint the exact moment the night turned into whatever this is, but honestly, you’re buzzing. You’re pretty sure it’s mostly from the champagne (which you’ve been sipping way too fast), but also maybe from the absolute thrill of watching this unfold in real time. 

“You were always my favorite troublemaker. Sunghoon-ah, tell me, are you keeping her in line, or do I need to step in?” 

“Trust me, she doesn’t need anyone to keep her in line.” His voice goes a touch lower, just for you. “She does whatever the hell she wants, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t having the time of your life right now.

Jungkook, for all his charm, is just being himself—more or less harmless. If anything, he’s always looked at you like you’re the world’s most annoying little sister he loves to tease, and unfortunately, if you really think about it, he only touched your cheek the way someone who’s been around long enough to see you in every awkward preteen phase would (Which is all kinds of mortifying.) The only thing less likely than him actually flirting with you is him surviving your brother’s wrath if he tried. 

But you know exactly how this looks right now.

Two can play this game, Park Sunghoon. Let him stew and simmer and dig his stupid hand into your waist just a little harder, like he’s got something to prove. It’s not that he cares about you—God forbid—but you know when it comes to you, Sunghoon only cares when the narrative slips out of his pretty fingers because he’s a fucking control freak who can’t stand the thought of anyone else having his toys, especially when the world is watching and his precious image is on the line. His ‘fiancée’ shouldn’t be giggling with someone you’ve suspected he’s always low-key, always hated for reasons you can’t name, but maybe it’s because he could maybe, possibly, publicly rival him in name and in attention. 

So that’s exactly why you’re doing it.

You laugh a little louder, toss your hair over your shoulder, and give Jungkook your best, most sparkling eyes. “Maybe I should let you step in, actually. At least you’re fun at parties,” you raise your glass towards Jungkook, “which is more than I can say for some people.”

Jungkook laughs again, and you swear you almost see fumes come out of Sunghoon’s ears. “See? Some things really don’t change. She’s keeping you on your toes, I bet.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon murmurs, letting his gaze linger on you, “She’s an expert at that.”

“Hardly have to try,” your heart trips over itself, but you just smirk back and whisper. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to wind up.”

He leans in even closer to whisper in your ear. “Careful, princess. One of these days you’ll push too far.”

You pout. “Maybe I want to see what happens.”

Jungkook watches this exchange with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Ah, you two are adorable... Watching you is like watching a car crash in slow motion, like it’s almost impossible to look away from. Really makes me miss being that young and stupid.”

“I beg your pa—”

You blink at him. “Stupid—?”

“Just an observation. You’ll figure it out.” Jungkook shrugs and looks between you with a knowing look. “Try not to kill each other. Or do. Either way, make it entertaining. But anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Don’t want to stand in the way of true love—or… whatever you kids are calling it these days.” 

He lifts his glass in a lazy salute, and his gaze lingers on the two of you just a second longer than necessary before he turns to disappear into the crowd, leaving you and Sunghoon standing there alone. You immediately pull away from his grip, not quite yanking but not exactly gentle either, and you shoot him a glare. 

“Do you have an ounce of respect in you? Or do you constantly itch with the need to prove that you think you’re better than everyone?”

Sunghoon barely looks at you, eyes darting past you like he’s checking to make sure nobody’s watching, then he looks back at you and shrugs. “I don’t think I’m better than everyone,” he smirks. “I know I am.”

“You arrogant bas—” 

“And I was just making conversation,” he completely cuts you off, speaking calmly as ever, as if he didn’t just spend five minutes trying to burn holes through Jungkook’s head with his eyes. “Or would you rather I stand here and let him eye-fuck my ‘fiancée’ right in front of me?”

“Oh my fucking god—Eye-fuck?” The way he says it just kills you, and the laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it, and it only pisses Sunghoon off more. “He literally treats me like I’m still a kid, you moron—please. Oh myyy god. Oh, I wish. My stomach hurts.”

“Like a kid? Did you fucking see the way he was looking at you—?” He nearly chokes, and the words spill out so fast it’s like he can’t stop himself. Then he falters and his brows furrow, and you see him actually pause like he’s trying to make sense of the universe. “What the hell do you mean, ‘you wish?”

You arch a brow and huff one last laugh. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous, Sunghoon.”

He smoothens his expression, and his mouth curves into a mockery of a smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. When are you finally going to get it through that stubborn little head of yours that nothing you do actually matters to me? The only thing that matters to me is my image—which, unfortunately, includes you now.” 

Despite everything you’ve been telling yourself, you almost say it. It’s right there, and it’s burning the back of your throat like battery acid: 

Why the hell did you shove your tongue down that scandalous little skank of a socialite’s mouth just last week in Tokyo if this is how you’re acting?

But you ultimately swallow it down because you don’t want his answers. Not anymore.

“You were foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, but ooooookay. By all means, bullshit me.” You huff, looking around to make sure no one is too close. 

Sunghoon clenches his jaw. “No, really. If you actually want to throw yourself at him somewhere more private, go right ahead. See if I care.”

“Oh, I will.” You go for the jugular because you’re tired and bored and angry. “Maybe I’ll let him buy me a drink. Hell, maybe I’ll even let him—”

“Go,” he cuts you off, and his nostrils flare. “Be my guest. I mean it, go.”

You just stare at him for a moment, and you can’t tell if he means it or not. “Heartless bastard,” you mutter under your breath. “You really are a fucking asshole, you know that?”

He tilts his head and huffs an empty laugh. “Is that supposed to hurt my feelings? What, did you expect me to beg you not to go to him?”

“No, Sunghoon,” you breathe, “I don’t think you have any feelings left to hurt.”

You’re both painfully aware of the watchful eyes circling the ballroom—the way every gesture gets noticed, catalogued, and whispered about by people who’d sell their souls just to get a small understanding of what you’re saying. You keep your posture perfect with your teeth bared in something that only barely passes as a smile.

Then you scoff and turn on your heel.

Before you can take more than three steps, his hand is desperately around your wrist—not nearly as composed as he wants to look. It’s subtle enough that it might pass for a romantic gesture from the outside, but his grip is anything but soft. You freeze, and the whole world seems to slow down for just a second.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs.

And for a second—just one—your stupid, traitorous heart actually stutters at it like it forgot itself and heard something it’s been trained not to listen for. It’s quiet and almost careless, like he didn’t mean to let it slip out that way. He leans in a fraction and lowers his voice even more, as if the walls themselves might be listening.

“…It’s going to look like you’re storming off after an argument.”

There it is.

You laugh under your breath and slowly glance down at where his fingers are wrapped around your arm, then back up at him. “Let me go. I’ll do whatever I want.”

He doesn’t let go. “I know,” he says, and his voice is barely above a whisper. “But you’re not going anywhere tonight. Not with him. He’s—”

“What?” You hiss quietly. “Is he selfish? A liar? Cruel? Oh, maybe he fucks around? Or maybe he’s just another narcissist with a pretty face and a daddy complex? Is it all of the above?” Your mouth curves up, and you lean in to whisper in his ear. “Does that ring a bell?”

His fingers dig in harder. “Keep pushing, and I’ll remind you what happened the last time you mouthed off.”

You hum just to piss him off. “Oh? What’ll you do—drag me to the bathroom and fuck me stupid with all your precious investors ten feet away? That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? You’re literally incapable of doing anything else.”

He doesn’t answer. But you catch the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken, and that tells you everything you need to know. God, he’s so easy. 

And you’re even worse, because you almost hope he tries it. 

“Let go, Sunghoon,” you say quietly. “You don’t get to grab me, and you don’t get to scare off the people I choose to talk to just because you don’t like how it makes you feel.”

His mouth curves into that same empty smile from earlier, though the way his fists curl at his sides says otherwise. “I don’t feel anything.”

“So let go.”

He does.

And you walk away without looking back.

You unclip the double strand of pearls from your throat with shaking fingers because it suddenly feels like it’s cutting off the last bit of air in your lungs. With a sigh you can’t quite control, you set the pearls down on the marble counter, and for a second you just stand there with your palms pressed flat against the surface, letting the coolness seep into your skin and settle the electric rage buzzing in your chest. You close your eyes and count to three in a pathetic little ritual because if you don’t, you’re genuinely going to scream. 

Back in the day, you’d be out on the balcony with her brother, keeping score while she and I turned the whole garden into a racetrack. She had pigtails, I had grass stains...

Oh, he can fuck all the way off.

Actually, no. He and the boy in that memory can fuck off, loop the block, trip down the stairs, and take that cocky little nostalgia reel with them while they’re at it. You don’t know what possesses Park Sunghoon to just reach into the past and pluck out something golden and innocent as if it belongs to him, as if those memories are communal property—like he didn’t spend the last three years pretending none of it mattered, but there is something deeply, profoundly unwell about the way his mind works, and you once again have zero interest in diagnosing it.

Those memories should be yours. Yours only.

But maybe the tragedy of it all is realizing that they never belonged to just one of you. They’re his, too, and you can’t unshare them no matter how badly you want to. No, actually. The real tragedy isn’t that those memories belonged to both of you once—it’s that he only reaches for them when he wants to win. When it benefits him. When he wants to remind you that he still has access to something soft and sacred and yours. 

You don’t want him touching them with his dirty hands.

The boy from the garden is gone. You buried him yourself. And if Park Sunghoon thinks he gets to stand there in his perfect suit and cruel composure and decide when that version of himself is convenient to remember—

The bathroom door swings open.

You don’t have to look. You know it’s him by the way the room seems to contract, by the way your skin goes tight like it’s anticipating the impact of whatever is about to happen next.

Sunghoon doesn’t say your name. He never does when he’s like this. His expression is unreadable; it’s the same one he wears in boardrooms and press photos—except his jaw is clenched way too hard, and his gaze drops to your mouth for half a second too long, and his eyes—God, his eyes are burning holes through you.

“Really?” You huff irritably and turn to face him. “You can’t give me five fucking minutes alone?”

“Are you finally done making a scene?” 

You laugh and look around humorlessly. “You followed me into the women’s bathroom. Want to rethink who’s making a scene? Wait, actually—don’t you dare stand there and try to lecture me. Not when you getting blackout drunk at a formal fucking event is the reason I’m even standing here, wearing this—” you flash your ring finger at him, “—stupid fucking ring in the first place.”

“Keep your voice down,” he bites out, voice low enough to make your skin prickle. “Fuck. Do you want everyone to hear how desperate you are for attention?”

“If I wanted attention, I’d go up to Jungkook and ask him to fuck me on the table.” Sunghoon’s jaw clenches at that, and you want to grin, but you’re too pissed off and have a lot to say. “You know, maybe if you spent half as much energy minding your own business as you do pretending not to care about mine—”

Sunghoon locks the door. 

“The fuck? Why the hell did you lock—”

“Shut up,” He clicks his tongue and takes a step further. “I’m here to make sure you don’t ruin everything I’ve worked for. But you’d love it if I cared, wouldn’t you? Is that why you keep pushing me? Or is it just easier for you to piss me off than to admit you want something from me that you keep denying?”

“If anyone is going to ruin anything you’ve worked for, it’s you, you sloppy drunk bastard.” You bite back, but you can’t ignore the heat simmering between you. “What I want is for you to leave me the fuck alone. Or is that too complicated for Seoul’s precious little prince to understand?” you say slowly, enunciating like you’re talking to a particularly dense child. “Me. Want. You. Gone. Away. Not. Here.”

Sunghoon seems entirely unfazed. “You don’t want me to leave,” he says, eyes heavy-lidded with something dark that makes your stomach twist as he steps even closer. “You never do.”

Fucking hell. He needs to stop eyeing you like he’s about to devour you and get the fuck out of here before you do something really, really stupid again.

“So help me, Park Sunghoon, if you take one more step closer, you’ll see exactly how far I can push you—right down those fucking stairs outside, and I’ll make sure you hit every single one on the way down—”

He’s in your space in half a heartbeat, and his voice feels like a blade at your throat. “Stop fucking talking. You talk so fucking much, you know that?”

“I do, actually,” you snap. “And I’ll keep fucking talking if I want to. You’ve been telling me what to do all night, as if I’d actually ever listen to you.” You shove your finger into his chest, hard enough to make his suit jacket wrinkle. “Why the fuck did you follow me in here like a dog? Huh? Should I throw you a bone to make you leave, puppy? Why are you here?”

“Because—” His voice cracks with anger, and his lips twist like the words taste sour in his mouth. “Because you make me so fucking mad I can’t even think straight. You drive me insane. Is that what you want to hear?”

Oh no. You know exactly where this is about to go. 

And you should stop it right here, right now, like a rational person, because you spent the whole night swearing up and down that you were above this and that you could see Park Sunghoon one (1) time and walk away with your pride and panties intact. Oh, who the hell are we fooling? Your brain’s been on a never-ending loop playing the image of him on his knees with his full pink lips wet from your slick and his face buried between your thighs while you try and fail not to sob his name, even though every person in Seoul desperate for a scandal is just on the other side of the door.

You are about two seconds away from setting feminism back an entire decade. Oh noooooo.

“No. No. No. I don’t want to hear anything coming out of your mouth right now,” you spit back and shove him square in the chest. “Leave me alone.”

He doesn’t budge. Not an inch. The only thing that moves is his hand of his own accord to catch your wrist mid-air. Before you can snarl or snatch it back, he twists your arm behind you and spins you so your front slams against the marble edge of the sink.

“Let go—” You start, but your breath stutters when he presses right up against you and cages you in with his hips, his chest, and the iron grip of his hand. “You fucking bastard—”

“Do you even know what you look like right now? Do you think I don’t know what you’re thinking? What have you been thinking of this whole night?” He mutters into your ear, his breath hot, his hand flattening yours against the cold marble. “You want to run your fucking mouth? Then say it to your own fucking face. Look at yourself.”

He growls and roughly brings his hand up to your jaw, and it’s big enough to cover nearly half your face as he forces your chin up until you’re staring at yourself in the mirror. You glare at his reflection, but the sight of the two of you like this—your body trapped between him and the sink, his broad frame blotting out everything behind you, the raw anger written all over your faces—sends a bolt of something hot and vicious right down your spine. 

Your (not so) precious resolve is slipping through your fingers again. You need to stop this. You really, truly do. This is a disaster. This is all so, so wrong.

So why do you want it more than anything you’ve ever wanted in your life? 

“Hmm?” He slides his hand down your throat and curls his long fingers just tight enough to steal the breath from your lungs, and squeezes once. “Cat got your tongue, princess? Go on. Tell me to leave. I want to hear you say it while you look like this.”

He’s everywhere all at once. Behind you, around you, filling every inch of your space like he owns it, and worst of all, he’s curling into every corner of your mind until it feels like there’s nowhere you could turn where he isn’t already waiting for you.

You swallow against his palm. “Asshole.”

“Go on,” he growls. “Lie to me.”

Fuck this.

Maybe it’s the champagne ever so faintly humming through your system and making you braver than you should be, or maybe it’s something meaner. Either way, you twist hard out of his grip and slam your palms against his chest and shove him back with everything you have. He staggers a step, and you don’t give him time to recover before you’re on him, fisting the front of his suit jacket and pushing him against the wall with a grip so fierce your knuckles go white. 

“You know what, Sunghoon?” You tighten your grip on his jacket. “You’re the one who followed me in here with your tail wagging like you just can’t help yourself. So you tell me, what is it you want so badly? 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He rasps furiously and tries to shove you off lightly, but you dig in harder and pin him right there. “Move. Don’t fucking push me.”

“No,” you spit. “Not this time. If there is something you want, you’re going to have to fucking ask for it.”

“Y/N. I said move, or—”

You click your tongue. “If you wanted to move me, you would’ve done it by now. So shut up, and use your words.” You drag your mouth along his jaw to taunt him, and you feel the way his chest stutters under your palm as you throw his favorite phrase back in his face. “You can have anything you want—if you just ask for it. Or is the big, bad Park Sunghoon too fucking proud to beg for what he wants?”

You let your tongue flick against the shell of his ear just to drive the knife in deeper, and you can feel the way he strains against his own pride and everything that’s kept him composed this long.

“You said those exact words to me, remember?” You whisper, letting your lips drag slowly down to his throat. “So which is it, Sunghoon?”

His jaw is clenched so tight you half expect him to crack a tooth, and there is a moment where you think maybe he’ll snap, maybe he’ll just walk away and leave you trembling with all this ugly, disgusting tension. But then his hand fists in your hair, and he yanks your head back just enough that your eyes meet his. 

“What makes you think you can talk to me like this?” He grits out, voice low, but there’s a tremor in it—something that’s not anger, not entirely. “You’re such a fucking bitch. Running your filthy mouth like you weren’t out there—”

You grin and cut him off. “And you’re not getting anything from me until you ask for it, pretty prince. Up to you.”

He stares you down, and for one deliciously glorious second, you think he might actually say it.

But instead, he drags you by the hair into a kiss that’s all teeth and fury, and your hands are everywhere at once—threading into his hair and tugging hard, dragging him closer like you want to fuse your mouths together until neither of you can breathe. He groans against your lips, and the sound of it goes straight to your core as you pull his jacket off him.

Sunghoon’s hands are even worse. One is fisted in your hair, and the other’s grip is bruising, possessive, and greedy as he slides it down the length of your spine to grab your ass, hauling you up till you’re practically grinding against his thigh. You claw at his chest, at the buttons of his shirt—anything to get more, anything to get under his skin. He lifts you effortlessly and sets you back down so your ass lands hard against the edge of the sink. His tongue pushes into your mouth and tangles with yours, and you moan and arch your back further into him—clawing at his shirt until you’re tearing the first button open, then digging your nails across his skin hard enough to mark him.

He answers with a breathless groan and shoves your dress higher, and his palm skims your bare thigh, and his fingers ghost over the band of your panties until you gasp right into his mouth. He brings his other hand back to fist it in your hair so he can tug your head back to bare your throat for him, and his lips are on you in an instant—trailing harsh kisses down the line of your throat, then dragging his tongue in one hot, wet line all the way from the swell of your breast up to your ear. He leaves absolutely nothing untouched.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn whiny for someone who’s always telling me this can’t happen again,” he growls into your skin. “Is this what you wanted? Is this what you’ve been thinking about, you slut?”

He sinks his teeth into your earlobe and soothes it with a slow lick, and you shudder and roll your hips up against him without shame. The feeling of him between your legs is maddening as you feel all that hardness straining right into your core, and it only makes you want more, more, more, and MORE.

You don’t bother responding to his taunts, so you just drag him down into another kiss, and he immediately melts right into you as if he flew right into the sun. He opens his mouth, and your tongue presses flat against his, and you whine into his mouth and cling to him and let him swallow every single desperate, needy little sound you make as his soft lips kiss yours bruisingly. He grabs your hips and grinds you down onto him harder. 

“Tell me you want me to fuck you right here like the whore you are.”

You almost want to keep mouthing off—almost. But then he’s pushing your panties aside, and you’re so wet for him it’s humiliating. He can feel it too because he immediately grins like he’s won. Smug bastard.

“Fucking knew it,” he growls, sliding a finger through your slick folds. “You run your mouth like a fucking bitch and tell me to leave you alone, but you’re dripping for my cock every time I so much as look at you.”

You grab his wrist before he can feel you any further, and you dig your fingers in hard enough to stop him cold.

“Not so fast,” you breathe steadily despite the way your body’s betraying you. “You’re not getting it so easily.”

His eyes snap up to yours. “Don’t start playing games—”

“Oh, I’m not playing.” You shove his hand away from between your legs and press your palm flat to his chest, pushing him back just enough to make space. “You don’t get to touch me like that unless you earn it.” 

Sunghoon cocks a brow, and you scoff right in his face. “What? What is there to be confused about? Did you think I’d just let you fuck me immediately because you’re huffing and puffing?” you say. 

The bathroom suddenly feels too small despite how ridiculously huge it is. All you can hear is his frantic breathing now, and he looks like he might explode before he gives you even an inch of what you’re asking of him.

You tilt your head and smile meanly. “Get on your knees.”

His laugh is strained and incredulous. “You really think I’m going to—?”

“I’m not here to think.” You immediately interrupt him. “On your knees. Chop-chop. What, do you need a fucking map?”

“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” he mutters as he stares you up and down.

“And you’re still on your feet,” you shrug. “Are you hard of hearing or just stupid? Whatever it is, I really don’t have time for men who can’t follow simple instructions. Might just leave and get someone else, honestly.”

“Someone else?” he repeats quietly, and you can see him getting angrier by the second. “Do you think anyone else could make you feel the way I do, huh?”

No. “Yes.” you breathe, “I told you, I’m not here to think.”

He steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your cheek. “You want to test that theory, princess?” 

You let out a breathy laugh. “Who says I haven’t already?” Your throat feels tight because, for a moment, you think of Jake. Though you keep your expression taunting as you go on, “Matter of fact, I could call him right now. You know who I mean, right? You’re just convenient right now. Proximity, that’s all. But if I wanted to, I could—”

He smiles as his gaze flickers across your face. “I know you haven’t,” he says. “You’re a shit liar. You swallow every time you lie, and you never look at me when you do it.” His thumb lifts, and he hovers it right under your chin. “Just like now. But hey—he already had his fill with you, didn’t he? And yet, I’m the one you always come crawling back to. Guess proximity must work both ways, huh? Or is it just that no one else can fuck the attitude out of you the way I do?” 

You have to physically restrain yourself from headbutting him. Why does he always have to say shit like that?

“Okay,” You roll your eyes like you’re bored out of your skull. “Since you’re so good at reading me, tell me this—can you also tell when I’m horny? Because I’m genuinely getting turned off. Like, do you think it’s hot that you’re not willing to do something as simple as ask for what you want? Because I know how bad you want it, considering the second your dick’s barely inside me, you act like you’ve seen the face of God. Let me just tell you, this is not working for me right now.” You kiss his cheek softly, almost sweetly, then lick a stripe up to his ear just to piss him off. Your hand slides between you, and you reach down to palm his hard cock right through his pants, squeezing just enough to make him twitch. “Which is such a shame, by the way, because you’re so fucking hot when you’re angry. I’d let you do anything you wanted if you could just ask for it like a big boy.”

Sunghoon grabs your wrist and yanks it away, not quite gently. “Don’t test me.”

You shrug again, already glancing away like you’re bored. “Last chance. If you’re not going to do it, there are about a hundred men out there who’d get on their knees just for the chance to look at me. I don’t have time to babysit your ego.”

A long, loaded silence stretches between you with your eyes locked in that ridiculous battle of wills until Sunghoon finally lets out a slow exhale, shakes his head, and tongues the inside of his cheek like he can’t believe he’s even entertaining you.

Then, ever so slowly—like he’s physically fighting himself every inch—he drops to his knees in front of you.

There he is, down on the marble floor, all glossy dark hair and those stupidly perfect cheekbones, glowering up at you with his eyebrows furrowed so hard you think he might actually combust from how livid he is. His lips are pressed in a flat, furious line, except you can feel the raw energy of his desire rolling off him like you’re standing in the eye of some ruined storm that only wants to tear you apart, burning in the way his gaze rakes over your body and snaps straight back to your eyes. 

God, he looks good like this. 

You toy with the knot of his tie and let the silk slide between your fingers as you drag it up until you’re tipping his chin up just the way you want it. You force him to look at you and make him hold it, putting on the most self-pleased smile you’ve ever had in your life. 

“There you go. Took you fucking long enough, pretty boy,” you say, letting it drip with just the right amount of mockery.

“Fuck off,” he grinds out, and he looks like he’s seconds away from killing you, and it honestly just turns you on even more. 

See, the thing is, it’s no secret that you’ve been dying to slap him all night—God knows he deserves it—and considering the way he’s looking at you now, especially down on his knees? Yeah, he’s practically begging for it. 

So you do. 

Not too hard, but just enough to make it sting and make your point. Sunghoon doesn’t even flinch or raise a hand or anything; his eyes just fly wide in shock, like he cannot for the life of him believe you actually had the audacity to just do that. You watch the flash of disbelief twist into something so much darker, and before he can react, you’re already on him, grabbing his jaw with both hands and digging your nails in deep enough to make him groan. Sunghoon’s nostrils flare, and you swear you’ve never felt more alive. You feel drunk on the sweet, dizzying power of having Park Sunghoon glaring up at you, utterly furious and still letting you hold him like that.

“You’ve really fucking lost it,” he snarls, pale cheeks blooming red faintly under your grip. “You want to play like this? You actually want to see what happens if you keep pushing me?”

“I’m not the one still on my knees,” you purr, tracing your thumb along the sharp line of his jaw before dragging it over his bottom lip. “I wasn’t kidding before. I really, really am starting to hate how you always act so tough and take whatever you want without ever asking for it first, like a real man. I need you to use your words for once and ask me nicely. Beg for it.”

Sunghoon’s brows pull together tighter, and if looks could kill, you’d be dead twice over. “Keep fucking dreaming.”

“So you’re telling me your pride is bigger than your dick? That’s honestly impressive. But like, hello? You’re literally on your knees? And a few words is what you want to choke on? God, you’re pathetic,” you say calmly despite how fast your heart is beating. You let go of his face and turn on your heel, reaching for bait you’ve used before on him. “Whatever, I’m bored. Guess I’ll just go lock myself in that stall and take care of it myself, then. Maybe I’ll even moan your name if I’m feeling generous. Or better yet—I’ll go get my phone so I can send you a video or two so you see what you’re missing out on.”

You make it two steps before he grabs your wrist tightly. “Fuck. You’re insane,” he rasps, and his hands tighten on your wrist. 

You arch a brow and stare him down. “One word, six letters. Say it, and I'm yours tonight.”

“Shut up. Just—Stop,” He grits out, and he pauses for a moment. “Stop playing games and let me touch you. Let me make you come. I need—” He swallows, eyes dark and pleading. “I need to feel you.”

You brush your fingers over his lips again, and you watch his mouth twitch and fight the urge to open for you, and it just eggs you on. “Tsk. You forgot the magic word, pretty boy,” you pout. 

His lips curl into a snarl, but his eyes are anything but that. “Please,” His voice is trembling with something you’ve never heard before. “Please let me have you.”

Fuck.

You can feel yourself dripping down your own thighs just from the sound of him, the sight of Sunghoon on his knees, angry, desperate, and all for you. It’s honestly too much, and you can’t help but slide your fingers into his hair and tug him closer.

“Good boy,” you purr. “Now shut up and put your mouth to work.”

He’s on his feet for barely a second before his hands are on you and hauling you up so fast it knocks the breath from your lungs. He turns you and plants you back against the sink with a hard shove, and then, just as abruptly, he drops back to his knees. His hands slide up your thighs and drag you closer until your ass is half off the sink and your knees brace around his shoulders. His grip is unforgiving and brutal now—fingers digging in so deep and harshly you’re sure they’ll leave bruises—as if he’s punishing you for every second you made him beg and for every ounce of control you stole from him.

“You want to fucking play with me? Fine. Let’s see if that filthy little attitude holds up when I fuck it right out of you,” he growls, and then he spreads your legs wider with a bruising grip, hooking your panties aside with two fingers and staring at your slick cunt with absolutely unashamed hunger, licking his lips like he could devour you whole. “Not. A. Sound. I’ll fucking stop and leave you here to rot if you do. Got it?”

You arch into his touch. “You talk too much.”

He digs his nails in even harder, so rough it’s almost cruel. “I said, do you fucking understand me?”

“Yes—fuck, yes, whatever—just—”

He slaps you hard across the thigh, making you jolt and gasp, the sting blooming delicious and hot beneath his hand. “Talk. Fucking. Nicely.”

You glare at him, but he just raises his brows and delivers a quick, stinging slap right across your pussy—enough to make you jolt and clench around nothing. “I said. Nicely.”

Your mouth drops open, but you’re too far gone to do anything but give in. He was literally just on his knees for you, so who cares? “Please, just—please, eat me out. Be good—be mean—whatever you want, just, please.”

“That’s better,” he smirks, and then he presses his warm tongue flat against your bare cunt, and like always, your thoughts immediately float up, up, and away. The first lick is absolutely gutting. He slides his tongue up slowly, right up your slit, and he doesn’t break eye contact for a second—doesn’t let you look away as his mouth moves like he’s trying to ruin you. You stifle a gasp and dig your nails into his scalp, but you can’t hold back the way your hips twitch up and chase every filthy flick of his warm tongue. He growls and bites your inner thigh hard enough to make you whimper, then he licks a stripe back up and shoves two fingers inside you without warning. 

“Go on. Keep running that bratty mouth for me,” he growls, curling his fingers until your back arches. “Let’s see how fucking clever you sound with my tongue and my fingers inside this pretty pussy. And stay fucking still.”

You try—try—to stay still, but the moment his tongue finds your clit, you’re arching off the counter with one hand braced against the mirror and the other still fisted in his hair, and he immediately holds you down even harder and sets a punishing pace. Fuck. Sunghoon eats pussy like he’s trying to carve his name into your bones with nothing but his tongue—he groans into your cunt like he’s the one getting off and like the taste of you on his tongue is the only thing that matters in the world. His lips are so soft and plush you almost laugh, because no one with a mouth that gentle should ever be allowed to be this fucking nasty and mean. You watch him between your legs, and it honestly looks like he needs this as much as you do—Maybe he’s addicted. Maybe he likes it too much. You’d tease him for it, but your brain can barely form a thought that isn’t just his name or a litany of please and fuck and don’t stop, don’t ever stop while his thick fingers spread you open, stretch you out, and fill you until you feel him everywhere, curling right where you need it most like he wants to coax your soul out through your cunt.

“What was that? Aw. Poor baby. Not so tough now, huh?” he mutters, voice muffled by your cunt. “Look at you, already falling apart, and I haven’t even fucked you yet. You know what they’d say if they walked in right now? You know what they’d see? Everyone’s perfect little princess spread out and taking it like a cheap slut.”

“Fuck y-you,” you gasp and try to twist away, but he pins you in place and slaps your thigh once more, and you wince at the sting of it. The slick sound of your wetness, his mouth, and the guttural sounds he makes when you grind down on his face make it genuinely impossible to think, to breathe, or to let alone care about whoever the fuck could walk by and hear you. “Sunghoon—My God—”

He did say not to moan, and you’ve been so, so good about it and biting it back until your jaw aches and your throat burns from holding everything inside. But there’s only so much a body can take. So the sound slips out of you anyway, not even to taunt him this time, but just because it’s becoming physically impossible to stay quiet with the way his thick fingers are fucking you open and curling just right. Sunghoon’s mouth tears away from you, and before you can even register the loss, his hand comes down hard against your thigh again, and your hips twitch helplessly.

“What did I fucking say?” he snaps, eyes dark as he glares up at you from between your legs. “Are you fucking stupid?” His grip tightens, fingers digging bruises into your skin. “You think this is a joke? You think I’m playing with you right now?” He leans back in and bites your inner thigh as his breath ghosts over your cunt. “One more sound,” he growls, “and I swear I’ll stop right when you’re about to break. You’ll stand here shaking and dripping with nothing but your own fault to blame. Got it?”

“M’sorry,” you pout, mocking him even as he squeezes your thigh harder to the point where it makes you jerk your thigh away from his grip on instinct. “You gonna punish me for it?”

He watches you for a beat, and you can tell he can see right through you—the flash of enjoyment in your eyes and the way you practically arch into the pain instead of shying away. And then, to your utter disbelief, Sunghoon actually laughs like he can’t help himself. “You like this too much,” he murmurs, “Little fucking masochist.” He sinks his teeth into your thigh again, and this time it’s harder, and he does it long enough to leave a mark, lips slick with you as he drags them up to your cunt again. “I’m not going to punish you.” He tsks, shaking his head. “Nah. Why would I give you what you want? Dirty little whore like you just gets off on being slapped around, don’t you?” He thrusts his fingers deeper, curling them in a way that has your back arching off the sink and your nails scrabbling for anything to ground yourself while he fucks you with his hand. “Am I right? Hmm? You’re not getting shit. That’s your punishment.” 

He groans and curses into you so animalistically you feel it vibrating right up through your core and straight to your soul as he buries his face deeper between your thighs. Then he slides two thick fingers back inside you and pumps them deep and curls them perfectly in the way only his fingers ever know how to hit that sweet spot, and latches his mouth back onto your clit—sucking with a ruthless hunger that has your head falling back and your mouth open in a silent scream with your eyes shut so tight you genuinely fear you’ll go blind from the force of it.

“Fuck—fuck—yes—oh my God, I’m so close, don’t you fucking stop—” you gasp with your hands tangled in his hair as you squeeze his face harder in your thighs, everything building so fast you could die from it.

He lifts his head just enough to speak with his breath hot against your soaked skin. “Yeah?” he coos. “You close? Gonna come for me, slut?”

You’re barely coherent now, grinding your hips helplessly into his face—chasing his nose, his tongue, his literal anything. “Yes, fuck. Don’t—Fuck. I need it. I’m about to come—”

And then fucking he stops. Just like that.

The absence is agony. He pulls his mouth and fingers away and leaves you empty and shaking, and you snap your eyes open to look at him just as the heat in your belly suddenly starts abandoning you, and you nearly want to sob from the loss. 

“Beg for it.”

You immediately scowl. “Are you fucking deranged—”

He looks up at you and licks his lips slowly. “What’s wrong, princess?” he taunts. “Did you really think I’d let you come that easily? You want to act like a bitch; you’re going to suffer like one. Beg.”

“I’m not fucking begging you for anything,” you snap, but your hips buck into his hand like you’re starved for it. “Don’t underestimate my willingness to kill you in this bathroom, Park Sun—”

“Then I guess you’re not coming tonight.”

He lets one finger rest right over your slick, swollen clit—just pressed flat and heavy as you squirm helplessly beneath him. It’s torture. It’s cruel. He knows it. He loves it. You can tell by the infamous smug look plastered on his perfect fucking flushed face, and you want to slap him so hard that his face gets dented into the drywall.

“Okay. See if I care.” you pant, and you brace yourself for a strike of lightning to hit you and smite you where you stand because you are so, so full of fucking shit. “I don’t need you to come.”

You glare and try to grind down for friction, but he doesn’t budge. “Come on, baby, don’t say that,” he drawls and clicks his tongue. “You want me to make you come so bad, but you can’t even swallow your pride and ask for it? God, you’re pathetic.”

“Fuck you—” 

He grins, letting the pad of his finger dip in just enough to feel how soaked you still are. “Pretty thing. So cocky a minute ago. Now you’re dripping down your thighs and twitching for me to keep touching you. Look at you. Spreading wide for me with your parents five rooms away. What would they think of their precious little girl? Do you think they know she’s a fucking whore?”

You glare, fighting the urge to sob, to scream, to claw at him until he does something. “You’re so fucking disgusting.”

He laughs, and he sounds too delighted, and his mouth ghosts over your inner thigh. “You like it. Bet you’d come just from me talking to you like this, wouldn’t you? I want to hear you say you need me. I want you to say you’re my filthy little slut. Go on. Or I’ll make you wait all fucking night.”

Fucking bastard. You should’ve known he’d pull this shit on you.

His finger dips lower, barely grazing past your soaked folds, then he pulls them away again and tortures you with every single second. “Look at yourself in the mirror,” he whispers and uses his free hand to force your chin up to make you stare at the flushed reflection of yourself. “This is what you look like when you’re desperate to come on my fingers.”

“Fuck,” you choke out, and you feel your pride dissolving into nothing in real time. “I’ll do anything. Just—let me come.”

“Anything?” He smiles gorgeously and cruelly. “That’s more like it. That’s what I like to hear.”  His finger circles your entrance, still not giving in entirely, but it’s enough to make you whine. “Tell me whose filthy little slut you are. I want you to say it nice and flowery, just like you look, pretty baby.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, but he tightens his grip on your jaw until your gaze is locked with your own ruined reflection. “I’m—” The words are shameful, and you feel tears prick your eyes from the sheer overwhelming need to come and from how fucked out you already feel. “I’m your slut. Nobody else gets me like this, just you. I’ll be good; I need you so bad, Sunghoon—Want you to make me come so bad. Please.”

“That’s it,” he rasps. “My perfect little slut. All mine. You sound so fucking sweet when you beg. If anyone saw you right now, they’d know exactly who you belong to. Such a shame no one ever will.”

His finger finally pushes inside, and he dips back down and presses his mouth to your clit and immediately starts sucking harshly, punishingly, until the room spins again. You’re clawing at his hair, choking on your own moans, and barely managing to hold back any sound at all. He fucks you with his thick fingers harder and harder, rings dragging in and out of you with every pump, and your entire body bows, and pleasure rips through you so sharp it almost hurts.

“That’s it. Fuck. Make a mess for me.”

Your orgasm hits so hard you almost black out. But you keep your lips sealed and don’t let a single moan escape as your eyes roll back and your whole body shakes apart. Your head tips back and hits the mirror with a soft thud as your whole body quakes around his hand. “You know how good you look like this? Dripping all over my hand and biting your tongue like a good girl. Fuuckk.”

“Sunghoon,” you pant, voice nothing but a desperate whisper, not even sure if you’re begging or just clinging to the only name that means anything right now. “Sunghoon—Sunghoon—h—”

“Can’t even speak? You’re just my good little fucktoy, all dumb and desperate for me. That’s all you are.” 

He keeps pumping his fingers deep, coaxing every aftershock out of you and refusing to let you go. His breath is rough, and then he rises—mouth and chin shining with your slick—he leans in and captures your lips before you can even catch your breath. He kisses you slowly, and you moan quietly into his mouth, and he swallows it right up with his lips pressed tight to yours as his thumb strokes you in slow, lazy circles. He kisses your nose, then your eyelids, gently, reverently—and it always manages to shatter you even more than the roughness does whenever he gets like this. You clutch at his shirt and let yourself collapse against him with your face buried in his neck, just breathing him in.

But before you can fully catch your breath, Sunghoon’s hand is right back between your legs, and his thick fingers are sliding through your messy, dripping cunt like he owns it. “You’re not going anywhere until you’re wrung out and wrecked and leaking all over my hand. I’m not leaving you alone until you give me everything and beg me to stop.”

The joke’s on him, you think, even as your eyes roll back and you violently twitch in his grip as his fingers slowly start working you again, because if he still thinks you’ll ever beg him to stop, he’s clearly never met a girl who could match him round for round. You might just be the one who ends up leaving him wrung out and begging for mercy. But all your thoughts fade into static when Sunghoon shoves two of his fingers deep inside and twists it upwards until he finds that spongy, devastatingly sweet spot, and he stays there—swirling his fingers, pressing into it, rubbing you from the inside out, and the pads of his rings drag along your slick walls, making you twitch and arch and tremble against him. 

“Oh my god. That feels so—Why—why the fuck do you even know how to do that?” you gasp into his mouth, not even meaning to say it out loud. 

He smiles wickedly into your mouth. “You like that?” he tilts his head down to softly trail kisses down your neck. “It’s all you. You’re just so fucking sensitive and easy. I barely have to do anything, and you’re already falling apart for me.”

You’re still twitching and grinding helplessly down onto his hand, not even sure if you can stop as he pumps his fingers into you harder, the sound of your wetness filling the bathroom. “More—Harder. I could fucking live like this. Don’t you dare stop, Park Sunghoon, or I swear I’ll kill you—”

“You keep saying don’t stop. Why would I ever stop? Especially when you’re being so fucking good for me. So perfect. Just the way I want you.” He laughs—and it’s shaky and raspy, and so, so hot you almost can’t breathe. “Just look at you—fucking shaking and twitching on my hand and still begging for more. That’s what I fucking love about you—you can never get enough, can you?” He almost sounds dazed, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your hip. “Drive me fucking crazy.”

You instantly feel the weight of a thousand suns drop right in the center of your stomach—not from pleasure at all, but from the sheer audacity of that word coming out of his mouth. 

No. Absolutely fucking not.

You don’t give yourself time to think through the haze or even let it settle. Before he can even process what just came out of his own mouth, you fist your hand in his hair and yank him down, and he grunts in surprise as you drag him down and crash your lips into his messily. You suck on his lower lip until he groans, then you shove your tongue into his mouth furiously, like you’re reminding him exactly what this is and what it isn’t. His fingers keep pumping in and out of you, and his thumb drops back to your clit and starts working slow, cruel circles that make you twitch again and again. You dig your nails into his shoulders and then down his neck, scratching hard enough that he hisses into your mouth and bites down on your lip in warning. 

“Faster, Sunghoon—fuck, you’re so good, fuck, don’t stop, you’re perfect—fuck you, fuck—”

You scratch harder and drag your nails down his neck like you want to carve your entire being into him. You grind down onto his hand shamelessly and keep chasing that pressure inside you, and then his thumb presses harder onto your clit. Just enough.

You shatter.

He dips his head and kisses you again, swallowing every broken moan as you come for him a second time, harder than before. Your body seizes up so violently you nearly drag him down with you, and Sunghoon doesn’t even say a word—just grunts into your mouth while his fingers pump you through every aftershock and every shudder. He presses his free hand flat against your stomach, holding you steady as your muscles spasm and twitch under his palm, hips jerking helplessly into his grip like you’re not even in control of your own body anymore. Your forehead drops to his shoulder, and your body is still pulsing around his hand while he continues to finger your overstimulated cunt, and the only thing tethering you to the earth is the vice grip you have on him and the filthy sound of his groans in your ear.

“God, what the fuck are you doing to me—” you whine shakily. “Fuck.”

Sunghoon pulls his fingers out from you, and you don’t even waste a second, even through all your panting and shaking. You grab his wrist, bring his hand straight to your mouth, and suck his fingers in deep without breaking eye contact. You curl your tongue and taste yourself, then you moan around the thickness of his fingers just to fuck with him.

He bites his lip and stares at you like he wants to eat you alive. “My fucking girl,” he rasps when you bite down lightly on the pad of his index finger. “So fucking filthy.”

You ignore the way your heart skips a beat at what he says and pull his fingers from your mouth with a soft, wet pop, and before he can breathe, you’ve got him by the tie, yanking him down to devour his mouth again in an open-mouthed, desperate, filthy kiss. Your tongue traces the taste of yourself off his lips, and his mouth is hot and demanding as he kisses you back like he wants to fuck the air out of your lungs. Your hands fumble with his belt frantically with trembling fingers until you get it open, and his cock is already so fucking hard you swear you can feel it throb before you even wrap your hand around it. Fuck… you also don’t think you’ve ever seen him this hard and heavy, which is crazy because you’re pretty sure this thought occurs every single time you see him bare for you. 

You drag your hand along his length with the slowest, meanest rhythm you can muster, and the moment you pull back from the kiss and fix your gaze on him, a hunger to devour him whole washes over you so fast it makes you dizzy. Sunghoon’s pretty pink lips are parted and his head is tipped back, and a raw, guttural sound claws its way out of his chest, and it’s so fucking gorgeous you want to bottle it and wear it like perfume. You take your time with him and draw your fist up slowly from the thick, heavy root of his cock all the way to his flushed, leaking tip that’s dripping with need and slicking your thumb as you circle it in a lazy spiral. 

You pause at the crown, giving it an extra squeeze, thumb flicking over the slit until he jerks in your grip, so sensitive you genuinely almost feel bad for him. “Fuck—you’re really this needy?” you murmur, voice taunting and cruel as you watch another bead of precum well up and smear across your knuckles. “All pent up for me, poor thing.”

He shudders, breath hissing out between his teeth as you start setting a pace. “F-fuck. You little—Fuck—”

You smile lazily and lean in to lick a filthy, wet stripe right up his Adam’s apple, slow enough to feel him swallow around it. “Hmmm? Does that feel good?”

You don’t even get to enjoy it a second longer because his hand snaps around your wrist, and he looks down at you with dark, blown-out eyes and a crooked, dangerous smirk. Oh, fuck off. He’s doing it again. “I want to fuck you.”

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Well, he’s certainly never said that before. The words punch straight through you like electricity, and they go all the way from your heart right down to your cunt, and your whole body seizes up and everything goes light and fuzzy at once as if your bones have been dissolved and every single nerve ending is sparkling with desire. He really should not have this fucking grip over you. Dear God.

“You do this every single time,” you manage, though your heart is shaking with need. “Trust me, I wouldn’t waste your time.” You purr, and then you hum and try anyway—ducking your head down instinctively as your hunger takes over—but he catches your face in his hand and presses his thumb into your cheeks until you’re forced to look up at him. 

“Uh-uh, not when you look like this,” he says quietly. “I’m not letting you get away with shit tonight.” His forehead drops to yours. “Not your mouth, not your hands, not a single fucking inch unless it’s your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock right now.”

Before you can answer, he drags you up for another kiss with his hand cupping the back of your head. He tastes like everything you want and shouldn’t have, and you can feel his cock pulsing in your fist as he grinds into your hand like he’s literally seconds away from losing his mind, and honestly, you might be too. Maybe you’ve lost it. 

And then—CLICK.

Someone tries the handle, and a muffled voice calls out from the other side of the door, “Hello?!”

The door rattles again, and another muffled voice comes on the other side, and your eyes fly wide open, and reality hits you like an absolute truck as logic, panic, and self-preservation all come flooding in at once. “Wait—Fuck, Sunghoon, what time is it—? Oh my god—How long have we—”

But he shuts you up by kissing you even harder and not letting you get a single inch away. The way his hand slides between your thighs again is so tremendously possessive and unhesitant—like he’d ruin you right here no matter who’s listening, who’s knocking, or whether you’re both about to be on the six o’clock news. He kisses down from your mouth to your jaw, then down the curve of your neck, and every word is spoken hot and breathlessly into your skin between the pulse points he licks and kisses. 

“To hell with it,” he mutters as he drags his lips over your throat. “There are other bathrooms.”

You try—you actually try—to claw your way back to logic and be the voice of reason for once, if only so you can look back and say you made an effort. “You’re supposed to—fuck—Sunghoon. Wait, you asshole—supposed to maintain appearances—”

He cuts you off with another bruising kiss, and it’s the kind that steals the thought right out of your head, and his hand slides up to palm your ass so he can drag you forward until your legs fall open for him. You instinctively arch into his touch because, honestly, what other option is there? The sound of the door rattling again and the distant panic of whoever is outside is nothing compared to the way his body slots against yours like it was designed this way or the way his mouth moves on your skin like he’s marking territory. And maybe you should care. Maybe you should panic, but you really just don’t. If anything, it makes it feel ten times hotter, and it feels like your clit might just catch flight and detach from how hard it’s buzzing. 

“Stop fuckin’ whining. There is not a single goddamn soul outside that door that I give a shit about right now,” he says with his mouth grazing your neck, then he licks a line up your throat, and you feel your knees threaten to give. “Nothing’s dragging me out of here until I’ve had you. I don’t care—” kiss “—if the whole fucking board tries to open that door. All I care about is you—” kiss, “—and the way you’re about to take every inch I give you.” 

You stare at him, and you think you’ve genuinely never ever been more turned on in your entire life. “You’re actually obsessed with me.”

“Yeah?” Sunghoon licks his lips and grins lazily. “You’re the one spread out on this counter for me, so what does that make you?” 

You don’t get to answer. Or maybe you do, just not with words, because the second his mouth crashes back onto yours, your body betrays you so completely it would be infuriating if you weren’t so damn turned on right now. He crushes his mouth back onto yours and slides his tongue in so hot and filthy that your knees actually threaten to give out. Your back slams into the mirror, and the sound that spills out of you and into his mouth is straight-up pornographic and embarrassingly loud. 

“Fuck,” he rasps like it actually hurts him. “We’re only kissing, and you already sound like I’m balls deep in you.”

He drags one hand up to squeeze your breast hard, and he digs his fingers in like he’s staking a claim, and you nearly sob from it. Then you whine even louder when he bites your lower lip and tugs on it while holding eye contact, all dignity lost to the sound of your own need.  “There,” He groans as his fingers pinch your nipples through the fabric, hard enough that you arch up for more. “That sound. You always make that sound for me. You like it when I kiss you? You fucking love it, don’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you gasp, but it comes out weak when he kisses you again and swallows the words whole. “I hate you so fucking much,” you try, but your mouth is too full of him for it to matter. “I thought you didn’t want me making any sounds, huh? What happened to being quiet?”

“I don’t want anyone else to hear you,” he says, like he doesn’t even know he’s saying it—dragging his mouth along your jaw until you shudder. “But maybe I’ll let them hear just enough—so they know you only ever sound like this for me.”

You shove him off before his head gets any bigger.

Just enough to break the kiss and buy yourself a single, agonizing lick of space. His heavy-lidded eyes glint like he’s about to grab you again, but you reach down and drag the top of your strapless dress lower (painfully slowly) until the corset dips and your breasts spill free, heavy and bare and flushed from how worked up you are. Nothing in the way except all that anticipation and a little bit of wicked pride. You do it just to watch the way his face changes.

And it’s beautiful. There’s no other word to describe the way his mouth falls open in a silent, almost reverent curse, like he’s seeing you for the first time and the thousandth all over again every single time. Every single cell in his body is locked onto the swell of your breasts, and his face is carved into pure, aching hunger—the kind that looks like he’d crawl through hell on his hands and knees just to get his mouth on you. He bites down on his bottom lip so hard you half expect to see blood, and for a second, you think he might actually just come in his pants just from you baring yourself for him.

“Oh, fuck me,” He groans, and then he’s on you in half a second and his hands are coming up to cup the weight of them, squeezing them hard, rolling his thumbs over your nipples as he leans down and takes one into his mouth. You arch into his mouth shamelessly—almost laughing at how fucking obscene you both are. “Fuck, these tits. You know how many times I’ve thought about fucking you just like this?”

You press your chest up into his mouth and gasp when his tongue flicks over your nipple and his fingers squeeze around the soft weight of you. For a moment, you let yourself just bask in how completely ruined he looks. Park Sunghoon, usually so composed, is now devouring you like a starved man.

You bring your own hands up and brush your thumbs over your nipples as you force him to watch. His eyes drag over you, dark with desire. “Yeah?” you taunt, twisting your own nipple between two fingers. “What exactly did you think about, Sunghoon?” You purr and guide his chin up with your pointer finger, making him look at you. “Or are you too busy drooling to answer?”

He laughs low in his throat and pinches your nipple hard between his fingers until you gasp. “You really wanna know, princess?” When you nod, he brings his mouth right up to your ear as his hands knead your breasts. “I’ve thought about pinning you down and fucking you with your tits squeezed tight around my cock.” He groans and drops his head, then he sinks his sharp teeth into the curve of your breast in a burning bite that makes you moan with your back arching off the counter and your chest pushing shamelessly into his mouth as the mark blooms under his lips. “Every time I see you in one of these dresses, I think about covering them in my cum until you’re a mess. Then I’d make you lick it off your own skin while you look up at me like the needy little slut you are.”

You squeeze your thighs together. Honestly, this might be the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life, and you’re two seconds away from letting him do whatever he wants right here—

For fuck’s sake.

What are you even doing, letting him play with you like this? Some small, rational corner of your brain is shrieking at you to hurry up before someone kicks the door down and you end up on the front page of the news, but the rest of you? The rest of you is hopelessly, stupidly drunk on him and the way his mouth is wide open around your nipple, sucking like he wants to leave you marked forever.

“Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll let you someday. Just—just fuck me and get it over with. God, you’re so slow,” you gasp, letting your head fall back against the mirror as he squeezes your tits together and licks a stripe up from your breast to your jaw. “Fuck—Are you planning on taking all night or—?”

The asshole laughs, latches his mouth right back on your nipple, and swirls his tongue around it slowly, and then he lets go just long enough to let the cool air hit your wet skin. The look in his eyes is pure filth as he drags his teeth across your breast before he looks at you. 

“You really still don’t get it, do you?” he growls, squeezing your breasts rough enough to make you whine. “I don’t give a single fuck about time. You’ll take whatever I give you as slow as I want.” His tongue laps another wet stripe over your breast, then he bites down again hard enough to make your hips buck. “And next time you whine about how slow I am, I’ll keep you locked in this fucking bathroom all night. I’ll fuck you on every surface. We’ll see if you’re still a brat when you’re stumbling out to breakfast with my cum leaking down your thighs and everyone wondering why you can barely walk.”

Oh, you’re so fucking doomed.

But if there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s swallow your massive pride when it gets you what you want (especially when you want it this badly.) So yeah, screw this. You're not above a little begging, and besides, it’s not like you don’t absolutely eat up the way his eyes go pitch-black and starving whenever you whine his name in that desperate, wrecked tone you know drives him mad. 

So you lace your fingers in his hair and drop your voice into that sweet, spoiled cadence despite how every part of you wants to take him up on what he just said. “I wanna feel you deep inside me. Come on. I’ll be so good.”

He kisses you so hard you feel it all the way down your spine, and his mouth is rough and angry as his hand fists in your hair to yank your head back. “Say it again,” he growls against your lips. “Say my name. Say it so I know you mean it.”

You roll your eyes just to piss him off, but your body betrays you with the way you squirm against him and reach for his cock to stroke him just once. “I want you to fuck me, Park Sunghoon. Want you so bad I could scream. Is that pretty enough for you? Or do you want it in writing, since you’re stupid?”

“You’re gonna eat those words, brat.” He huffs and suddenly he’s gripping your waist and hoisting you up like you weigh nothing, and then he spins you around so you’re facing the mirror and the image staring back at you is obscene: you, flushed and wild-eyed with your lipstick smudged, tits fully bare and heaving, with Sunghoon pressed up behind you with his shirt wrinkled and his tie loosened, so much taller, so much broader, his face smeared with your lipstick and his hands already roaming over every inch of exposed skin and your lipstick all over his face. He bunches up your dress around your waist and shoves your panties halfway down your thighs, all while spreading your legs wide with a hand rough enough to bruise. 

“Eyes on the mirror,” He lines up behind you and lets the heaviness of his fat tip press right up against your entrance, so big you almost sob from just the anticipation as his fingers dig into the softness of your thighs and ass, forcing you open even wider and more helpless in front of the glass. “You wanna act like a slut, you’re gonna watch yourself be one. Don’t even think about looking away. You don’t even blink unless I say so.”

And then he pushes in. He starts so slowly and it still nearly kills you, stretching you out inch by inch as your grip tightens on the sink and you bite your lip to keep from moaning too loud (though you fail terribly.) “Arch for me,” he growls and flattens his palm hard over your lower back, forcing your spine to curve and pushing your ass back into him until you feel every goddamn inch. It hurts—not in a way you want to stop but in a way that makes your brain immediately fade into static and your body greedily arch back for more even as your muscles struggle to take all of him. 

“F-fuck—oh my god—Fucking hell, Sunghoon—‘s too much—”

“I said eyes up.” His other hand comes down to cup your jaw and force your gaze up until you’re staring straight into your own eyes in the glass as your body trembles with how full you feel. You watch the way his Adam’s apple strains in the mirror as he groans and tips his head back out of pleasure and flutters his eyes shut for a second before they snap back open, dark and wild and locked on you in the glass. “God, you’re so fucking wet—the tightest fucking pussy ever,” he pants and pushes in even deeper, and you really can’t help the way you squeeze your eyes shut at the overwhelming sensation of being stretched open to the point where it borders on too much, toes curling and legs trembling as he splits you open inch by aching inch. Your body’s not sure if it’s pain or pleasure; all you know is you can feel him everywhere. You’re clenching around him so hard you nearly push him out, and Sunghoon’s grip just gets meaner as his fingers dig into your jaw to yank your face back up. 

“Open your fucking eyes,” he bites out meanly, but there’s something almost tender in the way he stills with his cock nearly buried to the hilt, waiting for you and searching your face in the mirror. “Look at me—You want me to stop? Talk to me.”

“No, don’t stop, just—fuck—” you gasp and push back against him to feel every thick inch of him stretching you open and filling you up even more. “Need it. Need all of you. Don’t you fucking dare stop—no one’s ever been this deep. I want you to make it hurt—need you to fuck me stupid—”

“Listen to you. Such a needy fucking whore. Bet you can feel me all the way in your stomach, huh?” he rasps and snaps his hips even harder just to hear you cry out again. “Pretty fucking pussy stretched around me—fuck, you’re so fucking tiny and barely taking me, but you’re squeezing me like you’re trying to keep me inside forever.” His hand is still on your jaw, forcing you to keep your gaze locked on the mirror, making you watch the way your mouth falls open, the way your eyes roll back, and the way your breasts bounce as he starts to push deeper. “Yeah, keep your eyes open. I want you to see exactly how stupid you look. Look at your face, look at your mouth—fuck, look at those pretty tits bouncing for me. That’s it—good little slut.” 

You moan his name even louder this time, and it’s so pornographic you almost don’t recognize the sound as your own. “Fuck, you’re so loud tonight.” Sunghoon pants behind you, and the sound of your bodies meeting echoes obscenely in the bathroom, filthier than anything you’ve ever imagined. “You really do want everyone to hear, huh? Want them all to know who’s got you bent over and drooling?”

You just… can’t even answer. But he doesn’t give you the chance anyway. He shoves two thick fingers right into your mouth. “Open wider,” he commands, and you do, sucking him in so obediently and whining around them as you taste yourself on his skin, and the metal of his rings as he pushes them even deeper. He tips your head back until your hair falls over his shoulder and your neck is against him, and then his mouth is on your throat, trailing kisses as if he’s tracing the path of the ones he left there before. His thick cock pounds into you, and you feel every ridge, every pulse, and every sharp drag against your swollen walls. Sunghoon’s breath is hot against your neck as he fucks you harder and faster, rutting into you so furiously like he wants to leave bruises on your insides. 

Your body tightens without warning, and you feel that sharp edge climbing up where pleasure tips into something feral and uncontrollable. “Sunghoon. Fuck ‘M gonna come, holy shit—don’t stop. Go faster—harder.” You can barely even hold yourself up as his thrusts start turning even more brutal and relentless. You look at Sunghoon, and you see the way his nose is scrunched with his brows pulling together hard in concentration, his mouth falling open on a rough, broken groan as he fucks into you faster. His hips snap forward in short, brutal thrusts, every one knocking the breath clean out of you and making your body tighten so hard around him that he moans and throws his head back for a moment.

Then his hand slides up your throat, and he curls his fingers tight enough to steal the air right out of your lungs and pin you exactly where he wants you, forcing your chin up when your eyes try to flutter shut. “You—shiiit—really don’t fuckin’ listen, do you? Don’t look away.” You hold his gaze in the mirror, and he squeezes your throat slightly. “You like this?” His grip tightens and stars spark at the edges of your vision as he presses his thumb in ever so harder. “You like it when I choke you out like this?”

You nod frantically as your lips part around another obscene moan, and that’s what does it for him. His grip tightens for one deliciously brutal second more, and then he releases you right on the edge. You gasp and shudder and cling to him with your chest heaving, and he holds you up while softly sliding his palm down your neck and caressing your throat with his thumb.  “Fuuuck—shit, you feel insane—Shit, you’re so fucking tight. So warm. You’re clenching so hard I can barely move.” Each syllable is punched into you with a bruising snap of his hips. Then he pulls almost all the way out again, cock dragging along your walls, leaving you empty and aching, before driving all his thick throbbing inches back inside in one brutal thrust. “I’m fuck—I’m getting close—shit—Keep your eyes on me. Good girl. Juuuuust like that. Don’t hold back your pretty noises.”

Sunghoon’s name rips out of your throat like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known how to say as your orgasm crashes over you so hard you almost black out. The only thing anchoring you to reality is the grip of his hands—one bruising your hips, the other tight around your throat—while you convulse and twitch, forced to keep your eyes on the mess you are in the mirror. It’s obscene, it’s raw, and it’s everything you said you’d never let happen again. But there has never been a single thing in your life that’s ever felt as right—or as wrong—as being fucked senseless in the women’s bathroom at this stupid fucking annual party or whatever as your body clamps down around him, fluttering and squeezing so tight it makes him lose his rhythm and curse under his breath.

“So fucking perfect. You know who you belong to now, don’t you? This tight little pussy is mine, you hear me? Tell me who owns you.”

Even now, all breathless and twitching, you bare your teeth in the mirror and glare at his reflection. “Fuck you. M’not telling you shit.”

Sunghoon’s mouth twists. “You wanna play that game right now?” 

His hand snaps away from your throat, and before you can even catch your breath, he pulls out of you with a rough curse, leaving you gaping and empty. You try to move, but he grabs your wrists and pins them behind you, and he rips his tie loose from his collar with one hand. You barely even have a second to struggle before he’s wrapping it around your wrists and tying it so tight your pulse jumps against the silk. You whine and attempt to mouth off, but he manhandles you and holds you steady with one big hand pressing into the small of your back to keep you balanced. He drags you back onto his cock with no patience, just brute force, fucking you even deeper with your wrists tied behind your back. You’re so dizzy and wrecked and fucked out that the part of you that should be arguing (just for the hell of it) barely even gets alerted. If anything, your brain offers up a traitorous thought that this is… hot. Does he really think this is some sort of punishment? He yanks it tighter on your wrist, and all you can do is arch back further into him as he shoves you deeper onto his cock, every inch dragging a broken moan out of you every time he thrusts. 

“Look at you, not even fighting it. Can’t even pretend you don’t like being tied up and used like a little toy. Fuck, you’re so loud—Yeah. Moan for me. Shit—Sluts like you need to be kept on a leash.” He thrusts again, harder, deeper, like he’s trying to push himself into places that don’t exist, and you feel it pressing in everywhere, in your spine, in your ribs, and in your soul. And then he just buries himself inside you to the hilt and goes perfectly still. He grabs your face in his big, rough hand and tilts your head right into himself, and his thumb presses into your cheek as he leans in. “Now be a good girl and tell me where you want me,” he pants, and his voice is so wrecked and raspy it almost makes you come. “You want to walk out of here stuffed full of my cum and leaking down your thighs, or should I paint your pretty tits and make you lick it off in the mirror like the messy little whore you are?”

You bite your lip, still defiant, and still very much cock-drunk—but the thought of him filling you up again has your knees buckling and your cunt clenching down around him, desperate for every drop he can give you. “I’m on the pill.”

And that’s all he needs to hear. Sunghoon groans, and his hand comes down hard against your ass and the sting shoots straight through you. “Knew you’d want it—knew you couldn’t go a single night without me filling you up. Fuck—” He yanks you back with the tie even harder until your chest bows out. “You want me to breed you like this—You wanna walk back out there with everyone watching you, smiling like nothing’s wrong, while you’re dripping down your thighs and all you can think about is me inside you—my cum, my fucking cock—”

“Ah—you talk so much,” you pant, tossing your head back against his shoulder. “I want it. I want all of it. Wanna feel you leaking out of me every time I walk. Fill me up.”

He twists you suddenly and wraps one arm around your waist to lift you clean off your feet and slam you back against the wall. The tile is cold, but your gasp is swallowed instantly as he crashes his mouth back into yours. It feels like forever since he last kissed you, and it’s so frantic that it feels like neither of you can afford to waste a second not kissing. He hikes your thighs up, grips under your ass, and starts fucking into you while standing, and every single thrust knocks a broken moan out of both of you. His hips snap faster, and his nose scrunches as he loses himself completely, groaning your name like it’s torn out of him. “Fuck—Sunghoon—” you moan in response, locking your legs tight around his waist like you want to fuse your bodies together until you’re one.

He moans into your mouth and bites down on your bottom lip, spit trailing between your lips. “Gonna breed you right here, baby. You ready for me? You’re gonna take every drop—bet you’d let me fuck you in every room of this fucking building. Fill you in each time till you’re just full of me and nothing else.”

“Want it,” you gasp, dizzy and delirious and not entirely sure of what you’re even saying anymore, “Need you to come inside me. Make me yours.”

“You’re already mine,” he growls as his breath comes in short, hungry gasps, getting sloppier and sloppier with every thrust as he chases his own high. “Mine to fuck, mine to fill, mine to break. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

If you had half a mind to care about anything else, like the rattling doorknob or the muffled voices outside or maybe even the shit that’s coming out of his mouth right now, you’d tell him to eat shit and die, or you’d just definitely say something smart, but all you care about is that perfect, ecstatic, devastating rush of pleasure building up once again as you feel the thick head of his cock press into you even harder from this angle, the way your name sounds falling from his lips, and the fact that you’ve never felt so fucking alive in your life as Sunghoon fucks you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters, grunting, moaning, and burying his face in your neck as he finally loses it and spills his load deep, deep, deep inside you. He holds you pressed to the wall until the shaking subsides as his lips drag lazy, ruined kisses over your jaw. His hands don’t leave you—not even when he finally pulls his cock free with a slick, obscene sound that makes your cheeks burn. 

He doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he slides his hand up to untie the tie from your wrists, fingers working clumsily as he continues to slightly tremble and pant from how hard he just came. The second you’re free, Sunghoon holds you and steadies you by kissing you like he could swallow you whole. He’s flushed and pink, and sweat is dripping down his temple, with his hair sticking to his forehead. You lean in and lick a hot stripe up his cheek, tasting salt and heat, dragging your tongue over the sweat at his hairline just to hear him whine, eyes fluttering, so sensitive he shivers. “God, you’re so fucking hot like this, I could eat you,” you murmur deliriously against his skin and press a kiss to his nose, “Can feel you dripping out of me. Want to take care of it and make sure it stays in?”

Sunghoon grunts a curse and pushes your back flush against the cold wall again, and then he drops to his knees right there on the bathroom floor without another word, like he’s worshipping at the altar of your ruin. Then his hands are spreading you open, thumbs digging into your thighs as he stares at the mess dripping out of you, his cum spilling slowly and stickily down your legs. Sunghoon’s eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, wild, and utterly fixated as he licks his lips and groans low in his throat. “So good—so fucking perfect—I can’t believe how fucking pretty you look right now.”

He slides two thick fingers into you and gathers up every drop of his cum spilling out of you, and he pushes it back in deep, fucking it up into you with a slow, relentless twist that makes you whine and claw at the tiles. “Don’t waste a fucking drop,” he murmurs, and then he brings his face right to your cunt, sharp nose pressing just where you’re the most sensitive as he leans in to mouth at your swollen cunt, sucking at the slick mess and grunting as his tongue swirls on the taste of both of you. “So much—fuck—I’m going to have you like this every night until you can’t even walk, until all you know is my dick, my cum, my name, just me.”

You shudder and reach for him to tug his hair, arching your back to offer more into his mouth, eyes rolling back as his tongue and fingers work in tandem, licking and sucking, nose pressing hard into your clit until you’re mewling for him. 

You have this stupid, floaty thought right at the edge of your brain, which is unhelpful and very much not the time for it, about how the last man you were with couldn’t even stand the sight of his own cum after. And now here you are grinding into Park fucking Sunghoon’s mouth as he eats his own cum right out of your pussy and moans into it like he’s being blessed by the heavens.

“Sunghoon—oh, fuck—Fuck—Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with you, you fucking freak?” 

It honestly isn’t the filth that has you falling apart—but it’s the way he looks up at you through his lashes while he does it. His eyes are filled with a kind of tenderness that shouldn’t exist in a moment like this, but that thought floats away as quickly as it appears when he gathers the slick on his fingers and pushes them back into your sensitive, fluttering entrance again—one finger, then two, and then he sinks a third in with no warning.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he breathes, glancing up through his lashes, smug and gentle all at once. “Just know what I want—Look at that. Stretched you out so good you’re taking three fingers with such ease now. I could play with this pretty pussy all fucking night.”

You reach down and tug on his hair hard to drag him up to look at you. “Y-Yeah?” you breathe, barely holding yourself together. “Tell me I’m replaceable now, Sunghoon. Fuck—look me in the eyes and s-say it again.”

He blinks up at you, and his brows knit together for a moment. Then he gives you a disgustingly dangerous half-smile and your heart stutters, because you’ve only ever seen him look like this when he’s drunk out of his mind. “Can’t. I can’t,” he slurs. “No one—fuck—nobody tastes like you. I hate it. I fuckin’... hate you.”

You stare down at him, and for a second, your brain just blanks at how he just folded for you, babbling like it’s your fault his self-control dissolved somewhere between your thighs. And you—God, you’re not even mad, are you? No, you’re practically glowing and melting right onto his stupid, perfect face. Part of you definitely wants to gloat and say some nasty, mean shit, but your brain is too fried, and your pride is too busy soaking up the way he’s falling apart at your feet. All you can do is clutch his hair and roll your hips into his face. You moan so loud you’re sure the whole building can hear it, but you truly don’t care when his mouth on your pussy feels better than sin and better than forgiveness and better than anything you’ve ever known. 

You come again with his name caught and breaking in the back of your throat, knees giving out so hard you have to grab onto him just to stay standing as pleasure rolls through you in hot, blinding waves. Sunghoon stays exactly where he is—holding you together while you shake and gasp and come apart.

“Spread your legs wider. I want to see how much more you can take.”

And god help you; you already know the answer.

Somehow, against all odds and most laws of god and man, you manage to pull yourselves off each other and look vaguely human again to re-enter civilization after having just broken every single promise you’ve ever made to yourself and to poor, long-suffering Wonyoung. Oh God. Let’s not think of Wonyoung right now.

You look in the mirror one last time before you turn to leave, and you somehow (kind of) look like a functioning, perfectly respectable human being and not like a girl who just got fucked to hell and back by the devil in Prada for God knows how long. Also, by some absolute miracle—or maybe just Sunghoon’s freakish self-control—there’s not a single incriminating mark on your neck. Nada. Which is crazy considering he’s always tearing into you like a feral dog. Sunghoon’s neck, on the other hand, is sporting a suspicious flush, and there are definitely like three hickeys half-hidden by his collar if you look too closely. (Oops.) But despite that, he somehow looks even more put together than when he went in, which is absolutely fucking infuriating—downright offensive, honestly.

But whatever. The horror and shame of anticipating the looks you’re about to get when you re-enter that ballroom is so much louder than any petty anger at the fact that Park Sunghoon is apparently immune to looking like a mess. Besides, it’s also hard to keep track of anything when you’ve just spent the last five minutes bickering like lunatics while both of you were still half-breathless and trying not to strangle each other over who should walk out first and what to say and what not to say.

So the two of you do the walk of shame with the kind of composure only the truly deranged can manage: steps perfectly in sync, faces perfectly blank, and not looking at each other once. You think—just maybe—you’ll actually make it. Just slip right back into the crowd, pretend you were powdering your nose for an ungodly amount of time, and no one will ever know—

“ARE YOU—NO. Are you KIDDING ME?!” 

Oh, dear sweet baby Jesus. Here we go. 

Heeseung practically yells (startling the living shit out of the two of you), stumbling back into the opposite wall with his eyes blown wide with pure, biblical horror. You barely have time to blink before his finger is flying back and forth between you, Sunghoon, and the now-infamous bathroom door. 

“Hee—?” you start, but you know it’s too late. You can practically see the gears in his head breaking down one by one in his head.

“Don’t Hee me,” Heeseung’s eyes flick to the poorly hidden lipstick stains on Sunghoon’s collar (your handiwork) and your slightly failed attempt at powdering up your smudged mascara (Sunghoon’s handiwork). “Oh my god—At first I thought—No, I prayed—I was literally texting Jay. He was like, ‘Heeseung, there’s only one Sunghoon out there, man, accept it,’ and I said, ‘Noooooo, our Sunghoon? Bro he’s not capable. He drinks tea with his pinky out.’ But then—I don’t know, man, I started thinking about it… And I was like damn, it checks out. But thinking it and hearing it and now seeing it are three very, VERY different things.” 

“You told Jay?!” you wince.

Heeseung looks at you like he’s offended you’d even ask that, and then he ignores you and gestures wildly at Sunghoon again (who is seemingly too stunned to speak right now.) 

“Guys. Mannnnnn. In the women’s bathroom? At your family’s event? THAT LOUD?! Ohhhhh. I want to be dead,” Heeseung adds sincerely. “Lord, I’m ready to come up.”

Honestly? Same. Except you’re pretty sure whatever direction you’re headed, it’s definitely not up.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, covering your face with both hands as the absolute terror of how loud you actually were comes crashing down on you. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Meanwhile, next to you, Sunghoon looks as if he’s been hit by a truck, but in classic Park Sunghoon fashion, he is valiantly remaining composed. Though you can tell that he’s clinging to whatever’s left of his sanity by a single, rapidly fraying thread as his eyebrow twitches. 

“Hyung, you’re being a bit too dramatic,” Sunghoon says calmly. “You’re just… drunk. Let’s go sit down, yeah?”

“You think I have enough alcohol in my system for this?” Heeseung’s eyes bulge even wider, and you wonder how that’s even possible. “Y/N, how—how am I supposed to look your mom in the eye again? She literally chased me down—twice—asking if I’d seen you. I started avoiding the ballroom after, like, forty minutes because I was sweating so much I thought I’d leave a trail behind me. I mean, do you two just—feel nothing? No shame? Is nothing sacred? Is sex just—not SACRED anymore? Is that it?!” He fans himself dramatically. “I’m sweating again. I need to change my name and go to Bali and become a man who sells bracelets on a beach. Or maybe I’ll become a nun. Yeah. Nun sounds good. Do they take boys? Wait, do not answer that—I cannot handle a hypothetical rejection right now, I am far too emotionally fragile, and frankly, I don’t want to know. In fact, I don’t want to know anything anymore.

“We should’ve left separately,” you hiss to Sunghoon and smack him hard in the arm as Heeseung continues to speak in tongues. “I told you—didn’t I fucking tell you? Look at what you’ve done. You broke Heeseung. Like, actually broke him. Are you proud of yourself?”

Sunghoon barely blinks. “How the hell is this my fault?” His voice is maddeningly calm and borderline amused, which only makes you want to set him on fire.

“Because! Because you—with your freakish stamina and your deranged control issues and—” you gesture furiously at him up and down, “—your stupid, evil cum kink—”

Heeseung stops mumbling and makes a choked sound like a dying bird, and Sunghoon’s nostrils flare as he looks at you. “You wanna try saying that a little louder, sweetheart? I don’t think the pastry chef in the next building heard you.” He huffs, “And I fucking said let’s wait five minutes. What did you say?” He lifts a finger in the air and drops his voice into a perfect mockery of yours: “‘Noooo, nobody’s out there—it’s already late enough, you fine, handsome man, oh, you absolute sex god, Sunghoon, please—’”

You smack him even harder this time. “I did NOT say that last fucking part—!” 

“WELL, CLEARLY SOMEONE WAS OUT THERE! Hello! I’m still here!” Heeseung points between you two, making a sound that can only be described as the death rattle of a man who saw Satan and lived to tell the tale. “Just stop. No more talking from you two. Stop saying things. No more. There are children here, you filthy sex goblins—”

“There are literally no children at this thing—”

“I’M the child now!” Heeseung plants a palm to his chest and flashes you his big, desperate, drunken Bambi eyes. “I have regressed. I need my mommy.”

“Oh my God. Can we not do this in the hallway?” You ultimately give up and groan, stepping closer to pat Heeseung on the arm in some sort of comforting way. “Come on, Hee. Deep breaths. Let’s get you some water, okay? And then, I’ll have to kill you so you can’t tell anyone about this. No hard feelings.”

“Oh, good,” he nods dramatically and gives you a thumbs up. “Make it quick. I’d rather die than live in a world where I got front row auditory tickets to the Park Sunghoon Breeding Kink Extended Director’s Cut.”

Sunghoon exhales through his nose. “Heeseung, seriously, stop fucking talking—”

“Don’t talk to me right now, Sir Breedalot.” Heeseung yelps and scoots closer to you and physically hides behind your shoulder, clutching the back of your arm like a human shield as he presses his forehead into your neck.

Sunghoon’s eyes widen comically in absolute disbelief at the nickname, and his brows raise up so much they’re practically kissing his hairline, but before he can say anything, you nearly choke trying to keep a straight face—and the laugh escapes anyway—a sharp, traitorous snort you try to disguise as a cough again, which only makes it worse.

Sunghoon slowly turns to you with murder in his eyes. “Don’t,” he says flatly. “Fucking laugh.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Shut the fuck up.”

Heeseung, unfortunately, has momentum now. And once Heeseung gets momentum, God himself couldn’t stop him. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. My brother,” He pulls you closer and squeezes your arm, “Not the guy who desecrates public property with my pseudo-little-sister. Not the guy who talks during it. You talk so much. So. Much. Oh my god.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenches. “Were you fucking list—You know, you didn’t have to stand there, you freak.”

“Don’t give me that look! You know that the bathroom is right next to the fucking lounge I escape to! And for the record, I left,” Heeseung says, backing away when you also turn to glare at him. “Oh, I left. I’m not a monster. But… then I came back because… because? Bro, do you even know how long you were in there for? I thought it was a medical emergency, Sunghoon. Do you understand? I was worried. I am a good man.”

“I was fine,” Sunghoon huffs.

“YES. I KNOW THAT NOW.” Heeseung shrieks. “Wait—Is this, like, a thing now? Are you two… Is this happening? Like, for real? Because I’ve had my suspicions ever since I caught you in my own fucking living room—thanks for that again, by the way, really lovely. Nice little public sex kink you have going on right now, very cool, very not fun for me. But is this… are you two, like…? Is this a regular thing? Are you—” he lowers his voice, “—fuckbuddies?”

“Yes,” Sunghoon says immediately.

“NO,” you snap at the exact same time.

There’s a beat where all three of you just stare at each other. Then you whip around and slap Sunghoon upside the head so hard his hair flops. “Are you out of your rotten, diseased, childish mind?”

Sunghoon just shrugs like he’s above it all, but his lips are twitching at the corners. You think you might strangle him. “What? It’s the truth. And it’s Heeseung.”

“You know what? Heeseung is gonna go—Heeseung is going anywhere else. I’m gonna go sit down. Or maybe just try to lobotomize myself with a butter knife,” Heeseung groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I genuinely can’t—like, I literally can’t even process what this means for your relationship, you know? No—please, God. Especially having to sit and witness the two of you acting like you’re not hopelessly in love with each other since the dawn of civilization, like some modern-day retelling of Romeo and Juliet except you’re both freaks and meaner and, frankly, more dramatic—”

Your mouth actually falls open. Like. Fully. You stare at him in pure horror and finally find your voice. “Shut up. Oh my God, shut up right now.”

Sunghoon clears his throat loudly beside you and looks very interested in the far wall. “You’re out of your mind,” he mutters, sounding offended. “With her? Please. Don’t make me sick.”

You immediately shove Sunghoon, and he barely even stumbles back. “Oh, fuck you—”

Heeseung pauses and looks between the two of you, then scoffs and throws his hands up. “Oh, I’m the crazy one? Woowwwwww. Okay. Yeah. Let’s all gang up on Heeseung. He’s sooooo handsome and hilarious and whimsical and underappreciated.” He points at you, then at Sunghoon. “You know what? Figure yourselves out. Or don’t. I don’t care. I care a normal amount. Which is not at all because I’m normal.” He turns and starts walking away, then spins back around. “Also, you’re both NASTY. Deeply. Just so we’re clear. AND THAT’S COMING FROM ME!”

And then, still muttering to himself as a deranged man lost at sea, Heeseung disappears around the corner and leaves you and Sunghoon standing there in what is quite possibly the most cursed silence of your entire lives. 

“…Don’t fucking start,” Sunghoon says.

“Oh, I’m absolutely fucking starting,” you say, and then kick him in the shin. “We need to set some ground rules for… whatever this sex thing is.” 

Sunghoon raises a brow. “So you finally admit you want it to keep happening?”

“Don’t give me that smug look of yours,” You scowl. “It’s just sex.”

“Did I say it was anything else?” he fires back with a shrug, then he huffs out a low, humorless laugh and shakes his head. “And I don’t know what this obsession is you have with… rules, but I’m not doing that shit. Not on your terms.”

“Too fucking bad,” you fire back instantly. “I don’t care.” You jab a finger into his chest. “Go get me a pen and paper, unless you want me to carve them into your forehead.”

He stares at you like he’s deciding whether to throttle you or not, then after a moment of silence, he ultimately sighs and rubs his face. “You are so fucking annoying,” he mutters.

You smile sweetly and entirely unrepentant. “And you’re still going to listen to me. Chop chop, pretty boy.”