you were supposed to be reading. but it was hard when jay was sitting on the edge of the bed , tuning his guitar — it felt like he was taunting you , the way his fingers played the chords , tuning it to his liking. and you were just enjoying the show.

“you’re staring.” he suddenly stopped , making eye contact with you , a knowing smirk on his face. he had caught you in the act. “is your book not entertaining enough?” standing up to sit his prized guitar on its stand , making his way back to your shared bed.

“i wasn’t staring , yo-you playing the guitar was distracting me.” you tried to play it off , but your flustered state proved different.

“my guitar?” his eyebrows turned up in amusement , he enjoyed watching you torture yourself instead of just telling him what you want. “or my hands?”

before you could even try to defend yourself , he was tapping two fingers against your lips. “open up pretty.” he watched your lips slowly part , pushing his fingers inside your cavern. “that’s it , good girl.” pushing down on your tongue , you moaned around his digits. “pretty girl satisfied?”

he watched your eyes glaze over as you sucked on his fingers. “let’s try something else , let me make you feel good.” he removed his fingers much to your dismay , climbing on top of you , both his hands wrapping around your bare thighs pulling you down onto your back. “keep your legs open for me.”

he pressed his thumb down on your clothed clit , rubbing harsh circles against your bud. “ja-jay.” he wasted no more time , pulling your panties down your legs , his long fingers sinking into your cunt.

“you get so wet just from my fingers.” curling them against that spot that had your back arching off the bed , moaning his name like a mantra as he fingered you , your pussy dripping down his hands. “making such a mess.”

“jay.” you gasped. “i’m gonna cum.” he smiled sweetly down at you.

“yeah? gonna cum?” he cooed , his thumb rubbing against your clit as he scissored you open. “cum all over my hand , make a mess.”

the pleasure was intense when you came , you didn’t even realize you were squirting , jay cursed as your juices came out of you , his cock twitching in his slacks — he watched you come down from your high , pulling out of you. “taste yourself pretty.”

he pushed his fingers into your mouth , watching you lick and suck at his digits. “fuck you’re so pretty like this.” pulling them from your mouth , unbuckling his pants , freeing his cock.

“want to feel you on my cock.” pushing himself fully inside , you screamed at the sudden fullness. “that’s it baby.” letting his fingers back into your mouth.

“be a good girl and suck while i fuck you.”

AT LONG LAST, THE CURTAINS HAVE DRAWN. what has been the better part of hours stretched across an entire day has felt like nothing but mere seconds to sunghoon. at long last, he can peel his eyes away from the glimpses of sweet heaven before him without risk of missing anything.

for the first time in hours, sunghoon can blink.

initially, it offers no effect; eyes long past dried out like they’ve been baking under a lamp. sunghoon screws them shut, watches colours explode behind his lids until he can feel tears dotting his lashes from the pressure. 

matter of fact, he hasn’t closed his eyes for so long that he could probably fall asleep within seconds, even in the position he’s in: slumped in an uncomfortable wooden chair, sat facing the window of his hotel room as neon lights flicker by. 

for a moment, he considers it. his head throbs with a migraine from how long he’s been forcing his eyes to stay wide open, and there’s no point sitting here now that things have just gotten boring. you’ve just shut him out, like a prude. a tease. suddenly caring after an entire day of paying no mind to your ajar curtains – starting at the ass crack of dawn when you pulled them back to welcome in the sunlight. 

sunghoon accepted that invitation, too.

it’s not like his attention could be anywhere other than the view of your hotel across from his – not until his body physically shuts down from exhaustion in short, pathetic bouts – but he pulled a chair from the sad excuse of a dining table and sat his ass down right in front of his window; where he’s been unmoving, unblinking, as you went about your day since. acting oblivious to the audience you’ve practically begged to flock over to you, just flaunting yourself out there for any old chump to drool over if they were so lucky to look up from the street or out of their window. 

he considered getting toothpicks to keep his eyelids pried open in those instances where his body began to nod off, until he jolted wide awake and freshly energised at the sight of you padding by the window in nothing but a towel. skin glistening, hair damp and running stray beads of water down your shoulders. 

sunghoon ran his tongue over his teeth – oh, how he wished he could lick up every last droplet from your body, suck your hair into his mouth and taste the strawberry shampoo you so famously use. 

your teasing didn’t stop there. you made it a point to keep walking by that window, just throwing yourself at sunghoon as you showed off your new matching lace underwear, then returned in a skimpy pajama set. 

who walks by one window that many fucking times as they’re getting dressed? you have to be doing it on purpose. god, you’re such a damn….flirt. 

he’s not complaining though. of course not! the fleeting sight of you each time, just innocently trotting along by the window, was enough to pull a good few orgasms out of him; even with his aching joints in this stiff fucking chair.

he’s scarcely left his room at all, which is only due to the fact that he’s mirroring you. you’ve been isolating for days on end ever since wrapping up the tour stop in this city. there was a deliberate few days separating this concert from the next one to give you some time to sightsee, make the most of a break here and take a breather from your schedules – yet you’ve done nothing but remain holed up in that hotel room ever since performing for thousands on stage.

it’s like you know it’s ‘cause he’s watching, isn’t it?

sunghoon paid good fucking money for this view. jake thought he was being smart, snagging a room only a few doors down on your floor. thought he could hear you through the walls, maybe coincidentally bump into you each time you leave. except, you haven’t left once – only room service or your staff visiting to deliver food, offer company. jake isn’t getting shit for what he dropped a whole paycheck on, and yet you’re over here prancing around half-naked for sunghoon’s eyes to feast on. 

sunghoon heaves a sigh, stretching his arms out above his head until the joints pop. aches throb in his forearms, the muscles exhausted from when he was jerking off and having back to back orgasms just staring at the view of your empty hotel room. 

it’s been good fun with you, but the time’s come for you to actually leave. tomorrow morning is your flight to the next city. you’ll be forced to go outside – much like sunghoon, as he’s forced to follow you.

he’s been neglecting his own body in favour of catching any sight of yours through the window. the last time he took care of his health was with the sole purpose of attending your concert here. 

he’ll need to present himself as a real person again. take an actual shower and wash his hair. shave the stubble off his face, maybe even tweeze his eyebrows. he wants to look good for you when you see him. because you will – as you have before. 

waving at him in the stands, blowing him a kiss at barricade, smiling at him like an old friend at the send off. each memory more cherished than the last – each instance the red string of fate grows tauter between you. 

of course, the crowd is all thinking the same thing. he’s aware of that, he’s not stupid. 

but they’re not him. they don’t know you like he does. 

can any of your other fans name the brand of perfume you spritzed on after your shower this morning? (gucci flora, naughty girl… you have a brand deal with dior!) can they count the amount of underwear sets you folded into your suitcase? (5, all pastels. you must wash them at each stop.) can any of those pathetic, delusional bottom feeders say with confidence that you opened your curtains to let them in?

yeah. 

he didn’t think so. 

—

sunghoon hates the airport. almost as much as he hates camping outside of the concert venues. everyone here is in a rush and shoving and breathing down each other’s necks. he’s been here since the early morning to secure a nice, clear view when you arrive, but he’s gradually been shoved to third from the front in the crowd that’s gathered. god, some people have no manners these days. whatever happened to fandom etiquette? they’re all here for the same person – you – but it’s like every man for himself. 

“ay, wait,” jake nudges him from the side, tilting his phone to sunghoon. “she’s just about to arrive.”

sunghoon narrows his eyes at the screen, scanning over the text messages before jake shuts it off with a mutter to mind his damn business. but sunghoon already recognised the contact name. it was your make-up artist – he’s bought bits of information off of her in the past. never got his money’s worth though, she’s really vague with promises to reveal more if you spend more. sunghoon doesn’t waste his time with that scam shit. jake being privy to live updates of your location though?

“how do you get so much out of her? she’d never tell me anything good.” sunghoon asks, tone bored as if he’s not seething with jealousy right now. 

jake pokes his tongue out, flashes suggestive eyes while giggling to himself. sunghoon nearly gags. sleeping with your staff while he claims to want you? no fucking shame… 

there’s a roar of commotion at the front, and sunghoon stands on his tip-toes for a clear view as he cranes his neck towards the entrance. someone pushes him from behind, cussing him out for being too fucking tall, but sunghoon can’t hear anything other than ringing in his ears as he recognises all your staff and security filing out through the doors. and then, there you are: just as pretty as when he last saw you through the hotel window.

sunghoon’s momentarily lifted off his feet as the crowd rippled, following after your crew while you wave and bow to all the fans gathered here in your name. sunghoon keeps losing his balance, losing sight of you as he’s pushed from all angles. people get barbaric in your presence. 

some (stupid) few from the front divert, rushing up to your staff and earning a hard shove to the ground by your security. they’re not all that competent though – a taller fan, one sunghoon recalls as riki that he camped with at your osaka concert, is able to shoulder his way through your stylists and grab your arm. he’s wrangled away by security within the next second, but the damage was done – they can actually get to you. so, they try. 

the airport erupts into a frenzy. the mob of fans sprint at your crew, hands gripping and legs stretching to get in between your security, while they struggle to keep the overwhelming number of them at bay. jake pats sunghoon’s arm before he himself sets off, waiting behind the more forward fans and watching for an opening in your guard. 

a thought forms in sunghoon’s head. he takes out the black mask tucked into his pocket and slings it around his ears, then pulls his cap down low, covering his face. he, too, watches for an opening – but he doesn’t make himself a known threat. he stands back, smiles under his mask when a fight breaks out between the fans. idiots. the horde could easily overpower the common enemy of security, if only they weren’t throwing punches at the competition beside themselves. 

sunghoon pivots the instant his chance appears. a split second decision, he’s flying on his feet to his mark – your staff parted and separated just perfectly enough that he flies under the radar when he steps between them, instantly playing the part as he shoves at the other fans he was just standing beside. he recognises someone he traded insider info with for an exclusive signed photocard of you, someone else who gave sunghoon water when he had heatstroke camping outside of your manila venue. 

and then there’s jake. jake’s eyes widen, shouting something that sunghoon can’t quite catch – not when he launched jake at the wall without a second thought after he appeared in front of him. when a security guard glances at sunghoon, hands too full to think to get a good look at him, he just turns his attention to another frenzied fan. sunghoon’s mouth twitches into a grin under the mask. he’s successfully disguised himself in the role as just another terrified staff member. 

holy shit. he’s thought about doing this before, but never once considered it’d even work. he’s on top of the fucking world right now. this was meant to be!

sunghoon acts like he’s giving an appreciative bow to the guard for protecting him, then backs himself further into the crew, body jostling as they all struggle to shuffle forward – fans still pressing relentlessly in from the outside and blocking the way through. 

he wedges his way through your frantic staff until he catches sight of your hair from behind, the heavens from above parting the clouds and casting a halo of light down on you. sunghoon holds his phone up to his ear before he taps your back, and you flinch at the sudden touch, panicked pretty eyes glancing over your shoulder. 

he covers the phone’s speaker – acting as if he’s on a call – before he strains to shout over the commotion: “miss, i’ll lead you out of here! i’ve just called the airport security, they’re coming to help,”

“but where?” you shout back, perfect brows pinched and perfect lips pouted in worry. he notices the way your eyes flit all over what little of his face isn’t concealed, straining to recognise him, remember a name or a position or anything. he’s this close, this familiar with you – how do you know him again? you’re so cute, futilely trying to figure him out. 

“there’s a private lounge down that hall,” sunghoon points, and your glossy eyes follow. “they told us to wait there until this crowd is dispersed. it’s too out of control to stay here.”

you nod, quick to believe but not as quick to trust. you know that you know him, but you still don’t know where you recognise him, and it’s prickling at you. 

sunghoon says some muffled bullshit through his mask into the phone speaker, then pretends to hang up the phone call. he gives you a quick nod of assurance, offering his hand.

you take it and his skin is on fire. 

sunghoon looks around him frantically, acting like he’s trying to speak with any of the guards but they’re too busy to notice him. he sighs theatrically, yelling at the ear of one that he’s taking you to another room. uncaring if the useless fuck even heard, sunghoon’s already pivoting with you in tow – beelining to the private guest’s lounge (looking up the airport’s map last night came in handy), fingers taut around your wrist like a noose. 

you both rush up to the desk receptionist, who instantly recognises you and starts bumbling through her practiced greeting. you’re too frazzled to reply, so sunghoon does the talking – playing further into his little disguise. 

he’s not really acting when he’s too out of breath to say his words properly, just huffing excuses and puffing lies, hoping it forms a believable sentence that a real staff member would say. the noise from the ongoing chaos outside feeds through the automatic glass door, and so the receptionist doesn’t even let sunghoon finish his bullshit before she’s nodding and leading them into the extra private vip room of the already private lounge. 

you step in first, sunghoon on your heel. the receptionist starts saying some jargon about if you needed any more help but sunghoon’s already shutting the door in her face. the lock clicks, and your head whips to level him with a confused glance. 

sunghoon grabs a nearby chair and pulls it up to the knob, barring the door. you watch with bated breath as he rotates back to face you – tugging off his mask and cap, grinning maniacally. 

he’s thought about this more times than he can count. he’s dreamed of this exact scenario, ending in a slightly different yet drastic way each time. 

he braces for you to scream for help, to cry for mercy, to curse at him or run away from him. you might put up a fight, or you might just surrender. they’re his favourite fantasies, the one that enters his mind most often when he’s fisting his cock with your face pulled up on his phone. 

but you don’t do anything of the sort. you don’t do anything he was prepared for, anything that he’s imagined countless of times before. 

“sunghoon, right?” you say, recognition bright in your eyes as you point at him as if unexpectedly running into a friend. 

he freezes like an idiot. 

“how have you been?” you purr, sitting on the room’s couch. you make yourself comfortable when you lean back, cross your legs. the picture of a worry-free woman. how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?

how do you know his name?!

“you remember me..?” is all he can croak, shifting stupidly in his spot with a thousand yard stare. 

“of course i remember a familiar face,” you simply smile. “i still have the little crocheted penguin you gifted me at the houston send-off. i keep it on my shelf. it’s adorable.”

that catapults sunghoon’s heart over the fucking moon. do you understand how fucking long that tiny thing took him to learn how to make, and then actually make it? the fact that you still have it is something else entirely, but knowing the exact send-off too? because sunghoon doesn’t miss a single one. 

he doesn’t always get barricade, nor does he always get an interaction in with you, but he’s always there at your concerts. he’d rather die than skip showing up for his girl. every stop around the globe, he’s followed you. even when you’re not performing – attending events as a brand ambassador, going on vacations that aren’t on your public schedule. he’s easily dropped multiple zeros in dollars on paying off your sleazy staff members to forfeit insider information or set aside the vip tickets. 

it’s how he knows you’re a single girl, too. have been for quite a while. 

“so how have you been?” you ask him, smiling too fondly for someone who’s essentially his hostage. maybe all the time he spent meticulously doing skincare and waxing his face paid off – the stockholm syndrome affecting you in real time because he’s that hot. 

“oh– well, i don’t do much.” he replies without thinking. stupid, fucking stupid piece of shit. you probably think he’s such a boring loser. scrambling for something to impress you, he adds: “i’ve been spending a lot of money on a certain special someone.” 

sunghoon grins, intentionally popping the dimples from his cheeks so he looks like less of a threat. 

“is that so?” you ask, arching your back as you sit upright. his eyes track the movement, entranced. you’re flirting. “she must be a very lucky girl.”

sunghoon waves it off, like it’s nothing. because it is. you’ve consumed his life – there is no him without you. your music is what pulled him from the murky pits of water in his own head. instead of letting the waves drag him under, you made him want to tread above the surface and stay breathing. just so he could watch your career grow, your dreams come true. you saved his life and so he owes it to you. this is how he leads a fulfilling existence; following after you is how he breathes. 

“just want to make her happy. see her smile. be the reason she keeps making music, keeps living her dream.” sunghoon murmurs, taking space with each word, stepping until he’s towering before you. “are you? is it everything that you dreamed of?”

there’s a flicker across your face of something that he catches, but can’t quite place. before he can even interpret it, you’re smiling again like the sparkle in your eyes never left, shrugging one shoulder. 

“not in certain moments. but when i’m performing, that’s where i’m really living.” 

sunghoon’s hands twitch at his sides, wishing so desperately to reach out for you, to hold you for comfort or to shake you around until you cry, to throw you down and demand what he wants. he doesn’t know. he just needs to prove that he can affect you a sliver of the amount that you affect him. you’re not even scared right now. do you even care that he’s here? would you even react if security barged down the door and shot him in the head? 

there’s an endless list worth of questions he’s wanted to ask you before he dies – industry gossip, your deepest secrets that not even staff know, future releases, specific questions about you that are just to satiate his own greed to know every corner of your being – but he can’t bring himself to acknowledge any of it. he just blurts–

“do you think i won’t hurt you?”

sunghoon’s quite used to the feeling of keeping his eyes open as wide as possible, and he does so that he can take in every little flinch of your face. any reaction that passes across your features, no matter how miniscule. anything for him to interpret – to know if this is all an elaborate act, that you’re actually shaken to your core in fear of the man before you. but– 

nothing. nothing. nothing. 

he holds his eyes open so he doesn’t miss anything, but you do the same right back at him. you don’t blink either, so your faces just stare back at one another, expressionless and carved from stone. he locked you in here with him, he should be the one demanding all the cooperation – and yet all the power is in your hands. he doesn’t understand. 

“will you?” you ask, unphased.

he could, he thinks. he’d leave a mark at least – proof he was here, he got this close. he’d be hailed as some sort of messiah among your most devoted fans. 

but he doesn’t want to. he shakes his head almost imperceptibly, heat flaring behind his nose the only warning before guilty tears nearly dot his lashes. he shuts his eyes hard enough, quick enough that they don’t water. 

you shift in your seat, seeming intrigued. 

“no?” you ask him, and he nods in tiny again. you smile. “no. i didn’t think you were that type of person.” 

sunghoon’s breath rattles out from his throat. you shift forward, your hands reaching up to hover by his legs. you stare at him through your lashes, and his cock stands to attention just at the sight of you so close. regardless of if you’re even asking – he nods. 

your palms gently plant on either side of his thighs, and so much electricity courses through sunghoon’s blood that he’s almost worried he’ll zap and kill you. 

“i don’t know if i’ve ever told you before, but.. you’re really handsome, sunghoon.” 

his adam’s apple bobs almost painfully in a harsh gulp. it does nothing to relieve his cotton mouth. 

“you’re gorgeous.” he chokes out. “so much. perfect.” he’s just murmuring nonsense, brain turning to complete mush at the feel of your hands sliding over his pants. 

you sigh softly. “i feel so grateful, to be loved by you.” 

your hands glide to his front, his cock twitching as the heat of your fingertips graze closer. your thumbs brush at his hipbone, lingering at the band of his pants. 

“let me?” you whisper. so quietly, he thinks he must’ve hallucinated it. 

but he blinks, once and again, and he knows that the way you’re looking at him is real – because his brain could’ve never conjured it. 

you’re so fucking pretty. licking your lips, looking at him through eager eyes. fuck, you’re asking him to let you? even if you didn’t have his word, you could do whatever the fuck you want to him and he’d just take it like the grateful man he is. 

realising he’s making you wait, sunghoon chokes on his answer – his own hands fumbling to unbutton the pants for you. shaky fingers drag his zipper down, ripping the flyer open enough to reveal a glimpse of the prominent bulge in his boxers underneath. 

you follow his lead, flashing a smile that melts his entire being as your fingers find his waistband. you tug gently, and he winces as his length pulls with the movement. he only hopes that you don’t mention the massive stain of pre already there. the front of his pants have been growing tighter with each minute since he locked you in this room. 

slowly, you pull the fabric down until his cock bobs free, flushed red and leaking like a faucet. you blink at its size, wetting your lips again as your fingers reach out to wrap around the base. sunghoon just manages to stifle the sob of relief that nearly left his chest. 

he can’t help how his greedy pelvis bucks forward slightly, and is just as quick to cuss himself out for being so selfish. you make a small hum before leaning in, tapping your lips to the tip. so fucking soft..

you stretch your mouth around him, swallowing his whole length down until you meet your own fingers. sunghoon’s shaking above you, not even registering the embarrassing noises leaving his mouth from the pure ecstasy. you’re so hot and wet around him, tongue so perfectly tracing the vein on the underside of his length. 

you reverse the movement, pulling back and sucking as you go. sunghoon can’t even form a coherent thought, hands trembling at his sides when he should really reach out and pinch to check if you’re real. though the way your mouth seals tight around him feels real enough, the way your tongue swirls his head and laves at the slit. 

overwhelming pleasure seizes his body as you begin to bob your head, stars exploding from the inside out – and sunghoon blacks out. 

by the time he comes back to, he doesn’t immediately realise what happened. it’s not until he winces at the near painful sensitivity in his cock – glancing down as your glossy lips pop off his length, the sharp sensation sending goosebumps racing across his flesh. 

you grin intentionally at him, opening your mouth to show the mess coating your tongue. it’s only then that sunghoon realises he even came. 

prematurely. like a fucking virgin. 

you making a show of swallowing it, throat bobbing as the taste of him slides down. his cock twitches at the sight. 

sunghoon gathers his bearings, runs a hand through the sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. there’s a laundry list of things he would (and could) kill to do to you. every scenario he’s imagined, every position he’s daydreamed. his mind overloads with all the possibilities, causing his body to blank and still – while you’re still just there, waiting for him.

he shakes his head, settling on the decision that he’ll drop to his knees and return the favour. taste your slick between his teeth, unravel you on his tongue and feel you around his fingers. he almost drools just picturing it. 

BANG. BANG. 

sunghoon leaps from his skin at the sudden noise, whipping his head to the door and watching it shake in its frame, the knob wiggling. there’s overlapping voices on the other side yelling out your name, but you don’t seem the least bit rattled. 

you take it upon yourself to tuck sunghoon back into his pants, zipping it shut and giving his thigh a little pat – as if to reassure him. his heart would swell with affection, if only it wasn’t completely gripped with fear. 

“no need to worry!” you call out to the concerned shouts, then flash sunghoon an apologetic glance. “sorry about all that, excuse me.”

you cross the room to the door casually, as if you’re just letting in some guests to your home. you move the chair to the side, flick the lock and step back expectantly – the door flying open and slamming into the wall from the force. 

staff swarm you and fuss about, forming a protective blockade around you. that annoying receptionist appears at the door, pointing at sunghoon with a glare – then your security is quick to follow and hone in on him. sunghoon braces himself to sprint, to fight if he must, but you intervene; calling out to the guards and shooing them away from him like flies. 

“yes, yes. i’m alright.” you brush off your dress, throwing sunghoon a deliberate smile over your shoulder. “just catching up with a friend.”

not one of your crew buy that for one second, but without any signs of a visible struggle (and your own word), sunghoon knows that they can’t put a single finger on him. he smirks to himself, the power surge pumping hot in his veins. 

your crew are about to usher you back outside – sunghoon picking up scattered murmurs, one of which being that a few fans were arrested – but the circle halts with you as you spin on your heel, weaving through your staff and standing in front of sunghoon like everyone in this room isn’t watching. 

his heart beats like a rabid hare thumping its foot, head light and airy from the adrenaline. 

you reach for his fingers, lacing them with yours gently, and sunghoon catches your staff bracing themselves behind. you pay them no mind. 

“i’ll see you in sydney?” you smile. not one of your practiced or artificial ones – genuine. a bright ray of light to warm him and only him. 

sunghoon melts. he nods, pulse frenzied under the swipe of your thumb on his wrist. like hell he wouldn’t be there.

your smile splits even wider into your cheeks, eyes sparkling. 

“it’s a date then.”

—

following his impulsive stunt at the airport, sunghoon only narrowly avoided arrest, which he suspects is because of your own interference. he’s still able to catch the flight directly after yours and follow you en route to australia. 

which– well, you came onto him, so what law was really broken on his part? none that seemed to bother you too much, seeing as you were more than happy to shove his cock in your mouth.

sunghoon hasn’t washed since. he doesn’t want to scrub off the traces of your saliva, doesn’t want to smother your touch with his own; knowing it couldn’t begin to compare. he could almost cry from the pain of his boners when replaying the memory, but he refuses to relieve it himself. 

riding on that extreme high, sunghoon has the confidence to text your number. he bought it from some staff members ages ago but couldn’t find the words to strike up a conversation, one that’d catch your eye among all the other fans choking up your private messages. 

typing out and backspacing for what might’ve been hours, sunghoon settles on literally just stating his name and a simple hello. 

he doesn’t think he needs any more than that, really. you already remembered his face, name, the penguin he crocheted – and sucked him off – so you’re well acquainted at this point. 

he may as well just ask you out, right? he knows for a fact that you’re not exactly handing out blowjobs like candy for fans. you have self-respect, you’re a romantic at heart. you wouldn’t just.. throw yourself at anyone, not if it didn’t mean something. right? 

he’s known you’re the one for him, only one all these years – and it seems just getting you in a room alone is how it clicked for you, too. 

strung along by red twine, dancing around your fate at concerts and events – then pulled as if on a leash, until you were on your knees and wrapping your mouth around him. 

sunghoon stuffs his face in his hands as it burns red, rolling around in the hotel bed and giggling to himself. fuck, what a slowburn. such a damn tease. you like the chase, huh? you like seeing him lose his fucking mind, pining after you? 

at the sudden ding of his phone, he rises upright in bed like a vampire and swipes the device from his side table – heart palpitations revving up like a harley as he reads your name in the notification. 

you actually answered. 

not a question on how he got your number, or why he locked you in that room, or what he even wants from you. you happily greet him right back. ask about his flight, if he’s settled in alright. 

and then you just… talk. like real people do. 

naturally, he’s got access to your schedule, so he knows how impossibly busy you’ll be within the day, every hour accounted for leading up to the concert. but you still find time to text him back, to engage in conversation and inquire about how he’s doing like the absolute sweetheart you are. you get to know him, really know him, outside of just the devilishly handsome guy who’s made your music his entire personality. you don’t talk a whole lot about yourself – but all of it goes without saying. sunghoon already knows everything there is to know about you except for what goes on in your actual brain.

you seem.. bored, almost. like he’s the most interesting thing you’ve got going on, as a world famous popstar. conversations turning dull when he asks about your life off the clock – but you’ll light right up when you’re talking about him. asking about his hobbies and his schooling and his parents.

each word sunghoon trades with you feels like he’s boiling alive and then dipped in ice water. it’s startling how it all feels so natural, flowing and blooming into something genuine. sunghoon would have you in any way he’d be lucky enough to get – as in sick with fear or scathing with hatred – but he’s not equipped to understanding what it actually is. you’re giving him your time because you get along, and you think he’s hot and you laugh at his jokes. 

you never mention how he’s followed you across the globe, how he’s always there as an audience when you’re performing or when you’re not even working. but, then again, you also might not even care. considering you’re still chatting him up over text despite it all when you could’ve just.. let the authorities deal with him. 

the day of your concert, sunghoon arrives to camp outside of the stadium before the sun’s even up. he’s joined by some familiar faces (jake among them, who flips him off and doesn’t acknowledge him again) while waiting through the sweltering southern heat, eyes glued to his phone as he waits for you to text him back in fleeting increments throughout the day. 

he never doubted it, but sunghoon’s amazed by how he keeps falling even deeper in love with you. it’s like you couldn’t give less of a fuck about who he is and what he does – about who you are and why you shouldn’t even be allowing him space in your life. 

but circumstances can be damned where fate is concerned. 

in the end, it’s you and him. 

it’s like heaven’s gates parting when the crowd’s finally allowed inside the venue, sunghoon rushing in for his rightful spot at the barricade. time crawls by painstakingly slow, bodies packed in like sardines and overlapping voices like nails on a chalkboard to his ears. the hours are punctuated with a reply or two from you, and the bliss is enough to get him through the wait. right up until you text him that you’re nervous, he wishes you good luck, and within the next minute you’re raised up onto the stage via platform for the soundcheck. 

your eyes find sunghoon in an instant. you trade big, cheesy grins like two puppies in love – confused whispers and jealous glares rolling through the crowd. 

you go about performing as usual, singing an interesting choice of tracks, on the spicier side of your discography. you even make it a point to dance a little for him, standing on the edge of the stage to give him an upskirt view – even checking if he’s looking with a cheeky smile. his cock throbs where it’s pressed into the railing, the cold metal ineffective in deterring it. god, he’s fucking crazy about you. 

when the soundcheck comes to a torturous end, you throw sunghoon a wink, holding his heated stare as you disappear below the stage. 

well. after all that he thinks he needs a good fucking wank. 

he’s so dazed in his own little world, sunghoon doesn’t even register the crowd parting behind him – not until he’s being grabbed on the shoulder, a gruff male voice low in his ear. 

a security guard roughly spins him around, leading him out of the pit, his beloved barricade spot being filled within the next second. sunghoon can’t even bring himself to feel pissed off at the loss of his view or at the smug grins of jealous motherfuckers in the crowd – not when his heart sinks below his feet and his mind spins at a mile a minute as the guard pushes him through various dark corners and empty corridors. 

did it all catch up to him? were you really fooling him? this is it, isn’t it? you were just building a case against him. you didn’t actually like him. 

pfft, who was he kidding? you’ve got the evidence ready, the police are actively waiting outside to take him away in cuffs. oh fuck he’s so stupid. he’s so fucking stupid. this is what he gets for giving his heart to a woman, a celebrity at that. you’d never want him. there’s no way he’s the first fan you’ve done this with. he’s just a placeholder. you think you’re too good for him. you–

“sunghoon!” 

the sound of your voice slices through his racing thoughts. the sight of your face hits him like an arrow to the chest, his thumper heart threatening to leap from his ribs. 

you coo out something to him he can’t quite catch over the ringing in his ears – followed by a flick of your wrist to direct the security guard back out the door they came from. 

you’re still dressed in the soundcheck outfit, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that makes your skin appear as if glowing, cloying in the air with a faint perfume. he thinks you’ve never looked prettier like this, out of breath and clammy; perceiving you without the filter of that perfectly curated idol image. 

you set down an empty bottle of water before pacing over, stopping just before him. barely one step and he could close this distance. is that what you want?

“hey,” you get his attention, regarding him with such a soft smile that he nearly drops to his knees right then. “how was it?” 

“good–” he answers plainly before stepping to you, leaving no time to react before both of his hands are swallowing either side of your waist. your breath hitches as he tugs you in, pressing himself flush against your front. “–you do this type of fan service often?” he grits out, locking much harsher words behind his teeth. 

“what?” you stare cluelessly with big lost eyes, gasping when his fingers dig in until his nails sting your flesh. 

“i can’t be the only one, right? fuck, i’m so dumb.” he chuckles bitterly to himself. “you trying to get more money out of me? or is this some kind of sick fun to you?” sunghoon shakes you in his arms, riling himself up more by the second. “huh? you enjoy leading your fans on?? tell me honestly please, don’t treat me like an idiot any more.”

“no.” you say, so firmly that it actually takes him aback. “i’d be in more trouble than you if anyone–”

sunghoon laughs, laughs at how absurd this situation is. how he’s wished and prayed for a chance to have you this close and now all he can feel is rage. his hand flies up to your hair, tugging your head back – the startled noise you let out going straight to his stiffening cock. 

“you’re a slut, then? you let your fans use you so they keep coming back?” he pouts dramatically at you, before bearing his canines in a grin. “or are you hoping that we’ll leave you alone?”

the slope of your neck bobs with a gulp, his eyes tracking the movement. “i let you, because i like you.”

you watch his eyes flit rapidly over your face, searching desperately for any sign that you’re lying, playing him like a fool again. 

“bet you tell them all that.” he huffs, not buying it for a second. “bet they all fall for it too.”

“there is no–” you scrunch your face when his fist curls tighter in your hair, letting out a noise that sounds nothing like frustration or fear. he could almost think that you’re.. 

“hoon.” you say sternly, the nickname catching him off-guard. his heart would almost swell over it if he wasn’t so close to ripping your fucking hair out in jealousy. “there is nobody else. i’ve been texting you because i want to. i asked my guard to bring you here so i could see you. god, i blew you at an airport! i’ve never even..”

you sigh, exasperated, and the pieces finally slide into place for sunghoon. they click slowly, even reluctantly, since the circumstances really are this hard to believe. 

“you mean it?..” he mutters, fingers loosening in your strands. 

“yes, of course i do.” testing the waters, your palms run up his chest to hold his cheeks with a featherlight touch, and sunghoon melts into it. “i see you all the time, and i’ve always wanted to get to know you more. but what could i do? nothing from my position.”

you want love, just like him. you want him, just like he wants you. 

you don’t care about his intentions when he dragged you from your staff and locked you in a room. you don’t even care that he followed you all the way here from korea. you don’t give a single shit that he pays off your staff to provide him enough private info to warrant a lawsuit. 

“you want me?” 

“of course i do.” you echo, thumbs brushing tenderly across the pale of his cheek. 

he licks his lips, anticipation and something more sinister bubbling in his blood, heating up his body. “say it.” 

“i want you.” 

sunghoon nearly moans hearing it from your mouth, his cock filling out his pants eagerly. he gives another tug on your hair, and his suspicions are confirmed when you whine. you like the pain. or do you just like being treated this way?

“do you now?” he says nearly mockingly, swiping his thumb across the plush of your lip to contrast the sting. you respond keenly: lips sealing around his thumb, dabbing your tongue on the skin. sunghoon curses lowly, breath growing heavier, and when you start to suck he has to pull away.  

only to replace his hand with his mouth as he captures yours in a kiss. there’s no patience in it – one second in and already he needs more, tilting your head by the hair as he shoves his tongue in. licking against yours roughly, palate filling with your saliva, cock twitching as he tastes every corner of your mouth. 

you ball fists in his shirt, whimpering quietly at how harshly he’s kissing you, how he’ll slightly pull your hair like a reminder. you just take it, better yet – you give back. you slide your tongue with his, rolling your hips into his body and earning a bite on your lower lip. you whine from the shock and sunghoon parts with you, tutting. 

“you trying to piss me off?” he huffs out, stilling you by the waist with his free hand. you’re treading a fine fucking line of his self-control right now. if you’re not careful, he might really lose it. and he doesn’t want to hurt you – unless you want that. fuck. his cock pulses just considering it, and of course you felt it, flashing him a cheeky grin. 

“do your worst.” you tell him, intentionally bucking your pelvis forward to rub against his boner. he feels the heat of you even through the fabric, and sunghoon heaves a gasp, every nerve in his body screaming to throw you to the ground and just take you. 

there comes that fucking nickname again, “hoon”, needily whined against his earlobe – and you could hear a pin drop in the brief silence that follows, before his lips are smothering yours so desperately that his teeth scrape your gums, hands gripping impossibly tighter as he backs you into the closest wall. 

sunghoon nearly shoves your body against it, kindness forgotten with his brain tuned into one sole purpose. he kisses you like he’s trying to consume you, palm trailing down the side of your body, stopping only to grope your breast here or squeeze your curves there. if he wasn’t so fired up, he’d take his time with you. kiss every inch of your body and draw out the pleasure. his cock is begging him for otherwise though. 

he reaches a hand under this fucking skirt that’s burned into the deepest pit of his memories – and you moan in tandem when sunghoon’s fingers press into your panties, the fabric dipping where it’s soaked in your arousal. he has to remind himself to breathe as he runs his fingertips over the thin cotton, feeling each ridge from how it’s stuck to your cunt in arousal. 

he slides a finger past the soiled fabric, dipping into the hot arousal pooled at your hole. his length pulses where it’s pressed into the meat of your thigh. sucking in a breath, sunghoon trudges past his own need as he gathers your slick on his index and middle, dragging the fingers up your folds. you shiver when he grazes your clit, melting into the prettiest whine as his fingers draws digit eights on the bundle of nerves. 

with his hand focused on your clit, sunghoon busies his mouth when he latches it to your neck, smirk pressed into your skin with how you throb under his fingers in response. sunghoon runs his tongue over the juncture between your neck and shoulder, littering the skin with nips of his teeth and sucks of his mouth – leaving the mark of his presence in hickeys and bites. he laves at the salty sheen of sweat coating your body, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he tastes you in yet another way. 

on that thought, he rotates his hand; thumb replacing the fingers on your clit with firm swipes, his index and middle breaching past your hole and curling up to make you see stars. 

you’re unintelligible as he fucks you on his fingers, head lolled back into the wall as he ravages the slope of your neck, clenching down so perfectly he damn nearly cums just wondering how it’d feel wrapped around his cock. 

“shit,” he groans as he presses particularly hard into your g-spot, feeling how tightly you wrapped around the digits as if on command. he rips his hand from your cunt suddenly, and you gasp at the sound of fabric tearing when he pulls your panties further to the side. 

sunghoon licks at his fingers just so he can taste you down there too, your slick sweet on his palate. though it only serves to snap the last shred of his resolve, and before either of you know it he’s ripping his pants open so quick that the button flies to the floor – cock bobbing free and pressed to your cunt within the next second.

sunghoon lets out a sob, vision whiting out from how unbelievable you feel against him: your hole twitching where he’s just barely pressing his tip, a mix of your arousal and his pre running down his length. he bucks his pelvis slightly, cock rubbing through your wet folds. his tip nudges your clit and you both just tremble.

it takes everything in him and then some to not just thrust in and pound you like a dog in heat. 

sunghoon tries to gather the words to ask for your permission, but all that leaves him is a hoarse exhale, cock pulsing where it’s buried between your folds. you snap him out of the daze when a hand comes to wraps around his bicep, preparing to ground yourself. 

“i want it in,” you ask so nicely, batting your lashes at the man heaving like a beast before you. “please?” 

that word singlehandedly airs out every thought left in his brain. sunghoon doesn’t even think, just acts as he snaps his pelvis and splits your pussy on his cock. one swift movement and he’s buried all the way in; balls pressed to your ass, body slumped against yours as you barely keep yourself upright. 

you’re both a mess, arms wrapping around each other as an anchor, bodies pressed so tight your heartbeats start to hammer as one. sunghoon grinds forward, soiling his balls in the dripping arousal as he attempts to gently stretch you out. for your comfort, and for his own dignity, so he doesn’t cum right the fuck now. he knows he should’ve prepped you more, but he might have died from blood loss if he didn’t give attention to his raging boner for any longer. 

although.. you’ve got a death grip around his cock. sunghoon usually jerks off hard and fast with a fist clenched so tight that it hurts, and still he can’t do anything but direct his own breathing as your cunt adjusts to his size. in and out, in and out.. 

fuck.

“fuck!” sunghoon cries out as he gives a quick thrust, barely even pulling out before sinking deeper, tip nudging your cervix as you gasp a moan. “f-fuck, fuck–” his hips stutter before they find a pace, bracing his hands on the wall behind as he drives his cock into you over and over. 

your knuckles turn white where they’re holding onto his back for dear life, he’s sure to find tracks of scratches across the muscles tomorrow. yet he can’t even feel the sting over your pussy sucking him in – perfect. so perfect in how you flutter around his length with each thrust, your pretty whimpers and cries as he rams into your g-spot every time.

“god– you..you’re taking it!”

you babble out something that might be a reply, trembling fingers reaching for his neck to hold his face close. his chest twists with pure love for you. everything he’s done in your name, it paid off. it surmounted to this. you let him in, and now he’ll give you his blood. 

“let me?” sunghoon pleads in a broken voice, hanging on by the thinnest thread as he pounds you into the wall, his lower belly coiled dangerously tight. he wants to cum inside you so bad. he wants to ruin you for anyone else. “let me, pleasepleaseplease–”

“yes, yes!” you plead right back, mouth falling open as he picks up to an animalistic speed. 

a few good thrusts later and sunghoon’s spilling inside you, pace undeterred as he focuses on fucking as deep as possible inside you. cockhead dribbling warm ropes of cum into the bump of your cervix. 

sunghoon slumps all of his weight onto yours as he chases his breaths, still nestled deep inside and groaning with each pulse of his cock. the comedown leaves him in some halfway point between heaven; bliss floating through his veins, a smile carved deep onto his lips. 

this time, he pinches himself to check – and when he blinks, it all stays right where it was. 

even in your state, you catch the gesture and breathe out a laugh, too exhausted to get the noise out. your knuckles run over his forearms, wondering when he’ll start to soften inside you. 

sunghoon starts to kiss your neck again, and you have the realisation that he intends to keep going. you push him off you gently, reaching down to slip his still-hard cock out. 

“as much as i don’t want to, i need to get back to work.” you remind him, your concert still very much looming on the evening. 

sunghoon grimaces like the fact personally offends him – though he’s not sulking for long as he watches you pull him out and then tug your underwear back in place with one quick motion, soiling the fabric as his cum stuffs your cunt. 

“i’m sorry about your spot,” you say, tenderly cupping his cheek and giving him soft eyes. “my staff know who you are now, and they could escort you to the private box?” 

sunghoon nods, smiling stretching even wider, flashing his canines. he doesn’t need to prove he’s not a threat – you know, and you don’t care. 

you brush your skirt down back into place. “i’ll see you after the send-off wraps up?” 

you don’t have to tell him where you’ll be. the place that your staff picked out for post-show dinner and drinks. he already paid to know that. and you’d know this too. 

but you don’t mention it as you leave him with a sweet kiss on the lips. in fact, he doesn’t think you ever will. 

—

sunghoon didn’t know he had this much love in his body. all the blood that keeps his heart beating isn’t close to enough for what he wishes to give to you. his girlfriend. his world famous, popstar, funny and talented and gorgeously perfect girlfriend. ever since he first called you that he just can’t stop saying it. 

sunghoon has a sort of notoriety now within his community of your fandom. he went silent following the infamous airport stunt and the guard pulling him from the sydney pit – and a few photos with someone resembling him at the after-show dinner had made the rounds around fans with insider connections. it was all kept very hush-hush, hadn’t made it to any outlets thank god. out of jealousy, he assumes. he made it and they didn’t. 

you’ve fully opened yourselves to each other, much like normal couples do. he promised to leave that life behind for good, and feels immense shame for everything he did leading up to dating you. 

and, cross his heart, he does. but after years of chasing this exact goal, he can’t but feel a thousandfold more obsessed with you. his girlfriend. you’re still his entire purpose in life. he gave up everyone else in his life who wasn’t you, so when you’re too busy with work to listen to him ranting on and on about how much he adores you, who else is he meant to turn to?

Anonymous posted: We all know that y/n’s been dating lately. With the way she limps on stage, I bet she lets her boyfriend fuck her right before she goes on. He cums inside her, stuffs her full and puts her panties right back on so it’s all sealed tight inside. Performing and dancing around for the crowd with her man’s cum still hot in her pussy. 

smooothoperator: shit that sounds so hot

heesung64: I’d kill to be her boyfriend and do that everyday

doggystyle02: fuck you i know exactly who this is. fuck off and die

jay, who had been watching the scene unfold with mild amusement, let out a soft scoff. "be careful," he warned, taking a step forward, his protective instincts kicking in.

you glanced back at him with a playful pout, eyes narrowing just slightly at his concern. "it's a cat, jay, not a wild tiger," you huffed before turning your attention back to the tiny creature, now cautiously inching closer to you.

jay chuckled, shaking his head as he finally gave in and walked over, crouching down beside you. "did you just call the cat 'jay'?"

"yeah," you said matter-of-factly, glancing at him before gesturing toward the cat, who was now hesitantly sniffing your outstretched fingers. "look at it...that's literally you."

jay raised a brow, tilting his head slightly. "baby, i'm not a feline animal."

"no, but you both have the same energy," you teased, smirking. "all broody and mysterious at first, but deep down, you just want some love and attention."

jay rolled his eyes, but you caught the way his lips twitched, fighting back a smile. "okay, first of all, i am not broody."

"mm-hmm, sure," you hummed, finally getting the chance to gently pet the cat as it nuzzled into your palm. "you even have the same attitude. a little cautious at first, but once you warm up, you're just a big softie."

jay sighed dramatically, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you with fond eyes. "i can't believe i'm losing to a cat right now."

you giggled, turning to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "don't worry, you're still my favorite."

he scoffed, nudging your shoulder lightly before wrapping an arm around you, watching as the cat curled up comfortably between you both. "yeah, yeah. just don’t expect me to start purring anytime soon."

"no promises," you teased, and the soft laughter that followed was just another reason why moments like these with jay were your absolute favorite.

grinning, you turned your full attention back to jay, eyes twinkling with mischief as you reached out to gently squish his cheeks between your palms. "you're so cute," you cooed, tilting your head as you took in his face, completely smitten.

jay blinked, his brows immediately furrowing as he tried to pull away from your grasp. "no, i'm not," he protested, voice slightly muffled by the way you were squishing his cheeks together.

"yes, you are," you sang, giggling as you continued to smush his face, pressing his cheeks together until his lips puckered involuntarily. "look at you! all soft and pouty."

jay let out a huff, grabbing your wrists in an attempt to free himself, but you were persistent, refusing to let go. "baby, seriously. stop it."

"why? am i embarrassing you?" you teased, eyes full of amusement as you tilted his face from side to side, admiring him like he was the most precious thing on earth.

he rolled his eyes, trying to feign annoyance, but the way his ears turned pink completely gave him away. "no," he muttered, voice lacking any real conviction. "i just... i’m not cute."

"oh, but you are," you argued, now tracing his jaw with your fingers before cupping his face once more. "you're the cutest. my soft, broody, little black cat boyfriend."

jay groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "why do i even try with you?"

you giggled, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose before resting your forehead against his. "because you love me," you whispered, grinning when you felt his breath hitch.

he sighed, finally giving up as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. "unfortunately," he mumbled, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

"aww, my cute, soft jay," you teased once more, running your fingers through his hair.

"stop calling me that," he whined, though he made absolutely no move to pull away from you.

"never," you declared, giving his cheeks one last playful squeeze before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

he stirred. 

his lashes fluttered. a soft, confused exhale left him as consciousness slowly dragged him back to the surface. sunghoon rubbed his eyes as they opened—hazy at first, then sharpened with dawning awareness. for a split second, he simply stared at the ceiling, still half–lost in whatever nightmare he’d been having. 

sunghoon turned his head toward your side of the bed.

empty. cold. the sheets were messy. like you’d gone up hours before.

“yn…?” his voice was hoarse, thick with sleep and confusion.

sunghoon sat up slowly, scanning his dark bedroom. the closet door facing the bed was closed. and the bathroom light was off too. even the bedroom door was still locked. nothing moved and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

the silence pressed in heavier, however, suffocating.

“shh… go back to bed.”

the whisper came from behind him—soft, loving, almost motherly and ghostly. but it wasn’t from the bed. it came from the…

corner.

sunghoon froze. every hair on his body stood up at once. slowly, dread pooling like ice in his tummy, he turned his head toward the half-wall that separated the bedroom from the bathroom.

there you were.

only your head.

peeking out from behind the sharp edge of the corner like a creature that had learned how to wear a human face. your eyes were wide open, unblinking, reflecting the moonlight in a way that made your orbs look wet and glassy.

your pupils were blown wide with something far beyond affection. 

strands of your hair clung to your cheeks, damp with sweat even though the room was cold. a thin string of drool glistened from the corner of your mouth down to your chin. you hadn’t moved since the past two hours. didn’t need to.

being this close was enough.

“y—yn…” his voice cracked, breath hitching halfway through his lungs. his heart smalled violently against his ribs. “wh—what are you doing? how long have you been standing there?”

you tilted your head slightly, but the movement was so jerky and unnatural. like a puppet with tangled strings.

“sorry… did i surprise you?” you whispered, voice honey sweet dripping and cracking at the edges. your eyes never left his face, still shining with love. “you were sleeping so beautifully. i didn’t wanna wake you up… but i couldn’t stop looking.”

you smiled, too wide. “you’re so soft when you’re unconscious. so cute.” 

sunghoon’s back pressed harder against the headboard, his breathing shallow and panicked.

your smile widened dreamily. 

“i was thinking about how your skin would taste… right here,” you murmured, gaze dropping to the slope of his neck. “warm. and salty. just a little bite. i promise i wouldn’t waste anything.” 

sunghoon swallowed hard, his face pale like the moon. his voice shook as he tried to sound calm. 

“wh—what? hey… um, just come to bed?” he patted the empty spot beside him with a trembling hand, forcing a weak, uneasy, hopefully convincing smile. “it’s late. you should… you should lie down. please?”

a soft, childish giggle slipped from your lips. you stayed exactly where you were, head still tilted at that unnatural angle, only the upper half of your face visible around the corner. 

gosh, you looked so… inhuman.

“nooooooo,” you drew out, almost like a whine. “i don’t want to come to bed yet. i want to stare at you a little longer.” your eyes roamed over his body slowly. “you look so cute! your pulse is jumping right here…” your gaze fixed on his neck again.

“oh, i just love you soooooooooo much.” 

sunghoon’s voice cracked, trying desperately to sound gentle. “ah… ah, i—i love you too, so please just come here…”

the moment the words left his mouth, your expression twisted. the dreamy smile you had on dropped instantly, replaced by a deep, angry frown that made your face look completely—distorted. 

“no!” you suddenly yelled, voice sharp and thrill. “no, no, no! i want to stare at you! i want to watch you! why don’t you understand?!”

your nails dug into the wallpaper beside the corner with a sickening shrrrip. they tore through the material like claws, shredding long, jagged strips that fluttered to the floor. your eyes were wide and manic now, breath coming fast and wet.

“stop!” sunghoon shouted, finally breaking in fear. “you’re freaking me out! yn, stop!”

you froze mid–tear. the anger vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a sudden, childlike guilt. slowly, you stepped out from behind the corner, fully revealing yourself for the first time.

only dressed in only your panties and his unzipped hoodie—your hair was messy, cheeks flushed, nails ragged and bloody with shreds of wallpaper stuck underneath. 

“i didn’t mean to…” you whispered, voice small and trembling. your head tilted again, that same jerky motion like your screws came loose. “i didn’t mean to scare you, baby. i just… i love you so much it really hurts… sometimes i feel like if i don’t look at you, you’ll disappear.”

you took one small step closer to the bed, eyes glassy with that obsessive hunger. 

“can i keep watching? just for a little longer, please? i promise i won’t bite.”