MiuMia

His hands squeezed—spreading them wider, pressing his face deeper—nose bumping your sensitive clit while his hair tickled the skin of your inner thighs

kissing the nub, sucking it into his mouth, letting his tongue lie flat over it, then circling it in wide drags

Ryuls tongue glided inside your folds, fucking into them—caressing your thighs while his lips sucked above,

“Morning.”

His voice vibrated, still rough from sleep—making you breath hitch,

“Mmm—you woke me up Ryul, seriously”

He nodded between your legs—gazing at you lustfully, eyes glazed with persistence

“sorry baby, keep using my mouth—can’t stop now”

He pulled away—letting his cheek press to your stomach, begging with his gaze “Please, I need to taste your cum in my mouth”

His lips traced down your belly button—kissing the trail, stopping at your public bone

stare insistent, darting his tongue out to lick above the prickly spot, obsessed with every inch of you

“I’ll let you sleep after—c’mon”

Denying him hurt more than losing the precious state of sleep you were in,

Naturally, your thighs spread apart—Ryul grinning below at your resolve, licking his lips.

“Thank you”

“Wait”

You fisted his hair—holding his head up

His gaze shot up—fingers drumming against your thigh impatiently “Yes ma’am”, still, he’d comply

“We’re not fucking, I need sleep. Got it?”, your voice firm

Ryul smiled sharp “You really think I need us to fuck babe..”

His head dipped, placing wet kisses directly on your damp slit “This is all I need, right here in my mouth, right now..”

“Mmh’—fucking crazy” you pushed his face down, grinding your hips up forcefully—suffocating his face with your pussy

“Mmph—.

He ate you out frantically, tip of his tongue detailing every wrinkled flesh “,crazy for you—put that pussy all on me, now”, he groaned into you

Soo infatuated in your morning taste—body scent settled in, the one that made pre-cum leak out his boxers, cream smeared on your ankles, so hard from the ease of early mornings

Muscles relaxed, body still floating between realities, sunlight blurring in through his black blinds

Threading your fingers looser in his soft hair, you parted the draping strands from his eyes—Ryul too busy to care about it, humming in stubborn attention

Your clit got puffier at each of his suckles on the raw nub—fully hardened in his mouth now compared to the foreign sensation given while in dream state

Gasping, pants breathless

he slid in two fingers—squelching noises filling the quiet morning, guiding them slowly to fuck into you

“Fuck. Faster Ryul”

Your sub boyfriend listened,

curling them perfectly inside your gummy walls, hitting the spongy hilt that made you unravel in seconds

“Let go for me”

He growled,

Tongue flicking to the sides faster,

his lips sucking everything they could to his warm fleshy mouth—

Thick fingers pumped harder, pulling his face away for his thumb to rub your clit,

spitting over it to get you wetter, saliva making it slide better in his thumb, circles turning slippery

“Nngh’. Fuck, more”

—

Ryul sighed low when you finally came—his rough noises of satisfaction joined your moans

your body jutting up instinctively to him, arching before he leaned down,

giving your pussy attention again with his mouth,

he lapped you up dry, tongue laid thickly, catching everything drop you contracted out your hole— letting his fingers graze your core, sliding them in lazily, then back out—smitten at the scene

“Can’t get enough”

His cheek pressed to your thigh, finally sliding his fingers out, the “pop” making his balls twitch in the Calvin boxers

“Ryul.”

“Mm”, he hummed, molding his lips to the skin below—caressing it

“That was perfect”, you stretched out, sighing—needing to ground yourself, pounding with nerves

“It was either this or I was gonna eat you after practice”,

his brown orbs shifted up to your dewy face, fingers circling your sides

“..but I wanted to wake you up like this.”

Giggling, you stared at your handsome boyfriend—lost in each others gazes for a bit

He broke the silence

“I’m a little mad though”, Ryul pouted

“What, why” your hand cupped his thin face,

He nuzzled your hand—tongue darting, licking your palm slowly,

gaze still on you

way more submissive now.

“…could’ve pulled my hair harder.”

Masterlist

anton was obsessed with you in the most disgusting way.

it was not even the moans or the whimpers during sex that got him the worst (though those destroyed him too). it was the tiny, everyday noises you made without thinking.

the soft little hum when you stretched in the morning.

the sleepy sigh when you cuddled into his chest.

the small “mmh?” when he called your name.

the gentle giggle when something was barely funny.

even the way you breathed sometimes.

he was completely, pathetically addicted.

ྀི * · 🪽

last night you had been half-asleep on the couch, head in his lap. you let out the smallest, softest sigh as you shifted, nuzzling your cheek against his thigh.

anton’s cock twitched instantly.

he pulled you up into his lap so fast you squeaked. that little sound made him throb painfully. he buried his face in your neck, hands sliding under your shirt while he ground his hard cock against your ass.

“you make the prettiest noises,” he mumbled, already pushing your shorts aside. “even when you are just breathing… i get so fucking hard.”

he fucked you right there on the couch, slow and deep, chasing every whimper and gasp you made until you were both shaking and he filled you up with a broken moan.

˚ 🐰࿔

the next morning you were still curled up in bed, half-asleep and warm under the blankets. anton woke up first, like always, and the second he heard you he was gone.

you made the tiniest sleepy noise — a soft, breathy little “mmh…” as you shifted closer to him, face nuzzling into his chest. your lips parted with a quiet sigh, then another small hum when his arm wrapped around you.

anton’s cock hardened so fast it almost hurt.

he stayed still for a moment, just listening. every tiny sleepy sound you made went straight to his dick. you sighed again, softer this time, and rubbed your cheek against his bare chest like a kitten.

“fuck… baby,” he whispered, voice already wrecked. his hand slid down your body slowly, cupping your ass and pulling you closer until his hard cock was pressed between your thighs.

you were still half asleep, making those sweet little unconscious noises every time you moved. anton could not take it anymore.

he gently rolled you onto your back, spreading your legs and settling between them. you stirred a little, letting out another soft “mmh?” but your eyes stayed closed.

“shhh, go back to sleep, pretty girl,” he murmured, kissing your neck. “just let me use you for a second… your sleepy sounds are driving me crazy.”

he pushed your panties to the side and rubbed his leaking tip against your entrance. you were still a little wet from last night. he slid in slowly, groaning quietly as your warmth surrounded him.

you made the cutest sleepy whimper when he bottomed out, eyebrows furrowing slightly. anton’s hips twitched at the sound.

“that’s it… make those noises for me,” he whispered, starting to thrust slow and deep. every gentle roll of his hips pulled another tiny moan or sigh out of you, even while you were barely awake.

he buried his face in your neck, breathing you in while he fucked you lazily. “you have no idea what you do to me… just sighing in your sleep and i am this hard. such a dangerous little girlfriend.”

your breathing changed as you slowly woke up, turning into soft whimpers every time he hit that perfect spot. anton groaned and sped up just a little, one hand sliding between you to rub your clit.

“keep making those sounds, baby. please. i love them so much.”

you finally blinked awake, eyes glassy and confused but needy. “anton…?”

“good morning, pretty,” he whispered, kissing you deep as he kept thrusting. “you were making the cutest sleepy noises and i could not help it… you sounded too good.”

you moaned softly and wrapped your legs around him, still half-asleep but letting him use you however he wanted. anton fucked you a little harder, chasing the little gasps and whimpers falling from your lips.

“gonna cum inside you,” he panted against your mouth. “want to fill my noisy girl up while she is still all sleepy and cute.”

you came with a soft, broken cry, clenching around him. anton followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a low groan, hips twitching as he filled you up.

afterwards he stayed inside you, collapsing on top of your smaller body and nuzzling into your neck. his arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand gently stroking your hair.

“sorry baby… your sleepy sounds are my weakness,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “i heard you sigh and hum and i got so hard i could not wait.”

you giggled sleepily, still full of him. “pervert.”

anton smiled shyly but hugged you tighter. “only for you. every single noise you make… even the tiny ones when you are half asleep… they all belong to me.”

he pressed another kiss to your lips, then another, already getting hard again just from the soft little hum you made against his mouth.

“think you can give me a few more sounds before breakfast, baby?”

you nodded with a shy little whimper.

anton grinned.

“reverse domestic abuse,” the male officer in front of you added quietly. “women hurting men. it happens all the time, doesn’t matter if he’s bigger. we’ve got photos of the bite mark on his arm, the scratches down his face, the bruising around his eye… he didn’t do that to himself.”

your lips parted, but no sound came out at first. your eyes welled up again.

“i love him,” you murmured. “you don’t understand our relationship… people are going to think i’m some kind of monster when they hear this. he’s park sunghoon. everyone loves him.”

the female officer’s expression almost softened a fraction.

“look, we’re not here to judge your relationship. but we have to document what we see. and right now, what we see is him refusing to press charges… again. he’s outside filling out the paperworks to take you home. but this report is still getting filed.”

you stared down at your hands on your lap, the same hands that had allegedly left marks on a man that counts his calories and only eats protein and almost nothing else. the weight of how the story will come out was already spinning in your head—the headlines, the rumours, the whispers that you’re an abuser…

the sweet actress, yn ln is actually the violent one.

you glanced up at the officer. 

“...why… why is this getting filed…? you don’t have proof that it was my doing.” 

the female officer exchanged a quick look with her partner before answering. she’s calm—but the police bluntness made your stomach twist even tighter. 

“i get it… you’re scared. you’re a public figure. but the injuries, and witnesses are all backing it up. he didn’t give those to himself. and this isn’t the first time we called you in here,”

she paused, then added more gently:

“we have park sunghoon’s statement, even if he’s downplaying it. and we have your boyfriend sitting out there with a fresh teeth mark on his arm, scratches, and bruises starting to form. we have to file this report, that’s procedure. whether charges get pressed or not is up to him… and right now, he’s refusing.”

you felt tears sting your eyes again, hot and angry.

“so what, i just get labeled as the crazy girlfriend who beats up park sunghoon? even though he’s twice my size? even though he could’ve stopped me anytime he wanted?” your voice rose, shaky. “this isn’t fair. none of this is fair—i didn’t do anything. i—i’d never hurt him. i love him.”

the male officer shifted on his feet. “fair or not, this is what happened tonight. you two need to figure your shit out before something worse goes down. if there’s a next time—it won’t look so good on your resume, miss ln.”

your eye twitched, and you sucked the inside of your cheek.

“...can i see him now?”

——

even as he hunched over the clipboard, park sunghoon still looked unfairly handsome like this—his sharp jawline, messy, unbrushed hair falling into his eyes… the black hoodie he’d thrown on in a rush when he got the call from the station. 

but the bruises and scratches made it impossible to hide what had happened.

the officer across the desk cleared his throat. 

“mr. park… you’re sure you don’t want to press charges?”

sunghoon didn’t even look up.

“i’m sure.”

“even with the photos we took? the staff statement? this is the second time we’ve called for you this year…”

sunghoon finally lifted his gaze, eyes sharp despite the cut underneath it. 

“it’s not her, not all of them,” he said quietly, shaking her head. “i said shit i shouldn’t have too. i’m not pressing charges.”

the officer sighed, clearly frustrated but used to this.

“you know we still have to file the report, right? and when this leaks—because it always leaks when it involves someone like you and her—the public is going to rip her apart. they’re going to say she’s the violent one. you get how this looks, right?”

sunghoon’s grip tightened on the pen until his knuckles turned white.

he spoke slower this time, much deliberately. 

“...i don’t care what the public says. she’s not… she’s not an abuser. i work out, you do know that right? it’s impossible for her to hit me. people don’t understand how easy it is to leave marks when emotions are that high,” 

he paused, then added, almost under his breath,

“i’m not pressing charges, and i’m not leaving her here. i’m taking her home.”

the officer slid the last form across the desk.

sunghoon signed it without hesitation, even as his chest throbbed, and the bite mark on his arm burned. 

he just wanted to get you out of there.

——

“she’s ready.”

sunghoon stood up immediately, ignoring the pain shooting through his body. you stepped out of the holding room, eyes puffy and red. the second you saw him, your breath caught. 

the moment his eyes locked yours, his whole expression softened. the tension in his shoulders melted.

“baby…” he breathed.

you walked straight into his chest without thinking. his arms wrapped around you immediately, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing slow circles on your back. you buried your face in his hoodie.

“i—i don’t know why—,” you whispered, voice breaking.

“shhh, it’s okay.” his voice was low and gentle against your hair. “we’ll talk about it at home.”

the female officer cleared her throat softly behind you. 

“mr. park, we’ve explained the situation to her. the report is filed. you’re both free to go.”

sunghoon kept one arm securely around your waist as he turned slightly toward the officers. he gave them a small bow of his head. 

“thank you,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “thank you for taking care of her. i know this wasn’t easy. i appreciate it.”

the officers exchanged a quick glance—the kind that said they’d seen this exact scene before. “just… look after each other,” the male officer replied. “... and maybe keep the fighting to a minimum next time…”

sunghoon gave another small nod, then looked at you. his thumb gently wiped a stray tear from your cheek. “you ready to go home, princess?” he murmured, eyes only on you. 

you nodded, clinging to his side. he laced his fingers with yours, squeezing gently, and brought your hand up to press a light kiss to your knuckles. 

“i’ve got you,” he whispered. “always.”

——

“what the fuck?” your voice came out hoarse. “who the hell reported it? who called them? the hotel staff? your neighbour—? i told you i don’t fucking like her… why would they even—?”

you let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh, running your hands through your hair.

“‘sweet child actress yn ln abuses her boyfriend sunghoon.’ they’re going to eat me alive. fuck.”

your boyfriend stayed quiet for a moment, leaning his head back against the seat. the cut under his eye looked even worse under the streetlights. he reached over and gently took your hand anyway, threading his fingers through yours even though the same painted nails left marks on him just yesterday.

“i don’t know who called,” he said softly, voice tired but he’s trying. “doesn’t matter now. it’s done.”

you stared at him, chest tight. 

“it doesn’t matter to you because you’re not the one in the headlines.”

the words came out sharper than you meant to. sunghoon let out a slow breath, wincing a little when the cut on his lip stretched. 

“you think this won’t affect me?” his voice was low. “my fans are going to see my face tomorrow and lose their minds. management’s probably already blowing up my phone. but i’m not worried about the headlines or rumours now.”

he squeezed your hand tighter. 

“i’m worried about you. they’re going to twist this and call you crazy. they’re going to call you abusive and say all the shit without knowing the full story.”

you stayed quiet, pulling your hand away to cross your arms. “this is so fucking stupid,” you whispered bitterly. “i didn’t even hit you that bad.”

sunghoon let out a short, tired laugh that sounded more like a sigh. he touched the bruise under his eye and winced. 

“you didn’t hit me that bad?” he turned his head toward you, eyebrows raised. “baby, you bite my arm so hard they had to bandage it and scratched the shit out of my back. i look like i got jumped.”

when you went quiet, sunghoon’s heart skipped a beat—then he added more softly. “i’m… i’m not saying i didn’t deserve some of it… i—it’s fine, okay baby? it’s fine, i don’t mind it.”

you pressed your lips together, staring out the window so you wouldn’t have to look at the damage you caused. the guilt was eating you, but shame made you defensive. 

“sure it’s fine—but i’m still the violent bitch who beats her boyfriend."

the car went quiet again. sunghoon glanced at you for a long moment before reaching over to uncross your arms. he took your hand back, fingers firmly interlocked so you couldn’t pull away easily.

“look at me,” he said quietly. 

when you finally did, his eyes were tired but so full of that stupid, unconditional softness he always had for you.

“i don’t think you’re violent. i think we just have some issues… but i still love you, okay? and i’ll choose you over anything. always.”

he leaned in and pressed a careful kiss to your temple, lingering. 

“i’ll handle the rumours when they come. right now, let’s just go back to yours, take a shower, and sleep it off. can we do that?”

you nodded.

that night—sunghoon posted a picture of the two of you, and captioned it, the love of my life.

damage control.

He enjoyed the way eyes lingered on the line of his jaw and the curve of his shoulders, absolutely relishing the fact that he was the ultimate prize in every room. He had spent years letting people project their fantasies onto him, taking what he wanted and leaving them wanting more and he was perfectly content being the untouchable standard that no one could actually reach.

The man was perfect—top of his class, a star athlete and a face like that?

So imagine his utter confusion when he brought you back to his dorm after some party, he already had the script written in his head. He'd fucked you into oblivion, with precise movements and be devastatingly thorough, so he’d leave you a shaking and totally breathless mess beneath him. He had fully expected to wake up with you draped over him, perhaps already asking what this meant or clinging to his arm as he tried to get to his eight o’clock class. He was even prepared to be gracious about it, maybe buy you coffee before gently explaining he wasn't looking for anything serious.

But when the sun hit his pillow the next morning and the space beside him was cold. With no note, not even the lingering scent of your perfume, just a neatly made side of the bed and a closed door, Sunghoon didn’t know how to react.

After that came the ghosting.

One week became two and when two became three, Sunghoon found himself checking his phone during practice, scowling at the screen when he saw zero notifications from you. He'd see you in the quad, laughing with your friends and you'd give him this breezy nod as if he hadn't spent four hours exploring every inch of your body twenty one days, six hours, twenty minutes and twelve seconds ago. It was driving him insane, you hadn’t just bruised his ego, you being all blasé had sent him into a full scale identity crisis.

He was sitting in the library, trying really hard to think about anything other than you, when his phone finally buzzed and his heart actually thudded against his ribs.

Y/n: hey. u free tonight? we should link again💋

Sunghoon stared at the screen, willing his irritation to subside. Not even a "How are you?" or a "Sorry I've been MIA." You were just directly requesting for his body, as if he were a some kind of high end vending machine.

He typed back immediately, his thumbs flying across the screen with suppressed fury.

Sunghoon: That's it? three weeks of silence and you just want to ‘link again’?

Your reply came back almost instantly but all it did was make his blood boil even hotter.

Y/n: lol yeah. what can i say? you know how to fuck. my place at 10?

Sunghoon stood up so abruptly his chair screeched against the linoleum floor and drew annoyed looks from the nearby students but he didn't care. He was the most sought after man on campus and you were treating him like a convenient late night snack.

He told himself he should text you back no and protect his dignity by telling you he wasn't interested in being your booty call. But even as he told himself that, he was already packing his bag as his mind racing with the need to get you alone again and it wasn’t just because he wanted to fuck, he was now hellbent on making you look at him as more than just a good time. He wanted to break that casual, indifferent armor of yours until you were the one begging for a second date.

Or at least, that's what he told himself as he drove toward your dorm, his heart hammering with both wounded pride and an inconvenient hunger.

Sunghoon knew his pride was a dangerous thing but at this point his delusion might have been working overtime. As he took the stairs to your apartment two at a time, he adjusted the collar of his shirt and had managed to convince himself that he had cracked the code. She’s not indifferent—he concluded, you were playing a high stakes game of hard to get, you obviously just wanted him to work for it. Fine then. He'd play along but he'd win by making this night so earth shattering that you'd be making him breakfast in the morning.

He had a whole plan, which involved taking his sweet time with you, being romantic in a way that only really special people got to see. He was going to go heavy on the eye contact and sweet words just cause he wanted to see you crumble.

But the second he walked through your door, the plan practically disintegrated. You didn't even give him time for a "How was your day?" or a lingering gaze because you were on him immediately, with your hands already pulling at his belt and your lips kissing down his neck hungry and focused. He tried to reclaim the narrative, pushing you back against your bed to eat you out, too keen on showing you a level of devotion that would force a confession out of you.

He only managed to get his tongue on you for four minutes before you were hauling him back up, you clearly didn't want the slow build—you truly just wanted fuck.

Before he could protest, you somehow had him flat on his back on your bed. You straddled him, tossing your head back in a giggle before guiding his thick and already leaking cock inside your dripping cunt in one stuttering motion. Sunghoon let out a sound that sounded like he was choking, his head hit the pillow as he felt your tight heat sucking him in.

He looked up at you, expecting to see the usual worship every other girl or boy would be giving him by now, he expected the flushed cheeks with the wide eyed adoration he received from everyone else. But your eyes weren't really searching his for a connection, you were looking past him or down at where your bodies joined, with your face all intense and concentrated. You were too focused on the stretch of him filling you up and the way you could make yourself cum by bouncing on him so expertly.

He felt like an object. A very, very expensive tool being used for your personal satisfaction, like…a dildo.

"Look at me," he almost pleaded, his hands flying to your waist to try and slow your manic pace. "Come on, look at me."

You barely glanced down, letting out a huffed breath of a moan as you picked up the speed. Your pussy was incredible, gripping him so tight as you went down and spasming around his tip when you came back up with every downward thrust, it was already making him tilt dangerously close to his limit. His hips began to buck instinctively, attempting to meet your movements as he fought a losing battle against his own pleasure.

He was so conflicted he felt like he was splitting in two. On one hand, this was the best sex of his life—again, your body was a masterpiece and the way you moved was driving him toward an humiliatingly fast orgasm. On the other hand, the silence in the room that was only getting broken by the wet sounds of your squelching pussy and your heavy breathing mix with some occasional moans, was driving him mad.

Why don't you like me? the thought screamed in his head as he felt his cum beginning to stir. I'm Sunghoon. Everyone wants me. Why am I just a body to you?

He gripped your hips tighter cause he knew he was at the very edge and as he finally began to spill inside you, he let out a frustrated growl. He was cumming harder than he ever had, completely ruined by you once again but he couldn’t even enjoy it because he knew with a sinking certainty that as soon as he caught his breath, you'd be pointing him towards the door.

You shifted above him and looked down at your joined bodies, watching as the evidence of his orgasm pulsed out of your cunt and slicked your thighs.

You finally looked at his face and pouted at him. "I didn't even get to cum," you muttered, more to yourself than to him but then your eyes flicked to his like you just got them to focus. "Can I sit on your face?"

Normally, that would have been a hard line for him. The logic of his perfect persona dictated a certain level of decorum and the thought of eating his own cum out of your pussy was something he would have considered beneath him—a massive no in any other scenario. But as he looked at you and he saw the indifference in your expression, the way you were already preparing to stand up and end the night, like you were fine either way, that sent a surge of pathetic desperation crashing over him.

He didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay with you, he wanted you to need him, to realize that no one else could satisfy you like this, that no one was like him. He was one of one.

Without a single word of protest, Sunghoon reached up and used his large hands to manhandle you with a sudden urgency, he gripped your waist and pulled you off him cock with a squelch and down the length of his body until your stuffed heat was hovering directly over his mouth.

You let out a startled giggle as he settled you firmly against his face. The sound cut through his pride like a knife but he didn't care, by now he was too far gone.

He dove in with a fervor that was borderline manic, not minding the mess or the taste. The man just wanted to hear you moan his name instead of looking at him like a stranger. His tongue moved with so much focus, swirling it through the creaminess and the slick of your pussy, he was intent on erasing that pout and replacing it with the kind of broken screams that would prove he finally had a hold on you. He used his hands to spread you wide, his thumbs digging into your hips as he worked, worshiping the very part of you that treated him like an afterthought.

When your moans started bouncing off the walls of your room, his pride started to swell again, it was exactly what he had been fighting for. As you gripped his hair and your back arched when he latched his lips on your clit to suck it into his mouth, he felt that familiar confidence starting to return. He was doing it, he was breaking through that cool exterior of yours, making you lose control the way everyone else did for him.

But then, in the heat of your approaching orgasm, you let out a breathless sob. "Ah—Sungmin! Sungmin, right there!"

Sunghoon froze, lips stopping and all, just laying there for a beat with his lips just an inch from your pussy, he was struggling to process the name that definitely didn't belong to him.

Sungmin? He didn't even know a Sungmin.

He slowly pulled back even further, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked up at you. You were blinking down at him, your eyes glazed with lingering pleasure, looking almost confused by the sudden halt in his ministrations.

"What?" you asked in an airy voice. "Why'd you stop? That was so gooood."

Sunghoon's brow furrowed more he didn't just feel used like a dildo now—he felt completely anonymous.

He suddenly moved and shifted you once again, pushing you down his body so you landed between his legs, before he sat up to look right at you with wounded disbelief. "Who the fuck is Sungmin?"

Your eyes widened in a way that let him know you weren’t just fucking with him, you genuinely thought his name was Sungmin. "Oh…you—No way! Is that not your name?" You laughed right in his face.

"No," he answered slowly with anger and real hurt in his voice. "That is absolutely not my name."

He leaned in closer, his nose almost touching yours, his dark eyes searching your face for even a hint that you were joking. But you just looked back at him with that same casual, slightly bored curiosity.

"This is the second time we’re hooking up," he hissed, his grip tightening just a fraction. "I literally spent the last three weeks wondering why you weren't calling me and you're telling me you don't even know who I am? You don't know my name?"

The fact that the most popular guy on campus was currently having an existential crisis over a booty call didn't seem to faze you. In fact it was like you didn’t know he was the most perfect popular guy in your school. You just tilted your head. "I thought it started with an s. At least I was right?" You offered weakly.

"It's Sunghoon," he snapped. "My name is Sunghoon." He suddenly shifted away from you, throwing his legs over the bed as the wind was completely knocked out of his sails. He looked at you, his eyes shimmering with a vulnerability he hadn't shown anyone since his primary school days. The rejection was now existential and there was no saving him.

"Why don't you like me?" he asked, hoping you didn’t hear the way his voice cracked. He sounded less like the campus heartthrob everyone knew and more like a bewildered boy who had just been told his favorite toy wasn't actually his.

You reached out, your hand trailing down his neck. "What are you talking about? Of course I like you. I like that dick. It's easily the best I've had all year."

"No!" He flinched, batting your hand away and scrambling backward until his back hit the headboard. "Don't...don't touch me. Not if that's all it is." He wrapped his arms around his chest, looking genuinely pained. "Why don't you like me...as a person? Like, as Sunghoon?"

You finally sat up properly, pushing your hair back to giving him a look of unfiltered honesty. "Oh. Well, to be totally fair, I don't really know you that well."

"Well, no fucking shit! Because you ghosted me for three straight weeks after our first time!" he burst out, his voice rising in pitch. "I waited for a text. I was checking my phone every ten fucking minutes. I even walked past your building coincidentally three times in one day and you just...you didn't care!"

You let out an amused laugh and stood up, reaching for your discarded hoodie. "What did you actually expect? Honestly?" You pulled the sweater over your head, looking at him with an arched brow. "Let me guess. You wanted me to be the clingy girl, didn't you? You wanted to wake up and find me in your kitchen making you breakfast and looking at you like you're a god, just so you could get a nice little ego boost before you kicked me out to go to practice?"

Sunghoon opened his mouth to defend himself but his face flushed an embarrassed crimson. "I...I mean..." He stammered, the truth catching in his throat. "Yes! But—no! I mean, not just that!"

He looked away with his shoulders slumping. He couldn't even lie to himself anymore or look you in the eye. He had wanted the validation of your obsession but instead, he'd ended up obsessed with the fact that you didn't have any for him.

"I just wanted you to remember me," he muttered quietly, looking so deflated it was almost cute. "Is it really that much to ask for you to know the guy who’s making you cum?"

"Oh please. Making me cum is a stretch." You rolled your eyes at the wash he gasped. "No! Don’t do that. Your attitude threw me off today. That’s all. I don’t need you to tell me, I know I am a good lay."

"Whatever, bro."

Bro?

You stood over him, silhouetted by the dim light of the bedroom and leaned in close enough to see the real panic in his dark eyes. "Admit it," you said, "You only care this much because for the first time in your life, you're the one being looked past. It's driving you crazy that you can't have me hooked on you the way you want."

The silence stretched thin and his pride battled with the dangerous reality of the last three weeks, until he finally snapped.

"Fine! Yes!" The confession came spilling out of him in a desperate rush. "It drives me insane. I've spent every goddamn day wondering why I wasn't enough to make you want to stay. I don't know what it is about you—if it's the way you look at me or the way you actually don't—but I have never felt like this."

He reached out and curled his fingers into the fabric of your hoodie, to hold you there and make you hear him out. "I'm Park fucking Sunghoon," he whispered but it sounded like a plea. "People literally line up just to look at me and here I am, practically begging for a crumb of your attention. It's fucking humiliating. So please...just stop treating me like an object. Stop treating me like I'm just a body you can call up when you're bored or horny."

He looked up at you and all you saw was someone utterly wrecked. "Talk to me. Ask me a question. Ask about my day. Tell me your favorite color. You can’t just have me leave this room thinking that if I disappeared tomorrow, you'd just find some other guy with an 's' name to replace me."

You let out a low laugh and crawled back over his legs with a hungry kind of grace. "Well," you whispered, closing in until your lips brushed against his heated ear, "maybe you're just going to have to fuck your feelings into me, Sunghoon."

His breath caught at the sound of his name, his actual name finally leaving your mouth. You reached down, wrapping your hand around his soft length and started palming him with a soft touch until he was straining against your hand, thick and pulsing with a newfound grit.

Sunghoon looked up at you with so much desperate devastation, as if he was completely stripped of his usual arrogance. It was the most pathetic he had ever looked and ironically to you, it was the most attractive thing about him.

"You know," you admitted, your voice thick with sudden heat as you guided his tip to your entrance, "seeing you like this...so this ruined over me...it might be the first real thing I actually like about you."

A jolt of something dark and possessive ran in his gaze at your words. You began to sink yourself onto his cock again, the stretch making your eyes flutter shut while he tore your hoodie off you but you didn't get to find your rhythm.

Before you could even settle your weight, Sunghoon's hands shot out like lightning and gripped your waist with an unforgiving force. With something close to an animalistic growl, he flipped you over and your back hit the mattress with a heavy thud that knocked the air from your lungs. He didn't give you a second to recover, he was between your thighs instantly, his body was a nearly suffocating weight as he drove himself into you with a punishing thrust.

"You're a such a bitch," he snapped, sounding completely unhinged as he started pounding into your pussy. He was done being composed and rational, this was straight up anger fueled by three weeks of bruised ego.

He gripped your wrists and pinned them above your head, his hips slamming against yours so hard your headboard rattled against the wall. "Who the fuck is Sungmin anyway?" he hissed, his thrusts becoming even more frantic, more desperate to mark you. "Is he better than this? Does he fuck you this good? Call me his fucking name again while I'm pounding this pussy, I dare you."

You couldn't even get a coherent word out, your was head tossing back and forth against the pillow as your breath came in short sputters. Your brain had turned into complete mush, just entirely focused on the way his cock was ruthlessly bullying its way into your pussy. It felt like he was trying to reach your very soul with every bottoming out thrust, determined to leave a mark that no guy or anyone else could ever erase.

He adjusted your position mid stroke, pushing your legs up until your knees were pinned beside your ears and he was crushing you into a mating press. The shift in angle sent him even deeper inside you and had his cock hitting a spot that made your toes curl and your vision go white.

Sunghoon seemed to have lost his grip on reality entirely. As he pounded into you, his eyes were blown wide and hazy before he started mumbling to himself like a man possessed.

"What the fuck do you mean you don't like me?"

"I'm Park Sunghoon. I'm the Park Sunghoon. You have to like me...everyone fucking likes me. It's supposed to be easy."

His movements were unruly, from both his athleticism and now his ego driven desperation. He reached down between your bodies, making space for his thumb to find your swollen clit and begin to rub it with an unending pressure that synched with the pace he set with his hips.

The double assault was too much and you started trembling violently, the pleasure turning into something so sharp it almost felt like pain. "S-Sunghoon...oh fuck," you sobbed, hot tears finally spilling over as your body began to break under him, making you dig your nails into his back. It was too good—so good it was damn near terrifying.

"Shit, Sunghoon! Sunghoon—Fuck! It’s so deep!" you cried out, your voice finally catching on his actual name, over and over again.

Hearing you scream his name with that much genuine pleasure seemed to flip a switch in him and he responded with a groan, his pace becoming even more eager. "That's it," his sweat was dripping onto your chest as he looked down at your fucked out face.

"Say my name again. Forget everyone else. Just me. You're going to remember this name for the rest of your life."

Sunghoon felt you hit that special peak when the internal muscles of your pussy clamped down on him and you squirted a little, the wetness slicked his thighs but he didn’t let up. Driven by a crazed desire to be the only thing on your mind, he shifted again, leaning back with your legs over his broad shoulders so you were completely open and vulnerable, where you were pinned beneath his heavy body.

He thrusted back in, his thick cock finding that perfect angle again. You started screaming as your head was thrashing against the sheets as well cause you felt yourself teetering right on the edge of you cumming. "I'm close—Right there, Sunghoon! Please, I'm so close!"

But suddenly, the frantic pounding stopped and you seemed to think you’d gone deaf when the sounds stopped before you realize he’d slowed down his movements to an agonizing crawl, transitioning into a slow grind right against your most sensitive parts. He stayed deep inside you, rotating his hips in a way that kept the pressure constant but denied you the friction you needed to actually fall over the edge. You started shaking again, your hands clutching and slapping at his forearms while you begged him to keep going. "No, no, no—Sunghoon, don't stop! Please!"

He looked down at you, his face flushed and his eyes dark with a possessive kind of power.

"Say you like me," he commanded in a steady voice, despite his own labored breathing.

"What?" you gasped, your mind spinning.

"Say you like me or you aren't cumming," he repeated, his hips giving you one more delicious slow roll against your internal sweet spot. "Say you like Park Sunghoon. Not just my dick. Say you like me."

By this point, you're completely delirious and the sensory deprivation of the delayed orgasm is making you sob. You were sobbing and your whole body was vibrating with the need for release. You'd say anything to make him move again.

"I like you! I like you, Sunghoon, I swear!" you cried out, the words tumbling out in a broken rush. "I like everything about you, please just—just let me cum!"

The validation hit him like a drug, he knew you’re probably just cock drunk but that didn’t stop the triumphant smirk that pulled at his lips when he finally resumed his brutal strokes. He didn’t hold back now, hammering into you with everything he had and in no time, he had you screaming his name as you squirted your juices all over his cock, your body arching off the bed in a violent, shrill climax.

Sunghoon watched you cum as his ego was finally fed by the sight of you completely ruined by him, he let out a groan and pulled out, his own cum hitting you hot and thick across your stomach. He collapsed beside you, chest heaving, looking at you with the gaze of a man who finally thinks he's won.

Sunghoon was still glowing from your frantic confession, his heart finally settling into a steady but prideful thrum. He had done it. He'd broken the code.

"My favorite color is blue," you said randomly in an airy and exhausted voice while you stared up at the ceiling.

Sunghoon's head snapped toward you, a boyish expression spreading across his face. He felt a surge of warmth that had nothing to do with the sex. You were finally talking to him, you were actually giving him a piece of yourself, however small.

"Blue," he repeated, committing it to memory like it was the most important piece of data he'd ever acquired. "Okay. That's good to know. We should go on a date this Saturday."

He was practically beaming, already planning the most perfect, over the top date in history to ensure you never ghosted him again.

He reached out to touch your cheek, in an uncharacteristically tender manner.

You let out a mischievous giggle that made his stomach flip. "Okay, Sung—"

You cut yourself off, letting the syllable hang in the air for a painfully dramatic second. Sunghoon felt his entire body stiffen, he swore his heart stopped beating and he felt the familiar prickle of panic rising in his chest. His eyes searched yours, losing his mind over the fact that you’d forgotten his name again, wondering if you were about to shatter his heart all over again.

Hoon? Or...Min

"—hoon," you finished, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

Sunghoon let out a long breath of relief, his shoulders slumping as he realized you were just teasing him. He rolled his eyes, a huffed laugh escaping him as he pulled you into his side, tucking your head under his chin. "You're a brat," he muttered, though there was no heat in it. "A complete brat. But you're going on that date with me and I'm going to make sure you never forget my name again."

"Mm. We’ll see." You teased

"Please stop that."

nene’s note ── i was fully cackling when i was typing this cause not sunghoon in his kokomi teruhashi era. i’ve had shit wifi/network all weekend so i haven’t been able to complete any of my smaus😔 and i know i said i wouldn’t post but im sure you guys are used to my little white lies by now! enjoyyyyy, you know i love feedback!💋

taglist i ── @fancypeacepersona @usuallyunlikelyfox @starry-eyed-bimbo @strayy-kidz @mheretoreadff @bloomiize @xoenhalover @mamuljji @gabrielinhaa @ieatwon @rialikesbts @lunacrtk @dulcetnostalgia @lovel1z @kristynaaah @c1eod1n3 @kiikiisblog @plumdove @pqrkjyx @tojiworshipper @loverseon @yazmike @ravenslocked @enhxlvr @mangoescrazy @hees-h0e @stayalittlelonger143 @hazevelyn @sour-chaos @skzenhalove @mochi-mika @simjakersss1009 @isagistar @baedreamverse @jvngw0nlvr @deobitifull @prettygirlthings-world @ravenslocked @ricecakeslove @lenolalalie

© nephynes 2026

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anton loves being in control. he's always the one towering over you, making you feel small, teasing you. but deep down, you know he loves being on the receiving end even more. he can't help taking the lead whenever you're around even if it goes against what he truly wants. you know he'll only fall into his destined position if he's caught off guard.

you find him spread out on the couch watching tv, he doesn't even notice you approaching. you plop down against his side, facing him. he mumbles an absent greeting, eyes boring into the screen.

your hand goes over his clothed stomach, feeling the dents of his muscles with your palm. he glances down at your hand for a moment before looking back up. you continue feeling him up, reaching to feel his muscular chest for a split second. he's visibly distracted now. "wow." you whisper, slipping your hand under his shirt.

"how often do you work out?" you trace his abs with your fingertips. you already know the answer, but you'll do anything to hear his affected voice.

"few times a week." he breathes out.

your head rests on his chest, the bass of his pounding heart flooding your ear. your wandering hand trails to his bicep, squeezing it gently. "so big and strong," you murmur, "what are you training for?" you crane your neck to see his face. his eyes flutter shut every time you give him a squeeze. your palm leaves his arm and he regains consciousness, mouthing a 'huh' when he realizes you'd asked him something.

you reach down to grasp at his thigh through the thick fabric of his sweats, "you train legs too right? a lot of guys only focus on their upper body." you're barely doing anything and he already looks so bothered, your head rising and falling along with his heaving chest. you feel movement when his chin slightly bumps the top of your head, but can't guess if he's nodding in response or not. "you do?" you look up at him, he's staring down at your hand intensely, like he's trying to control it with his mind.

"yes." he says quietly.

your other arm that's been wedged between your body and the couch stretches to rest behind his neck, fingers threading through his hair as he lets out a loud sigh.

your hand creeps back up to his toned stomach, purposely skipping over the growing bulge in his pants. your nails drag against the hard-earned definition of his abs, you can hear his heartbeat quickening when your hand glides down, two fingers slipping just past the waistband of his sweats. they stay there unmoved, "should i start working out too? i feel like i'm missing out on something."

when he opens his mouth to respond, you press down on his lower abdomen, earning what sounds like a low groan mixed with his usual exhales. "are you okay?" you ask lightly, withdrawing your digits and patting the cloth of his waistband as if you're smoothing something.

"no, wait. please." he says hurriedly.

"please what?" if he wasn't so desperate you're sure he would have rolled his eyes. you wait for him to part his lips in response, eager to play your sound-drawing trick on him again.

but instead, his hand envelopes the back of yours. your fingers intertwined, when he guides you directly where he wants.

he retrieves his hand and leaves you in control.

"why can't you react normally when i compliment you?" you tease.

"your way of complimenting," he pauses, letting out a groan when you palm him over his sweats. "isn't normal." he finishes the sentence, his voice rising by the end of it when you grab his length.

"you don't like normal." you tug his sweats and boxers down together slowly, freeing his hard cock. he's already leaking.

he looks at you with wide eyes when you move like you're about to touch him, but then stop midway, raising your palm up to his chin.

your head motions towards your hand when he looks at you dumbfounded. you know he knows what to do, he just wants you to say it.

"spit." you order.

it's obvious he's fighting back a smile while he gathers as much saliva as he can in his mouth, before parting his lips and letting it spill into your palm.

you cup your hand, tilting it so the spit drips down his length.

you give him one long stroke, spreading the wetness so it coats his whole cock. his head instantly tips back against the couch, slack-jawed. you massage his tip with your thumb and he lets out a whimper. "you're so sensitive." you say.

he only nods. you begin stroking his length up and down slowly, earning breathy moans. "you like that?"

he huffs out a quiet 'yeah', biting his lip harshly when you grip the base of his cock. you sit up, your hand that was tangled in his hair reaching under his shirt, feeling for his abs again. "you're so hot, anton." you purr, stroking him faster. "i'd go to the gym with you if it meant you'd fuck me in the locker room."

"fuck." he ruts into your hand.

you egg him on. "it'd feel like this." your grip on him tightens, trying to simulate how you'd clench around him.

he lets out a guttural moan, bucking his hips up to fuck your hand. his eyes are screwed shut, you know he's imagining it.

you can tell he's getting close as his hips stutter, so you purposely slow the pace, stroking him lazily. "already, baby?" you coo at him.

he leaks more precum just from the gentle tone of your voice.

"please continue." he whines.

"you're so cute." you reach up to caress his cheek with your other hand while you continue to stroke him, building up the pace once again. he lets his head fall sideways to rest on your palm, absentmindedly nodding against it when you ask him another meaningless question about the gym.

you gently push his head upright, both hands now going to the base of his cock. with no warning, you duck down and lick the tip. "oh my god." he gasps. you stroke him faster, wrapping your lips around him. he whimpers, "please. faster."

you detach from him and look up to see his eyes closed as he thrusts into your hold, "tell me what you're thinking about." his cock twitches in your hands.

"i'm thinking," he's reckless now, his own hand going over yours to squeeze himself. "i'm thinking about you, fuck," he shuts his mouth to suppress a moan you're still able to hear, muffled. "us at the gym. you counting my reps, then taking me to the back." he whines when you twist around him.

"you wanna fuck me in the gym, baby? have all your friends hear?" you coo at him, or maybe at his dick when you lean down to place a sloppy kiss on the tip. his hips snap upwards, spilling his release all over your hands as he falls apart with a low moan. he's panting when you continue stroking him, milking him of everything.

he nods when you pat his thigh, telling him you're going to go get a towel to clean up his mess. "are you really gonna start going to the gym with me?" he calls out.

— JUNGWON

✶⋆.˚ “one more round!”, he says again and again 🫩 it gets to a point, Yang Jungwon, seriously. Baby, lock that pussy up, or else I can’t save you from that boy. 😭

✶⋆.˚ Jungwon. Has. The. Highest. Sex. Drive. 👏

✶⋆.˚ He is a very touchy person in general without even realising it most of the times. He likes to lean on you, hold your hands, have a hand on your thigh, gently pat your butt when you hug, sneak kisses behind the others’ backs.

✶⋆.˚ his favourite positions

✶⋆.˚ King of overstimulation and he has absolutely NO MERCY with you. He likes to see those tears running down your cheeks as you beg him to go slower. You shake your head, whining you “can’t take more”, and he nods with his lips pouting and shoves his cock right back into your sore cunt and says: “yes you can, one more!” — but you know exactly it’s not gonna be just ONE more. Jungwon is never satisfied for real and even when he’s already cum, give it a few minutes and he can get that thing back up without even trying.

✶⋆.˚ Jungwon is so shameless, he would deadass post a selfie he took while you were sucking him off. Like you’re down there gagging on his cock and he pulls out his phone and poses: 😙✌🏻.

✶⋆.˚ Jungwon is very big on foreplay. Sometimes an entire night passes without him being inside of you at all. But please do enjoy those sessions because once he sticks that cock inside of you, it’s over. Jungwon is a driller. And he doesn’t stop until he shoots his load inside of you.

✶⋆.˚ he laughs when he makes you squirt with his fingers. Not only because he finds it amusing but also because you’re a bit embarrassed by it and he enjoys that. Little devil he is.

✶⋆.˚ he LOVES when you put your legs over his broad shoulders (that’s literally what they’re made for duh.), like when he’s eating you out under the table while you wanted to get some work done and your legs are over his shoulders, trapping his head in between them. Or when he fucks into you in his favourite position, to butterfly one, and he himself puts your legs over his shoulders and wraps his arms around him.

He just loves feeling manlyyyy and strong, you know?

— HEESEUNG

✶⋆.˚ insaaaanely skilled. I’m not talking speed or strength, I’m saying he KNOWS how to FUCK like it’s a science. Like he studied it at a university.

✶⋆.˚ just the picture of a steamy makeout session with Heeseung with his hands tied behind his back as he lets you undress and touch him wherever you want. You press him down to sit on a chair as you climb on top of him and he looks up at you, pure sex written in his eyes.

“Fuck me like you mean it”, he says.

✶⋆.˚ he’ll def talk you through it and teach you a thing or two; something to remember him by, something only he has perfected over time

✶⋆.˚ Think about getting fucked against the balcony window/door by Heeseung. Your tits pressed against the cold glass as he holds your waist in place and pumps his cock into your pussy from behind, whispering praises into your ear.

✶⋆.˚ generally, Heeseung talks a lot during Sex. Lots of praises but he also kind of has a praise kink himself. “Do you like it?”, “Tell me how good does that feel?”, “is that the spot? Right here?”, “that’s my girl, tell me who’s making you feel that way?”, “are you gonna cum for me?”.

✶⋆.˚ he’s a cum play enthusiast. Like he loves the way both of your releases are mixing and he would definitely dip his fingers down your cunt and suck them off AND have you suck them off as well.

✶⋆.˚ Heeseung would definitely fuck you while being on a voice livestream on weverse. Just think about it, him putting a finger to his lips to show you to be quiet as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, burying his cock so deep inside of your little pussy, you’re afraid he’s splitting you in half. All while reading and responding to comments: “What I’m doing? Oh nothing, just… eh- stretching. Ahhhh, my voice? I think it’s a bit ugh- sore from … recording, haha.”.

— JAY

✶⋆.˚ your first time with Jay is so romantic. Like he’s pulling out the flower petals and candles and all that shit.

✶⋆.˚ do not underestimate his game though, especially with his fingers. He knows exactly how to curl them up inside you to hit that g spot. He finds it every single time.

✶⋆.˚ my aftercare king! I think very highly of Jay when it comes to romance and care, so I believe he’s very educated on how to properly take care of you after giving you the time of your life. That includes carrying you to the bathroom, letting you do your business while changing the sheets and all. He would bring you chocolates, water, towels, a heat pack, whatever you need.

✶⋆.˚ I think Jay is someone who can control himself quite well in public, no matter how much you try to tease him by literally eye-fucking him in public. It gets to the point where you start to believe it doesn’t even have any effect on him at all but… oh love. It does. Because once he’s pulled you into his room and closed the door, he turned around and slowly says: “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”, and he pulls you closer, hands cupping your face as he forces his lips onto yours faster than you can react.

✶⋆.˚ Jay kisses with DEVOTION. It’s not hectic, it’s not hungry, but PASSIONATE. You’ll feel like he’s kissing you like it’s his last kiss on earth and he feels as though he has to make it worth it. He twirls his tongue around yours lovingly, it’s truly romantic but the way his cock is growing against your leg has you pulled back into reality.

✶⋆.˚ He lovesssss spoiling you. Especially with beautiful sets of lingerie that he regularly orders (he knows your sizes exactly btw), and when he’s on tour he would ask you which set you’re wearing atm and have you send pics to him. Late at night, when he’s alone at the hotel, he jerks off to them, picturing you in front of him.

✶⋆.˚ I just can’t stop thinking about the way he’s got to be super skilled with his fingers bc he plays the guitar, right? Like the way he lets his fingers circle around your hardened nipples or your swolle clit is the exact same way he’s strumming the guitar haha.

— JAKE

✶⋆.˚ Jake is truly a puppy in human form when he’s needy. He will rub himself against you - his cheek against your shoulder and look up at you with the most desperate beg in his eyes.

✶⋆.˚ just imagine Jake giggling in between his moans and whimpers. It’s lowkey cute.

✶⋆.˚ despite the Jake!sub propaganda that I’m continuing to push, I totally agree that Jake might be the freakiest out of all of them. And that’s all about the things HE IS WILLING to do and try out. Roleplays, kinks, positions, places. Name them all and he cannot resist.

✶⋆.˚ thinking about sitting at a table with Jake in front of you and you straighten your leg out, resting your foot at his crotch. At first you just exchange looks and Jake’s eyes are clearly screaming: please, not here! But you just laugh it off and start rubbing his cock that is already leaking pre cum into his underwear through his pants.

✶⋆.˚ Sometimes when your pussy feels too good (which is usually the case) he can’t control his tongue and it sticks out as he fucks into you or you ride him.

✶⋆.˚ his favourite position is cowgirl. 100%. Not only because you’re in charge (sub!Jake propaganda) but also because Jake has a boob obsession and he gets to see them jump up and down and squeeze them in his hands or suck on them while you fuck yourself up and down on his cock.

✶⋆.˚ you LOVE to overstimulate the fuck out of your sunny boyfriend. When you suck or jerk him off, you love to continue even after he’s already cum and he’s definitely squirming under your touch, trying to get away from you. “Y/n… please… slow down, please…”.

✶⋆.˚ ✨ mommy kink ✨

✶⋆.˚ Jungwon and Jake graduated from the college of pussy eating with a degree in facesitting. He needs that, he needs to suffocate under you ( I wrote a whole oneshot on this, read it here). And he’s absolutely messy ; he’s a messy eater! Please make sure to soak his face because that’s truly his only purpose in life.

— SUNGHOON

✶⋆.˚ oh, he is a dangerous one when it comes to jealousy - sex. Because you will not see it coming. He’s someone who can mask his feelings incredibly well, so while you’re talking to, for example, a coworker, he will stand by your side calmly. He might even smile a bit — what a psycho. And once he gets you alone? He has you pressed against a wall, already sucking at your neck, a hand sneaked between your legs, fingers buried deep in your cunt as he whispers: “You think this was funny, huh? Letting me stand there and watch, Y/n? Does that get you off?!”.

✶⋆.˚ why is he so obsessed with your ass? Istg he loves doggy so much because he gets to slap your ass in the process, leaving his marks and all. He loves when he’s fucking you so good, you lose all your strength and collapse on the bed.

✶⋆.˚ another member of the drilling - gang. Rather than passionate, low thrusts he pumps that dick inside of you, preferable from behind (again with the doggy position).

✶⋆.˚ Sunghoon is MEAN. He’s going to bring out your worst sides and make you admit to all the unholy thoughts you’ve ever had about him or else he wouldn’t even touch you.

✶⋆.˚ the cockiest orgasm denier and edger you could meet. He would literally train himself to know exactly when you’re about to cum just to stop whatever he’s doing; if he’s eating you out, fucking or fingering you. He can feel your body tensing up and your high approaching and he suddenly pulls away, watching you with pure evilness in his eyes as you grunt in frustration.

He’s repeating that pattern until you’ve almost cum like three or four times until he finally lets you climax and he knows it’s making it even more intense.

✶⋆.˚ he’s always doing second rounds in the shower after having sex. He pulls you into the shower initially to “clean up”, but just moments after he has you pressed against the shower wall

— SUNOO

✶⋆.˚ he whimpers and whines and shakes as you jerk him off :)

✶⋆.˚ I think he’s into chubby thighs I don’t know I can’t prove it, but just the thought of Sunoo resting his head between your legs or seeing them jiggle as he fucks you seems very realistic to me.

✶⋆.˚HE is actually the sweetest when it comes to aftercare. He’s got it all prepared, whatever you need and right after he’s pulled out of you, he’s giving you that sunshine smile and is just genuiely grateful you know?

✶⋆.˚ he owns a lot of toys that he uses on you. Or even let you use on him. He has one of those big vibrators and when you jerk him off, you sometimes like to hold it against his tip and watch as he twitches and whines and cums without having your hands on him.

✶⋆.˚ He looks so pretty while you ride him. He can’t help but dig his fingers into your waist but he wouldn’t dare to guide you. You’re the person who decides everything.

✶⋆.˚ “are you ok???”, he asks with big, gleaming eyes after he’s made you cum so hard, a tear is escaping your eye. He doesn’t know it because it’s not in the speed he has or the length of his cock, but the way he thrusts. He has a very beautiful way of buckling his hips, almost wave-like, but that movement skill causes him to ram his dick along your most sensitive spots.

— RIKI

✶⋆.˚ he’s a massage oil enthusiast because he loves the way your tits get all shiny when he rubs it all over them.

✶⋆.˚ second highest sex drive!

✶⋆.˚ yeah he’d def fuck you on the dorm’s couch and it would bring him JOY to see one of the others casually sitting on the spot where he’s made you squirt the night before. He is DISGUSTING but you’re kind of as well.

✶⋆.˚ speaking of which: if you’re the vanilla type of person when it comes to Sex, you gotta look for a new guy because this one will have you match his freak. The best way to turn him on? Suggest something risky. Suck him off backstage, take his hand and slide it under your panties at dinner with your friends, jerk him off during movie night. He’s a public sex enjoyer.

✶⋆.˚ just thinking about makeout sessions on Riki’s lap as you grind yourself against his crotch.

✶⋆.˚ one if not the best kisser in the group, I just know it. Especially when he uses his tongue.

✶⋆.˚ he def sends you videos of himself jerking off when he’s on tour and demands some pictures, videos or audios in response to jerk off to.

✶⋆.˚ he likes to slap the tip of his cock onto your stuck out tongue. And he’s big on oral in general. He’s 100% going down on you, he especially loves to life you up and press you against a wall with your legs around his shoulder as he’s eating you out, but his favourite thing in the world is a blowjob. If your oral game is good expect a ring by the next day.

✶⋆.˚ one of his favourite positions is reversed cowgirl, especially when you’re bend forward and shake your ass up and down on his cock like a fucking bunny in rut. He loves SKILLED people, like genuinely, sex is very important to him and I don’t think he’d appreciate a passenger princess.

✶⋆.˚ just thinking about a hot makeout session with Riki that ends with the two of you stumbling into your room and him literally shoving all your books or whatever to the ground, lifting you up to sit on your desk and fucking you on it with your legs over his shoulders.

-

Let me know if you want a part 2 on this!

The look Jungwon gives you only when you're in real deep shit, the one that tells you he's not letting you off the hook or negotiating with you no matter what.

It's almost mean in the way only bright and soft eyes can be, like they're not meant to shape into anything that isn't cutesy. It's like he's scrutinizing your eyes as if they were little windows to your soul, no curtains blocking the light shining in. It's a look you've come to assume means 'danger ahead! Tread carefully.'

Mostly because if there's anything Jungwon hates, it has to be you hiding stuff from him. Whether it's silly things like the paper cut you got at work the day before, or how your tires need to be changed—you can handle that yourself just alright, but Jungwon wants to do it all for you—or the bigger, scarier stuff like doubt poking your chest when you spiral thinking about your future, unsure of what your place in the world is supposed to be, or if you have one at all. He hates it all. He wants you to rely on him, open up both your mind and heart to let him in. It's not a matter of needing him, Jungwon knows you're more than capable of doing it all yourself, you've done just that your entire life.

But that's all the more reason to rely on him if you ask him.

He wants to be your rock, your superhero in spandex like the ones you always make fun of when it's a Friday night and older Marvel movies are all that's playing on TV—he thinks being made fun of is okay as long as you're the one laughing. He wants to be your safe haven. A place where you walk in and feel the heaviness dissolve off your shoulders. He wants to be your home.

You shouldn't have to worry about anything because you've worried yourself sick over other people all your life, he needs to be your break.

Jungwon is your judgment free zone, he knows all your deepest secrets, no matter how embarrassing. He checks for spots you can't quite reach when you think something is off with your body—and he tells you that no, it's not a terminal illness, you'll be fine—no matter how disgusting. He has seen you dazed, hair messy and eyeliner somehow down to your cheeks after a night out. Even washed your face for you when you couldn't and patiently did your skincare because he knew you would complain about your skin feeling dry in the morning otherwise. He has made love to you in every way, in every position, no matter how unflattering. And he still loves you, still thinks you're the most gorgeous being walking on the sun dried tufts of grass that make up Earth. Though if you ask him, the sun is all the way down here and not up in the sky anymore, the one there is just a less impressive copy.

So when you keep things from him, it stings extra.

You lay underneath him, eyes as big as a fawn, staring right up into his scrutinizing gaze. And he's giving you that look, so you might as well start praying up to anyone who will listen.

"Oh? You like that?" Jungwon's hand slides under your shirt, slowly caressing the skin it was just tickling mercilessly moments ago. "Now, that's new. How come you didn't let me in your little secret until now, mhh?"

You don't really have a top 5 worst ways in which your boyfriend could find out you have an embarrassing, raging daddy kink, but if you had one, you imagine 'whimpering after he jokingly says 'be still and good for daddy' while play fighting' would be up there at the top.

"I… uhm. I don't….?" It sounds more like a question than anything else, and the wicked grin overtaking Jungwon's face only makes you want to shrink back into the mattress further.

He looks to the side, shaking his head slightly as his tongue pokes out between his teeth. The corners of his mouth are upturned, but it's not warm or playful like his smile usually is—it doesn't make the sides of his eyes crinkle like you love.

If keeping things from him is a no-go, outright lying might be ten times worse.

So, you bargain. "It's just… you know. Took me by surprise. You don't seem the type of—"

Your sentence is interrupted by a squeal of surprise as he grabs your thigh and drags you down the bed, crawling over you possessively. He reaches for your arm, bringing it to his lips so he can trail his way down with soft kisses, so unlike the energy emanating from him. He kisses your palm sweetly, it makes your head spin like you've been thrown off your balance. "I'm not the type to?"

He's encouraging you to finish your thought, but you have half the idea that by doing that, you'll only dig your grave further, so you choose silence.

"That's what I thought." Jungwon bends down, gaze still boring into your eyes and mouth hovering so close to yours you can feel the words before you can hear them. "I'm the type to do everything for you. I thought you knew by now."

Of course, you do. He makes it pretty clear every waking hour of the day. But the little title that has heat rushing right to your cheeks just thinking about it, is something you never found the courage to be open about, even to Jungwon. As silly as it sounds, the thought of giving someone else so much power, complete control over you feels impossible, even when it's what your deepest and most hidden self craves most.

"I know. It just felt silly and—oh."

"Keep talking. Don't let me stop you." Jungwon noses the skin of your neck, taking in your scent like he might forget it if he doesn't, like it's the last chance he has to do so. Jungwon's love is often like this, given to you in subtle but passionate gestures, ones he bestows onto you as if he might bleed out if he doesn't.

Your insides stir, heavy and hot in your lower stomach and the air almost feels too thick to breathe in, but you push through. Even when Jungwon's hand slides lower and lower until it reaches your shorts—if you can even call them that. "I thought, what if you don't like it. What if it makes me seem weird."

"I like what you like." You visibly shiver when he speaks into your ear, the warmth of his breath ticklish. He gently nibs the shell of your ear.

"But what if—"

"No what ifs, pretty girl. What you want, I give you. What you dream of, I give you." He looks down at you, his elbow bent to support his head. "Your deepest fantasies, I fulfill. Is that clear?"

You nod, looking at him with such sincerity and vulnerability in your eyes he almost coos at the sight.

"Good girl." Jungwon kisses your temple, and you don't know if it's the action itself or the praise, or maybe a little bit of both, but your muscles are more relaxed and your chest feels all fuzzy. The hand playing with the waistband of your shorts finally slides to cup your heat through your panties, his dainty but long fingers molding perfectly to your mound. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, gently smiling into the little nibbles he teases your skin with. They're hardly painful, his teeth not leaving marks behind. Not that they need to, your form quivering underneath his body is already enough. "Let daddy take care of his baby, yeah?"

You cover your face with your hands, embarrassed by the effects his words have on you. It only spurs Jungwon further though, because soon his hand is pulling your completely soaked panties to the side, slowly teasing your folds with his digits. "You're all shy, but she's so happy to see me." He smiles against your cheek, then dips down to litter your neck in open mouthed kisses, happily sighing when you adjust yourself to give him easier access.

"You're so lame," you say from behind your hand still covering your face.

"Oh baby, don't be jealous. You're both my princesses." Jungwon finally dips his fingers lower, teasing your dripping hole slowly with just the tips. He collects the wetness seeping out of you and spreads it all over your pussy, not even trying to dull the obscene sounds his action make. "You're so fucking wet, it's like she's talking back to me," he slurs his words, quiet as to not interrupt the ones coming from below. "And you wanted to deprive me of this?"

He keeps playing with you, relishing in the little sounds both you and your pussy make. His fingers move slowly, deliberately avoiding your clit.

"Jungwon, please," you whine, but the way his lips shape into a grin you can quite literally feel against your neck tells you he wants something from you first. And you have an idea of what it is.

"Wrong name, try again."

Of course.

You're not ready to give in yet though, so you decide to push his buttons for a little longer. "Please?"

The last thing you hear before Jungwon yanks his hand out of your shorts, much to your despair, is a venomous tch that has you seriously reconsider your previous actions. You know him well, so you know if you want to come you're gonna have to abide by his rules. Still, that doesn't stop embarrassment from growing in your stomach more, and more.

His movements are a lot less careful, making quick work of his fitted shirt and sweats, his boxers coming right off with them. Maybe it's the sight of his leaking cock, standing tall and angry against his lower abdomen, or maybe it's just wishful thinking, but despite your mind knowing better, your heart hopes for a few seconds that maybe, just maybe, you have irritated him past the point of punishment.

Jungwon grabs your shorts and panties, sliding them off your legs with a single movement and discards them somewhere on the hardwood floor of your room. It's fast and unceremonious, but the second his warm hand touches your thigh again you understand you got it all wrong. "That's okay. If you're too shy to call me daddy, I'll just have to fuck the shyness out of you."

You mewl when his hands slide up to the back of your knees, pushing them against your chest. The position is a little awkward, but you believe that's exactly what Jungwon is going for. "Here, hold your own legs up like this. Yeah, exactly like that. See? You can be good when you wanna be."

The stretch in your thighs burns, but it's close to nothing when the realization that Jungwon is making you hold onto your legs so you can't hide your face anymore sets in. Sneaky.

Jungwon, on the other hand, admires you with no reservation. Your cunt is completely exposed, like you've handed it to him on a silver platter, and now you have nowhere to hide. He has half a mind to sink down on his knees in front of the bed and eat you out until you're raw and cannot physically come anymore, but he said he would fuck you and he keeps his promises. Besides, he wants to see your face when you finally give in and call him daddy for the first time.

His knees dip into the mattress, the bed creaking with the weight put on it, but your own heartbeat thumps so loud in your ears you miss it. Jungwon takes his sweet time in reaching you, nothing like the urgency in his movements when he undressed you both. He knows you're waiting with bated breath for his next step, it's just another way to punish you for your disobedience. His hands roam your naked body, and he pushes your legs into your chest further, displeased with your loosening grip on them. He gives you a wordless, pointed look, and your hands immediately hold onto the back of your thighs harder.

"Pretty," Jungwon compliments your cunt, glistening and dripping right onto the bed sheets. His gaze is carefully scrutinizing every single part of you, but you know better than to try to shy away. "So, so beautiful. I don't know why you wanna hide from daddy."

"I'm not hiding," you whine in protest. Because, really, you're trying your best not to.

He grabs his length, leaking precum at the thick tip. You want to get a better look at it, so you try to take a peek, your back falling on the mattress again after a mere moment of struggle. That earns an airy, honest giggle from Jungwon, and it has your insides fluttering. It's so easy for him to get a reaction out of you, whatever he does makes you all tingly, whether it's because of fondness or lust. And by the quick look you got at his cock he's not much better off, you can't recall a time you have seen him this red and wet, ready to be inside you from just a little kissing and touching. Which is saying a lot, because Jungwon gets flushed quite easily.

The thought makes you feel a little less embarrassed.

Jungwon taps his cock on your clit a few times, each one sending a jolt of pleasure right through your spine. That tiny amount of stimulation is all he gives to your poor neglected bundle of nerves, and he moves his thick tip downwards, rubbing it repeatedly between your folds. All you can do is throw your head back, teeth poking your bottom lip in an attempt to silence the sounds threatening to spill out of your mouth.

He sighs in delight as your juices coat him, mixing with his precum. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his mouth twisted in a way that makes a dimple pop up on his cheek as he keeps rubbing his cock on your cunt, loving the sight of your nails digging into your thighs to leave tiny half moon indentations. Look at you doing the marking yourself.

"I already take care of you, make sure you're well rested, handle whatever I can to take the load off your shoulders," Jungwon says, never stopping his movements against your heat. "I fuck you so good all the time, take my time with your pretty pussy when I have the chance. Take such good care of you both." He falters for one second, when he accidentally lowers his tip just a smidge too much and ends up rubbing it over your clenching hole. He keeps his cock there, pushing in so slightly you almost miss it, just to take it out and repeat the motions. "I wanna be a part of all your fantasies, would do anything to make you come as hard as I can." He sinks into your heat more this time, just enough to let the stretch of his tip pushing in register for you. "So why won't you be a good girl for daddy and address me by my title? I know you want to."

Jungwon's hips slowly push his cock into you, his mouth open in a silent moan as inch by inch you welcome him into your snug cunt. He's been obsessed with the feeling of that first thrust inside you ever since the first time he slid into you, it's the one thing he always takes his time with, even when he's mad or frustrated and ready to pound into you until you can barely feel your legs anymore.

That's usually what the dangerous look he gave you earlier entails, but this time it's different. His pace doesn't suddenly increase once he fills you to the hilt, reaching so deep inside you, any more would feel like too much. He keeps it slow, but steady, enjoying the way you clench against him, enjoying the view you're giving him with your body bent to accommodate him. He fucks you deep, the position you're in allowing him to reach so deep inside you stars dance across your vision. His pelvis rubs against your clit so deliciously a tiny bit of spit dribbles down your chin from the corner of your mouth. You can feel every inch, every vein, every ridge, and it's mouthwatering.

It's so good, you can feel yourself building up to the peak you want to reach so badly in no time, forgetting why you're in the position you are in the first place.

"Jungwon—" you whine, and he stops his thrusts almost immediately, his deliciously thick length pulling all the way back, his tip the only thing left in you. The loss is unbearable, and you wiggle your hips as if to coax more of his cock back into you again, all to no avail.

"No, no, no baby, who am I?"

You feel like crying, and a single tear does slip out of your eye, gravity making it fall somewhere on the bed. Jungwon doesn't care though, not when you refuse to give him what he wants to hear.

He moves his hips teasingly, as if to bait you to give in, he fucks you gently with just the tip, over and over again, careful to not give you too much. "C'mon baby, I know you can do it."

You clench around his tip, silently begging for more. More that will never come if you don't give in, and you know it. It's on the tip of your tongue, and you want to give in so badly.

So you do. "Please, daddy."

Your voice is low, barely above a whisper, but Jungwon hears you loud and clear, and it's enough for him.

His hips plunge against yours, and you gasp when you feel his thick cum fill you up so unexpectedly. He barely moves, coaxing spur after spur of seed as he empties himself inside of you. Your walls flutter against his sensitive cock, and your hips twitch when he suddenly moves his thumb over your puffy clit, rubbing rough circles on it while he keeps fucking his own cum inside you.

"Good girl, milking me dry like this, yeah baby, keep doing that." His voice is rough and thick, sending pleasure right to your belly. You feel so full, so warm, as his movements never falter, even when his cock is raw from overstimulation.

"Daddy, 'am close."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby. Coming again, need you to come too." Even more cum fills you up at the name, and when Jungwon buries himself all the way in, thumb still circling your clit, and presses down with his other hand right on the bulge on your tummy, searing white blindness hits you for a moment as you come undone around him. His moans sound beautiful as you rhythmically clench around his thickness in your ecstasy, his thumb still working you through your orgasm.

It keeps going for longer than it ever has, your toes bent as if it's the only thing keeping you grounded while waves of pleasure keep crashing through you.

Jungwon slows down, but never pulls out of you completely, keeping his cum plugged inside of you. You're not holding onto your legs anymore, and his body gives in on top of you with one last teasing thrust, crushing you a little with his weight.

"Hey," you protest, still in the process of catching your breath.

"Mhh." He nuzzles his forehead against yours, uncaring for the sweat sticking you together. "That was good."

You giggle, a light feeling washing over you, spreading from your chest to your limbs in soothing waves. "Yeah, I think you liked me calling you daddy a little too much."

You feel lightheaded, in a good way. And in Jungwon's arms, you know you're as safe as you could ever be. It fills your heart with longing, even if he's right there with you.

Jungwon wraps his arms around you, spinning you both around on the messy bed sheets, quickly switching up your positions so you're on top of him, your head resting right on his chest.

“ah fuck, stop struggling so much…” 

anton’s face was pressed against the ground, the taste of dust and dirt thick on his tongue. the pebbles and gravels scraped and rubbed against his skin—giving him light cuts. his arms were twisted behind his back, held down by doyun’s knee as the boy grunted and groaned in mocked annoyance. 

“what should we do this time, hm?” youngji hummed, crouching down beside anton’s head. she twirled a pair of scissors between her fingers, her other hand gathering anton’s strands between her digits. 

receiving no reply, she lets out a scoff before gripping anton’s hair, forcing him to tilt up. anton winched, his teeth clenched to swallow back a moan of pain. 

“are you mute—? fuck, i asked you a question…” she clicked her tongue in irritation, doyun’s knee dug harder into anton’s back. a choked sound left his lips, but he didn’t speak. “should we shave his head this time?” jiwoo mused, suppressing back a giggle as she stood by anton’s body. 

youngji let out a small sigh, dropping his head back on the harsh ground with a thud—giving light slaps on his cheek in mockery. “then, our anton wouldn’t be so handsome anymore.” jiwoo nodded in agreement and crouched beside youngji.

“what do you think, yn?” 

youngji’s powerful voice cut through the air—she turned to you, in fact all three of them did, her gaze laced with amusement and anticipation as the scissors twirled between her fingers. you felt your breathing hitched—stood at a distance, far from where they had anton pinned against the ground.

anton didn’t lift his head but he felt the shift. the sudden weight of attention being momentarily redirected. 

jiwoo tilted her head, eyes glinting with curiosity. there’s a sly smile on her face. “yeah, yn. should we shave his head?” behind anton, doyun snickered, glancing at anton before his gaze fell on you. “maybe you have a better idea?” 

silence. 

you swallowed the lump in your throat, fingers curling at your sides. your stomach churned in  unease and sick feeling knotting in your gut. silence only continued to stretch between you and them. 

you were never part of this—at least, not really. you never joined in, never laughed, never mocked, never punctuated questions, never threw the first punch. 

but you never stopped them either. you were just the same, if not worse. 

you just stood at a distance, observing, sometimes looking away when it got too much. when the kicks landed too harshly at anton’s ribcage, when doyun punched anton in his stomach so hard that he puked, when the laughter rang louder than anton’s scream in agony. 

when anton stopped struggling and just laid there—grunting and groaning in pain as he held his stomach with his bruised arms, accepting whatever they decided to do to him that day. 

your hands trembled slightly at your sides. you told yourself it wasn’t your fault—that it wasn’t your place, and there was nothing you could do. 

youngji let out a soft hum before sighing, her interest waning. she lifted anton’s head by his hair once again to get a good look at his face—before dropping his head back onto the ground. “ahh… you’re lucky this time anton,” she mused, propping her chin on her palm, staring down at the boy.

“you should thank yn, hm?” a lazy smirk tugging at her lips. anton barely reacted, he didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just breathing shallowly underneath doyun’s knee. 

jiwoo clicked her tongue, bottom lip tugging into a mocking pout. “that’s right, anton! if it weren’t for her, maybe we really would’ve shaved your head.” she let out a delighted giggle, poking at his back with her long nail and pressing into the bruises.

doyun scoffed, gathering a handful of his hair and yanking his head up, forcing him to face you. “go on,” he cooed, shaking anton’s head lightly. 

anton’s jaw clenched, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and pain. he didn’t resist nor did he struggle—he just let his head hang limply in doyun’s grip, sweaty dark strands falling over his forehead.

he didn’t look at you either.

youngji leaned in, tucking two fingers under his chin to tilt it up so he was facing you. her gaze flickering between the two of you. “come on, anton. say it. thank you, yn,” she said, voice saccharine and mocking.

his eyes locked into yours and that was when you properly saw it—the condition of him, his lips were bruised and split, dried and fresh blood cracked at the corners of his mouth. a deep cut stretched along his cheekbone. the corner of his eye tinged an ugly shade of purple from being punched. his hair disheveled from how they had grabbed and yanked it. 

but it was his eyes that held something that unsettled you the most.

they weren’t just exhausted or in pain. they were just… hollow, yield… looking at you with no emotions—not with anger, not with desperation, not even with resentment. this was worse. you hoped that he at least begged them to let go or go easy, so you know there was still a tinge of hope within him.

because this—this empty and quiet acceptance meant that he had long since stopped expecting anything different. kindness. 

his swollen and dry lips barely parted, voice came out cracked and weak. 

“thank you, yn.” that meaningless gratitude, spoken not because he believed that it was truly thanks to you, but because he had no choice. nothing else to give, 

your fingers curled around the hem of your skirt, only glanced down at your shoes, swallowing the hard lump in your throat. 

the weight of his stare remained pressed against you, but you didn’t dare meet it again. 

doyun scoffed, muttering something incoherent under his breath before shoving anton’s head back down. his body hit the floor without resistance, without so much as a grunt of pain. he stood up and stretched his arms, cracking his back. “ugh, i’m fucking hungry…”

youngjin hummed in satisfaction before standing up as well, dusting her hands together. “that’s nice, isn’t it?” she smiled, looking down at anton. “be kinder to us, anton, we’ve tolerated a lot for you.” she continued before crossing her arms over her chest, walking away, followed by doyun.

jiwoo chimed, stepping over anton’s limp form as if he were nothing more than an empty sack. she quickly followed the two friends behind. 

you finally let out an exhale, a breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding. for a long moment, you remained still (but you knew you couldn’t for too long, they’d get mad). the back of the gym never sounded so quiet, so empty. 

you never realised how much their voices and laughter filled the space until they were gone—leaving the faint hum of air and the uneven rhythm of your own breathing. that being louder than anton’s ragged breathing. 

he still hadn’t moved. curled in on himself like a caterpillar, his body limp like a discarded ragdoll. the rise and fall of his back was so faint you almost wondered if he was even still alive. hadn’t it been for the… gratitude he uttered to you just now. 

your fingers twitched at your sides in hesitation. but before you let yourself think twice, you walked towards and crouched down beside him. 

a pack of tissue. and a single decorated bandage. 

you placed it carefully within his reach, just above the tips of his fingers—though you weren’t sure if he’d even take them. 

“‘m sorry, chanyoung,” 

your gaze flickered over his form one last time, your fingers brushed over his forehead, pushing a few strands of his dark, sweat-dampened hair away from his skin. anton didn’t flinch, he blinked slowly. 

you swallowed hard, then without another word, you stood back up. and walked away. 

like always. 

——

it wasn’t long after that that anton transferred schools. 

on thursday, he was there—quiet, bruised, hollow-eyed. entering class an hour past lunch break with a bloody uniform and beaten face and a zipped mouth.

then the next, he was gone.

no goodbyes, no rumours, no explanations from the teachers. 

people didn’t even bother to ask where he went, what happened, nor tried to search for his whereabouts. your friends were sad—not because he was no longer here, but because they’d have to look for a new punching bag to mess around with. you didn’t ask where he went either, because as much as you wanted to, you figured it’d be better to not.

they said ignorance is bliss.

and soon enough, he faded from your (and everyone else’s) thoughts—anton became just another ghost of the past, another forgotten casualty in a place that swallowed people whole. despite his absence and people knowing the reason why, like you, they didn’t try to stop the new victims being bullied. 

nothing changed. the cycle continued, faces changed, and life moved on. 

you graduated with a clean record to your name (thanks to jiwoo’s family), left seoul for good, cut off any and every connection you had from that hell-place you called high-school. changed phone number, went off-radar. no reunions, no nostalgia, no looking back.

you built a new life in a quieter side of korea where they couldn’t reach you. 

——

“hey, hey—don’t cry,” you murmur, crouching down to nauen’s level. your hands gently wipe away her pearly tears threatening to spill from her doe, innocent eyes. “teacher’s here, hm?”

the school entrance is quiet and empty now. all her friends (your students) have already gone home, picked up by their parents and school vans. the usual chatter and laughter have long since faded. outside, the sun is beginning to set.

nauen sniffles, rubbing her eyes with her tiny fists. hiccuping, her chest heaves with each sobs. “b-but my daddy said he’d come… he promised…” 

you offer her a warm smile, brushing stray strands of hair away from her face. “i know, i know. sometimes parents get just a little bit caught up with work… but i’m sure he’s on his way.” you cup her small cheeks to brush away her tears with your thumbs, dapping her damp cheeks with your sleeve. 

she nods, but her lower lip trembles. she hugs her bunny tightly against her chest. 

you glance at the clock—you’re supposed to clock out almost an hour ago. her father is really, really late. 

a small sigh escapes your lips as you reach for your phone in your pocket, ready to dial her father’s number given by the school. “i’ll call him, okay? wait—”

“naeun,” 

you freeze. 

the voice is deep and steady behind you, familiar in a strange way that makes your stomach twist. you see as naeun’s teary face instantly lights up. “daddy!” she exclaims, her small feet pattering against the wooden floor as she runs past you. 

you turn slowly.

“daddy’s sorry,”

and there he is.

tall, broad, and standing in the doorway that almost blocks all the light from the outside. the sun stretches his shadow across the floor, dark and reaching. 

anton bends down, effortlessly catching naeun who runs into his arms. she giggles as he lifts her up in the air, carrying her. a soft chuckle rumbles from his chest as he smooths her hair back, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head—and an even gentler apology from picking her up late. 

for a moment, he looks like any other father picking up his daughter from school. 

your eyes remain on your socks, chest tight, lungs refusing to expand properly. 

it’s a suffocating kind of stillness, the kind that wraps around your ribs and squeezes until they break and crush. the kind that reminds you of something you don’t want to remember, of all the years you tried to repent and bury deep in the back of your head. pretending like it never existed. 

your skin prickles, your fingers twitch slightly in your lap as you stand up. your nails playing with the skin around your nails, picking and tearing. the weight of his gaze is nothing like before—no bruises, no blood, no tired, hollow eyes staring up from the ground.

he stands tall, taller than you, bigger than you, and looking down. 

“teacher! my daddy’s here!” naeun’s voice is bright and excited and innocent. you have to force yourself to look up, meet his gaze that is already on you, smile untouched, steady. it’s almost polite.

“sorry for holding you back, teacher.” anton finally says, his voice is smooth. you swallow, nodding politely. you lick your lips to wet them, muttering a small, it’s okay. 

you wonder if he remembers you.

your tongue feels heavy, the words tangled in the back of your throat. anton doesn’t move, humming as naeun wraps her arms around his neck, wanting to go home and freshen up, it dawns on you like a realisation that he’s married. how long—? naeun’s five, which means when he was in his early 20’s? but he’s not wearing a ring and you guys are only—you remind yourself that it’s none of your business.

the thought should bring relief, that maybe he too, has moved on from it all. that maybe the past has finally loosened its grip around him. maybe anton finally gained his confidence back and finally settled down, a pretty wife and a cute daughter. 

yeah, maybe it… it didn’t matter anymore. this encounter is nothing more than a fleeting moment of the past brushing against the present. just a coincidence, just luck.

but then anton shifts naeun higher in his arms, his finger pressing against the fabric of her dress. 

“what do you say naeun?” 

“hm?” the little girl blinks up at him, arms draped around his neck.

“you should thank your teacher.” 

you freeze—the colours around you seem to drain, sucking the air out of the world.

it’s the words, and his voice.

the mockery crawls over your skin, slither into your ears, and wraps around your throat like a noose. the same words from years ago that carry the same unbearable weight. back then, youngji’s voice had dripped with amusement, jiwoo’s giggle rang in your ears, and doyun’s grip forced anton’s head up. now it’s just silence between you and anton, and his daughter.

your stomach churns, bile rising in your throat as you force your fingers to remain steady. not like you’re not expecting it, but he still remembers. of course, he does. of course he remembers. without a doubt.

why wouldn’t he? he was bullied. he was bullied. bullied by you too. 

“come on, say it, thank you, teacher,” he repeats, tone patiently and waiting. 

nauen, oblivious to the look on your face, turns to you with a bright smile. “thank you, teacher!”

you nod. you swallow, but your throat is dry.

“that’s nice, naeun.” 

——

“...does it hurt?” you carefully asked as you dabbed the cotton ball soaked in sterile solution against his split lip.

anton didn’t flinch, nor did he move. the boy in front of you just sat there—knee drawn up against his chest, back pressed against the cold tiles of the abandoned bathroom. his bruised knuckles (from fighting back) rested limply on his lap. his gaze casted downwards.

you weren’t sure if he even heard you. but you continued cleaning his wounds nonetheless.

“...i… i hope it didn’t hurt too m—” your sentence was cut off. anton moved your hand away from his face—the bleeding had mostly stopped, but the wound still looked raw—. his cold fingers, stained from blood that belonged to his very own, wrapped around the curve of your wrist. 

he finally lifted his gaze and you felt something in your chest tightened. he wasn’t looking at you like he was grateful for your hospitality. he was looking at you like something else entirely. 

“don’t do this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from screaming earlier. when he choked out his saliva from doyun’s constant kicking to his stomach, and his sides. 

you swallowed, breathing shallow and held back. “... do what?” 

anton exhaled a quiet laugh before leaning his head back against the wall. groaning as he cracked his neck. tilting his face up towards the dim light flickering above, 

then, without so much as a single glance at you, he shoved your wrist away before pushing himself to his feet. 

anton stepped past you, heading for the door. but just before leaving the bathroom, he mumbled under his breath, 

“pretend.”

——

you stretch your arms above your head, groaning as you arch your back slightly. the classroom is quiet, save for the rustle of papers and the soft scratching of your pen against the worksheets as you finish marking the last of them. stacking the papers into a folder. 

your eyes avert to the clock. huh, much later than usual—but at least you can rest over the weekend. 

letting out a small sigh, you begin packing up, slipping activity books and folders into your bag and wiping down your desk. the rest of the school, except a janitor, had emptied out long ago—the hallways silent, and the playground dark. 

as you reach for the zipper of your bag, the classroom door suddenly creaks open. 

you blink, turning your head towards the door.

it’s not one of the staff (that hasn’t clocked out too) asking what are you up to, nor is it the janitor excusing herself to clean the classroom. it’s not one of your students crying, suddenly telling you that they’re actually still in school, waiting for their parents.

no, no, it’s not that at all.

anton stands in the doorway.

you straighten up—fingers stiff around the little zipper. his face is partially obscure in dimness. he isn’t moving, just standing there. 

your breath comes shallow, swallowing the lump, and trying to not think much of it—you force yourself to speak.

“naeun… she—uh—she went home by van today.” 

anton tilts his head slightly, a light smile tugs at the corner of his lip. 

“yeah. i know that.”

“oh,” you murmur under your breath, barely audible, lips pressed into a tight line. that’s all you can say. your body stiffens as his eyes stay on you. you can’t ignore the way your neck prickles, the way shivers run down your spine. 

the silence stretches. 

“...do you need something?” you finally manage to force yourself to say something, voice careful and measured. 

anton doesn’t answer right away. he just blink. once, twice. slow, deliberate. 

then, he steps inside, sliding the door shut behind him. 

the sound of the door closing is deafening—a finality that sends sharp thrills across your body. your fingers curl around the strap of your bag.

it’s almost funny how your classroom—your safe space that was just filled with childish laughter and giggles from this morning—can suddenly feel too small and eerie. the walls lined with crayon drawings and alphabet posters cave in—the wooden floor beneath you feels wobbly. 

you feel like 17-years-old you again. standing in the corner of the bathroom, too scared to move, too afraid to speak, as your friends dunked anton’s head into the toilet bowl and unbuttoned his shirt cold. 

but now it’s not the five of you anymore. just two. no youngji. no jiwoo. no doyun. just anton. 

a bully and her victim. 

you force yourself to breathe, manually, inhale and exhale quietly. his gaze doesn’t waver, doesn’t falter as he steps towards you. his hands stuffed into his slacks. 

you swallow hard. the memory tastes bitter. 

“chanyoung…” his name doesn’t sit right on your tongue, after over ten years—

his lips twitch—so you do remember—not quite a smile or anything. “i thought you’d forgotten,” he hums, amused. anton knows you’ll remember. how can you not? you and your wonderful friends brought hell from above to earth. specifically catered for him.

“...i… no,” you shake your head, your voice comes out quieter than you mean to, anton eventually stands by your desk, towering over. anton looks around your nicely decorated classroom, eyes gleaming as his eyes land on his daughter’s table. 

“so… a kindergarten teacher?” his voice is light and casual like he’s catching up with an old friend. you force a nod and a smile. “yeah.”

anton hums, dragging his fingers along the edge of your desk. “i wouldn’t have guessed,” he muses, tapping his fingertips against the wood. his gaze flickers back to you—and the clay arts made by your students, including naeun. 

“what subject do you teach?” he asks. your fingers shift and play with the strap of your bag, rubbing the fabric between your fingertips. “...arts.” you answer.

you shouldn’t be having this conversation. not with him, out of all people. you don’t know nor do you want to know why he’s asking you all this—you don’t want to know why he cares (if he does), you don’t want to know how he finds you after all these years—and how you never realised you have been teaching his daughter for over a year. 

but one thing you do know, is that this isn’t right. and you’re scared. 

so you stand up, the chair behind you making a screeching sound against the floor. “i ha—” he cuts you off, letting out a small sigh. the only way to leave this classroom is by passing anton. anton tilts his head, almost lazily, as he brushes his hair back. 

“sit back down,” he says, voice light as he nudges his head up. there’s no mistaking the command beneath it. 

your grip on your bag tightens as you stand still. you don’t obey,

“do they not do background checks on teachers?” anton continues, taking another step forward. you take another step back, the back of your knees brush against your chair. your breath catches. 

“they do,” you manage to say, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you don’t like where this is going.

anton hums, his bottom lip tugging out slightly as if he’s considering. “huh,” he mutters. “strange. guess they missed something, then.”

“where are you going with this?” 

anton’s lips curl like a sneer, a smirk. he shakes his head, muttering something underneath his breath—you bitch, 

before you can react, anton sweeps everything off your desk with one forceful motion, sending papers, stationeries, clutters, and even your students’ crafts scattering to the floor. he wraps his hands around your wrists, tight and unrelenting.

a gasp rips from your throat as the breath is knocked out of you. anton slams your back against the desk as he looms over, pressing down just enough that you can feel the weight of him above you. “ah—” you yelp in pain, struggling and trying to wrench your wrists free. the edge of the desk digs into your back.

anton watches you with an unreadable expression across his face. “you don’t get to act surprised, yn,” he murmurs, voice low and steady. his fingers flex and squeeze around your wrists to make you wince. “i’ll show you what it feels like,” 

he gathers both of your wrists in one hand, his body between your legs. “i never—” your breath stutters, lips trembling. “you never what—never bullied me?” he snickers, like it’s funny. he clicks his tongue. “you’re just the same, yn. if not worse,” he continues, shaking his head.

anton uses his free hand to tug on the collar of your shirt, before bringing his hand down in a swift motion—unbuttoning and sending your buttons flying on the floor. your breath catches in your throat, a strangled sound escaping as the fabric loosens around you. “chanyoung, please—” 

tears pool and spill down along your cheeks, shaking your head in hopes that it will wake him up—realise that… what he’s doing is wrong, and just because—just because you were there, ten years ago, you’re not a—

“i don’t get how someone can just watch someone else get beat up to pulp.” he sighs, shaking his head like he’s disappointed. disappointed in you. “you didn’t even bother. i think i’d prefer if you had just fucking joined them, yn,” he darts his tongue out to lick his lips. his eyes gleaming with something cruel as he watches your reaction. the way your tears fall on your desk, and your chest heaving with upcoming sobs and panic. “at least they had the fucking balls, but you…”

anton shakes his head and flashes you a smile. “it’s okay. i’ll show you what you should’ve done, ten years ago.” he murmurs before bringing his free hand up in the air—

his rough palm cracks against your cheek with a sharp, ringing snap. the force of it jerks your head to the side, a stinging heat slowly blooming across your skin. the impact pauses your tears.

your breath stutters—eyes squeezing shut for a second too long before snapping open again. the taste of copper spreads on your tongue where you’ve bitten down too hard. 

anton exhales, shaking out his hand. “yeah,” he mutters. more to himself than to you. “that’s about right.” he continues before bringing his hand up again to slap you. harder this time. so hard you think you’ve lost your hearing. the force rattling through your skull.

you think you stopped breathing too—vision blurring at the edges. there’s a faint ringing in your ears like you’re underwater. anton lets out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head. “still with me?” 

you don’t move, swallowing hard the saliva that gathers at the back of your throat. “this is nothing compared to what i went through, yn.” he shakes his head before roughly pulling down your bra, exposing your tits; nipples perky from the cold air kissing your skin. a stark contrast to the heat of anton’s presence.

you’re sobbing at this point, shaking your head in resistance but anton knows how shy you can be. 

afterall, you’ve always been a bystander rather than a participant. just a watcher from the sidelines, never speaking up, never stepping in. 

he lets out a humorless chuckle as he pinches your nipple, and tugs it hard, earning a yelp out of you. “you were always so good at staying quiet. what happened to that?” 

your sobs choke in your throat, breath hitches in shallow gasps as you shake your head more violently. words died out long ago, along with your five senses from the slappings. anton doesn’t waste any time, it’s late, and he needs to get back home to his daughter.

he tugs his finger around the hem of your pencil skirt, pulling it down swiftly in a motion. “chanyoung, i—i’m so—i’m so sorry,” you sob, looking at him through your blurry vision. it must’ve entered his one ear, then left on the other, because anton completely dismisses your apology.

his fingers run along your clothed slit—where, out of your body’s natural response, you feel yourself getting wetter and warmer down there. you cry harder, do you want this? no—no you don’t—your body can’t tell apart a lover and a rapist. it can’t tell—

“wow, you bitch…” you hear anton let out a dry chuckle as he tugs and pulls down your panties, exhibiting your glossy, pretty cunt. he glances at you, with your eyes shut, and lips pressed into a tight line—”are you seriously getting wet from getting raped by the boy you used to bully?” he shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek.

“i’m not… i’m not,” you murmur. you’re not a bully for god sakes, you’re not like them. there was nothing you could do back then—and if you could turn back time, you definitely would’ve changed it all—interfere and fight back, you know better now—so that you wouldn’t be where you are now. writhing and struggling underneath him.

without a warning, anton shoves two digits into your entrance, pumping them in and out and coughing a moan of surprise out of you. “ah—!” your back arches slightly, struggling to release your wrists from his iron grip. 

he continues to finger you, rough and deep, fingers curling to press and fuck your spongy spot. your walls clench and twitches around his fingers, choking on your own sobs and saliva. “you don’t get to forget, yn,” he murmurs, his eyes focusing on the way your cunt squelching and soaking his fingers. “not when i remember everything.” 

you are reaching your climax, but you refuse. you don’t want to give into what he wants. 

he must’ve noticed. anton’s eyebrows furrow in frustration as he increases his pace, shoving his fingers deep, that he might as well just fist you. his actions become faster and rougher in an effort to make you squirt—in which you do seconds after. 

his gaze flickers upward to your face, tilting to the side in hopes you can merge with the desk underneath—ashamed and embarrassed—catching the way your breath stutters, chest rises and falls unevenly. “look at that…” he muses, almost fascinated as he brings his fingers up and to your face, using his thumb and pinky finger to squeeze your cheeks, just enough that your lips part slightly. he shoves his two fingers—that were just deep inside your cunt earlier—into your mouth, making you taste yourself. “even now… you just take it.” 

your fingers twitch against his hold as your resistances muffled. you whimper as he lets go of his grip around the curves of your wrists, winching as blood rushes back to your hands, leaving behind an ache. you try to move them, but they feel too heavy.

you hear the metal clinking as he unbuckles his belt, and unbuttons his pants. but you can’t bring yourself to look. you’re too tired—too exhausted, body limping from merely getting fucked by his fingers. you don’t want to imagine further. 

“so tell me, teacher,” he drawls, lifting your legs over his shoulders. anton wraps his hand around his big, throbbing cock, precum pearling at the tip of the head. he angles his cock against your entrance. “how do you resolve bullying in your classroom?” he brutally forces and slams his cock—his full length—deep into you. “do you just watch too?” 

you gasp outloud, hands gripping the end of your desk. your head tilting up, back arching. your breath hitches, stuck somewhere in the middle of your lungs. you let out a moan, shutting your eyes tightly, “fuck—!”

anton doesn’t bother giving you the time to adjust yourself around his cock. he forcefully drives his cock in and out of your cunt, biting his bottom lip hard at how tight you are. you’re gripping him like a vice—are you a virgin? anton wants to laugh. 

“does doyun fuck this pussy too?” he grunts, shifting both of your legs over one shoulder. you shake your head violently. the thought of—the thought of getting fucked by doyun rushes over another disgusting round of tears. “use your words, you bitch,” anton groans, sliding his other hand that’s not gripping your ankles, up till they reach your tits. he fondles, digging his nails into your flesh. 

“no… h—he doesn’t,” you manage to exhale between your sobs. you hear anton hums in something—amusement? disbelief? satisfaction?—as he rears his hips back and then sunk into you, again, again, and again. 

anton leans down, bringing your legs along as he thrusts deeper, cock reaching deeper inside your cunt than before. you’re defenseless as he squeezes your cheeks in his hand, parting your lips like a duck. anton thinks of other ways he can make use of those pretty lips. but for now, this is enough. you flutter your eyes open, seeing anton’s face—scrunched up nose, his upper lip lifting in a sneer. 

he’s disgusted of you,

he gathers a blob of saliva in the back of his throat before tilting his head slightly—then he spits on your mouth. he watches as it trails down the corner of your lips, down along your cheek. 

the way you look underneath him—cheeks red and flushed from getting slapped earlier, mascara runs down your cheeks along with your pearly tears, his spit, your snot—he thinks momentarily that it was all worth it. the bullying was paid for this—your suffering. the way you completely wrecked underneath. 

it feels like a perfect retribution. a pretty one, a really pretty one.

anton clicks his tongue, brushing his thumb over your wet cheek, smearing the mess further.

“fuck,” he rasps. he revels in the ecstatic feeling of your walls clamping down around him. his hung balls swinging and hitting your pussy repeatedly, all while his hand kneads your cheeks. your tits bounces along with every mean thrusts, what a sight for sore eyes.

you tell yourself that you can’t feel anything, that if you close your eyes tight enough, the moment will pass like another bad dream. but with the way your body shakes with every ragged breath and every single time the head of anton’s flushed cock knocks on the entrance of your womb—it disappears. 

shame curls in your stomach (besides the bulging head of anton’s cock) like rot, cloying and stinky, seeping into your lungs. you want to go back to the day behind the gym and kill him. kill him, and then those three motherfuckers, and then yourself.

but just like there was no undoing that—there was no undoing this.

your back slides back and forth on your desk, unintentionally tightening up some more around him. anton watches as you breathe through your mouth as he presses his weight on you, rocking and slamming his cock everywhere it could reach. 

frowning, he leans down to slam his lips on yours. teeth clashing—you taste a taste of copper in your mouth. you don’t know who it belongs to, but there’s a sting on your lips so—

you don’t react—detach yourself internally as anton kisses and ravishes your lips messily, a lot of tongue, and saliva, and the taste of blood. he nibbles on your bottom lip, sucks on your tongue, and fills your throat up with his saliva, and swallows on your muffled sobs.

you think it’s your fault that he turns out this way.

the bystander effect. 

maybe if you were a little braver then—

“do they know their beloved teacher was a bully?” he chuckles drily against your lips, tilting his head to bite and nibble your cheek. he moans against your flesh, sucking it. “does naeun know, yn?” he hums, grinding and slamming his pelvis against yours. 

you force yourself to shake your head, tears drying, body dehydrated. “...no…” your voice comes out dry and hoarse. you feel anton smiling against your cheek as he nods, muttering a small, that’s hypocrisy.

he pulls back, winching—eyebrows pinched together, forehead creased—”fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he murmurs under his breath, chasing his high. you shake your head, choking on your sobs. “please, chanyoung, please,” you don’t know what you’re pleading for anymore. 

he scoffs, thrusts becoming more sloppy. anton frowns as he moves to wrap his hands around your throat, fucking you like a sex doll, like a fleshlight. your eyes roll back, moaning, breathy, and pitchy. “fuck you, yn—i fucking hate bitches like you the most—” he grunts. 

anton thinks he’s going to cry. 

your head tilts up, anton presses his thumb over your windpipe, just enough for you to feel the pressure—but not murdering you entirely yet. if he wants to kill you, he doesn’t want you dead. he wants you to suffer.

he chases his high, your cunt wraps around him so tautly that he doesn’t want to pull out. you want this to end so badly, you’re in so much pain, everywhere. you just want this to stop, already. 

anton finally lets go of your throat when he sees the colour draining out of you, letting you breathe. your chest heaves violently, lungs burning as you suck in desperate gasps of air. the rush of oxygen makes your head spin, but a brutal thrust from him makes you wish that he would’ve just killed you. tear your insides and kill you. 

“i hate you so fucking much,” tears swell in anton’s eyes socket, he shuts his eyes tightly as he nestles his face into the curve between your neck and shoulder. you don’t feel his warm, hot tears running down your skin. 

with a few more strokes, and languid thrusts losing its rhythm—he ejaculates inside, ropes of hot, thick spurts of cum deep inside of you. filling you up nicely, filling you up full. he nibbles on your skin with a soft groan.

for a moment, his head plays that specific memory of you years ago standing there in the empty classroom past school hours—crying and trembling, taking hits after hits, slaps after slaps, and kicks after kicks. all because you told anton to use the other exit when leaving school—just so he wouldn’t cross paths with the others. you got beaten up and it was all because of him—

“i loathe you, yn,” he murmurs against your skin as he empties his balls inside you. almost incoherent you thought he confessed. you don’t move, don’t flinch. he doesn’t pull out. 

you’re merely breathing, like you’re trying to keep yourself alive. 

indeed it’s true, that the abused will become the abuser. 

your head tilts to the side in defeat, eyes falling on naeun’s desk.

perhaps you will too. 

——

“hi, yn right?” 

you looked up from your textbook, a shy smile formed on your lips. “hi, yeah.” 

“i’m youngji,” the girl with the long hair hummed, sticking her hand out for a handshake. you took it. it lingered a second longer, before she pulled away. “where are you from?” she sat on the table next to yours, ignoring the fact that she sat on someone’s notebook, and the way the boy flinched and looked down on his crumpled pages.

you noticed—but didn’t comment on it. “ah, seongnam.” you replied, nodding. she mused, humming in acknowledgement. “that’s nice…” youngji murmured, leaning back as she supported herself with her arms. 

“you know, i have two other friends that will absolutely love you…” 

you beamed, warmth quickly spreading through your chest. making friends on the first day—what luck! maybe you are as charming as your mother told you to be,,.

“really?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. so innocent.

youngji grinned harder, smiling ear to ear. a glimmer in her eyes that you mistook for kindness. 

“mmhm!” she said, nodding excitedly. “you’ll be perfect for us! we love girls like you. so cute and dainty.” 

would things be different then had you chosen another approach? 

your eyelids feel puffy, swollen from the tears shed last night and the ones that you haven’t let fall today. the mediation has gone on for nearly two hours already and noticing your distress, your legal team called for an early recess.

you never wanted it to come to this. that’s what you continue thinking, as you pad out into the hallway that leads to the restrooms and the elevator back to the lobby. if you’re honest with yourself, where you stand now was purely inevitable. you’ve sat in denial for years and today is merely the culmination of what feels like a lifetime of burying your head in the sand.

you’re trying to prioritize the rational components of your divorce like salvaging your financial independence, the house you made a home, any sense of dignity left in your weakened body. heeseung hasn’t made it easy. you knew he wouldn’t. if you thought he’d be an understanding, compassionate life partner, then you wouldn’t have waited this long. you wouldn’t have needed to involve lawyers.

despite trying to keep a level head, you’ve been an emotional wreck. it’s understandable given the nature of the proceedings but it doesn’t help that heeseung has never made anything easy for you. he knows exactly what buttons to push and as much as he became obsessed with figuring out which ones made you crack, you became addicted to breaking for him.

the building’s air conditioner is on too high for your comfort, shoulders hunching forward as you shiver. you’ve been chewing skin off your lower lip since you got up, without even realizing. the taste of blood meets the tip of your tongue but it’s irrelevant to your senses. the air is stale and it stings in your nose when you breathe, sensitive from crying so much over the last few days.

you hear a door creak open, panic fluttering in your throat and your chest feels tight all of a sudden. you start towards the washroom, seeking privacy. you have an hour to compose yourself and you realize taking a few deep breaths in the hallway isn’t going to be enough.

‘running away again?’ he calls for you and you know it’s him without having to turn your head. yet, you do. you spin around, stopping in your tracks. you’ve been staring at him all morning, or rather, trying not to. yet without the conference table separating you, it feels different. the visceral ache in the pit of your stomach returns, nausea and longing so tightly intertwined that you can’t tell the difference anymore.

you wish you didn’t feel the urge to walk towards him but you know you’re not strong enough to run the other way. he makes the choice for you, like he’s always done, closing the distance with fewer steps than it would’ve taken you. his palm cups your elbow with the exact amount of force someone would use on a wife who he knows isn’t brave enough to draw attention to herself. heeseung’s other hand finds the nape of your neck, fingers curling as if to hold you there, but you both know different. you won’t try to flee.

‘why’re you crying?’ he purrs, shifting to cup your cheek instead, thumb swiping away a tear that slipped. a flaw in your poorly constructed armour. ‘this doesn’t have to change anything, baby, you’re still mine. just say the words, i can make this all go away.’ he soothes, letting go of your elbow to grab your waist, his fingers sinking into the softness there.

you swallow a whimper, forearms pressed towards your chest and fists curled, resisting the urge to lean into him and reciprocate his touch. ‘you’re not supposed to talk to me…’ you murmur. your legal team advised you against contacting your husband in any capacity, much less interacting with him directly. you shouldn’t be alone with him, especially not like this.

the scent of his cologne wraps around you like a cage as he dips his head, nose brushing the curve of your cheek. your nerves feel like they’re on fire. his grip on your waist tightens, his breath feels hot on the sensitive skin of your neck like he’s succeeding in crawling back under your skin. maybe he never left.

‘we don’t have to talk,’ he smirks against your neck, you can feel it, his firm chest colliding with the swell of your breasts as his hips press flush into yours. your nails dig into your own palms, squirming in his grasp because your desire to accept his touch is greater than your will to push him away. you hate yourself for it.

heeseung’s lips part, pressing an open mouthed kiss right below your ear. tingles race down your spine, face heating up as he does it again, dragging towards your jaw. ‘see, we’re not talking.’ he whispers into your mouth as he kisses you, slowly at first. his tongue swipes along your lower lip, the tang of your skin and the salt of his saliva merge. your stomach churns and your fingers spread out, palms splaying across his chest before sliding upwards to loop your arms around his neck.

your brain feels blank. the discomfort in your diaphragm melts into your lower abdomen as your fingers interlock behind his head, trapping yourself against him. when he pulls back for a moment, his exhale becomes your inhale as he tilts his head to connect your mouths again. ‘heeseung…’ you whimper. his tongue down your throat silences your protests briefly.

his hand glides from your waist to wrap around your back, holding you tighter against him. he shifts his feet, pushing you towards the wall so your back rests flush against it. his fingers tangle in your hair, the kiss growing hungrier as his teeth sink into your bottom lip. he grabs your thigh and lifts it slightly towards his hip, opening you up to him a fraction more. the hardness of his erection pressing into your core snaps you back to reality. pain, hurt, and a pinch of rational thought flood your mind, planting your palms against his chest and pushing hard. he barely budges.

‘we can’t do this, hee, i can’t do this’ you protest, a surge of emotion rising in your throat as tears well in your eyes again. you want to, more than anything. you want him to hold you again, to cling to him and never let go but the knowledge of what he did rests heavy between you, the scales forever tipped in his favour.

his grip in your hair tightens, pain blooming where the strands pull tight and you wince audibly, eyes squeezing shut as your nose scrunches in response. ‘is this about her?’ he barks like an accusation, as if he’s not the one responsible for ‘her’.

‘god, you love punishing me.’ he patronizes, eyes rolling and the disgusting flicker of annoyance that crosses his features reminds you who you’re dealing with. who you expected to treat you with love and respect, to uphold the vows he read off a page full of words he didn’t write as your mind had wandered to the conversation you’d had with your parents the night before. a boy. not a man.

‘supposed to be mine..’ you whisper, dark lashes drooping with moisture, unable to meet his gaze as you bare your deepest wound for him to see. it’s still fresh, still bleeding, and you don’t trust he won’t stick the knife right back into it.

‘what?’

your heart clenches. he knows, he just wants to hear you say it.

‘s-supposed…’ your breath shudders, shamefully. ‘be me.. you gave it to her.’

you can’t say it. pregnant. your tongue can’t form the word. it nauseates you. you barely knew her name, let alone who she was. seven digits, one paragraph. ‘just thought you should know.’ funds gone from your bank account. you’d been willing to look the other way. the money is heeseung’s, he’s the one who earned it, his name is on the statements. you’d nearly gotten it off your mind when the notification came through on your phone, every word following the previous making your pulse race higher and your heart sink lower.

heeseung’s nostrils flare he takes a slow, controlled breath as though he’s trying to contain his anger. a reaction he shouldn’t be allowed to have, yet does, because if he’s denied something, that just makes him want it more. you’ve already heard him plead his case. he said he did the ‘right’ thing by sending her money for the procedure. he said he’s the one that convinced her. he said he didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to hurt you, that he hates the way she handled it. that you didn’t deserve that.

‘i know, baby.’ he says, and it catches you off guard. you’re used to accusations, to threats, not wisps of validation buried in layers of manipulation and displaced blame. it tastes sour, but still, you swallow.

‘it should’ve been yours.

—

there’s only the sound of heavy breathing and rustling clothes as heeseung pins you against the inside wall of the bathroom stall. his fingers find the fly of your trousers, undoing the top button first before dragging the zipper down fast.

the tips of his digits glide along the seam of your panties, grazing the heat of your folds hidden beneath. he groans against your neck, pressing firmer until his fingertips part your slickness. he circles your clit once, twice, applying more pressure until your breath shudders and what was left of your composure cracks.

‘hee…’ you moan, eyelids fluttering as he dips lower to tease your velvet entrance.

‘baby… you’re so wet for me…’ he whispers in awe. you feel warmth rush to your face, squirming as he lowers the hand that was holding your waist to your hip. his grip tightens there, halting your movements as he pushes his middle finger just slightly into you.

even through the haze of your arousal, you remember why you’re here. not because you love heeseung, not because you need him more than anything, even though those both might be true. you’re here because he broke an oath, at least once that you can prove, and you found yourself unable to look past it. the wound too deep to heal on its own when he keeps opening it back up every time he looks at you.

‘we don’t have time..’ you mumble, reminding him that you’ve been fooling around for who knows how long during a timed recess.

‘yeah,’ he grunts. ‘you’re right.’ this may be the first and only time you’ll hear those words come out of your husband’s mouth in that order. he flips you around so your breasts are flush with the stall. he shimmies your pants down further, attempting to part your thighs roughly with his palms but when there’s too much resistance he yanks your bottoms down to your ankles.

‘hee, wait- i-‘ your protests get caught in your throat as he pushes in, burying himself halfway. you cry out and he clamps a hand down over your mouth. his hips rock gently, easing himself in a little further before he’s able to finally bottom out. your muscles clench and burn, stretching wide to accommodate his size. your breathing is rapid against his palm, fingers curling against the thin wall as you press yourself against it tighter like you’re trying to escape his cock.

‘stop acting like you’ve never taken me before,’ he grits out, tugging your hips back with one hand so your ass bumps against his pelvis. you sob into his palm. it’s been so long and he’s hitting so deep. your toys don’t reach as far when you’re bundled in bed alone, trying to remember the times he made you feel this way and forget how he broke your heart. ‘you’re always so dramatic, fuck, i can’t…’

you imagine if he hadn’t trailed off that he would’ve said he can’t stand you. you’re left unsure whether he knew well enough to bite his own tongue or was distracted by the way your inner walls tighten around his shaft as he thrusts in, withdrawing just to watch your pussy flutter like its afraid he’ll leave it empty.

he begins to set a steady pace, shallow strokes that leave him panting and make your hips tilt instinctively backwards for more. ‘that’s it, baby, you can take it,’ every few thrusts he plunges deeper, your moans vibrating against his palm but when your cunt starts to pulse around him, he slows down again. you really hate him so much.

‘do you want it?’

you’re not sure what he means at first, mind going numb as he brings you towards the edge of release yet again just to deny you. heeseung’s nose nudges at your jawline, affectionate enough but you know him better than that.

‘yeah, you want it, don’t you?’ his fingers find your swollen clit, stroking the bud just right to make your stomach clench and your knees wobble.

‘here’s what you’re gonna do,’ he grits out between thrusts, hips slapping against your asscheeks obscenely. his rough, intentional movements grow sloppier with each pass of his cock through your pulsating channel. ‘gonna to walk back in there-‘ he muffles a groan into the nape of your neck, clearly holding himself back from reaching his peak just yet. ‘tell them… you made a mistake.’

you did make a mistake, you realize that now. you should’ve held your ground out in the hallway, should’ve never let him get you alone like this. you push back against him, his length hitting your sweet spot just right and it makes you mewl involuntarily. you’re ashamed but that doesn’t mean you can’t finish, too. you ignore his attempt at coercing you into changing your mind, your eyes falling closed as you focus on chasing your high.

‘come on, baby, we could be a family.’ he murmurs against the shell of your ear as his fingers work quicker, coaxing your climax forth a little more before they dip below where you desperately need them again.

you don’t remember why you’re fighting him anymore. your whole body yearns for what he’s been depriving you of, but you can’t even name it. you’re not sure he can ever repair what he’s broken, but you don’t think anyone else can either.

‘o-okay,’ you sob, reaching for his wrist to guide his hand back where you need. he obliges for a few brief strokes before he chooses to wrap his forearm around your waist instead, locking you in place as he fucks into you mercilessly.

‘that’s all you wanted?’ heeseung snarls in your ear as he uses your tight cunt like you’re nothing more than a hole to him. ‘you’re so fucking pathetic.’

He doesn’t do slow or sweet. He pins you down with one hand around your throat, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, and pounds into you like he’s trying to break something inside. Deep, punishing strokes that make your eyes water and your voice crack. He’ll pull your hair, slap your ass, spit in your mouth, and call you the filthiest names while he’s buried balls-deep, laughing low and cruel when you sob his name like a prayer.

He always makes you cum, multiple times, actually, because he gets off on watching you fall apart for him. But the second he finishes (usually down your throat or painted across your face), the switch flips.

He pulls out, wipes himself off like you’re nothing, and tosses you your clothes.

“Get dressed.”

If you try to linger, if you even breathe the word “again” or “stay,” his expression goes ice-cold. Those pretty eyes turn dead.

“I told you before we started, this is it. One time. I don’t do seconds. I don’t date. I don’t cuddle. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings.”

And if you cry? If you beg or ask why he’s so cruel?

He just laughs, low and mocking, while he lights a cigarette or checks his phone.

“Crying already? Pathetic. You knew what this was. You spread your legs for me anyway. Now stop embarrassing yourself and get the fuck out. Don’t ever text me again thinking I’ll wet my dick with the same pussy twice. What’s done is done.”

He’s merciless. No soft aftercare. No fake promises. Just the brutal truth: you were a hole for the night, and now you’re disposable.

The girls always leave in tears, mascara running, thighs still shaking, heart shattered, because Jungwon doesn’t just fuck your body. He fucks with your head too, making you feel like the most desired girl in the world for thirty minutes and then like absolute garbage the moment he’s finished.

And the worst part? He never feels bad about it. Not even a little. Because Yang Jungwon doesn’t catch feelings.

He only catches new pussy.

And the moment Jungwon lays his eyes on you during Heeseung’s party? You know you’re in for something good tonight. 

The bathroom door is barely locked, the bass from the party still thumping through the walls like a second heartbeat. Jungwon has you folded in half on the marble counter, your back pressed against the cold mirror, knees pushed all the way to your chest, ankles hooked over his shoulders. Your dress is bunched uselessly around your waist, panties ripped and dangling from one ankle.

He’s pounding into you with brutal, deep strokes, hips snapping hard enough that the sound of skin slapping skin echoes louder than the music outside. His cock is thick, veiny, stretching you open with every punishing thrust, the head dragging against that spot that makes your toes curl.

Jungwon’s hand is wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur at the edges. His pretty face is twisted into that signature smirk, sweat dripping from his dark hair onto your tits.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growls, slamming in particularly hard, watching your pussy swallow every inch. “Such a dirty little slut, letting me bend you like this in someone else’s bathroom. Bet you let anyone who looks at you twice wreck this cunt, huh?”

He expects the usual, whimpering, begging, tears already forming because he’s being so mean, so rough.

But you only let out a soft, breathy “Ah—fuck…” when he angles his hips just right and grinds against your clit with every thrust. Your eyes stay half-lidded, lips parted, but there’s no sobbing. No pleading.

Instead, when he calls you a slut again, you bite back with a sharp little laugh that turns into a moan.

“Slut? Says the guy who dragged a stranger into the bathroom because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants for thirty minutes,” you shoot back, voice surprisingly steady despite how deep he’s buried. Your walls flutter around him on purpose, clenching tight just to watch his smirk falter for half a second. “If I’m such a slut, why’s your cock twitching like it’s never felt a pussy this good before?”

Jungwon’s eyes narrow. That wasn’t the reaction he wanted. He pulls almost all the way out and slams back in with vicious force, the counter creaking under you. His grip on your throat tightens as he leans in closer, lips brushing your ear.

“Keep talking shit and I’ll fuck that attitude right out of you,” he hisses, picking up the pace, brutally drilling into you so your body jolts with every thrust. “You’re supposed to be crying by now, begging me not to stop like every other pathetic girl. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Another sharp thrust. Another soft, sweet “Ahh…” from you when he hits that perfect angle again, nothing more.

You tilt your head back against the mirror, eyes locking with his, a teasing smirk of your own playing on your lips even as your pussy drips around his cock.

“Wrong with me?” you gasp between thrusts, still sounding far too composed. “Nothing. I just don’t cry for boys who think being an asshole makes them special. Now shut up and fuck me properly if you can, Jungwon. Or are you all bite no bark?”

His jaw clenches. The pretty fuckboy who always makes girls break is suddenly the one thrown off. He doesn’t like it.

And he definitely doesn’t like how much his cock throbs harder at your sharp tongue.

Jungwon pulls out suddenly, flips you around like you weigh nothing, and bends you over the sink instead, face pressed to the mirror, ass up, back arched deep. He kicks your legs wider and drives back into you in one brutal thrust, one hand fisting your hair, the other slapping your ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fine,” he snarls, voice low and dangerous as he starts railing you even harder from behind. “Let’s see how long that pretty mouth stays smart when I’m done with you.”

Your only response is another soft, pleased “Ah…” as he hits even deeper, followed by a breathy, defiant little chuckle.

Game on, Yang Jungwon. 

The slap of skin on skin is filthy and loud in the small bathroom, almost drowning out the muffled party music outside.

Jungwon has you bent over the sink now, one hand fisted tight in your hair, the other gripping your hip so hard his fingers are going to leave bruises. He’s fucking you with vicious, deep strokes, fast, mean, relentless. Every time he bottoms out, the head of his cock bullies against that spot that makes your pussy flutter and drip.

You’ve been taking it like it’s nothing. Soft little “ah”s and sharp comments. No tears. No begging. Until suddenly your walls clamp down hard around him.

A low, shaky moan slips from your lips as you cream all over his cock, warm, slick, pulsing, your pussy gushing and squeezing him in tight, rhythmic waves. The feeling is so fucking good it rips a guttural groan out of Jungwon’s throat before he can stop it.

“Fuck—shit—”

He can’t hold back. His hips stutter once, twice, then he buries himself to the hilt and cums hard inside you. Thick, hot ropes of cum flood your pussy in smooth, pulsing spurts, painting your walls white while your own orgasm milks every last drop out of him.

For a few seconds the only sounds are heavy breathing and the wet, obscene sound of his cock still twitching inside your cunt.

Then, just like always, the switch flips.

Jungwon pulls out in one quick motion, his cum already starting to leak down your thighs. He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t look at you. Just turns, grabs his pants from the floor, and starts pulling them on like you’re already forgotten.

He’s waiting for it. The usual pathetic whimpering.

The “my legs don’t work…”  

The teary “can you help me get dressed?”  

The last girl literally begged him to carry her out of the bathroom like some princess.

He’s ready to laugh in your face and tell you to crawl if you have to. But you don’t.

You straighten up slowly, legs steady, thighs glistening with his cum and your own mess. Without a single wobble you reach for your dress, pull it back down, and smooth it over your hips like nothing happened. You even bend over casually to fix your heels, ass still out, his cum dripping down your leg, and you don’t even flinch.

Then you turn to the mirror, fix your hair with quick fingers, and wipe a smudge of lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

Jungwon freezes mid-zip, staring at you. You’re walking perfectly fine. No shaking legs. No clinging to the counter for support. No teary eyes or whiny voice asking for help.

You just look… unbothered. Satisfied, even. Like he was just a decent workout and nothing more. His blood boils instantly.

The man who always leaves girls ruined and crying is suddenly the one whose jaw is tight, eyes dark with irritation.

He steps closer, voice low and sharp. “…The fuck is this?”  

He gestures at you, standing there steady on your own two feet, already looking put-together while his cum is still leaking out of you. “You’re not even limping? Not gonna cry and beg me to carry your useless ass out of here like the last pathetic bitch?”

You glance at him through the mirror, one eyebrow raised, a small, amused smirk tugging at your lips.

“Why would I?” you say lightly, voice still a little breathy but perfectly calm. “It was a good fuck, Jungwon. Not life-changing. My legs work just fine.”

You turn to face him fully, adjusting the strap of your dress like you’re getting ready to walk back into the party.

“Besides… you’re the one who said ‘what’s done is done,’ right? So I’m done. Thanks for the dick.” You reach for the door handle.

Jungwon’s hand slams against the door before you can open it, trapping you there. His chest is almost pressed to your back, breath hot against your ear. He looks pissed. Actually pissed.

“You’re really just gonna walk out like that?” His voice is dangerously quiet. “Acting like I didn’t just fuck you stupid and fill you up?”

You tilt your head slightly, still calm, still unfazed. “Yeah. I am.”  A soft chuckle leaves you. “What, did I bruise your precious ego because I’m not on the floor crying for you? Poor baby.”

His grip on the door tightens, knuckles white. He hates how much he suddenly wants to bend you over again and fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week.

He really, really hates it. Your hand gently pushes his arm away from the door.

“Move. I have a party to get back to.” Jungwon doesn’t move right away. His eyes are burning into you, something dark and new flickering behind that usual cold smirk.

For the first time in a long time…  Yang Jungwon doesn’t know what the fuck to do with a girl who just walked away from him like he was average. And it’s making him furious. You wink at him one last time as you push the door open, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek, mocking. Had it been anyone else, he’d have pushed them off of himself and wiped his face in disgust, but he didn’t to you, he couldn’t.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist”

perm taglist:

"shut your fucking mouth" his voice was low eerily calm—like the one before a storm. he refuses to even spare a glance, focusing hard on the road ahead. "you want attention so fucking bad? go back there and find him. see if he can satisfy that needy pussy of yours the way i do"

the silence that follows after his shameless unfiltered remark is heavy, punctuated only by the click of the turn signal. you know he can be a bastard, and right now he’s reveling in his anger.

you couldn't go long without his attention on you, he was right about that part. about how you love when attention is on you, specifically his and how he satiates your aching hunger. and how you are always willing to go above and beyond for his attention, the exact reason you were entertaining the random dude at the bar. to get a rise from the man right next to you.

and the best thing? you knew how to make it up to him.

you unbuckle your seatbelt with a slow deliberate click, his eyes flickering towards you for a split second, narrow and sharp, before returning to the dark road ahead.

now free from the restriction the seatbelt was providing, you tilt your body to face him, hand reaching out to gently yet firmly cup over his slacks, the tip of your middle finger pressing slightly.

"what the fuck are you doing?" he asks, his voice a solutely still and soft despite the clear warning. but despite that, his breathing hitches when your hand starts to massage the growing bulge.

"I'm not gonna repeat myself...sit back up and shut that mouth"

"make me" you whisper, thoroughly enjoying testing his patience.

you don't wait for another remark, reaching for his belt, clicking it open and sliding his zipper down. his cock is already semi-hard, pulsing against his boxers from the sheer adrenaline of his temper. when you pull him out into the cool air of the cabin, he groans, a sound of pure frustration.

"you think you can just fix it like this?" he growls, his hand slamming against the steering wheel as he navigates a turn. "spending all night begging for eyes on you, and now you’re down there acting like a little slut..."

you don't argue or retort back instead choosing to take him into your mouth. you lean in close, the heat of him radiating against your cheeks and let out a soft, mocking hum. you start with tiny feather-light kitten licks, dragging your tongue from the base all the way to the crown, just barely grazing the skin. you focus entirely on the very tip, swirling your tongue around the slit, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum that’s already beginning to form.

you wrap your lips around just the head, suckling on him with a slow agonizingly shallow rhythm. you make sure the suction is loud and wet, the sound of your spit slicking him up filling the quiet car.

"fuck" sunghoon chokes out, his knuckles turning even whiter on the wheel. "don't play with me right now. put your fucking mouth on it and work, or get back in your seat."

you ignore him, looking up through your lashes with a defiant glint in your eyes. you pull back, trailing a long slow string of saliva down his shaft, then lean in to nip at him with your teeth—just enough pressure to be dangerous. you go back to the tip, swirling and flicking, treating him like a piece of candy you have no intention of finishing.

"you're so sensitive, hoonie" you whisper against his skin, your breath hot and damp. "is the big, scary hoonie getting impatient? maybe i should just leave it like this. let you drive home with your cock dripping all over"

"you little bitch" he rasps, his voice a velvety snarl. he reaches down, his hand clamping onto the back of your neck with a bruising grip. he forces your head forward, his hips bucking up in a desperate impatient surge. "i’m not in the mood for your games... open your throat and take the whole fucking thing before i make you regret ever opening your mouth tonight"

you let out a muffled giggle against him, the vibration sending a shudder through his frame, before finally relenting and sliding him deep, the sudden warmth of your throat finally silencing his protests into a long ragged moan.

"fuck,, yeah just like that.." his hand coming down to grip the back of your head, his fingers tangling brutally in your hair. he doesn't guide you gently; he pushes, forcing your face down harder. "that's it.. choke on it, baby. since you like to open your mouth for everyone else, you can keep it open for me too, can't you?"

he keeps his eyes on the road, the streetlights casting strobing shadows over his sharp features. he’s driving faster now, the thrill of the risk bleeding into his arousal. you increase the pace, making it as sloppy as possible, letting the saliva trail down his shaft and onto his thighs. you use your hands to stroke the base, your thumb rubbing circles over his balls while your mouth works relentlessly.

"god, you’re so fucking messy for this dick.." he rasps, his voice dropping into a crude gravelly register. "look at you, taking me so good, like a champ"

he shifts gears, the movement of his leg brushing against your shoulder. he’s getting close, his grip on your hair tightening until your eyes water.

"don't you stop" he warns, his tone mean and commanding. "i want it all... want you to choke on it. i want to feel your throat twitching while i cum"

you look up at him, your eyes blown wide and glassy, and he looks down just long enough to see the excitememt in your gaze. a dark, twisted smirk pulling at his lips.

"yeah, that's right" he mutters, his hips beginning to thrust reflexively as he nears the edge. "take it all. be a good little slut for me and maybe i won't leave you on the side of the road."

the speedometer climbs as the car hurtles down the empty stretch of the road, the only sound the roar of the engine and the wet, rhythmic suction of your mouth on him. sunghoon's breath is coming in ragged, jagged hitches now. he’s no longer just angry; he’s consumed.

"move" he commands, his voice a low, vibrating friction.

he doesn't wait for you to comply. his heavy hand lets go of the wheel for a split second to grab your shoulder, hauling you up just enough that you’re draped over the edge of the passenger seat, your chest pressed against the leather and your ass tilted high in the air. you don't stop, though. keeping your head down, your lips locked around him, continuing to swirl your tongue around his head even as your body is forced into this new vulnerable position.

with a guttural growl, he reaches over, his palm slamming down flat against the curve of your ass. the impact sends a sharp sting through you, and you let out a muffled, vibrating moan against the shaft of his cock.

"look at you" he mutters, chuckling condescendingly, his eyes darting from the road to the sight of you arched and serving him in the dim glow of the dashboard. "perked up and begging for it after you spent the whole night teasing every prick in that club... keep sucking, baby. don't you dare let go."

his fingers hook into the waistband of your lace panties, but he doesn't pull them down. instead, he keeps the fabric tight against your skin, his large hand kneading the flesh of your cheeks through the thin material. the friction is rough, bordering on mean, as he digs his fingertips in.

"you’re soaking through these, aren't you?" he sneers, a dark, triumphant look in his eyes. "you’re so worked up because i’m finally treating you like the brat you are."

"mmph—h-hoonie..." you moan around him, the sound deep and distorted by the thickness of him filling your mouth. you try to work your jaw faster, wanting to please him, but the way he’s manhandling your ass makes your focus shatter.

he slides his hand deeper into the back of the fabric, his palm hot and heavy as it presses directly against your skin while the lace remains stretched over his knuckles. he begins to rub, his hand moving in a punishing, circular motion that grinds your clit against the damp fabric of your panties.

you cry out, the sound trapped in your throat, your hips jerking instinctively toward his touch. the sensation of the rough lace sliding against your sensitive folds under the weight of his hand is overwhelming.

"stay still" he warns, his fingers twitching against the wheel to keep the car centered. "i didn't tell you to move. i’m going to make sure you remember exactly who you belong to. keep that mouth busy. i want to hear you choking on it"

he leans over, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear before he sinks them into the side of your neck, marking you right where everyone can see it tomorrow. he growls into your skin, a sound that vibrates deep in your chest, while his hand works relentlessly between your legs. the sheer size of his hand dwarfs you, his thumb finding your entrance and pressing hard through the lace, mocking the way you're trembling.

"slurp it up" he mutters, his voice thick with a mix of lust and possessiveness. "you love this, don't you? being my little slut while i drive. tell me whose cock you were thinking about while that pathetic loser was talking to you."

you pull back just an inch, gasping for air, a string of spit connecting your lips to his tip. "you" you sob out, your fingers clawing at the leather of the seat. "it's always you, sunghoon... please... i'm almo- keep going."

"get back on it" he growls, shoving his hips forward so he hits the back of your throat. "and don't you stop until i tell you to. i’m just getting started with you."

the car swerves slightly as your body hitches, your breath coming in sharp, broken sobs of need. you’re right on the edge, the friction of the lace and the heavy pressure of sunghoon's palm pushing you towards a peak that feels like it’s going to shatter you. your hips are rolling uncontrollably against his hand.

his hand is buried deep in your lace, his palm grinding against your soaking wet folds with a rhythmic, punishing force that makes your vision swim. he’s not being gentle; his thumb hooked into the fabric to pull it taut against your clit until you’re whimpering around him.

"that’s it" he rasps, his voice breaking into a jagged, guttural growl. "keep that throat tight... suck it like you’re starving for it."

you redouble your efforts, to obey and please him, your tongue swirling frantically around the head of his cock, your cheeks hollowing as you create a vacuum of heat and spit. the messy slapping sound of your lips against his skin fills the cabin, fueled by the desperate friction of his hand between your legs.

suddenly, his entire body goes rigid. his knuckles turn bone-white on the steering wheel, and his other hand, the one still shoved inside your panties, clutches your pussy.

"fuck,,, i'm—don't you dare stop" he snarls, his head snapping back against the headrest.

he begins to pulse in your mouth, heavy and hot. his hips jerk upward, forcing himself deeper into your throat as he finally breaks. you gag slightly, your eyes watering, but you don't pull away. you swallow around him, taking every thick, searing drop of his seed while he groans, a long and low sound of pure unadulterated release.

even as he cums, he doesn't stop moving his hand. he keeps rubbing you through the damp lace, his fingers twitching against your sensitive skin in a way that’s almost cruel, keeping you suspended right on the edge of a peak he has no intention of letting you climb.

"look at you" he breathes, his voice thick and wrecked as he slowly starts to come down from the high. he looks down at you, his thumb dragging one last, heavy time across your clit through the fabric. "covered in me, shaking like a leaf, and still so fucking needy... god, you’re pathetic."

he pulls his hand out of your underwear, his fingers glistening with your wetness, and wipes them slowly across your cheek.

"now sit up and fix yourself" he commands, his eyes returning to the road with that same entitled coldness. "we’re almost home, and i’m not done punishing you yet."

the sudden lack of contact feels like a physical blow. you slump against the seat, your core throbbing, your body screaming for the release he just snatched away.

"i didn't give you permission to cum" he says, his voice regaining that terrifying, calm edge. he doesn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the glowing taillights of a car in the distance.

"are you serious?" you snap, the frustration in you rising to the surface despite the ache between your legs. you sit up, adjusting your tangled clothes with jerky, annoyed movements. "you can't just leave me like this. that’s not fair."

"unfair???" he repeats, an amused hum vibrating in his throat. "what's unfair is making me watch some pathetic guy touch your arm while you smirk at him. you’re gonna sit with that empty pussy all night."

"you’re such a dick" you mutter, crossing your arms and staring out the window, your leg bouncing with agitated energy.

"watch that mouth" he warns, though the corner of his lip twitches. he finally slows down and pulls the vehicle to a smooth stop right in front of your apartment complex.

the engine idles with a low rumble that feels like a mockery of the pulse still thrumming in your veins. you stay seated for a moment, glaring at the dashboard, waiting for him to reach over and finish what he started. but he just sits there, one hand casually draped over the top of the wheel, looking bored.

accepting that he won't be going back on his word, you huff, grabbing your bag and shove the door open. the cool night air hits your heated skin, making you shiver. you step out onto the pavement, ready to stomp up to your door and find a toy to handle the problem he wouldn't.

before you can shut the door, you look back. sunghoon is leaning back in his seat, his head tilted toward you. he cocks one eyebrow up, his expression one of pure, entitled arrogance—the look of a man who knows he won, who knows he has you completely wrapped around his finger. he doesn't say a word; he just waits, his eyes dropping pointedly to your lap.

you stare at him, your jaw tight. you want to flip him off and walk away, but the sheer gravity of his presence pulls at you. you let out a long dramatic sigh and roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

"god,, you're such a loser!" you hiss though there's no real heat in it.

reaching under your dress, you hook your fingers into the sides of your damp lace panties, shimmying them off down your legs, stepping out of them right there on the sidewalk. the silk-and-lace fabric is warm and heavy with your scent as you bunch it up and toss it through the open window.

the flimsy wet material almost lands right on his lap, sunghoon catching it, his fingers instantly curling around the fabric, bringing it up to his face to inhale the scent. he looks up at you, a slow predatory smirk spreading across his face.

"get inside" he commands softly, his voice dropping an octave. "and don't you dare touch yourself, baby. i'll know."

You lie in bed, contemplating replying to him, knowing exactly where it will lead you.

With him, in between your legs, making you take every inch of his cock while you suck on his fingers

“Funny how you were just telling me to leave you alone not even 10 minutes ago” He had said, not even caring if you could respond or not

That was 2 weeks ago.

He’s been texting since then, what feels like hundreds of missed calls after you decided to ghost him

You look down at your phone, clicking on the messages to read the ones he sent last night at 1:38 am

Hee: baby pls

Hee: im sorry

Hee: i blocked her after i left ur place

Hee: we didnt even fuck

Hee: shes just some desperate whore looking for attention

Hee: please yk id never do anything to hurt you

You cringe thinking back to how you were laying in bed together afterwards

He was sound asleep next to you, when you heard his phone notification

You glanced at the night stand, hesitating before picking it up, already knowing the password since it was still your birthday

Your heart dropped at the messages.

Rea (jakes party): when can I see u again?

Rea (jakes party): still thinking abt what wouldve happened if the cops didnt show up

Rea (jakes party): -image attachment-

Rea (jakes party): thats proof ;)

Your hands were shaking as you put the phone down before you woke Heeseung up

“Mmm.. you already want it again baby?” He says in a lazy voice, eyes adjusting to the light

He noticies you holding his phone and sits up immediately

“Get the fuck out heeseung.” you say, not even looking at him

Standing up and putting on your robe he had practically ripped off you earlier

“Baby, wha-“ he says pausing when he looks at what you saw on his phone

“Fuck, y/n thats not what this is” he says taking the covers off him

You pick up his clothes from the ground and throw them at him

“I don’t want your bullshit excuses. I just want you to get the fuck out.” you say, avoiding the way he looks at you with pleading eyes

“I should have known you only came here for the sex.” You say burying your face in your hands

“You’re not so innocent either.” he says standing up, towering over you

“Don’t tell me you just casually wear lacey red lingerie every day, No you knew what you were doing the second I got here.”

He peels your hands from your face making you look at him

“Look at me when im fucking talking to you.” Heeseung says his grip on your wrist tight

You wince at the slight sting and he immediately retracts his hand

“Im sorry baby-“ he starts

“Heeseung im not going to tell you again, get the hell out, im done with you.”

“Were done.” you stare at him, trying not to let a tear slip, your heart feels like its being squeezed

He doesn’t say anything when you leave the room and go to the bathroom

He doesn’t say anything as he puts back on his clothes

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves your apartment

But when he gets to his car, he throws his phone on the passenger seat cursing himself for letting that fucking girl put her number in his phone

-

You really shouldn’t reply to his messages, I mean its the next day maybe he forgot he even sent them

Re-reading them over and over again, until he texts you first

Hee: Read?

Hee: I know ur there y/n

You: Heeseung I told you were done.

Hee: Baby please im sorry

Hee: im sorry im sorry im sorry

Hee: pls believe me

Hee: I need you so bad

You: You’re being ridiculous.

Hee: Come on baby, I miss you so bad rn

You swipe out of the messages trying to remember the bad moments in your complicated relationship instead of the good ones, you watch the notifications flood in at the top of your screen

Hee: Baby?

Hee: did u block me again

Hee: pls answer

You shut off your phone in attempt to ignore the messages

Incoming call: Lee heeseung

your phone lights up, and vibrates, you mute it by turning it off again

Incoming call: Lee heeseung

you roll your eyes, shutting of the phone again

Incoming call: Lee Hee-

“Heeseung what the hell do you want?!” you yell into your phone

“Baby please- im sorry, why are you ignoring me”

“Ill do anything please just let me see you”

“No Heeseung. If you call me again I swear I will block you.”

“Come on y/n! Im fucking trying here okay? Can you not be so.. selfish for once?!” He says, louder than intended

“Oh im the selfish one now? God, you really are unbelievable.”

“Yes! you’re acting like a fucking brat!”

“Fuck you Heeseung.” you say before hanging up, regretting answering it in the first place.

—

Its been a few days since Heeseung called, he hasnt texted you either.

You cant help but miss the attention just a little

You check the time

2:50

sighing because theres only 10 more minutes left on your break before you have go back to working

You laugh at a funny tiktok when you get that familiar notification.

Hee: I have ur favorite hoodie at my place

Hee: do u want it

Fuck. That hoodie was expensive as hell, and you’ve been looking for it, thinking you left it at your parents when you visited

You: yeah actually. didnt know u had it

Hee: i can drop it off whenever

You: js leave it at my door

Hee: ur not home?

You: work

Hee: when do u get off

You: why?

Hee: ik u dont wanna see me so i wont drop it off when ur home

You: oh

You: like 7 ish

Hee: okay

—

Its 7:20 when you enter the apartment elevator, leaning against the wall, dying to get out of your uncomfortable office attire, your feet have been dying in these heels all day

walking down the hallway you stop when you see Heeseung sitting down on the floor, leaning against your door

He has your hoodie in hand and immediately stands up when he sees you

“Y/n-“

“what are you doing here?”

“I could have sworn I said before 7.”

“I know, I know- but I just had to see you”

You walk until your in-front of him before getting out your keys and unlocking your door

Not bothering to close it behind you as Heeseung follows you in, closing it behind him

“Baby, im so fucking sorry- I mean it” he says watching as you take off your heels

You dont miss the way his eyes trail up to your pencil skirt, and over your blazer

“You can put the hoodie on the hanger” you say and he hangs it up

“Can you listen to me y/n?”

“Heeseung, im exhausted okay? My day has already been shit, and I dont need this from you right now-“

“Come on baby just hear me out-“ he says before you interrupt him

“Lock the door on your way out.”

You watch as he walks over to you, getting on his knees in-front of you

“What are you doing-“

“If my words cant change your mind then maybe my mouth can.” he says lifting your skirt till its bunched up at your waist

“Heeseung wait”

He stops inches away from your clothed pussy

“I- I haven’t shaved recently-“

“You think I fucking care about that y/n?”

He doesnt give you time to respond before licking a stripe up your cunt

“H-hee” you say through a pleasure filled sigh

He wastes no time pulling your panties down, practically drooling at the sigh of you dripping before him, and lifting your left leg to put it over his shoulder, giving him more access to you

“I missed this pretty pussy” he says gathering your arousal on his finger before licking it

“missed me too hm?” he smirks up at you before attaching his lips to your core

“Shit Hee!” you gasp as he absolutely devours you, licking, sucking, making out with your clit

“Havent ate you out in so long” he mumbles in between your legs

“Fuck you dont know how much I regret not fucking you with my tounge last time” he says before doing just that

You grip his hair with both hands as he pushes his sharp tounge into you

“Heeseung- yes fuck!” you say grinding against his face, your clit hitting the tip of his nose over and over again

He looks up at you in awe, your head thrown back, fully embraced in the pleasure his tounge is bringing you

he sticks his tounge out for you fully, letting you grind on it, before sucking on your clit again

“You gonna cum for me baby? make a mess all over my face?” he says bringing both hands to grip your ass pulling you closer onto his face

“Y-yes!” you say hardly even able to speak as your eyes roll, you dont feel any other emotion as he flicks his tounge faster, pushing in and out of you

“im gonna cum hee!” you say grinding onto his mouth faster, chaising your high

He holds you, supporting you, your knees practically give out as you ride your orgasm out, making a mess all over his face

The sounds coming from below you are so lewd, Heeseung slurping up all your juices

pressing small kisses to your pussy, as if thanking it

you look down at him, and he looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust before standing up, you have to hold onto his shoulders in order to not fall to the floor with how weak you are.

“Do you forgive me now baby?”

You nod frantically

He smirks, knowing he’s won

“J-just need you inside of me hee-“ you say looking up at him with those adorable fuck me eyes

“Yeah baby? Should I fuck you on the floor? like the slut you are?”

you shake your head

“No?” he says studying your face

“How about I bend you over your counter? Take you on the same place youve been eating your dinners every night, alone.”

“N-no Heeseung, want the bed” you say with a begging look in your eyes

“You think you deserve the bed? after practiclly ignoring me for 3 fucking weeks?”

“Please Hee-“ you say slipping your hand between you two and gripping his cock through his jeans

He hisses at the contact

“You’re lucky I don’t have any patience right now.” He says lifting you

One second you were at the front of your apartment , and the next you were on your bed

Heeseung strips his clothes off

You waste no time getting fully undressed, throwing your clothes on the ground

Heeseung reaches behind you to grab a pillow

“Lift your head.”

you comply as he places the soft pillow beneath your head

He doesnt settle between your legs though.

You look up at him, confused as he cages you between his legs, stroking his cock over your face

“Open your mouth and stick out your tounge.”

You hesitate

“You think you deserve my cock in your pussy? with how youve been acting?”

“Heeseung I-“

“Open your fucking mouth. and stick out your tounge.”

You open your mouth and stick out your tonge flattening it against your bottom lip

He takes the tip of his dick slapping it on your tounge repeatedly, letting his pre cum gather on it

“Can you be a good girl for me?” he says brushing your hair behind your ear, looking down at you

you nod

“Suck.”

You close your lips around his tip, craining your neck as you attempt to take his dick down, not even being able to fit half on your own, but still trying your best

“Look at you, so desperate to please.” He says biting his lip as your tongue glides down his length

He begins thrusting foward slightly, trying to fit more of his cock in your mouth, you try not to gag at the intrusion

“You take my cock so well baby” he says groaning as you suck on him harder, more confident with the praise hes giving you

He grips that back of your hair controlling your head as he slides his dick in and out

“Fuck your mouth feels so good”

You mumble around his dick, the vibration of it makes him let out a moan

He begins thrusting faster into your mouth, pulling your head closer with both hands

You hollow your cheeks as he uses your mouth how he wants

“You gonna swallow for me?” He says as he watches his lenghth dissapear in your mouth over and over again

You nod as you tighten your lips around him

He picks up his pace, the room filling with the sound of his cock going in and out your mouth and his balls hitting your chin, the sound of it making you even more wet

“im gonna cum baby- take it for me” he says through a moan as he shoots his warmth down your throat in one final thrust

You swallow it down as he takes his glisteing cock out your mouth, rubbing his tip on your lips like lipgloss

“Thank me for my cum” he says tapping his still hard dick on your face

“T-thank you” You manage to let out

He slaps your face with his dick, making you wince

“Thats not what I asked” he says demanding

“T-thank you for your cum Heeseung!” you say looking at him for approval

“Thats my girl” He says sitting up and looking down at you

“Turn around.” he says biting his lip as he looks at your tits

You immediately listen, arching your back, putting your ass on display for him

He rubs it with his palm before landing a sharp slap on your ass just to see it recoil under his touch, making your back arch even more

“So fuckin’ needy” He says guiding his dick to your soaking cunt, gathering your juices and smearing them

“P-please Hee” you say wiggling your butt a little

he just smirks before practically slamming his cock into you

A scream comes from your lungs at the way you suddenly go from empty to completely filled

“Pussy’s so wet It slipped right in” he says chuckling at the way you bury your face into the pillow

He barely gives you time to adjust before gripping your hips and thrusting his cock into you, watching the way your ass moves everytime his hips make contact with your skin

“Fuck you were made for me” He says groaning

He grips at your flesh pulling you on his cock, making you let out desperate moans into the pillow

“Im gonna cum hee-!” you say when his hand slips around and pinches your nipple, rolling it between his fingers

“Aw, already baby?” He says absolutely bullying your pussy with the amount of force he’s putting into each thrust

Hes quick with his hands when he flips you over so your facing him, keeping his dick buried inside you

“Wanna see your pretty face when you make a mess on my cock” he says placing his hands by your head before moving in and out of you again, reaching even deeper then before

“H-hee” you manage to let out between whimpers

His eyes focused on the way he disappears into you with every thrust of his hips he makes

You snake your hand inbetween you two tugging on his silver chain, which brings his attention back to your face

Pulling him down, his lips clashing into yours

kissing him with desperation as he hits that spot that has you seeing stars

your moaning into his mouth, clenching around his cock

“Fuck baby- you gonna cum?” he says applying pressure to your clit with his thumb, his mouth still on yours

You dont have time to respond before your mind clouds as you feel your orgasm upon you, heeseung thrusts into you at such a fast pase you cant feel anything except for the pleasure hes bringing you

Spasming on his dick as you reach your high, Heeseung doesnt stop though, thrusting into you deeper

Chasing his own release as he moans in your ear, overstimulating your clit with his thumb, you feel yourself getting close again and he knows hes about to cum

He buries himself deeper in you, and kisses the most sensitive part of your neck

You cant help yourself as you squirt on his cock

He shoots his cum in you as youre hole flutters around him, the most pornographic moans coming from the two of you

He lifts himself up, inching his cock slowly out of your pussy watching the way his cum spills out you

He looks at your face, completely flushed and ruined beneath him “Y/n” he says turning your head so you’re looking at him

“I love you so fucking much” He says laying down next to you and pulling you to his chest

“I love you too Heeseung” You manage to whisper

You dont know how long you two layed there like that, in the comfort of eachothers arms

Then you hear that familar notification from Heeseungs phone, your ears perking up, and your heart dropping at the sudden deja vu

He reaches for his phone on the night stand and you swear your heart could come out of your chest with how fast its beating

You watch as he turns it on

Door Dash: Your order will be delivered in 15 minutes

He turns his head to look at you with a knowing smirk on his face

You look at him, the panic disappearing

“What?” he says smiling

You nudge his shoulder in a joking manner

He cant help but laugh at you, and kissing your cheek, before cleaning you both up

—————————————————————————

Heeseung and reader continue their toxic antics, or get back together- open for interpretation

he chuckles low, returning his focus to the screen, but one hand slips away from the mouse to rest on your hip. you take the invitation, rocking your hips forward, the friction sending sparks through you. your pussy aches already, wetness soaking through your panties. you kiss his jaw, nipping at the skin, and he tilts his head slightly to give you better access. “you're distracting me,” he says, less like a complaint, more like encouragement.

you reach down and guide his free hand between your legs. his fingers brush against the damp fabric of your shorts, and he pauses for a split second, his character on screen taking a hit. “fuck,” he mutters, but it's about the game, not you. you unzip your shorts and shimmy them down along with your panties, exposing your slick folds to the cool air. niki's fingers find your entrance immediately, teasing the wetness there as you hover over his lap.

you lift yourself slightly, positioning so that when he pushes two fingers inside you, you can sink down onto them. he does it effortlessly, his digits curling just right as you lower your body. the stretch feels perfect, his skin warm against your inner walls. you gasp, gripping his shoulders through the hoodie, and start to move. up and down, riding his fingers slowly at first, the wet sounds of your pussy echoing softly in the room.

“you're so wet,” he whispers during a lull in the game, his eyes flicking to yours. you nod, biting your lip, your breasts heaving under your thin tank top. you pull the straps down, freeing your tits, and niki's gaze lingers before snapping back to the screen. his fingers thrust deeper, scissoring inside you, hitting that spot that makes you go crazy. you moan loudly, risking his friends hearing though the headset.

his thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your thighs tremble. you ride him faster now, your ass slapping lightly against his thigh with each movement. his hoodie bunches up under your grip, the fabric soft against your skin as you lean forward, pressing your chest to his. niki adds a third finger, stretching you further, and you cry out, your walls clenching around him. “shit, niki - right there,” you beg, your voice breaking. he obliges, pumping his hand in rhythm with your movements, his thumb pressing harder on your swollen clit.

before you even have a chance to figure out what is going on, liquid comes squirting out onto his fingers. your orgasm rips through you violently, your pussy convulsing around his hand as a gush of clear fluid squirts out. 

the bottom of his hoodie and his lap between you are completely soaked, the hot release soaking his fingers and wrist, the scent of your arousal filling the air. “look what you did,” he teases, glancing down at the drenched hoodie, the fabric heavy and clinging from your release.

you smile lazily, still catching your breath, and kiss him deeply. his tongue slides into your mouth, tasting of mint. “worth it,” you murmur against his lips. he withdraws his fingers slowly, slick with your squirt, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean, his eyes locked on yours. the sight makes your core twitch again, already hungry for more.

“Ugh. I don’t get the obsession with soccer players,” Yunjin groans, snapping a few shots of the college team before slumping down dramatically against the bleachers. “Next time we draw straws for a project, I’m doing it. Because, honestly? You have the worst luck, Y/N. We could be watching a band practice right now. Instead, we’re documenting sweaty boys chasing a ball. It’s so…gross.”

Right on cue, Park Sunghoon, number twenty-three, yanks up his jersey and wipes the sweat beading on his forehead. There’s a flash of his incredibly sculpted abs that has the team of cheerleaders on the sidelines squealing like they’re barricade at a boy band concert. Which, fair. He has the face for it…and clearly, the build.

Yunjin recoils. “Are they serious? Him? He’s literally ran through—”

“Slut-shaming is very outdated, Yunjin,” you cut in, laughing as you adjust the settings on your own camera. Slutty men with abs or not, you have a journalism project due, and you need these shots.

“How convenient,” she deadpans. “Men spent centuries crucifying women for their sexuality, but now, when I try to do it, suddenly it’s all peace, camaraderie, and let’s all love each other, y’all. No. I say let the cycle come full circle.”

“Or,” you murmur, clicking the shutter, “we could just…all mind our business.”

Yunjin narrows her eyes, then she springs up from her seat only to flop back down beside you, arm slung across your shoulders like you’re friends. You’re not. Not, exactly. You have this journalism class together where she’s assigned herself as your permanent partner. That’s it. 

“You seem awfully defensive of them…” she says, then her eyes widen in mock horror. “Wait. Hold the phone—are you fucking one of them?”

Your jaw practically hits the bleachers. “W-what? N-no. Absolutely not.”

She tuts, utterly unconvinced, which is not a good sign. Not because you actually care what she thinks you’re doing with your free time—you don’t. You really don’t. Despite your prior protests, you’re actually very sex-positive. Liberated, if you will. Very on board with empowering women that they can, and should, fuck who they want, yadda yadda yadda.

At least… you were. Until him.

Him being Lee Heeseung. Number forty-nine on the team. The right-winger with defined arms, plush lips and long, thick fingers. A body part you’d never thought twice about—until one was pushed past your lips, keeping you quiet, and the others were pressed against your clit, pinning you against the cold slab of your kitchen island four months ago while he was supposed to be your family’s guest for dinner.

Not exactly your proudest moment. Not because you think getting finger-fucked in the kitchen of your family home makes you classless—it doesn’t. But because it was Heeseung. And a part of you can admit that getting secretly finger-blasted by your brother’s best friend, while you were supposed to be washing dishes, is probably… slightly… definitely tasteless.

But not as tasteless as what came next.

Later that night, letting him sneak into your bedroom, gag you, and fuck you senseless with your brother asleep on the other side of the wall. Tasteless doesn’t even begin to cover it. You need a word stronger than that. Ill-mannered? Crass? Stupid?

Stupid was probably best. Because when you factor in the rules of whatever this is between the two of you—it defies every feminist bone in your body. Heeseung was clear. He’s always clear. Commanding. Bossy is more appropriate. He told you this—whatever it was—had to stay a secret.

“Shhh,” he’d whispered, lips dragging over your ear as his hips drove deeper into your cunt. It was a slow, tantalising pace. Mocking. “Your brother’s right down the hall. You want him hearing how desperate you sound for me?”

Your head thrashed against the pillow, a strangled sound caught in your throat as your pulse skittered. You’d had sex before—but never like this. Never the purposeful pace, the filthy mouth, the multiple orgasms. (Orgasms, period, if we’re being honest.)

“You’re not gonna tell anyone about this, are you, Y/N?” he asked.

And how dare he ask? How dare he want you to think and process questions when his cock was stretching you open, letting you have it balls deep, making you stupid and breathless and weak. All you could do was shake your head, brain fogged, hoping that was enough to satisfy his question.

“Good girl.” His mouth brushed your jaw, the words curling into you as his thrusts quickened. “You’re the only one who needs to know I’m fucking you.”

His hand slid from your hip to your mouth, three fingers shoving between your lips, muffling your moans, making them vibrate against his skin. His favourite thing to do. “My dirty little secret,” he murmured, eyes dark. “That’s all you’ll ever be. Isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh,” you gasped around his fingers, though shame burned hot in your chest.

“Such a good little slut.” He smirked, grinding into you harder. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

And you agreed. Then…and several more times after. 

So, no. You’re not quite as liberated as you like to believe. Not anymore. You keep your sexcapades very private. Very quiet. Very personal. And very far away from your project partner, who you aren’t even friends with.

“I’m not fucking any of them—or anyone for that matter!” you blurt, shutting down the sexy memory reel playing in your head. Except the words tumble out all flustered and defensive, which isn’t helping your case.

Yunjin’s face scrunches. She doesn’t believe you. And she needs to believe you. Because the last thing you need is her running her mouth and telling everyone that you’ve got a thing with someone on the team. That rumour would travel fast—straight to your brother, and worse, to Heeseung. And Heeseung was clear: if you told anyone, you’d stop being his dirty little secret and start being nothing at all. A thing of the past. A regret.

And unfortunately for you, giving up sex with this man (this absolute feral sex god of a man) is not on the table.

“You can tell me, you know.” Yunjin shrugs, ever casual. “Your dirty little secret is safe with me, you minx.”

Dirty little secret.

Ironic.

You suck in a breath and reach for the only other tactic you have. The one you hate using. The one that makes people weird around you every time you tell them.

“I’m not defending them because I’m fucking one of them, Yunjin,” you say flatly. “I’m defending them because my brother is on the team, and I don’t love the imagery you’re putting in my head.”

Her jaw drops. “Y-your brother?”

You nod. “Uh-huh. Jungwon.”

She stares at you, dumbfounded, and a little...annoyed? 

“You’re telling me you’ve had a brother on this team the whole time, but you’ve been dragging us to these long ass practices, making us wait around, just so we can beg one of them to give us an interview for our article?”

“Well, yeah,” you say, prickling under her question. You're glad her train of thought has shifted, but not appreciative of her tone. You continue: “A big part of journalism is trying to convince the client to give you an exclusive.”

Yunjin scoffs so loudly it echoes off the empty bleachers. She shoots to her feet, dusts off her jeans. “Yes, Y/N, but a big part of living in the real world is having connections.”

You blink at her as she starts shoving her camera into her tote bag, lens cap barely on. “Hey—what are you doing? There’s still twenty minutes left of practice.”

“Not for me.” She slings the bag over her shoulder and swings her backpack onto her back in one seamless motion. “You, my darling girl, are going to use your nepotism and talk to your brother.”

“That’s not—” you sputter, staring as she marches down a few steps.

“Think of it as your free pass. Your bloodline advantage. Your genetic lottery ticket.” She’s counting them off on her fingers as she descends. “Whatever you want to call it. Use. It.”

You open your mouth, protest on your tongue, but she’s already halfway down the bleachers, hair bouncing, zero remorse.

“Wait, Yunjin!” You call, but she waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder, already moving toward the parking lot like she hasn’t just abandoned you with twenty minutes of practice left, a camera bag digging into your hip, and the sudden, horrifying prospect of actually approaching your brother for this project. 

Which, obviously, is never happening. Siblings don’t do you favours out of good faith. They do them reluctantly, conditionally. Especially older brothers. Especially Jungwon. And you have nothing to offer him. 

But before you can explain that, Yunjin’s gone. And now you’re hyperaware of the practice going on. The shrill of the coach’s whistle, the sound of boots tearing into turf, and the unsettling awareness of number forty-nine on the far side of the field. It’s like your body knows he’s there before your eyes even find him. 

But you won’t look. You can’t. Not unless you want to broadcast to the entire soccer team that you’ve been banging their best forward. Because one look is all it ever takes. One glance, and suddenly your skin’s prickling, your pulse is sprinting, your cheeks flushing. And none of it is your fault. It’s his. For being good with his hands. And his mouth. And his—

“Hi…”

The word comes from a voice that is small, hesitant, but definitely very, very male. It cuts clean through your spiralling thoughts and has your eyes jerking up from the camera in your lap that you were trying to distract yourself with, to a boy.

And then you’re staring. At his messy blonde hair, at his sweet features, at his teeth, which you find far too perfect to belong to a college student. Recognition tugs at you. Kim Sunoo.

You know him. Sort of. Two, maybe three rows behind you in Journalism 101. Doesn’t really matter because right now he’s standing over you with his hands shoved in his jeans and his lips pursed like he’s waiting for something.

Oh. Right. A response.

“Hi,” you blurt.

Fantastic. You’re truly an elite small talker. 

But Sunoo doesn’t seem to mind. He drops down on the bleacher beside you, sprawling his legs out like it’s the most natural thing in the world (he’s a man) ankles crossed on the metal rail in front of him.

“I see your partner ditched you too, huh?”

You grimace. “You saw that?”

“Well, yeah.” He gestures toward the field with a lazy flick of his hand. “Other than the team and the cheerleaders, we’re the only other people here.”

You glance around, and—yep. He’s right. Just the two of you and the echo of testosterone on the field.

“Why are you here?” you ask before your brain can stop your mouth. Then you wince. “Wait—sorry, that sounded way ruder than I meant. I just meant—you’re in my class, right? Journalism? And I know me and Yunjin got stuck with the sports piece, but you—unless your girlfriend’s a cheerleader or—”

The laugh that falls out of him is raspy and warm, brushing right over your skin like sunlight. He’s like sunlight. And that’s when it hits you—you’re rambling. Loudly. Full-on word vomit, and you have no idea why.

That’s not true. You know exactly why. It has everything to do with this boy’s smile, and his easy demeanour and pretty—really fucking pretty—face.

“No cheerleader girlfriend,” he says after a beat, his laugh finally settling. “Don’t think we’d have a lot in common, really.”

You arch a brow. “Well that’s a pretty harmful stereotype. Maybe one of them’s secretly obsessed with the art of journalism. Opposites attract, you know.”

His grin tilts. “Speaking from experience, are we?”

Your stomach flips and heat licks up your neck. You look away, pretending to fuss with your camera strap again, but the blush gives you away immediately. You force yourself to look back at him, even though your pulse is hammering. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “No experience.”

“Ah.” His eyes spark. “So that conversation you were having with Yunjin about some little fuck buddy on the team—that has absolutely no merit?”

Your mouth falls open. “You—oh my god!” You shove at his chest, heat flooding your face even more. “You nosy little—were you eavesdropping on us?!”

He just laughs, throwing one hand up in mock defence. “I’m a journalist, Y/N. It’s literally my job to eavesdrop. And in case you forgot, we’re the only ones here besides twenty sweaty guys running drills.”

You freeze, the reminder hitting hard. Because he’s right. It’s just the two of you on these bleachers, every sound and shift magnified—the scrape of his shoes, the brush of denim against denim when his knee nudges yours, the way your breath catches a little too obviously in your throat.

Your breath absolutely has no business doing that right now. But you know exactly why it is. Because Sunoo’s close, he’s here, and somewhere across the field, Heeseung is too. And it feels dangerous, sitting here with this boy’s knee pressed to yours, while the one you’ve been trying not to look at runs drills a hundred yards away.

You shift focus by clearing your throat. 

“Speaking of…you never answered my question about the assignment.”

“Question?” He echoes, tipping his head to study you. “You fired about ninety rapid-fire at me. I’d call it more like…cute rambling.”

“I was not—” you stop, then suck in a breath. Because you were. You square your shoulders, trying to reframe your original question. “What’s the subject matter that has you sitting at a soccer practice, Sunoo?”

His lips twitch. “Interview with the coach. Training methods, team dynamics, the ups and downs, that stuff, you know?”

“I do.”

“Boring, right?”

“Immensely,” you deadpan, earning his laugh. It skates warm down your spine. “What about your partner? Can I know why you’ve been ditched since you know all about mine running off?”

“I’m with Yunjin, to be fair,” he admits, deflecting. “Nepotism has its perks. Except if I’d had an easy way into talking to the coach, I wouldn’t have been stuck here at this practice…and I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to talk to the prettiest girl in our class.”

The words slam into you, pounding in your ears.

And suddenly you’re too aware of everything—his shoulder brushing yours each time he shifts, the faint scent of his cologne drifting over to your nose, the way the heat of his body reaches you even without touching.

“W-what?” Your voice breaks.

He laughs, awkward now, arm reaching around to rub the back of his neck. For the first time since sitting down, he looks less in control. “Was that too forward? Yeah, it was, wasn’t it? Sorry, I—” He clears his throat. “The girl I was paired with…she has a complicated history with one of the guys on the team. And she’s one of my best friends. So I told her I’d handle it. Carry the weight of the project.”

The words settle between you, and for a second, you can’t breathe. Because Sunoo’s not just nice, he’s good. Clearly. The kind of boy who steps in for a friend and calls you the prettiest girl in your class. And you should be melting at that. You should be leaning into that warmth, letting it wrap around you until your pulse slows down.

But you’re not.

Because all you can think about is him. The way he’s never once called you pretty. No. Heeseung doesn’t do sweet, tender, pretty. He doesn’t compliment by standard metrics; it’s all filthy praise…words that tear through you, and have lodged themselves so deep it’s all you can think about when another boy is calling you pretty.

Filthy girl. Fuck toy. Cumslut. 

Crude. Ugly. Explicit. And you crave every single syllable.

Because when he says them, when his voice drops low and his hands are on you, they don’t feel like insults. They feel like possession. Like worship. Not pretty. Never pretty. Something darker. Something that makes your body thrum in a way Sunoo’s gentleness never could.

Your head feels split in two. One side wants to lean toward the boy who’s safe and sweet. The other wants to look across the field at number forty-nine—the boy who ruins you with nothing but his mouth.

The silence between you and Sunoo goes sticky. Until—mercifully—the coach’s whistle slices through the air. Down on the field, practice begins to break apart, players scattering into clusters, some heading for the locker rooms, others stretching lazily as they peel off their shin pads.

Beside you, Sunoo exhales a small, slightly self-deprecating breath. He leans back, dragging a hand through his blond hair before turning to you with a sheepish smile. “Well—uh—I guess I’d better actually try and bag that interview with the coach before he disappears.”

You find yourself smiling back. “Good luck.”

He hesitates for a beat, eyes catching yours like he’s trying to hold them just a second longer. “I’ll see you in class, yeah?”

You nod. 

It should be a nice moment. A neat little bow to tie the awkwardness up with. But it doesn’t get the chance—because an arm, solid and heavy, slams down around your shoulders out of nowhere. The weight jerks you forward so hard your camera nearly slips out of your lap. 

You don’t need to look—you’d know that grip anywhere.

“Jesus Christ,” you snap, clutching your bag against you like a shield. “What the fuck, Jungwon? You almost broke my camera.”

He doesn’t budge. His arm stays draped over you, iron-tight, and he lifts his head to look at Sunoo—the blonde boy who was just about to get up—and pins him in place with a stare that’s all protective. Sunoo freezes, half-rising, caught in the beam of Jungwon’s attention.

Fucking great. 

When your brother speaks, it’s in that precocious older-brother tone that makes your skin crawl. “What is my darling baby sister doing out here?”

You shove at him, trying to shake off that arm. “Shut up. I’m doing homework.”

Jungwon’s eyes flit between you and Sunoo. “Didn’t look like you were doing homework to me,” he murmurs.

You want to throttle him. You might actually. Your parents would disown you, of course, he’s their favourite—but maybe tattling about the massive rager he threw senior year of high school (you still have the photos) might give you a pass.

Then Jungwon leans a fraction closer, lips slipping into mock concern for maximum effect at trying to mortify you. “Is this your little boyfriend?”

Your jaw drops. Sunoo sputters, coughing as his face goes crimson. Around you, the small cluster of Jungwon’s teammates snicker, making you aware of their presence. The laughter is full and echoing, and it sinks into your skin until your cheeks burn. 

Before you can spit out a defence, Sunoo clears his throat. “I’ll catch up with you later, Y/N.” And then he’s gone—bolting toward the coach and retreating from your brother and his pack of assholes.

Jungwon’s grin is wolfish. “Aww, did I scare off your date?” he asks brightly. “Although…I must say, a college practice isn’t exactly a romantic—”

“I told you I’m here to do homework, you ass!” you snap, your grip strangling the strap of your camera bag.

Jungwon’s eyebrows pull together. “What kind of homework?”

You roll your eyes, stand, and shove your equipment into your bag harder than you need to. “A sports interview. With one of you on the team. Hence me sitting through your stupid practice.”

“Stupid?” He presses a hand to his chest. “Ouch. You’re not very professional, sis.”

“I’m going to poison your food the next time we see Grandma for the holidays.”

Jungwon looks around at his cronies, suddenly public-spirited. Actually, he’s always public-spirited. A performer. Your idiot, annoying, older brother. 

“Y’all know which direction to point the cops in when I show up dead,” he says. 

The guys laugh. You feel your skin go cold.

“Jungwon—” You start, but he’s already up, patting the nearest player—number twenty-three—on the chest. 

“Hoon will do the interview with you.”

“No.”

It’s not you who says it. The clear, harsh, abrupt syllable comes from the man you crave everything from. Heeseung. Number forty-nine. 

He’s leaning back on the metal railing, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set so tight it could cut glass. He looks…angry. Irritated. Like Jungwon just suggested something offensive. Which would be ridiculous—if you didn’t know better, if you didn’t know him, you’d say he looked—no.

You’re being delusional. There’s no way this boy who keeps you in the dark, who hates labels, who doesn’t do claiming, is feeling jealous right now. It’s absurd. It’s silly. It’s Sunoo’s fault, you think. All his sweet compliments and warm smiles have gone gassing up your ego until you’re seeing things that aren’t there.

Heeseung speaks again. “I’ll do it.”

It’s not an offer. 

“Cool.” Jungwon yawns, stretching his arms above his head. “Heeseung will do it. Big brother saves the day again. Looking forward to my birthday present this year, Y/N.”

You spin on him so fast your hair nearly whips you in the face. “What—no. Absolutely not. I didn’t ask you to—”

“Relax.” Jungwon grins, already moving down the stairs of the bleachers, waving his hand like your opinion doesn’t matter in the slightest. “You needed an exclusive, now you’ve got one. Say thank you.”

“Thank you?” You echo.

Thank you? What does he want you to thank him for? Thank you for serving me up on a silver platter to the one person I cannot, under any circumstances, be alone with? 

Never mind Jungwon. What is Heeseung even playing at? He’s always so serious about keeping things on the down-low. About boundaries. About making sure the two of you barely even look at each other in public. The two of you have gotten so good at not raising suspicion, even your brother seems to think it’s a great idea to leave you with him—sweaty, sexy, shirt sticking to his body after practice—in a dark locker room. Alone.

Heeseung’s eyes flick up to yours, steady and unreadable, though the muscle in his jaw ticks once. He doesn’t say anything else, just lets the silence work on you until your lungs feel tight. 

You clear your throat, fumbling for words. “I—you—already asked Sunghoon—”

Your protest dies a quiet death as you glance at the stairs. Jungwon’s gone, disappearing to the lockers and taking most of the team with him.

Now it’s just you and Heeseung.

He pushes off the railing, the scrape of his cleats against the concrete piercing. “I’ll text you when everyone’s left,” he says, voice low. “So you can come into the locker room and we can start.”

There’s something about men that will never make sense to you—like how they can shower and get dressed after a full ninety minutes of soccer in under fifteen minutes. Fifteen. That’s not enough time to be clean. It just isn’t.

Or maybe you’re just bitter. Bitter that they’re so quick, because you need at least another two hours to mentally prepare yourself for the boy waiting inside that locker room. The one who sent you the all clear text five minutes ago. The same text you’ve been staring at and procrastinating over for far too long. 

With a resigned sigh, you shove your phone into your tote bag and head for the door. You cautiously knock twice because you’ve learned your lesson. No one needs a repeat of the Jake incident, where you barged in looking for your brother and were greeted by a very clear imprint of Jake’s dick in his boxers.

When silence greets you, you wait another beat before knocking again. But still…nothing. You decide to suck it up and push the door open anyway. You mean…it’s only Heeseung in there. Not only have you already seen the imprint of his dick, you've had it inside of you. How bad can it—

Oh.

Right. 

That bad.

He’s sitting on one of the benches—legs spread, torso bare, towel tossed aside despite his skin still visibly glistening from the shower. It’s taunting how the droplets trail down his chest and follow the slope of his defined collarbone before disappearing beneath the waistband of his black briefs. His hair is damp, the dark strands looking almost completely black as they stick to his forehead. When he looks up, the movement in his hands stills.

“I texted you ten minutes ago,” he says.

“I was—uh—sorting my stuff,” you manage, clutching your tote higher on your shoulder. “Making sure I had all my questions ready to go.”

His gaze drags over you slowly, his head tilting. “Do you?”

“Yep.”

“Then sit.” He gestures toward the bench across from him. “And lock the door.”

Your breath catches. “W-what?”

“Door. Lock. Now, Y/N.”

“I don’t think that’s really necessary...”

“Trust me,” he deadpans. “It’ll be very necessary. You don’t want anyone walking in on our interview. Might interfere with your little recording.”

Your pulse flutters against your throat. He has a point. A rational one. No journalist enjoys sifting through empty noise when drafting up their report. But it’s also him. And logic doesn’t work the same when Heeseung is sitting there half-naked, voice all low, asking you to consensually lock yourself in a 194 square foot box room with him. Alone.

“Come on,” he continues. “You’ve been in locked rooms with me before—”

“Okay,” you cut him off, just to stop the potential memory he’s about to bring up. You reach back, click the lock, then make your way over and sit on the bench opposite him. 

“What happened to you?” You ask, nodding toward the gash running along his pinky. The bandage wrapper and antiseptic wipes scattered across the bench beside him make it obvious what he was doing before you came in here.

Something in his jaw flexes. “You didn’t see?”

You try to think back, but your brain had been everywhere except on the field—on your camera angles, on Yunjin’s constant pestering, on Sunoo’s laugh. Certainly not on Heeseung. Not on your secret fuck buddy, who you put extra effort into avoiding because he can make your stomach flip from ten feet away. 

“No,” you admit. “What happened?”

He studies you for a second, his jaw ticking as he swallows. Then he shrugs one shoulder. “Jungwon knocked me down during a tackle after halftime, then his boot caught my hand.”

“Jungwon did that?” You wince, leaning forward a little. “Looks bad.”

“It’s fine.” He glances back to his hand, but the set of his shoulders says otherwise—tense, coiled, like he’s…irritated?

You want to ask if it hurts. If he’s sitting there, body tight, pretending not to be in pain because of you. Because he said yes to this stupid interview even when he clearly should’ve gone home and iced his hand. But before you can open your mouth, his eyes flick back up to yours.

“Not surprised you missed it,” he says after a beat. “You seemed…preoccupied. Didn’t realise you’d have company at practice today.”

You know exactly where this is going.

“Sunoo was just being nice,” you say.

He hums, eyes narrowing a fraction. “Trust me. I know. He seemed very nice.”

Your brows knit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Heeseung’s mouth tightens. “Nothing. Just saying.”

“No, you weren’t just saying,” you shoot back, arms crossing. “You’ve got that voice. The one you get when you’re being—” You stop yourself, the word jealous on your tongue, because it feels too dangerous to say out loud. Too humbling if he denies it. 

He. Doesn’t. Want. You.

Not properly. 

“When I’m being what?” His brows lift, the challenge there, daring you to say it.

You won’t. Instead, you let out a scoff and settle on: “Weird. You’ve been acting weird since I walked in.”

He laughs under his breath. “Weird?” He leans back, knee bouncing restlessly. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. Didn’t know you and Sunoo were that close.”

“We’re not,” you defend.“We have a class together. Not that it’s any of your business. We were talking about our projects.”

“Right,” he says dryly. “Because it looked like a really academic conversation from where I was standing. I always laugh and bump knees with the girls I’m studying with too.”

You blink at him. You can’t believe him. Can’t believe he’s being serious. All this over a bumped knee? Childish. 

“Are you actually serious right now?”

He says nothing. 

That’s it. You grab your bag, shove the strap over your shoulder, and push to your feet. Your heart picks up, hammering loud enough that your thoughts start to muffle. “Do you even hear yourself right now?” You ask. “You’re the one who didn’t want anyone to know about us. You made the rules, not me.”

His expression hardens. “Yeah, because your brother would kill me if he found out.”

“That’s such a cop-out.” You laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “Jungwon’s grown. He’d get over it. You just—” your voice wavers, “you just want it both ways. You want to be free to do whatever you want, and still have me waiting around for when it suits you. But you can’t have it both ways, Heeseung. You don’t get to tell me to keep it quiet and then glare at anyone who talks to me.”

“I don’t glare—”

“You do!” The words burst out of you. “You’re mad, and I don’t even know why! You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to either? What the hell is that? I don’t do that to you!”

He’s on his feet before you can blink, and suddenly there’s nowhere to go. He’s big, so big his entire presence fills the small space between you with something too hot to breathe through. His chest rises and falls hard, brows drawn low, and that expression on his face…confusion, frustration, something that looks too much like want.

“I never said I don’t want you,” he grits out. “I always want you. Every fucking time I see you, Y/N, I want you. I just—” He stops, swallows hard, that muscle in his jaw jumping. “I don’t know where you’ve got this idea that I’m seeing other people when I’m not, I wouldn’t—”

“Then why,” you interrupt, “are we a secret?”

Silence. He doesn’t answer. 

Instead, his hand moves before you can stop it, fingers brushing your jaw before curling around it. His thumb drags across your cheek, soft and rough all at once, and the fight bleeds right out of you.

You hate it—how easily he does this. How he turns everything you feel into static. He always does it. Distracts. Deflets. Avoids the question that could change everything. And you let him. You always do. Because when he looks at you like that, when the delicate pad of his thumb tilts your chin up just enough, the words die on your tongue instantly. 

“Heeseung—”

But the rest never comes. Because his mouth crashes into yours in his signature hard, messy way. Your back hits the locker before you can think about what that means. His lips are perfect, almost like they were moulded for you. It’s that premise alone that tells you why you’re still a secret. Why you’re stuck here—caught in this stupid, secretive cycle you can’t seem to crawl out of. Because you’ve convinced yourself that part of him is perfect.

He kisses you harder, a hand fisting in your shirt, the other curling around your neck like he needs you close to breathe. The air between you charges, absorbing all of the frustration, the want, the confusion. You taste the anger on his tongue, the jealousy he won’t admit to.

“Heeseung—” you start, but the word dies when he presses you closer. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t what?” His voice is low, almost a growl, lips ghosting over your jaw. “I can’t take what’s mine?”

Your pulse stumbles. “I’m not–”

“I fucking dare you.” His forehead drops against yours. “Finish that sentence, Y/N, and I swear—”

“I’m not yours!”

He releases the wrinkled fabric of your shirt, his calloused fingertips travelling slowly along the curves of your body. Your stomach muscles flutter beneath his touch until his hands reach the worn denim at your waistband. He searches your eyes, hesitating until he sees your breath catch in your throat and your slight nod. The corner of his mouth curls into a knowing smile.

"If you're not mine," he whispers as his hands slip lower and lower until a finger brushes against your most sensitive spot, "why are you letting me touch you like this?"

You gasp, hands clutching around his wrist like you mean to stop him, but your hips roll into his touch, betraying you. He drags over your clit again, lazy and confident, making sure you feel every ounce of what this is. This isn’t affection. This is a claim. Raw possession. Control. Want. You feel it everywhere. 

He presses closer, crowding you against the locker, his bare chest firm as his teeth scrape the shell of your ear. “You think just because I haven’t given us a label, you’re not already mine?”

Your breath stutters. He chuckles. 

“Cute,” he hisses, tightening his grip on your hip. “So fucking cute.”

His name leaves your lips in a broken sound. 

"Shh."  

Then his hand is inside your jeans, past your underwear, and his finger sinks into you in one smooth, unforgiving thrust. The stretch is instant, burning, big, and your knees nearly give out. Honestly, they would have, if not for his arm snapping around your waist to keep you upright. He curls his finger inside you, slowly, deliberately. 

“You’re my dirty little secret. Mine. Understand?”

“That’s not—” you pant, your voice coming out embarrassingly breathy. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” His mouth tilts, amused. “You think I care about fair?”

“Heeseung, I’m—”

“You’re what?” He stills his hand inside you, making you whimper at the sudden absence of movement. “Mad at me?”

You glare at him, even as your thighs tremble. “It’s not funny.”

“No,” he agrees softly. “It’s not.”

He presses his forehead to yours again, thumb moving leisurely over your clit, steady enough to make you shake, light enough to deny you any relief.

“So go on,” he murmurs. “Tell me what I did wrong. What made you think another guy was allowed to make you smile?”

Your pulse kicks hard. He has no right to do this. You know it. You want to tell him so. Tell him that who you smile at, or flirt with or even kiss is none of his damn business!

“You don’t get to be jealous,” you whisper.

His eyes flash.

“Sweetheart,” he says, curling his finger just enough to remind you who’s in control. “This isn’t me being jealous.”

He presses deeper. You whimper.

“You don’t belong to anyone else but me.”

A shudder tears through you.

“I get possessive,” he adds. “There’s a difference.”

You shake your head, clinging to your pride like it might save you. You don’t know why you think that. It’s never saved you in the past. But all you know is, if you cum right now, like this, to his words, on his fingers, you’ll lose. He’ll be right.

“You want all the perks,” you manage, breathless, “of being my boyfriend… without the commitment.”

His smile turns wicked.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, voice dipping. “You want the big, shiny fucking label?”

“Maybe I don’t want you at all! 

It’s a lie. A pathetic, brittle lie. One you say just to rile him up. And oh—he hears it. He feels it. Every muscle in his body goes still. (You hate yourself for that because your vagina is aching). You’re not even sure it was all that worth it because the look on his face is not soft. Not wounded. No. Heeseung is dangerously quiet.

For one horrifying heartbeat, as his hand leaves you, you think he’s going to walk out of this locker room. But he doesn’t. He grabs you by the jaw and turns your face back to his, holding you still. His grip isn’t gentle. His eyes burn inches from yours.

“Say that again.”

You try to speak, but he squeezes harder. His thumb presses into your cheek until your lips part on instinct.

“Go on,” he says. “Say it again, Y/N. Repeat it.”

“Heeseung—”

He drops your face only to catch your hands instead, dragging your wrists above your head. He slams them against the lockers, pinning both in one palm. His other hand trails down your body, slow. Punishing.

“Say it.”

You swallow hard. “Maybe I don’t want you.”

Your voice trembles, and the weak sound gives you away. You know he hears it because he smiles. It’s not nice. It’s not sweet. Nothing about him ever is.

“Open your mouth.”

Your brows pinch at that. “W-what—”

His thumb finds your lips again, pressing past them before you can think to resist. He pushes down on your tongue insistently. Claiming space. Your pulse stutters.

“Open,” he repeats, firmer.

You do.

His eyes never leave yours as he pushes deeper, thumb shoving past your tongue until your throat tightens around it. Not choking, but close enough you can feel the control he has. He could choke you, but he won’t. You groan around his thumb, humiliated by how weak it sounds.

“Don’t want me, huh?” He rasps. “Then why are you drooling on my hand?”

You glare even as your cheeks burn, but he only presses harder until you gag around him. His favourite thing. Heat floods between your legs. Hot. Mortifying. He pulls his thumb free with a wet drag, smearing saliva down your chin. He watches it fall like it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Then—his hand is back between your legs, shoving your jeans down roughly, no patience left.

“No more bratty little speeches,” he growls. “You want rough? You want mean? Then I’ll give you something to cry about. Me. Because you’re mine, and you want me.”

He doesn’t even give you another second to argue. He spins you around making your chest hit the cold metal of the locker with a clang. His hand slams between your shoulder blades, pinning you there. You feel the cold as your cheek presses to the locker door as he drags your ass back toward him, yanking your panties down again without care.

He hisses when he sees your pussy bare and ready for him.

“Fuck. Look at you. You’re so wet for someone who doesn’t want me at all.”

You whimper, fingers curling uselessly against the locker slats. His hand comes down on your ass. A sharp thwack that has your skin stinging. Not to hurt you. To claim.

“I don’t want your whimpers, Y/N,”  He says. “Use your words.”

“Heeseung—”

“Try again.”

“…please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please—fuck me.”

His low laugh is pure sin. “That’s better.”

Then he’s pushing into you from behind. You have no choice but to gasp. To let your back arch and accommodate him. To let your legs shake because he’s so big. So rough. So impatient. And completely bare. 

He grips your hips, tight, you know you’ll bruise. Good. You want to bruise. You want to feel him tomorrow. Want proof he was here when you wake up aching. Because labels don’t exist between you. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever. So you’ll take what he gives. Always. And right now, this is the souvenir—finger-shaped bruises and the sting of his palm on your ass. 

“Fuck, you’re tight like this,” he groans into your ear, pressing flush to your back as he bottoms out. “Made for me. You know that? No one else gets to see you like this. No one gets to touch you like this.”

He thrusts so hard your body jerks forward and your forehead knocks the metal. It’s like he’s on a mission to knock the breath clean out of you. That drive has your moaning growing shameless. Helpless. Mixing with the sound of skin on skin. It’s all wet, filthy, echoing. 

Your nails scratch across the locker, but you can’t find leverage. He’s pounding into you too hard, too deep, too good. Especially when his hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast.

You cry out. 

“Shhh,” he breathes against your ear, still fucking you relentlessly. “Someone could hear you.”

He warns, but you don’t think he actually cares since he doesn’t slow down. You’d stop him if you could. If you really wanted to. But your own body clearly likes to torture you too, rocking back into every thrust like it was programmed for him. Like it’s been waiting for him. 

“That’s it,” he grits out. “Show me. Show me how much you don’t want me.”

You’d tell him to shut up. If you could think. But there’s no thinking left. There’s only him. His rhythm. His breath fanning hot across your neck. His voice in your ear and under your skin, filth coating every word like honey you can’t stop licking up.

His cock. His hands. His moans. His fucking audacity. 

You’re gone. 

You cum so hard your vision whites out. He fucks you through it, using your orgasm like it’s his right for his own. His hips slam against yours—harder, dirtier, hungrier—until he finally cums too. Thick and white, spilling into you and dripping down your thigh. 

You’re slick, messy and hot, and completely his. He doesn’t pull away immediately, just presses you against the cold metal lockers. 

In this moment, you don’t think you need labels. What you have with him is too inevitable—too consuming—to be reduced to a word. Maybe that’s his whole point. You’ll never exactly know. He’ll never tell you what this is. Never give you an answer. He keeps you claimed in private and erased in daylight. And maybe that should break you.

dominant anton ♡゙ ͙ᩙ

when he’s in dom mode he’s quiet but terrifyingly intense. he does not need to raise his voice. he just looks at you with those dark eyes and you already know you are in trouble. he will bend you over his desk without warning, one big hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you down while the other yanks your panties to the side.

“look at you… already dripping and i have not even touched you properly,” he murmurs, voice low and calm while he slides two long fingers inside you. “such a greedy little hole. you were waiting for daddy to come home and fuck you stupid, weren’t you?”

he fucks you hard and deep, hips snapping with that controlled power only he has, one hand fisting your hair to pull your head back so he can whisper the nastiest shit right in your ear. “feel that? that is me owning this pussy. you are so small under me… taking every inch like the perfect little slut you are for daddy.”

he will make you count every thrust, make you beg louder, make you look at him while you cum so he can watch your eyes roll back. and when he finally fills you up he stays buried deep, grinding slow circles while he kisses the tears off your cheeks and whispers “good girl… took daddy so well…”

submissive anton ♡゙ ͙ᩙ

then there are the nights when he just wants to be your good boy. he will crawl into your lap after practice, all tall and broad but so soft, resting his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

you can make him fall apart so easily. straddle his lap and kiss him slow and deep while your hand strokes him through his sweats. he whimpers into your mouth, hips twitching up, whispering “more… please… i will be so good…”

when you finally wrap your hand around his cock he lets out the prettiest broken moan, head falling back, eyes glassy. “thank you… thank you baby… your hand feels so good… i love you… i am your good boy, right?”

you can edge him for hours and he will just take it, tears in his eyes, begging so sweetly while you call him your pretty puppy, your sweet boy, your good toni. when you finally let him cum he sobs your name, shaking, clinging to you like you are his whole world.

the perfect switch ♡゙ ͙ᩙ

most nights he is both. he will start by bending you over and fucking you senseless, calling you his dirty little girl, his cockslut, his pretty toy… then the second you cum he flips, letting you push him onto his back and ride him while he looks up at you with those big shiny eyes, whispering “use me… please… i am yours… your good boy… your daddy… whatever you want me to be…”

he loves when you call him both. when you are riding him and you moan “good boy” he whimpers and thrusts up harder. when you tug his hair and call him “daddy” his eyes roll back and he fills you up instantly.