we rise

RIIZE

osaki shotaro

drabbles/oneshots trendsetter (m)

song eunseok

series gravity between us (m) - part 1 , part 2 | character instagram profiles • when new meets old (prequel pt.1) • when lines became blurred (prequel pt.2)(m) drabbles/oneshots that's my girl (m) freakum dress (m)

jung sungchan

drabbles/oneshots small girl (m) always yours (m)

lee chanyoung (anton)

drabbles/oneshots out of bounds (m)

NCT DREAM

lee jeno

drabbles/oneshots climb on (m) almost strangers (m)

ENHYPEN

lee heeseung (evan)

drabbles/oneshots love me wrong (m)

park jongseong (jay)

drabbles/oneshots just a taste (m)

park sunghoon

enhypen members are grown fucking ass adults why are some ot7s tryna talk about how they’re trapped like belift is fucking prison like do you NOT have a fucking JOB? have you worked for people before???? u know what maybe some of yall don’t cos that explains

talking about how whichever member cried or did gestures or whatever hinting they want heeseung back like get a fucking grip???

my company be taking me for granted all the time but that’s just how the fucking world is when you gotta earn a bloody living working for people people either choose to live with it or resign and guess what some idols choosing to not renew contracts or move or leave is no different from regular people hopping onto new jobs, sure stakes are different but that don’t mean they aren’t allowed to do it.

enhypen members are NOT held at fucking gunpoint like what in the fuck some of yall be reaching to the stars just to twist a narrative that suits yall

being an enhypen member is their fucking day job god forbid a member has creative differences is that SO hard to believe? give me a fucking reason why belift would kick out their most popular member? would YOU as an employer fire your star employee??? he is halfway to 30 do you think he has ZERO autonomy? is it so hard to believe that someone doesn’t want to do the same job for the rest of their lives?? again stakes are different but still, this isn’t unheard of in kpop.

I don’t like belift as a company but like can you all STOP infantilising a grown ass motherfucking adult? if he regrets leaving one day that’s on him you don’t have the right to TORMENT the 6 boys who are left about it and him to come back.

ot7s are behaving like fucking spoilt toddlers - screaming and throwing tantrums while embarassing their parents when they don’t get what they want GROW UP. life doesn’t orbit around you.

acting like a member leaving a group is unheard of GET IT TOGETHER. you can feel sad, you can feel angry, you can feel frustrated - but do it in YOUR OWN SPACE not at a fucking concert, showcase, lives and wherever that involves interacting with the members.

shame on you.

fucking parasocial the lot of you. the NERVE to openly disregard and disrespect the people you claim to love JUST BECAUSE they are tired of having to school you again and again and again to NOT do things that make them uncomfortable.

"no, seriously." she caught your wrist and dragged you beneath one of the driveway lights before you could make a run for the front door. "look at yourself. you knew exactly what you were doing."

your eyes instinctively dropped to the dress.

it hugged you perfectly. your makeup had taken almost an hour, your hair had finally decided to cooperate for once, and for the first time in weeks, you'd managed to look into a mirror without immediately thinking about someone else.

that had been the goal.

not revenge. not jealousy. just... yourself.

it had been exactly a month since you'd broken up with lee jeno. according to every friend you had, that was supposed to be enough time to start feeling like yourself again. apparently nobody had bothered informing your nervous system.

people assumed you'd left because of the fights. because of the rumours. because campus seemed to produce a brand-new story about jeno every other week, usually involving bruised knuckles, broken furniture or somebody making the catastrophic mistake of underestimating him.

none of that had been the reason.

the truth was almost impossible to explain without making yourself sound dramatic.

you hadn't fallen out of love with him.

if anything, that had been the problem.

loving jeno had slowly turned into managing him. every reckless decision somehow became your responsibility, every late-night phone call ended with someone asking if you could come because, somehow, you were the only person he'd actually listen to. every fight followed the same exhausting pattern: he'd flash that infuriating grin the second he saw you, his friends would visibly relax, and before you even had time to process what had happened, you'd somehow become responsible for cleaning up another disaster you hadn't created.

you loved him.

you still did.

but somewhere along the way, you'd stopped feeling like his girlfriend and started feeling like the emergency contact everyone called whenever lee jeno inevitably became lee jeno.

"tonight," karina declared as she linked her arm through yours and steered you toward the front door, "you are legally prohibited from thinking about him."

you glanced sideways at her. "legally?"

"i've decided i'm the government."

"that feels unconstitutional."

"don't care."

despite yourself, you laughed.

"if i catch you looking sad," she continued, "i'm throwing my drink at somebody."

"you say that like you need a reason."

"exactly."

the party swallowed you the second you stepped inside. music shook the walls, somebody was already dancing on the kitchen island, and you recognised at least half the faces crowded into the living room. for the first hour, things felt surprisingly... normal. you danced with karina, accepted two drinks you definitely didn't need, and found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks.

that was probably why you didn't notice the atmosphere change straight away.

it wasn't that the music stopped or people suddenly went quiet. conversations continued, laughter still echoed through the room, but something subtle shifted beneath it all. people near the entrance started glancing in the same direction almost instinctively, the way animals seemed to sense a storm before the first drop of rain ever hit the ground.

your stomach tightened before your eyes even followed theirs.

lee jeno had arrived.

he wasn't making a scene. he never needed to. he wandered in with three of his friends, listening to something one of them was saying while lazily spinning one of the silver rings around his finger. his shoulders were relaxed, his hoodie sat half-zipped, and he looked exactly like someone who'd shown up because he'd been bored and decided a party sounded marginally more entertaining than staying home.

then he saw you.

whatever his friend had been saying immediately ceased to exist.

his gaze settled on you with quiet curiosity, travelling from your heels to the hem of your dress before finally finding your face again. he didn't look angry. if anything, he looked... amused.

slowly, almost imperceptibly, he smiled.

you felt your heart sink.

"oh, no," karina murmured beside you.

you didn't take your eyes off him. "what?"

"he looks happy."

that, unfortunately, was exactly the problem.

most people assumed lee jeno was dangerous when he looked angry.

the people who actually knew him understood the opposite was true.

angry jeno was predictable. when he was angry, somebody had usually said something stupid, started a fight or looked at him the wrong way, and everyone knew how the evening was going to end. smiling jeno, however, was impossible to read.

sometimes it meant he'd found something funny. sometimes it meant he was about to do something that would have half the room questioning his sanity. the problem was that nobody, not even the people closest to him, ever seemed to know which version they were getting until it was too late.

you tore your eyes away before you could think too much about it.

whatever expression was sitting on his face wasn't your problem anymore.

that had been the entire point of the breakup.

for the past month, you'd repeated that to yourself so often it had almost become convincing. you weren't responsible for wondering whether he'd gotten himself into another fight, whether he'd remembered to eat something that wasn't instant noodles, or whether one of his friends would inevitably end up calling you at two in the morning because he'd done something spectacularly reckless. those habits were proving much harder to break than the relationship itself, but you were trying, and that had to count for something.

"don't," karina said quietly, following your line of sight without even pretending she wasn't. "whatever's going on inside that head of yours, stop."

you let out a small laugh.

"i wasn't thinking about anything."

"you're a terrible liar."

you sighed and conceded. "i've always been a terrible liar."

"exactly."

she linked her arm through yours and nudged you gently toward the kitchen, where somebody was aggressively insisting that tequila solved every known problem in existence. "one month," she reminded you. "you've survived one month already. don't let one smile ruin all that progress."

"i wasn't planning to."

"good."

"i'm just..."

you hesitated, searching for the right word before eventually giving up.

"confused."

karina looked at you.

"why?"

"because he isn't doing anything."

that made her glance across the room again.

for a few seconds, neither of you spoke.

jeno was still standing near the entrance with his friends, listening—or at least pretending to listen—to whatever story one of them was telling. every now and then he'd nod, or laugh under his breath, or answer with a comment that earned another round of laughter from the group. to anybody else, he looked completely normal.

except every single time the conversation lulled, his eyes drifted back to you.

not in a way that felt territorial.

not even jealous.

if anything, he looked... curious.

like he'd stumbled across a question he couldn't quite answer.

"...okay," karina murmured slowly. "that's actually a little creepy."

you frowned.

"right?"

"he usually would've walked over by now."

"i know."

"or interrupted."

"i know."

"or done literally anything."

"exactly."

instead, he stayed where he was, making no effort whatsoever to close the distance between you. somehow that unsettled you more than if he'd marched straight across the room the second he'd arrived. that would've been predictable. this wasn't. it was as though he'd seen you, decided that approaching you wasn't the answer, and settled for quietly observing instead.

the thought shouldn't have bothered you as much as it did.

you looked away, determined to enjoy the rest of the evening, and for a while it worked. somebody handed you another drink, a girl from one of your tutorials dragged you into a conversation about exams, and the noise of the party gradually swallowed your thoughts again.

then, almost absentmindedly, you looked up.

your eyes found him immediately.

he hadn't moved.

worse still, he smiled the second he realised you'd looked back.

he hadn't moved.

worse still, he smiled the second he realised you'd looked back.

it wasn't smug, and that somehow made it infinitely more irritating. there wasn't a trace of triumph in it, no silent caught you. if anything, he looked... pleased. like you'd just confirmed something he'd been quietly wondering about all evening.

you immediately looked away again.

"absolutely not," you muttered under your breath.

"i'm getting another drink," karina announced suddenly. "do you want one?"

you looked down at the cup still half-full in your hand.

"i'm good."

"don't disappear."

you smiled.

"i'll try."

"i mean it."

"rina."

"what?"

"he's not going to kidnap me."

she looked across the room at jeno before looking back at you.

"...i'm not completely ruling it out."

you laughed despite yourself, shaking your head as she wandered toward the kitchen.

left on your own, you leaned lightly against the edge of the dining table and took another sip of your drink, letting the noise of the party settle around you again. conversations overlapped from every direction, somebody near the speakers was passionately arguing that the playlist had peaked an hour ago, and a group of seniors had somehow convinced themselves they could play beer pong using decorative crystal glasses borrowed from the host's parents.

it almost felt normal again.

almost.

your gaze wandered before you could stop it.

this time, you found him laughing.

one of his friends had apparently just finished telling a story, and jeno tilted his head back with an easy grin that looked so effortless it caught you off guard. it wasn't the laugh that surprised you—you'd always known he laughed easily—but the way it disappeared almost immediately after.

his eyes searched the room.

they found you.

and just like that, everything else ceased to exist.

he didn't wave.

didn't gesture for you to come over.

didn't even acknowledge that you'd caught him looking.

he simply held your gaze for a few quiet seconds before lifting his cup in the smallest, almost imperceptible salute.

the gesture was so casual, so absurdly normal, that you found yourself staring before you realised what you were doing.

he smiled again.

then, as though completely satisfied with whatever conclusion he'd reached, he turned back to his friends and continued the conversation as if nothing had happened at all.

you frowned.

"what on earth are you doing?" you murmured to yourself.

for the first time since the breakup, you realised something that made your stomach twist.

you understood jeno when he was loud.

you understood him when he was reckless.

you understood him when he was impossible.

this version of him—

quiet.

patient.

content to simply watch—

you had absolutely no idea what to do with.

you'd barely finished your second drink when someone called your name from behind.

turning around, you found a vaguely familiar face smiling at you.

"i knew that was you."

you frowned for a second before recognition finally clicked.

"sion?"

"thank god." he laughed, pressing a hand dramatically against his chest. "i was starting to think i'd have to pretend i wasn't talking to you."

you couldn't help smiling.

"sorry. you look different without a laptop in front of you."

"i'll choose to take that as a compliment."

"please don't."

he laughed again before leaning casually against the kitchen island beside you.

"i didn't know you knew the host."

"i don't."

"...that's reassuring."

"karina does."

"ah."

he nodded thoughtfully.

"that makes significantly more sense."

for the first time all evening, the conversation came easily.

sion was exactly how you remembered him from class—easygoing, a little awkward, and incapable of telling a story without getting distracted halfway through. he had a habit of laughing at his own jokes before reaching the punchline, which somehow made you laugh even harder.

"...and then i realised i'd been defending the wrong presentation for almost fifteen minutes."

you stared at him.

"you're kidding."

"i wish."

"what happened?"

"she just looked at me and said..." he lowered his voice into a painfully accurate impression of your lecturer. "'mr oh, while your confidence is admirable, this isn't your assignment.'"

you burst out laughing.

"no."

"yes."

"please tell me you're lying."

"i've never wanted to disappear more in my life."

you shook your head, still smiling.

"that's actually tragic."

"thank you. i needed someone to appreciate my suffering."

"i appreciate it immensely."

"good."

he pointed at you.

"because i'm still emotionally recovering."

your laughter faded into an easy smile.

it felt...

normal.

refreshingly so.

there were no rumours attached to sion. nobody lowered their voice when they said his name. nobody instinctively stepped aside when he walked into a room. talking to him didn't feel like standing next to a lit match.

it just felt easy.

"...can i ask you something?"

"sure."

"did you actually understand today's lecture?"

you groaned.

"don't even remind me."

"so that's a no."

"i understood maybe thirty percent of it."

"perfect."

he looked genuinely relieved.

"i was worried i was just stupid."

"i've got terrible news for you."

his face fell.

"what?"

"i understood thirty percent because i stopped listening after the first twenty minutes."

he stared at you for a second before laughing.

"okay, that's fair."

without thinking, he reached over and lightly nudged your arm.

"see? i knew talking to you would make me feel better."

the gesture barely registered.

it was casual.

friendly.

completely innocent.

but somewhere across the room—

jeno noticed.

his conversation stopped mid-sentence.

not long enough for his friends to notice.

just long enough for his eyes to drift toward the hand resting briefly against your arm.

his expression didn't change.

if anything, the smile remained exactly where it had been.

which, somehow, made it worse.

he watched as you laughed at something sion had said, tilting your head back the same way you always did when you found something genuinely funny.

he'd seen that laugh a hundred times.

he'd never realised how loud your laugh was until it belonged to someone else's conversation.

a sudden commotion near the entrance pulled you out of your thoughts.

heads turned almost instinctively.

someone had bumped into jeno.

it wasn't much. a shoulder clipping his arm as they squeezed through the crowd, enough to send a little of the drink in the boy's hand sloshing over the rim of the cup.

the first-year froze immediately.

"s-sorry."

you recognised him almost at once.

a first-year from the business faculty.

a few months ago, he'd accidentally spilled coffee over jeno's trainers outside one of the lecture halls. before you'd managed to step in, jeno had already grabbed him by the collar and shoved him hard enough into the lockers to leave half the corridor staring. you still remembered the look on the poor boy's face when you'd pulled jeno away, somewhere between terrified and completely convinced he was about to die.

apparently he remembered too.

because instead of looking at jeno, the first-year's eyes darted straight to you.

almost instinctively.

like he was checking whether you were close enough to stop whatever came next.

jeno noticed. of course he noticed. his gaze flickered briefly toward you before settling back on the boy.

for a second, nobody moved. one of his friends had already gone quiet.

the people closest to them had taken a subtle step backwards.

everyone was waiting.

waiting to see which version of jeno had shown up tonight.

"watch where you're going," he said flatly.

"s-sorry, i didn't—"

"yeah."

another pause. the boy looked ready to apologise another five times.

instead, jeno jerked his chin toward the hallway.

"get lost."

the first-year blinked.

"...what?"

"you heard me."

the boy didn't need telling twice. he muttered another apology before practically disappearing into the crowd.

the people nearby exchanged confused glances before slowly returning to their own conversations, the tension dissolving almost as quickly as it'd appeared.

you couldn't stop staring.

that...

wasn't what you expected.

he caught your expression from across the room. one corner of his mouth lifted. almost like he already knew what you were thinking.

and somehow, that irritated you even more.

because a month ago, he would've thrown the first punch.

tonight, he'd simply let the boy walk away.

you weren't sure which version unsettled you more.

it irritated you enough that eventually you decided you needed air before you snapped.

without telling anyone, you slipped upstairs and climbed the narrow staircase leading to the rooftop terrace. the cool night breeze hit your skin immediately when you stepped outside, and you closed your eyes for a second in relief.

finally.

quiet.

the city lights stretched endlessly beneath the rooftop, glowing gold against the darkness. you walked toward the railing and rested your arms against it, trying to calm the frustration buzzing beneath your skin.

the rooftop door opened behind you less than a minute later.

you didn’t even turn around. you recognised the smell of that cologne anywhere, a custom mix of two different ones because jeno couldn't decide which one he liked better.

“you’re unbelievable,” you said flatly.

jeno shut the door behind him. “you disappeared.”

“i came upstairs for five seconds.”

“you left with no jacket.”

you laughed once under your breath and turned toward him. “you're fucking kidding me.”

his gaze moved over you again, slower this time, and it made your entire body tense in annoyance because even after everything, he still knew exactly how to look at you in a way that made you feel too aware of yourself.

“that dress is too short.”

“there it is.”

“you tryna get someone’s attention?”

“i wore it because i look good.”

“you do.”

the answer came immediately. it irritated you more than if he had insulted you.

you folded your arms. “what do you want?”

jeno walked closer until he stood only a few feet away from you. “to talk.”

“we’ve had this conversation already.”

“no, you talked. then you blocked me on everything.”

“because we broke up.”

his jaw tightened slightly.

“you keep saying that like i agreed to it.”

you stared at him in disbelief. “you don’t get to disagree with a breakup, jeno.”

“watch me.”

“oh my god.”

you pushed yourself off the railing. “this is exactly why i left you. you’re insane.”

his expression barely changed. “you still love me.”

“that’s not the point.”

“so you do.”

“i didn’t say that.”

“you didn’t deny it either.”

you groaned in frustration and headed toward the rooftop door. “i’m done with this conversation.”

but the second you grabbed the handle and twisted, your expression changed.

the door didn’t move.

you frowned and pulled harder.

locked.

“what the hell?”

jeno walked over behind you slowly. too slowly.

you turned immediately. “did you do this?”

“what?”

“the door is locked.”

he reached past you and tested the handle himself with an annoyingly convincing look of confusion. “huh.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you are such a liar.”

“i didn’t lock it.”

“did you tell one of your idiot friends to do it?”

“no.”

a pause.

“jeno.”

“what? maybe it’s fate. you keep running away from me.”

“because i don’t want to talk to you.”

“you’re talking now.”

you shoved his shoulder hard, but he barely moved.

“you’re actually crazy.”

“and you’re still beautiful when you’re angry.”

you glared at him. “i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

the confidence in his voice made your blood boil because the worst part was that he genuinely believed it.

jeno leaned against the rooftop door casually while looking down at you, completely unbothered by the fact that you were seconds away from losing your temper.

“you’ve been avoiding me for a month.”

“thanks for stating the obvious.”

“you ignore my texts.”

“that’s the point.”

“you were real friendly with the guy downstairs."

you scoffed. “you mean the normal guy who doesn’t threaten people for fun?”

his eyes darkened instantly.

“was he funny?"

“oh my god, who cares?”

“i care.”

“well, stop.”

for the first time that night, something genuinely angry flashed across his face.

“you think i’m just supposed to watch you move on?”

“well yes.”

the answer came so quickly it stunned him into silence for a second.

and suddenly you could see it clearly — the exhaustion beneath his anger, the sleeplessness in his eyes, the way his hands flexed like he was physically restraining himself from grabbing you and pulling you against him like he used to.

“you really don’t give a shit anymore?” he asked quietly.

your chest tightened despite yourself.

because that wasn’t true.

that was the problem. for the first time tonight, jeno wasn't playing any games. for the first time ever since you broke up, he felt like you were truly gonna slip away from him for eternity.

“let’s talk baby,” he came closer to you, voice laced with a sense of nervousness that only you were able to tell.

“there’s nothing to talk about!”

“there is.” his hand caught your wrist, fingers circling, thumb pressing into your pulse point. “i fucked up. i know. but i’ve been losing my mind without you. every time i see you laughing with someone else, i want to rip them apart.. i’ll - fuck i’ll tone down the fighting, i’ll just -”

for the first time since you’ve dated each other, he was actually anxious.

“i don’t know how to say it right.” his voice cracked, just a little. he tugged you closer, his forehead resting against yours. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry for the shit i did. but i can’t let you go. you’re it for me, princess. you’re the only thing that’s ever felt real.”

you wanted to stay angry. you wanted to push him away, scream, claw at him until he let you go. but your body betrayed you—the heat of him, the familiar weight of his hands, the way his thumb traced lazy circles on your wrist. a month of no contact, of pretending you didn’t miss the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and now you were trembling.

“jeno.” it came out weak.

“let me show you.” his lips ghosted over your cheek. “let me prove i still know how to make you feel good. just tonight. then we can talk tomorrow. i’ll fix the door, i swear, but… let me have this.”

you should have said no. should have fought harder. but the cold air had seeped into your bones, and he was warm, and you were so fucking tired of pretending you didn’t want him. karina can lecture you about it later.

“you’re an asshole,” you whispered.

“yeah. your asshole.” he smiled, a real one, and it softened the hard lines of his face. then he kissed you. hard. hungry. his tongue slid against yours, and you melted into it, your hands fisting in his jacket. a month of denial crashed down, and you kissed him back like you were drowning.

he groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down your waist, gripping your hips through the thin fabric of your dress. “fuck, i missed you. missed this.” he bit your lower lip, tugging, and you gasped. his fingers found the hem of your dress, bunching it up until the cold air hit your thighs.

“jen, the door—someone could come up—“

“they won’t.” he pulled back, his eyes dark and serious. “i told jaemin to lock it and keep everyone away. gave us an hour.”

your breath caught. “you—you planned this?”

“had to get you alone somehow.” he kissed your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse. “you wouldn’t talk to me. you wouldn’t even look at me. this was the only way, princess. forgive me?”

you should have been furious. instead, you were wet. the audacity of it, the raw desperation—it turned you on more than you wanted to admit. you tilted your head back, giving him more access, and he took it, sucking a mark into your collarbone.

“i hate you,” you breathed.

“no, you don’t.” his hand slid between your thighs, pressing against the damp fabric of your panties. “you’re soaked, baby. you missed me too.”

you didn’t deny it. couldn’t. he hooked a finger under the lace, pulling it aside, and then his fingers were on you—calloused and rough, sliding through your slick folds. you bucked into his touch, a moan escaping your lips.

“that’s it. let me hear you.” he found your clit, circling it with practiced precision, and your knees buckled. he caught you, guiding you back until you were pressed against the cold brick wall of the rooftop shed. “been thinking about this every night. jerking off to the memory of your pussy gripping my cock.”

“jeno—fuck—“

he pushed two fingers inside you, stretching you, and you cried out. his thumb kept working your clit, pressing hard, and he watched your face with that predatory intensity that always made you feel like prey—but in the best way. he curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

“you’re so tight. so perfect.” he pumped his fingers, faster, deeper, the sound of your wetness obscene in the night air. “gonna make you come on my hand first. then i’m gonna bend you over this railing and fuck you until you remember who you belong to.”

you were close, the pressure coiling in your belly, but you weren’t ready to give in. “i don’t belong to anyone.”

“yeah, you do.” he pressed his thumb harder against your clit, and you screamed, your orgasm crashing through you. your walls clenched around his fingers, and he kept pumping, drawing it out until you were shaking and gasping against the wall.

“good girl.” he pulled his fingers out, sliding them into his mouth, sucking them clean. “taste so sweet.”

your dress was rucked up around your waist, your panties hanging uselessly off one hip. he pushed them down, letting them fall to the gravel. then he unbuckled his belt, the clink of metal loud in the silence. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip glistening with precum.

“turn around. bend over the railing.”

you hesitated for only a second. then you obeyed, gripping the cold metal, arching your back. "good fucking girl."

the dress rode up, exposing your bare ass. he moved behind you, his hands gripping your hips, his cock pressing against your wet entrance.

“i’m sorry,” he muttered, the words rough and awkward. “for everything. i don’t know how to be the guy you deserve. but i’m trying. i’m trying, princess.”

then he pushed inside you, and all coherent thought dissolved. his teeth found the side of your neck and made his mark there before licking and sucking a hickey onto it.

he filled you completely, stretching you, the friction perfect. he gave you a moment to adjust, then pulled out and thrust back in, a steady rhythm that quickly grew frantic. his hand snaked around to your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts, and you moaned into the night.

“fuck, you feel better than i remember.” he spanked your ass, the sharp sting making you clench around him. “look at you, taking my cock like a fucking dream. missed this pussy. missed your tight little cunt.”

he drove into you harder, faster, his balls slapping against your clit. the rooftop lights cast long shadows, and you could see the city below, oblivious to the raw, desperate sex happening above. the thought only made you wetter.

“jen, i’m gonna—“

“come for me, baby. come on my cock.” he pressed down on your clit, and you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you like a wave. he kept thrusting, chasing his own release, but you were too sensitive, bucking against him.

“wait—too much—“

“one more.” he slowed, but didn’t stop, grinding deep inside you. “come on, princess. you can give me one more. for me.”

he pulled out, and before you could catch your breath, he spun you around, lifting you up. your legs wrapped around his waist, your back hitting the wall again. he lined himself up into your gaping pussy and sank back into you, this time face to face.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss, messy and desperate. he fucked you slow and deep, his eyes locked on yours, his forehead pressed against yours.

“i’m not good at words,” he whispered. “but i need you back. i need you, and i don’t care how much i have to change. i’ll burn the world down for you. just… come back to me.”

you couldn’t speak. the emotion in his voice—raw, broken, real—cracked something inside you. you kissed him, hard, and he groaned into your mouth, his thrusts becoming erratic. "this pussy was fucking made for me."

“i’m gonna fill you up,” he growled. “gonna put my cum deep inside you, and you’re gonna walk around downstairs knowing you’re still mine.”

“yes,” you gasped. “do it—please—“

he drove into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and you felt his hot release spill inside you, wave after wave. you came again, a smaller, shuddery orgasm, clenching around him as he pulsed inside you.

he held you there, both of you panting, sweat-slicked and trembling. he pulled out slowly, his cum dripping down your thigh. he caught it with his fingers, pressing it back inside, his eyes dark and possessive.

“you’re not leaving this rooftop until i hear you say you’ll try,” he said, voice husky. “even if we have to do this a few more times.”

you laughed, weak and breathless. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re mine.” he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. “please, princess. say yes."

you looked at him—the fighting scars, the rough edges, the vulnerable flicker in his eyes—and you knew you were lost.

"come on, let's ditch this and go back so you can sit on my face.”

“fine. but you’re sleeping on the sofa for a month.”

he grinned, wide and boyish, and pulled you into another kiss. the door was still locked, but the night was young, and there was plenty of time to argue about the future. right now, you had his cum leaking down your thigh and his arms around you, and for the first time in a month, it felt like home.

punching an innocent guy for talking to you? for asking your number because he wanted to reach out to you about the project you two were assigned to? granted there was a friendly hug but nothing major. the scene happened at a fucking café. you can’t even show your face there again.

just thinking about it infuriates you.

the zipper slid shut with a deliberate pull, the sound sharp in the quiet room, final in a way that made your chest tighten, but your hands didn’t stop moving; you folded another shirt, smoothed it down, placed it into the suitcase like you could control at least this one thing, like if you stayed calm enough you wouldn’t break. the decision had already been made somewhere deep inside you, long before tonight, long before the shouting and the stares and the humiliation of watching him lose himself over something that didn’t need saving.

the front door slams so hard the walls shake, rattling picture frames, but you don't look up from the suitcase on the bed—your hands trembling as you fold another shirt and lay it inside, the silence between you heavier than any scream.

"what the fuck. baby you can’t keep storming out of places and make me chase after you i was looking for you for an hour why the fuck is your location off!"

his voice is low, dangerous, that tone that usually makes your stomach flip, but right now it just fans the flames of your anger. you keep packing, refusing to acknowledge him, but he's already crossing the room in those heavy boots, his tattooed hand clamping around your wrist and yanking you around to face him before you can react.

sunghoon's chest heaves under his black t-shirt, the ink on his arms twisting with every flex of muscle, his jaw tight and eyes blazing—but underneath the fury, there's something raw and scared that he's desperately trying to hide. "look at me when i'm talking to you."

"let go of me." your voice cracks, but you force it steady. "i can't do this anymore, sunghoon. this is toxic."

"I was protecting you!" he releases your wrist only to grab your face, palms cupping your cheeks and forcing you to meet his eyes. 

"you punched a guy for talking to me!"

"he was touching your arm!"

"talking, sunghoon! he was just talking!"

"i don't give a shit." his thumb strokes your cheek, rough but desperate. "you think i'm gonna let some asshole put his hands on what's mine?"

you shove at his chest, but he doesn't budge—solid muscle, all tattoos and tension—and he uses that bulk to crowd you against the dresser, the wood digging into your lower back.

"i'm leaving." your voice wavers despite your best efforts. "i've already called my sister—"

"the fuck you are."

in one fluid motion, he steps around you and slams the suitcase shut before tossing it off the bed, the heavy thud echoing as clothes spill everywhere.

"sunghoon!"

"no." he turns back, his eyes almost black, pupils blown wide. "you don't get to leave me. you don't get to walk out that door. i won't let you."

you try to make a run for it but he secures his grip on your arm, trying to yank you back to him.

"stop—fucking let me go!"

but instead of letting go, he wraps his arms around you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides as his chest presses against your back, and you feel his heart hammering through his ribs. his lips find your ear, hot and desperate. "please." his voice breaks. "please don't go. i know i fucked up. i know i'm crazy. but i can't—i can't without you. i don’t know how to be normal around you. you're the only good thing in my life. the only thing that makes sense. i’ve never had anything this good all to myself before i just get paranoid about losing this, losing you.”

you struggle, but his grip only tightens, insistent and unyielding.

"let me go, sunghoon—"

"no. never." he starts kissing your neck, soft at first, then harder—open-mouthed, desperate, his teeth grazing your skin. "i'll do anything. i'll go to therapy. i'll get help. just—please. don't leave me. i need you."

"sunghoon—"

"i love you princess." he turns you around, and now he's on his knees in front of you, looking up with those dark, pleading eyes. the sight of him—this big, rough, tattooed badboy on his knees—makes your breath catch despite yourself. "i love you so much it hurts. i love you so much i can't think straight. i know i'm possessive. i know i'm jealous. but it's because you're everything. everything."

his hands slide up your thighs, gripping the denim of your jeans, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above your knees. "i'll make it up to you." his voice is low, husky, dripping with need. "let me make it up to you. please. i just wanna love you. i just wanna worship you."

you should say no. you should walk out.

but then his fingers find the button of your jeans, and he's looking at you like you're the air he breathes, and your body betrays you before your mind can catch up. "sunghoon..."

"let me eat that pretty pussy, baby." his lips press against your stomach through your shirt, hot and reverent. "let me taste you. let me make you forget why you're mad."

"th-that's not—"

"i know." he looks up, and there are tears in his eyes—actual tears, glistening in the dim light. "i know i'm a mess. but you're my mess. and i'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you just stay."you don't answer with words—you just look at him, at the desperation and love and insanity all tangled together, and your hand moves to the back of his head, fingers threading through his dark hair. he takes that as the yes it is, and in seconds, your jeans are undone and pulled down your hips along with your black lace panties, though he doesn't even bother to take them off completely, just shoves them aside and pushes you back onto the bed. you land on your back, and he's already between your thighs, spreading them wide with a possessiveness that should terrify you but instead makes your pulse quicken.

"fuck, i missed this." his voice is reverent, almost a prayer. "i missed you."

his lips press to the inside of your thigh, kissing, biting, leaving red marks that will bruise tomorrow—marking you, claiming you, and god help you, you want him to. "sunghoon..." it comes out as a moan, breathy and wanting.

"that's right, baby. say my name." his tongue traces a wet path higher, closer to where you're already slick for him. "i wanna hear you scream it."

then his mouth is on you.

he dives in like a starving man, tongue flat against your clit, lapping at you with frantic, desperate strokes that make you gasp while your back arches off the mattress. one of his tattooed arms hooks under your thigh, holding you open, while the other hand slides up your body to pinch your nipple through your shirt, rolling the stiff peak between his fingers.

"oh god—"

"taste so fucking good." he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your wetness. "sweetest pussy i've ever had. all mine."

his tongue dips lower, circling your entrance, then plunges inside, and you cry out, hands fisting in his hair as he groans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. "fuck, you're so tight. so wet for me." he looks up, eyes dark and hungry. "you love this, don't you? love your man eating you out."

"yes—yes—"

"say it." he flicks your clit with his tongue, the tip tracing quick patterns. "tell me you love it."

"i love it! i love—ah!—your mouth on me!"

that's all the encouragement he needs. he latches onto your clit, sucking hard while his finger circles your entrance, then pushes in—one finger, then two, crooking them just right, hitting that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

"sunghoon—i'm—fuck—!"

"cum for me, princess." his fingers pump faster, curling with each stroke, while his mouth doesn't let up, his tongue flicking and sucking in rhythm. "cum all over my face. let me taste you."

and you do—you shatter, back bowing off the mattress as a gush of liquid floods his face, squirting against his tongue while he moans like it's the best thing he's ever tasted, drinking you down, not stopping until you're twitching and oversensitive beneath him.

"that's it." he crawls up your body, kissing a wet path up your stomach, your chest, your neck—his lips finally finding yours, and you taste yourself on him. "good girl. my good fucking girl."

but he's not done.

he pulls your shirt up and over your head, then unclasps your bra, tossing it aside without ceremony before his mouth finds your nipple immediately, suckling hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak until you gasp and arch into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

"your tits are perfect." he switches to the other, giving it the same attention—tongue circling, teeth nipping, his hand groping the soft flesh. "everything about you is perfect."

his hand slides down between your legs again, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that make your hips buck against his touch. "i wanna make you cum again. and again. i wanna feel you fall apart on my cock."

"then fuck me." you're already putty and sensitive for him, already desperate, the fight draining out of you and leaving only raw need. "sunghoon, please—i need you inside me."

he grins, that cocky, dangerous grin that makes your thighs clench instinctively. "that's my girl." he sits back on his heels, pulling his tank top over his head, and the sight of him—muscles rippling, abs tight, tattoos covering his skin, your initials inked over his heart—makes your mouth water. "you want my cock, baby? want me to fill you up?"

"yes—please—"

"then get on your knees and show me how much you want it."

you don't hesitate—you scramble off the bed, dropping to your knees in front of him, your hands already fumbling with his button and zipper while he watches you with hooded, hungry eyes. "so eager." his voice is rough, strained. "touch it."

you wrap your hand around his length, stroking slowly, feeling the weight and thickness of him, the tip already slick with pre-cum, and when you lean forward and take him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, he groans deep in his chest.

"fuck—" his head falls back, his hand gripping your hair, guiding you. "yeah, just like that. take it deep."

you relax your throat, letting him slide deeper, and he groans again, hips twitching as you hollow your cheeks around him. "such a good slut for me. only for me." he starts thrusting into your mouth, gentle at first, then harder, his rhythm building. "look at you. choking on my cock because you love it."

tears stream down your cheeks, but you don't stop—you want this, you want him, and you take him deeper until your nose brushes the base of his cock, your throat convulsing around him. he pulls out with a wet pop, then pulls you up, guiding your legs around his waist as he lays you back on the bed.

"now i'm gonna fuck you." he positions himself at your entrance, rubbing the tip against your slick folds, teasing you. "and i'm gonna cum so deep inside you. gonna breed this pussy. fill you up with my cum so everyone knows who you belong to."

"yes—yes—"

he slams into you in one thrust, both of you moaning as the sound fills the room—he's so deep, stretching you perfectly, and he pauses, letting you adjust with his forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot and ragged. "you feel that, baby?" his voice is wrecked, raw. "feel how good we fit together?"

"sunghoon—move—please—"

he starts fucking you slow at first, deep, deliberate strokes that hit your cervix with every thrust, and then he picks up speed, slamming into you hard enough to make the bed frame hit the wall, each impact driving a cry from your lips.

"whose pussy is this?"

"yours!"

"say my name."

"sunghoon—sunghoon—!"

"that's right." his hand wraps around your throat, not choking, just holding, his thumb pressing against your pulse. "i'm the only one who gets to fuck you. the only one who gets to make you cum. say it."

"only you—only you, sunghoon!"

he flips you over in one smooth motion, pulling out and pushing you onto your stomach before grabbing your hips and pulling you up onto your knees. he enters you from behind, doggy style—his favorite—and you feel every inch of him as he fills you again.

"gonna fuck you so good you forget about leaving." he slaps your ass, hard, the sound sharp in the room. "gonna fuck you until you can't walk."

his pace is punishing now—deep, fast, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust while you both sweat and moan, the sound of wet skin echoing around you. "touch yourself." his command is rough, breathless. "rub that clit while i fuck you."

your hand moves between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing in frantic circles while he pounds into you, the angle perfect, each thrust hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

"close—i'm close—"

"cum with me." he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back against him to change the angle even deeper. "cum all over my cock. now."

you shatter, your walls clenching around him as you cry out, and he follows with a guttural roar, pumping his hot cum deep inside you, filling you up while he keeps thrusting, riding out both your orgasms until you're both trembling and spent. he pulls out slowly, and you feel his cum leaking down your thighs, warm and wet.

but he's not done.

he flips you onto your back again, spreading your legs wide as he positions himself at your entrance, already hard again—and this time he's gentle, slow, sliding in with a tenderness that makes you gasp at the sensation of your mixed slickness coating him, the way he fills you completely.

"i love you." his voice is soft now, his eyes locked on yours, dark and sincere. "i love you so fucking much."

he makes love to you like that—slow, deep, romantic, missionary with your legs wrapped around his waist as he kisses you, soft and tender, while his hips rock against yours in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. "stay with me," he whispers against your lips, his breath warm and heat mingling. "please. i'll be better. i'll do anything."

"sunghoon..." you're crying now, tears slipping down your cheeks, and you don't know if it's from the emotion or the pleasure or the overwhelming mix of both.

"i know i'm crazy." he thrusts deeper, hitting that spot that makes you gasp, “i’m your crazy. and you're my everything."

his hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit again and rubbing in time with his thrusts, building you up once more.

"one more, baby. one more for me."

you cum again, harder than before, your body convulsing around him as he follows, spilling his seed inside you once more, filling you so full it's almost too much. he collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck, and you feel his tears on your skin, warm and honest.

"i'm sorry." his voice breaks, muffled against your throat. "i'm so sorry. i'll never hit anyone again. i'll control myself. just—don't leave. don't ever leave."

you wrap your arms around him, holding him close as his weight presses you into the mattress, comfort and exhaustion settling over both of you.

"i'm not going anywhere."

and in that moment, tangled in sheets and sweat and cum, you know it's the truth. for better or worse, this toxic, obsessive, all-consuming love is yours.

a good solid five minutes passed by. you're tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, his cum still warm and sticky between your thighs, leaking onto the mattress as he holds you, tracing lazy patterns on your hip. but the air shifts. his fingers, still slick with your mixed release, slide down your stomach, dipping between your legs before you can even react.

"sunghoon..."

"shh." his voice is a low rumble against your ear. "i wanna feel it."

his fingers push into your spent, sensitive pussy, gathering the thick cream that's dripping out—his cum, your cum, everything mingled together—and he presses it back inside, deeper, his thumb circling your clit as he works the mixture into you like he's claiming every last drop.

"look at that." he pulls his fingers out, glistening, and brings them to your lips. "taste us."

you open your mouth without hesitation, sucking his fingers clean, tasting the salt and musk of your combined arousal. his eyes darken, pupils blown wide, and you feel him hardening against your thigh—thick, heavy, already ready for more.

"you feel that, baby?" he guides your hand down to wrap around his cock, already slick with pre-cum. "feel how hard you make me? even after i just filled you up, i need more. i always need more."

"then take it." you're breathless, already aching for him again despite the soreness. "i need you inside me again."

he doesn't make you wait. he rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him, his hands gripping your hips as you straddle him, his cock sliding between your wet folds, teasing, coating itself in the cum leaking from your hole.

"ride me, pretty girl." his voice is rough, needy. "show me how much you want this."

you sink down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion, both of you moaning as he fills you again—his cum acting as lube, making every inch slide deep and slick. you pause once he's fully seated, feeling him twitch inside you, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise.

"fuck, baby... you feel that? that's my cum sloshing around inside you." he thrusts up, shallow, grinding against your cervix. "making a mess of this perfect pussy."

you start to move—slow at first, rolling your hips, finding a rhythm that makes stars dance behind your eyes. his hands find your breasts, pinching your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as you ride him.

"that's it. take what's yours." his eyes are locked on where your bodies meet, watching himself disappear into you. "look at you. taking all of me. taking my seed so deep."

the dirty talk sends a shiver through you, making you clench around him. "sunghoon..."

"i mean it, baby." he sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling your chest against his, and now you're chest-to-chest, his lips brushing your ear as he fucks up into you from below. "i wanna get you pregnant. wanna watch your belly swell with my baby."

"oh god—"

"think about it." his hand slides down to your stomach, pressing flat against it. "my cum taking root in here. making a little life. a little version of us." he bites your earlobe, hard enough to make you gasp. "then you'd never leave me. you'd be tied to me forever. carrying my legacy."

your pussy clenches so tight around him he groans, his hips stuttering. "you like that idea, don't you? you like the thought of being my baby mama. my pretty little breeder."

"yes—yes—"

"i knew it." his voice is triumphant, dark and possessive. "that's why you're so wet for me. that's why you're dripping. your body knows what it wants." he thrusts deeper, harder. "it wants my seed. wants me to fill you up over and over until it takes."

"i do—i want it—"

"then i'm throwing away those pills." he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze burning. "tomorrow morning. first thing. i'm flushing them down the toilet. you don't need them anymore. you're mine."

the thought should terrify you. instead, it sends a wave of heat straight to your core, and you moan, riding him faster, your hands gripping his shoulders as you bounce on his cock.

"fuck, you're so sexy when you're desperate for my cum." he grips your hips, guiding your rhythm, slamming you down onto him with each thrust. "i'm gonna breed this pussy until you're so full you can't walk straight. gonna keep you pregnant for years. give you a house full of babies so you never even think about leaving."

"yes—sunghoon—!"

"cum for me, baby." his hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing harsh circles. "cum on my cock while i fill you up again. let me feel you milk me dry."

the pressure builds—too much, perfect, overwhelming—and you shatter, squirting around him, a hot gush flooding his lap as you cry out, your walls convulsing so hard he can't hold back. he roars, thrusting up into you, spilling another thick load deep inside, pumping until you're both trembling and spent, your combined fluids dripping down his thighs.

he collapses back onto the bed, pulling you with him, holding you close as you both gasp for air, his softening cock still buried inside you, plugging you up.

"i meant it." his voice is hoarse, raw, but sincere. "every word." he presses a kiss to your forehead. "you're gonna be the mother of my children. and i'm gonna spend the rest of my life proving i deserve you."

you don't answer with words. you just curl into him, your hand resting on your stomach, feeling his cum warm and deep inside you, and you let yourself imagine it—a future where you're his, completely, irrevocably, bound by more than just obsession.

tied together by life itself. and it's the most beautiful, terrifying, perfect thought in the world.

he wasn’t flirting back. you knew that. that wasn’t the issue. it was her, the way she touched him like she had any right to, the way she pressed herself against him, acting like she belonged there.

something sharp and heated twisted in your chest.

and when her hand slid over his arm again, that was it. you set your drink down and pushed your way through the crowd toward them.

"sunghoon."

he turned, and his face lit up when he saw you. "princess! there you are, i was looking—"

"who's your friend?" your voice was ice.

"oh, this is—"

"the name’s sooha," the girl cut in, smirking at you. "we were having a really interesting conversation."

"i bet you were." you looked at sunghoon, your eyes flat. "i'm going home."

"wait, what?" he grabbed your wrist, gentle but firm. "baby, what's wrong?"

"nothing. you're having fun. i don't want to interrupt."

his brow furrowed. confusion flickered in his dark eyes. "princess, come on—"

but you were already pulling away, walking toward the exit, your heels clicking against the sticky floor. he caught up to you in the parking lot, his hand on your shoulder spinning you around.

"hey. hey. talk to me."

"you're so fucking oblivious, you know that?" your voice cracked. "she was all over you. touching you. flirting. and you just stood there like an idiot."

"she was just being friendly—"

"she was touching you, sunghoon. grabbing your arm. pressing her body against you. and you didn't even push her off."

his face softened. "baby, i didn't even notice. i swear. i was talking about the music. i wasn't paying attention to her."

"maybe you should have. maybe you should go back inside and find her. since she's so interested."

that made his eyes harden.

"what the fuck are you saying?"

"i'm saying maybe i'm just in the way. maybe you'd be happier with one of those sluts who don't care—"

"stop."

he stepped forward, his body blocking yours against the hood of his car. his hand came up, cupping your jaw, tilting your face to meet his gaze.

"you think i'm gonna let you fucking leave me?"

"sunghoon—"

"no." his voice dropped, low and dangerous. "you don't get to say shit like that and walk away. you think i give a fuck about some random girl at a bar? i have your initials tattooed over my heart. i wake up every morning thinking about you. i go to sleep every night dreaming about you. and you think i'd throw that away for some stranger who touched my arm?"

your breath hitched. the anger was still there, but something else was stirring beneath it. something hot.

"then why didn't you—"

"i didn't notice because i don't give a fuck about anyone else." he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. "but you know what i did notice?"

"what?"

"how good you looked tonight. that skirt. those thighs. the way your tits look in that top." his hand slid down your waist, gripping your hip. "i've been hard all night thinking about taking you home."

"liar."

"i'm not." he pressed his thigh between yours, and you felt exactly how hard he was. "feel that, princess? that's all for you."

his hand slid between your legs, pushing up your skirt. two fingers pressed against your thong, feeling the heat there.

"you're already wet. you get jealous, and you get wet, don't you, baby?"

"don't—"

"don't what?" he pushed your thong aside, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. "don't finger you right here on the hood of my car? in this parking lot where anyone could see?"

there was really no one at the parking lot thankfully and those within the vicinity were so drunk they probably would not have even noticed you two.

you gasped as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them just right. your hands flew to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt.

"sunghoon—"

"that's right, baby. say my name." he pumped his fingers in and out, his thumb pressing against your clit. "you were so angry at me. so ready to leave. but your pussy knows who it belongs to, doesn't it?"

"yes—fuck—"

he fucked you with his fingers, fast and rough, until your legs were shaking and you were moaning loud enough for the whole parking lot to hear. your first orgasm crashed over you, soaking his hand.

"good girl. that's my good princess." he pulled his fingers out, licked them clean, then grabbed your hand. "now get in the car. i'm not done with you."

*****

the moment the front door clicked shut, he was on you.

his mouth crashed against yours, hungry and demanding. his hands tore at your top, pulling it over your head, then unclasped your bra in one smooth motion. your breasts spilled free, and he groaned, dipping his head to wrap his lips around your nipple.

"so perfect. so fucking perfect."

he sucked hard, biting down just enough to make you gasp, then switched to the other. his hands pushed your skirt up, tore your thong off, and then he was lifting you, wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying you to the couch.

he laid you down, spread your legs wide, and buried his face between them.

"let me taste you, princess. let me taste how jealous you got."

his tongue dove into your pussy, lapping up your juices, then moved up to circle your clit. he sucked, he licked, he flicked his tongue against the sensitive nub until you were writhing, crying out, your hands fisted in his hair.

"cum on my face, baby. let me drink it all."

you came with a scream, your back arching, and he groaned, licking every drop, pushing his tongue inside you to fuck you while you rode out the aftershocks.

then he was on top of you, his cock already lined up, pushing in with one rough thrust.

"fuck—you're so tight, princess. so fucking tight."

he fucked you hard, his hips slamming against yours, his hand gripping your thigh to spread you wider. his other hand found your clit, rubbing fast circles.

"you think i'd ever leave you? think i'd look at another girl when i've got this?"

"n-no—"

"say it. say you know i belong to you."

"you belong to me—"

"that's right." he thrust deeper, hitting that spot that made your vision white. "and you belong to me. say it."

"i belong to you—sunghoon—please—"

"please what, baby?"

"please fuck me harder."

he gave you exactly what you asked for.

he flipped you onto your stomach, pulled your hips up, and slammed into you from behind. his hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as he fucked you, his balls slapping against your clit.

"you're mine. every inch of you. this pussy? mine. this ass? mine."

his thumb pressed against your tight hole, and you whimpered.

"please—yes—"

"you want daddy to fuck your ass, princess? want me to own you completely?"

"yes—daddy—please—"

he pushed his finger in slowly, letting you adjust, and the stretch was incredible. full. burning. perfect.

"fuck, baby, you love that don’t you? gonna train you to take my cock next time.”

he started moving his finger into your ass, and one hand reached around to rub your clit. the dual stimulation was too much. you came instantly, squirting all over his hand, your walls clenching around him.

"good girl. such a good girl, cumming for daddy."

he kept fucking you through it, pounding into your pussy until he was groaning, his hips stuttering.

"i'm gonna fill you up, princess. gonna breed this tight little pussy."

"breed me—daddy—please—"

he came with a roar, spilling deep inside you, and stayed there, grinding, making sure you felt every drop.

but he wasn't done.

he pulled out, flipped you onto your back, and pushed into your pussy again—still hard, still hungry.

"i'm not finished, baby. i'm gonna fuck you until you forget your own name."

round two. round three. you lost count.

he bent you over the arm of the couch, ate you out from behind, made you cum on his tongue. he had you ride him reverse cowgirl, your back to his chest, his fingers pinching your nipples while you bounced on his cock. he spread you out on the floor and fucked you missionary, your legs over his shoulders, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every thrust.

by the end, you were drenched in sweat and cum, your body limp, your mind hazy. he pulled you into his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.

"never threaten to leave me again, princess."

"only if you promise to notice when girls are hitting on you."

he laughed, low and rumbly. "deal. but you know i only have eyes for you, right?"

you traced the tattoo on his chest—your initials, right over his heart. "i know, baby."

"i'm obsessed with you. completely. i don't see anyone else."

you smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "good. because if you ever do, i'll kill you."

you barely manage a breath before he's on you, pinning you against the nearest wall. the cold drywall bites through the thin fabric of your dress, but the heat coming off his body swallows every chill. his hips grind into yours, the thick line of his cock already straining against his slacks, and he captures your mouth in a kiss that's more bite than tenderness.

"sunghoon—" you gasp, but he cuts you off with another bruising kiss, his tongue forcing past your lips, tasting you, claiming you, leaving no room for argument. his hands find your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks—no, brands. he wants them to last.

"don't," he growls against your mouth, pulling back just enough to lock his gaze onto yours. "don't tell me it was nothing baby. i saw the way you smiled at him. the way your body leaned into his touch."

"i did not fucking lean—"

"oh but you fucking did." a bitter, broken laugh escapes him, and he slams his palm against the wall beside your head. "you're mine. these curves—" he palms your ass, squeezing roughly, "—this waist—" his hand slides up, gripping your ribcage like he's measuring you, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast, "—this face—" he fisting a handful of your locks, tugging your head back to look at you, exposing your throat, "—all mine. and i'm going to remind you so fucking hard you forget that man's face, his name, his existence."

he drags you to the bedroom, not bothering with lights or ceremony. the only illumination comes from the streetlamp outside, slicing through the blinds and casting stripes of amber across the bed. he shoves you onto the mattress, and you bounce once, your dress hiking up your thighs. he stands at the foot of the bed, staring down at you like you're the last piece of salvation he'll ever have—and the only thing worth destroying.

he tugs his shirt over his head. the tattoo over his heart catches the dim light: your initials, inked in sharp black script, nestled just above his left pectoral, complementing the traces of ink all over his arms and back. he never let you forget it. every time you fight, every time he fucks you, he makes sure you see it. his mark, burned into his skin for life.

"look at it," he commands, voice thick. "read what's written on me. that's who owns this body. this heart. every fucking drop of my cum belongs to you, and every fucking inch of you belongs to me."

he unbuckles his belt with deliberate slowness, the metal clinking like a timer counting down to your undoing. his slacks drop, and his cock springs free—already hard, leaking pre-cum, the head glistening in the half-dark. thick. veined. the perfect instrument for the punishment he's about to deliver.

"on your hands and knees," he says. there's no room for negotiation. but as you start to turn, he stops you. "no. on your back. i want to see your face when i fill you. i want to watch your eyes roll back as i breed this tight little pussy."

he crawls onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs, and pushes your dress up to your ribs. he doesn't bother removing your panties—just rips them aside, the fabric tearing with a satisfying sound. his hand finds your cunt, two fingers sliding through your wet folds, gathering the slickness that's already pooled there, betraying how much you want this.

"fuck, you're soaked," he murmurs, almost reverently, but then his voice hardens. "were you this wet for him? when his hand touched you? did your little clit throb under his gaze?"

"no—only for you—"

"good answer." he leans down and takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, flicking the sensitive peak with his tongue until you arch into him, a moan tearing from your throat. as you squirm, his fingers part your lips and find your clit, already swollen and peeking from its hood, desperate for attention.

"i know how sensitive this is," he whispers, pressing the flat of his thumb against it and circling slowly, deliberately, watching your hips buck. "how much you love it when i play with your needy clit. but tonight, i'm not going to be gentle. i'm going to make you cum so hard you forget your own name and then i'm going to fill you with my cum until you can't walk."

he removes his hand and lines his cock at your entrance. no teasing. no slow push. he drives in to the hilt in one brutal thrust, and you scream—a mix of pain and pleasure that shatters the quiet. he's so thick, so hot, stretching you open around him, and he doesn't wait for you to adjust before he starts pounding into you.

each thrust is a declaration, a punishment, a promise. he fucks you with a desperate, obsessive rhythm, his hips slapping against yours, his balls slapping against your ass, the sound of wet skin filling the room. his eyes are locked on your face, drinking in every contortion of pleasure, every tear that escapes the corner of your eye.

"that's it," he grunts, his pace quickening. "take it. take all of me. this pussy was made for me. only for me. say it."

"only for you," you gasp, your words coming in ragged breaths. "oh fuck—sunghoon—i'm yours—"

"fucking right you are." he leans forward, capturing your mouth again, kissing you with a possessive fervor that leaves you breathless. one of his hands snakes between your bodies, finding your clit, rubbing tight circles around the aching nub. the dual sensation—his cock hammering your g-spot, his fingers abusing your clit—drives you toward the edge faster than you can control.

"please—please i'm gonna cum—"

"not yet," he growls, slowing his thrusts to a maddening pace, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back in with agonizing slowness. "beg better. tell me what you want."

"i want your cum—inside me—fill me up—breed me—please sunghoon—"

his eyes flash with something primal. "that's my good girl."

he starts fucking you again, faster, harder, his breathing ragged, his grip on your hip so tight you feel the bruises blossoming. the head of his cock slams against your cervix with every thrust, sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core, and you feel your walls starting to flutter around him.

"cum for me," he commands. "cum on my cock while i paint your insides white. i'm going to make you mine in the deepest way possible."

his thumb presses down on your clit—rubbing, pressing, circling—and the orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave. your back arches, your mouth opens in a silent scream, and your cunt milks his cock as he buries himself to the hilt, his own release surging hot and thick inside you. he stays there, grinding against you, pumping more and more into your depths, groaning your name like a prayer.

"fuck—take it—take every drop—"

when he finally stills, he remains inside you, his forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing heavily. he nuzzles your cheek, pressing soft kisses to your jaw, your lips, your eyelids.

"mine," he whispers, barely audible, his voice raw. "i'm sorry i lost my temper princess. but you drive me crazy, you know that?"

he softens inside you, but he doesn't pull out. he wraps his arms around you, rolling to the side, keeping your bodies connected, his cum already starting to leak around his cock. he pulls the blanket over you both, his hand splaying over your belly, possessive and gentle all at once.