Taro-kun

Since it's Saturday, the four of you ended up wine-drunk, sprawled across the living room sofas. With a random movie playing in the background that no one was really paying attention to. You four have been drinking since 6PM. There's really no celebration that leads you to drink the already empty bottles stacked on the table that told the story better than the screen did.

Eunseok lounges beside you, his arm slung possessively over your shoulders, his lips curling into a smug, lopsided grin as his fingers graze your skin. Sungchan, on your other side, sprawls back, his broad frame radiating heat, one hand clutching a glass, the other brushing your knee with every subtle shift, his eyes glinting with something dark and teasing. Shotaro claims the single sofa across from you, legs spread wide, his glass dangling lazily from his fingers, but his sharp, predatory eyes flicker to you, wedged between the other two, his jaw tightening with barely concealed hunger.

Your head swims, heavy and buzzing, your body molten from the wine’s lazy warmth. You’re a lightweight, useless with hard liquor, so it’s just wine, but even that fucks you up after a bottle or two, leaving your cheeks flushed and your thoughts slippery.

You don’t even know when… Eunseok’s chuckle rumbles low, his lips grazing your ear, his breath hot enough to make you shudder. His eyes, half-lidded and wicked, lock onto yours as he purrs, “You’re fucking wasted, baby,” his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on your bare thigh, each touch sparking heat that pools low in your gut.

“I’m fine,” you slur, voice thick, words bleeding together as you try to hold his gaze, but your lips betray you with a dazed, needy smile.

Sungchan shifts closer, his shoulder pressing into yours, his heat searing. His smirk is sharp, eyes dark with intent as he leans in, voice dropping low. “You’re fucking flushed, Y/N,” he murmurs, like he’s daring you to deny it, his gaze raking over your face, lingering on your parted lips.

Shotaro sips his wine, his eyes narrowing to slits, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he watches Eunseok’s hand creep higher up your thigh, fingers dipping just under the hem of your shorts. His lips twitch, a ghost of a smirk, but his grip on the glass tightens, knuckles whitening.

“Careful,” Sungchan growls, his hand snapping to your wrist, halting your fingers as they graze Eunseok’s lap. His grip is iron, grounding, his eyes burning into yours with a mix of possession and amusement, brows raised as if to say, Not yet.

You stare at him, half-dazed, lips parted, your breath catching. Eunseok scoffs, a dark, throaty sound, but doesn’t pull back. Instead, his lips find your neck, wet and hot, sucking softly as his eyes flick up to meet Sungchan’s, challenging him.

Your body sinks into the cushions, pinned between them, while Shotaro lets out a sharp, mocking laugh, shaking his head. His gaze lingers too long on your swollen lips, his pupils blown wide, betraying the heat simmering beneath his cool facade.

His untouched glass dangles forgotten in his hand. You catch Shotaro’s stare, your eyes glassy and heavy-lidded, and he smirks, a slow, dangerous curl of his lips.

“Y/N, here, baby,” Eunseok murmurs, tilting your chin toward him, his eyes dark and gleaming with lust. His lips crash into yours, lazy and wet, the kiss all tongue and teeth, loud and sloppy. His hand roams your thighs, then your chest, groping your tits through your shirt, making you gasp into his mouth.

Your hands slide down, fumbling over his crotch, feeling him harden under your touch. “Fuck, I wanna ruin you,” Eunseok rasps against your lips, his voice rough, eyes blazing with raw need.

Before you can respond, Sungchan’s voice cuts through, low and edged with jealous heat. “Hey…that’s not fucking fair.” He leans in, his lips brushing your cheek, then your jaw, his eyes half-lidded and hungry as he claims your mouth in a slow, filthy kiss, all tongue and wine-soaked heat.

Your head spins, dizzy from the switch, your hand slipping onto Sungchan’s crotch, stroking him as your other hand still works Eunseok’s hardening cock. “Uhmm~” You moan, soft and desperate, your body arching as Eunseok’s hand squeezes your tits, his palm rough and greedy, his lips curling into a wicked grin against your neck. You tilt toward Sungchan, giving him more of your mouth, while your other hand rubs Eunseok through his sweats. Both men groan in sync—one into your lips, the other hot and heavy against your ear, their faces twisted with pleasure.

“Fuck, she’s touching us both,” Eunseok breathes, his voice ragged, nipping your neck hard enough to leave marks, his lips slick as he sucks sloppily at your skin.

“Feels so fucking good, babe,” Sungchan growls, his grip on your thigh tightening, fingers creeping higher, brushing the edge of your shorts, his eyes flashing with a possessive glint. Your moans spill freely, shameless, the wine making you pliant and dripping with need.

You grind into Sungchan’s touch, chasing the friction, while Eunseok’s hand kneads your tits harder, his fingers pinching your nipples through the fabric, making you whimper. Their breaths clash, two mouths, two sets of hands, devouring your body.

Across the room, Shotaro’s chest heaves, his hand buried in his sweats, palming his cock as his eyes lock onto you, dark and unblinking. His lips part, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle a groan, but his flushed cheeks and heavy breathing betray him as he watches you unravel between Sungchan and Eunseok.

“Baby, you sound so fucking filthy,” Eunseok whispers, groaning when you stroke his cock harder, his eyes rolling back briefly before snapping back to your flushed, needy face.

“Channie, kiss me more,” you slur, tugging Sungchan closer, your voice dripping with desperation, lips swollen and slick. He obeys, claiming your mouth again, his tongue plunging deep, fucking your mouth slow and dirty while Eunseok’s hand slides lower, brushing your stomach…teasing the edge of your aching, soaked cunt.

The movie’s forgotten, drowned out by wet kisses, guttural moans, and Shotaro’s ragged breaths from the corner.

“Let’s take this off, yeah?” Eunseok growls, tugging your shirt up, his eyes glinting with feral intent. You nod, biting your lip hard, raising your arms.

“Yeah…ahhh~” Your voice cracks as Sungchan pinches your nipple, sharp enough to sting, making your back arch and your eyes flutter shut in a haze of pleasure-pain.

“So fucking soft,” Eunseok murmurs, his hand sliding lower, palm pressing flat against your stomach before dipping down, his lips twisting into a smug grin as he feels your heat.

“Seok…oh fuck, Chan~” you whine, head lolling back, your face flushed and lips parted in a needy, drunken pout.

“She’s fucking plastered,” Sungchan chuckles, voice deep and teasing, his hand still toying with your chest, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches you squirm.

“Careful,” Shotaro’s voice cuts in from across the room, low and steady, his hand still slow on his cock, his face tight with restraint, brows furrowed as he stares at you. “She’s still sore.”

“Cause you fucked her raw ‘til dawn, you greedy fuck,” Eunseok snaps playfully, earning a smug, unapologetic smirk from Shotaro, whose eyes stay locked on you.

You whimper, as if Shotaro’s words were meant for you, thighs twitching open wider, inviting Eunseok’s fingers as they find your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that make your eyes roll back and your lips part in a broken moan. Sungchan tugs your shorts down, his grin wicked as he watches them slide off.

“Bums up, baby,” he coaxes, peeling them off as you lift your hips obediently, your body bare now, sprawled between them.

Shotaro’s gaze burns hotter, his jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he strokes himself harder, watching you exposed and writhing. You’re naked now, shirt and shorts tossed carelessly on the couch arm. The cool air makes your nipples harden, sensitive and aching, Eunseok’s hand cupping one, squeezing hard, while Sungchan leans down, his tongue hot and wet, circling the other before sucking it into his mouth with a harsh pull.

His eyes flick up, dark and teasing, watching your face contort in pleasure. “Ahh~ Channie,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard as your lips part in a desperate, open-mouthed moan.

Eunseok chuckles against your throat, biting the skin, leaving red marks as his other hand slides lower, two fingers brushing your clit, testing your slickness. “Fuck, you’re soaked. You love being our little slut, don’t you?” His eyes gleam, watching your flushed face twist with shame and need.

You moan, nodding, lips trembling. “Y…yeah… feels so fucking good.”

Shotaro shifts on the sofa, his hand pumping his cock faster now, his breath hitching as he watches you arch, pushing your tits into Sungchan’s mouth and your hips toward Eunseok’s fingers. His face is flushed, eyes dark with lust, lips parted as he fights to keep control.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re a goddamn mess,” Sungchan murmurs, pulling back, his lips wet and shiny, grinning as he pinches your nipple again, making you yelp, your face scrunching in pained pleasure.

Eunseok spreads your legs wide, kneeling between them, his eyes black with hunger as he stares at your glistening pussy, lips curling into a filthy smirk.

“Seok, don’t stare…” you whine, trying to close your thighs, but Sungchan’s strong hands hold them apart, his grin wicked as he watches your flushed face.

“Don’t what? Don’t make you squirt all over me?” Eunseok taunts, sliding one finger along your dripping slit, tapping your clit hard enough to make you jerk, your lips parting in a shocked moan. “You’re so fucking wet I could fuck you raw right now.”

You whimper, clutching Sungchan’s shirt, but he just laughs low in your ear, his breath hot. “Answer him, baby. Slow and teasing, or you want him to wreck you stupid?”

“Slow,” you breathe, hips bucking as Eunseok slips one finger inside you, curling it deep, his face lighting up with a cruel grin as you gasp. “Ahhh…fuck, Seok.”

“That’s it,” he whispers, pumping his finger slow and deep, adding a second, stretching you as his eyes lock onto your face, watching your lips tremble and your eyes flutter. “Feel how tight you are? Gonna fucking destroy you with my cock soon.”

“Mm…ahh~” You squirm, but Sungchan’s hands keep your thighs spread, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your inner thigh, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Shotaro groans low, his hand gripping his cock tighter, stroking slow and deliberate, his face flushed, brows furrowed as he watches Eunseok finger-fuck you, your head thrown back, lips swollen, chest heaving.

Sungchan leans in, claiming your mouth in a wet, messy kiss, swallowing your moans. “Taste so fucking good,” he growls, tongue sliding against yours before pulling back to murmur against your lips, “Want Seok to make you cum first?”

Eunseok grins, fingers pumping faster, harder, his thumb grinding your clit with firm, relentless pressure, his eyes fixed on your face as it twists in pleasure. “Cum for me, baby. Show Taro how fucking pretty you look when you fall apart.” Your body arches, a broken, filthy moan ripping from your throat as your hips grind into his hand, the wet squelch of your pussy filling the room, mixing with your desperate whimpers.

“Fuck…fuck, I’m gonna…ahh~” You cry out, thighs shaking against Sungchan’s grip, your orgasm crashing through you, soaking Eunseok’s hand as your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs open in a silent scream.

He pulls his fingers out slow, smirking at the way your cunt clenches, dripping, and licks them clean, his eyes never leaving your wrecked face. “So fucking messy. You’re gonna be leaking all night for us.”

Sungchan kisses your temple, lips lingering as he whispers, “Good fucking girl. Took that like a champ.”

Your chest heaves, body trembling as you let out a soft, needy whimper, sinking into the cushions.

“Chan,” you murmur, hand sliding down his chest, over his stomach, until you palm the thick, throbbing bulge in his pants. You squeeze, rubbing slow, teasing circles, watching his face contort, lips parting in a low groan. “You’re so fucking hard…”

Sungchan chuckles, dark and satisfied, his hand closing over yours, pressing you harder against his cock. “Want this dick in you?” he growls, eyes burning into yours, his jaw tight with need. You shiver, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting as you nod, desperate.

You slide to the floor, kneeling between Sungchan’s thighs, your hands shaking with need as you fumble with his belt. Sungchan’s hand stays on your neck, thumb stroking your throat, tilting your face up. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, chest heaving as he watches you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re looking at me like you’re starving for cock,” he murmurs, voice rough, a smirk playing on his lips. You hum, lips parting, fingers tugging his belt open.

“I am,” you whisper, slow and shameless, your eyes locked on his as you drag his zipper down. His chuckle breaks into a groan when your hand slides over the thick, pulsing bulge in his pants, his face twitching with pleasure as you stroke him through the fabric. When you free his cock, it’s heavy, flushed red and leaking, throbbing in your hand. You lick your lips, dazed, stroking him slow as you lower your mouth, watching his eyes darken, his jaw clench.

Sungchan hisses as your tongue drags up the thick vein of his cock, the salty taste of his precum coating your lips. His hand tangles in your hair, guiding you down slow, his breath hitching, face twisting in pleasure as you take him into your mouth, wet and sloppy.

“Fuck, baby… deeper, take it all,” he groans, head falling back, lips parted as you suck him down, your throat tightening around him.

Behind you, Eunseok presses the blunt, leaking tip of his cock against your dripping cunt, circling it slow, teasing.

You jolt forward, a muffled whimper vibrating around Sungchan’s cock, your arms trembling as your back arches, offering yourself to Eunseok.

His smirk is audible, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

“Seok…ahh, fucking please, don’t tease,” you whine, pulling off Sungchan’s cock just enough to beg, spit and precum dripping from your lips, your eyes glassy and desperate as you look back at Eunseok’s smug face.

“Beg me again, slut,” Eunseok growls, eyes dark with lust, lips curled as he drags his cock through your slick folds. “I want to hear how bad you need this dick. You forgot about me, didn’t you?” Your nails dig into Sungchan’s thighs as you glance up at him, your face flushed and lips swollen.

“Sorry, baby. Please, Seok, fuck me… I need your cock inside me,” you plead, voice breaking with need.

Shotaro’s voice cuts through from the sofa, low and commanding, his face flushed, eyes dark as he strokes his cock slow, lips parted. “All fours, Y/N. Let them fucking have you, baby.” You bite your lip, eyes heavy, shifting to all fours, your body trembling with anticipation.

“Fuck, I love when Taro gets like that,” Eunseok mutters, his lips twisting into a filthy grin before he pushes into you, inch by agonizing inch, stretching your dripping cunt. Your body shudders, mouth falling open against Sungchan’s cock as Eunseok fills you, his face contorting with pleasure, eyes rolling back briefly.

“Ohhh fuck…Seok, you’re so fucking big…”

“Shhh, take it, slut,” Sungchan murmurs, pressing his cock back to your lips, his face tight with need as you open wide, moaning around him as he slides back into your throat. “Yeah, fuck, just like that.”

The room is a symphony of filth—Eunseok’s cock slamming into your soaked pussy, the wet slurp of your mouth choking on Sungchan, your muffled, desperate moans caught between them.

Eunseok groans, hips snapping harder, gripping your waist so tight it stings. “Fuck, Y/N… your cunt’s squeezing me so fucking tight. So goddamn wet for us. You were born to take cock.”

Sungchan’s grip in your hair tightens, controlling your pace as you gag on him, his face twisting with pleasure, eyes dark and locked on yours. “Look at me, baby. Let me see that fucked-out face while you choke on my dick.”

You obey, watery eyes meeting his, drool and precum dripping down your chin, pooling on your chest. He swears, thrusting harder, his lips curling into a cruel grin. “Fuck… you look so fucking ruined.”

Shotaro’s breath hitches from the corner, his hand pumping faster, his face flushed, jaw clenched as he watches you take both men. His voice is hoarse, commanding. “Arch deeper, baby. Let Seok fuck you harder. Show me how much you can handle.”

Eunseok groans at the words, pounding into you with brutal thrusts, his balls slapping your ass, your cunt clenching tighter with every stroke, the wet squelch obscene. Your moans vibrate around Sungchan’s cock, making him shudder, his face twisting in pleasure. “Fuck, she’s gonna make me cum…”

Eunseok pulls out almost fully before slamming back in, the sound of your dripping pussy echoing, his face contorted with raw need. “Fuck… this cunt’s gripping me so fucking good,” he growls, fingers bruising your waist as he buries himself deep.

Sungchan’s fist tightens in your hair, guiding you lower, his cock hitting the back of your throat as he groans, his lips parted, eyes rolling back. “Y/N… fuck, keep sucking. Take it deeper.”

Tears stream down your face as you choke on him, spit pooling, dripping onto your chest as his cock twitches against your throat. Shotaro stands, crouching beside you, his fingers brushing your cheek, wiping away spit and tears, his face tight with lust as he almost kneels beside you, stroking his cock faster.

“Good fucking girl. You love this, don’t you? Stuffed with cock in your mouth, your pussy… our dirty little slut.” You whimper around Sungchan, nodding, your face a mess of tears, spit, and need.

Shotaro’s thumb smears the mess across your cheeks, his eyes burning into yours as he jerks himself off, matching the rhythm of your choking on Sungchan’s cock. Eunseok slams into you again, his thrusts relentless, cock hitting deep, making your legs shake, your face scrunching in overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck… she’s clenching so fucking tight, she’s gonna cum,” he growls, his eyes locked on your trembling body. Your moans vibrate harder around Sungchan’s cock, your body shaking as pleasure coils tight. Your cunt spasms around Eunseok, your throat squeezing Sungchan, and both men groan, their faces twisting in sync.

“Shit… she’s cumming,” Sungchan hisses, hips jerking, his cock twitching against your tongue, his face flushed and lips parted in a snarl.

“Cum for us, Y/N,” Shotaro commands, voice low and final, his eyes dark and unyielding as he strokes himself faster. “Cum while you’re stuffed fucking full.” His words break you.

You whine around Sungchan’s cock, your orgasm ripping through you, cunt clenching violently around Eunseok’s cock, your body shaking as tears spill and your mouth gags.

“Fuck… she’s milking me,” Eunseok curses, pounding harder, his face contorted with pleasure as he chases his release. Sungchan’s hips snap once, twice, before he groans, cock pulsing, spilling hot, thick cum into your mouth, coating your tongue and throat.

“Fuck, Y/N… swallow it all,” he growls, his face twisted in ecstasy, lips parted as he watches you choke down his load.

Shotaro’s hand grips your hair, tilting your head toward him as he jerks himself faster, his face flushed, eyes burning. “Good girl. Swallow every fucking drop… look at me.”

Eunseok buries himself deep with a guttural groan, his cock throbbing as he unloads inside your spasming cunt, hot cum spilling out, dripping down your thighs with every shudder of your orgasm.

Shotaro’s rhythm falters, his cock jerking in his fist as he groans low, spilling thick, hot ropes across your face, painting your cheeks, lips, and lashes. His eyes lock onto yours, lips curled in a satisfied smirk. “Fuck. You look so pretty like this.”

Your body collapses, trembling, spit and cum dripping from your chin, thighs, and face. All three men stare, their faces flushed and sated, eyes gleaming as they take in your ruined, beautiful form. Theirs.

Eunseok leans forward, smearing Shotaro’s cum across your swollen lips with his thumb, his eyes soft but still hungry. “You okay, baby?”

You let out a small, drunken giggle, eyes half-lidded, face a mess of cum and tears, a lazy, fucked-out smile tugging at your lips. “Mhm… fucking dead,” you murmur, voice slurred and soft, your body melting into the floor.

Sungchan chuckles, deep and rough, his face glowing with a cocky, satisfied smirk as he kneels on your other side, his big hand sliding up your trembling thigh, fingers grazing the sticky mess Eunseok left behind. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re dripping everywhere,” he growls, eyes narrowing as he watches your lips tremble, your breath hitching at his touch. “Come on, baby, give us one more… you know you want it. I only got to cum ones.” His thumb brushes your oversensitive clit, making you jolt with a broken moan, your face scrunching in a mix of pleasure and exhaustion.

Shotaro, still crouched too, tilts his head, his sharp eyes locked on yours, lips curled in a dangerous, knowing smile. His hand strokes lazily over his half-hard cock, his face flushed, brows raised as he studies your wrecked expression. “Don’t play shy now, baby,” he coaxes, voice smooth but dripping with command, his thumb swiping a bead of his own cum from your cheek and pressing it against your lips. “Suck it clean, Y/N… show us how bad you still want us.” His eyes darken, watching your tongue flick out obediently, your face flushed and needy as you lick his thumb, a soft whine escaping your throat.

“Fuck, that’s our girl,” Eunseok purrs, his hand sliding down to cup your chin, tilting your face up so he can see your dazed, tear-streaked eyes. His lips part, a flash of teeth as he grins, watching you squirm under their combined attention. “You’re gonna cum for us again, aren’t you? Let us make that pretty pussy sing one more time.”

Sungchan’s fingers dip lower, slipping into your soaked cunt with a wet squelch, his face twisting with a hungry groan as you clench around him, your lips parting in a desperate gasp.

“Shit, she’s still so fucking tight,” he mutters, eyes flicking to Eunseok’s, a shared, filthy understanding passing between them.

“Come on, baby, let go… we’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice soft but laced with a dark promise, his eyes burning into your flushed, trembling face as he curls his fingers inside you, coaxing a fresh wave of moans.

“You can take three cocks at once, right? Two in this tight little cunt and one in your mouth, hmm?” Sungchan coos making Eunseok chuckle.

Everything was too loud, aside from the bass speakers all around, the EDM played by the DJ, red, blue, green and fuck, or violet lights, dancing thorugh the cigarette smoke, you don't care, you just have to treat yourself a break. When you got tired, you sat on the stool with your legs crossed, sharp heels dangling, posture too casual for how unsteady you actually were. Your laugh was loud, too loud and airy, covering the sting in your chest like a cheap bandage. Your fucking dick-faced ex had left you for someone prettier, “better.” 

The fuck? How dare he? What girl and who's better than "you"? He doesn't even fuck that good yet his audacity to cheat on you is too loud. 

“One whiskey, please,” you muttered, tapping the counter with your polished nail. Your words slurred at the edges, but your smirk stayed in place. You weren’t about to let anyone see you break. Yes, you loved that man genuinely, but now, you don't even know if he deserves your fake moans when you two fucked.

The bartender slid the drink across. You reached for it, fingers twiddling on the glass. You sighed. Why do you always encounter shitty men? What on earth have you done to deserve those undeserving bastards?  From all the sighing and regrets, that’s when you noticed him. Sitting two stools down.

He's sitting but you can tell he's tall. Sharp jawline. Long lashes. Shoulders too broad for the leather jacket hanging on him. The veins on his exposed skin, his hand, his presence was calm, too calm, like the kind that made the chaos of the place dark around him. He was sipping brandy neat, no ice. You smirked. Just your luck.

You leaned his way, eyes locking onto his face. “Hi. How are you?”

The man’s hand stopped mid-air, glass inches from his lips. He turned, eyes landing on you with this cold, unreadable, but piercing gaze.

“…Fine,” he said flatly. “You?”

You chuckled, tilting your head like you weren’t already spinning from being drunk. You threw the whiskey back in one shot, slamming the glass lightly onto the counter. “Not doing well. You see, my boyfriend broke up with me. That fucking bastard had the audacity to dump me.”

“Mm.” He sipped his brandy like he didn’t care.

You glanced down at his hand gripping the glass, the veins running up his wrist, the way his shirt stretched across his arm. Then you looked up again, lips curling. “You look hot. You up for sex?”

I mean, why not try this man? You've been with shitty men already, so maybe experiencing another possible shit would not make any difference, right?

Then silence followed. He didn’t blink. Just drained the rest of his drink in one shot and set it down, heavy on the counter. 

“...You can’t take me.” He said matter of factly.

You raised a brow, lips parting in amusement. Maybe he just wants to challenge you. Maybe he just wants to- “What made you think I can't take you?”

His eyes flicked over you slowly, deliberate, from your messy hair to the neckline of your dress, to the way you leaned too easily against the counter. “You just got heartbroken,” he said, voice calm but edged. “And you’re acting like some slut already.”

The words should’ve cut, but you only bit your lower lip, smirk playing wider. “It’s fine." you said, almost a chuckle, " I mean, I'm sure I can take you.”

He stared a second longer, then grabbed his jacket, stood, and walked toward the exit.

You blinked, then hopped off your stool, almost stumbling for balance, then following. “Hey—what? You’re just gonna walk away?”

“Follow if you want,” he muttered, not even looking back.

You did. That's your cue.

Everything went blurry, the ride to his place was just filled with your thoughts of regret for your ex. The time you spent with that asshole just for him to use and cheat on you. But the most unforgiving part is, why did you even spare your time for that relationship for almost 2 years? Hell, that guy is not even that worth a second glance. You looked at the man who's driving, he looks way too handsome compared to that bastard. You sighed, this man actually looks like a dream.

You don't know how many minutes passed. But when you reached his apartment, it was neat, stripped down, smelling faintly of smoke and leather. Like him. So the second the door shut, you pushed him, giggling.

“You’re really tall, you know that?”

Sungchan didn’t show any amusement, he didn't laugh. He dropped his jacket, grabbed you by the wrist, and pinned you against the wall. His body looming, hard chest pressing into yours.

“You're really sure you want this?” His voice was deep, calm, a warning. His stubble grazed your cheek when he leaned in.

“Fuck yes.” You arched into him, already tugging at his shirt. And that was enough. He brought you to his bedroom.

His hands were rough on your thighs, lifting you onto his hips like you weighed nothing. Your back smacked the wall, and you gasped when his cock pressed against you through thin fabric. You gasped from how huge you can feel him.

“You want to sit on it?” he growled low.

You bit your lip, "Uh-huh. Can I?"

He dropped you onto his bed, the mattress groaning beneath the weight of your body as you scrambled up on shaky knees. Heat pulsed through your skin, slick and desperate, as you straddled him. Your dress rode up your thighs, fabric twisting around your hips while you ground down against his cock, the friction hot and maddening. A moan slipped out against his jaw, breath hitching when his stubble scraped your lips, but he didn’t kiss you yet.

Instead, his hands clamped hard around your hips, fingers digging bruises deep into your skin, forcing your body into his rhythm. You slid your panties to the side and guided his cock to your entrance.You were so wet you don't even need to be preped. You lowered yourself, the thick stretch of him splitting you open slow, unforgiving, until the burn coiled low in your belly and your legs shook from the effort of taking him. Nails raked down his chest, leaving angry red lines across taut muscle, and your head snapped back with a sharp gasp, hair spilling wild across your shoulders.

“Fuck, you’re big—” you gasped, laughter breaking through your moans.

“Shut up and take it.” His thrusts snapped up into you, sharp and deep, forcing you to ride harder.

You showed him every position you knew. Fuck, you never even got this so excited when you're with your ex. It feels like... you wanted to give this man a show. 

When you rolled your hips on top, his cock angled deeper, hitting a spot that made your vision blur. You clawed at his chest, nails dragging down to his stomach, giggling when your voice cracked on a moan. 

He only tightened his grip on your waist, guiding you faster, his jaw clenched, a curse spilling under his breath when your walls squeezed around him.

You bounced on top until your thighs burned, leaning back on your hands with your chest pushed out so he could watch every inch of him disappear into you, "fuck... like that." he groaned.

"You like that? Shit- ah!" You moaned, eyes almost rolling back, the way he hits the sweetest spot inside you...feels so incredibly good. 

He flipped you onto your stomach and spread you open, his cock sliding back inside with a wet slap. The sheets bunched in your fists as his thrusts drove you forward, each one sharp enough to steal the air from your lungs. You whimpered into the mattress, but he only pressed harder, his chest flush to your back, one hand tangled in your hair to yank your head up so your cries filled the room.

“You’re so tight, does he even fuck you enough?” he grunted, voice rough, the words breaking through his ragged breathing as his fingers dug into your hips. No questions, this will bruise your skin. He dragged you down hard, meeting every snap of his hips with unforgiving force, guiding you to take him deeper.

Your head dropped back, hair clinging to the sweat on your skin as a choked cry slipped out. “N-no… oh god, that’s so—fuck, so good.”

The bed shook with the rhythm of his thrusts, your thighs trembling as your body arched into him, unable to keep steady under the relentless pace. His hand slid lower, thumb pressing against your swollen clit, rubbing hard circles that made your moans pitch higher.

“You gonna cum?” he growled, cock buried to the hilt, your walls fluttering around him. “You’re clenching my cock so tight I can barely move.”

Your nails scraped down the sheets, the knot in your stomach coiling fast, your words spilling in broken gasps. “Y-yes—shit, don’t stop, I’m gonna—”

You didn't even finish before your body betrayed you, clenching around his cock, trying to milk him, your body trembling from your orgasm. 

“Fuck, that’s right—gonna cum inside,” he groaned, voice breaking as his thrusts turned erratic, deeper, rougher, chasing the edge. His grip on your hips tightened until it hurt, slamming you down onto him one last time before he buried himself to the hilt.

The heat of him spilled out in thick pulses, hot and heavy, flooding you so much you gasped at the sheer pressure of it. You felt it gush, the slick warmth leaking past your swollen walls, dripping down your thighs in messy trails. He groaned low in his chest, cock still twitching deep inside, grinding into you as if he wanted every drop to stay buried.

Your body shuddered, overstimulated and weak, clenching helplessly around him, milking him even as his cum smeared out of your cunt, sticky and obscene against your skin.

Hours blurred into sweat and heat. He kept you straddling him until your legs trembled too much to hold yourself up. 

“Kiss me,” you gasped, your voice wrecked, trembling against his mouth.

And fuck—he did. He caught your lips in a messy, bruising kiss. The kind that made your chest tighten and your pulse race. You whimpered into it, clinging to him, your fingers curling in his hair as if you’d drown if he pulled away.

You bit his lower lip, tugging until he groaned, deep and guttural, vibrating against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his breath hot against your cheek.

You chuckled softly, drunk on the taste of him. “Sorry,” you whispered, though your eyes gleamed with mischief.

Before he could answer, you leaned in again, crashing your mouth against his, kissing him intently. It wasn’t careful, in fact...it was hungry. Your lips smacked wetly together, the sounds obscene in the silence of the room. His tongue pushed past your lips, invading you, claiming you, and you opened up willingly, sucking him in, tasting the heat and salt of him like you needed it to breathe.

You moaned into him, your chest pressed flush to his, every inch of you trembling as his hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you in place. He kissed you like he wanted to brand you, like the air between you had no business existing.

Your tongue tangled with his, sloppy, wet, and desperate. You sucked his tongue, and he groaned again, the sound muffled between your lips, his teeth grazing yours as he angled the kiss deeper, rougher. Your head spun, lungs burning, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

When you finally broke away, your lips were swollen, slick with spit, a thin string of it stretching between you while you rode him. Feeling his cock filling you in and out.

When you collapsed, he dragged you back onto his lap, bouncing you with his strength alone, forcing your body to keep taking him. He made you cum, again..and again. When you went limp, overstimulated, he pinned your cheek to the mattress and took you over and over until your voice was gone, reduced to broken gasps and hoarse laughter.

By the time you were gasping, body drenched and limp, you realized—you had never been touched like this before. Not even by your ex. Not by anyon before your ex.

And when you laughed through your last orgasm, shaking and wrecked, he slapped your ass once before pulling out. Leaving your hole clenching around nothing. And fuck, that maybe was the taste of heaven.

You were sprawled across the mattress, face buried into the pillow, your stomach pressed flat against the bed. One arm dangled over the edge, the other curled over your head like you were shielding yourself from the morning. Your hair was a wild mess, as strands stuck to your neck, skin still sticky with the remnants of what happened last night.

You groaned, rolling just enough to peek over your shoulder. “Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, then let out a soft, breathy laugh.

Beside you, Sungchan stirred. His chest rose and fell slow, his face relaxed in half-sleep. He cracked one eye open, squinting at the light, then at the sound of your voice.

“Hi, stranger,” you said with a crooked grin, voice scratchy, lazy.

His lips barely moved. “…Hi.”

You bit your lip, sitting up just enough to hug the sheets to your chest. Not helping as it still barely covers your chest. Your eyes swept over him, his messy hair, jawline shadowed by a bit of stubble, shoulders broad even as he lounged half-asleep. You laughed again, lighter this time. “Guess we enjoyed last night.”

Then you groaned, flopping forward dramatically, pressing your forehead to the mattress. “God,  fuck...I don’t remember what happened.”

Sungchan’s eyes opened fully this time, amusement flickering across them. He stared at you, the way you tried to act casual with your hair sticking in every direction, with red marks still fading along your skin. The bruises on your hips peeking from the fabric you're trying to use to cover your body. Seriously? he thought, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Name’s Y/N,” you mumbled, peeking at him from over your shoulder, sheets sliding dangerously low. “You?”

He leaned back against the headboard, voice steady. “Sungchan.”

You hummed, stretching your arms over your head. “Uhmkay. Nice to meet you.” Then, clapping your palms against the bed, you sighed. “Gotta go though. I have class.”

You pushed yourself up, the blanket slipping as you swung one leg to the edge of the bed, not bothering to cover your nakedness. But the second your foot touched the floor, your thigh trembled violently, and you gasped.

“Fuck—” you winced, trying again. “W-why… oh god, I can’t move my legs.”

You collapsed back onto the bed, clutching the sheet to your chest, groaning with laughter and frustration mixed.

Sungchan smirked, watching your struggle. His voice was low, calm, but edged with smugness.

It’s as if destiny’s mocking him. Sungchan was away on a business trip, an old man in a wheelchair appeared.... one of the men he didn't know is connected to you by blood. 

It should have been just another night. Another meeting in a cigarette and expensive tobacco room, people smiling too easily with money in line and shit, shaking hands too hard for every closed deal. Drugs, "cleaning jobs", and underground concerns that even authorities feared to touch.

Sungchan lit a cigarette, a rare indulgence on trips, one he knew you hated before, when one of the clients, an old man rolled in. Old, fucking old that he can be considered to be displayed as the sides relic. Faded. Drenched in arrogance and cologne and tobacco, the kind that tried to cover rot but couldn’t.

At first, Sungchan barely noticed him. He always lets his underlings negotiate and close deals on their own. Until he spoke something that sounds too familiar, getting him invested.

Drunk. Slurred. Rambling. The old man even feels and looks so smug while telling his tales.

“You know, years ago… I had this kid. A girl. A daughter of my fucking bitch wife. She was so pretty and wild. But damn, fucking difficult. Too soft at something useless. So I had to toughen her up. She got involved with some kid-what’s his name? Jung…something. She's always sneaking off for him. Of course, I didn’t like that. Thought she needed to learn the hard way. You know, maybe a bit of sex... with men..., making her lose her shit. You see my bodyguard standing there? That shit got a taste of her too.”

A laugh followed. Not his. Not Sungchan’s.

That name. Jung…something.

His cigarette dropped.

The room blurred.

“She got herself pregnant too, I think...though, hell, not for long." another cracky old laugh followed. "That didn’t last. We made sure of that—”

Sungchan heard flatlines. Not from machines. Inside his skull.

Pregnant. So, she was fucking pregnant.

With his. And this man had taken it from you.

His chest threatened to split. Suddenly, all the pieces snapped together: your disappearance. Your lifeless eyes. The way you broke up with him, like nothing mattered. The months you’d drifted out of reach sometimes when you were still together years ago.

He hadn’t been just your past. He had been the one person who could have pulled you out of hell... and he had let you drown. Let you carry it. Alone. Let you bury it. Alone.

And now… he was learning the truth from the breath of a drunk ghost in a wheelchair.

Sungchan didn’t speak. His body tensed, a machine wound tight until something inside him snapped.

The old man rambled on. How he let's his mean molested you, raped you in front of him by his men. Sungchan stood.

“I’m done here,” he said, calm. Controlled. The emptiness swallowed him.

" Hey! I'm not done talking-"

He walked out. Out of the building. Into the night, where every breath shook, every muscle locked, and the stars overhead were knives, not lights.

----------------------------

You didn’t want to go back to Anton’s penthouse after school. Not yet. Not when your chest felt tight for reasons you couldn’t name. I'm home, he said earlier at dawn. It still lingers in you. So not when your feet felt like you were walking through memory instead of time, you drifted.

The streets were familiar, yet so distant. The neon lights of the place you worked where Anton used to go to to see you. Strangers brushing past. Sunset bleeding across the skyline.

You didn’t even realize you were walking back to that place, to your old apartment, until you stood in front of it, the cracked stairs, the chipped railing, and the door your hands remembered too well. Your landlord was probably asleep. The building felt like a ghost you hadn’t buried properly.

You sat on the steps instead, slowly hoodie ups, knees to chest.

Then your phone rang. Oh...

Sungchan.

You stared at the screen. "What do you want now?" you murmured to yourself.

Still, you picked up.

“Where are you?” His voice was low, careful. Like he was walking on ice.

“…I'm at my old place,” you muttered, "why?" tucking your chin into your knees.

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then, “I’m coming.”

“Sungchan, n—”

“Don’t move. Please.”

Click. The call ended.

He was on his way to the airport, to the plane, to you. The old man's laugh still rings like an alarm he fucking hated. He needs to see you, otherwise, he couldn’t breathe.

When he arrived, it was already dark. A cold wind pushed through the alley. He saw you from across the street—small, quiet, like a version of you that didn’t know how to carry yourself anymore.

His chest caved in.

You looked up when you heard footsteps.

Then there was a pause. It's as if the world fell away. The years unraveled between you two, time crawling back to that version of you who once fell asleep in his arms. Who once called him home.

“I’m sorry,” he said, standing in front of you, voice barely above a whisper.

"Why-"

“I should’ve insisted, made more effort to find you. I should’ve known.”

You didn’t understand. But something inside you knew. "... maybe that.", you thought.

Sungchan stepped forward anyway. Hesitantly. Slowly. Like you were a flame and he wanted to burn into you. 

“Can I hug you?” he asked. Almost like it'd be a mistake and maybe he doesn't deserve to.

You stared at him. Your eyes calm but inside, you're wondering. Does he pity you now?

But then… you stood.

You offered a small smile, "...sure. I mean why not?"

He hugged you tight. Your face pressed to his neck. And you let yourself fall into his arms.

And for once, it didn’t feel like an old lover holding you. It felt like someone who had been chasing your ghost for years finally catching up.

And so you stood still, your arms hanging by your sides, but his were firm around you. The years he spent wondering. The nights he spent thinking of your face years ago in places you no longer existed.

You didn’t return the hug. But you didn’t pull away either. You can feel his breath was shaky near your ear. You could feel it. The way his heart beat hard against his chest, right where your head hovered. It wasn’t romance. Not even love. Not like the ones you both shared. It was something that cracked open old bones and spilled something far deeper.

Pain. Guilt. Longing.

“Have you eaten?” he asked softly, as if he hadn’t just crossed countries to see you.

You blinked, pulling away slightly. “I’m not twelve, Sungchan.”

He huffed a soft laugh. But his eyes… they stayed on you. Memorizing. Mourning something he still didn’t understand fully. The years that slipped from his fingertips, just how much time spent that turned to waste.

He nodded toward the door. “Want me to take you somewhere?”

You shook your head. “I don’t really wanna do that… now.”

“Alright.”

He didn’t push. Just like before, whatever you want, he gives it to you. This time is not an exception. Especially now.

Instead, you just sat. On those steps. Shoulder to shoulder but not quite touching. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable—it was heavy. Like smoke curling in your lungs.

You toyed with your sleeves. He kept his hands clasped together, resting between his legs. Neither of you looked at the other.

The night passed like that. Only when it got cold enough for you to shiver did he take off his coat and put it around your shoulders without a word.

Still, you said nothing.

Not about what was pressing against your ribcage like a blade. Not about the memories clawing back up your throat.

And not about the fact that—for the first time in a long while—you didn’t want to be alone. Just not tonight. 

"You might want to go inside..." he said quietly, clearing his throat.

" Ah... yeah. It's getting cold." you said, trying but not really avoiding meeting his eyes.

As you stood, you didn’t tell him to follow but Sungchan did anyway.

The rusty old stairs creaked under your weight as you climbed them to your old apartment, smelled like secondhand memories and forgotten agony. The key still worked. The room welcomed you like it always did, a quiet, dusty comfort.

You didn’t turn on the lights.

Sungchan stood in the doorway, his figure outlined by the hallway’s glow. He didn’t move closer, but watched you as you tossed the coat off, exhaling like you hadn’t been able to breathe all day.

“Why are you really here, Sungchan?” Your voice was hoarse, tired.

Sungchan closed the door behind him.

“I thought I was visiting you. Then I overheard something,” he said carefully. “ I was at work, closing some deals, maybe, with someone who… I don't really wanna say it, Y/N. ”

You went still.

He watched your back, the way your shoulders tensed.

“You were pregnant, weren’t you?”

You didn’t turn around or blink or dare to breathe.

He swallowed. “I didn’t know. You never—why didn’t you tell me?”

You stayed there, hands trembling slightly at your sides, mind working too fast to land on anything. Too many lies you could say. Too many truths that are already out there, but...

Your throat tightened.

Your brain screamed deny it. Deny it like you denied yourself everything good in this life. Deny it because he didn’t deserve to see how fucked up you really were. Deny it because—

“Yes,” you whispered.

And just like that, it shattered. Like something old and fragile cracking open from within.

“I didn’t want to ruin you, Sungchan,” you said. “You were the only thing that made me feel like a person. If I told you… you would’ve held on. You would’ve loved me. And I couldn’t live with being loved while losing everything. And funny cause you were also my everything.”

Your knees buckled slightly. You catch yourself on the edge of the counter. Your back still to him.

“I lost it, Sungchan. I didn’t even get to keep it that long. They took it from me, and I—” you sucked in a breath, ragged and broken, "... I just didn't know what to do. I lost it.”

He moved, finally. Slowly. But not to speak or to touch you.

He just stood there and listened as the first sob clawed out of your chest. The kind that didn’t make a sound, just forced your lungs to collapse around the weight of your grief.

The second one followed..... then another.

You didn’t want him to see you like that. For god's sake that's why you left him before, years ago. You tried to hold it in. But your shoulders trembled, your hand gripped the counter like it was the only thing keeping you up.

Then his arms wrapped around you from behind. He's warmth making you break into tears.

Silent sobs racked your body. Your head dropped forward falling tears soaking into your shirt. But his hold never wavered.

He didn’t tell you it would be okay. Cause that would be a lie, cause it's too late for him to even say that.

So he just held you—until your knees gave out and you both sank to the cold apartment floor together, grief between you, raw and finally... seen.

His hand rested at the back of your neck, fingers barely moving. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, he asked, voice low and quiet.

You let the question hang. Cause you’d asked yourself that a thousand times.

“I wanted to,” you murmured. “So many fucking times.”

“Then why didn’t you?”, his voice almost hurt. He was. Fuck, he is.

“Because I knew what you’d do, Sungchan.” Your voice cracked. “You’d drop everything. You’d try to fix it. I was sixteen, we... were so young. And I know you’d take me in, even when I couldn’t be taken care of. You’d love me through it and I—but I was already rotting on the inside. And I couldn’t bring you down with me, Chan.”

He didn’t speak. He couldn't.

You pulled back slightly, enough to look up at him with swollen eyes. “You were the only person I had. You made the world feel bearable. And I couldn’t let you carry the ugliest part of me.”

“You think I couldn’t?” he asked, not accusingly. Not even angry. Just… raw. Cause what if, what if he fought for you that day? What if he didn't settle for an, "Okay", when you wanted to break up with him?

“I didn’t want you to.” Your voice broke again. “You don’t understand, Chan. I wanted to keep you... just away from the things that dragged me. I didn’t even feel like a person after what happened. I was scared—so fucking scared that if you knew, you’d look at me like they did. And I don't want to see that in your eyes... I still wanna keep you as you.”

His brow furrowed. “Like who?”

You closed your eyes. "It doesn't matter now."

“And even if I did tell you,” you continued, “what then? I couldn’t even protect it. The one thing that should’ve been mine— ours, I couldn’t even keep it alive, Sungchan.”

He gripped you tighter. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But try telling that to the version of me who cried herself to sleep for years. Try telling that to the girl who bled alone in the dark, who stopped believing she was allowed to hold love.”

Sungchan leaned his forehead against yours, your noses almost touching.

“I wish I could’ve been there,” he whispered. “I wish I could’ve taken even a piece of that pain for you.”

You nodded slowly, voice barely audible. “Me too.”

--------------

Sungchan kissed you like he was trying to turn back time. Like if he pressed hard enough, long enough, the years and the pain would dissolve against his mouth.

And you let him do that.

You let him push you back into the mattress, you don't know he'd carried you. His weight settling over you, warm, heavy and grounding. The heat of his body against yours was almost unbearable. His chest pressed to yours, damp with tears, his heartbeat slamming against your ribs as if he was terrified you’d slip away again.

His lips trailed over your jaw, your throat, down the line of your collarbone, whispering broken apologies into your skin. You couldn’t hear the words, but you felt them, he let you feel each trembling kiss, each one a desperate plea. His hands moved as if he was remapping you, fingertips tracing your arms, your ribs, your stomach, pausing at the curve of your waist before sliding lower. He touched you like a man who was terrified of forgetting... of losing the right to ever touch you again.

When his palm slid over your breast, he didn’t grope them like he used to when you two were fucking, he cupped you like something sacred, thumb brushing your nipple until your breath hitched. His tears fell onto your chest, hot against your skin, sliding down until they mixed with the sheen of sweat already forming there.

He moved lower, mouth closing around you, tongue dragging slow, aching circles that made your back arch despite yourself. It wasn’t lust alone. It's him worshipping you. It was grief turned physical. His hand stroked down your thigh, parting you carefully, as though even now he was afraid of breaking you.

When he finally pushed inside, it was the slowest you’d ever felt him. Inch by inch, his hips pressing into yours with restraint that made you shake. It burned, stretched, but the pace—God, the pace—wasn’t about pleasure. It was about staying. About making sure you felt every single second he was inside you.

"Y/N,"

"C-chan-"

His forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged, tears dripping onto your cheek as he moved. Every thrust was deliberate, deep, slow enough to make your walls ache around him. He groaned against your mouth, the sound breaking like it hurt him to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your shoulder, his lips wet, voice raw. “God, baby, I'm sorry, I should’ve found you... I should’ve known.”

Your nails dug into his back, pulling him closer until there was no space left between your bodies. “You were the only thing that didn’t break me,” you whispered back, and you felt his chest shudder against yours. " And I'm thankful you're you, Channie."

He moved even slower then, dragging out every roll of his hips until you gasped into his mouth. Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him in, refusing to let him slip away. His hand slid up, lacing your fingers together above your head, pinning you there, not forceful, but desperate, like he needed the anchor of your hand in his.

His breath stuttered, his tears wetting your skin, his thrusts carrying every ounce of love and regret he had left in him.

If he could take it back... the pain, the silence, the loss, fuck, he would. But he couldn’t. 

So instead he gave you everything... every breath, every sob, every ounce of love he had starved of giving you. He pressed it into your body with every thrust, every kiss, every shiver of his voice as he whispered your name like it was sacred.

And you took it.

You let your body give in, your release breaking through with trembling legs and a sharp cry muffled against his mouth. You clung to him as your body spasmed around him, your chest heaving, your heart splitting open.

He followed, burying himself deep inside you with a broken groan, his body shaking as he came undone. His forehead pressed to yours, his tears spilling even as his hips stilled, keeping you close as though he could anchor himself inside you forever.

-------------------------------

The first light of dawn broke through the windows and Sungchan was awake first. His eyes stayed on you as you slept beside him. Your hair was tangled, your face calm, almost peaceful. To him, that peace was fragile... like a thin sheet of glass that would shatter the moment you opened your eyes. He could feel the weight of the past pressing into his chest, but the truth was harder than that. You weren’t his anymore. The love you once shared... it was gone, irretrievably so.

The memory still lingered in the air between you, but it wasn’t real anymore. It was just a ghost of what had been.

He sighed, his hand hovering close to your skin, almost brushing but never touching. Not anymore. He doesn't deserve to, maybe. The urge to pull you against him, to keep you there, was unbearable, but he couldn’t. You were slipping away, piece by piece, and he knew he could never hold you again. The cracks between you had grown too deep. And though he loved you... loved you in a way that burned through him with no words to explain it... he knew this wasn’t his place anymore.

His chest tightened with the thought.

Still, he stayed quiet, unwilling to disturb the fragile calm. He let himself watch you for a little longer, memorizing the shape of your breathing, the faint crease between your brows, the way your lips parted slightly as you dreamed. It was torture and comfort all at once.

Then you stirred, turning slightly, your lashes fluttering open as you blinked against the faint morning light. A groggy sigh slipped from you as you pushed yourself up, your voice still rough with sleep when you murmured, “Good morning.”

Sungchan’s gaze softened, but not enough to reach his eyes. The sound of your voice was bittersweet.

“Morning,” he whispered back, quiet enough that even the silence seemed louder than him.

You rubbed your eyes lazily, stretching before glancing at him. You smiled... but it wasn’t the same. He caught it immediately. The warmth was there, but the weight behind it was missing, like the light had already shifted away.

“Are you leaving soon?” you asked, the words slipping out without hesitation, as though the answer didn’t matter either way. As though you already knew it.

“I have to,” he said, and his voice carried more than just the excuse of a business trip. It carried the reality that he couldn’t keep pretending. He needed to leave... because staying meant holding onto something that didn’t exist anymore.

“I see...” you murmured, your gaze dropping as your fingers traced idle patterns on the sheets. For a moment, it felt like you weren’t really here with him at all. Like your mind had drifted somewhere else entirely.

And he knew exactly where. You were already slipping. And it wasn’t back to him.

“Y/N...” his voice broke the silence, low and heavy with words he couldn’t finish. But you didn’t turn to look at him. You didn’t need to.

“I know,” you whispered, your tone calm but unyielding, eyes fixed away. “It’s not the same.”

The words cracked through the silence like glass. They settled between you, heavy and undeniable.

Sungchan’s jaw clenched. He stayed silent. Because you already knew.

And it didn’t make it easier. The truth was simple. You were falling for Anton.

He had seen it before you even noticed. The way something inside you responded to him... something Sungchan couldn’t reach anymore. Anton wasn’t just a man to you. He was becoming something else. Something... real.

And that realization cut Sungchan deeper than anything.

He swallowed the pain, burying it beneath the quiet. But it remained, always there, gnawing at him.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” he said at last, his voice soft but sharp at the edges. The words hung in the air, almost fragile. He didn’t wait for your reply.

You finally turned toward him, your expression unreadable. With a small nod, you pulled your knees up to your chest, folding into yourself. “I will,” you said, your voice thin, distant. “I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t the truth. But he didn’t call you out. Because he knew he wasn’t the one who would be there for you anymore.

Anton would.

And that truth carved something hollow into him that he couldn’t fill.

Sungchan rose slowly, pulling his coat over his shoulders. The silence clung to him. It wouldn’t let him go.

“Goodbye... Y/N,” he whispered as he stepped toward the door. His voice cracked the smallest bit, but he didn’t look back.

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to. You already knew.

The door closed quietly, but the sound rang in your chest like the end of something you couldn’t bring back. Sungchan is gone. He had been gone for a long time. You were no longer his. Deep down, you had always known. You had just been too afraid to face it.

And Sungchan had been right. You had both moved on.

But knowing it didn’t ease the pain.

It was late morning when you walked down the hallway. Lazy sway. Anton’s shirt tucked halfway into your skirt, one side slipping loose on purpose, and fuck who cares. Your legs were still a little wobbly, he wasn’t kind last night, but your chin was up. Unbothered. Just trying to get through the day. Pale bruises faintly marked your inner thighs like forgotten ink.

“So, you fucking with our prof now?”

The scoff echoed by the lockers. The voice dripped venom, that one normal student with a high-pitched, plastic confidence. One of the pretty ones, the bitchy-wannabe-type with shiny hair and expensive perfume. A girl who was never seen alone, flanked by two others clutching notebooks they didn’t write in.

You stopped. Turned your head slightly. Eyes half-lidded and bored. You gave them a smirk. Slow, deliberate, like everyone could hear the punchline before the setup.

“You mean your prof?” you said. “Yeah. He grades me from the inside.”

Gasps. One girl choked on her spit. Another grabbed her friend’s forearm to steady her stance.

“You’re disgusting.”

You shrugged. “So’s your GPA.”

You brushed your shoulder into the ringleader as you walked past. You didn’t flinch when “whore” was thrown at your back. You’d been called a whore almost every day, or night. That word wasn’t new. You’d heard worse. You’d lived worse.

And besides, if they knew what Anton did to you last night, with your legs spread across his desk while he made you say economic terms through tears, they’d choke on more than words.

Classes passed. In his, you threw glares at his teasing remarks. In others, you drowned in boredom until your favorite subject arrived: dismissal.

Most students were gone. A few lingered in groups, gossiping, pretending to study, waiting for rides they didn’t need. The air was still. A lazy afternoon.

You stepped out of the building, cardigan falling from one shoulder, Anton’s shirt still beneath it. You didn’t notice the tall figure leaning against the stone post by the gate. Not at first.

“Oversized shirts' are still 

your favorite, huh?”

His voice was low, soft, with that slow drag like he had nowhere to be. Jung Sungchan. Clean, composed as always. Unlike you. His expensive watch caught the sun.

You paused mid-step, jaw tight for a second before your lips twitched into something like a smile. Almost nostalgic. Almost.

“Didn’t think you’d show up at my school like some teenage stalker.”

He chuckled and stepped closer. Girls were already watching. Whispering. Maybe wondering if he was one of your clients. They weren’t wrong. They knew who he was, even if they didn’t.

“Didn’t think you’d wear someone else’s shirt either.”

You smirked. “Didn’t think you’d care.”

“I don’t.” His gaze didn’t waver. “Just wanted to see if you’re still breathing.”

“Barely.”

Your voice softened a fraction. Walls dropping by a millimeter. Sungchan noticed. So did someone else.

Anton.

Watching from a distance. Back against a pillar. Jaw clenched. He saw you laugh, light and fleeting, at something Sungchan said low in your ear. Girls nearby whispered viciously. Said you were passed around. Said you were gross. Said you always won men’s attention. Anton didn’t move, but his grip tightened on the binder in his hand.

He watched Sungchan tuck something behind your ear before walking away like he hadn’t just tilted the whole axis of the school.

You stood a second longer, then turned. Met Anton’s stare head-on from across the courtyard. You didn’t smile. You didn’t run. You just stared back. Like you knew.

That afternoon, you didn’t go straight to Anton’s penthouse. Not Sungchan’s black-tinted ride either.

You went to a cracked apartment in a dying building. Hall lights flickered. Steps echoed on chipped stairs. The lock fought your fingers. The place smelled like cheap incense and damp winters. Brutal, but comforting. Yours.

Inside, you counted folded bills Anton had left on the counter that morning. No note. Just cash. You took half, wrapped it in a napkin, slipped it into a pink envelope from your worn-out drawer, and walked across the hallway.

Knocked.

The door opened to a small woman with graying hair. Eyes cloudy. Ears tuned more to vibration than sound.

You signed slowly, steady fingers, and a quiet voice.

“Keep the room for me. Don’t rent it out. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

She stared for a long moment, then nodded. You handed her the envelope. Her hand brushed yours, then cupped your wrist gently.

You smiled thinly. Sad. The kind of smile only people on borrowed time knew how to wear.

Back in your apartment, you lingered by the window. Watched the street. Same kids running. Same addicts pacing. Same life you clawed through every night. The walls were cracked, but they still felt more yours than Anton’s penthouse or Sungchan’s ride.

Almost midnight. You finally went back to Anton’s.

You opened the door quietly. The apartment was dark, only lit by the amber glow of the floor lamp. The smell of something warm hung in the air. You locked the door with a click.

“Oh hi, dad.”

The smirk on your lips was devilish, coy. But your eyes flickered when you saw him. Anton. Sitting on the couch, legs spread, elbows on his thighs. Loosened tie. Rolled sleeves. Hair messy from his own hands. Eyes cold.

“You smell like the streets, hallway.” His voice was low, flat, sharp.

“Not mine.”

You shrugged and tossed your bag aside. “What, no welcome home kiss? Or are you just sitting there in the middle of the night to interrogate me like a good father figure?”

Anton stood slowly, his movements? Controlled.

“Where were you?”

“Taking care of loose ends. Not your business. Yet.”

He walked closer, not touching, but thickening the air. “You disappear. You come back in whoever's fucking scent and you treat this place like a pitstop.”

You smiled sweetly. “If I knew you were keeping attendance, I’d have asked for a permission slip, professor.”

His jaw twitched. His hands clenched, then relaxed.

You stepped toe-to-toe. “You said you’d pay to keep me. You didn’t say anything about owning me.”

His face darkened. His gaze dropped to your chest rising and falling. He leaned down.

“You really want to test what owning you looks like?”

You should have stepped back. But you didn’t, of course. Instead, you sighed. “Try me, daddy.”

Anton’s control teetered, fragile. But he stepped back. He turned his back and walked to the kitchen.

“You hungry? I made pasta.”

You scoffed but followed. Watched him reheat leftovers like he hadn’t just ordered Sungchan’s life investigated hours ago.

“You really waited just to feed me?”

“You’re not built to miss meals. I can see almost see your bones whenever we fuck.”

You chuckled, dry. “Still thin, huh.”

“Looks like art, actually,” he muttered, almost slipping.

You paused. That wasn’t part of the war. That was something else.

He plated pasta, sat across from you. Quiet. Just forks clinking against tension.

“You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone. But I still want to keep you.”

You didn’t answer. Just shoved pasta into your mouth. You didn’t want to admit it felt good, being missed.

Then he spoke again, quiet. “Did Sungchan fuck you these past seven days?”

Your fork froze. You swallowed.

“That’s the service he paid for, wasn’t it? Answer me.”

You met his eyes. “Yeah. He did.”

No apology. No hesitation, just direct and no shame.

Anton smiled. Quiet. Dangerous. “Good. That means you’re used to being sore.”

Then he stood. “Bed. Now.”

You stood in the doorway for a beat, watching him peel his shirt off. Slow. Deliberate. Your mouth parted—not because you hadn’t seen him like this before, but because Anton had a way of turning the simplest move into a quiet threat. 

  He kissed you like time was already slipping, like the night wasn’t long enough to do what he needed. One hand firm on your neck,  his other hand dragging you off balance, sliding down your thighs until he was grinding you against his cock through the thin fabric. You moaned into his mouth, and that was enough—your skirt hit the floor, his pants undone, everything gone in seconds.

He didn’t throw you onto the bed no. He laid you down, pinning your wrists into the mattress with his palms, mouth hot against your stomach. You arched, half-ready for his usual teasing, but he didn’t give you that. He was already hard, already pushing into you like he’d been counting the seconds.  

 There was no teasing. No soft delay. Just his cock shoving into you hard, like he’d been keeping count of how many hours he hadn’t been inside you. 

The slap of skin. The creak of the bed. Your gasps breaking in the air while his steady, low growl rolled out every time he exhaled and he didn’t stop.

Not when your voice cracked on his name, not when your thighs went weak under his grip and absolutely not when sweat dripped down his spine and onto your skin.  

  He shifted angles, shifted your hips, pushed deeper. pinned your hips down, and drove into you like he wanted the sound of it to bury itself in the walls. Harder each time. The rhythm was brutal, the kind of pace that left no room for air. You clawed at his back, desperate, nails leaving red lines he didn’t even flinch at.

“Anton—fuck—”

“Shut up,” he growled against your jaw, dragging his lips down your throat. “The whole building doesn’t need to know you’re getting used like this.”

You bit down on his shoulder, a scream muffled into his skin. He liked that. You felt him shudder in it. Which only made him flip you over, yank your hair just enough to make your back arch, and slam into you from behind.

The sound of it was obscene—wet, relentless, the slap of skin against skin filling the room. Your cheek pressed into the sheets, drool slipping onto the pillow as he fucked you raw.

“Fuck—Anton—”

He yanked you up by the waist, forcing you to stay upright while his cock buried deeper, faster. His hand slid down, rubbing circles against your clit, cruel in how he timed it with each thrust. You broke, trembling, body jerking around his cock while he fucked you through it, not slowing, not even for a second.

Your legs gave out. He didn’t care. He held you up, drove into you harder until your throat was raw with gasps you couldn’t contain.

“Anton—ahh—close, I’m close—”

“Me too,” he growled softly against your ear, hips snapping harder. “Gonna cum. Take it.”

That was all it took—your body broke around him, trembling, clenching down as he buried himself deeper, chasing his own release.

By the time he came, you were wrecked. Shaking. Your body slack against him, hair sticking to your face, sweat dripping down your spine. He pulled out slowly, slapped your ass once, and let you collapse forward onto the sheets.

6:45 AM.  

The alarm didn’t survive the first beep—Anton killed it with a hand heavy against the clock.

You stirred. Body sore, legs jelly, and your cunt is still throbbing. You didn’t open your eyes until you felt his hand grip your hip.

“Up. Get dressed. We’ve got school.”

Your voice rasped. “Don't wanna.”

“No.” His tone was flat, cold. “Get up.”

You groaned, rolling over. Every muscle screamed, but your voice still carried smugness.

“Do I get paid for showing up to class dripping like this?”

He tossed his shirt at you, smirk sharp.

“That was your payment,” he said. “Consider me paid in full.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lunchtime. You stood in line, tray balanced in one hand, tugging at your sleeves with the other. You felt the stares. Heard the whispers, as usual. The cafeteria was loud, but somehow every snicker still carried. You kept moving. Got your food. Basic. 

Then, crash. Followed by silence.

Your tray hit the floor, food splattering across your shoes, dripping down the front of your hoodie. Anton's.

The room froze for a second too long before the laughter broke out. Gasps, fake sympathy, voices pitched sharp enough to cut.

“Oh no, did you trip?”

“She’s such a mess.”

“Poor baby forgot how to walk?”

Your eyes dropped. The sneaker was obvious, long, lean, platform sole, stretched out just far enough to trip you. Your chest burned, not from shame. You knew better than that. It was the sting of recognition. That old twist of of course they’d try this.

But you didn’t cry. Didn’t give them the crack they wanted. You crouched, collected the mess piece by piece. Didn’t bother with the yogurt cup that rolled under the table. When you stood, you met her eyes, the one with the perfect hair, the grin she wore, mocking.

And you smiled. Once. Sharp. 

“I get fucked by your beloved professor on weekends and wear his clothes to class,” you said, voice low enough to slice, “and this is all you’ve got?”

You left. Well fuck forgot lunch. 

Three seconds of silence followed.

Then the dumb brigade clicked back in.

“She’s joking, right?” one muttered, eyes wide, trying to re-glue her confidence.

“I’ve never even seen Professor Lee wear that hoodie, so—like—she’s lying. Obviously,” another chimed in, twirling her hair like it made her point stronger.

The third, mouth half-full with gum and arrogance, shook her head. “No. That’s a bluff. She wants attention.”

But then, still, it made those bitches anxious. 

Anton's class, the girls, three of them, lined up like parrots waiting to be noticed, hovered at the edge of his desk. Their smiles were sweet, practiced, but their eyes betrayed them. Too bright. Too messy.

“Professor Lee,” one of them began, her voice dripping sugar. “There’s this classmate of ours saying she’s… you know… with you.”

The second leaned in, mock-whispering like it was sacred gossip. “And she said she’s wearing your clothes, but I’ve never seen you wear that hoodie.”

The third just giggled, eyes flicking to you in the back row. Hair unbrushed, one headphone in, Anton’s hoodie drowning your frame like you’d been claimed by it.

Anton didn’t move. His expression stayed locked, unreadable, as if their words hadn’t even landed. He turned his head slightly, gaze sliding over the three of them like they weren’t worth remembering.

When he spoke, his voice was calm. Clipped. Too neutral to be safe.

“No.”

But his eyes didn’t stay on them.

They found you. Locked with yours.

Afterschool, you stayed on the rooftop. Cigarette burning slow between your fingers. You heard the door opened but you didn’t move, didn’t bother to turn and look. Just dragged another inhale, smoke pushing out of your chest like it was the only thing holding you steady.

Anton stood beside you, watching the horizon.

“You didn’t have to say no like that,” you muttered. Flat. Dry.

But it did.

“Your fault for wearing my clothes,” he said.

You huffed a laugh. Bitter. “You think I care what they say?”

“You do. You just hate that you do.”

You flicked ash off the railing. and he finally looked at you.

“I said no to protect you.”

“Oh, so you think I'm fragile now?”

His jaw flexed. “Not fragile. But seems I am. When I'm with you.”

You froze. Then tried to smoke again, but your hand shook. He took the cigarette, crushed it under his shoe.

“Don’t wear my shit if you’re gonna act like this,” he muttered.

You didn’t speak. Just stared at him like you wanted to fight and fold at the same time.

—

Back at the apartment, his silence was worse than yelling. Keys slammed on the counter. His shoulders tense. You kicked the door shut, watching him brood on the couch like he wanted to burn a hole through the floor.

“Don’t sulk,” you said lightly, like it was a game. “You’re too pretty for that.”

No answer.

He sat on the couch, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tight like he was killing thoughts before they could crawl out. Maybe yours. Maybe his. Maybe both.

You moved toward him, slow, dragging it out until you were standing right between his legs. He didn’t look up.

Fine.

You climbed onto his lap anyway, straddling him, thighs pressed against his. You tilted your head, a lazy smirk on your mouth as your arms looped around his neck.

“Want me to ride you, professor?” you teased, voice sweet, sing-song. “Make you forget how mad you are?”

Still nothing.

Not a blink. Not a twitch.

It should’ve pissed you off. Normally it would. But it didn’t. Not this time. Because there was something else lodged in your throat, hot, unfamiliar.

You suddenly wanted him. Not the fuck. Not the distraction. Him.

So you leaned in, slow. No smirk. No bite in your tone. Just soft, so soft it terrified you. Your lips brushed his, featherlight. Barely there. Your nose grazed his. Fingers curled against his cheek. You kissed him like it mattered.

And then, you bit his bottom lip. Gentle. Testing his reaction.

Tension snapped through him, a flicker in the way his shoulders shifted under your hands.

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth, “Still mad?”

This time, he met your eyes. Dark. Sharp.

His voice came low, hoarse. “Why'd you kissed me like that?”

You breathed, throat tight. “I wanted to.”

“…Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Something cracked in him. His hand gripped your thigh, the other sliding under your hoodie, fingertips cold on your skin.

“Don’t kiss me like you mean it if you’re running back to him tomorrow.”

Your smile vanished. “....so I’m yours now?”

“You’ve been in my bed for weeks.”

“That’s not the same, Anton.”

He broke. Kissed you back. Hard, then soft. Something you could tell it's real. And it scared you more than sex ever did.

When you pulled back, forehead against his, you whispered, “Still mad?”

He fisted your hoodie, dragging you closer.

“No....not anymore.”

—

Morning came and his side's empty. Panic clawed his chest until he heard water running in his kitchen.

He padded out barefoot. He found you there, back turned, his shirt hanging off one shoulder, his shirt before you both slept after another until-midnight of sex, sipping from a glass.

The tension snapped. His arms wrapped around your waist, face pressed into your neck.

“You’re still here,” he muttered, voice raw.

You didn’t move. Just sipped. “Where else would I be?”

He held you tighter. “Thought you were gone.” his voice low.

You turned slowly, glass set down. “You asked me to stay. Do you even want me to stay?”

His thumb brushed your cheek, eyes dark. “I want more than that. But yeah, I want to keep you.”

But it didn’t last, because the distance crept in. Cold and quiet. He’d leave in the middle of the night, answer calls during sex, pull out of you and walk away without looking back.

You stayed quiet. Tried not to care. Reminded yourself you weren’t his. You were a body he paid for. A fix. Nothing else.

Still—it stung. Cause you thought this is going into something 'real'

You lay awake after he left, staring at the ceiling, wondering if there was another girl. Someone softer. Someone better in bed. Another whore maybe?

And the worst part? You hated yourself for wondering at all.

—

One night. Anton was gone again. No notes left on his bedside table. No text messages. Just cold air where his body should have been. You curled under the sheets that smelled like him, your chest tight, but your eyes stayed dry. You had burned yourself out of tears long ago.

Sleep came, but it wasn’t rest. 

Instead, it dragged you back.

To when you were sixteen. Bold and naked in his sheets. Sungchan. Your Sungchan.

The world outside was jagged and cruel, but here, in his bed, you felt like something was worth keeping. His hand traced the curve of your stomach, up to the hollow of your chest, his lips worshipping you, warm against your skin.

He whispered into you, “I swear I’ll marry you one day. I need you in this lifetime and you’re mine.”

You laughed into the darkness, a laugh that cracked with disbelief. “Don’t joke like that. You don’t know what you’re saying, Channie.”

His eyes burned when he pulled back to look at you. “I’m not joking, baby. You think I’d touch you like this if I didn’t mean it?” His voice broke, frustrated. “You think I just want your body? You’re all I want. I love everything about you.”

Your eyes softened. Here he goes again. 

"Whenever you laugh at something stupid, giggle whenever I give you something, it is everything to me, Y/N." He said softly, his thumb brushing your jaw, cheek and the corner of your eye.

You kissed him then, hard, because you wanted to believe. You wanted to drown in his words. His lips crushed yours, his hands gripping you like he could keep you from slipping away.

He moved inside you slowly, careful, like you were made of something fragile. " Sungchan- ahh!"

And for a moment, you believed the lie. That you weren’t ruined. That someone could love you enough to fight the world.

You moaned his name, whispered into his ear, “Don’t leave me. Please. Just… stay.”

He stopped, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged. “I’ll never leave you.” His hand held your jaw, forcing your eyes to stay on him. “Never. Even if you push me away. Okay?”

You almost cried then. But you bit it back. He made you his multiple times after that. 

And fuck, reality is good things never lasted. It's not for you. Not with your blood.

And you were right.

Two weeks later, the ones who should have protected you stripped it all away. They took what was inside you after knowing you were pregnant.

What could have been yours and his, is gone before you could even love it.

A locked bathroom. Blood on tile. Shaking hands. Your own breath strangling you.

You never told Sungchan.

How could you? How do you say I lost what we didn’t even know we had?

How could you hurt the only person who loved you for who you are? 

Instead you disappeared. A month of silence. Ignoring Sungchans calls, messages, his visits, but he never knew you rented another place, away from everyone. Without anything. And you came back hollow.

You knocked on his door. And he opened his door to you, his smile faltering the second he saw your face. He tried to reach for you but you stepped back. And spoke like a stranger. “We’re done.”

He froze. “What?”

“Let’s break up.” Your voice flat. Your chest caving, but your face didn’t show it.

He looked gutted. A hand went to his mouth, like he was holding something in. “Why? I haven't seen you for a month! You ignored me. I tried to find you baby. Tell me what happened pleas-.”

You stared past him, past everything, and repeated, “We’re done, Sungchan. I came here to tell you that.”

Silence.

Then he nodded. A fucked low chuckle came out and his voice broke but he made it steady. “Okay.”

Because Sungchan always respected your choices, even when they killed him. Maybe he doesn't really deserve you. Maybe you needed space. Maybe... you don't love him anymore.

And that was the last day you let yourself feel anything.

You woke up gasping. Sheets stuck to your sweat-slick skin. Heart thrashing like it wanted out of your chest.

You stumbled out of bed, into the kitchen. Pulled a glass from the counter. Filled it. Your reflection in the black window stared back at you, empty, sunken. You wanted to smash the glass against the sink just to see something break outside of you.

You drank instead. Your hand trembled, your throat burned.

And then you felt him. Anton’s arms sliding around your waist. 

"Hi." Anton whispered. 

 His body pinning yours back to his chest. 

"I'm home."

You shut your eyes. Tried not to shake.

For the first time since that night, you let yourself lean back.

Let yourself be held.

Even if it wouldn’t last. Like last time. 

You sat on his gaming chair, legs lazily spread, one leg draped over his shoulder, the other twitching at every stroke of his fingers. Your back arched slightly as you continued scrolling on his computer, pretending to stay focused, waiting for players Sohee advised you to look out for, your lips parted, breathing shallow. Your fingers gripped the mouse, but it was Sohee who had full control.

He was kneeling between your thighs, eyes locked on your soaked pussy, his lips brushing against your skin like worship.

“Hmmm,” you bit down on your lower lip, pretending to focus on the screen, even as your hips rolled slightly with each flick of his tongue.

“This site’s slow,” you murmured. It was all you could manage. Your voice was shaky, breaking with every tease of his fingers.

“...down...and there, ahh~.”

Sohee didn’t answer. He kissed the inside of your thigh, tongue trailing slowly as his middle finger ran up your slit, parting your folds and feeling just how wet you already were.

You twitched. “Sohee.”

“I know,” he murmured against your skin, like a promise. His lips moved closer, fingers slipping inside your entrance with ease cause of how wet you are, slow and precise, just like he had all the time in the world.

Your breath hitched, your body tightening. “Ahh~ uunnngh~”

Sohee curled his fingers deep inside you, then pulled back only to push again, this time with his tongue joining in, flicking your clit with maddening pressure. His groan vibrated against your wetness, always needy and possessive.

"Baby," you hissed, fingers slipping from the mouse, head tipping back. “Sohee... ohh god…”

He moaned into you, licking you up, messy and hungry. His fingers thrust in and out while his tongue danced, relentless. Your thighs quivered, his name slipping from your lips like a broken prayer again and again.

"You watching me?" he rasped, licking you again, slow, eyes not leaving yours.

You could only nod, with your eyes wide, and your lips parted. Your entire body was flushed, bare, trembling, and you couldn’t look away from how fucking hungry he was for you.

“You taste so good when you’re distracted,” Sohee muttered, lips glossy with your slick.

“Fuck... ahh~ uunngh~” you moaned, your voice breathy and strained, but still not letting go of the mouse. Your hand trembled, your body tensing with each thrust of his fingers and flick of his tongue.

Sohee thrusted deeper, faster, curling his fingers just right. He hummed into you, tongue fucking your clit with a brutal rhythm. The sound, the vibration, the slick noise of his fingers moving in and out of you… all of it echoed in the room like a symphony of filth.

Your toes curled, and your back arching more. All for him.

“Baby,” you gasped, “Sohee... ohh god, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Instead, he grabbed your thigh tighter, tongue working faster now, harder, the tip of it stabbing against your clit in fast, sharp flicks before flattening again, rubbing circles. His jaw ached, but he didn’t care. He sucked your sensitive nub. He wanted you to come undone on his tongue, wanted to taste you breaking.

Your hands were no longer steady on the mouse. The cursor was frozen somewhere on the screen, forgotten.

“F-Fuck, Sohee!” you choked out, head falling back against the headrest again, eyes rolling as your thighs began to shake.

He groaned into you, the sound of him being desperate. He needed you to let go. He needed to feel it, feel you fall apart, to fucking soak his mouth, cry out his name.

“Mmm... fuck, fuck, Sohee!” you cried, loud now, broken and raw and trembling.

You came hard. Your thighs clenched around his head, your hips bucked, and your fingers dug into his scalp as your body seized and trembled violently under the intensity.

Sohee didn’t stop, not even when you came. Especially not then, it's the very best part.

He licked you through it, drinking everything you gave him, lips never leaving your pulsing clit until your body finally slumped back, twitching from overstimulation.

Only then did he pull back, lips glistening, breathing heavy. He looked up at you, seeing his girl all ruined, sweaty, glowing.

You, barely able to form a sentence, blinked down at him, dazed. “You’re not done, are you?”

Sohee smirked, licking your taste off his lips.

“Nope.”

Your body was still shaking, your pussy drenched, clit overstimulated, but your eyes never left him. Your thighs were still spread, twitching from aftershocks, but your hand suddenly gripped his hair and yanked him up.

Sohee barely had time to react before your mouth crashed onto his.

You kissed him deep, all messy and open-mouthed, tasting yourself on his lips. You could only moan at that. Your tongue slipped into his mouth, and Sohee groaned into you like he needed that kiss to stay alive.

Still breathing hard, you slid down the chair, ass inching to the very edge, legs wide and trembling. Your cunt glistened under the monitor’s glow, all swollen and soaked, dripping for him.

“I want it,” you breathed, dragging your mouth along his jaw. “Now.”

Sohee didn’t need to be told twice.

He stood between your thighs, already stroking his cock with slow, lazy pumps, slick with precum, painfully hard, veins bulging along the shaft. His eyes dragged over your ruined form, the way your cunt clenched even as nothing touched it.

“You’re fucking filthy,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse.

You grinned through your haze. “So fuck me like I am,” you breathed.

He leaned over you, hands bracing on the arms of the chair, his face inches from yours. One hand still on his cock, guiding it.

And then he pushed in.

Slowly, stretching you open inch by inch. You gasped into his mouth, nails digging into his back as your pussy swallowed him greedily.

“F-fuck,” Sohee hissed. “You’re so fucking wet.”

You moaned, catching his lips again, gasping into his mouth. “Don’t stop. Please... don’t fucking stop...”

Sohee growled low in his throat, snapping his hips forward. The sound of your wetness echoed through the room, obscene, filthy, perfect. So perfect for him to ruin.

He thrust again. Harder. Your body jolted in the chair, thighs spread wide as he fucked you deep, dragging his cock all the way out before slamming back in, making the chair creak under you both.

Your moans turned desperate, breathless.

“Sohee… ahh, right there, fuck!”

He kissed you again, tongue tangling with yours, one hand gripping your thigh to keep you wide open as his hips snapped into you with punishing rhythm.

“Feel that?” he grunted, fucking you harder now. “Feel how your pussy fucking takes me?”

You nodded wildly, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Yeah… fuck, baby… every inch… fuck…”

He slammed into you deeper, burying himself to the hilt. You choked on your own moan, head falling back, lips parted.

“I wanna see you come on my cock,” Sohee groaned, panting into your ear. “Right now, Y/N.”

And you were close, already shaking again, the heat in your stomach coiling fast.

“Don’t stop… don’t you fucking stop…” you begged, voice broken.

Sohee didn’t. Of course. He gripped you harder, lips crashing into yours again as he pounded into you, fast and filthy.

And you shattered.You came hard. Right there, legs shaking around his waist, crying out into his mouth as your orgasm took you again, harder, more brutal than before, clenching around his cock, soaking him.

Sohee groaned loud, body tensing.

“Shit, fuck… you… gonna…”

Your hand flew to the back of his neck, pulling him close.

“Inside,” you whispered. “I want all of it. Give it to me.”

Sohee slammed in one last time and came hard, cock pulsing inside you, thick ropes spilling deep as he buried his face in your neck and groaned your name.

When you came down from the high. You bit your lip, your boyfriend looking so wrecked, and you giggled, touching his chest, and yes, his cock still inside.

"You're enjoying this," Sohee said.

"Uh-huh," you replied.

Sohee leaned in and kissed you, sucking your tongue.

You moaned, cradling his face.

"You always taste so good," you murmured.

Sohee chuckled. "That's your cum."

You chuckled, moaning into his mouth. "God, I fucking love you."