.-EYGL⋆｡°

SEVENTEEN:

Boo seungkwan

• Do you really like me? Boo Seungkwan x F! Reader

A two shot based on my absolute shit of love life hahaha, This is my first fanfic, so I didn't write a synopsis.

• Girlfriend? Boo Youmi x F!reader

DK and Mingyu are both head-over-heels for Boo Youmi, constantly begging and pleading for a chance with her. No matter how hard they try, she gently turns them down every time. They’ve begun to suspect she already has someone… and they’re so right!

Youmi is madly in love with you, her best friend — her very first and only crush. You’re the prettiest, kindest girl in her eyes, and she’s completely captivated. What you don’t realize is how deeply her feelings run. You joke about her being your “girlfriend,” kiss her cheek, hold her hand, invite her for sleepovers, and even flash her playfully from time to time. To you, it’s all harmless fun between best friends.

And Youmi is losing her mind.

Kwon Soonyoung;

• What r the rules for breakfast today? Kwon Soonyoung x F! Reader

Your roommate (who just happens to be a tiger hybrid) has been driving you crazy since college, now that you live together it's much more complicated to be around him, because it seems he's allergic to clothes.

After a string of bad dates, you decide to try and do something about it. But predictably, he takes charge and shows you what a real tiger is.

Xu Minghao;

• Cocoa butter kisses Xu Minghao x F! Reader

Minghao works as a private art consultant in Seoul, helping clients find pieces that resonate with their soul, while quietly battling his own crisis; the comforting scent of his mother's cocoa butter now replaced by the ever-present smell of weed.

Then someone like him arrives; a foreign woman also searching for peace in a place that isn't home. In her presence, the memory of cocoa butter slowly loses its hold on the word "home.”

Instead, her fresh, sweet scent steals away the grassy smell that clings to him; just as she steals his heart and his homesickness, offering him a new home in this once inhospitable city.

• Gotta be fucking kidding me! Xu Minghao x F!Reader

Working in the fashion industry is a pain in the ass, but working for Xu Minghao in the fashion industry should be a direct punishment from hell.

Yoon Jeonghan;

• Hand me a towel Yoon Jeonghan x F! Reader

Have you ever misgendered your roommate? When you first moved into your assigned dorm, you didn’t bother talking to them. On the rare occasions you tried, they’d only respond with a nod or a shake of the head. It was fine—talking wasn’t necessary. Both of you were too wrapped up in your own worlds to care.Then one day they called out from the bathroom, asking you to hand them a towel. Nothing unusual. Until you opened the door.

Lee Jihoon;

OMG that's to MEAN! DomPerv!Lee jihoon x f!reader

How the hell was it possible that the most innocent person you knew was a fucking degenerate? He, being one of the sweetest and kindest people you've ever met, trespassing on your property, stealing your belongings to give himself some pleasure, is not something you would expect from him.

Summer sun lee jihoon x F!Reader

“Convenient time, Hyung....” Lee Jihoon x F! Reader x Choi Seungcheol

Being the favorite of the group had its advantages. Who would have thought that one of them would be being stuffed with their love dicks!

Taking a vacation on the coastal side of the country where you lived was one of the things you desperately craved to do.

Meeting an angel sent from heaven itself wasn't part of your plan.

But you certainly wouldn't let it go.

Lee chan

God of light music Sex! Pi cheolin x f!reader

Even though he was a business genius, a self-made tycoon, and one of the wealthiest men in the country, Pi Cheolin’s love life had always been a pathetic joke. His engagement barely made it to the altar.

After you left the meeting, the group decided to leave too. What was the point of being there if you weren't there? You were practically the group's favorite, and besides, you had organized the meeting. Rather, you were the one who suggested the idea of doing a “pool party”.

Everyone else helped Seungcheol finish cleaning up, gathered their things, and left, leaving Seungcheol alone in his enormous house.

He went to his refrigerator; it had been quite a while since he had eaten, so hunger was starting to set in. And when he opened it, he was met with the not-so-pleasant surprise that it was empty. “Those idiots ate all my damn food.” he groaned.

It was around 8 pm, and he didn't really feel like going to the supermarket. But he wasn't going to starve. So he went upstairs to get a jacket. And while he was looking for it, he found your cell phone on his nightstand. “Oh!” Now he had an excuse to come visit you, and see you for a little.

One thing about Seungcheol is that he has the biggest crush on you. And how could we not? Pretty you, kind you, happy you. Just you.

Who wouldn't have a crush on you? He was even sure the others in the group felt something for you too. He had noticed how Jun tries to flirt with you with lame compliments. Or how Joshua is such a “gentleman” with you, and tries his best not to stare at your tits or ass when he has the opportunity. Failing miserably, because the flesh is weak, and one gives in to one's greatest guilty pleasures.

But he also noticed how the quietest, shyest, easiest-to-blush member looked at you with an enormous hunger. Jihoon was subtle, but not for seungcheol. He had this kind of "radar" that would activate every time someone tried to "steal" his girl.

Seungcheol chuckled to himself, slipping your phone into his jacket pocket. The initial annoyance of an empty fridge completely evaporated, replaced by a sudden, nervous flutter in his chest.

A trip to the convenience store could easily turn into a detour to your place. It was the perfect crime.

He grabbed his keys, headed out, and locked up the quiet, empty house.

The night air was cool, a sharp contrast to the humid, sun-drenched afternoon they’d spent by the pool. Seungcheol instead of going up to a 24-hour convenience store, blindly throwing random snacks, instant ramen, and a couple of drinks into a basket. Found himself at your front door.

His mind wasn’t on food anymore; it was entirely occupied by what he was going to say when you answered the door.

“Hey, you left your phone.” Simple. Classic. Irrefutable.

He knocked on the door three times. You didn't answer any of them. Something strange was churning in his lower stomach. You weren't one to go out without saying anything. You always let the group chat know, even if you were just going out to pick up a package. —Rule implemented by seungcheol to “prevent” anything—

After another minute of watching your door, Seungcheol let out a breathless, self-deprecating laugh, pulling your phone out of his pocket. “Right. Brain damage,” he muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck.

Of course you hadn’t texted the group chat; your entire lifeline was currently sitting in the palm of his hand, lighting up with a stray notification from a couple of hours ago.

But the initial relief of realizing why you hadn't posted quickly gave way to that familiar, protective knot tightening in his stomach. Even without a phone, you should be inside. It was past 8 PM, you’d left the party tired, and your keys were presumably with you.

He knocked again, a little firmer this time. “Hey? It's Seungcheol. You left your phone at my place.”

Silence. Not even the faint sound of footsteps or a television inside.

His mind immediately started racing, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive, heavily fueled by the fact that he was completely crazy about you. Had you gone down to the lobby to check the mail? Did you slip out to grab dinner because your fridge was as empty as his? Or worse—was something wrong?

He tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it clicked and turned smoothly.

The door nudged open an inch, revealing a pitch-black entryway. Seungcheol’s heart did a violent flip. You never left your door unlocked, especially not at night.

“Hey, I'm coming in,” he called out, his voice dropping into a serious, low register. He stepped across the threshold, instantly reaching for the light switch on the wall.

And then a little sound, like a little whimper, broke the silence of the place. He walked towards the sound; your room.

The little sound stopped being just whimpers, and a voice muffled through the closed door of your room. Something wasn't right. He slammed the door open.

“Yoo-hoo, anyone there?” Seungcheol's voice cut through the room. “You left your phone at my place. I was heading to get some groceries and thought I'd drop it off-”

He froze mid-sentence.

The sight hit him all at once: you face-down on the bed, ass still slightly raised, body covered in fresh marks and sweat, cum clearly leaking down your thighs. Jihoon behind you, naked, breathing hard, one hand still gripping your hip possessively as he slowly pulled out. Silence stretched.

Seungcheol's eyes widened, his grip tightening on the phone in his hand. His mouth opened, then closed. He clearly didn't know where to look, but his gaze kept dragging back to the scene in front of him.

Jihoon didn't rush to cover anything. He simply glanced over his shoulder, still kneeling between your spread legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. His voice came out low and slightly hoarse.

“...convenient timing, hyung.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn't- fuck. I'll just... leave the phone.” But he didn't move. His eyes flicked to you again - the way you were still trembling, barely coherent, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy.

You let out a soft, broken sound, too out of it to feel real embarrassment, your body instinctively clenching around nothing now that Jihoon had pulled out.

Jihoon reached down and lazily pushed two fingers into your leaking cunt, stirring the mess he'd left behind. His eyes never left Seungcheol's.

“You can leave it on the table,” he said calmly, almost too casually. “Or…”

Seungcheol's jaw tightened. And walked towards the scene. Sitting beside you, caressing your hair. “You okay there? Are you ready to give us another round?”

Something about Seungcheol is that he didn't mind sharing. Not with jihoon at least.

Your brain was a complete mush, you couldn't think straight, so you just made a sound, a little whimper.

“What’s that, baby? Use your big girl words” Seungcheol cooed. “I think that's a yes, Hyung” jihoon chuckled behind you, giving your used cunt a slap that made you squirm.

Seungcheol’s fingers threaded gently through your hair, the touch surprisingly tender compared to the heat burning in his eyes. He leaned down closer, his breath warm against your ear as he brushed damp strands away from your flushed face.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing, the same tone he used when he was trying to get the group to agree to one of his ideas. “You’ve been such a good girl for Jihoon already. Let hyung take care of you too. Yeah?”

You managed another broken whimper, hips twitching at the light slap Jihoon had given your sensitive pussy. The sound you made was barely coherent, but your body answered for you—back arching just slightly, pushing your ass higher in a silent plea.

Jihoon let out a soft, satisfied huff of laughter. “Told you. She’s still needy.” His fingers curled inside you again, slow and deliberate, pushing the warm mix of his cum deeper. The wet, obscene sound filled the room, making your thighs tremble. “Greedy little thing. Took everything I gave her and still wants more.”

Seungcheol’s jaw flexed. He glanced down at where Jihoon’s fingers disappeared inside you, then back up to your hazy, half-lidded eyes.

He stood just long enough to shrug off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor along with your forgotten phone. His shirt followed. The sight of his broad, toned chest made your stomach flutter even through the fog in your brain. He was bigger than Jihoon in frame, all solid muscle from years of working out, and right now every inch of him looked coiled with restrained want.

“Move over a bit, Jihoon-ah,” Seungcheol said, voice rough. He climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Instead of taking your pussy right away, he gently rolled you onto your back, facing him. One large hand cupped your cheek while the other slid down your body, mapping the marks Jihoon had already left—red fingerprints on your hips, faint hickeys blooming on your shoulders.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered, almost reverent. His thumb brushed your swollen bottom lip. “All fucked out and still looking at me like that.”

Seungcheol’s thumb kept stroking your bottom lip, his dark eyes locked on yours like he was trying to memorize every dazed, glassy detail. “That’s it… look at me, baby. Just like that.” His voice was rough but gentle.

Jihoon shifted higher on the bed, kneeling beside your head now, his own cock still hard and glistening. One hand lazily pumped himself as he watched Seungcheol settle between your spread legs.

Seungcheol pushed your thighs wider, his broad palms sliding under your knees to fold you open for him. He dragged the thick head of his cock up and down your slick pussy, coating himself in the mix of your wetness and Jihoon’s cum. The filthy sound made your hips jerk.

“Fuck… you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he breathed, almost to himself. Then he pushed in, stretching you open with a deep groan that vibrated through his chest. “So warm… so fucking full already.”

You let out a broken moan as he bottomed out, your walls fluttering around his thicker length. The fullness was overwhelming, especially after Jihoon had already used you so thoroughly.

Jihoon leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss while Seungcheol started moving—long, deep strokes that made your breasts bounce with every thrust. When Jihoon pulled back, he guided the tip of his cock to your lips.

“Open up, princess,” he murmured, voice low and husky. “Let me feel that pretty mouth while hyung fucks you.”

You parted your lips obediently, and Jihoon slid inside with a quiet curse, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. He didn’t push too deep, letting you adjust while Seungcheol’s pace grew steadily rougher.

“Look at her,” Seungcheol growled, eyes fixed where your bodies connected. His thumb found your clit and rubbed tight circles, making your thighs shake. “Taking both of us so well. Such a perfect girl for us.”

The praise made your head spin even more. Jihoon’s hips rocked shallowly into your mouth, his usual quiet intensity cracking into soft grunts and whispered filth.

“Shit— her tongue… always so good,” he hissed. One of his hands reached down to pinch and tug at your nipple, while Seungcheol leaned forward, folding you deeper into the meanest matting press you could’ve imagined, and sucking a fresh mark onto the side of your neck.

They found a rhythm quickly—Seungcheol pounding into your dripping cunt, Jihoon using your mouth in slower thrusts. Every time Seungcheol hit that perfect spot inside you, you moaned around Jihoon’s cock, the vibrations pulling more curses from him.

Seungcheol’s control started slipping. His thrusts grew harder, the wet slap of skin louder as he chased his pleasure. “Gonna fill you up too, baby. Want you leaking both of us when we’re done.”

Jihoon pulled out of your mouth just long enough for you to gasp for air, strings of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his cock. He tapped the wet head against your cheek, smirking faintly.

“Tell hyung how bad you want his cum,” Jihoon cooed, voice deceptively soft. “Use your words this time.”

Seungcheol’s hips snapped forward harder, his thick cock dragging against your walls with every deep thrust.

The wet, filthy sounds of him fucking Jihoon’s cum back into you filled the room. Your eyes were glassy, tears of overstimulation clinging to your lashes as Jihoon lazily tapped his cock against your tongue. Jihoon smirked, gripping your hair a little tighter. “Hear that, hyung? She’s trying so hard to speak.” You pulled off Jihoon’s cock just enough to gasp out a broken, desperate plea, voice hoarse and trembling.“P-please… Seungcheol… hyung… please cum inside me,” you begged, words slurring together.

Your hips rolled up to meet his thrusts, chasing more. “Want your cum… fill me up… please, I need it—need both of you dripping out of me… please cum in my pussy, hyung—”Seungcheol’s eyes darkened, a low, guttural groan ripping from his chest. His grip on your thighs turned bruising as he fucked you harder, the bed creaking under the force.“Fuck, listen to you,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Such a greedy little slut for our cum. Begging so pretty like that.” He leaned down, biting your bottom lip before kissing you messily. “You’re gonna get it, baby. Gonna pump you so full.”Jihoon chuckled darkly, stroking himself as he watched. “She really loses it when she gets desperate.”Seungcheol’s pace turned punishing, his thumb rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit until your whole body seized up. You came hard around him with a broken cry, walls fluttering and squeezing his cock. That finally pushed him over the edge.With a deep, strained moan, Seungcheol buried himself to the hilt and came, flooding your already soaked pussy with thick, hot spurts. He kept grinding through it, pushing his cum deeper while you whimpered and trembled beneath him.

Seungcheol pulled out slowly, a thick glob of his cum leaking from your stretched hole. You were still panting, body twitching with aftershocks, when Jihoon moved.

He lay down on his back in the center of your bed, cock hard and glistening, and pulled you on top of him with strong hands on your hips.

“C’mere, princess,” Jihoon murmured. He guided you to straddle him, facing his chest. You sank down onto his cock with a shaky moan, taking him easily thanks to the mess already inside you. He groaned deeply as your walls clenched around him, hands gripping your ass to hold you flush against his hips.

Seungcheol watched, slowly stroking his still-hard cock as he knelt behind you. He moved between Jihoon’s spread legs, positioning himself right behind your ass.

“You ready to take both of us in this tight little pussy?” Seungcheol asked, voice thick. He rubbed the fat head of his cock against your already-filled entrance, pressing right beside where Jihoon was buried inside you.

You nodded desperately, whimpering. “Please… want both… stretch me full—”

Jihoon reached up and cupped your face, pulling you down so your chest pressed against his. “Relax for us, baby. Breathe.”

Seungcheol pushed forward.

The pressure was intense. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as the thick head of his cock forced its way in alongside Jihoon’s, stretching your walls obscenely wide. Inch by inch, he sank in, both cocks rubbing together inside your slick, cum-filled cunt. The fullness was overwhelming—burning, aching, and so fucking good.

“Fuuuck—” Seungcheol hissed through clenched teeth, eyes locked on where your pussy was stretched impossibly around both of them. “So goddamn tight… look at her taking us.”

Jihoon let out a shaky breath beneath you, one hand sliding down to press lightly on your lower belly, feeling the bulge. “She’s so full. Can feel you throbbing against me, hyung.”

Once Seungcheol bottomed out, all three of you stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to the brutal stretch. Your thighs trembled violently, soft broken whimpers spilling from your lips as your walls fluttered and clenched around the two thick cocks stuffed inside you.

Then they started moving.

Jihoon rolled his hips up from below in slow, deep thrusts while Seungcheol fucked you from above on his knees—powerful, controlled strokes that made your whole body jolt between them. Their cocks dragged against each other and against every sensitive spot inside you with every thrust, pushing Jihoon’s and Seungcheol’s cum in and out in filthy, wet sounds.

“Ah—! Too much… so full—” you sobbed, tears slipping down your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure.

Seungcheol groaned, gripping your hips tighter as he thrust deeper. “You’re doing so good, baby. Taking two cocks in this greedy cunt like a perfect little slut.” He leaned forward, one hand bracing beside Jihoon’s head as he kissed your shoulder. “Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

Jihoon’s hand slipped between your bodies to rub your swollen clit in tight circles, making your eyes roll back. “She’s squeezing us so fucking hard,” he panted, voice strained. His other arm wrapped around your back, holding you down against his chest as he fucked up into you harder.

The rhythm grew faster, more desperate—wet skin slapping, low groans, and your broken moans filling the room. Every thrust pushed more mixed cum out around their cocks, dripping down Jihoon’s balls and onto the sheets.

“Gonna cum again,” Seungcheol growled against your ear. “Want us to fill you up together this time?”

Seungcheol’s thrusts grew deeper and more forceful, his hips slapping against your ass as he drove both cocks even further into your overstretched pussy. Jihoon matched him from below, rolling his hips up in sharp, relentless strokes. The dual pressure was merciless—two thick cocks rubbing together inside you, dragging against every swollen, sensitive inch of your walls with wet, obscene sounds.

You were shaking uncontrollably, tears streaming down your face, mouth open in constant broken cries.

“Too full—ahh—can’t—fuck—!” you sobbed, nails digging into Jihoon’s shoulders.

Jihoon groaned beneath you, sweat-slick chest heaving. “She’s squeezing so fucking tight… gonna milk us dry.” One hand stayed on your clit, rubbing fast and firm, while the other gripped your hip to keep you pinned against him.

Seungcheol leaned over your back, caging you between their bodies. His voice was ragged against your ear. “You begged for our cum, baby. Now you’re gonna take every drop. Gonna fill this greedy little cunt until it’s overflowing.”

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

Your whole body seized up, walls clamping down viciously around both cocks as you came with a silent scream, eyes rolling back. The brutal stretch and overwhelming fullness sent you spiraling hard—thighs locking, pussy gushing around them as wave after wave crashed through you.

“Fuck—!” Seungcheol snarled, slamming in deep. His cock throbbed violently against Jihoon’s as he came first, pumping thick, hot ropes of cum straight into your already ruined pussy.

The added heat and pressure pushed Jihoon over the edge right after. He buried himself to the hilt with a low, guttural moan, spilling deep inside you while his hips jerked up erratically. Both of them kept moving through their orgasms, grinding and thrusting as they flooded your cunt together, mixing with everything already inside you.

Cum leaked out around their cocks in messy spurts, dripping down Jihoon’s balls and onto the ruined sheets. The three of you stayed locked together, panting and trembling as the pleasure slowly ebbed.

Seungcheol pulled out first with a low, shaky groan, his cock glistening with the messy evidence of all three of you. Jihoon followed shortly after, and the moment they left your body, a thick rush of warm cum spilled out of your abused, fluttering hole, soaking the sheets beneath you. You whimpered softly at the empty feeling, your body still twitching with the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm.

“Shh, easy, baby,” Seungcheol murmured immediately, his voice now soft and soothing. He rolled you gently onto your back and brushed sweat-damp strands of hair from your forehead, pressing tender kisses to your flushed cheeks, your closed eyelids, and the tip of your nose. “You did so incredibly well. Our perfect girl.”

Jihoon slipped off the bed and returned within seconds with a warm, damp towel and a bottle of water. He was uncharacteristically gentle as he wiped you clean between your trembling thighs, murmuring quiet praises the entire time. “Look at you… still leaking so much. You took everything we gave you like you were made for us.” His usual sharp edges had completely melted away, replaced by a rare, fond softness in his eyes.

Seungcheol helped you sit up just enough to sip from a water bottle, one large hand rubbing slow circles on your lower back while the other held the bottle steady. “Small sips, sweetheart. There you go. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

Once you were hydrated and cleaned, they rearranged the three of you with practiced care. Jihoon lay on his back and pulled you against his chest so your head rested right over his steady heartbeat. Seungcheol slid in behind you, wrapping one strong arm around your waist and pressing his broad chest flush against your back, cocooning you completely between their warm bodies. The contrast—Jihoon’s quieter, intense comfort and Seungcheol’s big, protective warmth—made you feel impossibly safe and cherished.

“You okay?” Seungcheol whispered against the nape of your neck, dropping soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder. “Any pain? Too sore?”

You shook your head weakly, nuzzling deeper into Jihoon’s chest. “Feels good… just tired. ”

Jihoon let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “That’s our girl.” He tilted your chin up and kissed you—slow, sweet, and full of unspoken affection. When he pulled back, his thumb stroked your cheek. “Been wanting this for so long.”

Seungcheol hummed in agreement, tightening his hold around you. “Same. Every time you smiled at the group, every time you laughed at my dumb jokes or helped me organize things… I was gone for you. Didn’t think I’d ever get to hold you like this.” He paused, then added with a small, shy laugh, “And apparently Jihoon-ah was faster than me.”

“Hyung was too busy being obvious and protective,” Jihoon teased lightly, though his voice stayed gentle. He kissed the top of your head. “But we both knew you were special. Still do.”

You let out a tiny, content sigh, your body finally relaxing completely between them.

You giggled sleepily, the sound making both of them melt a little more. The room grew quiet except for the steady rhythm of their breathing and the occasional soft kiss pressed to your skin.

An. Ok ok, I know, this seems too convenient, too rushed, too much and too bad. SORRY!!!! But, I'll surely come back with something better I PROMISSE!!!!

Taglist

Work is always draining. Deadlines, unbearable coworkers, meetings with people you barely know, awkward arguments, pointless gossip.

Ever since you arrived in Korea to work, you've longed for a vacation on the coast. But to do that, you'd have to work countless hours and hope your boss would take pity on you and let you go.

And after a year working for the company, you finally got your deserved vacation. Two whole weeks off work at the begging of summer, a miracle of timing that meant you’d actually get to see the beach before the chaotic peak-season crowds took over.

The drive to Gwangalli was okay, 5 hours in the road was nothing compared to the countless hours you worked your ass off in the office, waiting for the clock to mark your departure time. The scenery was beautiful, and the journey was made more enjoyable by a lovely playlist that made the trip even more meaningful.

“Told you I loved you, you told me you might, Tell me why you frontin' babe, Say you want to take it slow, When you're ready let me know, I know somewhere we can go to unwind” You were singing/humming Love by Dean. It was your last two hours before reaching your destination. You had left at exactly 1 p.m., hoping to arrive just as the sun was setting.

The road was smooth, no traffic, reasonable tolls. “Maybe it’s time to stop for something to eat.” You located the closest convince store, and arriving there when the song was coming to an end. “It's all about the things you do, That makes me wanna turn to you, It's all about the dreams you grew,That gives my life another view, It's all about the things you do” You sang while parking your car. The song had reached its end when you killed the engine.

“Ahh... What a weather”You felt the change of atmosphere when you left the comfort of your air-conditioned car.

You walked into the convenience store, grabbed a few things, a snack, a drink. And after paying, you headed to the bathroom. To finally get back on your way.

The GPS indicated that you had an hour and a half left to reach your destination. The sun was on its way to setting; this didn't rush you. You had two weeks to observe it, to talk to it and the sea, to tell them your deepest secrets, ask for a wish or two, Let the waves wash away your worries. And burn away all those negative prejudices with the sun's rays.

The sun had not yet fully set when you arrived at your hotel.

“Welcome! May I see the confirmation email so I can provide you with your keycard?” The receptionist's tone was cheerful and welcoming.You did as he asked and he immediately handed you your keycard, also providing you with a bracelet that had the name of the hotel on it.

The walk to your hotel room was silent; the only sound was the rumble of your suitcase wheels against the marble floor. Upon arriving at your room, you opened your suitcase and put on the first swimsuit you found, you applied enough sunscreen, and looked for the digital camera you had brought with you.

“Alright, let's go...” You muttered to yourself. Leaving your room, heading towards the coast.

The hotel had a "private beach" which translates to; it has a path to the beach. When you reached the point where the hotel's concrete met the beach sand, you took off your sandals to feel the sand between your toes. You could feel how the air was heavy with a salty smell, And a delicious heat, which made your desire to go into the sea—which luckily was calm—invade you, but you decided to take your time and take a few photos before walking to the shore, where the few waves that made, soaked your toes, giving you a tickling sensation. You took a few more photos before walking to one of the nearest sunbeds and leaving your belongings, then walking straight to the sea and enjoying the water.

That's when you saw him. Blonde, with fair skin, he looked like an angel sent straight from heaven to earth. His features were delicate, beautiful; it seemed as if they could break at any moment.

여기 ocean view 매일 I'll give it to you (you)

I'll say it again, lovin' you (lovin' you)

너를 계속 알고 싶어, oh, ah

아딜라 키아 아키아 슈라포에 (-포에)

우리만 아는 언어로 주문 거네 (거네)

아딜라 키아 아키아 슈라포에 (-포에)

우리만 아는 언어로 주문 거네

In the distance you could hear a melody that matched the scenery in front of you.

You were so mesmerized, you didn't realize you were staring. And let's just say you're not the most subtle person, and your gaze was rather intense, causing him to turn his head and make eye contact.

He raised an eyebrow, seeing your dumbfounded expression made him chuckle. Realizing this, you tried to look away and go back to what you were doing: going into the sea. But he was already walking through the small waves towards you.

“You know, it's a little weird when people stare at you... Do I have something on my face, hmm?” The guy spoke; he had stopped perhaps half a meter from where you were, the water reached his hips, and seeing him closer, he was even more unreal.

“Sorry...” You barely managed to say, “Are- are you, are you perhaps an angel?” “Pfft— hahahaha, you're funny... What's your name?”

Taken back by his question, you stared at him again. Meanwhile, your subconscious was screaming, "Why the hell are you surprised he asked your name?!", He laughed at you softly again, and finally your brain snapped back to reallity, and you told him your name.

“Nice to meet you... Name's Lee Jihoon. I'm going to guess you're not from around here, right?” you shook your head. “I'm a- a foreigner..” “Yeah, I can tell.”

For a moment neither you nor he said a word,an awkward silence stretched between you two. You couldn't find the words in your head to speak to the most ethereal person you had ever met, and you were grateful for all the opportunities in life that led you to this moment.

“Since you already called me pretty, why don't you invite me a drink, hun?” The nickname made you blush furiously, but you immediately nodded, “Uh, yes, yes, let’s go,” you noticed the bracelet on his wrist, he was in the same hotel, so the place, wouldn't be a problem.

You wanderer out of the sea, you hadn't even been able to get in fully, But that didn't matter at that moment; taking that cutie for a drink seemed more entertaining.

You picked up your things from where you had left them, and walked next to him to the hotel’s beachside bar came into view—low wooden tables, string lights beginning to glow as dusk settled in, and a perfect view of the calm sea.

You ran to one of the tables and pulled out a chair for Jihoon to sit down. He laughed but ended up sitting down anyway, while you took the place in front of him. Finally the waitress arrived, they took their orders, and both ordered cocktails. And once again, silence filled the air.

The silence this time wasn’t as heavy as before, but it still made your heart hammer against your ribs.

To keep your hands from shaking, you adjusted the strap of your digital camera, staring intensely at the small napkin the waitress had left behind.

Jihoon, on the other hand, looked entirely at home. He leaned back in his wooden chair, propping his chin up with one hand. His damp blonde hair caught the very last rays of the setting sun, making him look like he was glowing from the inside out.

He was watching you with an amused, lazy sort of curiosity. “You're doing it again,” he said softly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Doing what?” you blinked, tearing your eyes away from the napkin.

“Trying to stare at everything but me now,” he chuckled, tilting his head. “A minute ago, you were ready to ask for my hand in marriage by calling me an angel, and now you won't even look at me. Did I lose my charm already?” he pouted

“No! No, definitely not,” you blurted out a little too quickly, your cheeks instantly warming up. You cleared your throat, trying to summon whatever corporate professionalism you usually had, though it was entirely useless here. “I'm just... still trying to process that I’m actually on vacation. And that I'm sitting across from someone like you.” Jihoon’s smirk softened into something a bit more genuine, though the playful glint in his eyes didn't vanish. “Someone like me? And what's that supposed to mean, hmm?” “Ethereal. Like you came from heaven itself,” you muttered, looking down at your hands.

Before he could tease you further, the waitress returned, placing two brightly colored cocktails between you. The tropical scent of coconut and lime filled the air, a perfect match for the low hum of the ocean just yards away.

Jihoon wrapped his fingers around his glass, lifting it slightly in a toast. “To your hard-earned vacation, then. And to good timing.” You smiled, clinking your glass against his. The cool, sweet alcohol helped soothe the nervous flutter in your stomach. "So, how long are you staying at the hotel?" you asked, desperate to find a safe topic of conversation. “Just a few days,” Jihoon said, taking a sip of his drink. “I needed a break from the city. The noise, the people... it gets suffocating. But it seems like my luck turned around the moment I got here.”

He leaned forward over the table, narrowing the distance between you just enough to make your breath hitch. “I usually hate the beach, but I'm starting to think coming here was the best decision I've made all year.” Your fingers tightened around your glass. “Why do you hate the beach” “Too hot. Too sticky,” he replied easily, never breaking eye contact. “But right now? The temperature feels just right.”

The string lights above the bar flickered to life, casting a warm, golden glow over the table. The sky had turned a deep, bruised purple, and the first stars were beginning to peek out over the Gwangalli horizon.

Jihoon’s eyes drifted down to the digital camera resting beside your hands. “Are you a photographer?” “Ah, no, it's just a hobby,” you said, glad for the distraction.

You picked up the camera, turning it over in your hands. “I just wanted to capture memories. I worked a whole year without a single day off for this trip. I didn't want to forget any of it.” “Can I see?” he asked, extending a hand. You passed the camera across the table.

His fingers brushed against yours in the handoff—a brief, warm contact that sent a jolt right up your arm. If he noticed how you tensed up, he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned the camera on and began scrolling through the photos you had taken just half an hour ago.

There were shots of the highway, the convenience store parking lot, the sprawling view of the ocean, and the close-ups of the wet sand. "These are nice," Jihoon murmured, his thumb clicking through the gallery. Then, he stopped. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, and he looked up at you from under his blonde bangs.

“Though, I think you missed the best view.” “What view?”

He turned the camera around, holding it up to his own face, framing himself perfectly in the small LCD screen. He gave you a wink, the click of the shutter echoing softly between you. “There,” Jihoon said, sliding the camera back to you. “Now your vacation album is officially complete.”

How many times had you blushed since you met him? This was next level. “T-Thank you…” you murmured before taking a final sip of your cocktail, hoping the cold alcohol would cool your cheeks and bring you back to your senses.

The walk back to your hotel room was silent. You walked beside Jihoon, who had volunteered to drive you. Your shoulders brushed against each other every now and then, making you lose your composure.You held back the urge to squeal every time you felt his warm skin against yours.

“It's here...” You stood in front of your room's door. “Well, I'll let you rest. I hope to see you tomorrow. I'll be at the beach early. Rest well, beautiful.”

He turned around and you watched him disappear down the hallway. When he was out of sight, you went into your room.

You leaned your back against the closed door, letting out a breath you felt like you’d been holding since you first stepped onto the sand.

Your heart was still doing gymnastics against your ribs. Beautiful. He had actually called you beautiful.

With a goofy smile you couldn't quite shake, you walked over to the bed and tossed your digital camera onto the crisp white sheets. Turning it on, you skipped straight to the last photo. There he was, framed perfectly by the cheap LCD screen, blonde bangs slightly damp, eyes crinkling with that effortlessly confident wink. You snapped the camera shut before you could embarrass yourself by staring at it for another hour, and finally forced yourself to face the monumental task of unpacking.

By the time your clothes were hung up and your skincare products were neatly lined up in the bathroom, the clock on the nightstand read just past midnight. The phantom hum of the five-hour drive was finally catching up to you, blending with the pleasant, heavy warmth of the beachside cocktail.

You changed into your favorite oversized white t-shirt, crawled under the heavy duvet, and fell asleep to the distant, rhythmic crashing of the ocean waves.

The next morning, the bright coastal sun filtering through the sheer curtains woke you up earlier than usual. For the first time in a year, there was no harsh alarm, no panicked thought about morning traffic, and no dreading a meeting with an unbearable manager.

You threw on a comfortable black bikini, and covered it with some shorts and a off shoulder beige cropped shirt, swapped your digital camera's battery for a fresh one, and headed downstairs.

The morning air was crisp, carrying that sharp, delicious scent of sea salt. The beach wasn't empty, but it lacked the suffocating chaos. Just a few early-morning joggers and elderly couples walking along the shoreline. And then, right by the concrete edge, you spotted a familiar shock of bright blonde hair. Jihoon was sitting on the sand, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was wearing a simple, loose-fitting white linen shirt that looked incredibly soft, almost the same tone as his fair skin.

He was staring out at the horizon where the sun was still climbing, looking remarkably peaceful—almost small—compared to the vast ocean in front of him.

You hesitated for a second, your sudden wave of shyness hitting you like a physical wall. "Should I go over? What if he was just being polite last night?" Before you could talk yourself into turning back toward the hotel lobby, Jihoon turned his head. It was like he had a radar for your exact brand of lingering, intense staring. As soon as his eyes locked onto yours, a brilliant, genuine smile broke across his face, entirely replacing the lazy smirk from the night before. He lifted a hand, waving you over.

“You're late,” he called out, his voice carrying over the sound of the surf. “I've been waiting out here for an hour.” Your cheeks did that familiar, warm flush as you walked down the concrete path and stepped onto the cool morning sand. “Good morning,” you murmured, stopping a safe few feet away. “I didn't think you were serious about being out here so early.” “I'm always serious when it comes to spending time with a pretty girl, like you,” he said smoothly, he rose up,to stand right in front of you.

Up close, his eyes looked incredibly clear in the morning light. He looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on the camera dangling from your wrist. “Brought the camera again, I see. Planning on capturing more of the best view?” he gave you a sly grin “I-I just wanted to take photos of the morning tide,” you stammered, looking anywhere but his face. Jihoon let out a soft, melodic chuckle that made your stomach flip.

Without warning, he reached out and gently caught your wrist—his touch light but warm—and pulled you a step closer toward the shoreline. “The tide can wait,” Jihoon murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with a playful, teasing glint. “Come on. I know a really good spot for breakfast away from the hotel, but you have to promise to look at me while we eat this time. Deal?” “Mhm..”

The first week of your vacation went by too fast. Jihoon's company made everything go by faster, and feel more unreal.

He was very curious, and you overshared; By this time he already knew where you worked, what area you lived in, what you liked, what you didn't like; he practically knew almost everything about you within a period of 7 days.

And reality hit you on the last Monday of your stay there; it was the beginning of your last week. And you realized how much you liked Jihoon. How captivated you were by him, how comfortable you grew in such short period of time.

But there's a saying that goes, "What happens on the beach, stays on the beach."

This beach fling is probably just that, a crush you'll never see again... You could ask for their number, you could say "we should keep in touch." But you were way too shy to do that. These ideas invaded your mind at 7 in the morning, still lying in your bed. If things ended here, you decided you would make these last few days an unforgettable experience.

You got out of bed and got ready for the day. To spend a beautiful day with Jihoon, just like the previous ones. Make amazing memories to tell your parents, to gossip with your only friend (cat).

Monday and Tuesday blurred together in a haze of salt water, sunburns, and quiet laughter.

You made good on your promise to make every second count. You dragged Jihoon to a tiny, hidden diner down an alleyway that smelled of grilled mackerel and sesame oil, where you finally managed to look him in the eye for more than three seconds straight while eating. After you sank into the ocean, the moon and the stars being the only witnesses to these moments.

On Tuesday afternoon, you convinced him to take a ride on the local bus just to see where it went, your shoulders bumping with every sharp turn the driver took through the coastal hills.

Whenever you looked at him, you took a mental picture, terrified of the day you'd have to rely purely on your memory. He caught you doing it constantly.

“You're storing me away in that brain of yours again, aren't you?” he’d tease on Wednesday evening, leaning against a concrete railing as the sea breeze ruffled his blonde hair. “Just ask for a photo if you want one, hun.”

You’d just turn red, look down at your sandals, and change the subject. It was easier that way.

Wednesday, you spent the whole day inside the spa of the hotel. Sharing stories, talking about whatever. It was so easy to love him, it was so easy to listen to him, it's so easy to want to stay here. Not go anywhere else.

Maybe you would ask for his number. You thought, while laying down on bed, after spending the day with him.

By Thursday morning, the light filtering through your hotel curtains felt entirely different. It was heavier.

The weekend was looming, and with it, the undeniable end of your two weeks of paradise. You had to leave the next day so you could get home, unpack properly, and rest a bit before returning to work.

You dressed slowly, pulling on a simple outfit, and packed your camera before heading down to your usual meeting spot by the steps. The humidity had picked up, a warm coastal haze settling over. Jihoon was already there, balancing a couple of iced lattes from the corner cafe.

He looked up as you approached, his eyes tracking you with that familiar, easy intensity. “You look deep in thought today,” he said, handing over your drink.

His fingers brushed yours, and instead of pulling away instantly like you did on the first Monday, you let your hand linger for just a fraction of a second.

“Just realizing it's Thursday,” you admitted softly, taking a sip of the bitter, cold coffee. “The week is practically over.” Jihoon quieted down, his playful smirk dipping into something a bit more subdued. He looked out at the water, where the waves were rolling in a little heavier than usual. “Yeah. It goes fast when you're actually enjoying yourself.” He turned back to you, tilting his head. “Come on. Let's walk. I found a path further down the coast yesterday that leads to a cliff overlooking the whole bay.”

You walked side-by-side along the edge of the sand, the boardwalk noise fading behind you as the path began to slope upward into a shaded, rocky trail. The silence between you wasn't awkward anymore—it was thick, loaded with all the things you were both choosing not to say out loud.

When you reached the top of the cliff, the view opened up entirely. The Gwangan Bridge stretched across the horizon, cutting through the blue-gray water, and the city looked tiny from up here. The wind was stronger, whipping your hair across your face. You pulled out your digital camera, holding it up to your eye to frame the horizon, trying to focus on the lines of the bridge to steady your hands.

“Hey,” Jihoon's voice murmured right beside your ear. You lowered the camera, turning your head to find him standing incredibly close. The wind had pushed his blonde bangs back, exposing the sharp, delicate lines of his face. The playful, flirting armor he usually wore was completely gone. His gaze was steady, piercing, and entirely fixed on you.

“Are you going to look through that lens the whole day, or are you going to look at me?” he asked quietly. “I'm just taking a picture,” you whispered, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs.

Jihoon didn't laugh this time. He stepped closer, narrowing the space between you until you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the salty air.

He reached out, his warm fingers gently wrapping around your wrist, lowering your camera completely. He didn't let go. His thumb brushed against the inside of your wrist, right over your racing pulse.

“You've told me everything about your life back in the city this week,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, intense register that made your breath hitch. “Your deadlines, your long hours, the things you love, the things you hate. But you haven't said a single word about the way I make you feel.” You looked down at your joined hands, your throat tight. “I-...I..” he was so close to your face now, so close you thought he was about to kiss you.

And then, his expression changed to one of those sly grins he loved to give you “The last one to get to the bottom is a rotten egg!” and he started running.

In that exact moment, standing on the edge of a cliff in Gwangalli with the wind howling around you and the ghost of his hand around your wrist, the truth hit you like a physical wave. You weren't just experiencing a fleeting summer crush to tell your friends about. You were deeply, hopelessly, and completely in love with Lee Jihoon—and you had absolutely no idea how you were going to walk away from him in three days.

You laughed, your heart was about to be broken by the most beautiful being in the world. But who cares? You ran as fast as you could, catching up to him, overtaking him, and reaching the finish line first. Laughing like you hadn't in years, he arrived seconds later and hugged you. “That's not fair! You're good at this.”

Thursday night.

The weather had turned slightly humid, a warm coastal breeze whipping up the dark waves of the ocean. Jihoon had found a secluded spot away from the main boardwalk, a quiet stretch of sand leading right down into the water. The two of you were sharing a container of sweet, crunchy dakgangjeong (fried chicken) and a couple of cold beers.

“Hey,” Jihoon said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. He set his beer down on the sand between you. “Give me your hand.” “Why?” you blinked, your fingers instantly tensing up. “Just give it here.” He chuckled, reaching over and taking your right hand in his.

His palm was warm, his fingers wrapping firmly around yours. He didn't let go. Instead, he just looked down at your joined hands, his thumb gently tracing the back of your knuckles.

“Your hands are always so cold. Even in the summer.” “Bad circulation,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper. Your face was burning so hot you were certain he could feel the heat radiating off you. Jihoon didn't tease you this time. He just squeezed your hand tightly, his eyes lifting to look at your face. The playful, flirtatious glint that he usually wore like a shield was completely gone. In its place was something intense, steady, and incredibly heavy.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice cutting through the sound of the crashing waves below, “I've met a lot of people in the city. A lot of people who talk constantly but never actually say anything. But this past week... just sitting here listening to you talk about your life, your hobbies, even your terrible job... I don't think I've felt this quiet in my head for a long time.” He leaned in closer, the scent of the ocean and his clean cologne completely enveloping you.

His eyes searched yours, sincere and devastatingly close. “I'm really glad you stared at me last week.” Looking into his clear eyes in the dim coastal light, the fragile boundary you had set up in your mind completely shattered.

The word like didn't even begin to cover the weight in your chest anymore. As you sat there on the warm sand, your hand locked in his, a wave of terrifying clarity hit you.

You were about to get your heart broken in a million pieces.

“I think it's time to go back inside,” you murmured. He smiled gently and stood up, offering you a hand to help you up, which you accepted.

They walked to your room. "It's now or never," you thought. “Do you want to... come in?”

He gave you a faint smile. “I'd like that,” you smiled back and let him in.

Your room wasn't as you had left it in the morning; the bed was already made, the bathroom was rearranged, and the room smelled of air freshener.

“Do you mind if I put on some music?” he asked, pulling out his phone. “No I don't mind, go ahead.”

The first song that played from his phone was summer sun by Common Saints.

Get it on, get it on in the summer sun

When the love is around everybody's feeling

You excused yourself to go to the bathroom to remove the little makeup you were wearing and wash your face.

You took out the dropper of a bottle of serum and applied a few drops to your hands to begin spreading it over your face. When you realized from the reflect of the mirror Jihoon was there. Leaning against the outside wall of the bathroom.

You laughed when you realized, dried your hands and turned to look at him, leaning your butt against the sink. “Now who's the one who can't live without me?” You finally dared to tease him.

Jihoon’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, a low chuckle escaping him as he uncrossed his arms. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, crossing the threshold into the bathroom.

The dim vanity lights caught the golden edges of his blonde hair, but his eyes stayed entirely fixed on you, glittering with that familiar, dangerous mischief. “Look at you, getting bold on your last night,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he closed the remaining distance between you.

He stopped less than a foot away, trapping you against the porcelain edge of the sink. “Who said anything about not being able to live without you? Maybe I just wanted to make sure you weren't trying to escape through the bathroom window.” “Riiiight, because escaping from the third floor makes total sense,” you countered, your voice a little breathier than you intended.

Jihoon didn't say anything for a second. His gaze drifted down to your face, tracking the slight glow of the serum on your skin, before settling back on your eyes. His usual playful smirk slowly softened into something incredibly tender. You raised your hand, your thumb gently catching a stray lock of his hair and tucking it behind his ear,

“You didn't finish doing your routine,” he whispered, while your thumb was still lingering on his jawline, tracing a slow, agonizingly sweet circle. “Go on. Don't let me interrupt.” “It's kind of hard to focus when you're standing right there, staring like that,” you muttered, looking down at his chest to avoid melting completely under his gaze.

“Good,” Jihoon chuckled softly,“Now we're even for last week.” The smooth, rhythmic beat of Summer sun drifted in from the bedroom, filling the small space between you with a heavy, electric tension.

When the love is around it's a wonderful feeling

(What a feeling, ooh, what a feeling)

I say hey (hey, hey)

I say hey (hey, hey, hey)

I say he-e-e-e-ey (he-e-e-e-ey)

“Jihoon...” your voice was barely a squeak. “Mmh?” he murmured, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second before locking back onto yours with a terrifyingly sincere intensity.

“You're gonna be the death of me.”

You didn’t wait for a reply. Crashing your lips against his, you slid both hands behind his neck and kissed him like it might be the last time—Because it actually was.

You backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall outside the bathroom, trapping him between the hard surface and your body.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” you breathed between kisses, the words almost a growl. “So fucking pretty.” Your hands roamed greedily down his chest and sides, mapping every line of him until they settled at his waist. There you hesitated, fingers twitching with want. Jihoon didn’t hesitate. He covered your hands with his own and slowly guided them lower, pressing your palms firmly over the curve of his ass. The entire motion never broke the kiss.

His grip lingered for a moment, pressing your fingers in, showing you what he wanted. You squeezed gently, then harder when his breath hitched. A low sound rumbled in his chest—quiet, almost reluctant, like he hadn’t meant to let it slip.

Emboldened, you pressed your body closer, slipping one thigh between his legs. He shifted his stance just enough to let you in, hips rolling forward in a slow, deliberate grind that made heat pool low in your belly.

You broke the kiss to breathe against his neck, lips brushing skin. Jihoon tilted his head to the side, giving you room. You took the invitation, kissing along the column of his throat, tasting the faint salt of his skin. One of his hands stayed on your lower back, holding you against him, while the other threaded loosely through your hair—not pulling, just resting there with quiet weight.

Your hands kept moving—squeezing, stroking, learning the shape of him. Every time your touch grew firmer, his breath deepened. When you dragged your nails lightly over his clothed ass, his hips jerked forward once, seeking more pressure. You gave it to him without hesitation, pressing your thigh up to meet each lazy roll of his body.

Jihoon exhaled shakily near your ear. “Don’t rush, baby, we've got all night.” he murmured. His fingers tightened briefly in your hair, then relaxed again, guiding your mouth back to his. The kiss slowed, turning lush and deep, his tongue sliding against yours with unhurried control. You melted into it, happy to follow wherever he led.

“Will you be good to me and do what I say?” he asked, pulling back just enough to speak against your lips. You nodded without hesitation, breathless.

Jihoon smiled softly. He gave you a gentle push, guiding you back a few steps until your legs met the edge of the bed, then lowered you onto the mattress. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as he climbed over you and settled comfortably in your lap. His weight felt perfect

He leaned down and kissed you again, deeper this time, savoring every second like he wanted to commit your taste to memory. His tongue moved lazily against yours. One of his hands cradled the side of your face while the other rested on your chest, feeling the quick rise and fall of your breathing.

When he finally pulled back, he pressed his nose to yours, eyes half-lidded. His voice dropped to a low murmur.

“I want you to eat me out, are you okay with that?”

Your eyes lit up with unmistakable hunger. You nodded quickly, almost eagerly, as if he’d just offered you something sacred. Jihoon let out a quiet breath of amusement, brushing his thumb across your lower lip. “Yeah? That excited?” “Mhm..”

He climbed off your lap and began undressing, slowly peeling away each garment with deliberate, almost torturous movements. When he was fully naked, you couldn’t help the soft curse that slipped out.

“Fuck..”

He was beautiful. Smooth, pale skin glowing warmly under the bedroom lamp, every line of his body soft yet defined. Your mouth went dry at the sight.

He climbed back onto the bed and gave you one more lingering kiss before shifting higher up your body. His knees settled on either side of your chest as he turned around, presenting himself to you. You watched, heart hammering, as he positioned himself over your face, thick thighs framing your head.

He reached back with one hand, threading his fingers gently into your hair. “Go on, then,” he murmured, lowering himself until you could feel the heat of him. “Take your time. I want to feel that pretty tongue.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hands slid up the back of his thighs, gripping firmly as you pulled him closer.

The first slow, deliberate lick drew a low, shaky groan from him.

Encouraged, you explored with long, wet strokes—teasing, circling, pressing deeper whenever his breath hitched or his hips twitched forward. Jihoon’s grip in your hair tightened slightly as he rocked gently against your mouth. “Fuck… just like that,” he sighed, voice rougher now. “You’re so good for me.”

You poured yourself into it completely; licking, sucking, and fucking him with your tongue in slow, devoted strokes. Every moan and shudder he gave you only made you hungrier.

You squeezed his ass, spreading him open a little more so you could bury your face deeper, moaning against him so he could feel the vibration. Above you, Jihoon’s breathing grew heavier. His thighs trembled faintly around your head as he rocked gently against your mouth, chasing the pleasure at his own pace. One hand stayed tangled in your hair while the other braced your clothed breast. The soft, breathy sounds he made—half sighs, half groans—were addictive.

“Slow down a little,” he murmured after a while, voice low and husky. You obeyed instantly, switching to long, languid licks that made his back arch. “Good girl… yeah, just like that. You love this, don’t you?” You hummed affirmatively against him, lost in the taste and heat of his body, completely content to stay here as long as he wanted.

You hummed affirmatively against him, lost in the taste and heat of his body. After a few more slow, devoted strokes of your tongue, you gently pushed his hips up just enough to create space. Your hand slid between his thighs, and you slowly traced a finger around his entrance, still slick from your mouth. Jihoon shivered at the new sensation, a quiet exhale escaping him.

“Can I?” you asked softly, voice muffled beneath him.

He gave a small nod, hips tilting back toward your hand in clear permission.

You eased one finger inside him carefully, savoring the tight heat and the way he clenched around you. At the same time, you reached around with your other hand and wrapped your fingers around his cock. He was already hard and leaking, heavy in your palm. You began stroking him in slow, steady motions while your finger curled gently inside him, searching for that spot that made his breath stutter.

Jihoon groaned, low and ragged. The dual pleasure made his thighs tremble around your head.

“Spit in my hand, baby,” you murmured, momentarily pulling your stroking hand away and holding it up toward him. “Don’t want it dry.”

He didn’t hesitate. Leaning forward slightly, Jihoon gathered saliva and let it drip onto your palm. The wet sound made heat flare through you. You smeared it over his cock, coating him thoroughly, then resumed stroking, smoother and faster now, twisting your wrist at the head on every upstroke, your finger kept pressing and rubbing inside him, and your tongue savored and played with his perineum.

The effect was immediate. Jihoon’s moan was deeper this time, almost broken. His hips rocked between your mouth, your finger, and your fist, chasing every sensation. Pleasure rolled through him in visible waves, his back arching, his breathing turning ragged.

His hands grew restless. He reached down, tugging at the hem of your top with impatient fingers, trying to pull it upward. “Off,” he breathed, voice rough with need. “Want to see you… let me see your tits.”

You helped him without stopping your movements, shifting just enough to let him drag your shirt up and over your collarbones so he could mess with your bra. The moment your breasts were bare, his hands found them greedily, palming, squeezing, thumbs brushing over your nipples. His touch was hungry but still controlled, fingers tightening whenever your tongue or finger hit a particularly good spot.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he groaned, hips grinding down harder against your mouth and hand.

You curled your finger inside him, stroking that sensitive spot with steady pressure. Then you slowly added a second finger, easing them in together. Jihoon’s breath hitched sharply at the stretch, a low, broken moan spilling from his lips as you worked both fingers deeper, scissoring gently while your tongue continued its hungry work. Your other hand kept stroking his cock in tight, slick pulls, thumb swirling over the leaking head.

His thighs began to shake around your head. His breathing turned ragged and desperate.

“Shit— I’m close,” he rasped, voice strained.

Suddenly he lifted off you, turning around with urgent grace. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust as he looked down at your flushed, glistening face. Without a word, he gripped your jaw gently but firmly, leaning in to spit directly into your open mouth. The warm, wet sound made your core clench.

“Open big,” he murmured, voice rough.

You obeyed instantly. He pushed forward, sliding his cock past your lips in one smooth thrust. The taste of him filled your senses. He didn’t stop until he was buried deep, the head nudging the back of your throat. Your eyes watered instantly as you gagged softly around his length, but you relaxed your throat and took him, blinking up at him through the tears that clung to your lashes.

Jihoon groaned deeply at the sight, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other stroked your cheek.

“Look at you…” he breathed, voice thick with arousal. “So fucking pretty like this, oh god, I'm gonna cum at this, ahhh, sight...”

He began to thrust—slow and deep at first, then gradually faster, watching every obscene expression with dark fascination. The way your lips stretched around him, the wet sounds of your throat, the tears slipping down your cheeks. You moaned around his cock, the vibrations pulling another shaky curse from him. Your hands gripped his thighs, pulling him deeper even as you gagged and drooled.

“Fuck— that’s it, baby. Take it all,” he panted, hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. His grip in your hair tightened as pleasure coiled tighter inside him. “Gonna cum in your mouth… you’re gonna swallow every drop for me, yeah?”

You nodded desperately around him, eyes glassy and teary, cheeks hollowed as you sucked. A few more deep, messy thrusts and Jihoon’s rhythm faltered. With a low, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, pulsing thickly across your tongue and down your throat. You swallowed around him, taking everything he gave you while soft, broken moans spilled from his lips.

He stayed in your mouth for a long moment afterward, breathing heavily, gently stroking your hair as you cleaned him with soft, obedient licks. When he finally pulled out, a string of saliva and cum connected your lips to his cock. He wiped your tear-streaked cheek with his thumb.

“Good girl,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Such a good fucking girl for me.”

He got off you and leaned back on the headboard, spreading his legs wide, giving you a full view. You looked at him hungrily and lay down, aligning your face with his entrance, and went back to eating him out, his taste was addictive, and as you worked your tongue, you inserted two fingers. His breathing became ragged again.

He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you onto his balls. “Suck them, I want you to suck my fucking, ah!, balls, baby.” You did what he asked.

Jihoon’s breath was already ragged as he pulled you up from between his thighs, eyes dark and gleaming with hunger. “Enough, baby. Get up here. I need you to fuck yourself on my cock right now.”

You crawled up his body, kissing along his thighs, his hips, the soft plane of his stomach, until you were straddling his lap. Jihoon sat propped against the headboard, looking up at you with dark, half-lidded eyes. His hands settled on your waist, thumbs stroking slow circles over your skin as he helped you settle.“Take these off,” he whispered, tugging at the waistband of your shorts and underwear. You obeyed quickly, stripping them away and tossing them aside. The cool air of the room hit your heated skin, but it did nothing to calm the ache between your legs.

“Fuck, you’re dripping everywhere,” he groaned, running his fingers through your slick folds. “Look at this messy little pussy… all sloppy for me already. Come on—sit on it. Take every inch like a good girl.”

You sank down slowly, moaning as he stretched you open. The thick slide made your thighs tremble. Jihoon’s head fell back against the headboard with a broken moan, lips parting.

“Fuuuuck—yes… that’s it. So fucking tight and hot around me. Shit…” His fingers dug into your hips as you bottomed out, your ass flush against his thighs. He let out a shaky, needy sound that went straight to your core.

You started moving, rolling your hips first. Jihoon’s moans turned constant, and shameless.

“Ahh… just like that, baby. Grind on it. Let me feel how greedy you are.” He looked up at you, blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, eyes half-lidded. “Bounce for me. Yeah—fuck—higher. Let me see my cock disappear inside that pretty cunt.”

You planted your hands on his chest and started riding him properly, lifting until just the head stayed inside before slamming back down. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room with every bounce. Jihoon’s moans grew louder, rawer.

“Fuck—fuck—yes! Just like that—nghh—harder, baby. Ride me like you mean it.” His voice cracked into a whimper when you clenched around him. “God, you’re squeezing me so fucking good. This pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it?”

Sweat was already sliding down your spine. Jihoon’s chest glistened with it too, skin hot and slick where your bodies slapped together. He kept talking, filthy and desperate between moans.

“Shit—slower now… yeahhh, just like that. Drag it out. I want to feel every fucking inch sliding in and out of you.” He groaned long and low when you obeyed, rolling your hips in deep, luxurious strokes. “Fuuuuck, you’re so wet I can hear it. Listen to how sloppy your cunt is for me.”

One of his hands slid up to squeeze your breast, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you gasp. The other stayed on your ass, guiding you, occasionally slapping lightly to urge you faster.

“Don’t stop—ahh, fuck—keep bouncing on it. Look at you… riding me so well, huh? Taking such good care of my cock.” His moans turned breathier as you sped up again, thighs burning, sweat dripping between your breasts. “Yes—yes—right there—nghh—deeper, baby. Fuck me deeper.”

He pulled you down into a messy, open-mouthed kiss, tongues sliding hot and wet while you kept riding him. Every downward thrust drew fresh, shameless moans from his throat that vibrated into your mouth.

“God, I love how you feel,” he panted against your lips, voice wrecked. “So warm… so fucking tight. You’re gonna milk me so good tonight, aren’t you? Keep going—don’t you dare slow down yet. I want you sweating and shaking on my dick.”

Jihoon’s moans were getting louder, needier, his hips bucking up to meet every bounce as you rode him.

“Fuck—baby, slow down… I’m getting too close,” he panted, voice wrecked and breathy. “Don’t wanna cum yet. Turn around for me. Reverse. I want to watch that pretty ass while you fuck yourself on my cock.”

You lifted off him with a wet sound, both of you groaning at the loss. Jihoon quickly scooted back against the headboard, legs spread wide. You turned around, giving him a perfect view of your ass as you straddled him again, facing away. He lined himself up and you sank back down in one smooth motion.

“Fuuuuck yes—” Jihoon moaned loudly, the new angle making him hit even deeper. “That’s it—ride me just like that. Look at this fat ass bouncing on my dick… shit, you’re taking me so well.”

You started moving again, bouncing harder, your ass slapping against his thighs with every drop. Jihoon’s hands gripped your cheeks, spreading them so he could watch every inch of his cock disappearing inside your soaked pussy.

“Oh my god—nghh—fuck, listen to how wet you are,” he groaned, voice cracking into high, desperate moans. “Sloppy fucking cunt—ahh! ahh!—swallowing me whole. Faster, baby—bounce on it, use me.”

Sweat poured down your back. The room was thick with heat and the filthy sounds of sex. Jihoon kept talking, moaning shamelessly between every sentence.

“Yes—yes—fuck me just like that—shit, I’m so deep… gonna fill you up so good. You want my cum, don’t you? Want me to pump this tight pussy full?”

You moaned loudly, clenching around him. Jihoon’s breath hitched.

“Fuck—change again. On your back. I need to see your face when I breed you.”

He pulled you off him and flipped you onto the bed in one smooth motion. You landed on your back and he immediately climbed between your legs, pushing them wide open. He slid back inside you in a single thrust, groaning deep and long as your walls squeezed him.

“Fuck yes—look at me,” he demanded, voice husky. He started fucking up into you with steady, deep strokes, hips snapping while he stayed mostly on his back, letting you feel his power from below. One hand gripped your thigh, the other reached between you to rub your clit in tight circles.

Jihoon’s moans turned constant and filthy, eyes locked on yours, blonde hair messy and damp with sweat.

“Ahh—ahh—fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight—nghh!—gonna cum soon… I can feel it. This pussy is milking me—shit—shit—!”

His thrusts grew faster, more desperate, the wet slap of skin echoing louder. He pulled your legs over his shoulders, folding you deeper, pounding up into you with raw need.

“I’m so close—fuck, I’m right there,” he whined, voice breaking beautifully. “Gonna cum inside you—gonna fill this pretty cunt up—ahh, ahh, fuck—! You’re gonna take every drop, right? Tell me you want it—!”

You moaned his name and clenched hard around him.

That finally broke him.

Jihoon’s eyes rolled back, mouth falling open in a long, shattered moan. “Fuuuuck—! Cumming— I’m cumming—!”

His hips stuttered violently as thick, hot spurts of cum flooded deep inside you. He kept thrusting through it, pushing his load deeper with every twitch and jerk of his cock, moaning loudly and shamelessly the entire time.

“Take it—take all of it—nghh—fuck, it’s so much… filling you up so good… good girl—my good fucking girl—ahhh…!”

He kept grinding slowly into you even as the last pulses faded, panting hard, sweat dripping from his chest onto yours. His cock twitched sensitively inside your cum-filled pussy as he caught his breath, eyes hazy with pleasure.

“Shit… that was intense,” he whispered, voice hoarse, a lazy, satisfied smirk finally tugging at his lips. “You took me so well, baby.”

Jihoon let out a long, contented sigh as he gently pulled out of you, a soft whimper escaping him at the loss of warmth. A trickle of his cum leaked down your thigh, but he didn’t seem to mind. He simply rolled onto his back and tugged you gently into his arms.

You settled against him, chest to chest, one leg draped over his. His skin was warm and slightly damp with sweat, heart still beating fast beneath your cheek. He wrapped both arms around you, holding you close in a loose but secure embrace. One hand slowly stroked up and down your back in soothing motions, while the other gently threaded through your hair.

The room was quiet except for the distant rhythm of the waves and your slowing breaths. Jihoon pressed a lazy, tender kiss to the top of your head, then another to your forehead, his lips lingering sweetly.

“Mmm… you’re so warm,” he whispered, voice hoarse and sleepy. He nuzzled his face into your hair, breathing you in. “Stay like this. Feels perfect.”

You smiled softly against his chest, melting into the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. His fingers kept tracing lazy patterns along your spine, slow and affectionate. Everything felt safe. Intimate. Like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Lying there in his arms, the thought returned.

Should I ask for his number now?

Your heart fluttered nervously. This week had been too good. Too real. You didn’t want it to end with just a memory. You wanted to keep him — even if it was just texts, calls, or the hope of seeing him again.

You opened your mouth slightly, the words forming on your tongue: Jihoon… can I have your number?

But your eyelids were already too heavy. The exhaustion of the day, the emotional weight of the past two weeks, and the warm, comforting feeling of being held so tenderly by him pulled you under. Your body relaxed completely against his, breath slowing as sleep quietly overtook you.

In your last hazy thought, you told yourself it would be okay.

Tomorrow morning… he’ll still be here. I’ll wake up and he’ll be right beside me in this bed. I can ask him then.

With that soft hope lingering in your mind, you drifted off completely, safely wrapped in Jihoon’s arms as the ocean waves continued their gentle lullaby outside.

Morning arrived slowly. You woke up as the sun began to illuminate your room. You felt a little cold because you were still naked. And when you finally opened your eyes.

He wasn't there.

Your eyes widened in shock when you realized this, and you sat up in bed. The cold air conditioning hit your bare breasts, making your skin crawl.

You stood up completely, realizing that you hadn't even cleaned yourself up afterward, as a few drops of his release were still dripping from your entrance. You rushed to the bathroom to clean yourself up a bit. Taking a shower too quickly.

"Perhaps he went back to his room, I'll probably find him on the beach, or in the lobby."

Your mind tried to improve the situation and calm you down, but something in your chest felt that something was wrong.

The hot water from the shower did nothing to wash away the sudden, icy dread settling deep in your stomach. You scrubbed your skin in a frantic rush, barely registering the sting of the soap or the ache in your thighs from the night before.

He just went to change, you told yourself, your hands shaking as you shut off the faucet. He’s just being considerate. He didn't want to wake me up.

You wrapped a towel tightly around yourself and stepped back into the bedroom. The room was blindingly bright now, the morning sun exposing every corner. The bed sheets were completely tossed and ruined, a stark, messy reminder of the intense, breathless hours you had spent wrapped up in his arms.

You quickly pulled on a loose black top and a pair of comfortable slacks, not even caring how your hair looked as you scrambled around the room to find your keycard.

If he's gone, maybe he left me a note. You thought as you searched for your keycard. You found it, but no trace of a note.

That made you breathe for a moment. Thinking that he really wouldn't have left without saying goodbye or just like that after sharing such an intimate moment.

You ran to the lobby; it was the exact time you meet every single morning. You saw a head of blonde hair with its back to you, and you let out a sigh. "I knew you wouldn't just leave like that," you thought. You ran to the person.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You said, while touching his shoulder, what a nasty surprise you got when the person turned around and it wasn't him.

The man turned around, a confused expression on his face as he looked down at your hand on his shoulder. He wasn't Jihoon. His features were entirely different, older, and the blonde hair that had given you a sudden spike of hope was just a brassy dye job.

“Sorry?” the man said, blinking at you.

“Ah—sorry. I thought you were someone else,” you stammered, pulling your hand back as if you'd just touched a hot stove. Your face burned with a mix of embarrassment and a sudden, violent return of that icy dread.

You bowed quickly in apology and stepped backward, your eyes frantically scanning the rest of the lobby. It was the exact time you met every single morning, right down to the minute. The reception area was bustling with a few early check-outs, the glass doors reflecting the bright morning sun, but there was no sign of the real shock of soft, pale-blonde hair. No lazy, amused smirk waiting for you near the entrance.

Your chest felt tight, the air suddenly hard to breathe. Check the beach, your mind demanded, a frantic, desperate command. He said he liked the morning air. Maybe he's sitting on the sand as always, waiting for me.

You practically bolted through the lobby doors, the heavy glass swinging shut behind you. The transition from the air-conditioned hotel to the humid, salty air of the beach usually felt like a warm embrace, but today it just felt suffocating.

Your sandals slapped against the concrete path as you hurried down to the sand, your eyes darting over the shoreline.

The beach was relatively quiet, just like every other morning of your stay. A couple of joggers passed by. An elderly man was walking his dog near the water's edge.

But the spot where you used to sit and have a morning chat, was empty.

You walked over to the edge where the hotel concrete met the beach sand. You stood there for a long time, the wind whipping your hair across your face, staring out at the calm blue horizon.

He was really gone.

The realization didn't hit you like a sudden wave; it sank into you slowly, heavy and cold. He hadn't left a note because a note would mean an acknowledgment of what you were leaving behind. He had taken your unspoken word from the cliff: What happens on the beach, stays on the beach. He had treated the past two weeks like a beautiful, flawless dream, and now that the weekend was here, the dream was over.

He had stepped back into his life in the city, leaving you standing on the shore with nothing but the ghost of his touch and a heart broken into a million jagged pieces.

Slowly, your legs feeling heavy and hollow, you turned around and walked back to the hotel.

The elevator ride up to the third floor was completely silent, the rumble of your own thoughts filling the small space.

When you unlocked the door to your room, the mess on the bed was exactly as you had left it. The scent of his clean cologne still lingered faintly in the air, a cruel contrast to the empty room. You walked over to the dresser, your eyes landing on your digital camera.

You picked it up, your thumb trembling as you switched it on and clicked into the gallery. You scrolled past the shots of the highway, the convenience store, the hidden diner, and the local bus, until you reached that very first photo of him—the one where he had held the lens up to his face and winked at you under the golden string lights. You weren't able to keep looking at the photos because in each one, his face was the main focus.

A single, hot tear finally slipped down your cheek, dripping onto the small LCD screen.

You had wanted an unforgettable vacation to wash away a year of corporate exhaustion and mindless gossip. You had wanted memories to take back to your quiet life in the city, something to look back on when the deadlines became too heavy.

You got exactly what you asked for. You had a camera full of the most beautiful boy in the world, a deep, ache in your chest that told you you were hopelessly in love, and a five-hour drive back to reality waiting for you at checkout.

“Fuck you, fuck you Lee Jihoon.” You murmured, finally letting yourself cry.

The camera felt impossibly heavy in your hands. You sank onto the edge of the bed again, staring at that frozen wink through blurred vision. The string lights in the photo glowed soft and golden behind him, the same ones that had framed your first real conversation. You could still hear the distant crash of waves in the background of that memory.

The beach had betrayed you.

It had been the perfect accomplice — wide, open, endless. It made everything feel temporary and eternal at the same time. The waves erased footprints within minutes. The tide carried away conversations. The salt air made every touch feel heightened, every word feel profound. Under that vast sky and beside that restless sea, falling in love had felt inevitable. Safe, even. Because nothing that beautiful could demand permanence.

You had let yourself believe the ocean was giving you permission. That the sun warming your skin and the wind tangling your hair were conspiring with you. That a man like Lee Jihoon could appear like a mirage — delicate, glowing, almost unreal — and that the beach would let you keep even a small piece of him.

But beaches don’t keep things.

They swallow them. They smooth them over. They turn intense, once-in-a-lifetime moments into pretty shells you can hold for a while… until the next wave comes.

You clutched the camera to your chest, curling forward as fresh sobs tore through you. The ache was so deep it felt physical, like someone had carved out the center of your ribs and left the edges jagged. You had come here exhausted from real life. You were leaving even more exhausted — heartsick in a way work deadlines could never make you.

This place had healed nothing. It had only shown you how lonely you truly were.

After a long time, the tears slowed again. You stood up on unsteady legs and finished packing. Every item you folded carried the ghost of his hands — the way he’d tugged your shirt up that last night, the way he’d traced your spine while you lay on his chest. You left the room key on the dresser and wheeled your suitcase out without looking back.

The checkout process at the front desk was a blur. The receptionist smiled warmly, asking if you enjoyed your stay, and you simply nodded, murmuring a polite lie through a tight throat. Within ten minutes, you were loading your luggage into the trunk of your car.

When you climbed into the driver's seat, the residual heat of the afternoon was already building up inside the vehicle. You started the engine, the air conditioning immediately blowing a harsh, cold gust into your face.

You plugged your phone into the dashboard, and before you could even think about it, the music player automatically laughed at you

“Gone with the wind

Trying to get back to you

Fall of the leaves

Trying for something new

Even the days come and they go too soon

Watching the sun waiting for summer blues”

Upon hearing "summer blu" your patience snapped, bursting into tears of despair, you slammed your fist on the steering wheel, cursing the moment you decided to come to this beach

You sobbed heavily, your forehead resting hard against the top of the steering wheel. The leather felt hot against your skin, matching the burning frustration behind your eyelids.

“Why?” you choked out, your voice cracking into the empty, suffocating space of the car. “Why did I have to look at him? Why did I have to care?”

Every promise you had made to yourself on Monday morning—to just make memories, to enjoy a harmless summer fling, to leave what happened on the beach on the beach—felt like a pathetic joke now. You hadn't just made memories. You had let yourself believe the ocean was giving you permission. That the sun warming your skin and the wind tangling your hair were conspiring with you. That a man like Lee Jihoon could appear like a mirage — delicate, glowing, almost unreal — and that the beach would let you keep even a small piece of him.

Your fist trembled against the steering wheel before you violently yanked the cord from your phone.

The music cut off instantly, leaving only the loud, hollow rushing of the air conditioner blasting cold air into your face. The sudden silence in the car was heavy.

You forced yourself to sit up, wiping your wet cheeks roughly with the back of your hand. Your eyes caught your reflection in the rearview mirror—puffy, red, and completely unrecognizable from the excited girl who had arrived two weeks ago.

“Stop it,” you whispered fiercely to yourself, though your chest hitched with another quiet sob. “Just... stop.”

You couldn't stay parked in the hotel lot forever. The receptionist would notice. Passersby would look. And worse, if you stayed here any longer, you’d keep staring at the lobby doors, praying for a miracle that your rational mind knew wasn't coming.

With shaking hands, you shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the space.

Leaving the hotel grounds felt like tearing off a bandage before the wound had even begun to close. You navigated the coastal streets of Gwangalli on autopilot, your eyes intentionally avoiding the turns that led to the hidden diner, the cliff trail, or the small boardwalk bar. But the city didn't care about your broken heart. The traffic moved at its usual pace, the digital billboards blinked with bright advertisements, and the ocean simply kept rolling against the shore behind you.

Once you hit the highway, the long, monotonous stretch of the five-hour drive began.

The drive home was quiet.

You didn’t play the playlist this time. The sea stayed on your right for the first hour, beautiful and indifferent, sparkling under the morning sun like it hadn’t just witnessed your heart being quietly shattered on its shore.

By the time the ocean disappeared from view, replaced by highways and concrete, the tears had dried on your face. All that remained was a dull, hollow throb behind your ribs.

When you finally stepped into your apartment, your cat meowed loudly and wound between your legs. You dropped your suitcase by the door, kicked off your shoes, and slid down the wall until you were sitting on the floor.

The city outside your window hummed with its usual indifference. No waves. No salt air. No blonde-haired boy with a lazy smirk and devastating eyes waiting around the corner.

You pulled out your camera one last time and opened the gallery. This time you didn’t cry. You just stared at his face — that first photo, then the secret ones you’d taken when he wasn’t looking. The wind in his hair on the cliff. His sleepy morning smile on the sand. The way he looked at you when he thought you were focused on the horizon.

You whispered to the empty room, voice barely audible:

“I hope you forget about me faster than I'll ever will, Jihoon.”

Then you turned the camera off, set it gently on the coffee table, and let the heavy silence of your real life settle over you once again.

The vacation was over.

You went back to your routine. Nothing special. You didn't tell anyone about Jihoon and you faked a smile whenever they asked about your vacation.

That trip really made you realize how alone you were in the city. How alone you were going to be in the city. Because you'd never meet someone like him again, you couldn't stop loving him ever.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday passed at a slow and tortuous pace. Each day you came home to cry, knowing you had lost him, that your chance at love had vanished.

Two weeks passed, and you still felt like you were on autopilot. You felt nothing. And you finally decided to force yourself to go on a date with a guy from your company.

The date was awful. He wasn't Jihoon. That's why it was awful.

He was a nice enough guy from marketing—the type who always said good morning in the breakroom and never participated in the worst of the office gossip. But as you sat across from him in a dimly lit pasta place that smelled faintly of burnt garlic, you felt entirely hollow.

He was talking about his weekend plans, something about a golf simulator and a cousin's wedding, but his voice just sounded like background static.

Your eyes kept drifting to his hair—dark, neatly parted, and perfectly styled with gel. It wasn't messy. It wasn't soft. It didn't catch the golden light of a beach sunset, because there were only artificial fluorescent bulbs overhead.

When he laughed at one of his own jokes, you found yourself staring at his lips, entirely unmoved. There was no lazy, teasing smirk. No sharp, delicate jawline that made your breath hitch.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, tilting his head. “You've barely touched your food. Is the pasta not good?”

“Oh, no! It's fine, really,” you blurted out, a little too quickly, forced to summon that exhausting corporate smile you’d been wearing all week. You picked up your fork, twirling a few noodles just to look busy. “I'm just a little tired. Work has been... a lot lately.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Management has been breathing down our necks since the quarter started,” he sighed, eagerly jumping back into a safe topic.

You nodded along, but your heart felt like a lead weight behind your ribs. The contrast was devastating. With Jihoon, a shared silence over a container of fried chicken on the wet sand felt deeper than any conversation you’d ever had. With this guy, the words just filled the empty air, leaving you feeling more isolated than if you were sitting in your apartment alone with your cat.

This date wasn't just bad; it was a cruel confirmation of your nasty reality and future. You were comparing every breathing soul in this city to an angel you met on a private beach, and no one was ever going to measure up.

“Hey, do you want to get a drink somewhere else after this? There’s a cool rooftop bar a few blocks away,” he offered as the waitress cleared the plates.

“Actually,” you murmured, keeping your voice gentle but firm as you reached for your purse, “I think I should just head home. I really don't feel well.”

The disappointment on his face made you feel a little guilty, but the overwhelming urge to escape was too strong. You insisted on splitting the bill, offered a polite goodbye outside the restaurant, and practically fled toward the nearest subway station.

The ride back was suffocating. You were back in the gray routine.

When you finally unlocked your apartment door, the quiet safety of the space welcomed you. Your cat meowed from the couch, stretching lazily before trotting over to greet you. You kicked off your heels, changed into your favorite oversized white t-shirt, and walked into the living room.

Your eyes immediately landed on the coffee table. The digital camera was still sitting exactly where you had left it two weeks ago, a small black plastic tomb for the best days of your life.

You were about to pick it up. But your mind played a trick on you.

“He just used you.”

The thought hit you like a physical blow, freezing your hand a mere inch above the camera.

The words echoed in the silence of your living room, cold and sharp, completely shattering the fragile, romanticized glass house you had built over the past two weeks. The raw, unprotected vulnerability of the thought made your throat tight and your stomach drop into a hollow, sickening pit.

You slowly pulled your hand back, staring at the black plastic casing as if it were a poisonous thing.

Of course he used you. It made perfect sense now, didn't it? He was a beautiful, ethereal guy from the city who was suffocating under the weight of his own life. He came to a secluded beach to escape, and there you were—a naive, starstruck foreigner who practically threw herself at his feet the second she saw him.

You had open-endedly shared everything about your life, your flaws, your lonely existence in Korea, while he had kept his armor perfectly intact, giving you nothing but a name, a beautiful smile, and a handful of devastatingly flirty lines.

He wanted a temporary escape, a mindless, beautiful fantasy where he could play the part of a perfect prince before returning to his real world. And you had given him exactly that. You had bared your soul, let him map every single inch of your body, and completely surrendered your heart, all so he could have a flawless, unburdened summer story.

And the second reality threatened to bleed into his fantasy—the second Thursday turned into Friday—he vanished. No note. No number. No messy goodbyes. Because real life is messy, and Lee Jihoon didn't want messy. He just wanted a vacation.

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped your lips, turning into a shaky, ragged breath. Your cat blinked up at you from the rug, letting out a soft, questioning meow, but you couldn't even bring yourself to reach down and pet him.

The shame of it washed over you in a hot, suffocating wave. You felt incredibly stupid. You had spent the last two weeks crying over a ghost, mourning a "lost love" that had never actually existed outside of your own desperate, lonely imagination. To him, you were probably just a fun, easy memory from a private beach in Gwangalli. A pretty girl who stared too much and gave him exactly what he wanted when he asked for it.

You stood up from the couch, your legs suddenly feeling steady with a dark, burning anger.

You grabbed the digital camera from the coffee table. You didn't turn it on this time. You didn't want to look at his damp blonde bangs, his sleeping morning smile, or that confident, mocking wink under the string lights. You opened the drawer of the entertainment center, shoved the camera all the way into the dark, dusty back corner, and slammed it shut.

“Fucking idiot,” you muttered to the empty room, wiping a single, angry tear from your cheek before it could even trace its way down your face.

You were done on autopilot. You were done mourning him. If the city was going to be lonely, then fine—you would survive it the same way you always had before he crashed into your life. You walked into the kitchen, poured yourself a glass of cold water, and let the numbing, gray reality of your routine lock completely back into place.

Thursday afternoon.

Almost the entire office had gone on vacation by then. You didn't have much to do at the office, other than ask questions and sort out paperwork.

And finally, your quitting time arrived. You gave your office a quick clean and left to clock out.

The humidity of Seoul greeted you as you left the building. There were only two cars in the parking lot, and one of them was yours. You didn't pay much attention to the other.

You got into your car and started it, finally leaving the work parking lot.

Since that trip to the beach, no music had accompanied your days, so the return trip was silent.

What had your life become?

The traffic on the way back to your apartment was thick, the taillights of a hundred other commuter cars bleeding into a monotonous red river under the gloomy Seoul sky. Usually, the silence in the car would have given your mind space to wander, but today, it just felt heavy. It was a suffocating reminder of what you had reverted to: a ghost navigating a concrete maze, moving from a desk to a steering wheel, and eventually to an empty apartment.

You didn't think about Gwangalli. You forced yourself not to. Every time a stray thought of blonde hair or the smell of sea salt threatened to crack your composure, you locked it away behind that dark wall of anger you’d built.

By the time you pulled into your apartment’s underground parking garage, your shoulders were stiff with tension. You killed the engine, the sudden absence of the car's mechanical hum making the silence even more profound.

“Just another Thursday,” you muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly for a second before grabbing your purse and getting out.

The elevator ride up to your floor was just as lonely as it always was. When you finally unlocked your front door, the familiar, comforting sound of a high-pitched meow greeted you before the door had even swung fully open. Your cat was already waiting on the entryway rug, tail flicking happily as he wrapped himself around your ankles.

“Hey, buddy,” you murmured, dropping your bag onto the floor and finally letting your posture slump. You knelt down, burying your face in his soft fur, letting his loud, rhythmic purring steady the uneasy trembling in your chest. At least his affection wasn't a temporary fantasy. He was real. He was always here.

After a few minutes of quiet comfort, you stood up, kicked off your flats, and walked straight into the bedroom to change out of your stiff office clothes. You pulled on a soft, oversized black t-shirt and walked into the living room, intending to just curl up on the couch and watch whatever mind-numbing show could keep your thoughts occupied until bedtime.

As you sat down, your eyes involuntarily drifted to the entertainment center across the room.

The drawer was completely flush against the dark wood. The digital camera was still buried in the back, gathering dust in the dark where it belonged. You felt a sharp, bitter twinge of satisfaction at the sight. You hadn't touched it once since you placed it here. You were winning. You were taking your life back.

To prove it to yourself, you grabbed your phone from your purse to order some takeout, completely determined to have a normal, quiet evening.

Ten minutes later the doorbell rang. You thought, “Wow, that's efficient.”

You set your phone down on the coffee table, a faint crease forming between your brows. Ten minutes? Even for the lightning-fast delivery standards of Seoul, that was impossibly quick. You hadn't even received the usual KakaoTalk notification saying your food was on its way.

Your cat’s ears immediately perked up. He broke away from his casual grooming routine, his body tensing as his eyes locked onto the front door.

“Stay here, buddy,” you murmured, pushing yourself off the couch. The cool hardwood floor pressed against your bare feet as you walked toward the entryway.

With every step, a strange, prickling sensation grew at the base of your neck. It was probably just the delivery driver who happened to be right around the corner, or maybe a neighbor misjudging their own door. Yet, the heavy silence of the apartment magnified the sound of your own breathing.

You stopped in front of the door and opened it. And there he was. His face was red, his hair was disheveled, he was breathing as if he had run a marathon.

“The fuck…” you muttered, Before you could try to slam the door in Jihoon's face, he put his foot in the way and stopped you.

The sharp, metallic thud of the door colliding with his heavy sneaker rattled through your arm. The force of it vibrated straight to your chest, sending a jolt of pure adrenaline through your veins.

“Get your fucking foot out of my door, Jihoon,” you hissed, your voice dropping an octave, razor-sharp and trembling with a volatile mix of shock and rage. You leaned your weight into the door, desperate to force it shut, to lock him back out in the hallway where he couldn't mess with your head anymore.

But he didn't budge. He winced, a flicker of pain crossing his features as the heavy wood pressed against his shoe, but his posture remained stubbornly anchored, and pushed back, you stumbled back and he got in.

“Just—wait. Please,” Jihoon gasped out.

He looked a complete mess. The polished, effortless charm he usually wore like a second skin was entirely stripped away. Strands of damp, disheveled blonde hair clung to his forehead, and his chest rose and fell in ragged, desperate heaves. A bead of sweat rolled down his flushed jawline.

“I'm not doing this,” you said, you placed your hand on the door's handle, your grip tightening on it until your knuckles turned white. “I'm not doing this with you. Go back to Gwangalli. Or wherever the fuck you're from!”

“I drove,” he panted, his eyes locking onto yours through the narrow gap in the door. They were bloodshot, wide, and absolutely frantic. “The other car in your office lot. It was mine. I've been... I've been waiting for you to leave all afternoon because I didn't know how to face you at your desk. I didn't want to cause a scene. I, I didn't know what to say, what to do, I. I'm sorry, I've been following you for the past few days, and, I can't do this anymore. Please hear me out.”

Your heart did a sickening freefall. The second car. The one you hadn't paid any attention to in the humid haze of your exhaustion. He had been there.

“I don't give a shit about whatever you want to say,” you lied, the dark wall of anger you had built over the last week threatening to crumble under the sheer intensity of his gaze. “Get out of my doorway before I call the security desk.”

“Call them,”

he said, his voice cracking slightly, though his foot didn't move an inch. “Let them drag me out. But I'm not leaving until you hear me. I haven't slept in a week. I couldn't just let it end like that. Not after Friday.”

“You made your choice on Friday!” you yelled, the sudden volume of your own voice startling your cat, who bolted deeper into the apartment.

The raw pain you'd been suffocating for seven days finally burst through your composure.

“You left me alone, you used me for your own pleasure! You don't get to run away and then just show up at my apartment expecting me to open the door!”

“I didn't run away from you,” Jihoon said, his voice dropping into a desperate, raw whisper that cut straight through your anger, His breathing finally starting to slow but his eyes reflecting a deep, agonizing panic. “I ran because I was terrified of how much I wanted to stay. I, I thought you wanted this, I thought, I thought you wanted it to be a fling, a beach fling. I could see it in your eyes, I could feel it these last few days. But no! I can't! I can't live without you.” he started walking towards you.

“My name is Lee Jihoon, I’m 29 years old, I'll be turning 30 this November, I'm from Suyeong-gu, Busan. I'm a producer, I work here in Seoul. ” As he began to get closer to you, you could feel his desperation. “I live twenty minutes away from here, in Mapo,” he continued, his voice cracking, entirely raw. He wasn't yelling anymore; he was pleading, his bloodshot eyes locked onto yours with a terrifying, unfiltered intensity.

“My parents still live down south.I don't have any pets, because I'm used to be alone. I—I don't know your favorite color. I don't know what kind of food you like when you're stressed, or what kind of music you usually listen to in your car when I'm not there to ruin the silence.”

He stopped just inches away from you. He was so close you could see the faint tremor in his jaw, the way his eyelashes fluttered against his flushed cheeks as he took a ragged breath.

“I didn't use you,” he whispered, his hands hovering in the air between you, trembling, as if he desperately wanted to reach out and grab you but was terrified that touching you would make you vanish completely. “God, I didn't use you.”

The sudden barrage of facts hit you like a physical blow.

He was throwing his reality at you, stripping away every ounce of the enigmatic, untouchable persona he had maintained at the beach. He wasn't just Jihoon from Gwangalli anymore. He was giving you the very things you had both silently agreed to leave out in the sun. He was shattering the rules of the fantasy, forcing his way into your real world because he couldn't stand being a ghost in yours.

“Stop,” you choked out. You held up a trembling hand, palm out, a futile shield against the sheer velocity of his desperation. “Jihoon, just stop.”

He stopped just inches from your extended hand, his chest heaving, the heat radiating off his body cutting right through the air-conditioned chill of your apartment. “I hate the traffic here. I hate the rain. I missed Busan every single day until I met you on that beach, and now... now I don't care where I am as long as you're in the room.”

“Don't do this,” you whispered, your vision blurring with hot, angry tears that you fiercely tried to blink away. The wall of anger you had spent a week cementing was completely disintegrating, leaving behind nothing but the raw, bleeding ache of Friday night. “Don't come into my home and say things like that. You left. You got up and you left me in that bed.”

“Because I thought it was what you wanted!” Jihoon cried out, the defense breaking from his lips like a sob.

He closed the remaining distance, his hands hovering near your face, trembling, desperately wanting to touch you but too terrified of your anger to make contact. “You kept talking about going back to your 'real life.' You kept looking at me like I was a temporary escape. I thought if I stayed until morning, if I begged you to stay, I’d see the regret in your eyes. I couldn't handle seeing you look at me like a mistake. So I ran first. It was stupid, it was cowardly, and I have been in absolute hell ever since.”

He dropped his head, “I've been parked outside your office for three days,” he whispered into the space between you, his voice utterly defeated. “Just watching you walk to your car, looking so tired, looking the way I felt. I didn't want to cause a scene. I didn't want to ruin your 'real life.' But I can't do a beach fling. Not with you. I need you in the winter, too. I need the real you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, filled only by the ragged sound of his breathing and the frantic, erratic thumping of your own heart. He was completely bare before you, his pride entirely gone, offering up his real name, his real life, and his heart on a silver platter.

Now, looking at the raw panic in his bloodshot eyes, you realized you hadn't even begun to fight.

“I hate you. I hate you so fucking much Lee jihoon” You walked a few steps to the front door and slammed it shut. Jihoon looked at you, confused. Then you pinned him against the wall. And kissed him.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle or forgiving.It was teeth and heat and days of rage finally breaking open.

You slammed your body into his, pinning him harder against the wall with every ounce of frustration you’d carried since that empty morning in Gwangalli.

Jihoon let out a broken sound into your mouth as his hands finally, finally grabbed you. One palm splayed across your lower back, dragging you flush against him; the other tangled roughly in your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted.You bit his bottom lip hard enough to make him hiss. “I still hate you,” you gasped against his mouth, even as your fingers curled into his shirt, yanking him closer.

“Good,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Hate me all you want. Just don’t stop. Take it out on me.”

He didn't need to say it twice. Before you grabbed a handful of his hair and led him to your room, where you threw him onto your mattress. And left him there for a moment, searching in your closet and drawer for some scarves you used, and a dildo.

“Strip” You ordered.

Without a word he sat up on your bed and yanked his shirt over his head, revealing the lean, toned torso you remembered too well. His jeans and boxers followed in a frantic heap on your floor. He was already hard, breathing through his mouth as he watched you.

You climbed onto the bed. “On your stomach. Legs together.”

He obeyed, rolling over and pressing his chest into your mattress. You worked quickly, wrapping the scarves tightly around his upper thighs, just below the swell of his ass, knotting them securely so his legs were forced together. He tested the binding once and let out a shaky exhale.

You shoved a pillow under his hips, forcing his ass up. The position left him exposed, vulnerable, and completely at your mercy. His skin was already flushing. You ran your hands over the backs of his thighs and the firm curves of his ass, feeling the heat and the faint tremble in his muscles.

Your palms were sliding over his skin, squeezing, kneading the flesh hard enough that your fingers left temporary marks. You dug in, spreading his cheeks apart and pressing them back together, letting the bound thighs stay squeezed tight. His breathing hitched every time you gripped harder.

Your right hand came down in a sharp, resounding slap against his right cheek. Jihoon jerked and groaned into your sheets. You didn’t stop. You spanked him again, and again—firm, deliberate smacks that made his ass jiggle and bloom pink under your palm. Between strikes you rubbed and groped, spreading him open, dragging your nails lightly down the sensitive skin.

You reached for the dildo you’d pulled from the drawer; clear, thick, with a flared base. You poured lube over it generously, letting the excess drip down between his bound thighs and over his hole.

Jihoon’s hips twitched.

You pressed the blunt head of the toy against him, rubbing it up and down over his entrance and along the sensitive skin between his thighs. You teased the tight ring of muscle, pushing just the tip in and pulling it back out, while your other hand kept a bruising grip on his left ass cheek, spreading him for better access.

“Fuck—” he gasped, voice wrecked.

You pushed the dildo deeper, slow and steady, watching his bound legs strain against the scarves as his body tried to adjust. Once it was seated, you left it there for a moment and returned to your hands—spanking him harder now, the impact landing right next to the toy, making it shift inside him with every strike. You alternated between rough slaps, deep kneading, and slow, filthy thrusts of the dildo, rocking it in and out while keeping his thighs pressed together.

Jihoon’s broken moans were muffled by your pillow. His back arched as much as the position allowed. Sweat glistened on his spine.

You leaned over him, chest pressed to his back, and bit the shell of his ear.

“You’re going to take this tonight,” you told him, voice steady even though your hands were shaking with adrenaline. “And you’re going to apologize with every sound you make.”

Jihoon’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, a broken “Please…” slipping out before he could stop it.

He gasped and cursed and begged while you were thrusting onto him.“I’m sorry—shit— I’m so fucking sorry— I never should’ve left you— ah— please—”You leaned over him, still moving the toy steadily, and bit down on his collarbone.“Say it again.” “I’m sorry,” he choked out, voice cracking. “I was scared. I wanted you too much. I still want you too much— fuck, right there—”You kept him right on the edge for what felt like forever, fucking him with the dildo, kissing and biting every inch of skin you could reach.

Only when his thighs were shaking and tears of overwhelming pleasure were gathering in the corners of his eyes. You pulled the dildo out slowly, watching the way his stretched hole fluttered around the sudden emptiness. Jihoon let out a wrecked whine, hips twitching uselessly against the pillow, thighs straining hard against the silk scarves.

Before he could catch his breath, you spread his cheeks wide with both hands and buried your face between them.

The first slow, filthy lick over his hole made his whole body jerk. A guttural moan tore out of him, muffled by your pillow. You didn’t hold back — you licked and sucked and fucked your tongue into him like you were still punishing him, still pouring every ounce of that week-long hurt into the way you devoured him.

“Fuck— oh my god—” Jihoon’s voice cracked, raw and desperate. His bound legs shook violently as you worked him open with your mouth, alternating between deep thrusts of your tongue and broad, wet strokes that made obscene sounds in the quiet room. You could feel the heat of his freshly spanked skin against your cheeks, the way his hole clenched and relaxed every time you pushed inside him.

You reached underneath and wrapped your hand around his aching cock, stroking him in time with your tongue. He was leaking everywhere, the pillow and sheets already damp beneath him.

“I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry— I’ll never leave you again, never—” The words spilled out of him between broken moans, each one tighter and higher than the last. “Use me— please— I deserve it— I deserve everything you give me—”

You hummed against him, the vibration pulling another sob-like moan from his throat. His back arched as much as the restraints allowed, pushing back against your face like he couldn’t get enough. You ate him out until his thighs were trembling uncontrollably and his cock was throbbing in your fist, right on the razor’s edge.

Only then did you pull back and untied him.

You flipped him over with a firm shove to his shoulder. Jihoon rolled onto his back, chest heaving, his cock flushed dark and leaking steadily against his stomach. His eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide with lust and something deeper—relief, maybe, or surrender. The pink flush from your earlier spanking still bloomed across his skin, visible even on his thighs where the scarves had dug in. He looked wrecked already. Good.

“Don’t you dare come,” you said as you straddled his waist. Your oversized t-shirt rode up your thighs, and you yanked it off in one motion, tossing it aside, then your panties.

The cool air hit your bare skin, but the heat radiating from his body more than made up for it.

You settled over him, your soaked pussy sliding along the length of his cock without letting him inside. Just grinding, slow and deliberate, coating him in your arousal while your hands pinned his wrists to the mattress above his head.

Jihoon’s hips jerked up instinctively, seeking friction, but you lifted yourself just enough to deny him.

“Fuck—please—” he groaned, head tipping back into your sheets. His throat worked as he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll say it as many times as you want.”

You leaned down, biting the side of his neck hard enough to leave a mark. “You’ll say it while I use you.” You rocked your hips again, letting the head of his cock catch against your entrance before sliding past it, teasing. “And you still don’t get to come until I say so.”

You reached between your bodies, wrapped your hand around his throbbing length, and stroked him once, twice—firm, twisting pulls—before lining him up and sinking down in one smooth, relentless motion.

The stretch pulled a sharp moan from both of you. He was thick, hot, and perfect inside you, filling the aching emptiness you’d carried for a week. Jihoon’s eyes rolled back, a broken whimper escaping his lips as your walls clenched around him.

“Shit— you feel—” His voice cracked. He tried to thrust up, but you planted your palms on his chest and pinned him down harder, starting a slow, punishing rhythm instead. You rode him like you were still angry, hips snapping down with force, grinding your clit against his pelvis on every downward stroke.

“Look at me,” you demanded.

His bloodshot eyes met yours, hazy and desperate. Every time you sank onto him, a fresh apology tumbled from his lips between gasps.

“I’m sorry— fuck— I never should’ve left— ahh— you in that bed— I was scared— I wanted you too much—”

You clenched around him deliberately, making him choke on the next words. Your nails dragged down his chest, leaving faint red lines. You leaned forward, changing the angle so he hit that perfect spot inside you with every roll of your hips.

“Say it again,” you breathed against his mouth, biting his lower lip. “Tell me why you ran.”

“Because I’m a coward,” he gasped, voice raw. “Because I thought losing you later would hurt worse than leaving then. I was wrong— so fucking wrong— please, let me stay— let me make it right—”

You sat up straighter, bracing your hands on his thighs behind you, and rode him harder. The wet, obscene sound of your bodies meeting filled the room. His hands stayed obediently above his head even though you’d released his wrists, fingers twisted into your sheets like he was physically holding himself back from touching you without permission.

His cock throbbed inside you, dangerously close. You could feel him fighting it, muscles taut and trembling beneath you.

“Don’t you fucking come,” you warned again, slowing your pace to a torturous grind. You reached back and cupped his balls, squeezing just enough to make him hiss. “Not until I’ve had mine. You owe me at least that.”

Jihoon nodded frantically, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes now. “Yes— yours— everything’s yours— please use me— I deserve it—”

You rode him until the pressure inside you coiled unbearably tight. When you finally shattered, it hit you like a wave—your thighs clamping around his hips, walls pulsing around his cock as you came hard with a broken cry. You kept moving through it, drawing it out, grinding down on him until the pleasure edged into overstimulation.

Only then did you lean down, grab a fistful of his damp blonde hair, and growl against his ear:

“Come. Fill me up. Show me how sorry you are.”

Jihoon’s control snapped instantly. He surged up, arms wrapping around you like he’d been dying to do it, and thrust into you with desperate, erratic strokes. Two, three, four brutal snaps of his hips and he came with a wrecked sob, burying himself deep as he pulsed inside you, flooding you with heat.

You stayed like that for a long moment—bodies locked together, both of you shaking, breathing ragged. His face was pressed into your neck, lips moving silently against your skin in what felt like more apologies.

Eventually you pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, but clearer now. The panic had drained away, replaced by something softer and infinitely more dangerous.

You brushed damp hair off his forehead.

“I still hate you a little,” you whispered.

Jihoon gave you a small, exhausted smile, voice hoarse. “Good. Hate me as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere. I really need you in my life”

You kissed him again—slower this time, less teeth, more exhaustion and relief—then collapsed beside him, pulling him into your arms. His head rested on your chest, one leg thrown over yours possessively despite how spent he was.

Your cat meowed somewhere in the hallway, clearly annoyed at being banished from the bedroom.

“Have you thought about my proposal?” Woozi asked, leaning forward with that familiar mix of persistence and confidence. He was the only person in the company who could speak to Cheolin this casually.

Cheolin raised an eyebrow, swirling the black coffee in his cup. “Ah… I don’t know. Isn’t it too risky? We’re an agency that doesn’t represent young people. Managing a young, female solo artist… I’m not entirely convinced.”

Woozi let out a short laugh, tapping the portfolio on the table. “You say that every time I bring something new to the table. Come on, hyung. The industry is shifting. If we don’t adapt, we’ll become irrelevant. I already have a name, she has something fresh. Real talent. Her voice is unique, really unique, and her stage presence—” He kissed his fingers dramatically. “Chef’s kiss.”

Cheolin flipped open the folder again, keeping his expression neutral. The headshot stared back at him. Those wide, bright eyes. That faint, almost shy smile that didn’t match the body in the training photos. He closed it after only a few seconds.

“She’s twenty-two,” he said flatly.Woozi tilted his head.

“And? We’ve handled rookies before.”“Not female. Not this young. Our brand is maturity, experience, reliability. If we debut her and she crashes, the press will tear us apart. ‘Desperate agency chasing trends,’ ‘Exploiting a young girl,’ all that noise.”

Cheolin leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “We don’t need that kind of risk right now.”Woozi studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly in that perceptive way that always made Cheolin feel exposed. They had been friends for nearly twenty years—Woozi was one of the few people who could push back without fear.

“That’s why you should oversee her personally. You’ve built this company from nothing. No one has better instincts than you. Besides…” He leaned in, lowering his voice like they were sharing a secret, even though they were alone. “You really need to get Chunsunie outta your head.”

Cheolin exhaled slowly through his nose and set his cup down with a soft click. “Even if I was… interested, which I’m not saying I am, it would be completely inappropriate. She’s half my age, Woozi. I’m her potential CEO, not some dirty old man looking for a toy.”

Woozi let out a dry laugh. “You’re not a dirty old man. You’re a 52-year-old man who’s been punishing himself for a failed engagement that was never going to work anyway. She's is young, yes. But she’s also an adult.”

Cheolin rubbed his temple, feeling the weight of every year. “You’re really pushing this.”“Because I care about both the company and you, you stubborn bastard.” Woozi slid the full training evaluation across the table. “Look at the numbers again. Vocal range is excellent. Dance ability is top tier. Work ethic is off the charts. She’s polite, quick to learn,”

Cheolin stared at the closed portfolio but didn’t open it this time. His thumb pressed hard against the edge of the folder.Woozi softened his tone. “Oversee her yourself. Not as some creepy mentor fantasy — as the best CEO in the industry. Guide her career properly. And if something… happens between you two later, well… that’s between two consenting adults. Just don’t let fear and that old Chunsunie wound make you miss out on something good for the company. Or for you.”

Cheolin stayed quiet for a long moment, eyes distant. Finally, he spoke, almost to himself.“…Set up a private showcase. Tomorrow night. Studio 3.”Woozi’s face broke into a satisfied grin. “Already done. 9 PM.”Cheolin shot him a sharp glare. “You were that sure?”“I know you better than you know yourself sometimes.”

Woozi stood up and gathered his things. “Try not to intimidate her too much. And hyung?”“What?”Woozi paused at the door, smirking. “Try smiling once in a while. You might scare the poor girl off looking like you want to eat her alive and fire her at the same time.”“Get out of my office,” Cheolin muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.Once the door closed, Cheolin leaned back in his chair and opened the portfolio again. Her headshot smiled up at him innocently.He let out a long, tired breath and muttered under his breath:“What the hell am I doing…”

The next evening, Studio 3 was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional creak of chairs.

Pi Cheolin arrived early, ten minutes before nine, because punctuality was habit and because he didn’t want to give the impression that he was making any special effort. He’d changed into a plain black button-down and dark jeans—nothing flashy as usual. Woozi was already there, leaning against the console with his arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

At exactly 9:02, the door opened and you stepped in.“CEO-nim. Thank you for making time,” you said, voice clear but not overly bright. “I’ll do my best.”

He gave a single nod. “No need for a full production. Just sing what you prepared. Two songs, then we’ll talk.”You didn’t smile nervously or chatter. You simply said, “Understood,” and moved into the recording space.

When you finished, the last note faded into the dead air of the studio. You lowered the mic slightly and waited.Woozi glanced sideways at Cheolin, eyebrows raised in a silent "well" Cheolin stood up and walked into the live room.

The door clicked shut behind him. Up close, he could see the faint sheen of sweat at your hairline and the way you were forcing your breathing to stay even.“Not bad,” he said. His voice was lower, calmer than you  expected. “Sit.”You took the chair across from him. Cheolin remained standing for a moment, hands in his pockets, then lowered himself into the seat. “I’m not going to lie to you,” he continued. “Our agency doesn’t usually take on soloists your age. Our roster is older, more established. The optics of signing someone young and female right now are… complicated.”You nodded once, listening.“But talent is talent,” he added. “And you have it. The question is whether you have the discipline to survive the way we work here. No shortcuts. No social media stunts. No scandals. If you debut under us, you’ll be carrying the weight of every headline that says we’re chasing trends.”He paused, watching your reaction.

You didn’t rush to reassure him. Instead you said, “I didn’t come here looking for easy. I came because I want to be good. Really good. And I think your company knows how to build that without burning people out.”Cheolin leaned back slightly, arms resting on the chair.

“You’ve done your research.”“I have.”Another beat of quiet.“I’ll think about it,” he said finally. “We’ll run a few more sessions. Vocal analysis, dance evaluation under fatigue, media training basics. If you’re still standing after that, we’ll talk contracts.”He stood up. You rose with him.As you turned to gather your things, Cheolin spoke again, quieter this time.

“And kid—stop calling me CEO-nim in private if we end up working together. It makes me feel older than I already am.”You glanced back, a small, genuine half-smile breaking through for the first time.“Noted… Cheolin-ssi.”He didn’t correct you. Just gave a short nod and watched you leave the studio.

Woozi appeared beside him a moment later, hands in his pockets, smug as hell.“Still think it’s too risky, hyung?”Cheolin exhaled through his nose and rubbed the back of his neck.“Shut up.” “Haha, told yaaa!” Cheolin scoffed “Don't make me regret this Jihoon-ah”

“You know, I remember when you joined that company and you were telling me about him, you said he was charismatic, flashy, etc... He wasn't any of that crap.Why did you lie to me like that? I almost shit myself when I saw the look you he was giving me.” Jihoon laughed at your confession, then served you both another shot of soju.

“That man used to be like that, I swear, but people change. Cheolin went through a difficult divorce. The woman he married had been his girlfriend since he lived in Sebong-ri. It was a very dark time for him, and I suppose it still is. He hasn't dated anyone, and he hasn't stopped wearing black since his marriage ended. And do you know how long they lasted? Half a year.” Your eyes widened, and you let out a low whistle, “Wow, no wonder.”

You took the shot Jihoon poured, the soju burning a clean line down your throat. The small table in the quiet pojangmacha was sticky with condensation rings, and the late-night humidity clung to your skin. You set the empty glass down with a soft clack.

You leaned your chin on your hand, staring at the flickering neon sign outside. “He still agreed to the extra sessions, though. I thought for sure he’d say no.”

“Because he’s not stupid,” Jihoon said, pointing a piece of squid at you. “Your voice is special. That lower register you hit in the bridge? Not many girls your age can do that without sounding forced. It's great that you worked with me before the audition; you have the best coach by your side.”

You felt a small flutter in your stomach that had nothing to do with the soju. You pushed it down immediately. And just laughed, drinking another shot.

The next two weeks blurred into a punishing but exhilarating rhythm that pushed you to your limits and beyond.

Mornings were dedicated to vocal training under Producer Woo—none other than Woozi himself. The same easygoing friend who had laughed with you over soju became an entirely different person behind the studio glass. He turned into an "asshole", brutally precise, he tore apart every note, every breath, every emotional choice you made. “Again,” he would say flatly, even after you’d already run the section ten times. Your throat grew raw, your patience thinner, and there were moments you genuinely hated him, friend or not. Yet no matter how much you wanted to kill him, you couldn’t deny the results. Under his strict guidance, your voice was sharpening into something cleaner.

Afternoons belonged to dance evaluations with Hoshi —a self-proclaimed Tiger of the company— This man was a force of nature,explosive and seemingly tireless. While your legs trembled and sweat poured down your back after endless repetitions, Hoshi moved like he had unlimited energy, never once showing fatigue. “Come on! You think the audience will feel sorry for you?” he’d yell, clapping his hands sharply to keep the rhythm. He demanded perfection in every angle, every snap of the wrist, every foot placement, pushing you through choreography even when your muscles screamed for mercy. His stamina was almost inhuman, and he expected the same from you. By the end of each session, you were drenched, sore, and barely standing—yet strangely addicted to the fire he lit in you.

Evenings were reserved for the quiet intensity of media training with Jun. The Chinese trainer had an elegant composure that made him look like he belonged on a fashion runway rather than in a practice room. Unlike Hoshi’s loud energy or Woozi’s cutting directness, Jun’s style was calm, measured, and deeply intimidating.

He studied every micro-expression with surgical precision. A slight frown, an overly eager smile, a nervous shift of your gaze—nothing slipped past him. “You'd get canceled for this,” he would note softly, marking it down before launching into another long, deliberately exhausting mock interview. The sessions were mentally draining, filled with repetitive scenarios designed to test your patience and composure under pressure. “The camera sees everything,” he often reminded you. “Master boredom. Master fatigue. Or the public will master you.”

By the time you finally crawled into bed each night, every muscle ached, your mind felt fried, and your voice was hoarse. But beneath the exhaustion, you could feel yourself transforming—growing tougher, more refined, and more confident with each brutal day.

One Thursday night. The clock had already passed 11 PM. You’d run the same song four times under increasingly difficult conditions—after fifty push-ups, after holding a plank for three minutes, after learning brand-new choreography on the spot. Your shirt clung to your back, and strands of hair stuck to your neck.

Cheolin stood in the live room this time, leaning against the wall with his sleeves rolled up. The top two buttons of his black shirt were undone from the heat. For once, he wasn’t wearing a jacket.

“Again,” he said quietly.You caught your breath. “With the new ad-lib at the end?”

He gave a single nod.

You closed your eyes, found the emotion you’d been digging for all night, and sang. When you finished Cheolin didn’t speak right away. He walked over, picked up a clean towel from the stack, and handed it to you without a word. His fingers brushed yours for half a second.

“You’re improving,” he said. His voice was low. “But you’re still holding back in the chorus. Like you’re afraid of taking up too much space.”

You wiped your face, heart still hammering. “I don’t want to come across as… too much. Especially here.”

He studied you for a long moment. The studio lights cast sharp shadows under his cheekbones, making him look both exhausted and unfairly handsome.

“This industry will try to make you smaller in a hundred different ways,” he finally said. “My job is to make sure that doesn’t happen. Not while you’re under my roof.” He paused. “If you sign with us.”

Your pulse spiked. “Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying we’ll draw up the contract next week. But understand this—” His eyes locked onto yours, dark and serious. “I’m not an easy boss by any means, yes, We're not such a strict company, but that doesn't mean I don't strive for perfection in my artists. I really expect perfection. I expect loyalty. And I expect you to tell me when I’m being an unreasonable bastard, because I will be sometimes.”

A small, tired smile tugged at your lips. “Noted...”

He cleared his throat and stepped back. “Go home. Get some rest. And stop letting Jihoon drag you out for soju on weeknights. I can smell it on you.”

Your eyes widened. “I- We only had l-like two or three shots-”“I know my friend,” he muttered, already turning toward the door.

You watched him leave, the door clicking shut with finality. Only then did you let out the breath you’d been holding.

The contract signing was scheduled for a quiet Tuesday morning, nothing ceremonial. No press, just you, Pi Cheolin, Woozi, and a single lawyer who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

You arrived five minutes early. Cheolin was already at the head of the long conference table, reading through the final draft even though he’d probably memorized it.

He glanced up when you entered, gave a short nod, and gestured to the seat across from him.“Morning,” he greeted you. “Morning… Cheolin-ssi.”

Woozi, leaning against the windowsill with a coffee, smirked but wisely kept his mouth shut.The lawyer slid the papers over. Ten pages of carefully worded clauses. You’d read the draft twice the night before, but seeing it now, with your name typed at the bottom, still felt surreal.

Cheolin watched you as you scanned the final version.“Any last questions?” he asked.You hesitated, then met his eyes. “Just one. The clause about personal relationships… it says I have to disclose anything that could affect the company image. Does that include… dating?”

Woozi suddenly found the view outside very interesting.

“It does. But I’m not asking you to live like a nun. Just don’t be stupid about it. No trainees, no competitors, no married men, and definitely no posting blurry couple photos on Instagram. If it gets serious, you tell me first. I’d rather manage the narrative than clean up a scandal.”His tone was purely professional.

You signed.He signed after you. When he slid the copy back to you.

“Congratulations,” he said. “Welcome to my roster. Try not to make me regret it.”The corner of your mouth lifted. “I’ll do my best, boss.”Woozi clapped once. “Finally. Now the real work begins.”

Several months had passed since the signing of the contract, you already had a debut album on the way, a concept, an image, and you had been teased to the public.

You were in the company gym, it was around 11 pm and you had just finished your daily workout. To end the day, you decided to work out instead of jogging.

You decided to do one last set of squads, you had your headphones on at full volume, so you didn't realize that someone was watching you.

“pervert.” Pi Cheolin almost had a heart attack when he heard his friend's voice behind him. “Fuck you! I'm not a pervert” He straightened up and turned to face him. “Yeah, right, and the sky is green. You son of a bitch, Lee chan.” Cheolin gulped at the use of his full government name. Woozi laughed at him and shoved a paper in his face. Cheolin raised an eyebrow and read out loud the content written on the paper. “Immediate change of vocal coach-” He immediately tried to "clear his throat" “Oh my god, how could this have happened, hahaha”Cheolin let out the most fake laugh he could master.

Woozi doubled over laughing, clutching the paper like it was the funniest contract clause he’d ever written. “Immediate change of vocal coach due to… personal conflict of interest? Riiiight, Could this little "personal conflict" be due to you wanting to be glued to her ass?” Cheolin's eyes widened and he shook his head “The fuck you talking about!? Stop saying nonsense!” “Hyung, you’re not even subtle anymore. You’ve been staring at her ass for the last ten minutes.”

Cheolin snatched the paper, scanning it quickly before crumpling it in his fist. “You’re enjoying this way too much. I was checking her form. Posture. That’s part of evaluation.”

“Yeah? And the way your eyes were glued to her when she dropped into that squat was purely professional assessment, right? I am having a true blast watching this happen before my eyes!” Woozi wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still grinning like a shit-eating fox. “Lee Chan-ah. Lee. Chan. You’re down bad.”

Cheolin shot him a murderous glare but couldn’t quite deny it fast enough. Woozi snorted when Cheolin looked back, and saw you make another squat “ Oh! Oh! Just look at that!” Cheolin's head snapped back at him, “Oh my god, your jaw was literally slack. I thought you were about to start drooling.” Cheolin exhaled sharply through his nose, a rare crack in his usual composure. He turned fully away from the gym door this time, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not… I’m not—” He stopped, because they both knew whatever excuse he was about to give was bullshit. “Look. You’ve been wound tighter than a femboy twink since she signed, you need to loose that hole of yours. Either do something about it or stop staring before she notices and thinks her CEO is a creep.”

“I’m not going to "do something,"” Cheolin said quietly, dangerously. “She’s twenty-two. I’m her boss. End of discussion.”

“Consenting adults,” Woozi coughed Conveniently, reminding him, echoing their earlier conversation.

Woozi’s voice dropped, the teasing fading into something more serious. “She's a consenting adult, twenty-two, not eighteen, not nineteen, twenty-two, under contract, and looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars when you give her the smallest crumb of praise.”

Cheolin exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know. Fuck, I know.” His voice was rough. “That’s why I’m trying to stay away. You know, I think she sees me more as a kind of "father figure." Besides that, I'm not going to risk my career over a scandal— just imagine the headlines!”

Woozi let out a low, disbelieving chuckle.“Father figure?” He repeated the words like they tasted ridiculous. “Hyung, are you fucking blind? That girl doesn’t look at you like you’re her dad. She looks at you like she wants you to bend her over the mixing board and ruin her vocal cords for an entirely different reason.”

Cheolin’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Watch your mouth.”“No, you watch yours. Or better yet—watch hers when she says your name. ‘Cheolin-ssi~” Woozi imitated your voice in a breathy, exaggerated way that made Cheolin’s ears turn red. “She’s not calling you that because she wants paternal advice. She’s calling you that because she’s trying to be respectful while probably wanting you to rile her against the console.”Cheolin turned away sharply, “You’re disgusting.”

“Oh my god, are you getting hard!?” Jihoon burst out laughing, "So old men like you still get boners?” He kept on laughing his ass off.

You pulled your headphones down around your neck, breathing hard, and reached for your water bottle. That’s when you noticed the two men outside the gym, trough the slight crack of the open door. Woozi was laughing like an idiot. Pi Cheolin looked… tense.

You wiped your face with a towel and walked over, pushing open the door.

“Everyting alright?” you asked, a tired but playful lilt in your voice. “Should I be worried Jihoon is laughing so damn hard?” Woozi immediately made himself scarce. “Oh would you look at the time. I have… things. Important producer things. Bye.” He practically sprinted out.

Then he exhaled through his nose and looked away toward the rain-streaked window.“Go home,” he said, voice rougher now. “Before I start sounding like a bitter old man giving unwanted advice.”

You smiled faintly,“Cheolin-ssi.”He looked at you.“For what it’s worth… I like the man you are now. Even when you’re scary.”

You slipped out before he could respond, heart beating faster than it had any right to.Behind you, in the empty hallway, Pi Cheolin stood still for a long moment, a tired hand rubbing over his face as he muttered to the quiet room

“…This is going to be trouble.”

Cheolin stood motionless in the hallway long after the door clicked shut behind you. He let out a slow, controlled breath and pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose.

“Trouble,” he repeated under his breath. “That’s the fucking understatement of the decade.”

His body was still betraying him. The image of you in those tight leggings, thighs flexing with every squat, the way your tank top had ridden up… He cursed quietly and adjusted himself, irritated at how easily his body reacted these days. At fifty-two, he thought that kind of mindless hunger belonged in the past. Apparently not.

You were warming up your voice in the dedicated room, waiting for Woozi to walk through the door.

What a surprise it was to see none other than Pi Cheolin

Pi Cheolin stood in the doorway, one hand still on the handle like he was debating whether to step fully inside or retreat. He was dressed in his usual black—button-down sleeves rolled to his forearms, the top button undone, and he was wearing... A hat, and some sunglasses... Who wears sunglasses indoors!?You thought to yourself.

“I'm gonna be your new vocal coach, keep warming up, you're doing a cover of my hit song” “God of light music?” “Mhm”

You continued your warm-up, and about 10 minutes later, they finally moved on to rehearsing the song. Your voice wasn't like Seokmin's, and you struggled to reach his notes, which was starting to frustrate Cheolin.

“Again, "Stop singing with your throat for God's sake! You have to sing with your diaphragm, damn it!" Her expression looked like his anger was hanging by a thread.

You tried again, your voice broke again mid-verse, and that made him snap.

He threw the papers he was holding to one side, stood behind you, and pressed hard on your diaphragm.

You tried again, but the note fractured halfway through, unsupported and thin. Cheolin inhaled and exhaled, calming down properly.“Stop. You’re still singing from your throat. Use your diaphragm properly.”

He stepped in closer without warning, positioning himself directly behind you. His chest brushed your back as his right hand settled firmly against your lower abdomen, just beneath your ribs. The pressure was strong and deliberate, guiding your breathing. His left hand rested lightly on your shoulder to keep your posture aligned. The sudden closeness made the studio feel ten degrees warmer—his body heat, the faint scent of his cologne, the low timbre of his voice right beside your ear.

“Again. Breathe here. Expand against my hand. Don’t lift your shoulders.”

You nodded, trying to focus. The position felt slightly off after yesterday's long ass session—your legs were still shaky and your balance unsteady. You shifted your hips in a small, subtle wiggle, trying to find a more stable stance and settle his hand more comfortably against your core.

That small movement pressed your backside firmly back against the front of his body.

Cheolin went rigid.

The soft curve of your ass ground against him for a single, devastating second. Heat surged through him instantly, blood rushing south so fast it left him dizzy. His cock twitched and began to harden against the fabric of his slacks, thickening rapidly from the accidental contact. Shame hit him like ice water, but it did nothing to stop the heavy, aching throb that followed.

You felt him tense behind you—his hand tightening slightly on your abdomen—but you didn’t register anything more than that. You assumed he was just correcting your posture more firmly.“Cheolin-ssi…?” you started, uncertain.

“Enough.” His voice came out rough, almost strained. He yanked his hand away as if your skin had burned him and took two sharp steps back. “Session’s over.”

You turned, blinking in confusion. His face was unreadable, jaw clenched tight, but his ears were flushed red.

“Go find Hoshi,” he said curtly, already turning toward the door. “Tell him I sent you for endurance work. Don’t waste time.”

Before you could say anything else, he was gone—striding out without a backward glance.

Pi Cheolin didn’t stop moving until he reached his private executive bathroom on the top floor. He locked the door with a sharp click, heart pounding in his ears.

“Fuck… fuck,” he muttered, bracing one hand on the marble counter.

The image wouldn’t leave him: the way your ass had pressed back against him, soft and warm even through layers of clothing. His cock was fully hard now, straining painfully against his slacks. At fifty-two, he hated how quickly his body had betrayed him.

He exhaled shakily and unzipped, freeing his erection. It was flushed dark and heavy in his hand, already leaking at the tip. He wrapped his fingers around the thick length and gave one slow, firm stroke from base to head, hissing at the relief.

Leaning forward, forehead pressed against the cool mirror, he started stroking in earnest—long, tight pulls, thumb swiping over the sensitive head on every upstroke. His breath fogged the glass. He kept replaying that moment in the vocal room: your little wiggle, the perfect press of your body against his cock, the way you’d said his name so politely while he was losing control behind you.

“Shit…” he groaned under his breath.

He tightened his grip, pumping faster, hips jerking forward into his fist. The wet, rhythmic sound of skin on skin filled the small bathroom. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He imagined what it would feel like if he’d gripped your hips instead, if he’d ground against you properly, if you’d pushed back on purpose—

A low, broken sound escaped his throat. His balls tightened, thighs trembling. He stroked harder, almost punishing, chasing the release he desperately needed.

It hit him hard. He came with a choked grunt, thick ropes of cum spilling over his fist and onto the sink as his cock pulsed again and again. The orgasm dragged on, wave after wave, leaving his legs weak and his vision spotted.

When it finally subsided, Cheolin stood there panting, staring at his reflection—flushed, disheveled, eyes dark with lingering want and fresh guilt.

He cleaned up mechanically, splashing cold water on his face afterward. The shame settled heavy in his chest.

This couldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t let it.

But even as he straightened his clothes and fixed his expression into its usual stoic mask, he already knew the lie was getting harder to believe.

Woozi was leaning against the wall right outside the bathroom, arms crossed, wearing the smuggest grin Cheolin had ever seen. His eyes flicked down pointedly to Cheolin’s slightly disheveled shirt and the faint flush still visible on his neck.

“Hmm, you know, for a fifty-two year old man, you last like a teenager jacking off for the first time,” Woozi said, voice dripping with amusement.

Cheolin nearly had a heart attack. He slammed the bathroom door behind him harder than necessary.

“You son of a bitch!” he hissed, voice low but venomous. “All you do is torment me. Were you waiting out here the whole time?”

Woozi shrugged, completely unbothered. “I came to drop off the revised tracklist. Then I heard the most pathetic little grunt through the door. Had to stay for the show. Respectfully.”

Cheolin rubbed a hand down his face, wishing he could disappear. “I hate you. I actually hate you.”“No, you don’t. You love me. I’m the only one who tells you the truth.” Woozi pushed off the wall and stepped closer, lowering his voice even though they were alone on the executive floor. “So. How bad was it? Did you even make it to the sink or did you ruin your slacks like a desperate schoolboy?”

Cheolin shot him a murderous glare and started walking toward his office. Woozi followed like an annoying shadow.

“I’m serious, Jihoon,” Cheolin said once the office door was closed. “This stops now. I’m not doing this. She’s twenty-two. I’m her goddamn CEO. One accidental… moment doesn’t change anything.”

Woozi dropped into the chair across from Cheolin’s desk, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Accidental moment. Sure. And you ran up here to jerk off in your bathroom because you’re just that professional, right?” He tilted his head. “Hyung. I’m surprised you didn’t come the second her ass touched you.”

Cheolin sat heavily in his chair and glared at the ceiling. His body still felt loose and sensitive from the orgasm, which only made him more irritated. “It’s been years since I’ve… been with anyone. That’s all it is. Biology.”

“Bullshit,” Woozi said cheerfully. “You’ve had opportunities. You just never wanted anyone. Until her.”

Silence stretched between them.

Cheolin’s jaw clenched. The memory of your body pressed against his flashed through his mind again, and he felt a faint twitch of renewed interest. He shut it down immediately.“I dismissed her to Hoshi,” he muttered. “I can’t coach her vocals anymore. Conflict of interest. You’re taking her back full time.”

Woozi raised an eyebrow. “You really think avoiding her is going to fix this? You’re just going to keep staring at her in the gym, jerking off in your office bathroom every time she wears leggings, and slowly lose your mind?”

Pi Cheolin didn’t answer.

Woozi sighed, the teasing fading from his tone. “Let me remind you for the nth time, you’re both adults. Just… be careful. Oh! And remember to use condoms, I'm too young to be an uncle.”

“Get out of my office, Jihoon-ah.”

Woozi stood up with a small smirk. “Fine. But try not to jerk off again before lunch. You’re too old for that much cardio.”

“Get. Out.”

Once the door clicked shut, Cheolin leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The silence in his office felt heavier than usual.  

He couldn’t keep doing this. Not the staring. Not the private sessions. Definitely not the bathroom incidents.

For the next few days, he kept his distance. He buried himself in meetings, paperwork, and the upcoming comeback schedules of his established artists.

He reviewed your training reports through Woozi and Hoshi instead of watching in person. When he did pass you in the hallway, he gave short nods and kept walking, jaw tight, eyes anywhere but on your legs or the way your sweat-dampened shirt clung to your body.

It worked. For about four days.

Thursday evening, just past 9 PM.

You were in the main practice room alone, reviewing the final choreography for your title track. The mirrors reflected your tired but determined expression as you ran the bridge section again, hips rolling into the sharp isolations Hoshi had drilled into you for weeks.

The door opened.

Cheolin stepped in, expecting the room to be empty. He’d come down to check the updated lighting cues for the stage mock-up, not realizing you’d stayed late.

You didn’t notice him at first, too focused on the music pulsing through the speakers.

The cropped hoodie you wore had ridden up, exposing a strip of smooth skin above your waistband with every hip pop.

Cheolin stood frozen near the door, one hand still on the handle.

You executed the final move—a slow body roll downward followed by a sharp snap back up—and caught his reflection in the mirror.

You startled, pulling your earphones out quickly.

“Cheolin-ssi,” you breathed, surprised but not unhappy. A small smile tugged at your lips. “I thought everyone had gone home already.”

He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze up to your face. “I was just checking the stage specs. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You reached for your water bottle, still catching your breath. “It’s fine. I was about to call it a night anyway.” You took a long sip, then wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “How does it look? Be honest.”

He found himself stepping further into the room.“You’ve improved a lot,” he admitted, voice low. Your cheeks warmed at the praise. “Hoshi-sunbaenim said the same thing yesterday. I’ve been practicing as much as I can.”

Cheolin’s eyes flicked down for half a second—against his will—watching the way your chest still rose and fell from exertion. He looked away sharply.

“Good,” he said curtly. “Keep that energy on stage. Don’t let the nerves make you small again.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. He seemed… off. Tenser than usual. The way he was standing, shoulders rigid, hands shoved deep in his pockets like he was physically restraining himself.

“Is everything okay?” you asked carefully. “You’ve been kind of distant since the vocal session last week. Did I do something wrong?”

The question hit him hard

Cheolin forced a neutral expression. “No. You’re doing well. I’ve just been busy. And… it’s better if Woozi handles your vocals from now on. I've got a packed schedule.”

You nodded slowly, though something in his tone made you unsure. “I understand.” An awkward silence stretched between you.

You bent down to pick up your towel from the floor, and Cheolin turned away entirely, pretending to examine the mirrored wall like it was the most fascinating thing in the building.

When you straightened up, you caught the back of his neck and ears were noticeably red.“I’ll head out first then,” you said softly. “Thank you for checking in, Cheolin-ssi. Goodnight.”

As you walked past him toward the door, your arm brushed lightly against his. Just the faintest contact. Cheolin’s hand twitched at his side.

“Goodnight,” he replied, voice rough.

The door closed behind you.He stayed in the empty practice room for another ten minutes, staring at his own reflection, breathing through the fresh wave of heat pooling low in his stomach.

“Get a fucking grip, Lee chan,” he muttered to himself.

Three weeks had passed since that incident. The recordings for your debut album were just around the corner.

And every damn night, his mind replayed that moment in the vocal room. The soft press of your ass. The little wiggle. The way you’d said his name so politely while his body had reacted like a starving man.

By Friday, he was irritable and short with everyone. Even his secretary asked if he needed a doctor.

Woozi, of course, was thriving.“You look like you haven’t slept since 2018,” Woozi said, dropping into the chair in Cheolin’s office uninvited. He was eating convenience store ice cream straight from the tub with a spoon. “Let me guess. You’re still doing the noble avoidance thing?”

Cheolin didn’t look up from his screen. “It’s called working, something you should do by the way.”“Bullshit. You look constipated. She asked me yesterday why you’re avoiding her. I almost told her the truth—that you jerked off in the executive bathroom because her ass brushed against your sad, neglected dick.”

Cheolin’s head snapped up. “You. did. not.”

Woozi grinned around his spoon. “Relax. I told her you’re just stressed about her debut. But hyung… this is getting ridiculous. You’re not protecting her. You’re torturing yourself. And honestly, it’s starting to affect your face. You’re scaring the interns again.”

Cheolin rubbed his temples. “She’s twenty-two.”“And you’re fifty-two, not dead. She’s legal. So stop acting like you’re grooming her. You’re not. You’re just a man who finally wants someone after years of punishing himself.”

The day before the official recording sessions for your debut album, the studio floor was eerily quiet.

Woozi had called in “sick” that morning. His text had been suspiciously short and cheerful: Food poisoning. Don’t make a mess on my recording studio^^. Fighting~

Cheolin knew better. That little shit had planned this.

It was just the two of you now. You in the recording booth, Cheolin on the other side of the glass in the control room, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The red “Recording” light wasn’t even on yet. You were simply running the title track one last time, trying to loosen your voice after a full day of rehearsals.

You’d already gone through the song twice. Each take was technically clean, but Cheolin kept stopping you.

“Again,” he said through the talkback, voice low and controlled. “You’re still squeezing the high notes. Relax your throat.”

You nodded, adjusting the headphones. The booth felt smaller than usual with only his eyes on you. You rolled your shoulders, took a slow breath, and started the verse again.

Halfway through the pre-chorus, your voice cracked slightly on the transition.

Cheolin exhaled sharply and pressed the button. “Come out here.”

You stepped out of the booth, wiping a thin layer of sweat from your neck. He was leaning against the mixing console, sleeves rolled up, the top two buttons of his black shirt undone. The tension in his jaw was visible from across the room.

“Cheolin-ssi… I’m sorry, I’m a little nervous about tomorrow,” you admitted.

He didn’t answer right away. His dark eyes dragged slowly down your frame — the loose cropped hoodie, the tight short leggings, the way your chest still rose and fell from singing — before snapping back to your face.

“You’re not nervous about the song,” he finally said. “You’re nervous because I’m here instead of Jihoon.”

You didn’t deny it.

He pushed off the console and walked toward you, stopping just close enough that you could smell his cologne and the faint trace of coffee on his breath. “You’ve been practicing for weeks. Your voice is ready. So why the fuck are you tightening up the moment I’m in the room?”

Your back met the edge of the booth door. “Because you’ve barely looked at me for three weeks. And now you’re staring like you want to, I don't know? Eat me alive again or something.”

Cheolin’s breath hitched. A muscle jumped in his cheek.

“I- I'm really done, you've got me fucked up, leave before I loose all my decency,” he warned. You looked up at him, pulse hammering. “Or what?”

The last thread of his restraint snapped.

He grabbed your chin, tilting your face up, and kissed you hard. You moaned softly into his mouth, hands fisting in his shirt. He walked you backward into the recording booth without breaking the kiss, kicking the door shut behind him.

Inside the small, soundproof space, the air felt even thicker. He pressed you against the wall, one thigh sliding between yours as his mouth moved to your neck.

“Three fucking weeks,” he growled against your skin. “Trying to be professional. Trying not to think about how soft you felt against me.”

Your hand slid down his chest, palm brushing over the obvious bulge straining against his slacks. He hissed.

“Cheolin…” you whispered, voice already breathy.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark. “It's either Cheol, or Boss for you. Now get the fuck down on your knees.”

The command sent heat rushing through you. You sank down without hesitation, fingers working open his belt and zipper.

When you freed him,you didn't expected what you saw, his cock was already fully hard, thick and heavy in your hand, the head flushed dark and glistening, he had some pubic hair, nothing too messy, made he look even manlier.

Cheolin let out a shaky exhale, one hand bracing against the wall while the other slid into your hair.

“You wanted to open your chords properly?” His voice was low, almost dangerous. “Then open your throat for me.”

You leaned in, licking a slow stripe along the underside before taking him into your mouth. He groaned deeply, hips twitching forward as the wet heat enveloped him. You worked him steadily, relaxing your jaw, taking him deeper with each bob of your head.

“Fuck… that’s it,” he muttered, fingers tightening in your hair. “Just like that. Relax your throat.”

You pushed further, breathing through your nose until your lips met the base and the head pressed against the back of your throat. Your eyes watered slightly, but you held there, swallowing around him.

Cheolin’s head fell back, a raw sound escaping him. “Shit… good girl.”

He let you set the pace for a moment before his control slipped. His hips started moving, shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, fucking into your mouth with growing urgency. The wet, obscene sounds filled the small booth — muffled gags, heavy breathing, the occasional choked moan from you that made his cock twitch against your tongue.

“Look at me,” he ordered hoarsely.

Your teary eyes met his as he slid deeper, holding himself there for a few seconds each time, opening your throat with every thrust. Saliva dripped down your chin. His thumb brushed it away almost tenderly, even as he rocked deeper.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped, voice strained. “Walking around here looking like that… calling me Cheolin-ssi while I’m losing my fucking mind…”

His rhythm grew rougher, hips snapping forward as he chased his release. You gripped his thighs, taking everything he gave you, throat contracting around him.

“I’m close—” he warned, trying to pull back, but you grabbed his hips and pulled him deeper instead.

With a broken groan, Cheolin came hard down your throat, pulsing against your tongue as thick ropes spilled into you. You swallowed around him, milking every drop until his legs trembled and he had to brace himself against the wall.

He stayed buried in your mouth for a long moment, breathing hard, before slowly pulling out. A thin string of saliva connected your swollen lips to the head of his cock.

Cheolin stared down at you, thumb tracing your bottom lip, something inside him snapped. All this time, neglecting himself, telling himself this was absolutely wrong, turned on him. Seeing himself "corrupt" such a young soul excited him too much. “Aigooo~ such a pretty slut aren't ya? C'mere I'm gonna fuck you in the proper place.”

He pulled you up gently but firmly, his thumb still brushing your wet lower lip. His eyes were locked in yours. “Please, tell... Tell me to stop right now, shove me against the wall, and make me lose my job.” You just looked at him with your pretty, round eyes, and opened your little mouth, sticking out your tongue.

“Spit on my mouth Daepyo-nim”

“Dirty girl,” he said letting out a breathless laugh. “You like this? You've wanting this, hmm?”And without warning, he slapped you, then grabbed your chin with one hand, digging his pretty fingers into your cheeks. Making you open your mouth once more, You stuck out your tongue instinctively, and Cheolin finally spat directly in your tongue.

The elevator ride up to the executive floor felt endless. Cheolin kept his grip firm on your wrist, thumb pressed against your pulse point like he needed to feel how fast your heart was racing. The mirrored walls reflected the two of you—his tall, imposing frame in black. He didn’t speak. Neither did you. The only sound was the low hum of the elevator and your own uneven breathing.

The moment the doors slid open on the top floor, he pulled you out, walking fast enough that you had to hurry to keep up. His private office was at the end of the hall. The moment the heavy door shut behind you, he locked it with a decisive click.

Cheolin turned, and in one smooth motion pushed you against the wide mahogany desk. Papers scattered. A pen holder clattered to the floor. He didn’t care. “Last chance,” he rasped, caging you in with both hands on the desk. His voice was rough, almost angry with how much he wanted this. “Tell me to stop. Call me a disgusting old man and walk out. I’ll still debut you. I’ll still take care of your career. Just… fuck—say it now.”

You looked up at him, lips parted, eyes glassy with want. Instead of answering with words, you reached down and boldly palmed the thick bulge still straining in his slacks, squeezing lightly. “So big...”

Cheolin’s breath stuttered. Something feral flashed across his face.

“Brat.”

He spun you around fast, bending you over the desk so your chest pressed against the cool wood. His large hand pushed between your shoulder blades, keeping you down as the other yanked your tight leggings and panties down in one rough tug, exposing you to the cool air of the office.

“Fuck,” he groaned at the sight. His palm smoothed over the curve of your ass before he gave it a sharp slap. The sound cracked through the quiet room. You gasped, hips twitching back instinctively.

He dropped to his knees behind you without warning. Strong hands spread your thighs wider, and then his mouth was on you—hot, greedy, no teasing. His tongue dragged through your folds, licking broad and messy, groaning at the taste of you like a man starved. When he sucked your clit into his mouth, your knees buckled.

“Cheolin-ssi—!” you cried out, fingers scrabbling against the desk.

He pulled back just enough to growl, “I told you. It’s Cheol or Boss when my tongue is in your cunt.” Then he dove back in, fucking his tongue into you, nose pressed against you as he ate you out with filthy, wet sounds. His nose, which used to touch your perineum, was replaced by his tongue, giving long licks from your ass to your clit. “F-fuck...Daepyo-nim- ahh-!”

Your moans grew louder, shameless. He added two thick fingers, curling them perfectly, stroking that spot inside you until your thighs shook and you came hard, gushing against his tongue with a broken sob of his name.

He rose behind you, pressing the thick, heavy outline of his clothed cock against your dripping pussy. The heat of him made you clench around nothing. “I’ve been hard for weeks thinking about this,” he growled against your ear, chest flush to your back as he rolled his hips, dragging that fat bulge between your soaked folds. “Thinking about how fucking tight you’d be. How wrong it is that a dirty little 22-year-old trainee is making a man my age throb like this.”

You whimpered, pushing back greedily.

Cheolin chuckled low and dark, then stepped back just enough to shove his slacks and boxers down. His cock sprang free—long, thick, and heavy, the veiny shaft curving slightly upward, the fat head leaking for the second time. He gave himself one slow stroke, clearly proud of the impressive length and girth even at fifty-two.

“Eyes on it, baby,” he ordered. “This is what you did to me. Look how hard your CEO’s cock is for a girl young enough to be his daughter.” He rubbed the swollen head up and down your slick pussy, coating himself in your juices before pressing against your entrance.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, mmm, Cheol… Daepyo-nim… fuck me, fuck me so so hard pleasepleaseplease!” you moaned, voice shaking with need.

That was all he needed. He pushed in—slow but relentless—watching with dark satisfaction as your tight cunt stretched obscenely around his thick length. Inch after inch disappeared inside you until his heavy balls pressed against your clit and his pelvis kissed your ass. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned, savoring the way your walls fluttered and squeezed. “So goddamn tight. Your little pussy is swallowing every inch like it was made for me.” He stayed buried deep for a moment, letting you feel all of him. “Most men my age can’t even get half this hard. But me? I’m still fucking hung and I can ruin you for hours, and I'm doing so, I'm gonna ruin you, You'll never want to fuck boys your age again, you'll only think about me, about how my cock fills you completely.”

Then he started moving.

He fucked you like a man proving a point—deep, powerful strokes that made the heavy desk slam against the wall. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock plunging into your soaked cunt echoed obscenely in the office. Every thrust forced a broken moan out of you. “Listen to that sloppy pussy,” he grunted, one hand fisting your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. “Soaking my balls already. You love getting split open by old man cock, don’t you?”

“Yes—yes, fuck—!” you cried, tears of pleasure leaking from your eyes. Cheolin laughed breathlessly, sweat already beading on his forehead, but his pace never faltered. He was showing off—long, punishing strokes that pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, making sure you felt every thick inch.

“Such a pretty pussy, good little girl.” he growled, reaching around to slap your clit lightly. “I’ve got stamina you’ve never even dreamed of, baby. I can fuck this tight cunt all night and still cum buckets. You’re gonna feel me for fucking days.”

He suddenly pulled out, spun you around, and lifted you onto the desk like you weighed nothing. Your back hit the wood, legs spread wide as he stepped between them and drove back inside in one brutal thrust. “Fuck—Cheol!” you screamed, nails digging into his shoulders. “That’s right. Say my name while I wreck you,” he snarled, pounding into you harder. His shirt was still half-buttoned, sweat making the fabric cling to his chest. The wet slap of his heavy balls against your ass filled the room with every thrust. “Look down. Watch how deep I’m going. See how your tiny pussy takes all this cock.”

You obeyed, whimpering at the obscene sight of his thick, glistening length disappearing inside you over and over. He leaned down, biting your neck hard enough to mark you, then growled against your ear, “I’m going to fill you up until my cum is leaking down your thighs tomorrow while you’re recording. Every time you sit down, you’ll remember whose cock ruined this pussy.”

His thumb found your clit again, rubbing fast and rough. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train—walls clamping down around his cock as you gushed around him, sobbing his name. “Mhgg...Ahhh, fu-fuuck, ah!... Ch-cheol.. ngh!”

Cheolin groaned loudly, fucking you through it without slowing. “Good girl—milk my cock. That’s it… fuck, you’re squeezing me so good.”

His thrusts grew erratic but still powerful. With a deep, animalistic groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy, pulse after pulse as his cock throbbed inside you. He kept grinding deep, pushing his load as far as it would go, like he wanted to claim every inch of you.

Even after he finished, he stayed buried inside, panting against your neck, his cock still half-hard and twitching.

“Still hard,” he muttered with a dark, satisfied chuckle, giving one lazy thrust that made you whimper. “Told you. At my age I still fuck better than boys your age ever could.”

He finally pulled out slowly, watching with filthy pride as a thick glob of his cum leaked from your ruined hole and dripped onto the desk.

Cheolin ran two fingers through the mess, pushed them back inside you, and leaned down to kiss you messily, tongue invading your mouth.

“You’re gonna take another load, baby,” Cheolin growled, voice thick with lust. He scooped two fingers through the creamy mess leaking from your pussy and pushed it back inside, stirring slowly. “Look how full you are already…”

He pulled you off the desk, legs still shaking, and spun you toward the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the glittering Seoul night skyline. Your palms pressed against the cool glass as he kicked your feet apart.

“Cheol—Daepyo-nim…” you breathed, heart racing at the exposed feeling.

“Geureom, bwa. (That’s right, look.)” He pressed his chest to your back, lining up his still-hard cock and thrusting in deep from behind in one smooth stroke. “Nae jageun trainee-ga changmun ape seo jappyeoissneun geol (My little trainee getting fucked right against the window). Anyone with binoculars could see what a greedy slut you are for your CEO.”

The city lights sparkled below while he fucked you hard and fast, hips snapping powerfully. Every deep thrust made your breasts press against the glass. His long, thick cock hit new angles that made your eyes roll back.

“Fuck—Cheol!” you moaned loudly.

He reached around to rub your clit, biting down on your shoulder. “Neo jinjja jjolttakhae (You’re so fucking tight). Even after I filled you once, this pussy still sucks me in like it wants more.”

After a few minutes he pulled out, breathing heavily but clearly energized. He sat on the large leather couch and pulled you on top, straddling him.

“Ride me,” he ordered, voice rough. “Show me how badly you’ve wanted this old man’s cock.”You sank down onto his length with a broken moan, the new position letting you feel every inch even more intensely. Cheolin groaned deeply, hands gripping your ass as you started bouncing.

“Eung… geureoke (Yeah… just like that),” he praised, eyes locked on where you two were joined. “Look at you bouncing on my cock like a good little whore. Neo neomu yeppeo (You look so fucking pretty) taking all of me.”

He thrust up to meet you, hands guiding your hips faster. Sweat glistened on his chest. At fifty-two he was still rock hard, stamina impressive as he fucked you from below with powerful strokes that made you cry out.

Suddenly he flipped you onto your back on the couch, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and folding you in half. The new angle made him reach impossibly deep.

“Fuck—too deep—! Too much!” you sobbed in pleasure.

“Neomu gipi? (Too deep?)” He smirked, sweat dripping from his jaw as he pounded into you mercilessly. “You can take it. This cock is ruining you for anyone else, isn’t it? After tonight, no boy your age will ever be enough.”

He leaned down, kissing you messily, tongues tangling as the sound of skin slapping wetly filled the office. Then he pulled out again, manhandling you onto all fours on the couch.

“Ass up,” he commanded. He slapped your ass hard, watching it jiggle before slamming back inside. His grip on your hips was bruising as he railed you, long powerful strokes that made your eyes water.

“Joha? (Feels good?)” he growled, one hand fisting your hair. “Tell me whose pussy this is now.”

“Yours—Cheol—yours!” you cried.

His pace grew feral. He reached under you to rub your clit again, pushing you toward another shattering orgasm. When you came hard, clenching and gushing around him, he groaned loudly.

“Geurae, nae geo (Yes, that’s it, mine),” he rasped. “Milk my cock just like that.”With a few final brutal thrusts, Cheolin buried himself to the hilt and came for the second time, flooding your already full pussy with thick, hot ropes of cum. He kept grinding deep, savoring every pulse, making sure you took everything.

Even after coming twice, his cock was still semi-hard inside you. He stayed buried deep, chest pressed to your back, breathing heavily against your neck.

“Still hard…” he chuckled darkly, giving one lazy thrust that made you whimper. “I told you, baby. At my age I can still fuck better and longer than any boy you’ve ever known. And I’m giving you one more round.”

Cheolin stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment. His chest heaved against your back, sweat-slick skin pressed together as he caught his breath. Slowly, he pulled out with a wet sound, watching another thick glob of his cum drip from your ruined pussy onto the couch.

But he wasn’t fully soft yet.

His heavy cock rested against your ass, still warm and thick, glistening with your combined fluids. He gripped your hips, breathing hot against your neck, and rubbed the slick head between your cheeks, teasing the tight ring of muscle there.

“Just a little more…” he murmured, voice hoarse and hungry. “Let me have this too. I’ll go slow—"

You tensed immediately, heart jumping.

“No,” you said firmly, reaching back to push his hip away. “Not that. Not tonight, Cheol.”

Cheolin froze the second the word left your mouth. The lust haze in his eyes cleared almost instantly. He pulled back like he’d been burned, his hands leaving your body completely.

“Fuck… I’m sorry,” he breathed, voice rough with regret. He ran a hand down his face, eyes wide with sudden shame. “I got carried away. I wasn’t thinking. I’m really sorry, baby.”

He quickly pulled his slacks back up, tucking himself away even though he was still half-hard. Then he reached for you gently, no longer demanding. His large hands were careful as he helped you sit up on the couch, pulling your cropped hoodie back down and wiping some of the mess from your thighs with his own discarded handkerchief.

“Come here,” he whispered.

He sat back against the couch and tugged you into his lap, this time cradling you sideways against his chest. One strong arm wrapped around your waist, the other gently stroking your hair. His heartbeat was still fast under your cheek, but his touch had completely changed — protective, almost reverent.

“I shouldn’t have pushed,” he murmured against the top of your head, pressing a soft kiss there. “Not when you’ve already given me so much. I lost control… again.” His voice dropped lower, laced with guilt. “You’re twenty-two. I’m your CEO. And I just fucked you like an animal on my desk, on the window, on this couch… I- I'm really sorry.”

You felt him swallow hard.

He tilted your chin up gently so he could look at you. His dark eyes were softer now, tired but warm. The usual stern mask was completely gone.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip with surprising tenderness. “Did I hurt you anywhere?”

You shook your head, still a little dazed. He let out a long, shaky breath of relief and pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you fully. “You just gave me the best fuck of my life” you managed to say, and you felt him chuckle as his hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back as you curled into him.

For several long minutes, the only sounds were your breathing and the faint hum of the city outside the window. Cheolin held you like something precious, pressing occasional soft kisses to your temple, your forehead, the corner of your eye.Eventually, he cupped your face with both hands and looked at you for a long moment. Then he leaned in and kissed you — not the hungry, claiming way from before, but slow, deep, and achingly tender. His lips moved gently against yours, savoring, apologizing, cherishing. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, a tired but genuine smile tugging at his lips. “But right now… I don’t regret any of it, you make me, feel young again... I only regret almost crossing that last line.”

He kissed you once more, softer this time, then tucked your head under his chin again, holding you close as the adrenaline slowly faded.

“Stay here for a while,” he murmured into your hair. “Just let me hold you. And, we'll see what comes after.”

“Wow, this room smells like fucking sex” woozi sat on the leather couch of Pi Cheolin's office. And he just rolled his eyes, “What do you want?”

Woozi was already comfortably spread across the leather couch, looking far too pleased with himself. Cheolin sat at his desk, regretting every life choice that led him to this moment.

“Hyung,” Woozi started, grinning like a gremlin, “be honest. How many Viagra pills did it take to wake up that fossilized dick of yours? Did you need the whole blue pack or just half? At 52, I bet it took her a solid twenty minutes of sucking just to get you half-mast. Poor girl probably thought she was doing CPR on your cock.”

Cheolin’s eye twitched. “Jihoon.”

“I’m just worried about you!” Woozi continued dramatically. “All that thrusting at your age… did you pull a muscle? Need me to call a physiotherapist? Or maybe some tiger balm for your lower back after all that ‘impressive stamina’?”

Cheolin rubbed his temples. “I will fire you. Today.”

Woozi bounced on the couch a few times. “So this is the famous fuck couch? Nice. Respect.” He patted the cushion proudly. “You really came inside her? Legend! Though I’m surprised your old heart didn’t give out.”

He suddenly stood up, walked over to Cheolin, and turned around, pressing his ass right against Cheolin’s crotch. Then he had the audacity to wiggle it.

“C’mon Daepyo-nim~ Teach me your ancient thrusting techniques. Is this how you fucked her? Show me the old man magic—”

Cheolin snapped.

“You little shit—!” He shoved Woozi hard, sending him stumbling back onto the couch. In the next second, Cheolin was on top of him, hands wrapped around Woozi’s neck in a fake-strangle while Woozi laughed hysterically underneath him.

“I’m going to kill you. I’m actually going to kill you this time,” Cheolin growled, shaking him lightly while Woozi kept cackling.

Woozi wheezed between laughs, still being dramatic. “Harder, Daddy— I mean, Daepyo-nim! Choke me—! Ahhhh, ahhhhhh! Mmm, shit, I like this stuff.”

The office door opened.

You stood in the doorway, eyes wide at the sight of your scary CEO on top of Woozi on the cum-stained couch, hands around his neck, while Woozi looked way too happy about it.

A surprised laugh escaped you.

Both men froze. You leaned against the doorframe, biting your lip to contain your grin. “Wow… I don’t mind a third,” you said sweetly, tilting your head. “If you two are already warming up, I can join. Or just watch. Whatever you prefer.”

Woozi’s face lit up like Christmas. “See, hyung? She’s into it!”

Cheolin slowly released Woozi’s neck, looked straight at the ceiling, and muttered in pure defeat:

“…I should’ve stayed celibate.”

Yaaaay, you've reached the end! I really hope y'all enjoyed this haha, i put all my effort on this.

I really really hope you like this. Thanks for all your support, I'll continue to do my best!

I plan to first post a request I received, And then another fic

And lemme spoil the plot for my next fic.

How unlucky did you have to be for your two favorite exes, the ones you really wanted to get back with, to end up together? And without meaning to, they rub it in your face. But things take an unexpected turn when you find them in one of the classrooms after class hours.

Can y'all guess who are the protagonists of this fic? Haha, lmk in the comments!

Taglist!

“Ugh, this weather is 'bout to fucking kill me.”You said as you took off your clothes one by one, leaving you in a pretty two-piece swimsuit. Then you jumped into the pool, standing besides the owner of the house; Seungcheol. As you settled down next to him, Jun positioned himself next to you, handing you a bottle of beer. “I think I'm in love with you bro.” he chuckled “Of course you are”

The meeting was quite relaxed; almost the entire group was there, only Jihoon was missing, having declined the invitation because he was sick. “It’s a shame Jihoon couldn’t come,” Joshua said, taking a sip from his bottle. “The water is delicious.”“Yeah, feels like paradise,” you agreed, leaning back against the pool edge between Seungcheol and Jun. The water lapped gently at your chest as you stretched your legs out, toes brushing the smooth tiles at the bottom.

“Poor guy,” you said, Jun bumped your shoulder playfully, he changed the conversation suddenly, “You’re glowing today. New swimsuit?” His eyes flicked down for a second before snapping back up, innocent as ever. “Suits you.” “Thanks,” you laughed, splashing him lightly. Joshua swam over from the other side of the pool, shaking water from his hair like a dog. “Seriously, this is the best idea Cheol’s had in months. We should do this every weekend.”

The group chatter flowed easy—talk about upcoming shit, dumb inside jokes, who was winning the impromptu chicken fight happening at the shallow end. You floated there, content, the cold beer and warm water doing wonders for your mood.

“F-Fuck, I hate you, ahhh! So much.” Jihoon was stroking his cock, his sweaty forehead pressed against the cold wall of your apartment. One of his hands clenched one of your panties against his nose, inhaling as much as he could.

Lee Jihoon wasn't sick. Or rather, he was lovesick.

This had become a horrible habit, a habit that had caused him to develop a terrible hatred for himself. Why did he do it? He had never felt the need for sex until he met you. Pretty you, kind you, happy you. You. You. You! Your name escaped his lips in sighs, He could feel tears welling up in his eyes because of all the excitement he felt at that moment. "What will you think of me when you see me like this? Will you let me keep doing this? Will you let me taste you? Will you let me fuck you? Will you stop talking to me? " Were common thoughts by now.

“Ahhhh.... Ahh...Ahhh.... Oh lord! Forgive m-me, Fuck!” Jihoon wasn't religious at all. But he felt he needed to ask someone for forgiveness for the atrocities he was committing.

His lips were trembling, the fabric of your panties so close to his mouth. So close to him... He opened his mouth slowly, and stuck out his trembling tongue, unsure of what he was about to do. He gave a slow and delicious lick to the fabric, where all your essence was concentrated, making him let out a whine of desperation.

So close and yet so far away.

“F-fuck… you’d hate me,” he whispered against the stolen cloth, voice cracking. “You’d never look at me the same way again… but I can’t stop. I can’t—ahh—I need you so bad.” His hips jerked forward, rutting into his fist as he buried his face deeper into your underwear.

The entire image he had created of himself, that innocent, repentant man, was replaced by what he truly was: a degenerate.

Jihoon’s breath hitched violently as his tongue pressed flat against the damp crotch of your panties again, dragging slowly, savoring the faint salty-sweet trace of you that still lingered there. The taste made his cock twitch hard in his fist, a fresh bead of precum sliding over his knuckles.

“Fuck… you taste so good,” he whimpered, voice wrecked. “Even just this… shit, I’m losing my fucking mind.”

His hips snapped forward, fucking into his tight fist with short, desperate thrusts. The wet sound of skin on skin filled your quiet apartment. He could imagine you underneath him instead—legs spread, those pretty panties pushed to the side, your voice moaning his name.

The image made him groan deep in his throat. He stuffed more of the fabric into his mouth, sucking on it like a man starved. His forehead left a sweaty smear on the paint as his rhythm turned brutal.

“Ah—ahh—fuck, I’d ruin you,” he panted around the cloth. “I’d hold you down and fuck you so deep you’d feel me for days. You’d cry and beg and still take every inch like a good girl… My good girl.”

The innocent, soft-spoken Jihoon everyone knew was gone. In his place was this trembling, filthy version that got off on stealing your used panties and fantasizing about corrupting you.

His balls tightened, spine locking up as the orgasm started barreling toward him. He pulled your panties from his mouth just enough to press the soaked fabric directly against the swollen head of his cock.

“Gonna cum—gonna cum on your pretty panties again—fuck—!”

Thick ropes of cum shot across the delicate lace, staining it white. He kept stroking through it, milking every last drop while soft, broken whines spilled from his lips. Your name left him like a prayer and a curse at the same time.

For a few long seconds, only his ragged breathing filled the room.

Then the shame hit like always—crushing, heavy, sickening. He stared down at the mess he’d made on your stolen underwear, thumb absently smearing his cum into the fabric like he was marking it.

“…I’m disgusting,” he whispered, voice cracking. But even as he said it, his spent cock gave a weak twitch in his hand, already showing interest again at the sight of his claim on something so intimately yours.

“Oh no honey, you're not disgusting” He felt cold hands touch his ass, and slide to the tip of his cock, collecting some of his cum, before finding thin fingers tapping against his bottom lip. “Open up baby”

Jihoon froze, every muscle in his body locking up as if struck by lightning. The voice cut through the haze of his post-orgasm shame. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. He was supposed to be alone. You were supposed to be at Seungcheol’s pool party for hours.

But those were your fingers, cool and slick with his own cum, pressing against his bottom lip. Your chest brushed his back as you pressed closer, your breath warm against his ear.

“Open up, baby,” you repeated, softer this time, almost coaxing. The nickname made his spent cock twitch again in your other hand.

His lips parted on a broken, shaky exhale. You didn’t hesitate—two fingers slid past his lips, pushing his own thick release onto his tongue. Salty, bitter, still warm. Jihoon whimpered around them, eyes squeezing shut as humiliation burned through him like fire. Yet his hips jerked forward involuntarily, pushing his softening cock into your palm.

“Mmm… that's it,” you murmured, slowly fucking your fingers in and out of his mouth, spreading his cum across his tongue. “Look at you. So pretty when you’re falling apart. I always wondered how long it would take for you to snap.”

He tried to speak, but it came out as a gagged moan around your fingers. You pulled them free with a wet pop, smearing the remnants across his swollen lips before wiping them on his cheek.

“You… you knew?” His voice was wrecked, barely above a whisper. Tears of shame and overwhelming lust pricked at the corners of his eyes.

You hummed, sliding your hand down his chest, nails lightly scratching over his shirt. “I’ve been finding my panties in weird places for weeks. Sometimes they came back… used. Sometimes they didn’t. At first I thought I was going crazy.” You pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, then bit down gently. “Then I installed a small camera. Imagine my surprise when sweet, shy Jihoon turned out to be such a filthy little thief.”

Jihoon’s knees nearly buckled. The shame was crushing, but the way your hand was lazily stroking his cock—already hardening again despite how sensitive he was—made his head spin.

“I’m sorry—fuck, I’m so sorry,” he choked out, even as his hips started rolling into your fist. “I didn’t mean to… I just— I need you so bad it hurts. Every day. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers down his spine.“Shhh. I’m not mad, baby.” You squeezed his cock harder, thumb pressing against the slit where fresh precum was already leaking. “I’m actually impressed. You hid it so well. All those soft smiles and gentle words while you were coming in my panties like a desperate pervert. Such a good actor.”

You got on your knees, and opened up his buttcheeks. “Hmmm, were you expecting visitors, or why is it so clean around here, hm?” you mocked him, and buried your face between his buttocks, devouring him like there was no tomorrow.

Jihoon’s entire body jolted violently, a high-pitched, broken whine tearing from his throat as your hot, wet tongue circled his tight rim. His hands slapped against the wall for balance, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the paint while his legs trembled.

“W-wait—! Ahh—fuck, what are you—?!” His voice cracked, the words dissolving into a choked moan when you licked a broad, filthy stripe over his hole again, teasing the sensitive skin before pushing the tip of your tongue inside him.

He had never felt anything like this. The wet heat, the sheer obscenity of it—your face pressed between his cheeks while you ate him out like you were starving for it. Shame burned through every inch of his body, but his cock betrayed him completely, hardening fully again in seconds, throbbing painfully and leaking a steady drip of precum onto the floor.

You pulled back just enough to speak, voice muffled and dripping with amusement. “So sensitive here… Did my sweet, innocent Jihoon ever let anyone play with his pretty little hole before?” You gave his cheek a sharp slap, then spread him wider, spitting directly on his entrance before diving back in.

“N-no—never—ahhh!” Jihoon’s forehead pressed harder against the wall, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth as you fucked your tongue deeper, lapping and sucking with shameless hunger. Every swirl made his cock jump, his balls tightening again far too quickly. “It’s dirty—please, you don’t have to—fuck—!”

You laughed against his skin, the vibration pulling another wrecked sound from him. “Dirty? Baby, you’ve been licking my used panties like a desperate slut. You don’t get to talk about dirty.” One of your hands reached around to grab his aching cock, stroking him in time with the thrusts of your tongue.

Jihoon’s hips jerked forward into your fist, then back against your face, caught between the two overwhelming sensations. He was losing control fast—whimpering, moaning, babbling nonsense while you rimmed him mercilessly.

“You taste so fucking good,” you purred, pulling away for a second to bite the soft flesh of his ass. “All flushed and twitching for me. I could stay here for hours… but I think you’d cum from just this, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded frantically, too far gone to lie. “Y-yes—please— I’m so close already, I can’t— I can’t hold it—”

You stood up suddenly, leaving him empty and aching. Jihoon let out a pathetic, disappointed cry at the loss, but before he could beg, you spun him around and shoved him back against the wall. Your hand wrapped around his throat—not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind him who was in control.

“Look at me.”

His eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, cheeks streaked with tears and drool. You leaned in and kissed him filthily, shoving your tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself on you. He moaned into the kiss like a man starved, hands hovering at your waist, unsure if he was allowed to touch.

When you pulled back, a string of saliva connected your lips.

“I want you to tell me what you want to do to me, and, if what you say convinces me, I'll let you fuck me into oblivion.”

Jihoon stared at you, chest heaving, his cock throbbing angrily between you both—still slick from your earlier strokes and his own cum. Your hand stayed firm around his throat, thumb brushing his racing pulse. He could smell the faint chlorine from Seungcheol’s pool still clinging to your skin.

“I… I don’t know where to start,” he rasped, voice hoarse from all the whining he’d done earlier. His hands finally dared to settle on your hips, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’d vanish.

You arched a brow, squeezing his throat just a fraction tighter. “Try. Be honest, baby. Tell me every filthy thing you’ve imagined doing to me while you jerked off with my panties.”

Jihoon swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing under your palm. His cock twitched visibly, another bead of precum rolling down the shaft.

“I… I’ve thought about sneaking into your room at night,” he whispered, the words tumbling out faster once they started. “Pin you down while you’re sleeping. Stuff my cock into your mouth and wake you up like that—fucking your throat until you’re choking and crying. I want to see your mascara run while I use you.”

Your lips curved into a slow, satisfied smirk. You rewarded him by sliding your free hand down to stroke his cock again, slow and teasing.

“Keep going.”

Jihoon’s head thunked back against the wall, hips jerking into your fist. “F-fuck… I want to bend you over every surface in this apartment. On the kitchen counter, against the window so anyone could see. I want to spank your ass red and then eat you out until you’re shaking and squirting on my tongue. I’ve dreamed about tasting you fresh, not just your panties—burying my face in your pussy for hours, sucking on your clit until you can’t even say my name right.”

His voice cracked, growing more unhinged the longer you stroked him.

“I want to breed you. Fill you up over and over until my cum is leaking down your thighs and you’re so full it hurts. I want to make you ride me while I hold your hands behind your back, make you bounce on my cock like a desperate little slut until you’re begging me to cum inside. And then… then I want to flip you over and fuck you harder. Ruin you. Mark your neck, your tits, your thighs—bite you, slap your pussy, make you scream my name so loud the neighbors hear.”

He was panting now, tears slipping down his cheeks again, but his eyes were locked on yours with feverish intensity.

“I want to own you. I want you to own me. I want you to use me as your toy whenever you want—make me crawl, make me beg, make me eat my own cum out of your cunt after I fill you. I don’t care how disgusting it is anymore. I just need you. Please… please let me fuck you. I’ll do anything.”

The silence that followed was deafening, only broken by his ragged breathing.

You finally released his throat and stepped back, peeling off your swimsuit top and bottoms right there in front of him. His eyes devoured every inch of newly exposed skin. When you were fully naked, you turned, planted your hands on the wall beside him, and arched your back—presenting your ass and dripping pussy like an offering.

“Then take me, Jihoon,” you said, voice low and commanding. “Show me how much of a depraved little pervert you really are. Fuck me like you’ve been fantasizing.”

Jihoon broke.

He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise, lined up his aching cock, and slammed into you in one brutal thrust. The wet, filthy sound of your bodies connecting echoed through the apartment. You both moaned—his broken and relieved, yours satisfied and teasing.

“Fuuuuck— so tight, so wet— shit—!” he gasped, already snapping his hips forward at a punishing pace. Every thrust was deep, desperate, years of repressed obsession pouring out of him. One hand fisted your hair, yanking your head back so he could bite and suck marks into your neck while the other reached around to rub your clit.

“You feel even better than I imagined,” he growled against your skin, voice completely different from the shy Jihoon everyone else knew. “Gonna fuck you stupid. Gonna fill this pretty pussy until it’s overflowing. You’re mine now—my dirty secret, my fucking goddess—”

He laughed breathlessly as he felt you pushing back against him, clenching around his cock on purpose. “That’s it, baby. Clench around my fucking cock, show me how much you love this cock, shit—!”

Jihoon’s hips snapped forward with a brutal thrust that punched the air out of your lungs. The sweet, shy boy was long gone.

He yanked your head back harder by the hair, forcing your back to arch deeper as he pounded into you. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the apartment, filthy and relentless.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he growled low against your ear. “I was so fucking tired of acting like a saint while I jerked my cock raw to your dirty panties… And finally, here you are, presenting that sloppy cunt like a desperate whore.”

His hand left your clit only to crack down hard on your ass, the sharp smack echoing. You clenched around him involuntarily and he laughed — a low, mocking sound that sent heat rushing through you.

“Yeah? You like that?” Another harsh slap, harder this time. “Of course you do. Walking around in tiny swimsuits, letting the others stare at what’s mine.”

He pulled out almost completely, then slammed back into the hilt in one vicious stroke, grinding deep, making your knees buckle, but he held you up with an iron grip on your hip and hair.

“You like this, don't you?” he snarled, punctuating the demand with another brutal thrust. Then he placed one of his hands on your lower stomach feeling a slight bulge “Fuuuuuck, yes, can you feel me? Feel me rearrange your insides, huh?”

“Y-Yes—” you gasped, barely able to form words as he railed you against the wall.

Jihoon’s grip tightened, bordering on painful. “Pathetic filthy fucking girl.”

He suddenly pulled out with a wet, obscene sound, leaving your pussy clenching around nothing. Before you could even catch your breath, Jihoon spun you around and shoved you down onto your knees in one fluid, rough motion.

The hardwood floor bit into your skin, but the sting was quickly forgotten as his cock — glistening with your juices and still rock hard — bobbed right in front of your tear-streaked face.

He tapped the heavy, slick head against your cheek once, twice, then smeared it across your lips and cheekbone, coating your skin with your own arousal.

“Open that fucking mouth,” he ordered coldly, voice low and dangerous. His usual soft tone was completely gone, replaced by pure dominance.

The second your lips parted, Jihoon didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the back of your head with both hands and shoved his cock straight down your throat in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt until your nose pressed flush against his pelvis.

“Fuuuuck yes…” he groaned deeply, eyes rolling back for a second as your throat convulsed around him. “That’s it. Take every inch, you greedy little whore.”

He held you there, hips pressed forward, savoring the way your throat spasmed and gagged around his length. Your eyes watered instantly, tears spilling down your cheeks as you struggled for air. Saliva already started dripping from the corners of your stretched lips, running down your chin and onto your tits.

When you tried to pull back slightly for oxygen, he tightened his grip in your hair, keeping you pinned in place.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he snarled, looking down at you with dark, lust-drunk eyes. “This is what you wanted, right? you're the one letting me treat you like the dirty cocksleeve you are.”

He finally pulled back just enough to let you suck in a desperate breath through your nose, only to immediately start fucking your throat with short, ruthless snaps of his hips. The wet, gagging sounds filled the room — gluck, gluck, gluck — each thrust forcing more saliva to spill messily down your chin and neck.

Every time you choked or gagged hard around him, Jihoon let out a satisfied, mocking chuckle that made your pussy clench around nothing.

“Look at you,” he cooed mockingly, thumb brushing away a tear only to smear it across your cheek with the rest of your spit. “Crying already? So fucking pretty when you’re ruined like this.This is exactly how I imagined you.”

He thrust deeper, holding himself down your throat for a few long seconds, watching your eyes widen and water even more before pulling back again.

“You have no idea how many times I imagined this,” he growled, voice rough with pleasure as he kept using your mouth. “How many times I came into your panties while fantasizing about fucking you filthy girl.” He picked up the pace, fucking your face harder, the wet sounds growing louder and messier.

“Fuck— your throat feels even better than I dreamed. So tight. So warm. Keep gagging on it, baby. I want you to remember exactly who owns this mouth now.”

Your hands clutched desperately at his ass, nails digging into his skin, but you didn’t push him away. The mixture of degradation and overwhelming lust had you soaking down your own thighs.

Jihoon smirked down at you, clearly loving the sight.

“Good fucking girl.”

He pulled out abruptly from your throat with a wet pop, strings of thick spit connecting your swollen, abused lips to the glistening head of his cock. You gasped and coughed, desperately trying to catch your breath, drool running down your chin.

Before you could even recover, Jihoon hauled you up like you weighed nothing. He threw you over his shoulder in one smooth, possessive motion, his hand gripping your ass tightly as he carried you straight to your bed.

He tossed you onto the bed on your back. You barely had time to bounce once on the mattress before he was on top of you, shoving your legs wide apart with rough hands. In the next breath, he lined up and slammed back inside your dripping pussy with one brutal thrust, bottoming out instantly.

“Eyes on me,” he barked, voice dark and commanding. One hand wrapped firmly around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin as he set a punishing, merciless rhythm. The bed creaked violently beneath you with every savage snap of his hips. “Don’t you fucking look away. I want to watch every second of your face while I ruin this greedy little cunt. Been dreaming about breaking you like this for months.”

His free hand moved to your chest, pinching your nipple hard between his fingers and twisting until you cried out. Then he slapped the side of your breast, watching it jiggle with dark satisfaction. The sharp sting made your walls clench around his thick cock.

“Jihoon— fuck—!” you moaned, voice hoarse from the throat-fucking.

“Yeah? Say my name like that again,” he growled, slapping your tit harder this time. “Louder. Let me hear how pathetic you sound when I’m splitting you open.”

He leaned down, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck, biting hard enough to leave a deep, claiming mark. He sucked on it roughly, then moved lower, leaving another harsh bite on your collarbone.

“You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve pumped you full of so much cum it’s leaking out for days,” he snarled against your skin, hips never slowing. “Gonna breed this sloppy pussy like the desperate little breeding slut you are. You want that, don’t you? Want me to fill you until your belly swells, right baby?”

His thrusts grew even more savage, the head of his cock hammering relentlessly against that perfect gummy spot deep inside you. The wet, filthy sound of your pussy taking every inch filled the room. Jihoon kept one hand tight around your throat while the other slid between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit with fast, rough circles.

“Cum,” he demanded, voice low and dangerous, eyes locked on yours. “Cum on my cock right fucking now or I’ll pull out and edge you for the next three hours without letting you finish. Now!”

The overwhelming combination of his choking grip, the brutal pace, his filthy words, and the relentless friction on your clit sent you crashing over the edge. Your back arched violently off the bed, walls clamping down around him like a vice as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name brokenly, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes while your whole body shook.

Jihoon didn’t slow down for even a second. He fucked you straight through your orgasm with a wicked, satisfied smirk on his usually innocent face, eyes gleaming with dark pleasure.

“That’s fucking right. Look at you creaming all over my cock like a pathetic whore,” he laughed lowly, still pounding into your oversensitive pussy. “Squeezing me so tight… Did you really think you were in control just because you caught me? Cute.”

He finally loosened his grip on your throat slightly. The second you tried to squirm away, gasping for air and twitching from overstimulation, Jihoon let out a low, mocking laugh and grabbed your hips with bruising force, yanking you back onto his cock.

“Why you running away, baby?” he asked condescendingly, voice dripping with fake sweetness as he ground his hips in slow, deep circles. “I’m nowhere near done with you yet. You wanted the real me, didn’t you? Now you’re gonna take every fucking inch until I decide you’ve had enough.”

He pulled out suddenly, leaving you empty and clenching pathetically around nothing. Before you could whine, he flipped you onto your stomach like a ragdoll and yanked your hips up high, forcing your ass in the air and your face into the sheets.

“Ass up. Face down. That’s the only position you deserve right now.”

He re-entered you in one brutal, punishing thrust, burying himself balls-deep with a groan. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass, and he pressed one of his feet on your head so he could keep you in place as he started fucking you again, using your body like a toy.

But just as you started climbing toward another orgasm, he slowed down deliberately, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in torturously slow.

“Not yet,” he growled, slapping your ass hard. “You don’t get to cum again until I say so. Hold it.”

You whimpered into the mattress, pushing back desperately, but he kept the pace cruelly controlled, edging you mercilessly. Every time your walls started fluttering around him, he pulled out and slapped your soaked pussy hard — once, twice, three sharp, wet smacks that made you jolt and cry out.

“Pathetic. Look at this sloppy cunt twitching and drooling for me,” he taunted, spreading your cheeks wider so he could watch his cock disappear inside you again. “Slapping your pretty pussy and you just get wetter. Disgusting little slut.”

He started fucking you faster again, reaching around to rub your swollen clit with rough fingers while his hips snapped against your ass. The pressure built dangerously fast — too fast.

“Jihoon— please— I’m gonna—”

“No.” He pulled out completely again and delivered two more stinging slaps directly to your pussy, the wet sound obscene. “Hold it. You cum when I tell you to.”

You were shaking, tears soaking the sheets, thighs trembling violently as he edged you over and over. He kept switching between brutal, deep thrusts and cruel denial until you were a sobbing, babbling mess.

Only when he finally decided you’d suffered enough did he slam back in, fucking you with vicious intent.

“Now. Squirt on my cock like a good cumdump. Do it. Make a fucking mess for me.”

He angled his hips perfectly, pounding that sensitive spot inside you again, while his fingers rubbed your clit in fast, brutal circles. The pressure exploded.

You screamed into the mattress as you finally came — hard. Clear liquid gushed out around his cock, soaking his thighs, your thighs, and the sheets in a filthy, squirting mess. Your whole body convulsed, walls clamping down around him like a vice as wave after wave ripped through you.

“Fuuuuck— that’s it!” Jihoon groaned, voice wrecked with pleasure as he kept fucking you through it, drawing out every last drop. “Look at you squirting all over me like a broken faucet. Such a messy, pathetic girl.”

He didn’t stop. He kept pounding into your oversensitive, squirting pussy until your legs completely gave out.

“Gonna fill you up— fuck— take every single drop like the good cumdump you are, you hear me?”With a broken, guttural moan, Jihoon buried himself as deep as possible and came hard, thick ropes of hot cum flooding your spasming cunt. He kept grinding deep, making sure every drop stayed inside you, whispering filthy praises against your sweat-slicked back.

“Take it… take all my cum… gonna breed this sloppy hole until it’s overflowing…”

Even after he finished, he stayed buried inside you, one hand lazily stroking your spine while the other kept a possessive grip on your hip. He pressed a deceptively soft kiss between your shoulder blades.

“…We’re not done yet, baby. Not even close,” he murmured, voice still rough and dark.

He gave your ass a sharp, loud slap that made you clench around his spent cock.

Jihoon let out a dark chuckle at the way your body twitched beneath him, still fluttering and leaking around his cock. He gave your ass another sharp slap, watching the red mark bloom on your skin with satisfaction.

“Stay right fucking there,” he ordered, pulling out slowly. Thick globs of his cum immediately began leaking from your abused hole, dripping down your thighs. The sight made his spent cock twitch with renewed interest.

He scooped up the escaping cum with two fingers and shoved them back inside you roughly, fucking his load deep again.

“Look at that… my cum is already trying to run away from your greedy cunt. Can’t have that, you've worked so hard for it!” He pushed his fingers in and out a few more times, making obscene wet squelching sounds before replacing them with his cock again.

He started thrusting with purpose — slow and heavy at first, pushing every drop of his release back inside you. The wet, messy sounds were downright filthy as he fucked his cum deeper.

“Feel that? That’s me marking what’s mine,” he growled, gripping your hips hard as he picked up speed. “Gonna keep this sloppy pussy stuffed full all night.”

He suddenly pulled out, flipped you onto your back again, and pushed your knees up to your chest, folding you in half. The new position let him sink even deeper. He braced his hands on the back of your thighs and started pounding you with long, powerful strokes, his balls slapping against your ass.

“Fuck— this angle is perfect,” he groaned, eyes locked on where his cock disappeared into your cum-filled cunt. “Can hear how full you are. Listen to it.”

He fucked you harder, the squelching sounds growing louder and wetter with every thrust as his cum was churned into a creamy mess inside you. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto your tits as he used you like a fleshlight.

After a few minutes, he pulled out again and dragged you to the edge of the bed. He stood up, threw your legs over his shoulders, and slammed back in, fucking you while standing. The new height let him hit even deeper, the head of his cock bullying your cervix with every thrust.

“You’re gonna take another load,” he panted, voice strained with pleasure. “And then… you’re gonna eat it.”

It didn’t take long before his rhythm faltered. With a low, animalistic groan, Jihoon buried himself to the hilt and came again, flooding your already full pussy with even more hot cum. He stayed deep, grinding in slow circles to push it as far inside as possible.

When he finally pulled out, a huge rush of mixed cum poured out of you. Without hesitation, Jihoon dropped to his knees, hooked your legs over his shoulders, and buried his face between your thighs.

He ate you out like a man starved — loud, messy, and filthy. His tongue scooped up the creamy mixture of his cum and your juices, sucking loudly on your swollen clit before pushing his tongue inside to fuck more of it out. He moaned against your pussy the entire time, the vibrations making your oversensitive body jerk.

When his mouth was full, he climbed up your body, grabbed your jaw with one hand, and pried your mouth open.

He leaned down and spat the entire filthy mixture straight into your mouth. Some of it landed on your tongue, some on your lips and chin. He didn’t let you close your mouth.

“Swallow,” he commanded, eyes dark and intense as he watched. “Show me you’re a good girl and eat every drop of my cum.”

He kissed you right after, shoving his tongue into your mouth to make sure you tasted everything. The kiss was messy, sloppy, and possessive as he tasted himself on your tongue.

When he finally pulled back, a string of cum and saliva connected your lips. He smirked down at your ruined, tear-streaked face.

“Look at you… all fucked out and covered in my cum. But guess what?we’re still not done.”

He flipped you onto all fours again, lined himself up with your leaking, twitching hole, and pushed back in with a satisfied groan.

“I want this mattress ruined by the time I’m finished with you.”

Jihoon had completely lost count of how many times he’d made you cum. He’d fucked you in every position he could bend your body into — on your back, on your stomach, riding him, pressed against the wall, and now back on all fours like a bitch in heat.

Your mind had gone blank ages ago.

“J-Jihoon— hah— too much— can’t— mmh—!” Your words slurred together, broken moans and whimpers spilling from your drooling mouth. Your eyes were glassy, unfocused, tears streaked down your flushed cheeks. Every brutal thrust made your tongue loll out slightly, a perfect picture of cockdrunk stupidity.

Jihoon laughed darkly behind you, yanking your hips back harder onto his cock. The wet, filthy sounds of his cum being churned inside your overstuffed pussy filled the room.

“Yeah? Can’t what, baby?” he mocked, voice rough and mean as he leaned over your back, biting your shoulder. “Can’t think? Can’t talk? Look at you — drooling all over your own sheets like a brainless little cumslut. My perfect fucktoy.”

He reached around and slapped your swollen, sensitive clit again, making your whole body jerk violently.

“Again,” he growled. “Cum on my cock one more time. Milk me dry.”

You didn’t even have the brain capacity to answer. You just sobbed and shook as another orgasm tore through you, your pussy gushing weakly around him. Your arms finally gave out and you collapsed face-first into the mattress, ass still up like an offering while Jihoon kept fucking you through it.

“That’s it… that’s my good little cocksleeve,” he groaned, hips losing rhythm as he chased his final release. “Gonna fill you one last time— fuck— take it all—”

With a deep, guttural moan, Jihoon slammed in to the hilt and came hard, pumping thick, hot ropes of cum deep into your already overflowing cunt. He kept grinding, making sure every drop stayed inside as your body twitched helplessly beneath him.

You were completely gone — babbling nonsense into the sheets, body limp and trembling, a fucked-out, cockdrunk mess.

Jihoon was just pressing lazy kisses along your spine, still buried deep inside you, when the bedroom door suddenly swung open.

“Anyone there?” Seungcheol’s voice cut through the room. “You left your phone at my place. I was heading to get some groceries and thought I’d drop it off—”

He froze mid-sentence.

The sight hit him all at once: you face-down on the bed, ass still slightly raised, body covered in fresh marks and sweat, cum clearly leaking down your thighs. Jihoon behind you, naked, breathing hard, one hand still gripping your hip possessively as he slowly pulled out. Silence stretched.

Seungcheol’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on the phone in his hand. His mouth opened, then closed. He clearly didn’t know where to look, but his gaze kept dragging back to the scene in front of him.

Jihoon didn’t rush to cover anything. He simply glanced over his shoulder, still kneeling between your spread legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. His voice came out low and slightly hoarse.

“…Convenient timing, hyung.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn’t— fuck. I’ll just… leave the phone.” But he didn’t move. His eyes flicked to you again — the way you were still trembling, barely coherent, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy.

You let out a soft, broken sound, too out of it to feel real embarrassment, your body instinctively clenching around nothing now that Jihoon had pulled out.

Jihoon reached down and lazily pushed two fingers into your leaking cunt, stirring the mess he’d left behind. His eyes never left Seungcheol’s.

“You can leave it on the table,” he said calmly, almost too casually. “Or...”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. And walked towards the scene. Sitting besides you, caressing your hair. “You okay there? Can you give us an extra round?”

Soo... This is not my best work tbh, I'm kinda disappointed of how this turned out, but anyway, hope y'all liked it??

Remember my requests r open, if you want to drop something in the meantime I'm gnna be off here. I also want to thank you for all the support for "hand me a towel", I remember when I used to write stuff in my mother language and it didn't reach nobody lol, this support from all of you makes me so happy! So thank you so much!

Reblogs, and comments are really appreciated, love you all!

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