Frozen. In the hallway. Barefoot in his oversized shirt because laundry day got delayed, staring at the way his door is just barely ajar.

You should’ve walked past. You should’ve respected boundaries.

But the whimper that escapes from inside?

You blink. Slowly.

“Fuck—oh my god,” his voice stutters, low and raspy. “F-fuck, Y/N…”

Your name.

Your. Name.

You inhale sharply, but it doesn’t help—your thighs press together instinctively, and your fingers curl against the cold glass of the water you were holding like it’ll ground you. But it won’t. Not with the image now forming behind your eyelids. Sunghoon. One hand gripping his phone, the other likely between his legs. Probably leaking and messy and looking so desperate it’d be laughable if you weren’t imagining pressing your foot against his chest while he begged.

It’s not the first time you’ve suspected something. He’s always too nervous around you. Always lingering in your laundry loads. Always stuttering when you wear those old shorts. You’d catch him sneaking glances, acting like you were some goddess and he was just your awkward little servant.

But this? Hearing him moan your name while gooning out alone in his room?

You should walk away.

You don’t.

You push the door open instead.

His eyes snap up in a panic, his phone slipping from his hand mid-stroke. He’s a wreck— sweats pulled all the way down only wearing a shirt on , flushed skin glowing in the dim glow of his laptop screen. And of course, your Twitter page is open. One of your thirst traps playing on loop. Low volume, but not low enough to hide.

“Y/N—!” he gasps, scrambling, trying to cover himself but making it worse because he’s still so obviously hard, cock twitching as if it knows you’re watching.

You blink slowly, leaning against the frame. “You forgot to lock your door.”

His mouth opens. Nothing comes out. His face burns red. He’s petrified.

“Or maybe you didn’t want to.” You step forward. “Maybe you wanted me to see you like this. All fucked out over nothing. Over me.”

Sunghoon lets out a helpless little sound, hand still halfway frozen between covering himself and not wanting to lose the contact.

“You really are such a loser, Hoon,” you coo. “Jerking off to my videos? In our apartment?”

He nods.

He fucking nods.

“I can’t help it,” he rasps, barely audible. “You always look so—fuck, I didn’t mean for you to hear—I just—I was gonna clean up, I swear—”

You reach out and curl your fingers under his jaw, forcing him to look up.

“You really want to come for me that bad?” you whisper. “Then keep your hands off yourself. And let me watch you fall apart properly.”

The way he whines at that, eyes fluttering, cock throbbing untouched?

Yeah.

Your loser gooner roommate’s never going to recover from this.

You haven’t even said another word before Sunghoon’s already halfway falling apart again.

He’s still trembling — half-naked, sitting pathetically at the edge of his bed like a dog caught misbehaving. Your phone is in his lap, your video still playing, but his eyes won’t leave you now. Like you're the real thing. Like you’re his goddess incarnate.

You slide closer, push his laptop off the bed without a care, and straddle his thigh. You feel him tense — his hands twitch like he wants to grab you, but he’s too scared to move.

“You’re such a mess,” you whisper, tilting his chin up. “Wanna be useful for once, baby boy?”

His throat bobs. “Y-Yes. Anything.”

“Good.” You lean in, breath hot in his ear. “Then get on your knees.”

He drops so fast you almost laugh. Not even a second of hesitation. He’s already settling between your legs as you recline back on his bed, spreading them slowly, letting him see the wet patch soaking through your panties.

His eyes widen. Lips part.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “I made you wet?”

“You’ve been making me wet,” you admit, tugging his hair. “You’re just too much of a clueless little loser to do anything about it. Always walking around with that hard-on, thinking I didn’t notice?”

He whimpers. Literally whimpers.

But you don’t wait for him to get shy. You hook your thumbs under your panties and pull them to the side, baring yourself right in front of his face.

“Go ahead,” you purr. “Use that mouth. Let me see if you’re good for more than just jerking off to my voice.”

Sunghoon dives in like he’s been starved.

And god — he’s so eager. All tongue, all sloppiness, mouthing at you with zero rhythm but so much heart. You almost laugh again when he moans into you like your pussy is the holy grail. And honestly? The way your hips twitch? Maybe it is.

“God, you’re obsessed,” you groan, grinding against his mouth. “Do you even know what you’re doing or are you just that fucking desperate?”

But Sunghoon doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets worse — hungrier, messier, hands grabbing at your thighs like you’ll float away if he lets go. He’s making the kind of sounds you should be making. Like he’s the one getting off from this.

He probably is.

When you glance down, he’s rutting his hips into the bed, fully hard again, untouched. You tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his head back, slick coating his lips, chin dripping, eyes glazed over.

“Look at you,” you smirk. “Fucking gone.”

“I can’t stop,” he pants. “You taste so—fuck, please let me finish. I can make you cum, I swear—”

“Oh? You think you earned it?”

He nods wildly, tongue flicking out as if he's hoping you'll drag him back in.

So you do.

And this time, he figures it out — tongue flattening just right, sucking at your clit like he’s trying to memorize it. When you moan and grab the back of his head tighter, he whines into you, bucking against the bed like he’s close just from this.

“God—Sunghoon—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. Can’t.

You cum on his face with a sharp gasp, legs trembling around his ears, and he just stays there — moaning, still licking, worshipping like your pleasure is the only thing he exists for.

And when your hips twitch from overstimulation and you finally tug him off with a shaky breath, he looks up at you like he’s been reborn. Panting. Rock hard. Flushed and so stupidly in love with you it hurts.

“You came, right?” he says breathlessly. “Was I… Did I do good?”

You pause, eyeing the mess between his legs, your slick still on his lips.

Then you smile.

“Better than your hand, loser.”

You haven’t even caught your breath yet.

Your thighs are still trembling, still sensitive, and Sunghoon’s face is still between them, lips swollen, chin soaked. His eyes are dazed and glassy — drunk off your taste, off the sounds you made, off the fact that he was the one to pull those sounds out of you.

He looks like he’s floating.

You tug him up by the collar of his shirt — the only thing he’s still wearing — and he comes willingly, breath ragged, eyes wide.

You kiss him.

You shouldn’t. It’s too much. It blurs the line between filthy and… real.

But the moment your lips crash against his, it’s over. He melts into it, mouth moving sloppily against yours, tongue eager and messy and needy. He moans into your mouth like he forgot he just made you cum with his tongue.

You taste yourself on his lips. He doesn’t care. He kisses like he’s grateful. Like he never thought you’d let him this close.

“Fuck,” you whisper into the kiss. “You’re so fucking gone.”

Sunghoon nods frantically, lips brushing yours, voice breathy. “I—I’ve never—no one’s ever tasted like you. No one’s ever let me—”

You shut him up with another kiss. He sighs into it.

It’s filthy. Sloppy. Your spit is on his chin, his on your lips, your slick still drying on his cheeks and neck. His hands tremble as they rest on your hips like he’s afraid to grip too tight, like he still thinks this is a dream he’ll wake up from.

And god — the way he ruts up against your thigh, still hard, untouched — it’s almost adorable.

“Still hard?” you murmur against his mouth. “You’re such a little gooner. All I did was let you taste me and you’re ready to blow again.”

“Can’t help it,” he groans. “I think about you all the time. Every day. You walk around in your towel and it’s over. I—I almost came in the laundry room once just smelling your shampoo.”

You let out a soft, delighted laugh. “You’re sick.”

He nods like it’s a compliment. “Only for you.”

And maybe it is.

You push him back onto the bed with a firm hand, and he falls flat on his back with a breathless “oof”—and his cock jumps at the sound.

“Stay,” you command.

Sunghoon obeys immediately, hands by his sides, chest rising and falling with every labored breath. You climb over him, hovering above his twitching cock — flushed, leaking, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Been saving this for me?” you ask, dragging a finger down his stomach, nails grazing lightly. “Bet you could’ve cum from just eating me out if I let you.”

He whines. “I almost did. I didn’t even—fuck, please. Please ride me.”

You cock your head. “That what you want, baby?”

“Yes—yes—I need it, I need you so bad—”

You pull off your shirt in one smooth motion and the sound he makes is feral. He’s practically vibrating beneath you. Like his skin’s too tight for his body.

You sink down slowly onto his cock, watching his face contort — brows scrunching, mouth dropping open, the sweetest, most broken moan spilling out of him. His hands fly to your waist but hesitate again, unsure.

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Hold me while I fuck you.”

And he does. Oh, he does. His grip is reverent, tight like he’s holding the sun in his lap and doesn’t want it to burn him. You start to move — slow, teasing, letting him feel every inch of you with every roll of your hips.

Sunghoon is loud. Whining your name. Gasping like he’s overwhelmed.

“You fit so good,” he groans, hips bucking without meaning to. “Tighter than I imagined—fuck—I’m sorry—”

“You imagined this?”

“Every night,” he confesses through a breathless moan. “After you shower, when you say goodnight in those shorts. I fuck my hand so hard thinking about your pussy wrapped around me—fuck—I even used your towel once—”

You laugh, wicked and warm. “You really are disgusting.”

“I know,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry—I’m so fucking obsessed with you—”

You ride him harder.

His back arches, head pressed into the mattress, and he makes this pitiful, high-pitched noise as your pace increases — your slick dripping down to his thighs, his hands clawing at your skin.

“Gonna cum,” he sobs. “I-I can’t—I’m gonna cum so fast, I’m sorry—please don’t stop—”

“Don’t,” you growl, gripping his face. “You’ll cum when I say.”

“Y-Yes—yes, please—just tell me when—”

He looks ruined. Pretty and red and trembling beneath you. It’s not just sex — it’s worship. He looks at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. Like he can’t believe this is real.

You lean in, kissing him again — messy and uncoordinated, teeth clashing, his whimpers swallowed by your lips.

“I want you to cum inside me, loser,” you whisper darkly into his mouth. “Wanna feel how full you can make me. Think you can do that for me?”

He sobs — actually sobs — and then cries out, “Yes, yes, please, please—fuck—I’m cumming—!”

And he does. Hard.

It hits him like a freight train — his entire body jolting as he empties into you, gasping your name, pulling you close like you’re air. He holds you like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t.

You fuck him through it. Ride it out until he’s twitching and oversensitive, until he’s begging through whimpers, tears in his eyes.

“I can’t—I can’t—it’s too much—”

You finally slow, leaning down to kiss his damp cheek, his jaw, whispering softly.

“You did so good for me, Hoonie,” you murmur, brushing sweaty strands from his forehead. “My good little gooner.”

He smiles weakly, eyes fluttering.

And then?

He passes out. Fully wrecked. Totally blissed out. Still twitching inside you.

The sun is barely up.

Your thighs ache in the best way. Your neck is marked, your core is still dripping from what happened last night — and Sunghoon?

Sunghoon is snoring quietly. Dead to the world. One arm thrown lazily over your waist, face pressed against your chest like you’re a body pillow he clung to in his dreams.

You should feel awkward. Or guilty. Or something.

Instead, you just watch him.

There’s a little bit of drool dried at the corner of his mouth. His hair is a mess, and he smells like you — your sweat, your slick, your shampoo.

You slowly shift, brushing your thigh between his legs.

He twitches.

Hard.

Still hard.

You grin.

Sunghoon stirs, nose nuzzling your skin, a low groan escaping his lips before his eyes crack open. He blinks blearily at your chest, and then—slowly—realizes you’re still here. Naked. In his bed. Tangled with him.

And his morning wood is pressed right against your thigh.

“Morning, baby,” you whisper sweetly, brushing hair from his eyes.

He flushes deep red. “Oh my god. I didn’t dream that, did I?”

“Nope.” You kiss his nose. “You came so hard you passed out. It was adorable.”

He groans, burying his face in your neck. “Kill me.”

You laugh softly, running your nails down his back. “Why would I kill my favorite toy?”

Sunghoon’s whole body shudders at that. You feel his cock jump.

“You’re evil,” he whispers.

“And you love it,” you counter.

He doesn’t deny it.

You roll slightly, nudging your hips just enough to feel him twitch again.

Sunghoon swallows, cheeks flushed, eyes flicking to your lips. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna embarrass myself.”

“You already did. Last night. Multiple times.”

He groans again, hiding under the blanket like it’ll erase the memory of his whining and sobbing into your mouth while you rode him senseless.

“…I liked it,” he says after a beat. Voice soft. “All of it. Even when you called me a pathetic little gooner.”

You smirk. “Because you are.”

He blinks. Hesitates. Then — with the shakiest burst of confidence — rolls over you, pinning your wrists. It would be hot… if he didn’t immediately look panicked like he’s not sure if he has permission.

“…Sunghoon.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, already nervous.

“You think you’re gonna take control now?”

He bites his lip. “I just thought—maybe—I could try?”

You look at his arms trembling, his cock twitching against your thigh like he’s overwhelmed just from being on top. He’s so pretty. So eager. So doomed.

You pull one hand free easily and cup the back of his neck, dragging him down into a kiss.

It’s slow, hot — tongue and teeth, his hips jerking without rhythm. And then you roll your hips up just once — grinding your slick against his length — and he whimpers right into your mouth.

That’s all it takes.

He collapses back into submission, lips trailing down to your jaw as you whisper, “You really thought I’d let you flip this on me?”

“I—I just…” He sighs. “I wanted to make you feel good.”

“You did,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding up against him again. “But you do that better when you’re whining under me.”

Sunghoon lets out a helpless sound as you push him back, reversing your positions again until you’re on top. His eyes flutter, chest rising fast.

“Round two?” you murmur, guiding him to your entrance.

He nods so fast it’s almost dizzying. “Yes. Please. Ride me again. I’ll be good—better—I’ll last this time, I swear—”

You sink down on him in one smooth motion, and his sentence dissolves into a cry.

“Fuck—! I’m gonna—!”

You put a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t even think about cumming until I say so, loser.”

His eyes roll back.

You’re not letting him out of that bed until the sun’s fully up.

You sink onto him in one smooth, claiming motion — his cock stretching you again, thick and warm, filling you so perfectly you can’t help the soft gasp that escapes your lips.

Underneath you, Sunghoon looks like he’s about to cry.

His fingers dig into the sheets, arms trembling as he fights the urge to buck into you, to chase that pleasure like the pathetic little addict he is. His mouth falls open — no words, no sounds, just wide eyes and flushed cheeks and one trembling breath after another.

You’re not even moving yet.

“Still sensitive?” you whisper, dragging your nails up his stomach.

“Y-Yeah,” he pants. “Too much—you're too warm, I—I’m gonna—”

You press your palm to his chest, steadying him. “No, you’re not.”

He nods quickly — like a good boy — biting down on his lip hard enough to leave a mark.

You grind down, slow and deep, circling your hips just once.

Sunghoon sobs.

“Fucking hell—” he gasps. “Why does it feel better this time—?”

You lean in, your chest brushing his, lips at his ear. “Because you’re pussy drunk , baby.”

He whimpers.

“Because your loser brain is short-circuiting. Can’t even think straight. Just lying here like a pretty little toy for me to fuck.”

His hands fly to your hips, but you grab both wrists and pin them down.

“I didn’t say you could touch me.”

“I-I’m sorry—!”

You roll your hips again, slow and deliberate, your pussy gripping him tight — dragging over every sensitive nerve inside him. His head throws back against the pillow, a choked moan tumbling out, and his toes curl against the sheets.

“You said you’d last,” you purr. “So show me, Hoonie.”

You begin to ride him — slow at first, deep, every bounce designed to drive him insane. He’s shaking. Trying to stay quiet. Trying so hard to obey you even though he’s unraveling.

Your hands press to his chest, and you can feel how hard his heart is racing.

“You can’t handle this, can you?” you ask sweetly. “This pussy’s too good for your pathetic little brain.”

His whole body shudders.

“I c-can!” he moans. “I swear, I—I can take it—please, just don’t stop—please—”

You ride him harder.

The sound of skin against skin fills the room — slick and obscene and perfect — and Sunghoon starts making those noises again. Those pretty, broken, breathless moans like he’s being ruined all over again. His body jerks every time you sink down on him, thighs trembling, abs flexing.

“Fuck—fuck—oh my god—”

“Say it,” you growl, bouncing faster now, grinding your clit against his base with every thrust. “Say you’re my fucktoy.”

“I’m—!” His voice breaks. “I’m your fucktoy—I’m yours—please use me, I wanna make you cum again, I’ll do anything—”

You slam down hard — all the way — and stay there, grinding in tight circles.

And that’s when he starts to cry.

Just a tear or two at first — overwhelmed, overstimulated, emotionally wrecked — and it’s beautiful. He’s flushed and glassy-eyed, his lip trembling, looking up at you like you’re everything.

“Can’t—can’t hold it—”

“Yes, you can.”

“I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

You slap his cheek — gentle, firm — just once.

His eyes roll back, and he screams as he cums inside you again, loud and messy and raw, his whole body arching up off the bed as he spills everything into you.

Hot.

Heavy.

Way too much.

You ride him through it — overstimulating him, holding him down as he thrashes, twitching under you, gasping your name like a prayer and a curse.

His legs kick weakly, his hips jerking, a sob caught in his throat.

When he finally goes limp — sweaty, flushed, trembling — you slow your movements, grinding slowly just to ride out your own wave.

Your orgasm hits a second later.

Silently, this time. Deep, intense. Your walls fluttering around him, milking every last drop out of his twitching, oversensitive cock.

You collapse onto his chest, panting, skin hot, sweat clinging.

Sunghoon is wrecked.

Tears streaking his temples. Lips parted. Eyes barely open.

He looks so ruined, so small beneath you — but so happy.

You brush his hair back and kiss his damp forehead. “Still with me, baby?”

He swallows thickly. Nods.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he whispers.

You smile.

“You did good.”

He smiles too — soft, dreamy.

Then mumbles, “I think you broke my brain.”

You laugh softly, shifting just enough to tuck yourself against him without pulling off yet. “Good. You won’t need it anymore.”

And like the good, sweet, dumb little loser he is, Sunghoon falls asleep with you still wrapped around him — twitching every few minutes from overstimulation and murmuring your name like it’s carved into him.

When you wake again, the room smells like sex and sweat and still-Sunghoon.

Your legs ache, your body’s sore in all the right places — and wrong ones — and your head is still spinning from the blur of moans and messy kisses and the way he cried when you came again on his cock.

But now it’s morning.

And everything is… still.

You’re tucked into his side, but the space around you is cold — his body heat only lingering on the sheets. For a second, panic flickers in your chest. Did he leave? Did he freak out?

Then—

Soft footsteps.

The bathroom door creaks open.

He stands there in only a towel, hair still dripping, cheeks flushed.

“I started the shower,” he says, voice gentle. “It’s warm now. Thought you’d want one.”

You stare at him for a beat too long, brain catching up.

“…You’re being weird.”

He gives a soft laugh. “I know. Just—come on. Let me take care of you.”

You slide off the bed, muscles stiff, but his arms are there — immediately — wrapping around you like you’re precious. No teasing, no filthy comments. Just warmth.

Just him.

The shower’s fogging up the mirror. He helps you in first, hands on your waist, steadying you when you wince at the water hitting your sore thighs. Then he steps in behind you and pulls the curtain closed.

Silence.

Steam.

You wait for him to say something pervy.

But instead?

He pumps the body wash into his hand and starts lathering it down your back — gentle, focused. Massaging sore muscles, kissing your shoulder softly as he works.

You blink. “Okay. Who are you and what did you do with loser Hoon?”

He grins — shy. Still Hoon. “He’s still here. He’s just… being serious for once.”

“…You sure about that?”

He turns you around — softly — cupping your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. His eyes hold yours, and they don’t wander. Not to your chest. Not between your thighs.

Just… you.

“You didn’t have to be gentle with me last night,” he murmurs. “I wanted to be used. I meant it. But…”

His voice wavers just a little.

“…that’s not all I want from you.”

You blink. Heart thudding louder than the water falling between you.

“I know I’ve been a fucking mess,” he says, laughing at himself softly. “A gooner. A loser. Whimpering over you like a dog in heat. But I swear, that’s not the only me.”

He takes a shaky breath.

“And I know you’ve been in control. I loved that. I love how you take me apart. But I still want to be someone you can lean on, too. Someone who remembers to heat the shower before you step in. Who learns how to actually last more than two minutes just so I can take you apart. Not just your body, but…”

His thumb brushes under your eye.

“…your heart.”

You stare at him, stunned speechless for once.

He takes the chance to finish washing you — gentle hands gliding over your skin, washing between your legs with care and reverence, kissing your knuckles when he reaches for the shampoo. And when the water runs clear and warm again, he finally speaks once more:

“I don’t wanna be your toy forever,” he whispers. “I wanna be your person.”

You blink, breath caught.

“What are we?” he asks, voice raw. “Because I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. Not even close. I don’t want this to just be some hookup that fades when we get awkward or bored. I want more.”

You don’t speak yet. You can’t.

But he keeps going.

“Can I… court you properly?” he asks, voice almost shaking. “Old school. Dumb, maybe. But like—real dates. Home-cooked dinners. Learning your favorite coffee order. Earning it.”

“Sunghoon…”

“If you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. You can still use me. I’ll still be here. But if there’s a part of you that wants more, too…”

You step forward.

And kiss him.

Soft, steady, meaningful.

His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you close like he was holding back until now.

And when you finally part, forehead resting against his, you whisper:

“Then earn it, Park Sunghoon.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, eyes squeezing shut in relief.

“Gladly.”

@ tobiosbbyghorl 2026

you bit on your lower lip as you looked down, blush creeping from your neck to your face when you noticed the growing tent between his legs.

woonhak's face went completely red when he realised the reason why you weren't looking at his face anymore. he quickly panicked, pulling his hands away from you before you would think he's some type of pervert.

"fuck– shit– oh my god, I'm so sorry. I- I couldn't help it. I- fuck, I'm sorry, I swear it won't happen ag–"

"it's okay, woonie." you cut him off, batting your lashes at him. you leaned in closer to kiss him again, biting on his lower lip to let yourself in.

one of your hands travelled dangerously down to his lower abdomen, your wrist accidently touching his clothed erection, earning a whine around your tongue. a sound you never heard coming from him.

he sucked on your swollen lips as his hands hesitantly came back to your body, pulling you even closer by the waist.

as the kiss turned heavier you felt heat pooling in your lower abdomen, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. your fingers tangled around the strings of his hoodie, deepening the kiss.

woonhak's lips traced from your lips to your cheek, then to your jaw until he was facing the crook of your neck, sucking and nipping on your warm body. you let out a shaky moan into the air, hands going to slightly grip at his hair.

"woonie…" you called out softly, slowly pushing him away. you rested your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his heated core. he looked down at the way you brushed your thumb on his thigh. he swallowed hard, wishing you could lower your touch just a little more.

he looked up, noticing the way your face blushed with anticipation, the way your lips looked glossy thanks to the mix of salivas, and the way the collar of your shirt had loosened up from pulling it down.

"yeah?" he asked, and you swore you could see his eyes sparkling up like a cartoon character.

you exhaled softly yet nervous, not knowing how to make up the words without sounding too vulgar. "I–" you started, quickly giving glances to his growing crotch. "can I…?" you looked away, scratching your hand just to do something with it. you cleared your throat. "can I touch it..?"

his heart pounded hard and his eyes opened wide. he let out a shaky, nervous laugh and his eyes darted everywhere but you. "y-you don't have to…it'd probably go away. other wise I could j-just go to the bathroom anyways." he gulped, finally looking at you.

"but I really want to." you said, instinctively pouting at him. you grab one of his hands with your free hand, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. you noticed his adam's apple bob up and down once again.

woonhak stared at you for a moment, biting his lower lip at the thought of you touching him the way he'd had imagined many times on those needy late nights.

he let out a heavy sigh, slowly nodding as he looked down at his painful boner. he usually didn't get hard during making out, he'd fight it back, but there was something different in the air tonight.

you managed to kiss him again, hands starting to traced down from his chest to his thighs once again, making him shiver under your touch. you hesitantly reached your hand over his erection, slowly palming him over his jeans.

he moaned softly into your mouth, the tip of his ears immediately turning a deep red at the unfamiliar touch. woonhak's hips bucked up unconsciously, and he uselessly tried to apologise against your tongue. you moaned softly at the vibration, the sound sending waves straight to his already twitching dick.

your fingers struggled with the button of his jeans until you finally pulled back from his lips, using both hands this time. he helped you out, pulling his jeans down and throwing them to the floor.

you kissed him again as you grabbed his dick over his boxers. he whimpered into your lips, brows frowning with pleasure.

he hid his face on your neck, trying not to moan too loudly when you started to move your hand up and down painfully yet deliciously slow. you whined when he bit your neck a little too hard.

"f-fuck– you sound so hot.." he murmured against the red skin of your neck.

he turned his gaze at you, coming back to kiss you eagerly as his hands tried to grope every part of your torso. you let out a small moan when he did an experimental squeeze at your breast.

your hand reached down to the hem of his boxers as you pulled away, searching for his permission. when he nodded you pulled his underwear down to his knees, he hissed at the feeling of the cold air against his glowing red cock.

you took it, trying to decipher the way his face contorts as you pumped up and down. "does it feel good?" you asked, a soft pout forming on your lips.

he let out a pathetic moan when your thumb started playing circles on his aching tip. "f-fuck– y-yeah, it feels good. j-just try twisting your wrist more. shit–"

you do as he says, going back to kiss him as you pumped him. he pulled away and you noticed the way his chest fell back and forth, throwing his head against the headboard behind him.

"it feels s'good." he whimpered, resting his hands on his sides, not knowing what to do with them now, completely overwhelmed.

your stomach fluttered, the sounds he made sending heat throughout your whole body. it was a lot.

too much and not enough at the same time.

you noticed the way his breathing stuttered, the way his body tensed slightly beneath your hand. you slowed down without thinking twice, earning a confused look from him.

"wha-what? why did you slowed down?" his voice cracked, eyes flickering between your blushed face and your hand.

for a split second he thought he'd done something wrong. moaned too loud, reacted too desperately.

"I– I really don't know..." you confessed, earning a shaky laugh from your boyfriend. you laughed too, trying to ease the sudden tension. "I g-guess I just wanted to check on you," you said softly. "am I doing alright..?"

his shoulders relaxed a little and he smiled, leaning in to give a small peck onto your lips. "yeah," he nodded quickly, then slower, meeting your eyes. "you're doing it perfect. f-feels much better than my own hand." he let out a breathy laugh.

you nudged his shoulder slightly with your free hand, more blush forming on your cheeks thanks to his comment. "shut up."

you leaned in to kiss his lips, brushing your tongue across his as the pace on your hand quickened again little by little. his breath hitched, the sound muffled against your mouth.

woonhak tried to focus on breathing through his nose, but it was useless. every small movement of your hand and your mouth sent a jolt through him, sharp but warm.

he pulled away, throwing his head back again, placing his forearm over his face, trying to hide it from you. his cheeks were burning up and his brain was fogging, squeezing his eyes tight as he tried to steady himself.

he opened them back, looking at you. looking at the way you were watching his face, not his body. the way your brows knit together slightly, like you were paying attention to every little reaction, like you got off by the way his face contorts, made his chest tighten.

you noticed the way his breath hitched whenever your thumb brushed his tip, the way his lips parted letting out the prettiest sounds you ever heard. even the smallest reactions, all because of you.

your thighs pressed together instinctively, a quiet rush of heat pooling low in your core at the sight of him like this. you weren't sure when watching him started to feel this good, almost as if you were watching something you shouldn't.

woonhak noticed. not the movement itself, but the way your breath changed when he did. it made his stomach twist pleasantly, feeling his climax come closer.

the idea that his sounds, his reactions, the way he was falling apart under your touch were doing something to you made his heart race faster than before.

his fingers curled into the sheets, feeling closer than before. "I–" he called out, voice cracking. "I think I'm gonna– fuck." his breath catching in his throat.

you felt the way his body tensed beneath your touch, the way his hips stuttered as they tried thrusting up into your hand. you leaned in without thinking, pressing your lips to his, slow and warm as if you were grounding him. the pace of your hand quickening in a way that made his eyes rolled back to his skull.

his whole body gave in at once. he gasped into your lips, the sound muffled and desperate, hands flying to grip tight at your waist. his forehead dropped to your shoulder as his seed spread across your hand, swearing softly under his breath.

"fuck, s-shit– oh my god." his voice cracked. his breath was uneven.

you patted his head with your free hand as the other one slowed down, trying to milk every single drop until he was done. he stayed there until it finally passed, breathing hard. his hands still fisting around your waist, knuckles white.

he let out a shaky sigh, half laughing and half embarrassed. you smiled, cheeks burning just as much as his as you let go his dick. "'you okay?"

he nodded slowly, lifting his head just enough to look at you. his eyes were still glossy, and his mouth formed a cute pout. "yeah..." he said quietly, pulling away to grab the box of tissues on his nightstand, cleaning both your hand and his thighs.

he finished cleaning up quietly, pulling his boxers back up. his movements were a little clumsy, sensitive, like his body still hadn't caught up with what just happened.

your ears still buzzed like crazy. heart racing, skin warm, your whole body feeling heavy. watching him cum undone like that, hearing the way his voice broke. it all replayed in your head, sending another quiet wave of heat low in your stomach, making you press your thighs together again without even realising it.

woonhak noticed it, his ears burning red immediately.

"are you...um," he started, then stopped, rubbing his palms against his thighs nervously. "are you okay?" he asked, voice soft and careful.

you felt warmth settling into your chest. you nodded, "yeah." a shy flat smile tugging on your lips. "I am." you said, then hesitantly added, "it was...really nice...hot."

his eyes widened just a little, smiling. "it was?"

you nodded again, cheeks heating up as you started to hug your legs, resting your chin between your knees.

his gaze dropped without meaning to. just for a second.

his breath caught immediately and his face went hot all over again when he noticed the faint darkened patch of arousal on your shorts.

he looked away so fast it almost hurt his neck.

"..sorry," he blurted out quietly, embarrassed before you'd even said anything. his hands curled into the sheets again. "I didn't mean to stare."

you hadn't even noticed what he'd seen until you looked down between your legs. your cheeks burned, instinctively hugging your legs closer, embarrassed as if you didn't just give him the best handjob of his life.

it took him a moment to work up the courage to look at you again. when he did, his expression was soft. careful. almost worried.

"I just–" he hesitated, swallowing hard. "I thought maybe...you might be feeling...kinda worked up too..?" his voice dropped lower, shy but serious. "because of me."

"if you are," he continued, words rushed now, flustered. "I mean– only if you want– I could...maybe help? just a little? not anything you don't want to." he shook his head quickly. "I just don't like the idea of you feeling all...uncomfortable because of me."

his eyes flicked down to your crotch once more, then back up. apologetic and hopeful all at once.

"...I want to take care of you too," he said softly. then, quieter, "even if it's just– I don't know...whatever you want."

you didn't answer right away. instead, you let your legs relax just a little, unwrapping your arms that were around them. his eyes followed every little movement you made.

woonhak swallowed hard. jaw tightening as his gaze dropped again, lingering longer this time, biting back a moan. his hands slid to rest on your knees, thumbs brushing slow, warm circles against your skin.

he leaned in, pressing a long, gentle kiss to your knee. not where you were aching. not yet. he reached for both of your hands, locking his fingers with yours and giving them a small squeeze, grounding not only you but himself too.

you leaned forward to kiss him, a muffled whine slipping from you when he started to spread your legs to let himself settle between them. his hands resting on the inner sides of your thighs to keep you spread apart.

his breath ghosted over your body as he lowered himself, close enough feel his warmth even through your shorts. close enough that your fingers tangled in his hair without thinking.

he paused, then look up at you. "tell me if you want me to stop." he murmured, eyes sparkling up.

your breath stuttered. you looked down at him, at the way he was waiting. hands steady on your thighs, gaze warm but intense.

"don't," you said softly, voice barely louder than a whisper. "please."

taesan was going to pass out he felt like. his brain is hazy, his cock is aching, and his skin was on fire from how many times you slapped him across his face. he fucks into you at the pace you set for him, trying his best not to cum inside of you because he know the rules; he cant cum until he makes you cum first, and if he messes up the pace more than three times he wont get to cum at all.

“look at me taesan” your voice barely reaches his ears, he hears you but he doesnt move, head still turned to the side and eyes shut. you grab at his face hard, forcing him to look at you. “keep up the pace, you're getting sloppy” you slap him again, and he lets out a mix between a hiss and a whimper. he tries his best to keep up his pace inside of you but he keeps missing his rhythm, earning slaps from you each time he misses a beat. 

“s-sorry, ill do better mommy”

“you better, or you wont get to cum tonight”

he wasnt usually this pathetic. he would be able to satisfy you and take whatever you give him, but tonight was different. he was extra sensitive and everything you said to him went through one ear and straight out the other. taesans body goes limp, burying his face in your neck as he continues to fuck into you.

"a little slower sannie, mommys close" you breathe out, your voice stays flat as if you werent interested. taesan slows down just a little, trying to cheer himself on in his head to keep himself going. he doesnt know how much longer he's going to last, but he doesnt want to know what youll do if he cums before you. "sit up baby, wanna see your pretty face" you grab him by his hair to pull him from your neck.

"you're mommys little bitch, right?" you coo at him, your sweet condesending voice ringing through taesans ears.

"yes, mngh, i-im your bitch" he moans, struggling to keep his body upright. you grab his face again, squeezing hard. he looks at you with his flushed cheeks, mouth forced open from the force you were grabbing him with.

"thats right, you're gonna make me cum?"

"y-yes gonna- gonna make you feel good" he stutters, hips stuttering as well but you dont notice luckily for him.

"you look so pathetic right now sannie," he whines and whines, not able to keep his mouth shut from how good he felt being inside of you.

with a few more thrusts you're cumming, clenching around taesan so hard he has no control over his body anymore and cums right after you, filling you up before you could give him permission to cum.

"didnt mean to cum mommy, m'sorry please dont-" you cut taesan off with a kiss, thinking he was too cute with his stammering. he was a little too distressed for your liking though and you were getting a little worried.

"whats your color baby?" you were pretty rough with him tonight, you wouldnt be shocked if he was done for the rest of the night.

"y-yellow" taesans face was burning red, like he was embarrased for wanting to slow things down and stop. you help him pull out of you, he hisses at the loss of contact and you sit up all the way, changing the position so you were sitting on taesans lap instead. you embrace him in your arms, and he hugs you tightly. you can feel his racing heartbeat through his chest, and you hugh him tighter until his heartbeat and breathing regulates.

Dongmin knows he’s been good all day.

He helped you lace your long heels up, took you on a nice date, and even now he’s eating you out.

Not once did he hear your usual pet name for him; “Good boy”.

Not even when he pulled out an orgasm out of you within minutes. He starts to wonder if you’re teasing him, staying tight lipped because you know how much he likes to be praised.

When Dongmin’s head starts to cloud up, he pulls away from your heat, resting his chin on your v line. You gasp at the loss of contact, and pick your head up to see the problem.

“What’s the matter, babe?” You barely breathe out, the oxygen previously in your lungs being sucked out by your boyfriend.

“Please..”

Dongmin doesn’t finish the sentence, he debates if you didn’t like the date or are mad at him. He looks into your eyes, trying to tell what you’re thinking.

“Please what?”

You tilt your head, a coy smile forming on your lips. He instantly glances away, a faint red dusting his cheeks.

“Please— I don’t know what I did wrong, tell me I’m doing good.. please.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, you start to wonder what you could’ve done to get him this worked up. You don’t waste your time dwelling on it, though, you have an idea.

“Lay down.”

Dongmin obeys almost immediately, crawling onto the bed next to you. You kick a leg over his waist and straddle him, a soft gasp coming from each of you from the sudden contact.

He watches your bare pussy start to move on the seam of his jeans, hands shooting out to your hips on instinct, guiding you.

“Fuck.. that’s good baby, just like that.”

A whimper falls pathetically out of his mouth, the praise and the pleasure mixing in his mind. Any thought that Dongmin previously had vanishes, the only thing that matters now is how soaked you’re making him.

You lean down, teeth grazing his neck in a way that has him squirming. You suck hickeys down to his chest, soothing them as you go with your tongue.

“Such a good boy— My good boy.”

Dongmin throws his head back, his hips bucking up into your cunt for more friction.

“Treated me so well today too, took me on a date, tied my shoes and even treated me in bed. You deserve a reward.”

You know well he can’t respond to you, not when you’re buttering him up, lips grazing his ear as you too.

He presses you down further on his cock, drinking in the gasp that spills from you.

“Shit! Keep doing that… Good boy.”

He swears he saw stars, as soon as you finish your sentence he cums with a loud moan, glossy eyes watching your juices spill on his designer jeans.

Your hands come up to his torso, caressing up and down while your lips pepper kisses down his neck.

“Now how about that reward?”

a / n : sub taesan propaganda will live on join us!! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING ANON 🤍

from delivering big props for different departments to holding the heavy pole steady while other guys marked where the portable stage lights should be placed, if any hard work or heavy lifting had to be done, sunghoon was their guy.

he worked tirelessly that week, not getting rest even during the day of the anniversary itself because he was also tasked with taking photos of the event along with the rest of the photography club.

so instead of roaming around the wide university plaza with his girlfriend and your shared group of friends, sunghoon exhausted himself by running to different booths, back and forth to the main stage in hopes of getting proper shots—all without a single complaint.

the blistering heat of the sun, the lack of rest from nights he spent awake trying to get his academic responsibilities done, on top of the the extra-curricular activities he'd been burdened with naturally took a toll on him.

he woke up one morning and just couldn't find any strength to move.

his sinuses were clogged. pain throbbed in the sides of his head like a firm ball constantly being bounced against the walls of his skull. being in a thin shirt felt too warm, too stuffy. even lifting a finger was far too heavy to carry than the weighted disks he used to bench.

days bled, one into the other.

sunghoon had lost his concept of time, and he didn't bother checking his clock anymore. all he knew was he'd open his eye to see jake leaving him his medicine for the night, and after a blink, they'd be greeting him goodbye to head to uni with sunlight peaking from behind his blackout curtains.

the only constant, the only string to reality he had left in his current state was you.

from: pengoo. 🐧 — angel anglelleee from: pengoo. 🐧 — show me ur pretty fa from: pengoo. 🐧 — face from: pengoo. 🐧 — pls pls pretty pleseas from: pengoo. 🐧 — please* :( from: pengoo. 🐧 — imy and everything hurts from: pengoo. 🐧 — a picture of you would heal me rn. i know it will.

sunghoon's texts come back to back, making several dings in your quiet apartment.

he's been sick for four days now, and though you've offered multiple times to come visit him, he's always turned you down sternly, too afraid of infecting you with whatever plague he had.

but he's still sunghoon: persistent and just a little more clingy and emotional when he's sick like this. which is why he wanted—no, needed—to have you on facetime as much as possible.

"no," he said, compressed tissues stuffed up his nostrils. you could hear each breath he took clearly through the speaker, each heavy and labored exhales rasping through the bottom of your phone.

despite the graininess of the video call, you could still see the faint-blue tint of his stubbles—shadows of his unmaintained beard that made his sickly complexion somehow look sharper, the blood-shot eyes that were fighting to stay open just so he could look at you despite the obvious signs of exhaustion.

it was a sad, sad sight. and the bags under his eyes from his lack of proper sleep completed the miserable visage, enough to effectively crumple your heart to pieces.

you barrage him with one worried question after the other. "are you sure, love? you look like you haven't been sleeping well. are you eating? are the boys making sure you're taking your medicine at the right time?"

"'m fine, angel.. jus.. need to hear ya say.. that you love me." sunghoon reasoned with pauses to breathe after every word his mouth slurred.

"i love you, hoonie. now go take a rest, please? you won't get better if you keep fighting your body."

"n–no.." his thick eyebrows drew together, the screen shaking a bit as he repositioned himself to sit up. he leaned his back against stacked pillows, forcing his eyes to gain clarity just for a moment so he could properly see at you. "say it again for me. please."

"i love you."

he hummed, a weak, dopey smile tugging upward on his lips. "i love you too, angel.. tell me what happened today."

you kept talking to him about random things that happened in uni while doing your homework and his body slowly shifted lower and lower while listening as intently as he could until he was lying back down on the bed.

after two hours of yapping your heart out, you turned to your camera and noticed that sunghoon was already asleep.

his hand was surprisingly steady as it held his phone to his face, like he wanted to keep talking to you despite being so deep in his subconscious already.

you couldn't bring yourself to end the call so you also laid in bed, adoring every little sleepy grunt and quiet whispers of your name as you watched sunghoon dream of you.

you raise your hand, knocking your knuckles once against the familiar door.

it opens quietly with a surprised jay and jake (or two j, as you affectionately like to call them) meeting you on the other side.

you press an index finger to your mouth, slowly stepping inside. "where's sunghoon?" you whisper, taking your shoes off as quietly as you can while jay saunters over to their kitchen with the big bag you brought along with you.

"he's in his room. sicko never really went out today other than to shower."

"yeah, and we tried to get him to eat but the most he'd swallow is like.. three spoons of rice." jake whispered from your side, anxiously looking over at sunghoon's door.

you let out a small sigh and followed to their kitchen, shooting jay a grateful smile as he proactively heated up the soup you'd made for your boyfriend.

"this is too much for him, you know." jay starts.

you take out three big bowls from their cupboard, shrugging. "i made enough for the three of you."

jake watches jay scoop out a portion for the both of them, lips parted at the mouthwatering visual. "i'm not gonna hold you, Y/N—this looks fire as hell. and i'm thankful i get to reap the benefits of sunghoon having an amazing girlfriend… but why? we've been eating just fine."

you move around their kitchen with ease, already familiar with the layout and location of the utensils you need to make a tray for sunghoon. "consider it an appreciation gift. i just assumed it wasn't easy taking care of the guy. i heard him snapping at you over facetime the other night, you know."

jake nods with a hand over his chest, sighing dramatically. "god forbid a guy asks his best friend to make legos."

"he never agreed to do that when you asked him while he was mentally sound. did you think he'd agree to it when he was sick?"

"i thought he might be more open to the idea of spending quality time with me!"

jay snorts. "the only person he's been whining to have quality time with is her so maybe let it go."

he takes out sunghoon's routine medicine and slips them to the side of the tray while you scoop out a more generous portion of the soup into a bowl, even neatly garnishing it with a proud smile on your face.

"go have dinner, you two. i'll take over taking care of hoon now."

you slip inside his room quiet as a mouse.

your boyfriend had his back turned to the door, black tshirt stretching across the expanse of his shoulders. he's curled into a fetal position, blanket tucked under his arm with one of his legs sticking out of the thick material as his body purposelessly searches for both warmth and coldness at the same time.

you take a small step forward and it makes a creak, causing sunghoon to shift slightly.

his tired voice echos out, grumpy because you've been indirectly ignoring his calls and texts all afternoon. "go away, jake. i told you i didn't want to play with your stupid fucking legos."

"now that's not a nice way to talk to jake, is it? no wonder he's sad."

sunghoon's eye widens at the sound of your voice and he sits up in a split second before clutching his head as the sharp, electric pain shoots up to his temple just as quickly.

he's convinced what he heard has been a hallucination. that he's been too sick from both missing his girlfriend and whatever was contaminating his system.

"a–angel?" sunghoon calls out tentatively, eyes screwed shut in pain.

you walk to the side of the bed, laying the tray down gently on the floor before wrapping your arms around his hunched figure. despite his decreased ability to smell, he was able to pick up a faint scent of your perfume and that was enough for him to be put at ease.

"god.. why did you go here? i— i told you not to come. you're going to get s–sick too." sunghoon sniffled.

your palm cradles his flushed cheeks, your lips parting at just how warm he was. "the boys told me your fever wasn't going down quickly enough and that you weren't eating. i was worried, hoonie."

sunghoon's eyes remain shut as he chased after the softness of your hand, his own coming up to keep it close to his face. "mm.. i just didn't have the appetite. and i missed my girlfriend too much to worry about eating."

"that's exactly why you're still sick."

"so don't nag me when i'm already sick."

"i'll nag you whenever i want, park. especially when you blindly push your body to the limit." you mutter, pulling your hand away and guiding him to sit up against the headboard. you cross your arms over your chest. "i told you to say no to those pesky student officers didn't i?"

"they needed help, angel." he argued weakly.

"yeah, and they were also taking advantage of your kindness." you huffed through your nose, shooting him a frustrated glare. "never do that again. never. you hear me?"

sunghoon flinches and nods his head slowly, eyes downturned as he sniffs once. then his voice comes out smaller, more unsure. "a.. a–are you mad at me?"

"i'm—" you bite your lip, regretting the pointedness of your tone as you watch guilt wash over sunghoon's tired face. you take a deep breath in, urging yourself to calm down before talking softer. "i'm not, hoonie.. i'm sorry. i've just been.. worried sick about you. i don't want you putting yourself through this kind of pain again."

he just nods, lips forming into a pout as he silently opens his arms. "if you're not mad.. then hug me. please?"

he requests it in such a tiny, soft voice that you can't help but wrap your arms around him, letting him press his nose against your shoulder while you rub soothing circles on his back, whispering quiet apologies against his hair.

"i'm sorry, baby. i'm sorry. i won't do it again." you soothe him until he's the one peeling himself off of you.

"it's okay.. i kinda deserved it. i just wanted to be helpful."

"i know you did. but now you're sick and you have to take care of yourself." it's then that you pick up the tray from the floor, balancing it atop your crossed legs before showing it to sunghoon. "and that starts by eating something proper."

"you.. made this? for me?" sunghoon's eyes twinkle as he looks at the soup and spread of side dishes on the tray.

"mhm. asked my mom for a recipe. it took a couple of days and even more tries than that but.. it's all worth it." your smile is wide and proud as you take a spoonful of soup, a hand cupped under it while guiding it to sunghoon's parted lips. "say ahhhh."

he takes it all and you continue to beam as his smile widens as well.

you continue to carefully feed him despite him stubbornly arguing he could do it himself. he relents and parts his lips weakly, and you wipe the corner of his lips with your thumb, making small talk to keep him entertained.

he just listens to you animatedly rant about the small errors that happened in your cooking attempts, still silent as he usually is. but the small smile on his lips, no matter how weak, lets you know that sunghoon is savoring every drop of extra attention he could have from you.

you turn your back to him for one second to grab some tissues and the next thing you know, he's hanging his head again, sniffling and roughly wiping tears with the back of his hand while he chews.

the soup is delicious, sunghoon thinks.

he couldn't taste much—considering his current state—but he knows its well-seasoned. he imagines how tired you must have been to be doing all that work after class, how desperate you were to call your mom just so you could make something for your sick boyfriend.

every chew of the soft chicken made him feel cozy, fuzzy, akin to the feeling he got whenever he slipped under the sheets after a long, tiring day. and the fact that he could taste the time and effort you put into it warms sunghoon's body from the inside out.

for a very brief moment, all the pain he's feeling is gone, replaced with the overwhelming, borderline-suffocating love and gratefulness he has in his heart that it just all pours out of him in the form of a stifled sob.

you watch him blindly reach out to you and you hurriedly put the finished tray back down before sighing.

"oh, my pengoo.." you hold his hand, brushing his hair back with the other before wiping his tears.

his glassy eyes stare at you and it tells you everything you need to know.

he doesn't need to explain further, because you've also grown familiar to that feeling. because you've felt it multiple times from how much sunghoon has taken good care of you as well. seeing him cry happy tears is enough to make your eyes water too.

"i love you. i— i'm sorry. i don't know why i'm c–crying… i just love you so much—" he says in between sobs, wetting your shoulder with his tears as you take him into your arms again. "i fucking love you, angel. i'm g–grateful for you. i'm grateful for the world because it led me back to you. thank you, thank you, i don't know how else to say it—"

"shhh. i love you too. and i'm lucky to be the one who gets to see you and take care of you like this." you whisper, kissing the side of his head, lips grazing the shell of his ear each time you spoke.

sunghoon only sobbed harder, muscular arms wrapping tighter around your waist to get you impossibly closer to him. he kept muffling sweet professions of love against your skin. how he can't believe you'd put in this much effort for him, and how he's definitely going to prove to you he deserved being taken care of like this once he's all better.

"the fact that you love me, and that i love you, is enough to prove you deserve this and more, pengoo. but if you want to do that, you have to drink your medicine now. the sooner you get better, the sooner you can take care of me too, right?"

you hated that you were taking advantage of his vulnerable state, but you knew sunghoon—who was an avid hater of taking any sort of bitter supplements—would only accept it right now so you quickly pushed him a glass of water with one hand, the other holding three medicinal tablets atop your open palm.

he took it all without question, adam's apple slowly bobbing as he swallowed the medicine with a slight grimace on his pretty face. you smiled proudly and whispered praises, patting his head.

it was enough to make sunghoon cry again, arms instinctively reaching out for you like a child.

"you did so good, pengoo. so so good. i know you'll get better soon. i love you, mkay? i love you."

you held him close and kept whispering the same words over and over while running your hand through sunghoon's hair until his tears turned into sniffles. until the sniffles turned into quiet peace. he probably got drowsy after eating and crying so much that he just passed out in your arms.

you wanted to move, but you couldn't risk interrupting what was probably the most meaningful sleep he's been able to get thus far, so you just gently scoot down until you're both properly lying down.

you gently position sunghoon's head until it's laid on your chest, and you hear him whine sleepily. he looked for you even in his slumber, whispering your name quietly, built arms coiling around your waist like he was scared you'd vanish if he didn't hold you tight enough.

you just laughed and combed your fingers through his jet black hair, giving his forehead a kiss until his breathing evened out.

sunghoon's eyes fluttered open slowly to a pillow replacing the spot he knows you should've been in.

his head isn't too foggy anymore. there's no constant dull pulsing behind his eyes, and he could breathe so much better now. still, his body refused to move the way he wanted to. still sluggish, like his muscles couldn't catch up to the orders his brain was making.

he was starting to worry that everything had been a very happy dream, something his brain compensated him with in return for all the sleepless night full of agony he went through.

but he still tastes the broth in his mouth, and when he touched his forehead, he could feel a cooling pad there. something neither of his bestfriends would be smart enough to give him.

"angel?" he calls out.

he hears a pattering of footsteps to his room before you come in with that soft smile you always seem to wear around him. "hoonie, you're up. feeling better yet, big boy?"

you sit on the edge of the bed and sunghoon shivers when he feels the back of your hand press against his neck. "mhm.. why are your hands so cold?"

"one, i just finished washed the dishes. and two, because you're still warm. more stable than you were a while ago but i think you still need to rest some more." you settle on the bed next to him, pulling out his laptop from under his pillow. "you wanna watch a movie?"

the laptop is in front of sunghoon's spread legs with yours outside of his. you would normally be the one in front with your back pressed against his chest but you wanted to indulge his need to be as close to you as possible so you decided to flip the roles. just for tonight.

his bigger frame wasn't too much of an obstruction but you definitely had to lean to the side if you wanted a better view of the screen. and yes, the way the both of you were positioned like right now was a little embarrassing, and if anyone walked in, they'd probably laugh at how much of a baby sunghoon looked like leaning against your smaller figure.

you didn't care though, and neither did he.

it felt good being the little spoon. your arms were wrapped around his waist, and your chin was hooked on his shoulder. that's all he could ever ask for right now.

both of you watch the movie, just basking in the familiar routine. sunghoon would grunt under his breath if he ever felt your hand leaving his, snatching your wrist back until your fingers locked together again.

"you're extra clingy." you murmur, tip of your nose brushing against his nape.

sunghoon huffed. "and you're extra annoying when you don't allow me to bask in my girlfriend's touch when you know i've been deprived of it for nearly a week."

you steal a kiss on the rough skin of his jaw, grinning before shooting him the million dollar question: "then would you let me kiss you?"

sunghoon's taken back, and he sputters for an answer for the first few seconds before settling with a quiet no while shaking his head.

"why not?"

he blinks a few times, fiddling with his thumb before he clears his throat. "because i'm sick! and then you'll get sick, angel. you know i'd.. n–never turn that down—but not when i'm risking your health. i can't be as selfish as that."

you're persistent, breaking down his resolve by pressing your chest further against his back. "but i want a kiss right now, hoonie."

heat creeps up his neck, and while he's very fucking tempted to just throw it all out the window, the hypothetical image of you miserably lying in bed and drowning in cold sweat just like he had been was enough to make him reject the idea.

but even though his mouth says one thing, his body is saying another.

it knew how much he'd been craving for you. the image of kissing you, the way you sound when you're breathless and still asking for more—it was more than enough to get blood rushing to his cock. your breathy pleading so close against his ear and your cool fingertips running up and down his stomach weren't helping either.

your eyes catch the tiny bulge forming under his pajamas and you muffle your laughter against his jaw. "okay, no kisses on the lips," you concede. "but let me take care of you. of that."

his eyes widen, big palms attempting to cover the evidence of his arousal but it was too late. "i can just—"

the protest died in his throat as you slowly trail open-mouthed kisses down the sharp curve of his jaw.

he tried to ignore it. sunghoon willed himself to keep his eyes focused on the laptop's screen instead of the your lips brushing featherlight against his nape. instead of the cold sensation of your fingers pushing up his shirt and tracing the faint indented lines of his abs.

"it's okay. i just want to make my hoonie feel better. this feels good doesn't it?"

"ye—yeah." his voice broke when you move his hand away, pressing you palm against his bulge and rubbing it further against the cotton of his pajama pants. you push it down until his cock is revealed, making sunghoon hiss as the cool air of the room kisses the firmness of his already-damp cock. "fuck…"

you continue to trace lazy shapes on his hips while you held the base of his cock, giving it a few squeezes, slow stroking his thick, meaty cock until it grew even harder.

no wonder your soft boyfriend turned into a different man in bed.

having this much power and control over him, seeing him pathetically chase after your hand was seriously addicting. and hearing the low, breathy whines of your name as he begged for more only pushed you further into the intoxicating headspace.

sunghoon kept whimpering under his breath, hips weakly pushing upward to meet the pump of your hand but you kept him in place, biting the shell of his ear. "quit moving, baby. let me do all the work for you."

sunghoon's chest trembles as he takes in a breath through gritted teeth. he fists the blanket until his knuckles turned white, every muscle tensed as he urged himself to keep still. "okay.. just— p–please, angel. i'm so hard.. it hurts."

"i know it does. it looks like it does." his cock was burning hot and angrily throbbing in your hand. the thick veins of it were popping out as your thumb played with the crown of his cock, the rough pad of it rubbing against the slit and smearing the beads of his precum messily against the sensitive flesh.

you rub your palm against the tip until it was glistening, lubricated enough to properly stroke him. his eyes are unfocused and he's losing more and more control of his muscles the more you squeezed on his length that he has no other choice but to lean his head back against your shoulder.

gooseflesh rose in his skin when you held his jaw and locked it in is place, as if you wanted him to watch, to feel every deliberate move you made to ruin him: lips that bite at the pale skin of his neck which tasted faintly of mint body wash and salty sweat. nails that lightly brushed the sides of his cock—not enough to hurt, but enough to make him release spurts of precum that dripped off of the back of your hand.

you couldn't help but giggle against his neck. "the doors aren't locked.. and if the boys think you're in pain then they'll come barging in. do you really want that, hoonie?" you purr comes out low and sultry, making your boyfriend whine louder.

it was a blatant lie, but it was fun seeing sunghoon squirm and bite on his lips to muffle his own noises.

he's burning up—but for an entirely different reason now.

his cheeks were flushed pink, shell of his ears in an even deeper shade of it. beads of sweat rolled down his neck and you filthily lapped at every drop while darkening the mark you made above his pulse point—all while you maintained your pace, downright pornographic shlick shlick shlicks ringing in his ears each time you tugged on the skin of his cock.

"mmh—b–baby.. hnngh—fuck, it hurts.. h–hurts so good, angel.." sunghoon whimpered, voice still dry and raspy. you tried to pin sunghoon's hips down but he was far too needy, chasing after your hand with breathy pleads of your name.

"yeah? can't even keep yourself still for me, can you? could feel you throbbing against my palm, baby." you squeeze your hands tighter around his cock, causing his hips to falter in surprise but only for a quick second before he went back to fucking your fist like its the only thing he knew how to do.

"i want to.. hnn—can't—" his fingers wrapped around your wrist, keeping it in place. he bit on the tip of his tongue when you rubbed the leaking slit of his cock again, only to let go of it completely.

his eyes fluttered open but before he could even ask, you reached lower, giving his balls a tender squeeze.

his thighs tense up, a small broken moan leaving his swollen lips as his girth pressed against the bottom of his stomach while you continued to massage him, peppering kisses along his shoulder. "did you miss this hoonie? they feel heavier now.. did you need me to touch you that badly?"

he'd tried to touch himself to you. several times already, in fact.

and he hopelessly failed in all of his attempts, lacking the energy and strength to keep rubbing his cock despite how hard it would get at the mere thought of his girlfriend.

but now you're here, touching him and relieving all the aching frustrations he's had and it's taking sunghoon's every last bit of strength not to just explode on the spot.

"yes— f–fuck, yes," he nods, quick and frantic. his cock woefully searched for some sort of friction, bouncing against his pelvis each time it twitched due to your lack of attention. "can't— c–couldn't do it without you angel— please.. i need you to touch me again."

sunghoon begged, pleaded as loud as he could without actually disturbing his roommates. his pride was nowhere to be found, mind overtaken by pleasure to even dwell on the fact that he was letting you have control.

and while the idea of breaking him down until he was a babbling mess graced your mind, you could tell sunghoon was desperate, already with tears in his eyes, so you made the decision not to delay it any longer.

slender finger wrapped around his length again, giving the base a testing squeeze before you started pumping your hand quickly, not giving sunghoon a chance to be eased into it.

"shit—f–fuck! angel—" he leaned further back, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you twist your wrist, making more quiet whimpers escape his parted lips.

the tip of his cock had turned a heated shade of maroon from all the build-up you've done, and using your fingers, you made a tight ring just below it and squeezed with just enough pressure that you knew would get him undone.

"nnh… i c–can't— 'm gonna— f–fuck!"

translucent while ropes exploded out, landing messily all over sunghoon's black shirt and partly exposed stomach. you kept stroking him until he rode out his orgasm, milking out every last drop until his debauched whimpers turned more high-pitched from the overstimulation.

you gracefully let him go and brought your cum-stained hand closer to his face, tongue tracing the shell of his ear. "messy hoonie.. look at what you did."

but he tried to, but he couldn't. he felt dizzy, dishonored, and something akin to shame brewed within his chest as he seated with the fact that he enjoyed what just happened a little too much.

he just grabbed your hand and forced it to press against his shirt until all evidence of his submission was smudged against the fabric of it before turning around to bury his flushed face against your chest.

you coo, giggling heartily at sunghoon before running your fingers through his hair.

you place a soft kiss on the crown on his head, gently kicking the laptop to the side while you let the sound of the long-forgotten rom-com movie play in the background while you lull your sick sunghoon back to sleep.

YAN'S NOTES ➤ this sat in my inbox for quite a while and i've been meaning to get to this after several wips were done but i fear i'm a sucker for the e404 series and it's seriously the only thing that gets me out of a slump. also?? first time writing sub!member on here and of course Of Fucking Course it had to be sunghoon. lmk what u think pls < 3

PERM TAGLIST ➤  @mariegibeau @kristynaaah @ikeukiss @alex-is-sleeping @ntxs1 @angelhyuka @tsukheeshima @clxssy1997 @strawberrykkk1 @cripplinghooman @xoxo-seraphine @1800aegi

taesan squinted his eyes as the cellar door opened, moonlight pouring into the otherwise dark space. he watched as you ascended the steps, licking your lips and eyeing him down.

“good evening. how’ve you been?” 

taesan shook his head and grasped the bars of his cell. “please. please, let me out. i promise i won’t run away.” 

“no, you won’t.” you said with a smile, reaching between the bars and caressing his cheek. “no, you’re too easily persuaded, aren’t you?”

taesan felt his thoughts dissolve into fog as he looked into your eyes, a haze overtaking him. “yes.” 

“and you’d do anything to make me happy. wouldn’t you, dear?” 

“i would do anything to make you happy.” taesan echoed. “are you hungry, mistress?” 

“mm, starving.” you unlocked the cell door as taesan stepped back, allowing you to enter. he closed his eyes and shivered as you circled him, coming to a stop behind him. you nuzzled his neck, inhaling softly. “you smell utterly delicious, taesan. god, the things you do to me…” 

“please…” taesan whimpered, turning his head to look into your eyes. “show me, mistress.” 

you smirked and licked against the skin of his neck slowly, a trail of saliva from behind his ear to his collarbone. “so delectable.” then you finally did it, sinking your fangs into the soft flesh. 

taesan let out a moan, falling back against you as he felt an intense wave of ecstasy fill his veins. it was so addicting, no matter how many times you’ve done it. how many times have you done it? taesan glanced down at his body, seeing fading and fresh puncture marks along his exposed skin. how long had he been down here, exactly?

taesan felt you clamp down harder, pulling him from his thoughts. “m-mistress…” the pain was starting to set in, dull and uncomfortable. 

you pulled away with a sigh, licking the area clean. “mm, sorry, love. i almost got carried away again.” you looked into his eyes. “but you forgive me. right, dear?”

taesan felt himself nod. “of course. i know you didn’t mean to.” 

“awe, darling… i just feel awfully terrible about it. is there any way at all that i could make it up to you?” you lilted, moving your hands down to his waist. 

“can i…” taesan gulped. “can i touch you, mistress?” 

“oh? you want to touch me?” you kissed the shell of his ear and grabbed his hand, placing it on your arm. “there.” 

“not… like that.” 

“like how then?” you asked, raking your nails down his sides.

taesan gulped again. “uh–uh–”

“use your words, love.” you murmured, hand ghosting over his erect dick. 

“i wanna touch your body. your boobs, everything.” taesan breathed, his cheeks warming. 

you turned him around in your arms, steadying him as the movement set him off balance. “there you go. that’s all you had to say, dear.” 

taesan watched, his mouth dry, as you slowly began to undress. you started by unbuttoning your blouse, your boobs immediately spilling out. taesan’s breath hitched and you giggled. “oops, forgot to wear a bra. you don’t mind, do you?”

taesan quickly shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. you continued stripping, sliding your jean shorts down your legs and slipping out of your panties. taesan stared at you in all your naked glory, his dick growing more and more stiff by the second. 

“awe, looks like someone’s happy to see me.” you cooed, getting on your knees and grabbing his dick. taesan groaned as you licked and nibbled at the tip. “so cute.” 

you bit down harder, your fangs piercing the skin. taesan winced and gasped as you sucked him off, precum and blood mixing together on your tongue. you grabbed taesan’s hand, placing it on your head. taesan gently gripped your hair, letting out gasps and grunts as you bobbed your head up and down on his dick. as you latched your fangs onto the side of his dick, another wave of pleasure washed over taesan and before he knew what was happening, cum spurted out of his dick onto your bare chest. taesan’s legs trembled with ecstasy and exhaustion as you licked his dick one last time before standing up and taking his hand. 

“how would you like to leave this cell, love?” 

taesan’s eyes widened. “wait, really?”

you smiled. “let’s go to my bedroom. it’d be more comfortable there.” you hooked your arms underneath his thighs and picked him up. taesan barely had the chance to blink before he found himself in your bedroom, laying on your bed.

“what–” 

“vampire, remember? i’ve got all sorts of abilities.” you said, hovering over him and running your hands up his sides. “now then… you said you wanted to touch me, right?”

taesan had almost forgotten. “oh–yeah.” 

“...well?” you smirked.

taesan felt himself blush and he reached up and grabbed your boobs, kneading the flesh. “fuck…” 

“you’re doing so well, love.” you sighed, grinding your bare cunt against his dick.

“a-ah…” taesan moaned, the head of his dick getting caught in between your folds. 

“wanna be inside me?” 

“god, yes, please.” taesan cried, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. 

you giggled and grabbed his dick, aligning himself with your entrance before sinking down. taesan let out a loud moan, feeling how tight you were around him. “y-you’re so fucking tight, mistress.”

“another ability. you like?” you smirked, snaking your hand up to rest on his throat. 

“yes, yes.” taesan gasped, pulling on you so your boobs were closer to his face. he latched onto one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around it while he tweaked your other nipple with his fingers.

you moaned and raised up on his dick before slamming back down. taesan whimpered, the feeling of your walls around him so tight and warm. it felt like your cunt was sucking his life force away. maybe it was. 

taesan alternated between sucking on each of your boobs as you rode him, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. “mistress, i don’t–i don’t think i’m gonna last v-very long–oh!”

“that’s alright, love. we have all night.” taesan’s head swam with the implications. “cum for me.”

with a few more of your bounces on his cock, taesan felt the tightness in his stomach releasing as he pumped you full of his cum. you bit his neck as he came, feeding from him and sending another wave of pleasure through him. taesan’s vision turned black and his ears rang as he reached the end of his high, his senses only returning when you broke away from his neck. 

“mm, fuck. i feel so full.” you murmured, peppering kisses along his collarbone.

“i-i’m sorry, mistress.”

“don’t be. can’t get pregnant anyway.” you lifted off of his dick.

“really? how–ah!” taesan let out a yelp when you slammed back down on his cock. “w-wait, i’m so sensitive.” 

you looked him in the eyes and smiled. “no, you’re not. you can take it. right, darling?”

taesan slumped against the mattress, melting into the sheets. “i’m not sensitive. i can take whatever you give me.” 

you smiled. “you’re right.” 

ᯓ★

the next day, you did not force taesan to go back into the cellar, much to his relief. the cold and dark ate away at him, even if he wasn’t chained up and was given meals and baths regularly.

“i get bored.” you explained. “why be bored when i have a perfectly good toy right here?”

taesan sat still in the bathtub as you washed him, stood obediently as you dressed him. it was the first time he had worn clothes in so long. it felt foreign. he frowned and scratched at the fabric.

“i know, love.” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist. “but we can’t have you be naked outside. i promise it’ll only be for a little while.” outside? 

“why are we leaving?” 

“i have an errand to run. why? would you rather stay here?” 

taesan shook his head.

“good. besides, someone has to carry the grocery bags and it will not be me.” 

“i will do as you ask, mistress.” 

you smiled. “i know.” 

taesan thought he’d be excited to see the outside world. standing in the toiletry aisle, he was incredibly overwhelmed. there were so many people, so many sounds. the lights were bright, and the wheels of the grocery cart squeaked with every movement. he tugged on your sleeve. “mistress, can we go back soon?”

you smiled warmly at him. “there’s just one more thing on the list, then we’ll be done.” you leaned down and grabbed a bottle of shampoo. “and… done.”

taesan breathed a sigh of relief and followed you to the self checkout. as you scanned your items, taesan began feeling paranoid. like someone was watching him. his eyes darted around until they landed on a man who looked about his age, staring at him with shock apparent on his face. he approached taesan. 

“taesan…?” now that the man was closer, taesan recognized him. it was his best friend, leehan. “oh my god… we have been worried sick. it’s been, like, six months. where have you been? you just… disappeared.” 

taesan looked at you nervously, who had already noticed the other man. leehan noticed you and narrowed his eyes at you. “taesan, who’s this woman?”

“my mistress.” 

“what–mistress?” leehan shook his head. “taesan, i’m getting bad vibes from that woman. please, let me take you home. your parents are worried sick.” 

“i am home. my mistress is my home.” 

leehan’s brows furrowed as he grabbed taesan’s wrist. “taesan–” 

“darling, i’m ready to leave.” you cooed, placing a hand on taesan’s waist. “would you please grab the bags for me?”

taesan gave leehan one last look before twisting out of his grip. “i’m right where i need to be, leehan. don’t look for me.” 

and with that, taesan grabbed your grocery bags and walked out of the store with you, not looking back even once.

The only thing more tedious than watching football practice was waiting for it to end. You’d been camped on these cold metal bleachers for what felt like a decade, your heel tapping out a bored rhythm against the hollow frame.

The speaker of your phone hummed softly, your last defence against the monotony. Down on the pitch, a swarm of guys in identical jerseys ran themselves ragged.

Your best friend, Yang Jungwon, was in the thick of it, covered in grass stains and giving 110%. You loved him, but you didn't love his commitment to extracurriculars that involved this much yelling. You watched him shout for a pass, his face a mask of determined effort.

And then there was Park Sunghoon.

Watching him was what made you irk. While Jungwon and the others fought and heaved, Sunghoon looked like he’d just stepped out of a sportswear commercial. He wasn't even trying. That was the most infuriating part.

A light sheen of sweat on his brow only made him look more polished, not less. He controlled the ball with effortless, almost bored precision, weaving through defenders who were actually trying. He didn't look like he was fighting for a spot; he looked like he was doing everyone a favour by just being there—a natural, high-performance machine on a field of hard-working cars.

He scored without even breaking a sweat, offering a cool, casual high-five to a teammate as if it were nothing. He was flying through the motions, but he was never really here. Not like Jungwon was. Not like the others who cared.

The final whistle blew, a sharp, shrill sound that cut through the evening air. Like a spell breaking, the intense focus on the field dissolved into relieved slumps and loud, happy chatter. You shoved your phone and speaker into your bag, standing up to leave before the crowd could get too thick.

Jungwon was laughing, clapping a friend on the back as he started jogging toward the bleachers. "Y/N! You waited!"

As you begin to walk towards Jungwon to meet him in the middle, your path to him is blocked by the very source of your irritation.

Park Sunghoon blocked you as he took a long drink from a water bottle, his head tilted back. He lowered it, and his eyes, dark and frustratingly clear, landed on you. A faint, unreadable flicker passed through them before the corner of his lips pulled up into a smirk.

“L/N,” he acknowledged, his voice even, not winded. “Didn’t know you were a fan of football.”

The comment was neutral, but you heard the subtle tease in it.

You practically scoff at his words with rolling eyes. Crossing your arms as you glare up at him, physically tilting your head to actually look at him. "I'm a fan of people who actually try."

His hand stills, the bottle pausing halfway to his lips. One of his thick brows arched upwards. "Oh? What does that mean?"

"It means that while everyone else is out there giving their all, working as a team, you're just... breezing through it," you shot back, your voice tight with a frustration that surprised even you. You gestured vaguely toward the field, where players were still panting, hands on their knees. "You don't look like you're playing. You look like you're bored at a photoshoot. It's like you're not even really here."

The smirk on his face didn't falter; if anything, it grew a fraction wider, more challenging. He took a slow, deliberate sip of water, making you wait for his response. It was a power move, and it made your jaw clench.

He practically laughed at your words. “Aw, thanks, L/N. You saying I'm a model?” He mocked.

“That's not what I mean–” your face was flushed at the way you realised you really did compliment him while trying to insult him.

"And you deduced all that from your VIP seat in the bleachers?" he asked, his tone laced with a condescending amusement that made your skin prickle. "Tell me, L/N, what does 'trying' look like to you? Running around like a headless chicken? Getting red in the face and shouting?"

He shook his head, a lock of his damp hair falling across his forehead. "Efficiency isn't a lack of effort. It's just a smarter effort."

"Efficiency?" you echoed, the word tasting bitter. "Is that what you call it? It looks like arrogance."

For the first time, a flicker of something genuine, annoyance? Passed through his dark eyes. He took a half-step closer, and you were suddenly acutely aware of the height difference, the faint scent of grass and clean sweat. "Maybe you should worry less about how I play and more about why it bothers you so much."

Your mouth fell open slightly, but no sound came out. He had effectively turned the spotlight back on you, and you hated it.

You hated the way he slowly straightened back up, his smirk never wavering, as if he’d already won a game you didn’t even know you were playing. But most of all, you hated the traitorous flutter that beat against your ribs when he’d bent down to meet your eyes. It was a single, rebellious heartbeat that echoed far too loudly in the space between you.

And of course, he noticed. His dark eyes, sharp and perceptive, tracked the subtle heat you felt rising in your cheeks. The sight only widened his smirk into something more triumphant, more knowing. It was a look that got you.

"Y/N! Sunghoon-hyung!"

Jungwon's voice sliced through the thick tension, a welcome lifeline. He skidded to a halt beside you, his cheerful grin dissolving into concern as his eyes darted between your flushed face and Sunghoon’s infuriatingly composed one. "Uh, everything okay here?"

Sunghoon’s eyes held yours for a heartbeat longer, a silent promise that this isn’t over. Before he turned the full force of his effortless charm on your best friend. The shift was so seamless it was dizzying, leaving you emotionally whiplashed.

"Everything's fine, Jungwon," Sunghoon said, his voice now all easy-going lightness. He clapped a hand on Jungwon's shoulder, the picture of casual camaraderie. "L/N was just sharing her... unique perspective on team dynamics." His gaze flickered back to you, and the knowing glint returned. "See you around."

But you didn't miss it. As he turned to leave, he dropped the wink, a quick, deliberate, and utterly maddening gesture meant for you and you alone. A secret shared in a crowd.

And with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there, a confusing mess of fury and fluster, with Jungwon staring at you as if you’d just grown a second head.

"What was that about?" Jungwon asked, his eyes wide with bewildered curiosity.

You watched Sunghoon's retreating back, his posture still perfectly composed as if the entire confrontation had been nothing more than a mild diversion. "Nothing," you muttered, finally tearing your gaze away, your heart still doing that stupid, uneven rhythm against your will. "He's just... insufferable."

But even as you said it, his final question echoed in your mind, a taunt that burrowed deep under your skin, unsettling you more than any arrogant retort ever could:

"Why does it bother you so much?"

Jungwon let out a low whistle, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. "Wow. I've never seen him engage like that before. He usually just ignores people he doesn't like." He bumped his shoulder gently against yours, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Did you just become the exception to the Park Sunghoon rule? What did you even say to him?"

"I just told him the truth," you grumbled, finally turning to walk away from the field, desperate to put distance between you and the memory of that wink. Jungwon fell into step beside you. "That he doesn't even try out there. That he just coasts on talent and expects everyone to be impressed."

"Ah," Jungwon said, understanding dawning. "You questioned his perfection. That's a cardinal sin in Sunghoon's world." He laughed, nudging your shoulder lightly with a laugh.

"It's not perfection, it's arrogance!" you insisted, the frustration bubbling up again.

"Tomato, tomahto," Jungwon sang, clearly enjoying your flustered state. "But for what it's worth, you're wrong. He does try. He's just so good it looks easy. The coaches have to design whole new drills just to challenge him." 

He glanced at you, his expression turning more serious. "And the pressure on him is insane. His whole family is basically a dynasty of overachievers.” He hummed softly.

“Maybe the whole 'emotionless' thing is just how he deals with it." 

You frowned, letting Jungwon's words sink in. It was a perspective you hadn't considered, and it irritated you almost as much as Sunghoon himself did.

"Whatever," you sighed, wanting to change the subject. "I'm just glad I don't have to see him again until... well, hopefully never."

—

It seemed the universe had a personal vendetta against your dreams.

The following week had been a blur of all-nighters and frantic typing. Any hope of attending Jungwon's practices had been obliterated the moment your film professor had dropped a twin nightmare: a 5000-word essay on the history of film and an accompanying 7-minute short film. Both were due today.

Now, with the digital clock in the corner of your screen glaring a merciless 11:47 PM, you were only 1000 words into the essay. Panic was a live wire under your skin, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs as you typed furiously, the keys clacking a desperate SOS into the silent, dim room.

And then, as if summoned by your stress, your phone buzzed on the desk—a violent, jarring vibration that skittered right through your bones.

You flinched, your train of thought derailing completely. With a frustrated groan, you grabbed the offending device. The screen burned with a notification you did not have the mental capacity to deal with.

SUBJECT: CREATE A BRAND - PROJECT PAIRING CONFIRMATION

As your eyes widen at the message. An email from your business professor about another project, you hadn't checked the pairings yet. You'd been too busy panicking rather than starting your work.

Jungwon sat on the floor of your living room, his own hands typing furiously at his computer, trying to deadline fight like you were.

"What is it?" Jungwon asked, noticing your sudden stillness.

With a trembling thumb, you tapped the notification. The document loaded slowly, each second stretching into an eternity. It was a list of names. You scrolled, your eyes frantically scanning for yours.

And then you found it.

Your worst nightmare.

TEAM 5:

Y/N L/N

PARK SUNGHOON

The world tilted. Your breath hitched. The phone nearly slipped from your suddenly numb fingers.

"No," you whispered, the word a choked plea. "No, no, no. This has to be a mistake." You were in shock, a gasp. 

Was this a cruel sign?

"What?" Jungwon grabbed your phone, his eyes widening as he read the screen. A slow, incredulous grin spread across his face.

"No way. You have got to be kidding me. You and Sunghoon-hyung?!" He started to laugh, a full-bodied sound that drew a groan from your lips.

"The universe has a seriously wicked sense of humour!"

You snatched your phone back, staring at the two names side-by-side as if they were a life sentence. Sunghoon's final words echoed in your mind, now laced with a terrifying new meaning.

Sunghoon knew. He must have already seen the pairings. That smirk, that wink... it wasn't just about the argument on the field. It was a promise of battles to come.

“Fuck you, man!” you groaned, dropping your head onto your keyboard with a dull thud, the keys imprinting themselves on your forehead. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not with him

Jungwon’s laughter finally subsided into wheezing chuckles. “Oh, this is priceless. I need to text him.” He immediately reached for his own phone with a wicked smirk.

Your head snapped up. “Don’t you dare, Yang Jungwon! If you text him ‘congratulations’ or something stupid, I will expose every single one of your secrets to the campus. Remember when you said you tested the waters with Jay, getting drunk at a party and jerking–”

He gasped quickly, throwing the pillow he was hugging at your face. “Shut up!” he yelled, though his eyes still sparkled with mischief. “But you know you have to email him, right? Like, now. You’ve got a brand to create. Partners gotta partner.”

The reminder was a bucket of ice water. The business project. The film essay. The short film. It was all crashing down at once. The panic that drowned your head, now forgotten in fear of Sunghoon.

“I can’t,” you whispered, staring at the two names on the screen. 

“I can’t email Park Sunghoon at midnight to talk about a business project while I’m still in my cheetah pyjamas and losing a fight with a history essay on George Méliès!”

“Sure you can,” Jungwon said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Just be professional. ‘Hi Sunghoon, looks like we’re partners. When are you available to meet?’ Easy.”

You rolled your eyes. It was easy for a normal person. But you and Sunghoon had already crossed the line from professional to painfully personal on the football field. Every word would be loaded.

But Jungwon was right. Delaying would only make it worse.

With a sigh that felt like it came from the depths of your soul, you opened your email, your fingers hovering over the keys like they were made of lead.

TO: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Create a Brand Project - Team 5

The cursor blinked in the empty body of the email, mocking you. What could you say? Your mind was blank as you tried your best to figure out what to write.

‘Hey, it’s the girl you love to annoy. Let’s build a brand.’

‘Apparently, fate hates us both. My schedule is attached.’

‘I promise to try reaaaally hard, just for you.’

You deleted each attempt with a frustrated grunt. The click of your finger against the keyboard is loud and aggressive, making Jungwon watch you with arched eyebrows.

After taking a deep breath, you finally settled on something brutally neutral, channelling every ounce of your remaining energy into sounding like you didn’t care.

TO: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Create a Brand Project - Team 5

Park Sunghoon,

Per the attached pairing list, we have been assigned as partners for the "Create a Brand" project. Please advise your availability for an initial meeting this week.

Regards,

Y/N L/N

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, a fresh wave of anxiety washing over you. It was done. The first move was made. You were almost proud of yourself for being the bigger person.

“See? Not so bad,” Jungwon said, trying to be encouraging with a smile; however, a hint of teasing was still behind his eyes.

“He’s probably asleep. I won’t hear back for—”

Your inbox chimed instantly. 1 New Email.

“What the fuck?” Your blood ran cold. No. It wasn’t possible.

With trembling fingers, you opened it.

FROM: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Re: Create a Brand Project - Team 5

Y/N L/N,

How efficient of you. I’m available tomorrow at 8 PM. Library study room 4B.

Don’t be late.

P.S. I trust you’ll be giving your… all to this project.

Park Sunghoon.

You let out a strangled sound, part gasp, part scream. He’d not only been awake, he’d been waiting, almost like he was anticipating the moment to come. And he’d used your own words against you, turning them into a weapon with terrifying precision.

Jungwon peeked over your shoulder, reading the email. He let out another low whistle. “Wow. He really doesn’t let anything go, does he?”

You shoved your phone away, your heart pounding for an entirely different reason than your essay deadline. The battle lines had been drawn, not on a football field, but in a library study room.

And the first revenge was tomorrow at 8 PM.

—

An hour before the meeting, you found yourself doing something utterly pathetic: staring into your closet as if it held the answers to the universe, rather than just fabric and thread. 

Why? 

This was Park Sunghoon we’re talking about.

The human equivalent of a beautifully, emotionally vacant sports car. He probably only recognised five shades of black and the logo of designer brands you couldn’t afford. The idea that you were mentally vetoing your most comfortable clothes for him was absurd.

You could, and should, just throw on some sweatpants and call it a day. But your fingers didn’t reach for the sweatpants. They lingered on a pair of dark jeans. It’s not for him, you told yourself, your cheeks heating with ‘annoyance’. It’s armour, or that's at least what you say to yourself.

Armour.

Right.

But who said armour couldn't be stylish? The best armour was the kind that felt like a second skin. Your fingers bypassed the formal options and landed on the one: an oversized black tee, soft from a hundred washes. It wasn't fancy. It was a perfect, hanging off the shoulders to reveal your deep collar bones, its dark wash a mirror of the jeans you’d already chosen.

You held it up, and a wry, defiant smile touched your lips.

I ♥️ EMO BOYS

The phrase was splashed across the chest in faded, cracked white letters. Perfect. With a few strategic knots tied at the small of your back, the shapeless shirt became something else entirely, hugging your frame, transforming a piece of ironic nostalgia into a statement.

With a final nod to your reflection, you did the rest: a swipe of mascara that turned into two, a dash of lip tint that became a careful application. It was more makeup than you’d usually bother with for a library meeting, and the knowledge sent a fresh wave of self-consciousness through you.

This isn’t for him, you insisted to the girl in the mirror, who looked back with a knowing glint in her eye. This is for you. So you walk in there feeling like you.

The fact that your chosen version of "you" was also a direct, silent rejection of everything Park Sunghoon probably stood for, polished, pristine, emotionless perfection, was just a delicious, convenient bonus.

You grabbed your bag, the soft fabric of your shirt a comforting touch against your skin. You took a steadying breath, your hand on the doorknob.

Showtime.

—

The walk to room 4B felt like the longest of your life. You willed your breath to even out, your posture to scream a confidence you absolutely did not feel. 

Armour, you reminded yourself, the knot of your I ♥️ EMO BOYS shirt suddenly feeling tight against your back.

You rounded the final corner, and there it was. The door was slightly ajar. And he was already looking.

Park Sunghoon’s eyes were on you the second you came into view, as if he’d sensed your approach. He was leaning back in his chair, but there was nothing relaxed about it. It was a pose of cool assessment. 

His gaze didn’t dart or flicker; it swept over you in one slow, deliberate motion, from your chosen shoes, up the knotted tee, to the makeup you’d applied, and you saw the exact moment his brain processed the words on your shirt.

One dark eyebrow arched. Not in anger, but in pure, unadulterated amusement. The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re late,” he said, his voice a low murmur that still managed to cut through the quiet room. 

You dropped your bag onto the table with a heavy thud, refusing to be intimidated by his curated perfection. “The clock on my phone said 7:59,” you retorted, sliding into the seat opposite him. “I’m right on time.”

A slow, infuriating smirk spread across his face. “My watch says 8:01. I suppose it depends on whose time you value more.”

“It’s only by a minute, in your standards.” You hum softly, grabbing your MacBook out of the tote bag you brought.

His eyes flickered down to your shirt, and the smirk widened. “Interesting… declaration.”

Your eyes roll at his words, fingers delicately moving against the keyboard of your laptop, index finger holding down on the on button.

“I ♥️ EMO BOYS,” he read aloud, his voice a low, amused murmur that seemed to vibrate in the silent room. When his eyes finally found yours, the look in them was anything but pure, smouldering provocation. “Is that meant to be a warning, L/N? Or a confession?”

You refused to let him see you squirm, even when his low voice sent a shock down your spine. 

Especially the intense eye contact he was making.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms over the very words he was mocking, which only made his smirk deepen.

“It’s a statement of fact,” you said, your voice impressively steady. “I appreciate a man who isn’t afraid to feel things. Clearly, it’s a concept you’re unfamiliar with.”

It was a direct hit, referencing your entire argument on the field. You saw the flicker in his eyes, the minute tightening of his jaw. The amusement didn’t vanish, but it sharpened, honing into something more challenging.

“Feeling things,” he repeated, as if tasting the words. He leaned forward, folding his arms on the table, invading your space without moving an inch. “You mean like… angst? Dramatic eyeliner? Someone who listens to Pierce the Veil and Three Days Grace? A profound connection to a bass guitar?”

“I mean emotion, Sunghoon. Something that isn’t calculated, polished, or practised. Something real.”

He held your gaze for a long, charged moment. The air between you crackled.

“Real,” he echoed, his voice dropping so only you could hear it. His eyes flicked down to your ‘shirt’ one more time, and this time, the look in them was unreadable; he was oogling at your chest. “And you think that’s real? A mass-produced shirt from a mall?”

He leaned back again, the moment broken, his expression shifting back to one of casual superiority. “It’s not armour, L/N. It’s a target.” He gestured dismissively at his own impeccable, simple black sweater. “Now, are we going to discuss the project, or your questionable taste of men?”

He had turned your own weapon against you. Again. And the worst part was the traitorous thought that whispered he might be right.

—

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, charged with everything that had been said and everything that hadn't. You refused to break it first, stubbornly focusing on booting up your laptop as if it required your complete and utter concentration.

Sunghoon watched you for a moment longer, that infuriating, knowing smirk still playing on his lips. 

Then, with a sigh that sounded more performative than tired, he opened his own pristine notebook. The sound of the page turning was unnaturally loud.

"So," he began, his voice shifting back into that cool, business-like tone you were starting to recognise. It was the voice he used with Jungwon. 

The one that said the fun was over and it was time to be efficient. "The project. 'Create a Brand.' Do you have any… feelings… on where we should start?"

He didn't look up as he said it, but you heard the subtle emphasis, the deliberate poke. He was weaving your own words back into the conversation, ensuring you couldn't escape the personal even within the professional.

Your finger tapped lightly against the keys, not pressing them entirely. A soft hum as you were thinking about a safe option. 

"Market research," you stated, your voice clipped and professional. "Identifying a demographic gap. The usual process."

"How… textbook of you, L/N," he mused, tapping his expensive pen against the paper. "I suppose that's one approach. A safe one."

And in Sunghoon's words, the implication was clear: boring.

"Do you have a better one?" you challenged with a heavy sigh, unable to stop yourself.

Finally, he looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours. The amusement was back, but it was focused now, sharpened to a point. 

"I always have a better one. Instead of looking for a gap, we create demand. We don't follow trends; we set them. We make something so undeniable, so…" he paused, his gaze flicking to your shirt again for a fraction of a second, his eyes hiding something behind them, "...vibrantly real, that the market has no choice but to want it."

He was doing it again. Talking about the project in a way that felt like it was about the two of you. It was maddening. And the worst part? It was a brilliant idea.

"That's… riskier yet better idea," you admitted, hating that you had to give him credit.

The best things usually are," he said, his voice dropping a fraction. He held your gaze, and for a moment, the only sound was the hum of the library lights. 

Silence filled the room once again, the cool air hitting your single bare shoulder. The tension, a terrifying, exhilarating spark of a genuinely good idea born from pure hostility. 

—

The cold night air hit your face like a slap, a welcome shock after the suffocating, tension-filled atmosphere of the study room. You could still feel the ghost of Sunghoon’s challenging gaze on you, the echo of his low voice in your ears.

You found Jungwon exactly in the same position last night, sprawled on your living room floor, surrounded by a fortress of empty energy drink cans and snack wrappers, but now he was watching a variety show on his phone, his essay seemingly forgotten.

He paused the video the second you walked in. His eyes, sharp and knowing, scanned your face.

“Well?” he asked, dragging the word out. “How did the ‘revenge’ go? Do I need to help you hide a body?” 

You dropped your bag onto the floor with a heavy sigh and collapsed onto the couch, throwing an arm over your eyes. “Worse. We actually… worked.”

Jungwon sat up straight, intrigued, eyebrows raised once again for the nth time this week. “Shut up. Seriously? How?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned, the memory feeling surreal. “One second we were arguing about my shirt, which he called a ‘target,’ by the way, the arrogant ass… and the next we were brainstorming. And his ideas were annoyingly brilliant.”

“No way,” Jungwon whispered, looking genuinely shocked. “Sunghoon-hyung actually shared his ideas with you? He usually just tells people what to do.”

“He didn’t tell me what to do. He argued with me. It was like intellectual fencing. Every time I proposed something safe, he’d counter with something insane and… kind of amazing.” 

You moved your arm to look at your best friend. “He infuriates me, Won. But he’s not… he’s not what I thought he was.”

Jungwon’s teasing smile softened into something more thoughtful, you'd like to think. “Told you. There’s a brain behind that pretty face. A scary one. So… what’s the brand?”

You stared at the ceiling, a reluctant smile touching your lips. “It’s called ‘Reverie.’ A boutique brand selling curated experiences, not just products. His concept.”

“Damn,” Jungwon whistled. “That’s actually really cool.”

“I know,” you mumbled, the admission tasting like defeat and something else, something suspiciously like excitement. 

As you continued to talk to Jungwon about random things, people who slid into his dm’s, what Sunghoon specifically said to you and how his football practice was going. 

As you were in the middle of talking about how much Sunghoon infuriated you, your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Speak of the devil.

Your heart did a stupid, hopeful little leap; maybe it was a spam message, you told yourself.

You picked it up.

The message preview glowed in the dark:

PARK SUNGHOON: One more thing I thought of. Check your email.

It was so curt. So professional. So utterly him.

But he was texting you. After 10 PM. After you’d just spent two hours together.

You opened the message, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard. 

What do you even reply? 

A simple ‘K’? 

A ‘Will do’?

Before you could decide, another message popped up, this one even more unexpected.

PARK SUNGHOON: And for the record, L/N… your “questionable taste” makes you… unique? 

PARK SUNGHOON: I can be ‘emo’ for you.

You blinked at the message. Mouth hanging open, you rubbed your eyes before looking back at the text.

You stared at the words, your mind racing. Was that… a compliment? A backhanded one, wrapped in a tease and delivered with his signature smirk, but still. It felt like a white flag tossed onto the battlefield. Or perhaps, a new challenge entirely.

“Jungwon– look at this.” You practically shove your phone into his face. 

He takes it, his eyes scanning the messages quickly. For a second, he’s silent. Then, his jaw goes slack.

“No. Way.” he breathes, his voice hushed with awe. He looks from the phone to you, his eyes wide as dinner plates. “He texted that? Sunghoon-hyung said he could be ‘emo’ for you?!”

A slow, gigantic grin spreads across his face, transforming his shock into pure, unadulterated delight. He lets out a low, gleeful cackle.

“Oh my god. He’s so gone. He is absolutely done for!” Jungwon practically vibrates with excitement, shaking your phone in the air for emphasis.

“This isn’t a white flag, this is him waving a whole entire surrender banner with your name on it! ‘I can be emo for you’? That’s the cringiest, most obvious thing I’ve ever seen him do! And he deleted it because he knew it was cringe!” He turned the phone around to show you the now-deleted message.

PARK SUNGHOON: And for the record, L/N… your “questionable taste” makes you… unique? 

PARK SUNGHOON: You deleted this message.

He collapses back against the couch, laughing uncontrollably, clutching his stomach. “He was probably so cool and collected sending the first text, then he panicked! He was like, ‘No, that’s too much, abort mission!’ TOO LATE, HYUNG! WE SAW IT!”

Catching his breath, he sits up again, pointing a dramatic finger at you, his expression turning seriously amused. “You. You have broken the great Park Sunghoon. I’ve never seen him try this hard. Ever. He’s usually the one receiving these desperate texts, not sending them.”

He hands your phone back, his grin still impossibly wide. “You have to reply. You HAVE to. You can’t leave him on read after a performance that pathetic and adorable.”

“What do I even say?” you ask, feeling utterly flustered and out of your depth, cheeks burning a soft pink.

Jungwon’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Just hit him with a simple: ‘Prove it.’”

PARK SUNGHOON: And for the record, L/N… your “questionable taste” makes you… unique? 

PARK SUNGHOON: You deleted this message.

YOU: Prove it.

—

Jungwon was still cackling on the floor, rolling around as you paced around the living room in now worry and regret. Your phone is vibrating once again on the couch.

PARK SUNGHOON: That wasn’t for you.

A three-dot bubble appears, then disappears, then appears again.

PARK SUNGHOON: My phone was in my pocket.

A longer pause.

PARK SUNGHOON: Forget you saw that.

This is a terrible, transparent lie.

The fact that the usually flawless Park Sunghoon is resorting to the "my phone was in my pocket" excuse is hilarious and shows he's genuinely flustered. 

As soon as Jungwon saw the message, he absolutely lost it. 

He’d stop rolling and just lie flat on his back, staring at the ceiling while wheezing, completely out of breath. “MY PHONE WAS IN MY POCKET?” he would shriek, his voice cracking with disbelief and delight. “HE– HE REALLY WENT WITH THAT? THE PARK SUNGHOON?!”

Before you could reply, the three dots appeared once again.

PARK SUNGHOON: Y’know what? Careful, L/N. You might not like the methods I use to prove a point.

PARK SUNGHOON: Careful, L/N. You might not like the methods I use to prove a point.

Your eyes widen at his sudden boldness. Your hand was tapping the leg of Jungwon, who was rolling in laughter.

PARK SUNGHOON: Our next meeting is at 8PM, same place. Don’t be late.

When the second, bolder text comes through, he’d shoot up into a sitting position, his laughter cutting off into a stunned, open-mouthed grin. “Oh–oh my god!” he said, scrambling to his knees like a kid who just found the best present ever. “Now he’s trying to be cool again! He panicked, sent the worst lie in history, and now he’s trying to cover it up by being all mysterious and threatening! This is the best night of my life!”

He grabbed your shoulders, eyes wide and sparkling. “Y/N, you have him wrapped around your finger. He’s actually unravelling. I’ve never seen him try so hard to be smooth and fail so spectacularly. He’s so embarrassed right now, he’s probably staring at his ceiling, wondering where his game went.”

“He’s not unravelling– h-he’s weaponising his embarrassment!” you stammered, your mind racing.

Your imagination supplied a dozen worse, more thrilling possibilities, each making your face heat another degree.

Jungwon’s grin softened into a more sympathetic, but still wildly amused, expression. “Hey, hey. Breathe.” He guided you to sit on the couch, snatching your phone and placing it face down on the coffee table. “Look. This is good. This is amazing. You’ve seen behind the curtain. The great and powerful Park Sunghoon is just a guy who sends cringe texts and then tries to play it off like a villain from a drama.”

He plopped down next to you, crossing his legs. “So, here’s what you do. You don’t reply. You let him stew in it. Let him stare at his ceiling all night, wondering why you’re not responding to his super cool, super ‘threatening’ message.” He sent a sinister smile your way. “Honestly, I think he was just trying to flirt– he’s clearly horrible at it.”

“I don’t reply?” you asked, the idea feeling iffy in your bones. Your eyebrows furrow in worry and confusion.

“No. You let the anticipation build. You walk into that next meeting looking utterly unbothered. You let him make the next move. The ball is in his court, and you, my friend, are not playing fetch.” Jungwon’s eyes gleamed with strategic genius.

“Watch him. He’ll either be extra cold to overcompensate, or he’ll be so intrigued by your silence he won’t know what to do. Either way, you win.”

You looked from Jungwon’s confident face to your dark, silent phone. The panic began to recede, replaced by a slow-burning sense of control. Jungwon was right. Silence was its own kind of power.

Was it a power you liked? You had no idea.

But you couldn’t wait to see how Sunghoon would react to it.

—

The morning light felt accusing. You’d followed Jungwon’s advice and hadn’t replied, but a night of restless sleep had been filled with dreams of three dots and cryptic warnings.

You scrolled through your phone over breakfast, and there it was. The entire, bizarre conversation thread. In the cold light of day, it was even more surreal.

“Still alive?” a text from Jungwon popped up.

YOU: Barely. I think I hallucinated it.

Wonnie!!: Nope. It was real. Hyung’s ego is probably still in critical condition. What’s the plan for today, soldier?

You sighed, spoon pushing cereal around in the bowl. The plan was to try to focus on your film essay, a task that now felt monumentally unimportant. Every time you tried to think about Georges Méliès, your brain supplied Sunghoon’s voice saying, “Careful, L/N.”

He’d infiltrated your brain. That was his method. Annoyance was no longer a strong enough word. This was preoccupied. You were preoccupied with Park Sunghoon.

And the worst part? A tiny, secret part of you was already counting down the hours until 8 PM.

—

8:00 PM.

The library was quiet.

Too quiet for your liking.

It was like a cathedral of knowledge that seemed to hold its breath. Each click of your sneakers on the polished floor echoed like a gunshot in the silent hallways, a stark contrast to the frantic beat of your heart.

You’d followed Jungwon’s advice word for word. 

You hadn’t replied. 

You’d let him stew. But now, with every step closer to Study Room 4B, the power you’d felt from your silent phone was evaporating, replaced by a dizzying blend of anticipation and pure, unadulterated nerves.

Our next meeting. Don’t be late.

His words had played on a loop in your head all day, a threat that had rendered you completely useless for anything else. 

You’d tried to work on your film essay at home, but the words blurred together, morphing into “methods to prove a point.”

You rounded the final corner. The door to 4B was shut, the blinds on the interior window open just enough to reveal a sliver of the room inside.

You stood in front of the door, breath shaky, and your outfit more casual than the first. A tight-fitted tank top and baggy sweat pants. 

He was already there.

Of course he was.

Sunghoon wasn't scrolling on his phone or tapping that expensive pen of his against his lips. He was just… staring, more specifically at the door. He was waiting for you. Watching every movement, hoping it was you.

His expression was unreadable, a carefully reconstructed mask of cool indifference. But his eyes… god his eyes made your knees buckle under the pressure.

His eyes held a new intensity. A focused, simmering energy that hadn’t been there before.

He looked like a predator who had patiently waited all day for his prey.

Your hand hesitated on the cool metal of the doorknob. This was it. The moment of truth. Would he be the flustered boy from the texts, the arrogant god from the football field, or something else entirely?

Taking a steadying breath that did nothing to calm the storm inside you, you pushed the door open.

The air in the tiny room shifted instantly. It was charged, thick with everything that had been texted and everything that had been left unsaid.

Sunghoon’s eyes tracked your every movement as you walked in, a slow, appraising sweep that felt more intimate than any wink. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak.

He just watched you, waiting for you to break the silence first, the ghost of his deleted message hanging between you like a challenge.

You stepped further into the room, the door clicking shut behind you like a final decision. The silence wasn’t empty; it was electric, humming with anticipation and the weight of everything unsaid.

Sunghoon didn’t move. But his gaze was relentless, like he was trying to memorise the way your breath hitched or how your fingers curled slightly at your sides. The air between you felt tight, like it might snap if either of you spoke too loudly.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “You said I wouldn’t like your methods.”

His plump lips parted slightly, but he still didn’t smile. “I did.”

You took another step. He mirrored it as he slowly stood up. Not a word. Just movement, slow, deliberate, magnetic.

“You’re not usually this quiet,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrayed you. It trembled, just enough for him to notice.

“I’m not usually this… distracted.”

That did it. The tension cracked, not with words, but with the proximity between the two of you. He was close now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that your breath mingled in the narrow space between you.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that message,” he murmured, voice low and rough. Needy.

“I’m glad I did.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, it felt like the room tilted, like gravity had shifted, and the only thing anchoring him was you.

His gaze dropped to your lips, lingered, then flicked back up to meet your eyes. There was no mistaking it now; he wasn’t trying to be smooth. He wasn’t trying at all. He was just feeling. 

Your breath caught as his fingers brushed your jaw, featherlight, like he was testing the moment before committing to it. Then, with a quiet inhale, he leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It was slow, intentional. His lips met yours like a question, one he already knew the answer to. You responded without hesitation, your hand finding the edge of his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world narrowed to just this. 

As soon as he felt you return the kiss, he practically whined into your mouth. Finally snapping. His hand gripped your waist with haste, almost as if his touch bruised you. Your own hands now tangling in his hair as he allowed your tongue to explore his mouth. 

This kiss wasn't just for fun, no, It was the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission. You both knew it was wanted. The kind that made you forget every sarcastic text, every teasing remark, and remember only the way he tasted like something you’d been craving without realising it.

You both break away from the kiss to catch your breath, Sunghoon’s lips chasing yours with heavy eyelids. Chest heaving as your hands grip his strong-jawed face.

His forehead rested against yours, breath warm and uneven, the space between you pulsing with everything that hadn’t been said but had just been felt. His hands didn’t leave your waist; if anything, they tightened, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked, like the kiss had stripped him of every ounce of composure. “I can’t think straight when you’re this close.”

Your thumb brushed along his cheekbone, and he leaned into the touch like it grounded him. But his eyes—his eyes were anything but calm. They flicked down to your lips again, then lower, lingering with a hunger that made your skin burn.

“You’re not exactly helping,” you whispered, lips brushing his as you spoke, your fingers tracing the two prominent moles on his face.

That was all it took.

He kissed you again, harder this time, like he needed to make up for every second he hadn’t. His hands slid up your back, fingers splaying wide, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was no longer subtle; it was consuming. 

His mouth moved with purpose, with desperation, like he was trying to memorise the taste of you, the sound you made when his teeth grazed your bottom lip. You gasped into him, and he swallowed it like a secret. This wasn’t playful. This was unravelling.

And neither of you wanted to stop.

Your hand glided down the curve of his torso, slow and deliberate, until your fingers brushed the edge of his waistband. You lingered there, teasing the boundary with featherlight touches that made his breath hitch and a low, needy sound escape his throat, half groan, half whimper, swallowed by the kiss.

His hands were restless, roaming your body with a maddening mix of reverence and impatience. One moment, they traced your spine like he was memorising it, the next, they gripped your hips with a possessive urgency that made your pulse stutter.

Every movement was a question, every touch a dare. And neither of you was backing down.

Your fingers paused at the edge of his waistband, a silent question lingering in the space between you. You didn’t move further, just let your touch rest there, waiting. His breath hitched, and a low, muffled groan escaped against your lips, raw and involuntary. That was your answer.

With deliberate slowness, your hand slipped beneath the fabric, the heat of his skin meeting your palm. He tensed, a shudder rolling through him as your touch deepened. Even through the thin barrier of his boxers, you could feel the undeniable evidence of his desire, solid, overwhelming, and impossible to ignore.

His head dropped to your shoulder, lips brushing your neck as he exhaled shakily. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, voice wrecked and barely audible.

But you did. You knew exactly.

Your hand began to move along the length of him, slow and deliberate through the fabric, each pass adding just a little more pressure. The tension in his body was immediate, his breath caught, lips parting in a soft, broken gasp as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck–” he whispered, voice strained and low, like the word had been dragged out of him against his will.

You could feel the way he trembled beneath your touch, his grip tightening at your waist, fingers digging in like he needed something to hold onto. The heat between you was no longer subtle; it pulsed, alive, demanding.

And still, you moved with purpose. Teasing. Testing. Letting him unravel one breath at a time.

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants and boxers, tugging them down in one slow, deliberate motion. The fabric slid past his hips, pooling just above his thighs, and the sudden exposure to the cool air drew a sharp hiss from his lips. A sound that sent a thrill down your spine.

He clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tried to steady himself, but the way his body responded told you everything. You followed the motion downward, sinking to your knees in front of him, your breath warm against his skin, your gaze locked on his face as he looked down at you. Eyes dark, lips parted, chest rising and falling with quiet urgency.

”Please.”

The tension between you was no longer subtle. It pulsed in the air, thick and undeniable, as your hands settled on his thighs, grounding yourself in the moment. He reached out, fingers brushing your cheek, a silent plea wrapped in the gentlest touch

You leaned in, letting the anticipation stretch, letting him feel every second of your presence before anything else. And when your lips finally ghosted over his skin, he let out a sound that was half relief, half desperation, like he’d been waiting for this far longer than either of you had admitted.

Your lips hovered just above him, breath warm and deliberate, letting the anticipation stretch until it was almost unbearable. Then, with a slow, intentional motion, you pressed a soft kiss to the tip, gentle, reverent, like you were testing the edges of something sacred.

He exhaled sharply, a quiet moan slipping past his lips as his hand slid into your hair. Not to guide you, not to control—just to feel you. His fingers threaded through your locks, resting there with a kind of quiet desperation, grounding himself in the moment.

You continued, placing delicate kisses along the sensitive skin, each one earning a new sound from him—soft gasps, low whimpers, the kind that told you he was unravelling inch by inch. His hips shifted slightly, instinctive and restrained, as if he didn’t want to rush you, didn’t want to break the spell you were weaving.

The intimacy of it all was overwhelming. Not just the touch, but the way he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. You could feel the tension in his thighs beneath your hands, the way his body responded to every movement, every pause.

It wasn’t about speed. It wasn’t about control. It was about connection, about the quiet, burning need that had been building between you for far too long.

And in that moment, with his hand in your hair and your lips tracing slow, deliberate patterns, it felt like the world had narrowed to just this: the heat, the breath, the unspoken desire that neither of you could hide anymore.

You moved with deliberate slowness, letting the tension stretch between you like a thread pulled taut. Every descent was measured, every retreat leaving behind a glimmering trail that made him shudder beneath your touch. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, each one punctuated by a soft, involuntary whine that betrayed just how undone he was becoming. 

“Fuck– baby.”

His hand slid deeper into your hair, not forceful, but firm. Like he needed the connection, needed to feel you anchored to him. His fingers curled slightly, a silent plea for you not to stop, not to pull away. And you didn’t. You stayed, letting the rhythm build, letting the moment swell with heat and anticipation.

His head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted in a soundless gasp. You could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his body strained to stay still, to let you lead. But the way his hand pressed gently, insistently, told you he was losing that battle.

It wasn’t just physical. It was emotional, raw, vulnerable, and electric. Every movement, every sound, every glance between you was a confession neither of you had spoken aloud.

And in that moment, you knew: he wasn’t just responding to your touch. He was responding to you.

”Just like that.”

And by the way, you were sucking him, worshipping him like a Porsche 911 GT3; you could tell he was close. The way his hips bucked ever so often, the small grunts turning an octave higher.

You hollow out your cheeks softly, making him shiver, tugging your hair even more to the point he was slowly fucking your mouth. Grunts and whines escaped his lips. And you just… let him. 

The way he gripped your hair, whispering sweet praises, made your stomach pool as well. A hand sneaking down between your legs as you snuck a hand under your waistband.

“Fuck– Y/N. Your mouth feels so good–!” He whined out as his slow thrusts slowly became more. Your own finger circling your clit through your panties, a soft moan escaping your own lips with every brush, sending vibrations down his cock.

Your hands now match the pace of his thrusts, which were practically lightning speed as you both chase your orgasms together. Moaning and whining towards each other. “Fuck– Hoon!” You muffledly moaned around his cock. 

“Shit– Y/N I cant last..!” He cried out, eyes watering along with yours as tears stream down. Your reflexes slowly coming to life as you gag around his cock with every deep and shallow thrust. 

“You feel… so– fuck–!” it was his tipping point. And apparently it was yours as well, Sunghoon practically exploding in your mouth while you yourself orgasm in your panties. Which clearly left a wet patch, but you couldn't bother to care this late at night.

You both sat in the thick silence, breathless and undone. Your head rested against Sunghoon’s thigh, lips sticky, the warmth of his skin grounding you as your chest rose and fell in time with his. He gripped the edge of the study table like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

The air was heavy, not with tension, but with something quieter. Something real.

Eventually, you tilted your head up, eyes still hazy, searching his face. He was already looking down at you, lips parted in a soft, crooked smile. Not smug. Not teasing. Just… human.

And for the first time, you saw him not as the untouchable boy from the football field or the chaotic flirt from your texts but as someone real. Someone warm. Someone who, somehow, had just let you in. And damn it, you weren’t sure what that meant. But you knew it meant something.

as the days pass by, they only get harder for taesan. longer work hours, lesser sleep, stricter diet and exercise regimens—you name it. that was the cost of him fulfilling and living his dream. but in your arms, he could forget all about it.

except, he’s been on tour for too long and misses your touch too much.

“what’s wrong baby? you seem sad,” you pout on the other end of the call, resting your hands on the desk as your head lays on top. taesan just stares as he shakes his head, trying to hide away his neediness for you behind his quivering lips.

"it's nothing. i just miss you, that's all."

"yeah? you miss me?" you ask teasingly, still in the same position as you watch how he hugs his knees. the bed he sat on was far from comfortable as he reminisced how your hugs feel like the very opposite, sighing at the thought while you curiously watched him.

"well of course i miss you. been on this tour so long," he huffed out, "i just need to be back in bed with you already."

"how adorable. you need me so badly baby?"

the words 'need me so badly baby' struck something in him as he felt his body jerk in reaction. he gulped as he hid his face with his knees, nodding so you can only see the top of his head move. you coo out "how cute," as you look at him, wishing you too could touch him, hold him, and take care of him.

under the position taesan sat in, he could feel himself actually getting needy as the space in his pants felt constricting, his boner poking out. he started feeling embarrassed as he balled himself up further more, shy at how easily he let his brain run to make up scenarios he only wishes you could fulfill for him right now. and worst of all, he is so sure that you only said those words innocently, not to make him actually get like so.

on the other end of the line, you are confused by his reactions, sitting up straight as you blink at the screen. "taesan?" you call out, his head looking up at you in response.

with that small move, you see it. you see how his brows droop, his eyes almost glossy. you see the expression he makes when he gets needy, all because of the eyes that look back at you.

ah... he must've taken those words as something more...

you get the idea now, making up your mind to keep teasing him. clearing your throat, you go back to your previous position, head laying on your arms as you speak, “if i was there with you right now, where would you want me to touch you?”

the thought of you touching him made everything all the more worse, the teasing getting him worked up as he hid his face again. “i... i don’t know. and honestly, i wouldn’t care. jus' want your hands on me. please.”

you sigh, the corners of your lips lifting up as you keep watching your boyfriend cutely hide himself. "so needy... really just my sweet baby, aren't you?"

he nods again, the praise that would've been a soft moment for others instead being one that leads him deeper into the pit he dug himself into. you know how malleable taesan becomes when you say the right words, and you weren't planning on stopping, not when you can tell that he is right where he is supposed to be.

“have you touched yourself to the thought of me yet?"

the straightforward question makes the boy look up again, this time fully looking at you as you see the effect of just your words on him. his head moves on autopilot, moving up and down vigorously.

"really? show it to me then, my pretty boy.”

the sudden request leaves him flustered, but as always, he obeys. taesan lets go of his knees, spreading his thighs apart as his eyes don’t leave your peaceful face for a second.

you keep watch, seeing his boner appear as he did so. and then, as he hooked his thumbs on his shorts and presumably also his boxers, you couldn’t help but start to feel aroused as his length sprung out, tip slapping his stomach over the oversized shirt he wore.

he bit the side of his lower lip as he ghosted his fingers over his hard cock, just the way you do when you admire it. he knows you love to touch him gently, treating him like a fragile piece of glass on display, something he too loves to be like for you. closing his eyes and leaning his head back, he went slow with his movements, prolonging every single thing he did. he knew you were watching intently, and so he wanted to give you the show you deserve.

“come on baby, do it some more. touch yourself. i know you need it,” you sat up again, rubbing along your thighs. you were restraining yourself as you watched, feeling your panties get pooled with every passing second. it was as if he teased you now, although unknowingly.

at your approval, taesan really did do so, moving along his length faster. his precum dripped out, and with every motion along his shaft, he lubricated himself. it became easier as he continuously pumped himself, the lights hitting the slick that coated him as they shined on the screen for you.

in his mind, he imagined you riding him, your moist walls sliding along him easily as you used him as you wished. he leaned back until he felt the pillow behind him, leaving him slumping as he tightly shut his eyes to really get into the thoughts he created in his mind. “oh god, you feel amazing, baby.”

you chuckled at that, finding his stature as he daydreams to be adorable. your fingers inched closer to your core over the cloth every couple seconds, but you reluctantly pulled yourself away, opting to simply enjoy the view as your boyfriend began thrusting up into his fist.

taesan bit his inner lip as he got desperate, mere minutes having passed since he began. he was close, and he couldn’t keep it in as he sped up. he didn’t even have to say the word as you saw how he leaked just a bit harder as a signal, the back of his head pushing against the headboard.

with a final couple thrusts, he finally came, his mouth opening to let out choked moans, some with your name as well. he breathed too hard after, his chest rising and falling like waves of the ocean during the high-tide.

you waited for him as his breathing stabilized, seeing how he got the hotel sheets messy with his cum. the wet spots from how he let himself go completely fascinated you. he must’ve been so pent up…

“taesan,” you called out, hands back on the desk despite feeling the neediness in you arise. “feel good baby?”

his heavily lidded eyes look at you, blinking sluggishly as he sees your own face heavy with need. for the last time, he nods, “so good.”

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