#sunghoon texts

Well, “pretending” is putting it generously considering you’ve still got faint bruises from where his hands were pressed into your thigh four days ago when he had you bent over a classroom desk with your panties shoved aside and his ringed fingers fucking you open so slowly and so deeply until your brain shorted out completely and all you could see behind your closed eyes was light and stars and his name written everywhere. Then, of course, there was the day after that, where your face was pressed into silk in a vacant room in his father’s hotel as he fucked you so hard your legs shook all the way back home. Oh, and let’s not forget when he—

Okay. Uh. So, obviously, there is something severely wrong with you.

Maybe the better question is whether anyone here can tell that whatever exists between you only really exists in the negative space between arguments and the furious, hungry way you tear into each other like starving animals with no sense of control and even less shame. (Like, genuinely less than zero.)

Probably not. No one ever looks at Seoul’s precious business prodigy and imagines he’s capable of losing control, let alone decorum. Meanwhile, you’re the only one who knows he’s actually the most insufferable asshole to ever exist.

Whatever. No one here even has basic instincts, let alone intuition. From the outside, you look serene and every bit the beloved perfect porcelain doll perched exactly where she belongs on her little shelf beside her ‘fiancé,’ and that’s all anyone notices, which is what matters, right? So really, who cares if from the inside you’re vibrating with this horribly specific urge to either smash Sunghoon’s stupidly pretty face into the nearest marble or drag him by the tie into an empty room and let him fuck you senseless? (Preferably both.) (In that order.)

Time out. 

You care. Obviously, you care. Hello? Pull yourself together and get the hell out of your own head. This freakishly insane sex thing cannot keep happening.

Also, you are literally at a formal event with cameras and vultures in designer circling everywhere, drooling for a singular misstep. For God’s sake, your sweet, sweet parents are here, hovering somewhere near the front, trying (and failing) not to look obvious as they peek over their champagne flutes and watch you with that unmistakable cocktail of pride, hope, and a reasonable dash of parental concern. Every time you catch their eye, they break into these ridiculous, adoring smiles and wave at you like you’re still six years old and twirling onstage in a tutu instead of swanning through a ballroom with the devil himself hanging off your arm. And by an incredible mercy from the universe, they’re also just as completely and spectacularly oblivious to the fact that their darling, beloved daughter is currently one blasphemously filthy Sunghoon-shaped thought away from turning the whole family legacy into a cautionary tale whispered at every future gathering in this vicinity.

Not to fucking mention, the two of you fucking around cannot keep happening, not just because it’s monumentally stupid or a total violation of basic common sense, but because of the kind of consequences you don’t even want to think about. You’d like to say regret is one of those consequences, but that would be a lie so bold that you fear the heavens might actually smite you where you stand. Normal people (sane people) would probably lie awake at night, mortified and consumed by guilt or, at the very least, a sense of shame, but you? Oh, you lie awake restlessly (and terribly, terribly horny) replaying every minute, genuinely wondering whether anyone else in the long and sordid history of the human race has ever been fucked the way Park Sunghoon fucks you. 

So, what damning consequences are there then, if not sorrows and prayers? Well, none other than your best friend finding out. Not Sunoo (God bless his messy little heart). No, the true terror is having to look Jang “I’ll kill us both” Wonyoung in the eye and admit you fucked Sunghoon again after swearing (for the third… maybe fourth? time) that you wouldn’t. Oh, the thought alone makes you grimace. So seriously, get it together and stop thinking about fucking Sunghoon. Literally and figuratively. 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the mirrors as you pass, and it honestly defies belief even to you that beneath all this Prada and these pearls, your brain is hosting the kind of thoughts that would make the devil blush. Your skin is bare from your neck to just below your collarbones, except for a double strand of pearls tight around your throat, which right now feels more like a leash than an accessory (Especially when it’s practically one more deep breath away from strangling you, and not even in the fun, kinky way). You’re still wearing that disgusting diamond ring, too, which is a reminder so gaudy it feels like it hums with radioactive energy every time you move your hand, so you do your best to pretend it’s just another ring. And of course, not a single soul in the room is trying to hide the fact that they’re watching your every move as if you’re just another centerpiece for them to look at. At least the lilies in the flower arrangements have the luxury of being replaced before they wilt.

You smile and keep walking anyway. They want the show? They’re getting the fucking show.

“Stop yanking my arm,” Sunghoon suddenly mutters from the side of his mouth and gets you out of your thoughts. “Can you pay attention for five seconds? You’re practically dragging me across the room. Fucking relax.”

“I’m not yanking your arm,” you hiss back, smiling wider for the cameras that are flashing so aggressively you’re about two seconds away from developing epilepsy. “I’m walking at a normal pace. Like a normal, non-corpse person. And I am completely, one-hundred-percent fucking relaxed—”

“For the love of God, stop talking” he cuts you off under his breath, sounding highly irritated while also keeping that artificial, picture-perfect smile glued to his face. “You’re literally clenching.”

“Oh, am I?” you mock, still keeping your face perfectly poised for the people passing by as the photographers move on to their next target. “Funny, you didn’t seem to complain about that last time. Should I do that thing you liked to make it better? What was it you said? ‘Just like thaaat, just stay right there and let me—’

Sunghoon immediately turns his head and gives you a look that says he’s half a second away from dragging you back to the car. Which, frankly, would solve nothing except maybe you’d finally get the chance to scream at him again. Or Worse. 

“That’s not funny.”

You let a quiet little laugh slip when you see the way he clenches his jaw out of anger. “It’s hilarious, actually.”

No one can tell that the two of you are dysfunctional. Right?

Eventually, after collapsing back into your chair and listening to a very tipsy Heeseung’s soliloquy about god-knows-what (something about how he’d trade this entire table for a bowl of Ramen right now) for about thirty minutes, you make the fatal mistake of tuning into the conversation across from you, and you have to blink three times just to make sure you’re not hallucinating and that it actually is Park Sunghoon who your very own dad is coddling right now. 

Oh. Okay.

This is a fresh new circle of hell you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, which is ironic, considering the enemy in question is Park Sunghoon himself. And he is actually, somehow (terrifyingly), bonding with your sweet, sweet dad. Over what? You’d really rather not know. But it started with your dad making some offhand, dad-tier reference to Fight Club, and that was all it took. Next thing you know, Heeseung gleefully launches Sunghoon into the conversation by saying, “Oh, oh! Hoon here made me watch that movie last week!” and Sunghoon, the absolute bastard, does the unthinkable. Instead of being normal and silent and brooding in his usual haunted-castle-inhabitant way, he slips seamlessly into the conversation like this is his true calling and starts quoting the movie to your dad with a shit-eating grin, dropping lines like—“The things you own end up owning you,”—as if he’s a misunderstood film major on the low and not, in fact, the reason you’re contemplating unspeakable sins in a public venue.

You shoot your dad a look of pure horror as he throws his head back and pats Sunghoon on the shoulder with the kind of giddy, fatherly approval that makes you want to crawl under the table and die. Et tu, Father Dearest?

So, you do the only reasonable thing in this scenario: you drag Sunghoon up by the arm and decide to begin the slow, torturous death march of personally greeting every partner, every board member, and just every single socialite whose name slips through your brain like water the second they’re said. Sunghoon does most of the talking, and of course, he’s charming enough to get away with it, but if you listen closely, you’ll notice that his voice is empty and detached and the literal conversational equivalent of reading off cue cards in his head. Though you could never deny that he knows how to work a room with ease, and it honestly just pisses you off even more. But whatever. You smile and tilt your chin the way you’ve seen in all the glossy press photos and let yourself be admired like a well-funded project that’s shiny enough to distract everyone from the fact that you’d rather be anywhere else… But if you have to spend one more minute watching him shake hands and trade pleasantries with men who would sell their own daughters for a sliver of what he has, you swear you’ll—

“Y/N, darling!” A woman coos, and you recognize her vaguely as the wife of one of those partners but can’t for the life of you be bothered to remember her name (you really need to work on that) as she leans in, lips painted the same shade of insincerity as her smile. “You look absolutely radiant. Your mother must be so proud. I just saw her, actually.” Her eyes flick over you once before she sighs delicately. “But oh—we were all so terribly concerned when you weren’t able to join us for the launch dinner in Tokyo last week. The press simply had a field day with it, didn’t they?”

What a treat. 

You’d almost give her points for how sweet she makes it sound if you weren’t already an expert at translating vultures. And you’ve doomscrolled online speculations enough to know exactly how much everyone here enjoyed your so-called absence that night, so she really didn’t need to spell it out. But again, points for trying. Sunghoon tightens his grip on your arm when you lightly huff a laugh, and you can tell it’s his “please don’t start” warning squeeze. 

So naturally, you start. 

“Oh. Thank you for your concern. You know, I figured Tokyo would survive a night without me. Last I heard, the city’s still standing, so it seems I was right. I’m glad it gave everyone something to talk about, though.” You pause just long enough for her to register the dig before you sweetly add with a smile, “But really, thank you for your kindness. It means the world.”

The woman blinks about three times like she’s processing your tone, but she recovers quickly and laughs like you’ve just told the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, bless your heart. What a charming girl.” She turns back to her husband, loops her arm through his with a satisfied smile, and then gestures back in your direction with a manicured hand as she walks away. “Isn’t she just lovely? No wonder they’re a couple, those two.”

(What a charming girl. Vulture translation? What a bitch.)

You sip what’s left of your champagne and nod. “Thank youuuu.”

That earns you a quick side eye and one of those Sunghoon specials: the silent, soul murdering scoff, and it truly takes everything in you not to grin. Instead, you look up at him with your lashes fluttering, all doe-eyed and sweet like you’ve never said anything wrong in your life. There’s the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth, gone as quickly as it appears with a flicker of something very close to amusement in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. You just keep smiling and let him steer you away as you tuck yourself tighter against his side with your head held high.

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything until you’re a safe distance away and no one’s close enough to pretend they aren’t listening. “That’s the third time you’ve scared someone off tonight,” He mutters, and there’s… a flash of worry hidden under the irritation in his eyes as he jabs his chin towards the champagne glass in your hand. “Slow down with that, will you?”

He looks at you for a second longer, and it’s like a ghost from a past life has wandered into the room. Not the spooky, sheet-over-the-head kind, but the kind that smells faintly of old cologne and broken promises, but the sight is still ghostly enough to make your skin prickle. 

“Why?” you scoff, raising your glass just to spite him. “Worried I’m going to embarrass your precious little image?”

“Because I know you,” he says simply. 

It’s only three stupid words, but your stupid heart still nosedives straight through your chest and drags half of your vital organs down with it.

It’s funny how the human heart can memorize the shape of someone and never ever unlearn it, even if you’ve moved on and tried to erase their ghost.

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, and you see Sunghoon’s jaw tick in the slightest. And, of course, he doesn’t let the faint tenderness in his voice just then linger, so he adds, “…And don’t think I’ll waste a second of my week listening to you bitching and whining when you inevitably fuck up and end up plastered all over every gossip site in Seoul. So behave, and put it away.”

The moment immediately snaps, and something inside you does with it, too.

“What, are you my daddy now?” You step closer and drop your voice into a lustrous purr, and before he can even blink you lean up and drag the flat of your tongue in a slow stripe up the shell of his ear. Sunghoon tenses.

To anyone passing by, it probably looks like a perfectly innocent moment where a doting fiancée shares a quiet word. Nothing scandalous at all.

“Go ahead,” you whisper, and bite down on his earlobe gently just to tease. “Take the glass away and keep telling me what to do, Sunghoon. I know you want to. I’d even listen to you if you say it nicely.” 

You can see the war happening behind his eyes as he fights not to react and give you the satisfaction. Which, frankly, is the best part.

“Shit,” he mutters, “your fucking attitude’s out of control. We’re in public.”

You pull away snugly and pat him right on the cheek like he’s a sulky kid, trying not to laugh in his face. “I don’t care. If you tell me what to do again, I’ll set your hair on fire.”

“Just shut up—”

You arch your brows when you notice, with vicious curiosity, how the tips of his ears have suddenly gone bright red.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, pointing at his ears. “Are you blushing? Seriously? All I had to do was call you d—”

He shoots you a death glare. “Shut the fuck up.”

You file that in your brain for a different time and gesture lazily between the two of you. “You shut the fuck up. We’re literally handing your precious father the perfect façade on a silver platter, so what more do you want from me? Should I just stand there, look pretty, and keep my mouth shut like a good little accessory?”

His eyes linger on your face, searching, and you can tell he’s trying not to look too pleased about any of this. “Funny, you almost sound like you’re enjoying yourself as opposed to how you were acting in Japan.”

You scoff, loud enough that a couple of suits glance over. “Don’t bring up Japan.”

You reach out and grab a champagne flute from a passing tray while setting your empty one down, then drain half of it in a single go before flashing your brightest, fakest smile at a group of some middle aged women looking your way. “And for the record, you’re welcome. You look so much better with me on your arm, Sunghoon. Try to keep up.”

He leans in and whispers in your ear. “Ah. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re irreplaceable. Because you’re not.” He lets his eyes flick down to your lips, then up again. “So, let’s not get cocky, princess. It’s not a good look on you.”

Something stings in your chest, but you ignore it and focus on how absolutely rageful you feel.

When you’re sure no one’s watching, you step closer and lean in, acting like you’re fixing his tie, but as you do, you move your heel sideways until it lands right on top of his polished leather shoe. You put your whole weight behind it to dig in harder until he grunts a curse right in your ear and his hand shoots up to wrap around your waist to steady himself.

“I don’t know, Sunghoon. I’d say this is a pretty fucking good look on me,” you hum, twisting your sharp pointy heel into his foot mercilessly. “Or does it only suit you when you’re the one stepping on everyone else?”

Sunghoon grits his teeth — clearly refusing to give you the satisfaction of a full wince as his hand tightens on your waist. “I think you’re doing all the stepping right now—Fuck—Are you trying to break my foot?”

“If the shoe fits,” you purr mockingly, letting him go with a kick.

Sunghoon’s brows pinch together, and his eyes are practically shooting daggers through you, but you know better than anyone that he’s all bark and no bite when you’re in public like this. So you shrug and turn away first just as an old man wobbles up to greet him, and all of a sudden Sunghoon is the poster boy of composure and charm, acting like he owns the goddamn building (Which, by extension, he literally does.) You mirror him in your own way and glue yourself to his side while also nodding along to whatever bullshit they’re talking about. 

But unfortunately, the problem here isn’t the urge to scream at him or throw a champagne flute at his head (tempting as that is.) No, it’s how your self control seems to shrivel by the second the longer you stand here pretending to be a functioning, sane, and dignified member of high society, when in reality, you believe you’re objectively the horniest person in this entire godforsaken ballroom and maybe even in the greater Seoul area. Quite possibly on earth, even. Is there… like a hotline for this? Ew. Scratch that. Is there a vaccine instead? Because you’re starting to think you might be a medical anomaly at this point, and you’d honestly wire your life savings to whoever can prove that somewhere, someone out there is hornier than you. And if such a person exists, how do they even get anything done, considering every single waking moment that Sunghoon isn’t inside you lately feels like slow-burning agony and bottomless despair? 

Wait a damn minute. 

You know what? This is just the ridiculous amount of champagne you’ve had planting these thoughts in your head. You need to drink a glass of water immediately and maybe even splash it in your own face for good measure. 

Okay. Okay, deep breath. Whatever you do, just don’t look at his hands. Easy. There we go. Hands? What hands? You’ve never even seen a hand in your life. Don’t even think about his hands. (You are absolutely thinking about his hands.) Just think about literally anything else. Think about corporate tax fraud, think about puppies… or your mother’s face if she could hear your internal monologue right now—literally anything but his hand and the fact that every vein on it is standing out like a road map you want to trace with your tongue—oh, perfect. Now he’s moving his hand. Aaaaaaaand now he’s wrapping it right around your arm.

Excellent. Fantastic.

Has he somehow developed psychic powers specifically to torment you?

Hello? Park Sunghoon, if you can hear this, I fucking hate you. Get your evil psychic sex hands out of my personal space and focus on talking to that fossil fuel. I’m done. Fuck you.

As if on cue, he shifts, and his stupidly thick, long fingers tighten around your arm just a little, and you can practically catalogue every single vein that runs up his knuckles. And don’t even get started on those gold Tiffany rings he always wears that are flashing under the chandelier lights every time he idly moves or spins them around like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. Fucking great. Your mind is now running a highlight reel of everywhere they’ve been and every time he’s made you come apart with just two fingers. You can’t even blink without picturing them coated in your wetness with his rings glinting as he circles your clit and works you apart. 

“You can stop looking at me like that now.”

Sunghoon says with his gaze fixated on you, and it breaks you right out of the spell. His hand tightens minutely on your arm, and his fingers make a slow circle around your bare skin, enough to set every nerve on fire. You tense instantly, because that tiny movement is enough to let you know he definitely saw the way you were looking at him. (Allegedly.)

“Unless,” he hums mockingly with one brow arched, “Is there something you want, darling?”

You don’t even realize you’re biting your lip until he looks down at your mouth. Okay… So it’s over. How do you even come back from this? Fuck. You’ve at least got to try. Get out of your head and stop staring at him.

“Don’t start this again. I don’t want anything from you.” You blink the Sunghoon-induced stupidity from your brain, and give him your best impression of someone who hadn't just been mentally deep-throating his fingers with God and all of his angels listening. “And I wasn’t looking at you. I was trying not to kill myself while you were talking to that borderline misogynistic ogre by indulging in the act of dissociation, and you just so happened to be in my line of sight.”

Before Sunghoon can say something cutting back (and you know he’s about to, because lo and behold, Smug Sunghoon™️ has made an appearance), Ningning materializes at your side, and her timing is so perfect you almost want to kiss her on the mouth. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, voice calm and sweet in that way she does when she’s trying to sound professional as she looks at Sunghoon. “You’re needed by the west bar—Chairman Lee says it’s urgent. Something about the press embargo regarding your father, I believe. Also, the Chairman of Mirae Holdings wants to greet the two of you personally. And, um, his wife would like a photo, so… good luck.”

She turns to you, and there’s a brief, panicked flicker in her eyes that only you catch. You widen your own just a fraction to give her the universal—please save me—signal and, God bless her heart, she gets it instantly.

“Oh! Right, and—Y/N, you’re also needed by… Ms. Oh? Yes, Ms. Oh! She’s been looking everywhere for you about—um—the… guest list for the afterparty your parents are hosting? Also very urgent. She says it can’t wait, actually, so… let’s move along, shall we?”

With that, she politely but firmly starts to steer you away with her “I’m-trying-to-be-professional-but-your-dysfunction-is-making-it-impossible” smile on her face.

And of course, Sunghoon immediately narrows his eyes and scoffs like he finds the whole situation absurd. “Really? Table placements? That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yes, really,” you shoot back defensively. “Clearly, I have a very important, very urgent job to do, so you should go handle your… embargo crisis, or whatever.”

He cocks a brow, looking wholly unconvinced, but he watches as Ningning pulls you away anyway. “Right. Try not to miss me too much.”

Oh, shut up.

Thank God for Ningning. 

If only she could also solve the problem of your brain and your legs threatening to betray you before the night is over.

Sunghoon is bored out of his fucking mind.

He’s been smiling for so long his jaw hurts, and if one more middle-aged man with a bad haircut asks him how his father is doing in New York, he might actually snap. Chairman-this, Director-that, and whoever fucking else. All of them are eager to praise Park Group’s “global vision,” as if glazing his father hard enough will magically elevate their stock.

As if Sunghoon gives a shit.

“Yes, he’s well.”

“Yes, he sends his regards.”

What he doesn’t mention is that he wouldn’t actually know if his father sends his regards or not because he hasn’t even spoken to the man himself in weeks. Any “conversation” they’ve had has been filtered through a tired assistant or squeezed into a curt business call that never lasted longer than necessary and never strayed beyond numbers and names. His father doesn’t waste words on pleasantries, let alone sentiments like “regards.” Whatever version of Park Sunghoon these men think they’re flattering right now is just another empty suit fulfilling his role, all while his father is God-knows-where out of the country, spinning deals and shaking hands with men who’d eat their own children if the price was right. But Sunghoon lets them talk and charms them anyway. He’s been trained for this since before he could tie his shoes. It’s easy. It’s always been easy.

All throughout this endless amount of small talk that makes him want to smash his fist through the wall just to feel something again, some stubborn, traitorous part of him is always keeping track of you underneath it all, the same way the tide can’t help but be pulled by the moon. 

Let’s get one thing straight: he’s not looking for you.

He’s being responsible and checking on you to make sure you haven’t disappeared out of a window just to spite him or made a mess he’ll have to clean up later, since you seem to be in a particular mood tonight.

Even as his eyes mindlessly scan the room to get a sense of where you are, your presence still presses in next to him even though you’re nowhere near him. Like a phantom limb, he keeps forgetting he’s lost until it starts aching again. He feels you in the space at his side where you were standing minutes ago. He can feel the ghost of your touch, the shape of your fingernails digging crescents into his arms while everyone else was oblivious, and the sound of your voice when you were half-mad and furious and begging for something you’d never admit out loud. The most infuriating part is that lately, he can’t just turn it off and ignore it anymore, despite how good he’s always been at doing that. (Numbness is practically a family heirloom.)

Whatever.

His gaze drifts over your shared table, and his eyes catch for just a second on Hana doubled over, laughing with Mr. Lee and your parents. There are two empty chairs near them, and they sit there like a gap in the teeth of something living and hungry, and tonight they technically don’t belong to his parents, but the emptiness seems to gape right back at him accusingly, as if it knows it’s the missing piece everyone’s learned to ignore. Sunghoon glances away, annoyed with himself, because he hates the way that after all these years, it still feels like standing outside on a patio somewhere, watching someone else’s family pass plates and laughter around a candlelit table. A father sneaks a slice of cake for his wife while voices call out for the birthday girl, and a boy just hovers at the edge, trying not to want what would never be his.

Where the hell are you, though? Why can’t he— 

There you are.

He spots you by one of the tables, haloed in the warm spill of the chandelier light with your head tilted in concentration and your pearls catching on your collarbones. You look happier than you did next to him just a few moments ago, and that alone is enough to set his teeth on edge. What’s worse is that you actually look… comfortable. Not the kind you pretend to look. The real kind.

And standing next to you is… 

Of course. 

Jeon Jungkook. Park Group’s favorite rival heir and his father’s pet nuisance. Jeon Jungkook, who has a reputation for never once learning how to keep his hands to himself, whose idea of a good time is ruining someone else’s, and who’d probably auction off his own father’s soul (and his own, for that matter) to knock Sunghoon off his pedestal. He can see the way he’s standing just a little too close and grinning that lazy, dangerous grin, with one tattooed hand hovering near your waist as he leans in to say something he most likely has no business saying to you. 

The rest of the ballroom disappears as he watches the way his eyes drag over you without shame. It’s just the sight in front of him and the ugly, primal urge to put his fist through something—preferably Jungkook’s cocky face. He really fucking hates that every part of him wants to storm over and remind him (and himself) that you’re not fucking available for other people to look at, or touch, or even think about with that damned ring on your finger.

Fuck off, he tells his own mind. We’re not doing this. 

So he ignores the two of you. In theory. 

But then he sees Jungkook reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and his fingers brush your cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and something in Sunghoon’s carefully constructed composure fractures so fast he almost feels dizzy. Surely he can’t just get away with that. Surely this asshole knows—everyone in this room knows—that you’re supposed to be his fiancée. Surely you—

Sunghoon doesn’t even realize he’s moving until he’s pulled straight towards you by whatever sick gravitational force that keeps fucking with him. Jungkook grins wider when he sees him approaching, then tilts his head as if he’s surprised to see him. 

“There you are, Sunghoon-ah!” he drawls, “Y/N here was just telling me the most interesting story about your little trip to Tokyo.”

The mention of Tokyo nearly knocks the breath right out of him for the hundredth time tonight, but he keeps his expression ironed flat. He flicks a glance at you, and you’re sparkling in the light and looking so goddamn alive—not the way you did on that first day in Japan with your eyes always somewhere far away in an empty way—and you lean into him when he slides an arm firmly around your waist like it’s his birthright. Your mouth curves up at the corner in a way that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing, then you tip your head back, and your perfume wraps around him so suddenly it nearly makes him falter. 

“What’s wrong?” You purr, and every syllable is dipped in the kind of mockery only he would ever catch. “Miss me too much?”

For a heartbeat, Sunghoon goes completely still, and the noise of the ballroom drops away and is replaced by the wild thrum of his pulse and the scent of you. Then he remembers where he is, and he clears his throat.

Sunghoon greets Jungkook and politely inclines his head—all courteous respect for the older man, but there’s not a single atom of warmth beneath it. “I did not expect to see you here tonight.”

“Hello to you too,” He raises his glass at Sunghoon in a way that only pisses him off more. “I go where the fun is, you know that.” 

Sunghoon returns his smile with one of his own, perfectly polite, perfectly blank, every inch the heir his father raised him to be. “Well, I hope you’re enjoying yourself. I’m sure you’ve made the rounds by now. Or have you only just arrived to try your luck?”

Jungkook laughs, and his eyes flicker down to where Sunghoon’s hand is gripping your waist. “Luck has nothing to do with it. Besides, it’s not every day I get to catch up with old friends back home since I’m practically overseas all the time.” 

“Ah, right. I almost forgot how much older you are,” Sunghoon hums, punctuating and slightly raising his tone when he says the word older. “Back in the day, you’d be out on the balcony with her brother, keeping score while she and I turned the whole garden into a racetrack. She had pigtails, I had grass stains, and you… Well, you already had a drink in your hand, didn’t you? Weren’t you in your… mid-twenties?”

You clear your throat and give Sunghoon a look that says you’re about ten seconds away from staging an intervention for this pissing contest, but Sunghoon doesn’t even so much as blink.

“I was nineteen, actually,” Jungkook corrects firmly. “Young and stupid, I know. But still, barely older than you are now. You make it sound like I was supervising you from a rocking chair.”

“Same thing,” Sunghoon says smoothly, and his grip at your waist tightens just a fraction. “You’re practically like family, aren’t you, hyung?”

“I haven’t even seen him since like… 2023?” you cut in, glancing between at Sunghoon like he’s mildly embarrassing you. Then your fingers slip behind him as you pinch his side hard, though he doesn’t react. “We’re just catching up. Try not to scare him off, sweetheart.” 

“Hey, I’m only following orders. Her brother told me to keep an eye on her—make sure she doesn’t get too bored hanging around all these old men.” Jungkook glances at you with a wink that makes Sunghoon want to put his fist through the nearest antique vase. “Someone’s gotta keep her entertained.”

Sunghoon’s smile never falters, though his grip around you tightens. “Oh, you don’t have to worry. She’s in good hands with me. Never a dull moment.”

You snort so loud it actually startles Sunghoon, and he turns his head to look at you, and you just meet his eyes and smack his arm in an almost playful way. “Shut up,” you mouth at him, but your lips are twitching, and he can’t help it—he almost smiles. Almost. 

Then you turn your attention back to Jungkook. “Oh, come on. Hold on. Don’t tell me you’re about to start playing big brother on me now. Weren’t you the one sneaking me soju under the table at my graduation party?”

Jungkook presses his pointer finger up to his lips and laughs. “Allegedly. And only because you begged so sweetly, love.”

Sunghoon tongues his cheek. The fuck?

Then the memory of that exact party flickers across his mind. It was the summer he perfected the art of self-control, and there were fairy lights tangled in the trees, the distant hum of cicadas in the open night air, and you were spinning in your heels with Wonyoung and Sunoo egging you on as you drunkenly stumbled over to him with your cheeks flushed red, even after he’d spent all summer ignoring you. He remembers looking at you and swallowing down everything he didn’t know how to say and turning away coldly. 

Fucking hell. I’m not eighteen anymore. I’ve moved on.

Meanwhile, you—well, you can’t even pinpoint the exact moment the night turned into whatever this is, but honestly, you’re buzzing. You’re pretty sure it’s mostly from the champagne (which you’ve been sipping way too fast), but also maybe from the absolute thrill of watching this unfold in real time. 

“You were always my favorite troublemaker. Sunghoon-ah, tell me, are you keeping her in line, or do I need to step in?” 

“Trust me, she doesn’t need anyone to keep her in line.” His voice goes a touch lower, just for you. “She does whatever the hell she wants, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t having the time of your life right now.

Jungkook, for all his charm, is just being himself—more or less harmless. If anything, he’s always looked at you like you’re the world’s most annoying little sister he loves to tease, and unfortunately, if you really think about it, he only touched your cheek the way someone who’s been around long enough to see you in every awkward preteen phase would (Which is all kinds of mortifying.) The only thing less likely than him actually flirting with you is him surviving your brother’s wrath if he tried. 

But you know exactly how this looks right now.

Two can play this game, Park Sunghoon. Let him stew and simmer and dig his stupid hand into your waist just a little harder, like he’s got something to prove. It’s not that he cares about you—God forbid—but you know when it comes to you, Sunghoon only cares when the narrative slips out of his pretty fingers because he’s a fucking control freak who can’t stand the thought of anyone else having his toys, especially when the world is watching and his precious image is on the line. His ‘fiancée’ shouldn’t be giggling with someone you’ve suspected he’s always low-key, always hated for reasons you can’t name, but maybe it’s because he could maybe, possibly, publicly rival him in name and in attention. 

So that’s exactly why you’re doing it.

You laugh a little louder, toss your hair over your shoulder, and give Jungkook your best, most sparkling eyes. “Maybe I should let you step in, actually. At least you’re fun at parties,” you raise your glass towards Jungkook, “which is more than I can say for some people.”

Jungkook laughs again, and you swear you almost see fumes come out of Sunghoon’s ears. “See? Some things really don’t change. She’s keeping you on your toes, I bet.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon murmurs, letting his gaze linger on you, “She’s an expert at that.”

“Hardly have to try,” your heart trips over itself, but you just smirk back and whisper. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to wind up.”

He leans in even closer to whisper in your ear. “Careful, princess. One of these days you’ll push too far.”

“Maybe I want to see what happens.”

Jungkook watches this exchange with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Ah, you two are adorable... Watching you is like watching a car crash in slow motion, like it’s almost impossible to look away from. Really makes me miss being that young and stupid.”

“I’m sorry, did you just—”

“Stupid—?”

“Just an observation. You’ll figure it out.” Jungkook shrugs and looks between you with a knowing look. “Try not to kill each other. Or do. Either way, make it entertaining. But anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Don’t want to stand in the way of true love—or… whatever you kids are calling it these days.” 

He lifts his glass in a lazy salute, and his gaze lingers on the two of you just a second longer than necessary before he turns to disappear into the crowd, leaving you and Sunghoon standing there alone. You immediately pull away from his grip, not quite yanking but not exactly gentle either, and you shoot him a glare. 

“Do you have an ounce of respect in you? Or do you constantly itch with the need to prove that you think you’re better than everyone?”

“I don’t think I’m better than everyone,” he smirks. “I know I am.”

“You arrogant bas—” 

“And I was just making conversation,” he completely cuts you off, speaking calmly as ever, as if he didn’t just spend five minutes trying to burn holes through Jungkook’s head with his eyes. “Or would you rather I stand here and let him eyefuck my fiancée right in front of me?”

“Oh my fucking god. Eyefuck?” The way he says it just kills you, and the laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it, and it only pisses Sunghoon off more. “He literally treats me like I’m still a kid, you moron—please. Oh myyy god. Oh, I wish. My stomach hurts.”

“Like a kid? Did you fucking see the way he was looking at you—?” He nearly chokes, and the words spill out so fast it’s like he can’t stop himself. Then he falters and his brows furrow, and you see him actually pause like he’s trying to make sense of the universe. “What the hell do you mean, ‘you wish?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous, Sunghoon.”

He smoothens his expression, and his mouth curves into a mockery of a smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. When are you finally going to get it through that stubborn little head of yours that nothing you do actually matters to me? The only thing that matters to me is my image—which, unfortunately, includes you now.” 

Despite everything you’ve been telling yourself, you almost say it. It’s right there, and it’s burning the back of your throat like battery acid: 

Why the hell did you shove your tongue down that scandalous little skank of a socialite’s mouth just last week in Tokyo if this is how you’re acting?

But you ultimately swallow it down because you don’t want his answers. Not anymore.

“You were foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, but ooooookay. By all means, bullshit me.”

Sunghoon clenches his jaw. “No, really. If you actually want to throw yourself at him somewhere more private, go right ahead. See if I care.”

“Oh, I will.” You go for the jugular because you’re tired and bored and angry. “Maybe I’ll let him buy me a drink. Hell, maybe I’ll even let him—”

“Go,” he cuts you off, and his nostrils flare. “Be my guest. I mean it, go.”

You just stare at him for a moment, and you can’t tell if he means it or not. “Heartless bastard. You really are a fucking asshole, you know that?”

“Is that supposed to hurt my feelings? What, did you expect me to beg you not to go to him?”

“No, Sunghoon. I don’t think you have any feelings left to hurt.”

You’re both painfully aware of the watchful eyes circling the ballroom—the way every gesture gets noticed, catalogued, and whispered about by people who’d sell their souls just to get a small understanding of what you’re saying. You keep your posture perfect with your teeth bared in something that only barely passes as a smile.

Then you scoff and turn on your heel.

Before you can take more than three steps, his hand is desperately around your wrist—not nearly as composed as he wants to look. It’s subtle enough that it might pass for a romantic gesture from the outside, but his grip is anything but soft. You freeze, and the whole world seems to slow down for just a second.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs.

And for a second—just one—your stupid, traitorous heart actually stutters at it like it forgot itself and heard something it’s been trained not to listen for.

“…It’s going to look like you’re storming off after an argument.”

There it is.

You laugh under your breath and slowly glance down at where his fingers are wrapped around your arm, then back up at him. “Let me go. I’ll do whatever I want.”

He doesn’t let go. “I know. But you’re not going anywhere tonight. Not with him. He’s—”

“What? Is he selfish? A liar? Cruel? Oh, maybe he fucks around? Or maybe he’s just another narcissist with a pretty face and a daddy complex? Is it all of the above?” Your mouth curves up, and you lean in to whisper in his ear. “Does that ring a bell?”

His fingers dig in harder. “Keep pushing, and I’ll remind you what happened the last time you mouthed off.”

You hum just to piss him off. “Oh? What’ll you do—drag me to the bathroom and fuck me stupid with all your precious investors ten feet away? That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? You’re literally incapable of doing anything else.”

He doesn’t answer. But you catch the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken, and that tells you everything you need to know. God, he’s so easy. 

And you’re even worse, because you almost hope he tries it. 

“Let go, Sunghoon,” you say quietly. “You don’t get to grab me, and you don’t get to scare off the people I choose to talk to just because you don’t like how it makes you feel.”

His mouth curves into that same empty smile from earlier, though the way his fists curl at his sides says otherwise. “I don’t feel anything.”

“So let go.”

He does.

And you walk away without looking back.

You unclip the double strand of pearls from your throat with shaking fingers because it suddenly feels like it’s cutting off the last bit of air in your lungs. With a sigh you can’t quite control, you set the pearls down on the marble counter, and for a second you just stand there with your palms pressed flat against the surface, letting the coolness seep into your skin and settle the electric rage buzzing in your chest. You close your eyes and count to three in a pathetic little ritual because if you don’t, you’re genuinely going to scream. 

Back in the day, you’d be out on the balcony with her brother, keeping score while she and I turned the whole garden into a racetrack. She had pigtails, I had grass stains...

Oh, he can fuck all the way off.

Actually, no. He and the boy in that memory can fuck off, loop the block, trip down the stairs, and take that cocky little nostalgia reel with them while they’re at it. You don’t know what possesses Park Sunghoon to just reach into the past and pluck out something golden and innocent as if it belongs to him, as if those memories are communal property—like he didn’t spend the last three years pretending none of it mattered, but there is something deeply, profoundly unwell about the way his mind works, and you once again have zero interest in diagnosing it.

Those memories should be yours. Yours only.

But maybe the tragedy of it all is realizing that they never belonged to just one of you. They’re his, too, and you can’t unshare them no matter how badly you want to. No, actually. The real tragedy isn’t that those memories belonged to both of you once—it’s that he only reaches for them when he wants to win. When it benefits him. When he wants to remind you that he still has access to something soft and sacred and yours. 

You don’t want him touching them with his dirty hands.

The boy from the garden is gone. You buried him yourself. And if Park Sunghoon thinks he gets to stand there in his perfect suit and cruel composure and decide when that version of himself is convenient to remember—

The bathroom door swings open.

You don’t have to look. You know it’s him by the way the room seems to contract, by the way your skin goes tight like it’s anticipating the impact of whatever is about to happen next.

Sunghoon doesn’t say your name. He never does when he’s like this. His expression is unreadable; it’s the same one he wears in boardrooms and press photos—except his jaw is clenched way too hard, and his gaze drops to your mouth for half a second too long, and his eyes—God, his eyes are burning holes through you.

“Really?” You huff irritably and turn to face him. “You can’t give me five fucking minutes alone?”

“Are you finally done making a scene?” 

You laugh and look around humorlessly. “You followed me into the women’s bathroom. Want to rethink who’s making a scene? Wait, actually—don’t you dare stand there and try to lecture me. Not when you getting blackout drunk at a formal fucking event is the reason I’m even standing here, wearing this—” you flash your ring finger at him, “—stupid fucking ring in the first place.”

“Keep your voice down,” he bites out, voice low enough to make your skin prickle. “Fuck. Do you want everyone to hear how desperate you are for attention?”

“If I wanted attention, I’d go up to Jungkook and ask him to fuck me on the table.” Sunghoon’s jaw clenches at that, and you want to grin, but you’re too pissed off and have a lot to say. “You know, maybe if you spent half as much energy minding your own business as you do pretending not to care about mine—”

Sunghoon locks the door. 

“The fuck? Why the hell did you lock—”

“Shut up,” He clicks his tongue and takes a step further. “I’m here to make sure you don’t ruin everything I’ve worked for. But you’d love it if I cared, wouldn’t you? Is that why you keep pushing me? Or is it just easier for you to piss me off than to admit you want something from me that you keep denying?”

“If anyone is going to ruin anything you’ve worked for, it’s you, you sloppy drunk bastard.” You bite back, but you can’t ignore the heat simmering between you. “What I want is for you to leave me the fuck alone. Or is that too complicated for Seoul’s precious little prince to understand?” you say slowly, enunciating like you’re talking to a particularly dense child. “Me. Want. You. Gone. Away. Not. Here.”

Sunghoon seems entirely unfazed. “You don’t want me to leave,” he says, as he steps even closer. “You never do.”

Fucking hell. He needs to stop eyeing you like he’s about to devour you and get the fuck out of here before you do something really, really stupid again.

“So help me, Park Sunghoon, if you take one more step closer, you’ll see exactly how far I can push you—right down those fucking stairs outside, and I’ll make sure you hit every single one on the way down—”

He’s in your space in half a heartbeat, and his voice feels like a blade at your throat. “Stop fucking talking. You talk so fucking much, you know that?”

“I do, actually! And I’ll keep fucking talking if I want to. You’ve been telling me what to do all night, as if I’d actually ever listen to you.” You shove your finger into his chest, hard enough to make his suit jacket wrinkle. “Why the fuck did you follow me in here like a dog? Huh? Should I throw you a bone to make you leave, puppy? Why are you here?”

“Because—” His voice cracks with anger, and his lips twist like the words taste sour in his mouth. “Because you make me so fucking mad I can’t even think straight. You drive me insane. Is that what you want to hear?”

Oh no. You know exactly where this is about to go. 

And you should stop it right here, right now, like a rational person because you spent the whole night swearing up and down that you were above this and that you could see Park Sunghoon one (1) time and walk away with your pride and panties intact. Oh, who the hell are we fooling?

You are about two seconds away from setting feminism back an entire decade. Oh noooooo.

“No. No. No. I don’t want to hear anything coming out of your mouth right now,” you spit back and shove him square in the chest. “Leave me alone.”

Sunghoon catches you hand when you shove him again, twisting your arm behind you and spinning you so your front slams against the marble edge of the sink.

“Let go!” You snarl, but your breath stutters when he presses right up against you and cages you in with his hips, his chest, and the iron grip of his hand. “Let go you fucking bastard.”

“Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been thinking of this whole night?” He mutters into your ear filthily. “Since you want to run your fucking mouth so bad, then say it to your own fucking face. Look at yourself.”

He growls and roughly brings his hand up to your jaw, and it’s big enough to cover nearly half your face as he forces your chin up until you’re staring at yourself in the mirror. You glare at his reflection, but the sight of the two of you like this—your body trapped between him and the sink, his broad frame blotting out everything behind you, the raw anger written all over your faces—sends a bolt of something hot and vicious right down your spine. 

You need to stop this. You really, truly do.

This is all so, so immensely wrong.

So why do you want it more than anything you’ve ever wanted in your life? 

“Hmm?” He slides his hand down your throat and curls his long fingers just tight enough to steal the breath from your lungs, and squeezes once. “Cat got your tongue, princess? Go on. Tell me to leave. I want to hear you say it while you look like this.”

It feels as though he is everywhere all at once. He is filling every inch of your space like he owns it, and worst of all, he’s curling into every corner of your mind until it feels like there’s nowhere you could turn where he isn’t already waiting for you.

You swallow against his palm. “Asshole.”

“Go on. Lie to me.”

Fuck this.

Maybe it’s the champagne ever so faintly humming through your system and making you braver than you should be, or maybe it’s something meaner. Either way, you twist hard out of his grip and slam your palms against his chest and shove him back with everything you have. He staggers a step, and you don’t give him time to recover before you’re on him, fisting the front of his suit jacket and pushing him against the wall with a grip so fierce your knuckles go white. 

“You know what, Sunghoon?” You tighten your grip on his jacket. “You’re the one who followed me in here with your tail wagging like you just can’t help yourself. So you tell me, what is it is that you want so badly? 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He tries to shove you off lightly, but you dig in harder and pin him right there. “Move.”

“No,” you spit. “Not this time. If there is something you want, you’re going to have to fucking ask for it.”

“I said move, or—”

You click your tongue. “If you wanted to move me, you would’ve done it by now. So shut up, and use your words.” You drag your mouth along his jaw to taunt him, and you feel the way his chest stutters under your palm as you throw his favorite phrase back in his face. “You can have anything you want—if you just ask for it. Or is the big, bad Park Sunghoon too fucking proud to beg for what he wants?”

Sunghoon yanks your head back just enough that your eyes meet his. 

“What makes you think you can talk to me like this?” He grits out but there’s a tremor in his voice. something that’s not anger, not entirely. “You’re such a fucking bitch. Running your filthy mouth like you weren’t out there—”

You grin and cut him off. “And you’re not getting anything from me until you ask for it, pretty prince. Up to you.”

He stares you down, and for one deliciously glorious second, you think he might actually say it.

But instead, he drags you a kiss that’s all teeth and fury, and your hands are everywhere at once—threading into his hair and tugging hard, dragging him closer like you want to fuse your mouths together until neither of you can breathe. He groans against your lips, and the sound of it goes straight to your core as you pull his jacket off him.

Sunghoon’s hands are even worse. One is fisted in your hair, and the other’s grip is possessive and greedy as he slides it down the length of your spine to grab your ass, hauling you up. He lifts you effortlessly and sets you back down so your ass lands hard against the edge of the sink. His tongue pushes into your mouth and tangles with yours, and you moan and arch your back further into him—clawing at his shirt until you’re tearing the first button open, then digging your nails across his skin hard enough to mark him.

He answers with a breathless groan and shoves your dress higher, and his fingers ghost over the band of your panties. He trails harsh kisses down the line of your throat, then dragging his tongue in one hot, wet line all the way from the swell of your breast up to your ear.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn noisy for someone who’s always telling me this can’t happen again. Is this what you wanted, you slut?”

He sinks his teeth into your earlobe and then lets it go with a slow lick, and you shudder and roll your hips up against him without shame. The feeling of him between your legs is maddening as you feel all that hardness straining right into your core, and it only makes you want more, more, more, and MORE.

You don’t bother responding to his taunts, so you just drag him down into another kiss, and he immediately melts right into you as if he flew right into the sun. Your tongue presses flat against his — intertwining and swirling — and you whine into his mouth and cling to him. He grabs your hips and grinds you down onto him harder. 

“Tell me you want me to fuck you right here like the whore you are.”

You do want to keep mouthing off. But then he’s pushing your panties aside, and you’re so wet for him it’s kind of pornographic. He can feel it too because he immediately grins like he’s won. Smug bastard.

“Fucking knew it,” he growls, sliding a finger through your slick folds. “You run your mouth like a fucking bitch and tell me to leave you alone, but you’re dripping for my cock every time I so much as look at you.”

You grab his wrist before he can feel you any further.

“Not so fast. You’re not getting it so easily.”

His eyes snap up to yours. “Don’t start playing games—”

“Oh, I’m not playing.” You laugh, pushing him back just enough to make space. “You don’t get to touch me like that unless you earn it.” 

Sunghoon cocks a brow, and you scoff right in his face.

“What? What is there to be confused about? Did you think I’d just let you fuck me immediately because you’re huffing and puffing?”

The bathroom suddenly feels too small despite how ridiculously huge it is. All you can hear is his frantic breathing now, and he looks like he might explode before he gives you even an inch of what you’re asking of him.

“Get on your knees.”

His laugh is strained and incredulous. “You really think I’m going to—?”

“I’m not here to think.” You immediately interrupt him. “On your knees. Chop-chop.”

“You’ve lost your fucking mind.”

“And you’re still on your feet,” You shrug and smile meanly. “Are you hard of hearing or just stupid? Eh. Whatever it is, I really don’t have time for men who can’t follow simple instructions. Might just leave and get someone else, honestly.”

“Someone else?” he repeats quietly, and you can see him getting angrier by the second. “Do you think anyone else could make you feel the way I do, huh?”

No. “Yes.”

He steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your cheek. “You want to test that theory, princess?” 

You let out a breathy laugh. “Who says I haven’t already?” Your throat feels tight because, for a moment, you think of Jake, and how your efforts went to shit with that. Though you keep your expression taunting as you go on. “Matter of fact, I could call him right now. You know who I mean, right? You’re just convenient right now because of proximity or whatever, and that’s all. But if I wanted to, I could—”

He smiles as his gaze flickers across your face. “I know you haven’t. You’re a shit liar. You swallow every time you lie, and you never look at me when you do it.” His thumb lifts, and he hovers it right under your chin. “Just like now. But hey—he already had his fill with you, didn’t he? And yet, I’m the one you always come crawling back to. Guess proximity must work both ways, huh? Or is it just that no one else can fuck the attitude out of you the way I do?” 

You have to physically restrain yourself from headbutting him. Why does he always have to say shit like that?

“Okay,” You roll your eyes like you’re bored out of your skull. “Since you’re so good at reading me, tell me this. can you also tell when I’m horny? Because I’m genuinely getting turned off. Like, do you think it’s hot that you’re not willing to do something as simple as ask for what you want? Because let me just tell you, this is not working for me right now.” Your hand slides between you, and you reach down to palm his hard cock right through his pants, squeezing just enough to make him twitch. “Which is such a shame, by the way, because you’re so fucking hot when you’re angry. I’d let you do anything you wanted if you could just ask for it like a big boy.”

Sunghoon grabs your wrist and yanks it away, not quite gently. “Don’t test me.”

“Hm. Last chance. If you’re not going to do it, there are about a hundred men out there who’d get on their knees just for the chance to look at me—and I don’t particularly have time to babysit your ego.”

A long, loaded silence stretches between you with your eyes locked in that ridiculous battle of wills until Sunghoon finally lets out a slow exhale and tongues the inside of his cheek like he can’t believe he’s even entertaining you.

Then, ever so slowly—like he’s physically fighting himself every inch—he drops to his knees in front of you.

There he is, down on the marble floor, all glossy dark hair and those stupidly perfect cheekbones, glowering up at you with his eyebrows furrowed so hard you think he might actually combust from how livid he is. You can feel the raw energy of his desire rolling off him like you’re standing in the eye of some ruined storm that only wants to tear you apart, burning in the way his gaze rakes over your body and snaps straight back to your eyes. 

God, he looks good like this. 

You toy with the knot of his tie and let the silk slide between your fingers as you drag it up until you’re tipping his chin up just the way you want it, putting on the most self pleased smile you’ve ever had in your life. 

“There you go. Took you fucking long enough, pretty boy,” you say, letting it drip with just the right amount of mockery.

“Fuck off,” he grinds out, and he looks like he’s seconds away from killing you, and it honestly just turns you on even more. 

See, the thing is, it’s no secret that you’ve been dying to slap him all night—God knows he deserves it—and considering the way he’s looking at you now, especially down on his knees? Yeah, he’s practically begging for it. 

So you do. 

Not too hard, but just enough to make it sting and make your point. Sunghoon doesn’t even flinch or anything; his eyes just fly wide in shock, like he cannot for the life of him believe you actually had the audacity to just do that. Before he can properly react, you grab his jaw with both hands and dig your nails into his cheek deep enough to make him groan.

“Fuck. You’ve really fucking lost it,” Sunghoon snarls, pale cheeks blooming red faintly under your grip. “You actually want to see what happens if you keep pushing me?”

“I’m not the one still on my knees,” you purr, tracing your thumb along the sharp line of his jaw before dragging it over his bottom lip. “I wasn’t kidding before. I really, really am starting to hate how you always act so tough and take whatever you want without ever asking for it first, like a real man. So I want you to beg for it. For me.”

Sunghoon’s brows pull together tighter, and if looks could kill, you’d be dead twice over. “Keep fucking dreaming.”

“So you’re telling me your pride is bigger than your dick? That’s honestly impressive. But like, hello? You’re literally on your knees? And a few words is what you want to choke on? God, you’re pathetic.”

You let go of his face and turn on your heel, reaching for bait you’ve used before on him.

“Whatever, I’m bored. Guess I’ll just go lock myself in that stall and take care of it myself, then. Maybe I’ll even moan your name if I’m feeling generous. Or better yet—I’ll go get my phone so I can send you a video or two so you see what you’re missing out on.”

You start to walk away, but you get two steps in before he grabs your wrist.

“Stop being a bitch.”

“One word, six letters. Say it, and I'm yours tonight.”

“Shut up. Just—Stop,” He grits out, and he pauses for a moment. “Stop playing games and let me touch you. Let me make you come. I need—” He swallows, eyes dark and pleading. “I need to feel you.”

You brush your fingers over his lips again, and you watch his mouth twitch and fight the urge to open for you, and it just eggs you on. “Tsk. You forgot the magic word.”

His lips curl into a snarl, but his eyes are anything but that. “Please,” His voice is trembling with something you’ve never heard before. “Please let me have you.”

Fuck.

Your clit throbs just from the sound of him, let alone the sight of Sunghoon on his knees, angry, desperate, and all for you.

“Good boy,” you purr. “Now shut up and put your mouth to work.”

He turns you and plants you back against the sink with a hard shove and then just as abruptly, he drops back to his knees. His hands slide up your thighs and drag you closer until your ass is half off the sink and your knees brace around his shoulders. His grip is brutal now—fingers digging in so deep and harshly you’re sure they’ll leave bruises—as if he’s punishing you for every second you made him beg and for every ounce of control you stole from him.

“You want to fucking play with me? Fine. Let’s see if that filthy little attitude holds up when I fuck it right out of you,” he growls, and then he spreads your legs wider, hooking your panties aside with two fingers and staring at your slick cunt with absolutely unashamed hunger. “Not. A. Sound. I’ll fucking stop and leave you here to rot if you do. Got it?”

You arch into his touch. “You talk too much.”

He digs his nails in even harder, so rough it’s almost cruel. “I said, do you fucking understand me?”

“Yes—fuck, yes, whatever—just—”

“Tsk,” He slaps you hard across the thigh, making you jolt and gasp, the sting blooming delicious and hot beneath his hand. “Talk. Fucking. Nicely.”

You glare at him, but he just raises his brows and delivers a quick, stinging slap right across your pussy. “Are you hard of hearing? Hmm? Go on. Nicely.”

Your mouth drops open, but you’re too far gone to do anything but give in. (He was literally just on his fucking knees for you anyway, so who cares?)

“Please, just—please, eat me out. Be good—be cruel—be whatever you want… just, please.”

“That’s better,” he smirks.

Sunghoon presses his warm tongue flat against your bare cunt, and like always, your thoughts immediately float up, up, and away.

The first lick is absolutely gutting. He slides his tongue up up your slit slowly, and he doesn’t break eye contact for a second. You stifle a gasp and dig your nails into his scalp, but you can’t hold back the way your hips twitch up and chase every filthy flick of his warm tongue. He growls and bites your inner thigh hard enough to make you whimper, then he licks a stripe back up and shoves two fingers inside you without warning. 

“Go on. Keep running that bratty mouth for me,” he curls his fingers inside you until your back arches. “Let’s see how fucking clever you sound with my tongue and my fingers inside this pretty pussy. And stay fucking still.”

You try—try—to stay still, but the moment his tongue finds your clit, you’re arching off the counter with one hand braced against the mirror and the other still fisted in his hair, and he immediately holds you down even harder and sets a punishing pace.

Sunghoon eats pussy like he’s trying to carve his name into your bones with nothing but his tongue.

He groans into your cunt like he’s the one getting off and his lips are so soft and plush you almost laugh, because absolutely no one with a mouth that perfect and gentle should ever be allowed to be this nasty and cruel. You watch him between your legs, and it honestly looks like he needs this as much as you do—Maybe he’s addicted. You’d tease him for it, but your brain can barely form a thought that isn’t just his name or a litany of please, and fuck and don’t stop, don’t ever stop slipping out of your mouth while his thick fingers spread you open, stretch you out, and fill you until you feel him everywhere, curling right where you need it most like he wants to coax your soul out through your cunt.

“What was that? Aw. Poor baby. Not so tough now, huh?” his voice is muffled by your cunt, and you feel him smiling into your pussy. “Look at you, already falling apart, and I haven’t even fucked you yet. You know what they’d see if anyoje walked in right now? Everyone’s perfect little princess spread out and taking it like a cheap slut.”

“Fuck y-you,” you gasp and try to twist away, but he pins you in place and slaps your thigh once more, and you wince at the sting of it. The slick sound of your wetness, his mouth, and the guttural sounds he makes when you grind down on his face make it genuinely impossible to think, to breathe, or to let alone care about whoever the fuck could walk by and hear you. “Sunghoon—My God—”

He did say not to moan, and you’ve been so, so good about it and biting it back until your jaw aches ... but there’s only so much a body can take. So the sound slips out of you, and Sunghoon’s mouth immediately tears away from you, and before you can even register the loss, his hand comes down hard against your thigh again in a sharp slap.

“What did I fucking say?” he snaps, eyes dark as he glares up at you from between your legs. “One more sound and I swear I’ll stop right when you’re about to break. You’ll stand here shaking and dripping with nothing but your own fault to blame. Got it?”

“M’sorry,” you pout. “You gonna punish me for it?”

You can tell he can see right through you. And then, to your utter disbelief, Sunghoon actually softly laughs like he can’t help himself.

“You like this too much, you little fucking masochist.” He sinks his teeth into your thigh again long enough to leave a mark, lips slick with you as he drags them up to your cunt again. “I’m not going to punish you. Nah. Why would I give you what you want? Dirty little whore like you just gets off on being slapped around, don’t you? Am I right? Hmm? You’re not getting shit. That’s your punishment.” 

Then he slides two thick fingers back inside you and pumps them deep and curls them perfectly in the way only his fingers ever know how to hit that sweet spot, and latches his mouth back onto your clit—sucking with a ruthless hunger that has your head falling back and your mouth open in a silent scream with your eyes shut tight.

“Fuck. Yes, yes, yes—oh my God, I’m so close, don’t you fucking stop—” you gasp with your hands tangled in his hair as you squeeze his face harder in your thighs.

“Yeah?” he coos. “You close? Gonna come for me, slut?”

You’re barely coherent now, grinding your hips helplessly into his face. And then, of course, his ass fucking he stops. The absence is agony. He pulls his mouth and fingers away and leaves you empty and shaking, and you snap your eyes open to look at him just as the heat in your belly suddenly starts abandoning you as you pant heavily.

“Beg for it.”

“Are you fucking deranged—”

He looks up at you and licks his lips slowly. “What’s wrong, princess? Did you really think I’d let you come that easily?”

“I’m not fucking begging you for anything,” you snap, but your hips buck into his hand like you’re starved for it. “Don’t underestimate my willingness to kill you in this bathroom, Park Sun—”

“Then I guess you’re not coming tonight.”

He lets one finger rest right over your slick, swollen clit—just pressed there as you twitch helplessly beneath him. It’s torturous, and it is cruel — and he fucking loves it. You can tell by the infamous smug look plastered on his perfect fucking flushed face, and you want to slap him so hard that his face gets dented into the drywall.

“Okay. See if I care.” you pant, and you brace yourself for a strike of lightning to hit you and smite you where you stand because you are so, so full of fucking shit. “I don’t need you to come.”

“Come on, baby, don’t say that,” he drawls and clicks his tongue. “You want me to make you come so bad, but you can’t even swallow your pride and ask for it? God, you’re pathetic.”

“Fuck you—” 

He grins, letting the pad of his finger dip in just enough to feel how soaked you still are. “Pretty thing. Look at you, spreading wide for me with your parents five rooms away. What would they think of their precious little girl? Do you think they know she’s a fucking whore?”

“Says the bigger whore. You’re so fucking disgusting.”

“You like it. Bet you’d come just from me talking to you like this, wouldn’t you? I want to hear you say you need me. I want you to say you’re my filthy little slut. Go on. Or I’ll make you wait all fucking night.”

Fucking bastard. You should’ve known he’d pull this shit on you.

“Look at yourself in the mirror,” he whispers and uses his free hand to force your chin up to make you stare at the flushed reflection of yourself. “This is what you look like when you’re desperate to come on my fingers.”

“Fuck,” you choke out, and you feel your pride dissolving into nothing in real time. “I’ll do anything. Just—let me come.”

“Anything? Now, that is what I like to hear.”  His finger circles your entrance, still not giving in entirely, but it’s enough to make you whine. “Tell me whose filthy little slut you are. I want you to say it nice and flowery, just like you look, pretty baby.”

“I’m—” The words are shameful, and you feel tears prick your eyes from the sheer overwhelming need to come and from how fucked out you already feel. “I’m your slut. Nobody else gets me like this, just you. I need you so fucking bad, Sunghoon… Please.”

“Good girl,” he rasps. “If anyone saw you right now, they’d know exactly who you belong to. Such a shame no one ever will.”

His finger finally pushes back inside, and he dips back down and presses his mouth to your clit and immediately starts sucking harshly until the room spins again. He fucks you with his thick fingers harder and harder, rings dragging in and out of you with every pump, and your entire body bows and twitches as pleasure builds up again.

“That’s it. Make a mess for me.”

Your orgasm hits so hard you almost black out (You honestly might have.( But you keep your lips sealed and don’t let a single moan escape as your eyes roll back and your whole body shakes apart.

“You look so good, baby. Dripping all over my hand and biting your tongue like a good girl. Fuuckk.”

“Sunghoon,” you pant repeatedly as he continues to finger your overstimulated cunt. “Sunghoon—Sunghoon—h—”

Then he rises—mouth and chin shining with your slick—and leans in to capture your lips before you can even catch your breath. He kisses you slowly, and you moan quietly into his mouth, and he swallows it right up with his lips pressed tight to yours as his thumb strokes your clit in slow, lazy circles. He kisses your nose, then your eyelids, gently and so reverently — and it always manages to hurt you even more than the roughness does whenever he gets like this.

“I’m not leaving you alone until you give me everything and beg me to stop.”

The joke’s on him because if he still thinks you’ll ever beg him to stop, he’s clearly never met a girl who could match him round for round. You might just be the one who ends up leaving him tired and begging for mercy.

But all your thoughts fade into static when Sunghoon shoves two of his fingers deep inside and twists it upwards until he finds that spongy devastatingly sweet spot, and he stays there — swirling his fingers, pressing into it, rubbing you from the inside out.

“Oh my god. That feels so—Why—why the fuck do you even know how to do that?” you gasp into his mouth, not even meaning to say it out loud. 

“You like that?” he tilts his head down to softly trail kisses down your neck. “It’s all you. You’re just so fucking sensitive and easy. I barely have to do anything, and you’re already falling apart for me.”

The sound of your wetness fills the bathroom as he pumps his fingers in and out. “Harder. Don’t you dare stop, Park Sunghoon, or I swear I’ll kill you—”

“Why do you keep saying don’t stop? Why would I ever stop? Just look at you—fucking shaking and twitching on my hand and still begging for more. That’s what I fucking love about you—you can never get enough, can you?”

No. Absolutely fucking not. You instantly feel the weight of a thousand suns drop right in the center of your stomach—not from pleasure at all, but from the sheer audacity of that word coming out of his mouth. 

He grunts in surprise as you drag him and crash your lips into his violently. You suck on his lower lip until he groans, as his fingers keep pumping in and out of you, and his thumb drops back to your clit and starts working slow circles that make you twitch again and again. You scratch harder and drag your nails down his neck like you want to carve your entire being into him.

“Faster, Sunghoon—fuck, you’re so good, fuck, don’t stop, you’re perfect—fuck you, fuck. I’m gonna—”

The only thing tethering you to the earth as he continues to work your overstimulated cunt through your orgasm is the vice grip you have on him and the filthy sound of his praise and groans in your ear.

“God, what the fuck are you doing to me—” you whine shakily. “Fuck.”

Sunghoon pulls his fingers out from you, and even through all your panting and shaking you simply grab his wrist, bring his hand straight to your mouth, and suck his fingers in deep without breaking eye contact. — moaning around them like it’s his cock.

He bites his lip and stares at you like he wants to eat you alive. “So fucking filthy.”

In a blink, you yanking him by his tie to devour his mouth again in an open mouthed filthy kiss. Your tongue traces the taste of yourself off his lips, and he kisses you back like he wants to fuck the air out of your lungs.

When you get his belt open and fist his cock out, you pause for a bit. Fuck… you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this hard, which is crazy because you’re pretty sure this thought occurs every single time you see him bare for you. 

Sunghoon’s pretty pink lips part and his head tips back, a guttural sound clawing its way out of his chest as you draw your fist up slowly from the thick, heavy base of his cock all the way to his flushed, leaking tip that’s dripping with need and slicking your thumb as you circle it in a lazy spiral. 

“Fuck—you’re really this needy?” you murmur as you watch another bead of precum well up and smear across your thumbs. “All pent up for me, poor thing.”

“F-fuck. You little—Fuck—”

You lean in to lick a filthy, wet stripe right up his Adam’s apple and feel him swallow around it. “Hmmm? Does that feel good?”

You don’t even get to enjoy it a second longer because his hand snaps around your wrist, and he looks down at you with dark, blown-out eyes and a crooked, dangerous smirk.

Oh, fuck off. He’s doing it again.

“I want to fuck you.”

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Well, he’s certainly never said that before. Dear God. He really should not have this fucking grip over you. Then you try anyway as you duck your head down instinctively, but he catches your face in his hand and presses his thumb into your cheeks until you’re forced to look up at him. 

“Uh-uh, not when you look like this,” he rasps. “I don’t want your mouth or your hands… Not a single fucking inch unless it’s your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock right now.”

CLICK.

Someone tries the handle, and a muffled voice calls out from the other side of the door, “Hello?!”

Reality hits you immediately. “Wait—Fuck, Sunghoon, what time is it—? Oh my god—How long have we—”

But he shuts you up by kissing you even harder and not letting you get a single inch away.

The way his hand slides between your thighs again is so tremendously possessive and unhesitant—like he’d ruin you right here no matter who’s listening, who’s knocking, or whether you’re both about to be on the six o’clock news.

“To hell with it,” he mutters as he drags his lips over your throat. “There are other bathrooms.”

You try (you actually try) to claw your way back to logic and be the voice of reason for once, if only so you can look back and say you made an effort. “You’re supposed to—Sunghoon. Wait, you asshole—supposed to maintain appearances—”

“Stop fuckin’ whining. There is not a single goddamn soul outside that door that I give a shit about right now. Nothing’s dragging me out of here until I’ve had you. I don’t care—” kiss “—if the whole fucking board tries to open that door. All I care about is you—” kiss, “—and the way you’re about to take every inch I give you.” 

You stare at him, and you think you’ve genuinely never ever been more turned on in your entire life as you pull him in to kiss him again. “You’re actually obsessed with me.”

“You’re the one spread out on this sink for me, so what does that make you?” He slides his tongue against yours so hot and filthy and the sound that spills out of you is straight up just pornographic and embarrassingly loud.  “Fuck… We’re only kissing, and you already sound like I’m balls deep in you.” He drags one hand up to squeeze your breast hard, then you whine even louder when he bites your lower lip and tugs on it while holding eye contact.  “You always make that sound for me. You like it when I kiss you? You fucking love it, don’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up. I hate you so fucking much,” you try, but your mouth is too full of him for it to matter. “I thought you didn’t want me making any sounds, huh? What happened to being quiet?”

“Maybe I’ll let them hear just enough so they know you only ever sound like this for me.”

Jesus. You shove him off before his head gets any bigger.

Just enough to break the kiss and buy yourself a single, agonizing lick of space. You reach down and drag the top of your strapless dress lower (painfully slowly) until the corset dips and your breasts spill free. — You do it just to watch the way his face changes.

And oh, does it change beautifully.

There’s no other word to describe the way his mouth falls open like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again every single time. Every single cell in his body is locked onto the swell of your breasts, and his face is carved into pure, aching hunger—the kind that looks like he’d crawl through hell on his hands and knees just to get his mouth on you. He bites down on his bottom lip so hard you half expect to see blood, and for a second, you think he might actually just come in his pants just from you baring yourself for him.

“Oh, fuck me,” He groans, and then he’s on you in half a second, rolling his thumbs over your nipples as he leans down and takes one into his mouth.“Fuck, these tits. You know how many times I’ve thought about fucking you just like this?”

For a moment, you let yourself just bask in how completely ruined he looks. You press your chest up into his mouth and gasp when his tongue flicks over your nipple and his fingers squeeze around the weight of them.

Park Sunghoon who is known to be so composed and perfect, is now devouring your breasts like a starved man.

“Yeah?” you taunt, twisting your own nipple between two fingers. “What exactly did you think about, Sunghoon? Or are you too busy drooling to answer?”

“You really wanna know, princess?” When you nod, he brings his mouth right up to your ear as his hands knead your breasts. “I’ve thought about pinning you down and fucking you with your tits squeezed tight around my cock.” Then he sinks his sharp teeth into the curve of your breast in a burning bite that makes you moan with your back arching off the counter and your chest pushing shamelessly into his mouth. “Every time I see you in one of these dresses, I think about covering them in my cum until you’re a mess. Then I’d make you lick it off your own skin while you look up at me like the needy little slut you are.”

Honestly, this might be the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life, and you’re two seconds away from letting him do whatever he wants right here—

For fuck’s sake.

What are you even doing, letting him play with you like this?

Some small rational corner of your brain is shrieking at you to hurry up before someone kicks the door down and you end up on the front page of the news, but the rest of you? The rest of you is hopelessly, stupidly drunk on him and the way his mouth is wide open around your nipple, sucking like he wants to leave you marked forever.

“Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll let you someday. Just—just fuck me and get it over with. God, you’re so slow,” you gasp, letting your head fall back against the mirror as he squeezes your tits together and licks a stripe up from your breast to your jaw. “Fuck—Are you planning on taking all night or—?”

“You really still don’t get it, do you?” he growls, squeezing your breasts rough enough to make you whine. “I don’t give a single fuck about time. You’ll take whatever I give you as slow as I want.” His tongue laps another wet stripe over your breast, then he bites down again hard enough to make your hips buck. “And next time you whine about how slow I am, I’ll keep you locked in this fucking bathroom all night and fuck you on every surface. We’ll see if you’re still a brat when you’re stumbling out to breakfast with my cum leaking down your thighs and everyone wondering why you can barely walk.”

Oh, you’re so fucking doomed.

But if there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s swallow your massive pride when it gets you what you want (especially when you want it this badly.) So yeah, screw this. You're not above a little begging — and besides, it’s not like you don’t absolutely eat up the way his eyes go pitch black and starving whenever you whine his name in that desperate, wrecked tone you know drives him mad. 

“I just wanna feel you deep inside me. Come on. I’ll be so good.”

“Say it again,” he growls against your lips. “Say my name. Say it so I know you mean it.”

You roll your eyes. “I want you to fuck me, Park Sunghoon. Want you so bad I could scream. Is that pretty enough for you? Or do you want it in writing, since you’re stupid?”

“You’re gonna eat those words, brat.” Suddenly he’s gripping your waist and hoisting you up like you weigh nothing, and then he spins you around so you’re facing the mirror.

The image staring back at you is obscene:

You, flushed and wild eyed with your lipstick smudged, tits fully all out and heaving, with Sunghoon pressed up behind you with his shirt wrinkled and his tie loosened, so much taller, so much broader, his face smeared with your lipstick and his hands already roaming over every inch of exposed skin. He bunches up your dress around your waist and shoves your panties halfway down your thighs, all while spreading your legs wide with a hand rough enough to bruise. 

“Eyes on the mirror,” He lines up behind you and lets the heaviness of his fat tip press right up against your entrance. “You wanna act like a slut, you’re gonna watch yourself be one. Don’t even think about looking away.”

And then he pushes in.

He starts so slowly and it still nearly kills you, stretching you out inch by inch as your grip tightens on the sink and you bite your lip to keep from moaning too loud (though you fail terribly.)

“Arch for me.” It hurts—not in a way you want to stop but in a way that makes your brain immediately fade into static and your body greedily arch back for more even as your muscles struggle to take all of him. 

“F-fuck—oh my god—Fucking hell, Sunghoon—‘s too much—”

“I said eyes up.” His other hand comes down to cup your jaw and force your gaze up until you’re staring straight into your own eyes in the glass as your body trembles with how full you feel. You watch the way his Adam’s apple strains in the mirror as he groans and tips his head back out of pleasure and flutters his eyes shut for a second before they snap back open, locked on you in the mirror.

“God, you’re so fucking wet—the tightest fucking pussy ever,” he pants and pushes in even deeper, and you really can’t help the way you squeeze your eyes shut at the overwhelming sensation of being stretched open like this again. You’re clenching around him so hard you nearly push him out.

“Open your fucking eyes,” he bites out meanly, but there’s something almost tender in the way he stills with his cock nearly buried to the hilt, waiting for you and searching your face in the mirror. “Look at me. Do you want me to stop? Talk to me.”

“No, don’t stop, just—fuck—” you gasp and push back against him. “I need all of you. Don’t you fucking dare stop—I need you to fuck me stupid—”

“Listen to you. Such a needy fucking whore. Bet you can feel me all the way in your stomach, huh?” he rasps and snaps his hips even harder just to hear you cry out again. “Pretty fucking pussy stretched around me—fuck, you’re so fucking tiny and barely taking me, but you’re squeezing me like you’re trying to keep me inside forever.” His hand is still on your jaw, forcing you to keep your gaze locked on the mirror, making you watch the way your mouth falls open, the way your eyes roll back, and the way your breasts bounce as he starts to push deeper. “Yeah, keep your eyes open. I want you to see exactly how stupid you look. Look at your face, look at your mouth—fuck, look at those pretty tits bouncing for me. That’s it—good little slut.” 

You moan his name even louder this time, and it’s so pornographic you almost don’t recognize the sound as your own. “Fuck, you’re so loud tonight.” Sunghoon pants behind you, and the sound of your bodies meeting echoes obscenely in the bathroom, filthier than anything you’ve ever imagined. “You really do want everyone to hear, huh? Want them all to know who’s got you bent over and drooling?”

Sunghoon shoves two thick fingers right into your mouth. “Open wider,” he commands, and you do, sucking him in so obediently and whining around them as you taste yourself on his skin, and the metal of his rings as he pushes them even deeper. He tips your head back until your hair falls over his shoulder and your neck is against him, and then his mouth is on your throat, trailing kisses as if he’s tracing the path of the ones he left there before. His thick cock pounds into you and you feel every ridge and thrust and drag against your wet swollen walls.

Your body tightens without warning, and you feel that sharp edge climbing up where pleasure tips into something feral and uncontrollable. “Sunghoon. Fuck ‘M gonna come, holy shit—don’t stop. Go faster—harder.” You can barely even hold yourself up as his thrusts start turning even more brutal and relentless. You look at Sunghoon, and you see the way his nose is scrunched with his brows pulling together hard in concentration, his mouth falling open on a rough, broken groan as he fucks into you faster.

Then his hand slides up your throat, and he curls his fingers tight enough to steal the air right out of your lungs and pin you exactly where he wants you, forcing your chin up when your eyes try to flutter shut. “You—shiiit—really don’t fuckin’ listen, do you? Don’t look away.” You hold his gaze in the mirror, and he squeezes your throat slightly. “You like this?” His grip tightens and stars spark at the edges of your vision as he presses his thumb in ever so harder. “You like it when I choke you out like this?”

You nod frantically as your lips part around another obscene moan, and that’s what does it for him. His grip tightens for one deliciously brutal second more, and then he releases you right on the edge. You gasp and shudder and cling to him with your chest heaving, and he holds you up while softly sliding his palm down your neck and caressing your throat with his thumb.  “Fuuuck—shit, you feel insane—Shit, you’re so fucking tight. So warm. You’re clenching so hard I can barely move.” Each syllable is punched into you with a bruising snap of his hips. Then he pulls almost all the way out again, cock dragging along your walls, leaving you empty and aching, before driving all his thick throbbing inches back inside in one brutal thrust. “I’m fuck—I’m getting close—shit—Keep your eyes on me. Good girl. Juuuuust like that. Don’t hold back your pretty noises.”

Sunghoon’s name rips out of your throat like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known how to say as your orgasm crashes over you so hard you almost black out. The only thing anchoring you to reality is the grip of his hands—one bruising your hips, the other tight around your throat—while you convulse and twitch, forced to keep your eyes on the mess you are in the mirror. It’s obscene, it’s raw, and it’s everything you said you’d never let happen again. But there has never been a single thing in your life that’s ever felt as right—or as wrong—as being fucked senseless in the women’s bathroom at this stupid fucking annual party or whatever as your body clamps down around him, fluttering and squeezing so tight it makes him lose his rhythm and curse under his breath.

“So fucking perfect. You know who you belong to now, don’t you? This tight little pussy is mine, you hear me? Tell me who owns you.”

Even now, all breathless and twitching, you bare your teeth in the mirror and glare at his reflection. “Fuck you. M’not telling you shit.”

Sunghoon’s mouth twists. “You wanna play that game right now?” 

His hand snaps away from your throat, and before you can even catch your breath, he pulls out of you with a rough curse, leaving you gaping and empty. You try to move, but he grabs your wrists and pins them behind you, and he rips his tie loose from his collar with one hand. You barely even have a second to struggle before he’s wrapping it around your wrists and tying it so tight your pulse jumps against the silk. You whine and attempt to mouth off, but he manhandles you and holds you steady with one big hand pressing into the small of your back to keep you balanced. He drags you back onto his cock with no patience, just brute force, fucking you even deeper with your wrists tied behind your back. You’re so dizzy and wrecked and fucked out that the part of you that should be arguing (just for the hell of it) barely even gets alerted. If anything, your brain offers up a traitorous thought that this is… hot. Does he really think this is some sort of punishment?

“Look at you, not even fighting it. Can’t even pretend you don’t like being tied up and used like a little toy. Fuck, you’re so loud—Yeah. Moan for me. Shit—Sluts like you need to be kept on a leash.”

He thrusts again deeper like he’s trying to push himself into places that don’t exist, and you feel it pressing in everywhere. In your spine, in your ribs, and in your soul. And then he just buries himself inside you to the hilt and goes perfectly still. He grabs your face in his hand and tilts your head right into himself, and his thumb presses into your cheek as he leans in.

“Now be a good girl and tell me where you want me. You want to walk out of here stuffed full of my cum and leaking down your thighs, or should I paint your pretty tits and make you lick it off in the mirror like the messy little whore you are?”

You bite your lip (still everly so defiant) and still very much cock-drunk — but the thought of him filling you up again has your knees buckling and your cunt clenching down around him. “I’m on the pill.”

Sunghoon groans, and his hand comes down hard against your ass. “Knew you’d want it. I knew you couldn’t go a single night without me filling you up—” He yanks you back with the tie even harder until your chest bows out. “You wanna walk back out there with everyone watching you while you’re dripping down your thighs and all you can think about is me inside you—”

“Ah—you talk so much,” you pant, tossing your head back against his shoulder. “I want it. I want all of it. Just fill me up.”

He twists you suddenly and wraps one arm around your waist to lift you clean off your feet and slam you back against the wall. The tile is cold, but your gasp is swallowed instantly as he crashes his mouth back into yours. It feels like forever since he last kissed you, and it’s so frantic that it feels like neither of you can afford to waste a second not kissing. He hikes your thighs up, grips under your ass, and starts fucking into you while standing, and every single thrust knocks a broken moan out of both of you. His hips snap faster, and his nose scrunches as he loses himself completely, groaning your name like it’s torn out of him. “Fuck—Sunghoon—” you moan in response, locking your legs tight around his waist like you want to fuse your bodies together until you’re one.

He moans into your mouth and bites down on your bottom lip, spit trailing between your lips. “Gonna breed you right here, baby. You ready for me? You’re gonna take every drop—bet you’d let me fuck you in every room of this fucking building. Fill you in each time till you’re just full of me and nothing else.”

“Want it,” you gasp. “Need you to come inside me. Make me yours.”

“You’re already mine. Mine to fuck, mine to fill, mine to break. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

If you had half a mind to care about anything else, like the rattling doorknob or the muffled voices outside or maybe even the shit that’s coming out of his mouth right now, you’d tell him to eat shit and die — or you’d just definitely say something smart — but all you care about is that ecstatic rush of pleasure building up once again as you feel the thick head of his cock press into you even harder from this angle. He’s grunting, moaning, and then finally burying his face in your neck as he finally loses it and spills his load deep deep deep inside you. He holds you pressed to the wall until the shaking subsides as his lips drag lazy, ruined kisses over your jaw.

He slides his hand up to untie the tie from your wrists, fingers working clumsily as he continues to slightly tremble and pant from how hard he just came. The second you’re free, Sunghoon holds you and steadies you by kissing you like he could swallow you whole. He’s flushed and pink, and sweat is dripping down his temple with his hair sticking to his forehead.

You lean in and lick a hot stripe up his cheek, dragging your tongue over the sweat at his hairline. “God, you’re so fucking hot like this, I could eat you,” you murmur deliriously against his skin and press a kiss to his nose, “Can feel you dripping out of me. Want to take care of it and make sure it stays in?”

Sunghoon grunts a curse and pushes your back up against the cold wall again, and then he drops to his knees right there on the bathroom floor without another word like he’s worshipping at the altar of your ruin. Then his hands are spreading you open to stare at the mess dripping out of you, his cum spillng slowly down your legs. “So good—so fucking perfect—I can’t believe how fucking pretty you look right now.”

He slides two thick fingers into you and gathers up every drop of his cum spilling out of you, and he pushes it back in deep. “Don’t waste a fucking drop,” he murmurs, and then he brings his face right to your cunt,t, sucking at the slick mess. “I’m going to have you like this every night until you can’t even walk, until all you know is my dick, my cum, my name, just me.”

Arching your back to offer more into his mouth, your eyes roll back as his tongue and fingers work in tandem — licking and sucking — nose pressing hard into your clit until you’re mewling for him. 

Then uou have this stupid little thought right at the edge of your brain — which is unhelpful and very much not the time for it — about how the last man you were with couldn’t even stand the sight of his own cum after. And now here you are grinding into Park fucking Sunghoon’s mouth as he eats his own cum right out of your pussy and moans into it like he’s being blessed by the heavens.

“Sunghoon—oh, fuck—Fuck—Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with you, you fucking freak?” 

It honestly isn’t the filth that has you falling apart, but it’s the way he looks up at you through his lashes while he does it. His eyes are filled with a kind of tenderness that shouldn’t exist in a moment like this, but that thought floats away as quickly as it appears when he gathers the slick on his fingers and pushes them back into your sensitive, fluttering entrance again — one finger, then two, and then he sinks a third in.

“Nothing’s wrong with me. I Just know what I want—Look at that. Stretched you out so good you’re taking three fingers with such ease now. I could play with this pretty pussy all fucking night.”

You reach down and tug on his hair hard to drag him up to look at you. “Y-Yeah? Tell me I’m replaceable now, Sunghoon. Look me in the eyes and s-say it again.”

He blinks up at you, and his brows knit together for a moment. Then he gives you a disgustingly dangerous half-smile and your heart stutters, because you’ve only ever seen him look like this when he’s drunk out of his mind.

“Can’t. I can’t,” he slurs. “No one—fuck—nobody tastes like you. I hate it. I fuckin’... hate you.”

You stare down at him, and for a second, your brain just blanks at how he’s babbling like it’s your fault his self control dissolved somewhere between your thighs. And you—God, you’re not even mad, are you? No, you’re practically glowing and melting right onto his stupid, perfect face.

Part of you definitely wants to gloat and say some nasty, mean shit, but your brain is too fried, and your pride is too busy soaking up the way he’s falling apart at your feet.

All you can do is clutch his hair and roll your hips into his face. You moan so loud you’re sure the whole building can hear it, but you truly don’t care when his mouth on your pussy feels better than sin and better than forgiveness and better than anything you’ve ever known. 

You come again with his name caught and breaking in the back of your throat, knees giving out so hard you have to grab onto him just to stay standing as pleasure rolls through you in hot, blinding waves as he stays exactly where he is — holding you together while you shake and gasp and come apart.

“Spread your legs wider. I want to see how much more you can take.”

And god help you; you already know the answer.

Somehow against all odds and most laws, you manage to pull yourselves off each other and look vaguely human again to re-enter civilization after having just broken every single promise you’ve ever made to yourself and to poor, long-suffering Wonyoung. Oh God. Let’s not think of Wonyoung right now.

You look in the mirror one last time before you turn to leave, and you somehow (kind of) look like a functioning, perfectly respectable human being and not like a girl who just got fucked to hell and back by the devil in Prada.

Also, by some absolute miracle—or maybe just Sunghoon’s freakish self-control—there’s not a single incriminating mark on your neck. Nada.

Which is crazy considering he’s always tearing into you like a feral dog. Sunghoon’s neck, on the other hand, is sporting a suspicious flush, and there are definitely like three hickeys half hidden by his collar if you look too closely (Oops.) But despite that, he somehow looks even more put together than when he went in, which is absolutely fucking infuriating and downright offensive, honestly. But whatever. The horror and shame of anticipating the looks you’re about to get when you re-enter that ballroom is so much louder than any petty anger at the fact that Park Sunghoon is apparently immune to looking like a mess. Besides, it’s also hard to keep track of anything when you’ve just spent the last five minutes bickering like lunatics while both of you were still half-breathless and trying not to strangle each other over who should walk out first and what to say and what not to say.

So the two of you do the walk of shame with the kind of composure only the truly deranged can manage: steps perfectly in sync, faces perfectly blank, and not looking at each other once. You think you’ll actually make it. Just slip right back into the crowd, pretend you were powdering your nose for an ungodly amount of time, and no one will ever know—

“ARE YOU—NO. Are you KIDDING ME?!” 

Oh, dear sweet baby Jesus. Here we go. 

Heeseung practically yells (startling the living shit out of the two of you), stumbling back into the opposite wall with his eyes blown wide with pure horror. You barely have time to blink before his finger is flying back and forth between you, Sunghoon, and the now infamous bathroom door. 

“Hee—?” you start, but you know it’s too late. You can practically see the gears in his head breaking down one by one in his head.

“Don’t Hee me,” Heeseung’s eyes flick to the poorly hidden lipstick stains on Sunghoon’s collar (your handiwork) and your slightly failed attempt at powdering up your smudged mascara (Sunghoon’s handiwork). “I was literally texting Jay and he was like, ‘Heeseung, there’s only one Sunghoon out there, man, accept it,’ and I said, ‘Noooooo, our Sunghoon? Bro he’s not capable. He drinks tea with his pinky out.’ But then—I don’t know, man, I started thinking about it… And I was like damn, it checks out. But thinking it and hearing it and now seeing it are three very, VERY different things.” 

“You told Jay?!” you wince.

Heeseung looks at you like he’s offended you’d even ask that, and then he ignores you and gestures wildly at Sunghoon again (who is seemingly too stunned to speak right now.) 

“Guys. Mannnnnn. In the women’s bathroom? At your family’s event? THAT LOUD?! Ohhhhh.” Heeseung groans sincerely. “Lord, I’m ready to come up.”

Honestly? Same. Except you’re pretty sure whatever direction you’re headed, it’s definitely not up.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, covering your face with both hands as the absolute terror of how loud you actually were comes crashing down on you. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Meanwhile, next to you, Sunghoon looks as if he’s been hit by a truck, but in classic Park Sunghoon fashion, he is valiantly remaining composed. “Hyung, you’re being a bit too dramatic,” Sunghoon says calmly. “You’re just… drunk. Let’s go sit down, yeah?”

His calmness is pissing you off.

“Do you think I have enough alcohol in my system for this?” Heeseung’s eyes bulge even wider, and you wonder how that’s even possible. “Y/N, how am I supposed to look your mom in the eye again? She literally chased me down asking if I’d seen you and I started avoiding going back in after, like, forty minutes because I was sweating so much I thought I’d leave a trail behind me. I mean, do you two just—feel nothing? No shame? Is nothing sacred? Is sex just—not SACRED anymore? Is that it?!” He fans himself dramatically. “I’m sweating again. I need to change my name and go to Bali and become a man who sells bracelets on a beach. Or maybe I’ll become a nun. Yeah. Nun sounds good. Do they take boys? Wait, do not answer that—I cannot handle a hypothetical rejection right now, I am far too emotionally fragile, and frankly, I don’t want to know. In fact, I don’t want to know anything anymore.”

“We should’ve left separately,” you hiss to Sunghoon and smack him hard in the arm as Heeseung continues to have his meltdown. “I told you. didn’t I fucking tell you? Look at what you’ve done. You broke Heeseung. Like, actually broke him. Are you proud of yourself?”

“How the hell is this my fault?” His voice is still maddeningly calm, which only makes you want to set him on fire.

“Because! Because you… and your freakish stamina and your crazy control issues and—” you gesture furiously at him up and down, “—your stupid, evil cum kink—”

Heeseung stops mumbling and makes a choked sound like a dying bird, and Sunghoon’s nostrils flare as he looks at you. “You wanna try saying that a little louder, sweetheart? I don’t think the pastry chef in the next building heard you.” Sunghoon huffs, “And I fucking said let’s wait five minutes. What did you say?” He lifts a finger in the air and drops his voice into a perfect mockery of yours: “‘Noooo, nobody’s out there—it’s already late enough, you fine, handsome man, oh, you absolute sex god, Sunghoon, please—’”

You smack him even harder this time. “I did NOT say that last fucking part—!” 

“WELL, CLEARLY SOMEONE WAS OUT THERE! Hello! I’m still here!” Heeseung points between you two, making a sound that can only be described as the death rattle of a man who saw Satan and lived to tell the tale. “Just stop. No more talking from you two. Stop saying things. No more. There are children here, you filthy sex goblins—”

“There are literally no children at this thing—”

“I’M the child now!” Heeseung plants a palm to his chest and flashes you his big, desperate, drunken Bambi eyes. “I have regressed. I need my mommy.”

“Oh my God. Can we not do this in the hallway?” You ultimately give up and groan, stepping closer to pat Heeseung on the arm in some sort of comforting way. “Come on, Hee. Deep breaths. Let’s get you some water, okay? And then, I’ll have to kill you so you can’t tell anyone about this. No hard feelings.”

“Oh, good,” he nods dramatically and gives you a thumbs up. “Make it quick. I’d rather die than live in a world where I got front row auditory tickets to the Park Sunghoon Breeding Kink Extended Director’s Cut.”

Sunghoon exhales through his nose. “Heeseung, seriously, stop fucking talking—”

“Don’t talk to me right now, Sir Breedalot.” Heeseung yelps and scoots closer to you and physically hides behind your shoulder, clutching the back of your arm like a human shield as he presses his forehead into your neck.

Sunghoon’s eyes widen comically in absolute disbelief at the nickname, and his brows raise up so much they’re practically kissing his hairline, and you nearly choke trying to keep a straight face—and the laugh escapes anyway—which you try to disguise as a cough again, which only makes it worse.

Sunghoon slowly turns to you with murder in his eyes. “Don’t,” he says flatly. “Fucking laugh.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Shut the fuck up.”

Heeseung, unfortunately, has momentum now. And once Heeseung gets momentum, God himself couldn’t stop him. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. My brother,” He pulls you closer and squeezes your arm, “Not the guy who desecrates public property with my pseudo-little-sister. Not the guy who talks during it. You talk so much. So. Much. Oh my god.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenches. “Were you fucking list—You know, you didn’t have to stand there, you freak.”

“Don’t give me that look! You know that the bathroom is right next to the fucking lounge I escape to! And for the record, I left,” Heeseung says, backing away when you also turn to glare at him. “Oh, I left. I’m not a monster. But… then I came back because… because? Bro, do you even know how long you were in there for? I thought it was a medical emergency, Sunghoon. Do you understand? I was worried. I am a good man.”

“I was fine,” Sunghoon huffs.

“YES. I KNOW THAT NOW.” Heeseung shrieks. “Wait—Is this, like, a thing now? Are you two… Is this happening? Like, for real? Because I’ve had my suspicions ever since I caught you in my own fucking living room—thanks for that again, by the way, really lovely. Nice little public sex kink you have going on right now, very cool, very not fun for me. But is this… are you two, like…? Is this a regular thing? Are you—” he lowers his voice, “—fuckbuddies?”

“Yes,” Sunghoon says immediately.

“NO,” you snap at the exact same time.

There’s a beat where all three of you just stare at each other. Then you whip around and slap Sunghoon upside the head so hard his hair flops. “Are you out of your rotten, diseased, childish mind?”

Sunghoon just shrugs like he’s above it all, but his lips are twitching at the corners. You think you might strangle him. “What? It’s the truth. And it’s Heeseung.”

“You know what? Heeseung is gonna go—Heeseung is going anywhere else. I’m gonna go sit down. Or maybe just try to lobotomize myself with a butter knife,” Heeseung groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I genuinely can’t—like, I literally can’t even process what this means for your relationship, you know? No—please, God. Especially having to sit and witness the two of you acting like you’re not hopelessly in love with each other since the dawn of civilization, like some modern-day retelling of Romeo and Juliet except you’re both freaks and meaner and, frankly, more dramatic—”

Your mouth actually falls open. Like. Fully. You stare at him in pure horror and finally find your voice. “Shut up. Oh my God, shut up right now.”

Sunghoon clears his throat loudly beside you and looks very interested in the far wall. “You’re out of your mind,” he mutters, sounding offended. “With her? Please. Don’t make me sick.”

You immediately shove Sunghoon, and he barely even stumbles back. “Oh, fuck you—”

Heeseung pauses and looks between the two of you, then scoffs and throws his hands up. “Oh, I’m the crazy one? Woowwwwww. Okay. Yeah. Let’s all gang up on Heeseung. He’s sooooo handsome and hilarious and whimsical and underappreciated.” He points at you, then at Sunghoon. “You know what? Figure yourselves out. Or don’t. I don’t care. I care a normal amount. Which is not at all because I’m normal.” He turns and starts walking away, then spins back around. “Also, you’re both NASTY. Deeply. Just so we’re clear. AND THAT’S COMING FROM ME!”

And then, still muttering to himself as a deranged man lost at sea, Heeseung disappears around the corner and leaves you and Sunghoon standing there in what is quite possibly the most cursed silence of your entire lives. 

“…Don’t fucking start,” Sunghoon says.

“Oh, I’m absolutely fucking starting,” you say, and then kick him in the shin. “We need to set some ground rules for… whatever this sex thing is.” 

Sunghoon raises a brow. “So you finally admit you want it to keep happening?”

“Don’t give me that smug look of yours,” You scowl. “It’s just sex.”

“Did I say it was anything else?” he fires back with a shrug, then he huffs out a low, humorless laugh and shakes his head. “And I don’t know what this obsession is you have with… rules, but I’m not doing that shit. Not on your terms.”

“Too fucking bad,” you fire back instantly. “I don’t care.” You jab a finger into his chest. “Go get me a pen and paper, unless you want me to carve them into your forehead.”

He stares at you like he’s deciding whether to throttle you or not, then after a moment of silence, he ultimately sighs and rubs his face. “You are so fucking annoying,” he mutters.

You smile sweetly and entirely unrepentant. “And you’re still going to listen to me. Chop chop, pretty boy.”

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