#sunghoon texts

Well, fake PR ring.

And “pretending” is putting it generously considering you’ve still got ligeral 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 slowly 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 sheets 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, you think.

No one ever looks at Seoul’s precious business prodigy and imagines he’s capable of losing control, let alone decorum.

From the outside, you look serene and every bit the beloved perfect porcelain doll perched exactly where she belongs on her 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 the 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.

Mind fucking you, 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 a mix of pride, hope, and general parental concern.

Last one is the only part they should worry about, really.

They keep breaking into these adoring smiles and wave at you like you’re still six years old and twirling onstage in your tutu again instead of swanning through a ballroom with the devil himself hanging off your arm.

Not to fucking mention, you and Sunghoon… fucking around, going on sexcapades can’t keep 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 Gods might actually smite you where you stand.

Normal people (sane people) would probably lie awake at night, mortified and consumed by guilt for making such bad decisions and ending up under the same guy over and over again after swearing she wouldn’t or, at the very least, a sense of shame, but you?

Oh, you lie awake restlessly (and terribly, terribly horny, usually with your hands down your pants, unless Sunghoon is there to do it for you) 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. 

It’s a man’s man’s man’s world, and you’re Mulan at this point, operating on the wavelengths of a ‘playboy’ you’d only see in those romance novels which are your guilty pleasure.

As you should.

Well, no actually, hold on a minute. Viva feminism and pussy power, by all means be a heartless playgirl, but not with Park Sunghoon, man who broke your heart and ghosted you and turned into a stranger, okay? Go fuck the cute bartender, bitch, you tell yourself, even though you’d rather die than ever get into bed with a stanger—or anyone else.

Sighing, 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.

Atleast you’re in new season Prada, you think. When all fails, fashion prevails.

Collarbones bare, with a double strand of Vivienne Westwood pearls around your neck, 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).

Oh, you’re also still wearing that disgusting diamond ring, too, legally obligated to and all, but you do your best to pretend it’s just another diamond ring. Hard to ignore 10 carats, but whatever.

“Stop yanking my fucking 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—”

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

Eventually, you collapse back into your chair and listen to a very tipsy Heeseung’s monologue about god-knows-what (something about how he’d trade this entire table for a bowl of Ramen right now… everyone is just smiling and nodding, being used to this) for about thirty minutes, when all of a sudden…

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.

Said enemy… is actually bonding with your sweet, sweet dad, who knows exactly about your shared history with Sunghoon that you pretend doesn’t exist, and knows the bastard broke your heart.

Over what? You’d really rather not know.

But you hear Sunghoon say, “The things you own end up owning you,” as if he’s a misunderstood film major on the low, and then you understand. The conniving bastard used your dad’s weakness against him.

“Damn you, David Fincher,” you mutter, as your dadthrows 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?

You have to do something about this. And as much as you hate small talk, it appears to be your only saving grace, to drag Sunghoon up and go mingle like a ‘happily engaged’ couple, you know… for good PR.

No matter how badly you wish not to credit Sunghoon, you could never deny how charming he is, possessing a level of sweet talk and smoothness people could only dream of as he works a room with ease, eliciting laughter out of everyone and their mother, and it honestly just pisses you off even more. But whatever.

“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 the fact that you can’t be bothered with people’s names) 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 very 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 sweet, sweet treat for an already hungry bull! Yummy.

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!

Sunghoon tightens his grip on your arm when you lightly huff a baffled laugh, and you can tell it’s his “please don’t start” warning squeeze. 

So, 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 say, politely. “But really, thank you for your kindness. It means the world.”

The woman blinks about three times, 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.”

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

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

And then, they’re gone.

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?”

Sunghoon ooks at you for a second longer, and it’s like a ghost from a past life has wandered into the room, one who made you broken promises, the sight 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, because he’s Park Sunghoon—ice-cold bastard—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 whining when you inevitably fuck up and end up plastered all over every gossip site in Seoul again. So behave, and put it away.”

“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 your tongue in a slow stripe up the shell of his ear, making him tense. “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.” 

To anyone passing by, it probably looks like a perfectly innocent moment where a doting fiancée shares a quiet word with his lover, and as you pull back, yoou can see the war happening behind his eyes as he fights not to react and give you the satisfaction.

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

He looks like he’s about to cum in his pants. Interesting! The evil interns in your brain file away a potential daddy kink for a later time.

THERE WILL BE NO LATER TIME! the kind, logical interns retort.

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 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?”

“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 ugly suits glance over. “Don’t fucking 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.”

Sunghoon leans in and whispers in your ear, “Ah. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re irreplaceable. Because you’re not. So, let’s not get cocky, princess. It’s not a good look on you.”

One thing about Park Sunghoon other than the fact that he is a charming, persuasive, cunning, bastard, is that he always seems to forget who he’s talking to.

When you’re sure no one’s watching, you act like you’re fixing his tie, but as you do, you step right on his shoe with your Louboutin heels, putting your whole damn weight behind it to dig in harder until he grunts a curse in pain 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.

An old man — you definitely know him, you do. His name? Again, work on that — 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.)

“Mr. Jung!” Sunghoon greets, and you mirror him in your own way and glue yourself to his side while also nodding along to whatever bullshit they’re talking about. 

All the while, unfortunately, as you stare at Sunghoon, you’re thinking about how you’re objectively the horniest person in this entire godforsaken room and maybe even in the greater Seoul area. Quite possibly on earth, even.

Is there… like a hotline for this? Ew, wait, not hotlines. Scratch that. Is there a ‘anti horny’ vaccine instead? Because you’re starting to think you might be a medical anomaly at this point, and you’d wire your whole entire family’s trust funds 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 youfeels 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 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! Thank God!

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 clean, thick, long fingers tighten around your arm, 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, a habit of his that you feel was personally curated to torment you all the more. Fucking great.

You can’t even blink without picturing his fingers coated in your wetness with his rings glinting as he circles your clit and works you apart. This is… rock bottom.

“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. “Unless… Is there something you want, darling?”

You don’t even realize you’re biting your lip until he looks down at your mouth.

Okay. The interns in your head are all scrambling around. 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 want to kiss her on the mouth. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, voice calm and sweet like 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 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?”

Sunghoon isn’t buying that bullshit for a second. Still, he smirks. “Try not too miss me too much, sweetheart.”

You shoot him a death glare as Ningning politely starts to steer you away with her “Baby, I’m trying my best to be a professional assistant but your dysfunction is making it impossible. I don’t want to lose my job. Please stop.” smile right before you can shove your heel up his butt.

Should you kiss her on the mouth right here and risk eternal damnation due to the fact of all of society being inherently homophobic? It’s worth the risk.

Either way, 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.

IF ONE MORE MIDDLE aged man with a fugly haircut asks Sunghoon how his father is doing in New York, he might actually kill himself infront of them.

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 or sometning. As if Sunghoon gives a shit.

“Yes, he’s well.”

“Yes, he sends his regards.”

Whole time, 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. Park Jaejoon 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, making 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, being trained for this since before he could tie his shoes and all.

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 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.

What he’s doing is 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 cheeky 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.

Whatever.

Sunghoon looks at your shared table, looking at 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 that hungers for more, and tonight, unloke most times, they technically don’t belong to his parents—it’s your empty seats—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.

Annoyed, Sunghoon looks away, 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.

Sunghoon spots you by one of the tables, haloed in the warm spill of the chandelier light with your head tilted in concentration, and you look happier than you did moments ago with him, and that alone is enough to set his teeth on edge. What’s worse is that you actually look… comfortable, an inviting, interesting, warm look dancing in your face.

And standing next to you is… 

Jeon Jungkook.

Yeah. That’s about right, Sunghoon grimly thinks.

If it isn’t Park Group’s favorite rival heir and his father’s pet nuisance, but Sunghoon doesn’t give a fuck about other people’s statuses.

Well, unless you count the status of his reputation… which is he has one 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, as Sunghoon is collecting twice the achievements Jungkook once did when he were his age.

Sunghoon 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. 

Plain and simple, Sunghoon has murder on his mind, much reluctantly to his ‘let’s pretend we don’t give a fuck’ mindset he’s trying to push.

Every part of him wants to storm over and remind Jungkook 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. 

Sunghoon just ignores the two of you for a while.

For a while, keyword! He sees Jungkook reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and his fingers brush your cheek, and it’s game over. He starts walks immediately.

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

Now what on earth could you possibly be telling Jeon Jungkook about Tokyo, when all Tokyo consisted of was you and Sunghoon fucking and fighting and fuckfighting and fightfucking and fucking and—

Sunghoon can’t breathe, 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, leaning into him when he slides an arm around your waist—your Parfum De Marly perfume wrapping 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?”

Still, all he can smell is the scent of you engulfing all his senses, and he wants nothing more than to relish in it, just to smell you forevermore. But then he clears his throat and turns to Jungkook, because he’s a well bred boy.

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. Truthfully, he wants Jungkook to die. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” he says. Shouldn’t you be at a club, being a whore? he thinks.

“Hello to you too,” Jungkook raises his glass at Sunghoon. “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, picking up the dig. “Luck has nothing to do with it.” He looks at you when he says that. Why does he look at you? “Besides, it’s not every day I get to catch up with old friends back home since I’m practically overseas all the time.” 

The way Jungkook notes Sunghoon’s passive aggression makes Sunghoon feel like a dumbass knight in some sort of fantasy game Heeseung would play who is fighting for a ladies—yours’—honor. This is so fucking stupid.

You’re a grown man, he thinks. You don’t give a fuck what she does.

“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, just shrugging.

“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 or something.”

Sunghoon is ignoring very hard how much of an asshole he’s being, blinded by red—a feeling he’d rather not name. “Same thing,” Sunghoon shrugs again. “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. Maybe his face, actually. “Someone’s gotta keep her entertained.”

Is he begging to get punched?

Sunghoon’s smile never falters. “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—a sound unlike any other you’ve made before, it’s… cute—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 Sunghoon can’t help the way he almost smiles.

You turn your attention back to Jungkook, and Sunghoon’s almost smile butns up in flames, fanning his jealousy. “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.”

If not for the memory of that exact party flickering across his mind and freezing him, Sunghoon would have punched Jungkook in the face. Seriously.

It was the summer he perfected the art of self control, and there were fairy lights tangled in the trees at your parent’s estate—a beautiful arrangement thrown together by the most expensive event planners in town, pink peonies and Parisian themed—in the open night air, and you were spinning in your Chanel 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 long ignoring you.

“You made it! I missed you Hoonie!”

Why he even came to your party, he couldn’t explain. It was a mistake, but he couldn’t help it, and he’d left just as quickly as he came.

Sunghoon remembers the ache in his heart as he swallowed down everything he didn’t know how to say and turning away coldly, and suddenly, right here, right now, he feels the same feeling inhabitating his every vein, pulsating and turning him into stone.

Meanwhile, you… can’t even pinpoint the exact moment the night turned into whatever this is, but you’re buzzing like a bee! 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 dick measuring content unfold in real time. 

Two grown hot men going at it and being passive aggressive in your favor? Oh, mama likey!

Jungkook, for all his charm, is just being himself—more or less harmless unless you really wanted something. 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.)

But you’re not stupid, and 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, huffing and puffing like a jealous rabid wolf.

It’s not that he cares about you, 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 touching his toys, just like back when you were kids in Heeseung’s playroom, 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. 

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

Jungkook snorts. “Ah, you know, 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.”

Sunghoon frowns. “I’m sorry, did you just—”

You blink. “Stupid—?”

“Now, now, it’s just an observation. You’ll figure it out.” Jungkook shrugs and looks between you with a knowing look. “Try not to kill each other. But anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Don’t want to stand in the way of true loveeeeeeee!”

With Jungkook gone, you immediately pull away from his grip, 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,” Sunghoon says. “I know I am.”

You scoff. “You arrogant bas—” 

“And I was just making conversation. Or would you rather I stand here and let him eyefuck my ‘fiancée’ right in front of me?”

Despite everything you’ve been telling yourself, you almost say it.

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, or anything at all.

“Jealous, much?” you huff.

Sunghoon gives you a look. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. When are you finally going to get it through that stubborn 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.” 

“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 say rather angrily, turning around to leave. And just like that, three steps in, he grabs your hand.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs, pausing. Then he adds, “People were staring, it’ll look like you’re storming off after an argument. Stop being so bratty.”

What else did you expect him to say, really?

“Let me go. I’ll do whatever I want,” you retort curtly.

Sunghoon doesn’t let go. “I know. Do whatever the hell you want. But you’re not going anywhere with him. He’s—”

You laugh in his face, surely turning a few curious heads around you, but you’re uncaring for who sees at all. “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? Does that ring a bell?”

Sunghoon scoffs, darker this time. “Keep pushing, and I’ll remind you what happened the last time you mouthed off.”

You hum just to piss him off, yanking your wrist free. “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.”

You walk away before he can say anything else.

“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 ass 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 very profoundly unwell about the way his mind works, and you once again have zero interest in diagnosing it.

Sighing itritatedly, you unclip the double strand of Vivienne Westwood pearls from your throat with shaking fingers because it suddenly feels like it’s cutting off the last bit of air in your lungs, tossing them on the makeup counter in tje bathroom.

Those memories should be yours. Yours only.

Maybe the tragedy of it all is realizing that they never belonged to just one of you, and that once someone breaks your heart, they get to live forever with the happiness you two once shared, as undeserving as they may be.

They’re his memories too, and you can’t unshare them no matter how badly you want to.

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—

Suddenly, the bathroom door swings open, and someone steps inside.

You know it’s him by the way the room seems to contract, and when you look at him in the mirror, it feels like his eyes are physically 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 the literal women’s bathroom humorlessly. “You followed me into the women’s bathroom. Want to rethink who’s making a scene?”

“You were being—”

“Shut up! Don’t you dare stand there and try to lecture me, me! Of all people! The only reason we’re standing here is because your idiotic, immature, irresponsible, ignorant ass got blackout drunk at a formal fucking event. That’s why I’m wearing this—” you flash your ring finger at him, “—stupid fucking ring in the first place. Or have you forgotten?”

“Keep your voice down,” he bites out, voice low enough to make your skin prickle. “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 turns around and locks the door. 

You scoff. “What the fuck? Why the hell did you lock—”

“Shut up,” Sunghoon belows. “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?”

“You just said a whole bunch of bullshit.,” You bite back with a scoff. “Mind you, if anyone is going to ruin anything you’ve worked for, it’s you, you sloppy drunk bastard.”

Heat simmers between you as you step closer, not even giving him a chance for him to talk. “What I want is for you to leave me the fuck alone. Or is that too complicated for Seoul’s precious lprince to understand? Let me help you out,” you say. “Me. Want. You. Gone. Away. Not. Here,” you add slowly, enunciating like you’re talking to a dense child

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—”

“Stop fucking talking. You talk so fucking much, do 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. 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— Because you make me so fucking mad I can’t even think straight. You drive me insane. Is that what you want to hear?”

“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.

Oh no. Well, it’s been lovely, kind interns.

You know exactly where this is about to go. 

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

Really, 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?

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

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

Sunghoon hand forces your chin up until you’re staring at yourself in the mirror, hand big enough to cover your whole entire face.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—only worsens your medical anomaly akin horniness.

This is all so, so immensely wrong.

“Cat got your tongue, princess? Go on. Tell me to leave. I want to hear you say it while you look like this.”

But it feels so, so terribly right.

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.

“Asshole.”

“Go on. Lie to me.”

Fuck this.

You twist hard out of his grip 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 ballistic. 

“You know what, Sunghoon? 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?” Sunghoon tries to shove you off lightly, but you dig in harder and pin him right there, a gesture you realize isn’t because he’s stronger, but… he’s right where he wants to be, as angry as he looks. “Move.”

“No,” you spit. “If there is something you want, which I also know you do because you also have a look that gives you away, newsflash! — then 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 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?”

“Beg?” Sunghoon laughs. “What makes you think you can talk to me like this?”

“Yes, beg, bitch. You’re not getting anything from me until you ask for it, pretty prince. Seriously. It’s totally up to you—”

Suddenly, Sunghoon furiously drags you into a kiss that’s all teeth, 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, which really is what your aim is anytime your mouth finds his again.

Sunghoon groans against your lips, and the sound of it goes straight to your core as you pull his jacket off him.

Where your hands are greedy to a biblical degree, Sunghoon’s hands are even worse. A mix of wrath, lust, greed, all at once.

One is fisted in your hair, and the other’s grip is possessive as he slides it down the length of your spine to grab your ass, hauling you up. He lifts you effortlessly and sets you down on the sink, his tongue pushing into your mouth and tangling with yours at the same time—and you’re clawing at his shirt until you’re tearing the first button open, exposing his toned, beautiful chest, then digging your nails across his skin hard enough to mark him.

Sunghoon answers with a breathless groan and shoves your dress higher, and his fingers ghost over the band of your panties. He kisses down your throat, then dragging his tongue in one hot, slick 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?”

“You’re the fucking slut,” you breathe. “All this because you got jealous and wo—”

A gasp is elicited out of you as he sinks his teeth into your earlobe, cutting you off, and you roll against him, shamelessly so. If he wants to call you a slut, you might aswell live up to the reputation! The feeling of him between your legs is maddening as you feel his hardness straining right into your core, and it only makes you want more, more, more, and MORE.

Breathlessly, you drag him down into another kiss, and he immediately melts right into you as if he flew right into the sun. “Who were you calling a slut? Seriously?” you breathe into the kiss.

“Shut up.”

Your tongue presses 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,” he says.

By now you now that if you mouthed off, you’d be in here forever, so you just keep your mouth shut and nod. Sunghoon pulls your panties to the side, and you’re so wet for him it’s kind of pornographic, and when he feels it, he immediately grins like he’s won. Smug bastard.

“Fucking knew it,” he growls, sliding a finger up and down 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.”

Not even Park Sunghoon can get away with calling you a bitch. You grab his wrist before he can feel you any further. “Not so fast. You’re not getting it so easily.”

Sunghoon’s 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?” you say. “Shiver me timbers! Can you come up with something new?”

And then, the cherry on top, you say, “Get on your knees.”

Sunghoon laughs, strained and incredulous, giving you the most baffled look of all time. “Do you genuinely, actually, seriously, really think I’m going to—?”

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

Sunghoon continues to stare at you like you’ve grown 12 heads. “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.” You let out a breathy laugh. “Matter of fact, I could call him right now. You know who I mean, right? You’re just convenient right now because of… the proximity or whatever, and that’s all. But if I wanted to, I could—”

Sunghoon 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. No one else can fuck the attitude out of you the way I do, can they?”

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, even though you’re the horniest you’ve ever been in your life, like your clit is pulsating like a metal finder at a beach. “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…. Yeah, this is soooooo not doing it 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 yanks your hand away. He looks dazed, but you can see he’s putting up a fight, scoffing. “Yeah, okay. You’ve actually lost your mind.”

“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, until Sunghoon finally lets out a slow exhale and tongues the inside of his cheek. 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, his perfect 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. A true Greek God, though even Aphrodite herself couldn’t conjure beauty like this up.

You toy with the knot of his tie, putting on the most self pleased smile you’ve ever had in your life, tipping his chin up. “There you go. Took you fucking long enough, pretty boy,” you purr.

“Fuck off,” he grinds out, and if looks could kill, you’d be dead twice over.

See, the thing is, it’s no secret that you’ve been dying to slap him all night (God knows he deserves it)… So that’s exactly what you do!

Might aswell play into the femdom narrative while you’re at it.

Sunghoon, head turned to side, looks back at you with his eyes wide in shock, genuinely startled by your audacity. You grab his jaw with both hands and dig your nails into his cheek deep enough to make him groan, not even giving him a chance to breathe. “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. “Keep fucking dreaming.”

“So you’re telling me your pride is bigger than your dick? That’s genuinely impressive.” You nod solemnly. “You’re literally on your knees and a few words — the bare minimum, by the way — is what you want to choke on? God, you’re pathetic.”

And with that, you turn to walk away, fully intending to leave him hanging. But he grabs your hand, still on the floor“Stop.”

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

“Shut up. Just—Stop,” He grits out, and he pauses for a moment, frustration swimming in his eyes. “Stop playing games and let me touch you. Let me make you come. I need—” He swallows. “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. “You forgot the magic word.”

“Please,” His voice is trembling with something you’ve never heard before, an ecstatic jolt rushing through you. “Please let me have you.”

“See? That really wasn’t so hard, was it?” 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.”

Sunghoon furiously gets up, and ppants you back on the sink with a hard shove. 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. With a bruising grip, 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 fake yawn. “You talk too much.”

Sunghoon digs his nails into your thighsl. “I said, do you fucking understand me?”

You wince. “Yes—fuck, yes, whatever—just—”

“Tsk,” He slaps you hard across the thigh, making you jolt and gasp, the sting blooming deliciously under 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? Or just stupid? Hmm? Go on. Nicely.”

Your mouth drops open, but… 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.”

Sunghoon smirks. “Was that so hard?”

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

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, the wetness of your pussy aiding in that, but it’s still a painful shove. 

“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.”

Sunghoon eats pussy like he’s trying to carve his name into your very being with nothing but his tongue, and leave a mark everywhere.

All with groaning into your cunt like he’s the one getting off, You watch him between your legs, and it honestly looks like he needs this as much as you do—Maybe he’s addicted.

You know you are.

You’d tease him for eating you out like an actual man under a spell, but your brain can barely form a thought that isn’t just his name or 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.

“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, and even more at the sendation of him eating you out, and the sounds filling this bathroom. “Sunghoon—My God—”

Sunghoon 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 girl can take.

So the sound slips out of you, and man of his word—Sunghoon’s mouth immediately tears away from you, his hand coming down hard against your thigh again in a sharp slap.

“Bad fucking girl. What did I say?” he snaps, eyes dark as he glares up at you from between your legs.

“M’sorry,” you pout. “You gonna punish me for it?” The idea of it excited you, really.

Aaaand 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.” 

This is the worst day of your life.

Sunghoon 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, you’re squeezing his head so tight you fear his head might pop like a watermleon… those… those watermelons with… the rubber… Fuck, you can’t think.

This is the best day of your life!

“Fuck. Yes, yes, yes—oh my God, I’m so close, don’t you fucking stop—”

“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.

“Beg for it,” he says.

“Are you fucking deranged—”

Sunghoon 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—”

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

“Okay. See if I care.” you pant, not even moving to arch into him to prove a point, and you brace yourself for a strike of lightning to hit you and smite you where you stand again 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.”

Fucking bastard. You should’ve known he’d pull this Uno reverse shit on you. “Fuck you—” 

“Look at yourself in the mirror, kitty,” 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, but too stubborn to ask for it.”

“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—” You can do it. You can do it. You can do it, you keep yelling yourself. “I’m your slut. Nobody else gets me like this, just you. I need you so fucking bad, Sunghoon… Please.”

“Good girl. If anyone saw you right now, they’d know exactly who you belong to.” He pauses, smirking. “It’s such a shame no one ever will.”

Sunghoon’s fingers 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, and your entire body bows and twitches as pleasure builds up again with every pump of his perfect fingers inside you.

“That’s it. Make a mess for me.”

Like a perfectly behaved heiress, you keep your lips sealed shut and don’t let a single moan escape as your eyes roll back and your whole body shakes apart, orgasm undoing you.

“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—”

Sunghoon gets up—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, and you taste yourself. He moves to kiss your nose, then your eyelids as you pant, 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.

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, a move only a whore could know. How does he know how to do this?

“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. 

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

“God, what the fuck are you doing to me—” you whine shakily, stars dancing in your eyes as another orgasm builds up just as fast. “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.

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

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, and seriously, will you ever get used to the size of him? You don’t think you ever will. It’s truly something you’d only see in a sex shop in Amsterdam in the dildo corners that would make you go ‘Who the fuck would buy that one?”

True story.

Look at that. God gave it to you for free!

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. 

“Needy baby puppy, so cute,” 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. “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. Why does he never let you suck him off?

“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. Also, no man should ever have you desperate to have his dick in your mouth, but here you are, ducking your head down anyway.

Once again, like every other time, he stops you. Sunghoon presses his thumb into your cheeks until you’re forced to look up at him. 

“Uh-uh, not when you look like this,” Sungjoon says. “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.

Suddenly, 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 fuck you right here no matter who’s listening, who’s knocking, or whether you’re both about to be on the news and every single society blog Seoul has to offer.

“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.” 

Well… He is right, there are several other bathrooms in this hotel.

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. 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.

And so, you slide your dress down, baring your chests to him.

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 as if he’d crawl through hell on his hands and knees just to get his mouth on you.

“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?”

“Yeah?” you taunt, twisting your own nipple between two fingers. “What exactly did you think about?”

“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.”

“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. 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.”

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. Just for him.

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

Suddenly he’s gripping your waist and hoisting you up effortlessly, and then he spins you around so you’re facing the mirror, an image so obscene awaiting you it could only be seen in porn.

Lipstick all smudged, flushed, tits fully hanging out and heaving, with Sunghoon pressed up behind you, shirt open and tie loosened, so much taller and so much broader, his face smeared with your lipstick. He bunches up your dress around your waist and shoves your panties halfway down your thighs, all while spreading your legs wide. 

“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. As always, as attentively as ever due to the fact that his dick is unlike any other, and also the fact that…

“You’re too fucking tight,” he groans.

Yeah, that… He goes slowly, even the amount of fingering and fucking you’ve already done throughout the weeks not being enough to ever stretch you out — your grip tightening on the sink, and you bite your lip to keep from moaning too loud (though you fail terribly, and a scream tumbles from you.)

“Arch for me. Hey, relax.”

You’re too tense because it hurts, but you arch all the same, eyes snapped shut despite your orders not to do so, but you genuinely can’t. Once again, you think you might die from the stretch as he eases in, just the tip in. “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. “Good girl.”

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 and it still doesn’t fit… tightest fucking pussy ever,” he pants and pushes in even deeper, and you really can’t help the way you squeeze your eyes shut again at the overwhelming sensation… It’s painful, truly, the best kind of pain, making you clench around him so hard you nearly push him out.

“Stop closing your eyes. 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.”

He must’ve noticed how badly you were holding yourself together and biting down on the pain. Cute. Still, you push back against him, your nerves ripping open as well as your pussy, and he groans.

“No, don’t stop, just—fuck! I need all of you. Don’t you fucking dare stop—I need you to fuck me stupid—”

“I will. I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll know nothing but me,”Sunghoon snaps his hips hard, fucking you with half his length. “We’ll take it nice n’ slow, just the tip for now, hmm?”

“Fuck—just fuck me!”

You watch as his head tips back again, his veiny sweaty neck bared… a beautiful, sweet reward for the hardships your pussy is going through. “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.”

Sunghoon’s 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.

He’s almost all the way in, and he pushes in again, and 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, shoving two thick fingers right into your mouth, and if it were anyone else, you’d genuinely stop the fucking and cut your own tongue off for the possible exposure to germs, but it’s him, so you suck on them.

“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. “Yeah. Choke on it.”

His thick cock pounds into you and you feel every ridge and thrust and drag against your wet swollen walls, and your body tightens all of a sudden.

“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, his dick finally bottoming out all the way inside you.

“AH! Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so big… so fucking big,” you moan, wholeheartedly, a moan you’ve only ever really meant with him. No shade to the only guy you’ve been with who is out there in those halls right now.

Sunghoon’s hand curl around your neck, squeezing. “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 again. “Do you like this?” His grip tightens and stars spark at the edges of your vision as he presses his thumb in ever so harder. “Do you like it when I choke you out like this? Huh?”

“Harder.” You nod frantically as your lips part around another obscene moan. His grip tightens for one 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, leaning over to kiss you softly as he fucks you anything but softly.

“You’re clenching so hard I can—fuck! 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 screame.”

“SUNGHOON!” His 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, leaving you delirious and hazy.

Right about now, it’s reached the state where you wonder if this is the end, though you know it isn’t, tethered only by 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.

“Yeah, take it. Take it all.”

It’s obscene, 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 as being fucked senseless in the women’s bathroom at this stupid fucking annual party… or whatever the hell it is, by Park Sunghoon, 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. Tell me who owns you.”

You scoff, dazed. “Not… you.”

“Your pussy says otherwise, baby.” Sunghoon 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, fucking you even deeper with your wrists tied behind your back. Does he really think this is some sort of punishment?

“Look at you, you’re not even fighting it. Can’t even muster up the courage to pretend you don’t…. fuck…. 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.”

Sunghoon 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, your absolute favorite thing, as close as he can physically get.

“Now be a good girl and tell me where you want me. You want to walk out of here stuffed full of my cum?” he breathes, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

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 still on the pill.”

Sunghoon groans, and his hand comes down hard against your ass. As always, his reaction to ffilling you up is pure ecstasy. “I 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 against his back. “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.”

Sunghoon twists you and slams 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, relief of sorts flooding you, and it’s so frantic that it feels like he too is relieved—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, if only to fuse your bodies together until you’re one. You wish that could be possible.

“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.

And especially the high of coming together.

Sunghoon himself is 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 kisses over your jaw.

Untying your wrist, he’s still panting from how hard he just came. The second you’re free, Sunghoon steadies you by kissing you, and you pull back to look at him.

He’s flushed and pink, and sweat is dripping down his temple with his hair sticking to his forehead, and it makes your heart soar in your chest.

You lean in and lick his cheek, up and up, 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, “I 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 your altar.

Spreading you out, he stares at the mess dripping out of you, his cum spillng slowly down your legs. “I can’t believe how fucking pretty you look right now. And you’re all mine.”

You moan as 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, leaning in to kiss your clit. “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. 

Stupidly, — yes, you realize this little thought is unhelpful and very much not the time for it — you think about how the last man you were with couldn’t even stand the sight of his own cum after, feeling icky about… his literal own fluids, or whatever.

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.

What a devoted, devoted man.

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

It honestly, really, truly 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,” he says. “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 before he smiles. 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.”

ALAS, YOU PREVAIL FROM THE one of a kind horny anomaly, after having broken every promise you made to yourself and to poor, long suffering Wonyoung. Oh God. Let’s not think of Wonyoung’s angry self 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. Is he like… What’s his face from How I Met Your Mother? The guy who is like, impossible to be caught off guard in photos? Fuck!

You sigh. 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 immine to looking like a mess.

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 if anyone saw you.

Walk of shame, it is.

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 of shame.

“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… with his fuckin’ pinky out like some lead on Bridgerton, bro.’ 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, considering him and Sunghoon and Jay are three peas in a pod, and then he ignores you and gestures at Sunghoon again (who is seemingly too bored to speak right now.) 

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

“Same,” you mutter, looking up too. (Except you’re pretty sure whatever direction you’re headed, it’s definitely not up.)

“Hyung, you’re being a bit too dramatic,” Sunghoon says calmly. “You’re just… drunk. Let’s go sit down, yeah?”

Okay. His calmness is pissing you off. Why does he always get to be so calm and so perfect and so—

“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 physically can’t handle a hypothetical rejection right now, I am… like… wayyyyyy too emotionally fragile, and frankly, I don’t want to know. In fact, I don’t want to know anything anymore. LOBOTOMIZE ME.”

“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?”

“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, giving him the worst of your looks you can muster. “I did NOT say that last fucking part—!” 

“WELL, CLEARLY SOMEONE WAS OUT THERE! Hello! I’m still here!” Heeseung points between you two, sobering up by the second due to this exchange. “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.”

“Can we…. just 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 know about Park Sunghoon’s breeding kink.”

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

“Don’t talk to me right now, Sir Breedalot.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widen comically in absolute disbelief at the nickname, brows raising, 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, so you really just give up and laugh.

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 talks during it… WITH MY PSEUDO LITTLE SISTER, NO LESS! 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—”

“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 in silence. Then you whip around and slap Sunghoon upside the head so hard his hair, which you combed for him with the Mason Pearson comb you always keep in your purse, flops again. “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 GENUINELY more dramatic—”

“Oh my God, shut up right now,” you hiss. “You’re crazy.”

Sunghoon coughs. “Shut up.”

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!”

Just so, Heeseung tipsily disappears around the corner and leaves you and Sunghoon standing there in what is quite possibly the most cursed silence of your entire lives. 

“We need to set some ground rules for… whatever this sex thing is,” you say.

And the rest, is history.

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