𝗻𝗶𝗮 ★

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˖ ݁ ˓ 𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✸‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Park Sunghoon kneels at an altar made from your tears, mistakes his obsession as absolution, and call claims his hunger is just devotion. He is caught somewhere between salvation and damnation—still, he convinces himself that loving you is a holy act.

2406 𓏲࣪ 🥛🩰 ──── ୨୧ 𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽. 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 x 𝒇.reader triggering content — 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘆, 𝗽𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗺𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲, 𝘁𝗼𝘅𝗶𝗰 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗱𝘆𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗰𝘀.

𝓦𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 :‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 ; minors do not interact. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎愛 ❜ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✶‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ possessive!sunghoon :: obsessive behaviour :: dacryphilia :: emotional manipulation :: oral (f. receiving) :: unprotected p in v :: use of religious imagery/sacrilegious metaphors :: pet names (angel, pretty, good girl etc.)

NIA’S LETTERBOX ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎★‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ this is an old work of mine that i posted on my previous account. so if the writing looks familiar or you feel as if you’ve already read it, it’s probably why. back when i wrote it, i didn’t know the meaning of a lot of words so i had to search them up constantly, and i probably made a lot of mistakes while using them or messed up imagery in some places as well. i wasn’t confident about posting it back then, and i’m not so sure now as well. if you’re someone who is sensitive to religious themes, please, continue scrolling.

i will probably write more around this style in near future because while i’m not satisfied with my work, i do want to explore how i can weave religious imagery in my writing. it has always been a topic that intrigued me immensely. anyways, i apologize if there are too many mistakes. one of my friend proof read it, but despite that, grammatical and typographical errors may still be present.

Park Sunghoon had long accepted that whatever lived inside him when it came to you wasn’t normal, moral, or sane.

It wasn’t tenderness, not really, nor was it simple affection. It was something older, darker, crawling through his ribs like a living thing. The first time he saw you flinch at a harsh word from someone else, he’d felt a violent spike of emotion that he couldn’t name—something protective and possessive all at once, something that told him you were built of finer material than the rest of the world, too delicate to exist without someone who knew how to handle you, hold you, protect you.

And he believed, with a conviction that bordered on delusion, that he was the only one who understood your softness. You weren’t made for indifference, for cruelty without purpose, for the careless hands of people who didn’t notice when you fell silent or shook a little too hard. No, you were made for someone like him, someone who could see exactly where you’d crack, and someone who could decide when to press his thumb into that crack or when to shield it from every other touch.

In simpler words, you were made for someone who knew how to break you intentionally.

But it was your tears that truly undid him. They took the version of him he pretended to be and tore through it like paper. He remembered the moment he realized it—that stupid fight, your small frame drawn in on itself as if you could swallow your own hurt before anyone could witness it. You’d turned away from him, shoulders trembling, breath catching in the space between one heartbeat and the next. And then your voice broke—thin, desperate, wounded—and your eyes filled too quickly for you to hide it.

The tear that fell had his lungs collapsing. Sunghoon felt his heartbeat stutter, then surge, flooding him with something so intense he had to steady himself to keep from reaching for you too soon. Most people would have felt guilt first. Most people would have apologized immediately. But Sunghoon wasn’t most people. The sight of you crumbling because of him didn’t scare him away, it dragged him closer. It awakened something primal, something that thrived on your vulnerability and wanted to drown in it.

He didn’t just want to comfort you, he wanted to consume you. To fold you into him so deeply you couldn’t tell where your vulnerability ended and his obsession began. And the worst part was how effortlessly that hunger tangled with a second instinct—the fierce, almost obsessive need to shield you from the world. It made him feel deranged, two impulses clashing inside him until all he could do was stare at you with a kind of reverent madness. He wanted to be the one who pushed you to tears and the one who wiped them away. He wanted to see you break and then lock you against his chest until you were safe, soothed, dependent. You looked up at him with those wide, glassy eyes—the kind of gaze that makes a man feel powerful and helpless in the same breath—and he almost told you the truth. That he loved your tears. That he loved the way you fell apart. That he felt more alive in that moment than in entire years of his life.

When he touched your cheek, wiping the tear with his thumb, the tiny flinch you gave shot straight through him like a drug. You didn’t pull away, not really. You didn’t fight him. You simply reacted. Soft, startled, vulnerable. And it made something in his chest twist with satisfaction.

She listens to me. She responds to me. She breaks for me.

The thought alone nearly overwhelmed him. But right behind that darkness came an equally consuming instinct, one that curled around his heart like a chain—you were his to protect and break. The contradiction didn’t bother him, rather, it defined him. You were his little crybaby, his fragile girl, his trembling porcelain thing meant to be guarded fiercely and ruined reverently. And Sunghoon knew, knew in a way that made his breath slow and his pulse steady, that he would destroy anything that threatened your softness. Even if that threat was his own temper. Even if that threat was the world. Even if that threat was you. Because losing you wasn’t an option. Letting you slip out of his grasp wasn’t something he could survive. You weren’t just someone he cared for—you were the one thing that awakened every dangerous thing inside him, the only weakness he embraced willingly. And he didn’t care what that made him. Not when every tear you shed only bound you tighter to him.

He told himself he hated that part of him. He told himself decent people didn’t feel this way when someone they cared about cried. But the lie never held. The truth was uglier and far more intoxicating: your tears made him feel chosen. They felt like proof. Proof that his words mattered, that his presence carried weight, that he could reach into you and pull something fragile and raw to the surface with terrifying ease. Watching you fall apart because of him didn’t repel him, it grounded him. You trusted him enough to be weak in front of him, even when that weakness was something he’d drawn out himself. And that trust made him feel powerful in a way nothing else ever had.

He hated himself for making you cry, loathed the way your sobs trembled out of you like confession, but he loved what followed just as much. Loved how you always turned back to him, clinging for comfort from the very man who had driven you to your knees. Like now, with your plush thighs bracketing his head, your fingers knotted in his dark locks as if in prayer, tears soaking into the pillows beneath you like an offering laid at an altar. If this was sin, then he was already damned, because he swore he never felt closer to heaven.

The taste of you felt sacramental, the scent of your skin clung to him like incense smoke, and your broken cries rang in his ears like hymns meant only for him. In those moments, he told himself this was absolution, that your need sanctified his hunger, that your tears baptized his soul, that loving you this way was not corruption but communion, a holy refuge carved out in the midst of everything he wanted and should never be forgiven for.

“Sunghoon—” your voice fractures around a shameless moan, the sound breaking apart as your fingers tighten in his hair, caught between wanting to push him away and the desperate need to pull him closer, to keep him right where he is.

He never gives you the choice. His arms lock around your waist, firm and unrelenting, pressing you back into the mattress every time you lift your hips in a futile attempt to squirm away. There’s something feral in the way he moves, a barely restrained hunger, teeth tugging lightly at your sensitive clit, tongue tracing slow, deliberate path along your folds as if he’s memorizing every reaction you give him. The silk sheets beneath you are soaked through, clinging to your skin, heavy with the remnants of your previous orgasms and syrupy slick, your thighs dampened and oh-so-adorable.

You were sensitive, though it doesn’t slow him down. If anything, it sharpens him. Your helpless whimpers, the way his name spills from your lips between sobs, do something irreversible to him. Each sound feels like surrender, like worship offered freely, and he takes it as such, devotion curling tight in his chest, twisted and consuming, bordering so closely on obsession that he no longer knows where desire ends and his madness begins.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts, large hand pressing into the soft flesh of your tummy to keep you pressed against the mattress. His tongue is relentless, switching between licks and sucks that leave you feeling lightheaded, almost dumb. “No running away, pretty girl.”

A protesting whine rises up your throat, fingers slipping away from his hair to nudge his head. You were so sensitive, it was ridiculous, but Sunghoon isn’t ready to let you go until he’s satisfied.

“Hoonie, please,” you hiccup, thighs trembling so pathetically it’s almost cute.

Sunghoon flattens his tongue over your puffy folds, dragging the wet muscle from your fluttering hole to circle your clit. It earns him a delicious moan, your fingers clawing at the silk sheets. He watches how your chest rose and fell, your soft tummy marred with the peachy indents of his nails. You looked so pretty spread out for him.

“You cry so easily,” he coos, lifting his head slightly to flash you a grin, his chin smeared with your wetness, pupils blown wide, and dark hair sticking to his forehead. “One word and you’re sobbing pathetically like a baby, hm?”

His long fingers trace up your inner thighs, brushing against the violet and blue marks of love bites and slowly inching closer to your weeping cunt. The tip of his middle finger circles your entrance, not quite entering you just yet. He wants to see you beg for it, but he knows his own impatience is taking its toll.

He watches, mesmerized by the way your hips jerk up when you don’t mean to, how your hole clenches around nothing. So desperate to be filled even after he has been tormenting you. He wants to continue teasing you, continue making you cum around his thick fingers and in his mouth until you’re nothing but a dumb little mess. Yet, he couldn’t keep ignoring his own need for much longer.

With one final kiss on your inner thigh, he got up, lips shiny and eyes dark. His hands travel up, up, uppp your body, groping your tits, watching as the plump flesh spilled out from between his fingers.

“Feeling good, pretty?” He asks teasingly, thumb circling a pebbled peak before he leans down to tug at it with his teeth. Your head thumps against the pillows, tears drying on your flushed cheeks. And oh, he wants.

God must love him, for He has allowed someone like you to fall right into his arms.

What more could he want anyways?

Once his question registers in your mushy head, you manage to offer him a weak nod, thighs spreading wider to accomodate him. “Y-Yeah,” you mumble, fingers loosing its grip around the sheets.

Sunghoon merely hums, lifting his face to adjust himself properly, the mushroom head of his cock nudging your slit. “Relax for me, please?” He murmurs, lips set in a thin line. He pushes in gently, aware that you were sensitive after cumming twice, though the second your wet heat envelopes the tip of his cock, he is gone.

Utterly, stupidly, and completely gone.

It doesn’t matter how many times he has done this, he still feels like he is on the cloud nine. The wetness made the slide easy and your back arched once he bottoms out. You couldn’t stop the noise that leaves your mouth, his swollen tip smooching your cervix. If you were ruined, Sunghoon looked even worse.

He looked like it was physically paining him to be balls deep in your snug cunt and not start moving immediately. “H—Ha, look at ‘er…” his breath stuttered, and he slowly pulled all the way out before snapping his forward sharply. You gasp, hands flying up to grip his biceps, nails biting into his muscles.

He winced, but didn’t complain. Loving the bite of your nails. It was like your little claim on him, a reminder that he was yours, mind, body, and soul. His forehead falls forward against your, sweaty, skin flushed. “Look what you do to me,” he says, a strained laugh escaping his lips as he rolls his hips forward, your walls hugging him tightly.

I could die like this, he thinks. But of course, no one would share the same fucked out sentiments as him. With each moan that leaves your lips and each time you recite his name like a fucking prayer, his thrusts would become meaner. Each drag of his cock against your fluttering walls left you blissed-out.

“H..Hoonie, fuck—” you squeal when his fat tip nudged your cervix, your thighs tightening around his hips, gooey walls clenching as if to suffocate him. His hips stuttered in response, a groan rumbling in his chest.

“Shiiit, d-don’t—ha—don’t do that, angel,” he hissed out from between his teeth, “won’t last long if ya’ keep strangling me like ’tis.“

It wasn’t your fault, you swore, eyes rolling back. He was too deep, his cock hitting every nook and cranny that you never knew existed. You could feel each vein, each ridge as he fucks into you, pressing your body deeper into the mattress. His knees shifted under your ass, lifting your hips to change the angle just slightly. And that was just it.

You writhe beneath him, moans spilling from your spit-slicked and kiss-bruised lips.

“W-Wait—you...you’re too deep,“ you cry out, thick lashes clumping together from tears. Sunghoon kisses his teeth, his hips never once faltering. “Mm—g’nna cum,” you whine, and his hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer, closer, closer until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

He feels your release first in the way you clenched tightly around him, walls fluttering, then comes the warmth. His sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip, the heat in his lower abdomen spreading throughout his body. It climbs higher and higher until he can feel it in his teeth, too. And before he could warn you, he was cumming. Eyes clenched shut.

He couldn’t feel anything besides your stifling warmth, the flutter of your velvety insides, and the way you chant his name. It dripped down his spine like thick honey.

“M’fuck, fuck, fuck—” he whimpers, fingers digging into your hips. He grinds forward as if to fuck it all back into you. After all, how can he let anything go to waste? When the high was slightly washed away, he looked down at you, your body trembling, eyes half-lidded as you stare up at him.

And oh, he loves. He loves when you cry, but he loves the way you trust him with your vulnerability even more.

A sharp smile tugged at his lips, canines flashing. “Think you can give me one more, angel?”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˖ ݁ ˓ 𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦.‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✸‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄. 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄, 𝗌𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗅. 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾. 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄. 𝗌𝗈, 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗎𝗇𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗍. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗅. 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌. 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝗈𝗇. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍. 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗍.

4971 𓏲࣪ 🥛🩰 ──── ୨୧ 𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽. 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 x 𝒇.𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝓦𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 :‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ explicit sexual content ; minors do not interact ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎愛 ❜ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✶‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ oral (f.rec) :: fingering :: slight dirty talk :: use of pet names (silly girl, pretty, sweetheart, love) :: sunghoon’s musings :: pussy so good made him forget about the food :: not proof read.

MONDAY, 1 JUNE 2026

[you] :: hey, are you free tonight?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sent 05:27 PM‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[you] :: i suppose not. take care, hoonie! (๑>◡<๑)‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sent 08:20 PM

TUESDAY, 2 JUNE 2026 (01:00 PM)

[you] :: you didn’t reply to my texts.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[you] :: did you have lunch?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[you] :: can i call you after your work?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ sent 01:15 PM

TUESDAY, 2 JUNE (07:00 PM)

[you] :: can you at least respond?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[you] :: jake told me you were stressing about the new project.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[you] :: sunghoon, will you come over?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[you] :: call me when you’re free please.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sent 07:47 PM

WEDNESDAY, 3 JUNE (05:47 PM)

[eight missed calls from my girl]‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[10+ unread messages from my girl]‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[seven voicemail from my girl]

THURSDAY, 4 JUNE (06:30 PM)

[layla’s caretaker] :: bet you’re worrying your little head off.‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[layla’s caretaker] :: don’t get any weird ideas, yeah? your boyfriend is busy.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[layla’s caretaker sent an attachment]‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[layla’s caretaker] :: see? he looks like death.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[layla’s caretaker] :: been moaning about missing you to the HR.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[layla’s caretaker] :: don’t overthink. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sent 06:31 PM‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[you] :: i wasn’t overthinking.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sent 06:35 PM

FRIDAY, 5 JUNE (12:43 AM)

[hoonie] :: hey, baby. you didn’t call yesterday.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ [hoonie] :: you must be sleeping.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sent 12:44 AM‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[hoonie] :: i am sorry for ignoring your calls and messages.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sent 12:50 AM‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[hoonie] :: the new department head is a nightmare.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[hoonie] :: i missed you.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[hoonie] :: i’ll spend the weekend with you. gonna come over on friday after work.‎ ‎ ‎[hoonie] :: take care, sweetheart.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sent 01:05 AM‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[hoonie] :: i’ll see you after work.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sent 02:15 AM

First rays of light began to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful colors. The dark veil of night was lifted, giving way to the soft rosy glow that slowly spreads across the horizon.

You lay awake in your bed, surrounded by the white duvet and fluffy pillows. Static filled your head as you stare at the window, a small crack between the curtains showing the early morning sky. Deep blues and purples of the sky were gone. Cotton candy clouds slowly drifted across the sky, their edges painted a fiery golden as the sun rose higher. It was perhaps around 6:15AM when the first stream of sunlight filtered inside your room, falling over your bed in slanted slivers, bathing your room in a glow of gold.

For a moment, you stare at the light, blinking slowly. It was one of those mornings where you wake up with your mind eerily quiet. No panic of work, no anxiety of getting chores done or being yelled at by your short-tempered supervisor with a pot belly and a gummy smile. And most of all, there is no weight pressing down on your chest about whether Sunghoon responded to your texts or not. You force your brain to stop thinking he was avoiding you deliberately.

He would never do that. You knew it. Or maybe, you were only relieved because Jake texted you about your boyfriend being buried in work to the point he even forgot to grab lunch.

You roll on to your side, reaching to the bedside table to grab your phone. When the screen lit up, it was to Sunghoon’s texts. Not only one or two, but countless. Some were coherent, some were just random musings of his week, and most were about how much he was looking forward to seeing you on Friday.

Friday.

Today is Friday.

Shit.

You immediately sat up, perhaps a bit too fast. The suddenness of the movement made your head spin for a second. I have to prepare a lot of things, you thought, mentally listing off things you can do to make Sunghoon unwind after a week in hell.

You didn’t bother to reply to his messages. You knew Sunghoon wouldn’t see them anyways. Besides, he promised he’d come over tonight, and you wanted to make him feel good. What better way than to cook his favorite dishes and arrange a little candlelight dinner? Sunghoon loved those more than going out to the restaurants. Says it gives him privacy to just be with you alone.

Well, he’d surely love it.

Sunghoon felt as if someone was cracking his skull open. Every little thing set him off. The intern beside him—Jung Taehwa—was too loud. Too mouthy. Too fucking obnoxious with how he always buzzed around Sunghoon’s office like an insistent fucking fly. The lights were too bright, making his already pale complexion look even more ghostly. If that wasn’t enough, he had dark circles big enough to rival a panda. It almost felt as if someone punched him, which wouldn’t be so bad if it meant he could just stay knocked out for a few hours.

Currently, it is past eight. He should’ve clocked off exactly at seven.

An hour of overwork, all because his stupid manager forgot his glasses and couldn’t read the damned file. Jake and Taehwa volunteered to read it instead, but of course the old idiot wanted to use his useless eyes to scan each and every column.

Sunghoon sat in his chair, leaning back with a scowl. His manager, Lim Sujae, stood in front of him, glasses—the one he suddenly and magically produced from his bag—resting low on his nose as his eyes flickered between Sunghoon’s displeased face and the project report. Jake and Taehwa were on either side of Sujae, peering over his broad shoulders.

However, Sunghoon doubted that man was reading shit. The way he smiled, shook his head, and then closed the file with a definitive snap was almost deafening, and quite truthfully, his thirteenth reason. Sunghoon would have committed a felony if he wasn’t so restless, his long fingers tapping an absent-minded rhythm on his thigh.

“Are you done?” Sunghoon asks, checking his wristwatch for the nth time. 8:30.

He promised he would see you after work. And he was already running late. Fantastic.

One week of not seeing you, touching you, or hearing your voice—hell, he hadn’t even texted you properly. And Sunghoon was positively going insane.

“You’re in a hurry,” Sujae notes, placing the file on the table. He uses his knuckles to push up his glasses, raising a brow. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

Sunghoon opens his mouth, but Taehwa beats him to it. “Oh, he is going to his girlfriend’s place!”

Fuck. Sunghoon’s head snapped towards Jake. If there is one person who can’t stomach information, it is Jake. He is always the reason why Sunghoon can’t have good things in life, especially like these.

Jake’s hands shoot up, head tilting to the side innocently as if he wasn’t the one vomiting about his business to everyone during breaks.

He sighs, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “Can you—”

“You can leave.” Sujae is already turning around with the file, the click-clack of his office shoes echoing in the office, fading slowly until he couldn’t hear it anymore.

He slumps into his seat, scrubbing his hand over his face. He is exhausted. Not the kind that could disappear after resting. But the bone-deep fatigue that lingers even after days of rest and sleep. Though he knows seeing you, holding you, kissing you would make it a hell lot bearable. It always does.

Now, he would have been inside the elevator the second Sujae walked out of his cabin, but Jake and Taehwa were still here, watching him with wide, hawk-like gaze. Sunghoon feels a prickle of irritation, expression pinching slightly. However desperate he may be to see you, he can’t risk his coolness. He needed to act unbothered. Unfazed. Nonchalant. Put up with the nonsense of masculinity, yeah, because deep down, he was a pathetic man who couldn’t go a day without you. How he survived a week without resigning and putting someone through the wall for so much as speaking too loudly was beyond him.

He picked up his bag, shoulders squared. “I’ll see you on Monday,” he said, gait confident and posture straight as a pole. “Or not. I may ask for a vacation.” And then he is out. The second the door clicked behind him, all the confidence leaked out of his body, replaced by the deep-seated burn of just getting to you.

His footsteps were quiet, or so he thought, as he hurried to the elevator. Pressing the button insistently like a mad-man. The click-clack of his shoes echoing in the empty floor, a sign of his restlessness.

“Two grands says he is going to get a speeding ticket,” Jake huffs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He could hear the rushed footsteps of his best friend walking down the hallway.

“I am not going to bet on the obvious,” Taehwa responds. “I already lost so much.”

And speeding ticket he gets. Sunghoon doesn’t even remember going over the speed limit. He thought he was driving normally, however, the others don’t think so. He could have been home in thirty minutes—by nine thirty, but apparently, going twenty kilometres over the speed limit on an empty road was worth getting pulled over.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He was distracted. Aching. His mind set on getting home to you as soon as possible. The roads were almost deserted, golden streetlight spilled over the black asphalt, wet from the late June drizzle, the water reflecting the neon lights of the city. In less than two minutes after his foot pressed on to the accelerator, blue and red lights flashed in his rearview.

Great. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened in annoyance, a vein in his temple throbbing. He pulled over his shoulder, the sirens getting louder as the cop vehicle gets closer.

A pudgy, middle-aged cop tapped on his window, his uniform looking two sizes too small, and the second he rolled down the glass, he is sticking his bald head in. “Clocked at eighty kilometres per hour,” he jabbed his pen at the dash, forehead pinched in a scowl. “Reckless, kids. I tell ya’, Shiu!”

Another cop approached, younger, leaning against the vehicle. “I can see, Mr. Lee.”

“The limit here is sixty,” the officer points out, and Sunghoon saw the other cop nodding behind them towards the speed limit sign. Barely fifty meters behind.

Shit. He hadn’t noticed. “I missed it, sir.”

“Clearly,” the man grumbles, scribbles across his citation pad. “Doesn’t seem significant until you run over an oblivious citizen. Happens more often than you think, kid.”

Sunghoon reached for his lisence, but the officer stopped him. “Won’t need that,” he hands him a slip, which Sunghoon accepted between his fingers. “Administrative fine for speeding. Keep your eyes open when driving next time.”

“Will do, sir.” He thanked the officer and watched the patrol car pull away first.

Not only was he another fifteen minutes late, but he was also several wons poorer. Now, he couldn’t care less about the fine. Though he was irritated and worried—irritated because all he wanted after a long, tiring week was to hold you in his arms until the warmth of you melts through his exhaustion, and worried because you haven’t texted or called to see if he was coming.

Did you think he would cancel it? Your doubt wouldn’t be wrong. Sunghoon has cancelled plans in the past because of his work, and you have been so fucking patient with him it hurts him to event think about it.

I’ll make it up to you, he thought, and resisted the urge to press onto the accelerator. It takes him another fifteen minutes, and by the time he is pulling in the parking lot of the apartment complex, it is past ten. He kills the engine, grabs his bag, and climbs out of the car. He couldn’t even bother to make sure his car is properly locked. He would worry about that in the morning.

Instead of waiting for the elevator like any sane person would, he picked the stairs. You lived on the seventh floor. It wasn’t much anyways. So what if it takes him another five minutes to climb the death stairs and by the time he is standing in front of your door, he is sweaty, panting, and positively on the verge of passing out from lack of oxygen.

Yeah, so maybe he should start hitting the gym regularly now.

He stood still in front of your door for a few minutes, contemplating whether to ring the doorbell or use the spare key he keeps with him. It was late. Maybe you were already asleep. Or maybe you weren’t. He reached into the side pocket of his bag where he usually keeps his small things, tangled wired earphones, packets of gums and candies, and then the tips of his fingers grazed the cool, hard metal of the key.

The second he unlocked the door, the smell of something sweet and warm assaulted his senses. Cinnamon. You probably baked something.

The door clicked shut behind him as he slipped off his shoes. The entire apartment was drenched in that comforting blend of spice and vanilla, warm enough to soften the tension in his shoulders. The overhead lights had been switched off, leaving the room to bathe in the glow of scattered candles.

As he walked deeper inside the apartment, he saw you. Your back was turned to him, standing beside the dining table as you adjusted one of the scented candles. The tiny flame quivered at your touch before settling again, spilling liquid gold across your skin. It caught along the curve of your shoulders, softened the line of your neck, and turned the loose strands escaping your hair into delicate threads of amber.

The rest of the world dissolved into a blur and only you remained.

Sunghoon’s gaze didn’t waver from your frame, your silhouette wrapped in the golden glow of little flames, and something in his chest tightened. You looked beautiful. Heavenly. Ethereal. You looked like a dream, less like a person and more like a memory he has somehow walked into. So untouched by the ugliness of the outside world. In all the time he has been with you, he simply couldn’t wrap his head around how you can make a room feel like home just by existing there.

He takes a step forward, and he would have been content to admire you in silence for a while, but the floorboards beneath his feet betrayed his presence with a quiet creak.

Sunghoon sees the way your shoulders tense for a briefest moment before melting back into ease, as though you had recognized him from that single sound alone.

For a whole second: stillness.

Then you turned.

The cotton of your dress flutters with the movement, candlelight catching in its light folds. Loose strands of hair frame your face, warm light kissing your skin in warm strokes of gold.

And he would have lied if he said his lungs didn’t collapse from the sight alone. If anyone asked him, Sunghoon would say you are the most enchanting person he has ever met. But then again, no one was asking him, and his love for you is probably never going to be known to others. However, perhaps, he thinks, the worms who will eat his decaying body will be able to taste it.

One week.

Seven days of no calls, hurried texts, and nights spent wishing he wasn’t stuck in his damned office and could come home. Seven days of not hearing you muffle your laugh into his chest, of not feeling the softness of your hand in his, and not holding you until the world turns quiet.

For seven days, he has forgotten what peace felt like. And standing here, watching your lips tilting up and color filling your cheeks, realization of how utterly useless and empty the world feels when you are not within his reach slammed onto him. And somehow, even after years, you still manage to steal the air from his lungs by just looking at him.

Maybe it was the high of seeing you after so long. Maybe it was the exhaustion that made him ache for your warmth. But he knew one thing—you were the most enchanting thing to ever exist in his world.

And perhaps, Jake wasn’t exaggerating when he said Sunghoon wouldn’t survive in a universe where you didn’t exist.

“You’re late,” are the first words that leave your sweet lips, and they pull a sigh from him.

“I know.” Is all he could manage, hands uselessly hanging by his side.

Your smile widened, face looking so radiant that it would make any man weep. “I was afraid you’d be too exhausted to come over,” your hands gesture around the place, and Sunghoon swallows a lump in his throat.

“How could I miss the chance of seeing you?” The question was rhetoric. You knew he would crawl on his hands and knees to see your face if he were to take his last breath. Exhaustion simply couldn’t keep him away from you. And you did all of this for him.

Fuck, Sunghoon wonders how he’d ever express his feelings when words often feel so inadequate.

“Yeah, I would be upset if my preparations were in vain.”

That’s when Sunghoon truly noticed the extent of work you have put into preparing this little night. “Cooked your favorite dishes,” you continue, fingers lacing together in that familiar nervous gesture, your head slightly bowed, as if you were shy. “I also…also baked cinnamon rolls. Or at least I tried. I don’t know how they will taste.”

He stopped listening after that. Not because it wasn’t important, it was, though he can’t hear shit over the thoughts rushing in his head.

She did this for him. She spent her entire day planning this. She waited for him.

But more than that—she loved him. You loved him enough to not get mad when he didn’t call you for seven days straight. While it might consider bare minimum for others, for Sunghoon, it was everything he wanted and more.

“...and you might get mad at me for spending too much on wine—”

Sunghoon has had enough. You were still babbling about how you were worried he would bail or wouldn’t like the arrangement, while all he could think about was how absolutely ravishing you looked.

He could have waited for you to finish telling him everything. Should have waited like a gentleman, though how could he, when his soul threatened to shatter if he didn’t touch you? One second, Sunghoon is standing a few feet away, and the next, he is right in front of you. The thud! of his bag falling shuts you up and if you were still thinking about speaking after his large hands cupped your face, he didn’t give you a chance, swallowing whatever you might have to say with his own mouth.

The kiss was sudden, though not unexpected. It wasn’t gentle. Sunghoon only does gentle when he wants you to feel the depth of his devotion. Usually, he prefers making you see the want and desire that oozes out of his every pore when it comes to you.

A startled squeak leaves your lips, but you’re immediately melting into the kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, and spit. His fingers squish your cheeks until your lips are puckered, tongue bullying its way into the hot, wet cavern and tasting alll that was you. Your hands instinctively reach out for him, curling in the sleeves of his suit jacket, then sliding up, up, up to grab a fistful of his hair.

Sunghoon moans the second you pull at his strands, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip. “Fuck,” he huffs, pulling back an inch to stare down at you—or more specifically, your dress. The cotton was so light, so delicate, one tug and it’d be in pieces. “You…you look so beautiful.”

His voice is hoarse, hand leaving your face in favour of tugging at the thin strap. His head dips down, plump lips pressing against your shoulder. “Have no idea how I survived without you,” he sighs again, other hand grabbing the back of your head to tilt your face back. “Gonna have to make it up.”

You’re scrambling for an excuse. Skin warm under his lips, no doubt tinged that delicate pink he loves so much. “The—the food will g—”

“Don’t care,” his canines sink into your soft flesh. “That can wait for a while.”

Dinner can wait was Sunghoon’s humble way of saying: dinner would be eaten for breakfast.

Because for the past hour, he has refused to budge from his position, which is, between your legs. Your back is pushed against the kitchen counter, the marble has gotten warm from the heat of your skin, cinnamon rolls long forgotten in the oven.

The lewd sounds of his lips moving over your swollen, neglected pussy filled the kitchen. Your knuckles are white from gripping the counter so you wouldn’t collapse.

“S—Sunghoon—” you hiccup, thighs trembling. He has shown some mercy by not ripping your dress into shreds, but your panties have been torn into pieces and stuffed into the back pocket of his slacks. The straps of your dress are pulled down to reveal your tits, nipples swollen, flesh littered with his marks.

“Yeahhh?” He dragged out, looking up from between your legs. He hasn’t even gotten his mouth on you properly. All he had done was tease you, to give you hope that he was going to finally touch you where you needed him the most only to deny you that pleasure.

“We…We should have dinner first,” you whimper when his hot breath fanned over your slick folds, thighs all wet and glistening with your essence.

“No, silly girl,” Sunghoon grins, his tongue finally darting out to lick a wet, broad stripe from your fluttering hole to your throbbing clit.

You let out a pathetic moan, so loud and needy. The sound rolled off of his spine to settle heavily in his cock. “But I—I…worked so h-hard fo—”

“You worked hard, baby, alright,” he agreed, large hands gripping your plush thighs to part them further. “That’s why I need to reward my girl for being good for me, yeah? Besides,” his lips wrap around your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub, “I’ve neglected you and her—” he pulls back just enough to be able to spit on your cunt, “—so it’s time for me to make up for my absence.”

And then he is licking it all back, hot tongue bullying your folds apart and swirlin’ around your aching hole. Your knees nearly gave you, but Sunghoon is quick to pin your hips back with his hands before guiding one leg to rest over his shoulder.

“But if you want to have dinner first then…”

You are sure humans are not supposed to make the sound you made when he began pulling away. Your hands shoot out, letting go of the counter to grab his head, and you’re pushing him down. “N—No…don’t—”

Sunghoon’s eyes rolled back when your shaky fingers tugged at his hair, so damn sweet and demanding in the way you practically smushed his face into your weeping cunt. But this is the heaven he’d die for, so of course, he has no problem staying on his knees with his face buried between your thighs. His tongue slurps up every drop of your syrupy essence, lapping and swirling around as if it’s the sweetest, most filling thing he has had in days.

And truthfully, he has been starving for it.

“Mhm, y’have no idea how much I missed you,” he rasped, his hand sliding up to grope your ass. “Couldn’t even sleep without you by my side.”

Your empty pussy clenches around nothing, back arching when the tip of his tongue enters your hole. “I…missed you too,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his soft locks, tugging, your hips grinding against his mouth involuntarily.

“Knew you were a needy girl,” he smiles into your folds, slick and spit dripping down his chin. His free hand reached down to squeeze his erection, the mere contact sending a jolt of pure electricity up his spine.

You are pouting at that, glossy, pleasure-heavy gaze meeting his, and God, Sunghoon wants, wants, and wants anything you’ll give him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groans, nose bumping against your mound as he runs his tongue up and down your slit.

“Do you…do you want to ha—” Sunghoon knew what the question was even without you finishing it, and that is precisely why he pulled his hand back before bringing it down on your ass in a sharp, stinging smack!

“I am having my dinner, pretty,” he says, giving your stinging backside a firm squeeze, one that makes tears of pleasure spring up in your eyes. Infuriating, you were, and he wasn’t fucking you good enough if you were still able to form thoughts. One second his hand was on his throbbing erection, the next those long, devastatingly elegant fingers were sinking knuckle deep into your tight heat.

The tightness of your walls made him moan, his tongue lashing out on your clit with wild abandon, tasting every inch of this heavenly pussy that he had to neglect due to stupid work. If he was to get paid to spend his days buried between your thighs, he knows he’d come out a damn billionaire. That’s right. That’s why this isn’t a job.

Sunghoon is shameless in taking what he wants. And right now, he wants to see your back arched and cheeks wet with tears. So, he curls his fingers, prodding deeper into the heavenly tightness to find that spongey spot. The second he finds it, he is awarded with a pathetic sob, your hips bucking, fingers pulling at his hair so hard it stings. But the throbbing is as pleasurable as it could get, coupled with the way you are squeezing around his thick digits so enthusiastically, Sunghoon thinks he can just cum in his pants like a fucking teenager.

“Sh—it, Sunghoon,” you moan, uttering his name like a prayer, your head tipped back and back arched so beautifully. “Th…That’s right there. Please, do it…do that again.”

And he is obliging. He absolutely loves when you tell him exactly what you want and how you want it. He is merely a servant, ready to follow your whims. His sharp nose grinds against your clit, mouth glistening, slick dripping down his hand and wrist, and soaking the cuffs of his dress shirt. He angles his fingers upwards to slam into that spot, scissoring them, rubbing your insides as if he was trying to put out an itch, and you are gone.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest and Sunghoon could feel the erratic pulse. Fiery bolts of pleasure rolled through you, and your body tenses, then the heat is pouring out of your pussy like honey. You shudder above him, jaw slack, cheeks damp with the few tears he has managed to pull out of you.

“Nngh, Sunghoon, please—” Your eyes screwed shut as Sunghoon’s digits continued to scissor in and out, massaging every nook and cranny with dizzying familiarity. “Please, please, please.”

“Such a whore, the way you’re begging for it,” he kisses his teeth, letting you ride out your orgasm. Just when you slumped against the counter, your hand pushing at his head, a silent request for him to relent.

He didn’t.

Of-fucking-course, he didn’t.

He was an asshole. A huge one at that. A greedy asshole.

Instead, he looks up at him with a smug smile, and you’d have been a fool to think he is going to let up. Then his head hips down between your trembling thighs, thumbs prodding at your folds, opening you up more as his tongue and thrusts inside your fluttering hole.

“Oh, fuck, wait,” you cry out, body jerking. Pulling his tongue out, he is licking up at your slit before wrapping those plump lips around your clit and sucking, the tip of his tongue drawing tight circles over the little bud.

Fire spreads down your body, making your toes curl and knees buckle. Your hands useless try to push at his head, though he is stronger, slurping and nipping relentlessly until you feel something in your tummy just snaps and unravels.

It happened too suddenly for you to actually warn him. One second you’re trembling and the next, a full spritz hit his face, dripping down his chin and throat, and definitely ruining his shirt. Though who cares, certainly not him, because he is swallowing down every single drop like a man who hasn’t had water or food for days.

When he finally relents, you’re barely able to stand on your own. He doesn’t pull his face back fully, lets his hot breath fan over your quivering cunt. That’s when you are pressing your hand over his forehead and pushing him away forcefully.

“C—Can’t,” your tongue feels heavy, head foggy and your body absolutely ruined.

Sunghoon grins up at your flushed face. You look so pretty like this. He would keep you in this state forever if he could. Too bad he has other responsibilities even if he wouldn’t mind dropping them off for you.

“I thought you liked it,” he teases, carefully lowering your leg from his shoulder so he could stand.

Wrong move. The second he lets you go for a second, you almost fall on your ass. Sunghoon is quick to catch you. Strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you against his chest. The hem of your dress falls back into its place, covering your nakedness from his eyes. A shame, truly, because he’d have to work extra to get it off again.

He looks down when he feels your face smushing into his chest, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Well, that was hot,” he murmurs, wet lips brushing over the crown of your head. “Think you can do that for me again?”

“Fuck, no,” you groan, voice muffled by his shirt. “I think…I think you broke me or something.”

“Did I?” He kisses your head, hand rubbing up and down your back. His gaze lifts from you to land on the dining table.

So much work you put into it. His chest feels all warm and tight. God damn you. If he dies tonight, it’d surely be because of you. He stands there with you in his arms, the throb in his cock is dull now, but persistent, but that’s something he would take care of later. After a few seconds of silence, he speaks:

“You know we’re not having dinner tonight, right?”

You blink, looking up at him with a dazed expression. “What, why?”

“Because,” he says, “I missed you. And I am going to make up for the lost time.”

“And what about dinner?”

“Will reheat for breakfast.”

“I worked hard.”

“I know and I’ll enjoy it in the morning.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Sunghoon smiles, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead with an exaggerated mwah! “Don’t I know?”

“I hate you,” you say, nose scrunching up slightly as his sticky mouth moves over your face to pepper kisses.

“Guess I’ll have to fuck the hate out of you, baby.”

You let out a quiet sigh and the conviction in his voice tells you that the dinner was actually going to wait until morning.

hey. i’ll post tomorrow. 😭

explicit content ⨾ mdni

𝒇.reader ⁕ fingering ⁕ unprotected p in v ⁕ rough sex ⁕ slight dub-con ⁕ mean sunghoon ⁕ dacryphilia ⁕ use of pet names (baby, angel, pretty girl etc.)

The argument ended more than two hours ago.

Still, Sunghoon hasn’t heard a word leave your pretty little mouth. Not to mention that the argument was absolutely stupid. His nerves were already frayed by the constant nagging of his manager, a headache throbbing behind his eyelids from sitting in front of the computer screen for too long, mood ruined by that stale coffee the barista served him this morning and called it the best creation of his time. And you. Sweet, perfect, concerned you just happened to be there at the wrong time.

He was being an asshole, that much he admits. He shouldn’t have yelled at you or called you dumb, but you were the softest target with your clinginess and sweet voice. Now, you are giving him the ultimate cold shoulder. He has tried apologizing, tried talking to you, to make it up to you, yet you remain steadfast in your determination to ignore him. It was frustrating, really, though you look absolutely lovely sulking on the couch, big eyes swimming with tears you could barely keep at bay.

Sunghoon’s heart cracks a little at the sight but a small part of him is thrilled that he can get to you so well. You have always been a sensitive little thing, just one mean word or raising his voice a few octaves would leave you a sniffling, sobbing mess.

Just like how you’re sobbing right now. Sunghoon had initially thought that he’d coax you to talk to him again by murmuring apologies in your ear, but you had other plans. The second Sunghoon sits down beside you, you were getting up, sniffling as if he had wronged you (he has). That made his remaining patience snap like a thread.

Before you could even utter a word of protest, you were being bent over the arm of the couch, his large hand pushing your face into the cushions, thick fingers ripping your panties and tossing them off somewhere. He could have been more vocal and gentlemanly, though you don’t look like you were in the mood for it. Besides, he already knows what will get you speaking really fast.

“We’ll do it your way,” Sunghoon mutters, leaning over you, his chest brushing against your back. His lips pressed on the side of your neck in a feather-light kiss that didn’t match the roughness of his hands.

His hand palms your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly before sneaking down to brush over your folds. He isn’t gentle by any means, no, his thumb rubs up and down your slit, gathering the syrupy slick and circling your clit once, twice, thrice, and again until you are squirming from the stimulation.

“Nu-uh, baby. Don’t squirm now,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your jaw. You were about to relax, to melt into his familiar touch, but of course Sunghoon wasn’t nice. Before you could relax, three thick fingers are sinking down to knuckles, cold metal of his rings bumping against your heated skin.

You jerk, a sharp cry leaving your lips at the suddenness of the intrusion. Sunghoon watches as tears drip down your sweet face, staining your ruddy cheeks, and making your bottom lip tremble oh-so-sweetly. Fuck, you were so pretty, so, so dear to him it was ridiculous. He gives you enough time to adjust by squirming and clamping around his digits before pulling them out, feeling your walls flutter, and then stretching deliciously when he thrusts them back in.

Sobs are already falling past your lips, back arched as slick drips down his digits and coats his hand in thick sheen. “Still not speaking?” He murmurs, warm lips brushing over your dampened cheek, tongue flicking out to lick a tear. “I did say sorry, didn’t I?”

You’re immediately shaking your head, strands of hair sticking to your damp skin. “No, y-you didn’t, Hoonie.”

Oh, how Sunghoon melts at the way you whimper out that little nickname. He grins against your cheek, crooking his fingers juuust slightly to hit that spongey spot. Your body jerks, toes curling from pleasure as you let out a choked moan.

“I didn’t?” He muses, pulling his fingers out with a wet squelch. “That’s really bad of me, isn’t it?”

He was mocking you, you could tell by the slight taunting lilt of his voice. You were ready to beg him to put his fingers back, already feeling empty and distressed from the loss of orgasm. But then you feel him moving back, the sound of metal clinking, and the sound of a zipper reaches your ears. You tense—from anticipation or from nervousness, you couldn’t tell. Though your cunt clenched ‘round nothing, dripping like it has been waiting for this exact moment. And perhaps, Sunghoon thinks, she has. After all, his pretty girl was just so ready for him whenever he needed her.

He pulls his pants and boxers down to his thighs, just enough to free his aching erection. It springs free with a jerk, tip glistening with pre-cum. Spitting on his palm, Sunghoon fists his shaft, pumping his plumpy girth once, twice, thrice before lining himself up with your weeping cunt.

His one hand pushes down on your back to make you arch while the other guides the bulbous head to part your folds and sink into your heat. He watches, entranced, as your puffy lips parted around his mushroom tip, your walls stretching around his girth as he feeds you inch after thick inch. He has to hold himself back from just rutting into you like an animal, to relish in the damning, velvety heat of your cunt.

“S—Sunghoon—” you gasp, gummy insides swallowing him whole. The way he fills you up is almost sinful, and all you could do is push your hips back, grind your ass against his pelvis

“Mm, fuck, baby,” Sunghoon rasps, his other hand coming to pull both of your arms behind your back, holding your wrists with one hand while the other settles on the dip of your waist to anchor you to him. “Feels like coming home. Literally.”

He gives you a second to adjust—just a second, and then he is pulling his hips back, thick head dragging along your walls almost heavenly before snapping forward.

He sets a punishing pace almost immediately once he was sure you could take it. His hips slap against your plump ass, grip tight on your wrists as he thrusts, thrusts, thrusts, each one forcing his cock a little deeper than the last. “That’s what you get for goin’ silent on me,” Sunghoon groans, his length swabbing into every nook and cranny you thought didn’t even exist.

“Nngh, t—too fast,” you slur out, head pushed into the couch cushions, its case now damp with your drool and tears, and bend over the armrest with your ass and feet up. The position wasn’t new, though the circumstances sure were. And Sunghoon doesn’t look like he is in the mood for playing nice and gentle for you, at least not tonight.

“Clearly not fast enough if ya’ can still speak, pretty girl,” and then he is changing the angle, just slightly so, but it made stars burst behind your eyes all the same. He bends his knees, pulling at your wrists to force your back into a deeper arch and that has his cock ramming into that sweet, hidden spot.

“Oh—” you squeal, thighs clamping shut.

That, that wasn’t something Sunghoon liked, clearly, because one second his hand is pinning your wrists behind your back, and the next you feel a sharp smack landing right on your pussy.

You yelp, more slick gushing around his cock as his roughened tips press down onto your puffy clit. “You’re always throwin’ a tantrum and being messy, hm?” His low voice was enough to pull a whimper from your throat, the stinging of the smack barely subsiding before he is drilling into you.

“I—I wasn’t—” you start, but your words are soon dissolving into sobs when he twists your clit, his larger, broader frame hovering behind you when he leans down.

“H-Ha, you so were, baby,” he drawl out. You were a firm one, Sunghoon knew that much. Even if you were on your limits, you wouldn’t admit it. Such foolishness in a small body was almost expected, really, though it didn’t dim his admiration for you. If anything, your stubbornness to admit your weakness and vulnerability made him want to crush you.

And he expected that whiny denial anyways. He’d have to bully out a few orgasms for you to actually sob out a complaint.

You were just so beautiful when you were being tunneled by his cock, all stupid and whiny with tears and drool all over your face.

Stubborn and a whole lot sensitive, but you were his, every inch. And while he might have yelled at you because of his stupid stress, he knows how to make it up to you all too well.

So, in no time, he is burrowing his cock deeper into your cunt until the round head slams into your cervix. You don’t get the time to even register the sensation at first before he is bashing that spot, the impact and pleasure making your eyes cross and for unashamed moans to spill out.

“Mhm-hm, look at ‘er, angel,” he grunts, “Grippin’ me so sweetly.”

Each snap of his hips sent your body jolting forward, face pressing into the cushions and wetting them with your spit and tears. Usually Sunghoon is much more loving and considerate, however, right now he has lost all of his patience. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and the wet, filthy plap, plap, plap filled the living room along with his ragged breathing.

He felt your walls fluttering, saw the way your knees gave away and you bit the pillowcase to muffle your cries, and he knew you were close. Too close. A little bit more and you’d be dumb enough to forget about the argument altogether.

His hand snakes down, thick fingers prodding at your swollen folds before finding your clit and drawing slow, tight circles over the sensitive bud. Your body twitched, a broken sound spilling past your lips, sounding strangely like a breathy gasp of his name. Sunghoon didn’t stop his relentless assault, if anything, his thrusts became more forceful, more intentional to drive you to the brink of insanity.

“You’re close, pretty girl,” Sunghoon murmurs, not a question, rather a statement. He knew your body better than you knew it yourself, knew which buttons to press to get you all stubborn and defensive and what strings to pull to make you melt in his hands.

You merely managed a dumb nod, sniffling and hiccuping, and it was just so pathetic. You were barely coherent, probably not even listening to half the things he spewed out. His cock gave a traitorous jerk, balls drawing up as his own climax approached.

“Sunghoon,” you choke out, the knot in your tummy unraveling with each thrust. “P—Please, don’t stop.” Pleasure spreads down to your toes like an inferno, consuming you whole until all thoughts and memories of previous argument melted from your head.

The “please” sounded so good from your lips, but then again, you’ve always looked prettier when you begged.

“Please what?” He slows down like the annoying asshole he was, and a shudder ran through you. You didn’t speak—couldn’t, not when he was railing you into another week. He, however, doesn’t care if he had rendered you speechless. He wanted—no, needed—you to continue your mindless babbling. He leaned over you, chest brushing against your back and he was so warm, like a furnace. “I said, please what, angel, hm? Please let you cum? Please fuck you harder? Or please stop? Which one is it?”

The thought of him stopping was painful. You didn’t want that, not when you were so, so close. You shake your head immediately, lifting your head a little to peer at him from over your shoulders, your wet eyes meeting his.

“Please let me cum,” you whimper, and Sunghoon feels the wetness of your tears when you press your cheek against his jaw.

And, just like that, he was absolutely done for. His hips snapped forward with more force than necessary and you bit back a choked cry.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he rasped, lips ghosting over your soft damp cheek in feather-light kisses. “Too good.”

The squelching sound of your wetness ricocheted off of the walls along with the slap of skin against skin. Your eyes rolled back, breath hitching as the pleasure mounted—hot and white. Your grip on the cushions tightened, nails tearing into the cheap pillowcase.

Your thighs shook, entire body seizing with the force of your orgasm as you came around his cock. It was abrupt, intense, and numbing. You feel Sunghoon stilling inside you, big, warm hands settling on your waist. You squeezed him, and the tightness had him choking back a moan. He pulled out, fist closing around the base of his cock in a firm grip. He knew if he continues, he’d cum, and he had something much important to take care of before granting himself that pleasure.

He watched as you came down from your high, body still trembling with the aftershocks of it all, the fire dying down and leaving behind dazzles of pleasure.

“You alright?” He whispered, voice gentler now as he rubbed your back.

You stayed quiet for a moment, catching your breath before speaking. “You were mean to me,” you whisper, voice undeniably sulky despite your piss-poor attempt to mask it.

Sunghoon huffed, a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, though you weren’t sure. He moved away, the warmth of his body disappearing and you almost found your footing back when he is hauling you up and settling down on the couch, sitting you on his lap.

“Oh, I know,” he sighed, hands finding purchase on your bare hips and he felt the familiar spark of arousal igniting low in his guts. He dark eyes catch yours, a small, almost mocking smile pulling at his lips. “But I know how to make it much better, yeah?”

If the lustful glint in his eyes wasn’t enough to convey his implications, the hardness of his arousal pressing against your inner thigh made his intentions much, much clear. And despite how much you want to hold on to your anger, you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like you were the most beautiful person to exist in his world, and especially not when you could feel yourself already beginning to drip.

Sunghoon was indeed right. You are a mess.