hoonharem

[hoonharem]

♯┆ NO ONE COMPARES. ✩ PSH.

PAIRING ➤ park sunghoon × fem!reader.

SYNOPSIS ➤ you've been with your boyfriend for months now. still, you've never really gone past the occasional make-out sessions due to your lack of experience. but when you tell him that you're ready for the next step of your relationship, sunghoon's heart and body is there to guide you through it.

CONTAINS ➤ 4.9k+ words.  downbad!hoon & bf!hoon aka: E404!sunghoon. established relationship. fluff. a little bit of humor. angst if you squint. for context, read E404 & other epilogue drabbles.

CONTENT WARNING ➤ smut. softdom!sunghoon, inexperienced!sub!reader. pet names. fingering. unprotected sex. (zon't zo it.) bigdick!hoon. soft, soft sex but sunghoon kinda goes feral towards the end. praise kink— a lot. they are SO in love, your honor. overstimulation. hints at dacryphilia. aftercare. not proofread.  ➤ main masterlist.  ┆ epilogue masterlist.

  𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.ᐟ  ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 ♡

SINCE THE NIGHT SUNGHOON SLEPT OVER, things in the physical intimacy realm of your relationship only escalated. your boyfriend became bolder.

he started walking around your apartment half-naked. letting his hand wander dangerously high up your thigh during classes. quietly whispering in your ear about how your skirt's making everyone look, and how he's proud that it's all his.

often, and most dangerously, he'd initiate make-out sessions— heated ones. the kind that had you gasping for air. the kind that had your head spinning even an hour after his lips pulled away from yours.

the kind that had you wearing long sleeved sweaters in the middle of summer just to hide the evident red marks painted by his mouth.

but you never really went further than that. and sunghoon—ever the patient and loving boyfriend he is—never pushed you past what you were comfortable with.

"i can take care of myself, angel." your lover would whisper, seemingly satisfied with just leaving traces of his mouth on your skin. "we'll do it when you're comfortable."

and then he'd lay you in your bed, whisper sweet nothings until your breathing evened. until he thought you've fallen asleep.

but you noticed his pattern.

you heard it.

the click of the bathroom door. the swishing of water falling against tiles. the heavenly sound of his grunts when he thought the shower was strong enough to muffle them as he relieved himself just a room away from you.

after a while, the door would creak open and you'd feel the bed dip, mint-scented arms wrapping around you. then, a gentle kiss on your skin with a quiet whisper of 'good night' before he fell into a deep slumber.

but you? you'd be awake.

nights like that would get your body feeling too warm. clothes too tight. you'd shift every now and then, uncomfortable from the thought of him touching himself, not because it disgusted you—it actually turned you on beyond belief— but because your lovely boyfriend was dealing with the pain of his hard-on alone.

you knew he was experienced.

sunghoon was no stranger to physical intimacy, meaningful or otherwise. he mentioned his exes and the occasional one night stands before he met you, naturally increasing his skill in that department regardless of how shy and loser-like he appeared to be whenever you're around.

sunghoon never made a show of it. he never bragged, never pointed it out, nor did he hold his abundance of experience over your head— the fact just existed.

and you weren't a depriving sunghoon because you were a prude. if anything, you've fantasized about him more than he probably has with you.

you've actually done the deed with your past boyfriends a handful of times.

yes, you've had sex more than you've had orgasms. and yes, your friends think that it doesn't matter because it wasn't as pleasurable for you than it was for your partner.

but their dick went inside, so it should count for something, right?

wrong.

because now, you're inexperienced and riddled by irrational thoughts.

what if you sound like a dying sheep when you moan? what if you said something weird in the middle of it?

god, what if you're not pretty when you cum?

and though you know he loved you, the bottom line is that you're scared that he might not find sex with you as enjoyable as he did with his past fucks.

but as his girlfriend, it was your rightful duty to take care of sunghoon, afeared or not. and you decided that the next time the chance comes up, you won't let his needs go unmet anymore.

the opportunity came in the form of your weekly sit-com re-runs. you were both on the couch, sunghoon's arm slung over your shoulder as your head rested his chest, both eyes glued to the tv.

and then.. you felt it.

the palm moving to your arm, rubbing and squeezing the muscle gently before it snaked down to your waist. his fingers slipped underneath your shirt with so much ease you'd think the fabric was never there in the first place.

sunghoon, still staring at the screen, started rubbing slow circles on the skin of your hips. you shifted closer, whining softly at the contact. sunghoon just pressed a kiss on the crown of your head.

his free hand cupped your jaw, tipped your head up until you met his eyes. "can i have a kiss, angel?" he asked in that low, gravelly voice that had you pressing your thighs together.

his lids were hooded, desire pooling in the deep brown irises after catching you in the act. something in the way he looked at you made your tummy flip and your throat tighten.

you gave him a meek nod. "o-of course."

you quickly found yourself in your usual position on sunghoon's lap, caging his hips with your thighs. his lips claimed yours in a second, the faint laughter from the television drowned out by the soft gasps and wet smacks of lips meeting hungrily.

your arms circled around his neck and sunghoon squeezed on your waist, emitting a low growl at the familiar sweetness of your lips as the kiss intensified, tongue and teeth meeting while his hands moved to the curve of your ass, giving them squeezes like its plushness was the only thing grounding him to this moment.

you were muffling whimpers into his mouth, tugging on his hair, not even aware that your hips began rolling, causing sunghoon to pull away, much to your displeasure.

"baby? why'd you stop?" you whined.

"careful, angel." he breathed, lips still slick with saliva, restraint pooling in his eyes as he gripped on your hips to make you halt.

but the friction felt too good, and you tried chasing after it by bouncing instead. "but hoonie." you huffed and he let out a quiet hiss as your clothed heat put pressure on his length with each little hop.

he gripped on you a tad tighter, choosing instead to occupy his mouth on your neck to distract himself from the way his cock throbbed inside his sweatpants.

"fuck." he cussed below his breath. "you're making it hard to control myself." he whispered in between nips and bites, tongue smoothing over the fresh mark just above your pulse point.

"then don't."

sunghoon stopped moving. so did you.

suddenly, the buzz of the tv was too loud. maybe that's the blood rushing to your ears out of embarrassment. or maybe that was the low rumbling from sunghoon's throat.

he slowly peeled himself away from your neck, eyebrows furrowed at the invitation. "do you mean…"

"y-yes." you stammered, finding your throat too dry to speak properly. "i know.." you trailed off, your insides stirring at the memory of the sounds he made— the grunts and faint whispers of your name.

"i know how you've been taking care of yourself. and i want to help." you gulped. "i want you to fuck me."

his adam's apple bobbed, lips pursing into a thin line. for a moment, he almost looked like he would reject you, but you couldn't mistake the hunger in his eyes when you tentatively rolled your hips again.

you were testing him, and you knew he was close giving in when his hips involuntarily bucked up to meet yours.

"shit— are you sure, angel? we don't have t—"

"i want you. need you, hoonie." you confessed, rocking against his clothed cock more feverishly. "please."

sunghoon bit down on the skin of his inner lip as he took a deep breath through his nose. he wanted to be respectful of your boundaries— but the throbbing in his pants was becoming more unbearable after hearing your soft voice say 'please' so nicely.

that's all it took. muscular arms guided your legs around his waist, easily lifting you up by your ass, making you squeak in surprise.

"hoon! where are you taking me?"

"bedroom, angel. do you really think i'd rail you on the couch?" he rolled his eyes in offense at the implication. sunghoon was a sentimental man, and no matter how needy he was to feel you, the couch wasn't what you deserved.

he kicked the door open, the back of his heel slamming it back shut. "i mean... i wouldn't be against doing it there. but not for our first time." he corrected himself, giving your ass a squeeze before laying you down on the bed.

"i'm asking you again— are you sure about this, baby?" his brows were curved down, worry written all over his face as he gingerly brushed the hair off of your face.

you gave him a hum, but he shook his head, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth in dissatisfaction. sunghoon gave your swollen bottom lip a gentle push with his index finger. "words, angel. use your words."

"y-yes, hoon. a hundred percent."

"good girl." he whispered under his breath with a smile, kneeling in front of your folded legs with tipping his chin downward to point to your body. "take off your clothes, angel. let me see you— all of you."

there was authority in his voice. not pushy nor demanding. just gentle dominance, softly guiding you to giving him what he wanted.

it was a pleasant shift. between the two of you, you're the one who usually dealt the cards. you had him wrapped around your finger and you knew it.

but the way sunghoon stood, the way he spoke, the mere energy he radiated even while he kneeled in front of you told you everything you needed to know: tonight, no matter how softly he was calling for your name, no matter how delicately he asked for permission, sunghoon was the one in control— the one in power.

so, you obediently sat up and took the shirt off, discarding it to the floor along with your bra. sunghoon also took his top off, revealing his sculpted torso— fair and even skin interrupted by the shadows of lean muscles.

and when you finally met his eyes, sunghoon looked like he was barely hanging on.

he was looking at you like you were a goddess, gaze hungry but reverent as it raked up and down your body. from the deep flush tinting your cheeks, to the valley between your breasts, down to the sweet dip he's been craving for between your thighs.

under the warm lamps and dimmed lighting, you truly lived up to the name he gave you— an angel. you looked celestial, and he was in disbelief that such sanctity was within his reach.

slowly, sunghoon leaned down to press a kiss on your lips. it wasn't hungry nor possessive. done, not just with softness, but with something more intimate— devotion.

"you look beautiful, my angel. fucking divine." he mumbled, trailing the wet, open mouthed kisses to your cheek, down to the curve of your jaw. "can't believe you're mine." he whispered, tapping on your hips and you, by instinct, raised them just enough to allow his agile hands to pull off the rest of the fabric covering what was his to worship.

you let out a gasp of his name once his mouth latched on the column of your neck. "so sensitive." he chuckled.

his hands stroked your outer thigh and you instinctively tried to close them but he pulled away, clicking his tongue. "no can do, angel. let me see you, hm?"

it barely took him any effort to pry your legs apart.

his hold on your leg tightened when he finally saw the most intimate parts of you— pretty, puffy, and glistening with arousal. it made his cock throb painfully within its suffocating confines.

"s-stop it." you grunted, palms moving downwards but he was quicker to catch your wrists with one hand, wagging a finger at you with the other.

"shhh. i said i wanted to see, angel. be a good girl, okay?"

you hate how quickly your wrist fell back down to your sides. how your body knew quicker than your mind to nod, like it knew that it was in your best interest to follow your boyfriend if you wanted to hear him call you a good girl again.

he ran a finger down your slit. "already this wet? just for me?" he grinned, cheeky and proud at the way your back arched just from a simple touch.

"hoon, don't teas— f-fuck." your words came to a stop as he began rubbing circles on your sensitive bud, expertly pushing with enough pressure to have you gripping on the sheets.

"i'm not teasing, angel. just need to get you prepped if you want to take my cock." he slowly pushed the same finger past your throbbing hole, thumb replacing the one rubbing on your clit.

his finger was longer than yours, reaching far deeper than you could ever do alone. sunghoon hissed, feeling the resistance your pink walls put up. "see? so fucking tight. can't have this pretty little hole ruined so early now can we, love?"

you didn't respond. you couldn't. everything felt overwhelming. he wasn't even doing anything that you hadn't experienced before, yet it somehow felt foreign. like he just knew what your body needed before you could push the words out.

sunghoon added a second finger, spreading out your walls while his mouth busied itself by latching on a nipple, sucking on the stiff peak and teasingly letting his fang graze the tip of it.

you threw your head back against the pillow, fingers threading through his hair. you tugged on it as if it was your lifeline, like an outlet for the overwhelming sense of pleasure as he sloppily lapped at your nipple and squeezed the unoccupied one between his fingers.

your walls kept throbbing around him and once he felt them clench tight after brushing against a particular spot, the pads of his digits kept stubbornly pressing on it, pleased at the sound of your sultry moans turning a pitch higher.

"yeah? you like that?" sunghoon smiled softly, a heavy contrast against the ruthless speed at which his fingers pumped into you. his knuckles drove in deeper and deeper, and your walls helplessly tightened around him as response.

but that wasn't enough for him.

"answer me, angel. words." he spoke, chest full with a twisted sense of gratification now that he's the one pushing you to speak.

"yes. i... i love it." you grunted, giving him dumb repeated nods as the words in your brain jumbled. "fuck— need you. want to feel you, hoon."

you looked too good, all whiny and fucked out already with just his fingers and sunghoon wanted to prolong it so he could savor the sight a little bit more, but he figured if he was going to make you cum for the first time, it'd be on his cock.

so he obliged.

slowly, he pulled out his fingers. remnants of sweet and abundant juices dripped down to his wrists making a smirk grow on his lips at the way they glistened despite the minimal lighting of your bedroom.

you whined at the loss of contact, eyes shot wide open.

and oh, was the sight sinful.

sunghoon, lapping at your juices with his eyes rolled back at the taste as he sucked them off his digits with abandon. "you taste fucking divine, angel." he moaned, tongue licking at whatever remnants was left on his lips. "do you wanna taste?" he invited with a teasing smirk, already leaning down.

the kiss was deeper this time. more torrid. you met his lips with your own, muffling a gasp into his mouth as he prodded his tongue past your lips to give you a taste of yourself like he promised.

"mmh— sunghoon. baby, please." you begged, breathless. you looked adorable bucking your hips against his clothed cock, already desperate to feel him inside you.

what was he to do when you were being so cute and saying please?

he tugged off his sweatpants stained with your juices, kicking them off the bed to reveal his cock.

it stood proud and angry, twitching in anticipation, precum dripping from the reddened tip down to your abdomen.

more importantly, he was huge. the tents you've seen him sport after making out gave you some sort of indication that he was well-endowed, but seeing it bare was another thing.

sunghoon was big — far longer and girthier than your past partners.

you heart pounded against your ribs at the thought of fitting all of that inside you. but if the pulsing between your legs and saliva pooling in your mouth were anything to go by, you knew your body looked forward to the pain.

"keep starin' at me like that and i might come right here, right now." he joked, trying to downplay the shyness he was starting to feel with your glassy eyes locked on his length.

"n-no.. you're just…" you whispered in a daze.

"big? i know, angel." he hummed, proud but not smug. just confident in his tone, like he knew it was the truth. "that's why i needed to prep you, but my pretty little baby's so insistent on getting fucked, isn't she?"

he slotted himself between your legs, letting out a relieved sigh as he pumped his length once, twice. the muscles of his jaw twitched as he began rubbing the head up and down your slit to lubricate it with your juices, mouth parting in awe as he watched how your puffy lips accommodated his length.

"you're so fucking soft. so wet. just so damn beautiful." he took a sharp inhale, gently squeezing on the base of his cock as his head gently poked at your entrance. "let me know if it hurts too much, and i'll stop, okay?"

you gave him a quiet 'yes' and sunghoon chuckled, placing a quick reassuring kiss on your forehead. "good girl."

his hand guided your leg up his shoulder, the other one holding his length steady as he pushed his tip past your entrance, eyelids closing shut at the tight fit.

"oh my god. h-hoon..." you sucked in a breath between gritted teeth.

it wasn't too painful, but there was mild discomfort. your body had never had anything this big inside. still, it felt too good to make him stop, even as he pushed a couple more inches inside.

he hushed you, placing soothing kisses along the length of your calf. "shhh. it's okay, angel. you'll be good, right? you can take me. just—" he let out a shaky sigh. "just a little more."

"my god, hoon— fuck… feel s-so full." you drawled out once he finally bottomed out inside you. he stayed still for a moment, trying to get you used to the stretch.

his length twitch inside your warmth, and it's taking sunghoon's entire strength to not selfishly fuck you dumb then and there.

"yeah? does it feel good, angel?"

"so good. so so good." you nodded, eyes glazed over. you bit down on your lower lip when he started to move, shallowly thrusting into you.

he was gentle, carefully pushing into you while muttering sweet praises against your flushed cheeks.

"fuck, i love you so much, angel."

"taking my cock like a good girl, aren't you?"

"such a pretty little angel for me."

then sunghoon picked up his pace, pelvis pressing against yours rhythmically, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each delicious thrust.

the vulgar sounds of your walls squelching around his cock mixed with your shy pleas for more cutting at each thread he had to his self control.

"mine. all fucking mine." he growled, fingers putting light pressure on your clit. he rubbed the sensitive bud in circles while he slammed his length inside you, pulling back just enough to leave the tip in before slamming right back.

"sunghoon!" you cried out, tears of pleasure brimming in your eyes.

"fuck. you're milking me dry, princess." he gripped on your thigh harder, thrusts becoming even more punishing.

"oh god.. i— i'm gonna—"

"let go, princess. it's okay." he nodded, the finger on your clit working in smaller, tighter circles.

your vision blurred, toes curling as his relentless thrusts pushed you to your climax. "f-fuck! sunghoon!" you screamed, eyes screwed shut while entire body tensed, cumming so hard you swore you started seeing galaxies.

even then, sunghoon didn't stop.

"baby, i— wait. please. i c-can't." you choked out, clawing at his forearms desperately as overstimulation set fire to every nerve in your body.

sunghoon couldn't hear you. he was drunk off of your pussy, how they felt so warm contracting around his hard cock, how even more slick they felt after you came.

his pupils were dilated in pleasure as he zoned in on the way your breasts bounced with each sharp slam he gave your puffy cunt, reaching to cup one in his hand.

"you can, angel. you will." he whispered, voice laced with sweetness and something more commanding.

he repositioned your still trembling legs to his shoulders, leaning forward with them until youre anchored to the bed in a mating press. "need you to scream for me again, baby. need to cum inside you."

you could say whatever you want, but sunghoon knew you'd take it. heard it in the way your breath hitched. felt it in the way you tightened around him.

"you want that, angel? want my cum to ruin your pretty little hole?" his words came out slurred, warm breath fanning across your swollen lips.

everything felt so good that all you could do was babble 'yes' repeatedly, chasing after his lips with a fucked out whine when he teasingly pulled away, cock buried deep inside yet unmoving.

"what do good girls say when they want something, baby?"

"please!" you cried. "please please please hoon. please, fill me up." you were delirious and overwhelmed, nails scraping dark red marks across the expanse of sunghoon's back and shoulders.

pleased, he finally moved again, splitting you open as he drove his cock impossibly deeper into you with the new position. "such a good little angel begging for me." he rasped, the grip on your thighs almost bruising.

"tell me," he breathed. "tell me owns this pretty pussy, angel."

"yours! 's all yours, hoonie."

"that's fucking right." he chuckled, confidence dripping from his voice.

"mine to make a mess of." thrust. "mine to fuck." thrust. "all." thrust. "fucking." thrust. "mine." he growled the last word, sealing it with the kiss you've been desperately chasing for.

his thrusts turned frantic—borderline animalistic—like he was running on pure instinct, drunk and ravenouse for more.

there was nothing else but the sound of skin slapping and the muffled breathless gasps to fill the room as sunghoon focused on fucking himself into you whilst whispering dirty promises into the shell of your ears.

you keened at the filth, feeling the knot deep in your abdomen tighten again. you clawed at his biceps, crying out. "i'm close, hoon—" you hurriedly whispered.

somehow, finding a little bit of lucidity in the midst of what was happening, sunghoon's hands moved to grab yours, fingers threading through yours and keeping them pinned beside your head.

"shit. i love you, baby. love you s-so much." he confessed in a strangled moan, pressing kisses to your temple as if to reassure you he still held affection for you, no matter how heartless he was in punishing your gummy walls.

"hold it, angel. w-wanna cum with you." the gulp he took was audible, slamming into you. "say it again, princess. please." he whimpered this time— actually whimpered into your skin. "say you wanna get filled up."

"wan' you fill me up.. hah– need it s-so bad. 's all yours to ruin, hoon— fuck!" a loud, trembling moan cut off your sentence when the tip of his cock brushed against the squishy spot again.

pleasure ran through you for the second time, thighs tense and back arched as high as sunghoon's body on top of yours would allow.

your mere expression— eyes rolled back, tongue lolled out with drool dripping from the corner of your mouth—motivated sunghoon to devour you again, muffling your sinful noises with his mouth all while he was chased after his own orgasm.

with stuttering hips, he pushed once, twice, before releasing thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you, drowning out a husky grunt of your name against your lips.

"fuck..." he panted through the aftershocks of your intense climax. "good girl. did so well for me, didn't you?" he muttered, gently stroking your thigh while placing a final kiss on your lips.

"wait— why are you crying, angel?" he whispered, wiping the tears streaking down to your temple. "god, you look fucking delectable even when you cry." he groaned, kissing the sweat-ridden skin with such gentleness you'd almost forget this was the man who gave you the most mind-blowing orgasms you've ever experienced.

"please don't tell me you're gonna develop a kink." you weakly chuckled, still trying to catch your breath.

"i'd get a kink from whatever you do, but when you cry like this.." he trailed off, brushing the drops pooling on the sides of your eyes. "it's like a reward for fucking you too good."

your shoulders shook slightly from laughter, pushing his hand away. "that, you did, park. that, you did." you hum in content, pulling him closer so you could pepper kisses all over his jaw and he happily leaned into it with a quiet, giddy giggle.

just like that, your soft boyfriend was back.

"give me a moment, baby. where did we keep the tissues again?"

"nooooo." you whined out, a pout forming on your lips as you grabbed on his shoulders. "wan' you here."

"angel. i need to clean us up." he chuckles, playfully biting down on your puffy lip. "we can cuddle after."

"but hoonie! i wanna feel warm and full until morning." you demanded, batting your lashes at him.

"you can't say things like that and expect me not to fuck you again, angel." he replied with a more serious expression. his smile didn't look playful, his head tilted to the side as if daring you to push him to ruin you again.

you pursed your lips and let out a huff, reluctantly pushing him off with closed eyes.

sunghoon came back already half-dressed, armed with a wet washcloth.

he ran it between your legs, careful not to stare for too long at the flushed skin of your abused cunt as he wiped between them, turning the cloth over so he could meticulously wipe over the spit and sweat he left on you, taking a few seconds of his time to admire the red and purple bruises left across your torso.

once he was done, he threw it across the room, howling with a boyish grin as it easily slipped in the hamper. "jay and jake better watch out."

"i don't think they're worried, dork." you chuckled under your breath, half impressed by his skills, but more amused at the duality he had.

"you love this dork." sunghoon stuck his tongue out at you, picking up his own discarded shirt. he sat you up and meticulously guided your head and arms through the shirt.

"i do. i love you— a lot." you confessed with a smile.

he laid in bed beside you after, throwing the thick duvet over your tired bodies, pulling you close to his chest. he gave you a wide smile, albeit shy, and kissed on your forehead. "i love you more. and not just because you gave me the most amazing fuck in the world."

you snorted. "pfft. i'm sure that wasn't the most amazing."

"it was, though!" he looked at you in the eyes and raised a brow when you looked at him with doubt. "what is it, angel?"

"just.. you've probably had other girls who could please you better before. i mean— i.. i know you love me. i know that. but i guess i kept putting sex off the table because i was scared i might not compare to your past experiences." you shyly admitted, hiding your face.

"what the fuck are you talking about?" he roared out, laughter breaking in between his words. "i don't think i came that much or that hard with anyone else. i almost busted a fat nut on the couch when you told me i could hit."

"sunghoon!" you gasped, slapping at his chest.

"i'm serious! i saw you naked and thought i was getting taken by the light. it was amazing." he chuckled, truth laced in his voice despite the humor behind it.

he leaned back to gaze at you again, a genuine smile on his lips while caressed your cheeks with gentleness. with unrivaled love.

"no one, and i mean no one, can have me like you do, angel. no one can compare to my amazing, beautiful, sexy angel. it's that simple. so quit overthinking it, hm? i love you."

"i know that." you hummed, nodding. "i love you too, hoon."

"i love you more." he grinned, pulling you closer, letting your head rest on his chest.

silence enveloped the room as your exhausted bodies recovered, then he spoke up again. "funny how i was the one telling you to use your words this time around, huh?"

you gave him a hard pinch on his side, making him whimper. "fuck— angel!"

"go to sleep, idiot."

꒰ from ! 🐰 yan ꒱⠀⠀ so.... uh. scratches head. i meant for this to be soft and awkward, but e404 hoon is too near and dear to my heart so he's the perfect softdom!bf and that's canon now i guess. also this is my second time writing smut, so i'd love (kind) feedback on how i did !! ><

⌗ perm taglist (open) ➤  @mariegibeau @kristynaaah @ikeukiss @zerocoded @alex-is-sleeping @ntxs1

© hoonstrology 2025. do not translate, plagiarize, steal, or repost any of my works across any platform.

[hoonharem]

OMG PLEASE PLEASe pLEASE do either jake, sunghoon or heeseung x reader where he’s on the game, and reader is needy and wants to tease him, so she sits underneath the table while he plays and he’s all confused like “pretty girl, why are you under the table?” and reader is teasing him through grey sweatpants (😍) and says “the more kills you get, the deeper i’ll go.” (like deepthroating him) ty ty ty whenever u can ! 💕💕

xiāngs note ! this is so hot omg 😭 chose sunghoon cus I don’t write for him enough so pls enjoy kiwis

warnings ! nsfw, blowjob under the desk, spit/drool, deepthroating + gagging, handjob combo (he’s too big), praise/degradation, cum swallowing.

sunghoon’s headset was slipping crooked as he leaned forward, controller tight in his hands, voice sharp into the mic.

“on me, on me—one shot, fuck, got him,” he muttered, focused, his jaw clenched.

you’d been watching him from the couch, the way his grey sweats stretched over his thighs, the flex of his arms when he clicked furiously. his voice was low, demanding, so confident in-game, and it only made the ache between your legs worse.

so you crawled over. without a word, you slipped under the desk, resting between his legs.

his whole body jolted. “baby? what are you—” his voice cracked in the headset, and he quickly muted himself, glaring down at you with wide eyes. “pretty girl, why are you under the table?”

you smirked, dragging your hand over the hard outline straining in his sweats. “the more kills you get, the deeper i’ll go.”

his breath shuddered. “you’re—fuck—you’re evil.”

he unmuted, forcing himself to keep his voice even. “yeah, i’m here, shut up and push left,” he snapped at his teammate, but his thighs tensed when you tugged his sweats down and his cock sprang free.

thick. long. flushed red at the tip and already leaking.

you wrapped your lips around the head, sucking lightly, your spit smearing instantly.

“jesus—” sunghoon choked, controller jerking in his hands. “fuck—yeah, i’m fine, just—lag spike,” he lied quickly into the mic, face flushed.

you hummed around him, pushing lower, and he bit his lip hard, hips twitching.

“baby,” he hissed quietly, covering his mic. “he’s too thick, you won’t—shit—”

but you tried anyway, gagging as you took him deeper, throat tight around him. drool dripped down your chin, slicking your hand as you stroked the rest of him.

he groaned low, dropping one hand from the controller to fist the base of his cock where your mouth couldn’t reach. long strokes in sync with your sucking.

“fuck, pretty girl, you’re killing me,” he muttered under his breath. his voice shook as he unmuted. “yeah, got another—triple kill, easy.”

your eyes watered as you swallowed around him, and he had to slam his mic off again, dragging his hand through his hair.

“god, you’re so messy—taking me so good, drooling on my cock while i’m trying to play—” he whispered frantically, thighs trembling.

you gagged again when he guided you lower, his hand tight in your hair. his other hand stroked his length, veins straining as he worked the part you couldn’t fit.

“look at you—fuck, choking on me while i’m carrying this match.” he threw his head back, barely holding it together as the victory screen flashed.

the headset filled with cheers, but sunghoon’s mic was muted, his hips lifting off the chair as he groaned.

“baby, i’m close—swallow for me, c’mon, i need it,” he begged, his voice ragged.

with one last push of your mouth, his cock twitched, spilling down your throat. his fist squeezed the base, milking every drop while you gagged and swallowed desperately.

“oh my god,” he moaned, head falling back against the chair, thighs shaking. “you just—fucking ruined me.”

the game screen glowed with victory, but sunghoon barely cared, tugging the headset off, looking down at you with blown-out eyes.

“fuck the kills,” he rasped, thumb swiping spit from your lips. “you’re the only win that matters.”

kiwis (taglist open!) ᪄    ࣪     @charlatted @shortonwon @only4mylove @jjongmi @nekobbin @ilovekuroosm @itzzhana05 @gxwesn @gyarumindd @somuchdard @ssanhwatto @jinxedly @kkxheeluv @enhawonnie @ghost-of-minnie @underscorealastor @yazmike @tokkisluv @chuhees @goon4hee @katseye4mimi @petitnrk @smlbch @ykvdani @avaloveshoon @isagistar @kimuranirisi @leyhaya12 @engene-jakeyy @cheriwonz

[hoonharem]

╰┈➤ First Light - sunghoon

⚡︎ smut big dick! Sunghoon, fingering, multiple orgasms,dirty talk, first time with sunghoon but reader is not a virgin, unprotected sex, cumming inside, squirting.

The evening air was cool against your skin as you stepped into Sunghoon's apartment, the door clicking shut behind you with a soft finality. You'd been dating for a few months now—long enough to know the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the warmth of his hand in yours during late-night walks, and the gentle way he kissed you goodnight. But tonight felt different. There was an unspoken tension humming between you, a promise of something more intimate, more vulnerable.

Sunghoon turned to face you, his tall frame silhouetted against the dim light of the living room lamp. He looked effortlessly handsome in his simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, his dark hair slightly tousled from running his fingers through it earlier. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low and soft, laced with that quiet concern that always made your heart flutter.

You nodded, stepping closer to him, your hands finding their way to his chest. "Yeah, just... nervous, I guess. In a good way." It was the truth. You weren't a virgin—you'd had experiences before, some good, some forgettable—but this was Sunghoon. Your boyfriend, the guy who made you laugh until your sides hurt and held you like you were the most precious thing in his world. The thought of sharing this with him felt huge, exhilarating.

He smiled, that shy, boyish grin that contrasted with his sharp features, and pulled you into his arms. "Me too," he admitted, his breath warm against your ear. "I want this to be perfect for you." His lips brushed your temple, then trailed down to your jaw, soft and teasing. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, and he took the invitation, his kisses growing more insistent as they moved to your neck.

Your hands slipped under his shirt, feeling the firm ridges of his abs, the heat of his skin. He shivered at your touch, a low hum escaping his throat. "God, you drive me crazy," he murmured, his voice rougher now. He backed you toward the bedroom, his hands roaming your sides, pulling at the hem of your dress until it slipped over your head and pooled at your feet.

In the soft glow of his bedside lamp, you stood before him in just your lingerie, feeling exposed but empowered by the way his eyes darkened with desire. "You're so beautiful," he said, almost reverently, as he shrugged off his shirt, revealing the lean, toned body you'd admired from afar during his performances. His sweatpants followed, and when he stepped out of them, your gaze dropped instinctively.

Holy shit. You'd suspected—felt it during heated make-out sessions—but seeing him fully now, hard and ready, made your breath hitch. He was big. Really big. Thicker and longer than anyone you'd been with before. A mix of excitement and apprehension twisted in your stomach.

Sunghoon noticed your wide-eyed stare and chuckled softly, a hint of nervousness in his tone. "Hey, we don't have to if you're not ready. I mean it."

You shook your head, stepping closer to cup his face. "I want to. I want you." Your voice was steady, even as your heart raced. "Just... go slow at first, okay?"

He nodded, his expression softening as he kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made heat pool between your legs. He guided you onto the bed, settling between your thighs, his body a comforting weight above you. "I'll take care of you," he whispered, his fingers tracing the edge of your bra before unclasping it and tossing it aside.

His mouth was on your breasts next, lips and tongue teasing your nipples until they pebbled under his attention. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping as his hand slid down your body, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. "Already so wet for me," he groaned, his fingers circling your clit with just the right pressure. "Fuck, baby, you feel amazing."

You gasped, your hips bucking as he dipped one finger inside you, then another, stretching you gently. He was patient, watching your face for any sign of discomfort, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit to build the pleasure. "Tell me if it's too much," he said, his voice husky with restraint.

"It's good," you breathed, your hands gripping his shoulders. "More, Hoon. Please."

He obliged, curling his fingers just right, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. The room filled with the sound of your whimpers and the slick rhythm of his hand. "That's it," he encouraged, his free hand pinning your hip down as you squirmed. "Let me hear you. You're so fucking tight around my fingers—can't wait to feel you on my cock."

His dirty words sent a thrill through you, pushing you closer to the edge. Your body tensed, and with a cry of his name, you came undone, clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure crashed over you. But he didn't stop—his movements slowed but persisted, drawing out your orgasm until you were trembling.

"First one," he murmured with a smirk, kissing your inner thigh. "Think you can give me another?"

You nodded weakly, still catching your breath, but he was already sliding your panties off, positioning himself between your legs. He rubbed the tip of his cock against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness. "You sure?" he asked one last time, his eyes locking with yours.

"Yes," you whispered, pulling him down for a kiss. "I need you inside me."

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, his size stretching you in a way that bordered on overwhelming. You bit your lip, nails digging into his back as your body adjusted. "Shit, you're huge," you gasped, half-laughing through the intensity.

Sunghoon paused, forehead pressed to yours, his breaths coming in shallow pants. "Am I hurting you? We can stop—"

"No," you interrupted, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him deeper. "Just... keep going. It feels good now."

He groaned, burying his face in your neck as he sank fully into you, bottoming out with a mutual sigh of relief. "Fuck, you take me so well," he praised, his voice strained. "So warm, so perfect for me."

He started moving, slow thrusts at first, letting you get used to him. But as your moans grew louder, his pace quickened, hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that had the bed creaking. The fullness was incredible, every stroke hitting deep, sending jolts of pleasure through you. "Hoon, oh god—harder," you begged, lost in the sensation.

"Like this?" he growled, gripping your thighs to angle you better, pounding into you with a force that made your toes curl. "You love my big cock stretching you out, don't you? Look at you, taking every inch like you were made for it."

His words, combined with the relentless pace, pushed you toward another peak. You felt it building, a pressure unlike anything before—deeper, more intense. "I—I'm gonna—" you stammered, but words failed as your body convulsed, squirting around him in a gush that soaked the sheets.

Sunghoon's eyes widened in awe, his thrusts faltering for a moment before he redoubled his efforts. "Holy fuck, that's hot. You just squirted all over me, baby. Gonna make me cum."

A few more deep thrusts, and he followed, spilling inside you with a low moan, his body shuddering as he filled you up. The warmth of it sent aftershocks through you, your walls milking him dry.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, both of you slick with sweat and breathless. "That was... incredible," he panted, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You okay? Did I go too hard?"

You smiled, snuggling closer, feeling a contented ache between your legs. "I'm perfect. That was everything I wanted."

He chuckled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. "Good. Because I think we're just getting started."

[hoonharem]

TEACH ME —- P.S.H

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅ ⋅•⋅⋅•

What starts as playful flirting lessons turns into real stolen glances, lingering touches, and two people quietly falling — one too scared to admit it, and one already too far gone.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅ ⋅•⋅⋅•

GENRE Romantic Comedy · College AU · Friends to Lovers · Slow-Burn Flirtation

TONE Playful · Emotionally Grounded · Flirt-Heavy · Softly Tense · Lighthearted with Deep Moments

wc: 41k (im sorry)

RATING Mature eventual smut, teasing, emotionally vulnerable intimacy- explicit sexual content, dirty talk, mutual confession, love-drunk behavior, praise kink, fingering, oral (f + mreceiving), squirting, overstimulation, BREEDING penetration, lots of kissing, spit, hair pulling, consent-focused, emotional intimacy, soft aftercare

SYNOPSIS - You're the bold flirt of campus - confident, charming, always one wink ahead of everyone else. Park Sunghoon is your complete opposite: quiet, top of the class, hopeless at flirting. So when you jokingly offer to teach him how to flirt, you expect to lead the game. But lesson by lesson, the rules start to change - and neither of you are pretending anymore. Because somewhere between stolen glances and almost-kisses, you both start falling — only, he's falling harder.

You'd never paid much attention to him before. He always sat two rows ahead of you in Professor Kim's communication seminar — quiet, perfectly straight posture, mechanical note-taking. You knew his name was Park Sunghoon because the attendance sheet always paused on it, like even the roll call respected his GPA. He had a reputation for being brilliant, awkward, and just a little bit... untouchable. And honestly? That made him boring. At least, that was your opinion until today, when Professor Kim assigned that group activity. The one where each pair had to analyze live body language and give a ten-minute presentation on flirtation psychology. In front of the whole class. There were thirty-two students. Sixteen pairs. And somehow, your name got called next to his. You heard the syllables — "Y/N L/N and Park Sunghoon" — and you actually laughed. Out loud. Not because it was funny, but because the universe had a sick sense of humor. Sunghoon turned around slowly in his chair. The eye contact lasted maybe two seconds. Just long enough for you to register the panic behind his sharp, dark eyes, and the way his jaw twitched like he was bracing for impact. Then he turned back to his laptop like you'd physically assaulted him by existing.

"Oh, this'll be fun," you muttered, already biting back a grin.

--

The first five minutes of your "meeting" did not go well. "I just... think we should keep it academic," he said, without looking up from his notebook. You raised an eyebrow. "It's literally a flirtation study." "Yes, but we could do a theoretical breakdown. No need to be... physical." You blinked at him. "You think I'm gonna kiss you in front of the class?" He didn't answer — just flushed a violent red and adjusted his glasses, which you weren't even sure he needed because he'd never worn them before.

Huh. You leaned back in your chair, studying him now. Sharp jaw, neat black hair, starched hoodie. His biceps flexed unintentionally when he crossed his arms, and for a split second, your brain short-circuited. Those arms did not match that personality. At all. And then — there it was. He licked his bottom lip nervously. And you noticed it.

The tiniest flash of a canine tooth that looked a little too sharp. Oh. No. He's a shy nerd with vampire teeth and hidden biceps? You were doomed.

_________

"So," you said, fingers tapping on your pen. "You really have no idea how to flirt, do you?" Sunghoon looked like you slapped him. "What? No, I— I mean, that's not relevant to—" "You've never flirted in your life." "I— That's—" He stammered. "It's not... necessary for academic success."

You burst out laughing. "That's the most Sunghoon thing you could've said." He frowned at you, cheeks still pink. "What does that mean?" "Nothing," you said, still grinning. "Just that this presentation is going to be a mess unless I take full control." He narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?" You leaned forward, chin in hand, smile dangerously bright. "It means I'm gonna teach you how to flirt."

___________

Park Sunghoon blinked at you like you'd just offered to teach him black magic. "Flirt?" he echoed, slowly, like the word had never passed through his mouth before. You tilted your head. "You know. Flirting. Light eye contact. Verbal sparring. Emotional war crimes but in a cute way?" "I don't need to flirt," he said stiffly, pulling his sleeves over his hands. "I'm here to graduate." You deadpanned. "What, with a double major in loneliness and repressed eye contact?" That earned you a sharp glare. Okay, so maybe he had a little fire under all that stiff politeness. Interesting. "Look," you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. "We're paired up. The assignment is literally about analyzing romantic body language. And judging by the way you flinched when I said the word 'kiss,' we're gonna fail unless one of us knows what we're doing."

Sunghoon's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "We could still do a formal breakdown of physical gestures—" "Oh my god, are you trying to PowerPoint your way out of intimacy?"

He sputtered. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing. Just then, a chair screeched behind you. Jake plopped into it backwards, eyes wide, iced matcha in hand, as usual. "Okay, what did I miss? Are we betting on how fast you'll make this man combust?" "Jake," you said sweetly, "this is my partner, Park Sunghoon. Sunghoon, this is Jake — emotional support dumbass."

"Pleasure," Jake said, unbothered. "Love the arms, by the way."

Sunghoon went fully rigid. You could've died on the spot. "Jake." "What?" Jake grinned. "We're all thinking it. Look at the man. He's got 'deceptive hoodie strength.' Like those boyfriends in gym TikToks who throw their girls over their shoulder for no reason. I respect it." Sunghoon muttered something under his breath that sounded like a prayer.

You leaned back with a sigh. "Anyway. I offered to help him. Flirting lessons. For the sake of academia." "Oh no," Jake said, blinking. "You're doing the Thing again." "What thing?" Jake pointed his straw at you. "Where you think you're helping, but actually you're creating another man who'll fall in love with you and suffer quietly for six months."

Sunghoon coughed violently into his elbow. You ignored it.

------

The next day, you met again. And this time, you brought notes. Sunghoon walked into the café ten minutes early, as expected. He wore a clean white tee under an overshirt, glasses pushed up high on his nose. You hated how good his biceps looked when he rolled his sleeves. It was the nerd-hot combo of doom.

You waved him over to your corner booth. He sat like the chair was too fragile to hold the weight of whatever chaos you were planning. "So," you said, sliding a notebook across the table. "Flirting, Lesson One: Eye Contact." He stared at the notebook. "Is that... hand-drawn?" "Of course," you said. "Look at the shading on the smirk diagram. That took me twenty minutes." He blinked. "There's a chart labeled 'wink intensity scale.'" "Don't skip ahead." Sunghoon stared at you. You stared back. And that... that lasted longer than expected. His eyes were dark, serious, intelligent. He didn't break eye contact even once. And for a guy who supposedly didn't know how to flirt? He wasn't blinking.

You shifted a little in your seat. Sunghoon noticed. "Am I doing it wrong?" "No," you said, voice tighter than it should've been. "Actually that was... pretty good." He looked down, suddenly flustered. The spell broke. "Sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm just... good at memorization." You almost choked on your own heartbeat.

⸻

By the time Lesson Two rolled around — "Accidental Touches That Aren't Actually Accidental" — you were beginning to understand something crucial. Sunghoon wasn't naturally flirty.

But he was scarily observant. "Here," you said, brushing his hand with yours over the sample cue cards you made, "see how that hesitation adds just a little tension?" He looked down at your hand. Then up. And he did it again. Deliberately. Fingers grazing yours for a second longer.

You stiffened. "Like that?" he asked, trying to sound clinical. But his voice cracked just slightly at the end. You looked up at him. He looked down at your lips. The air between you shifted. You pulled your hand back. "Yup. Perfect." You needed a moment to breathe.

⸻

Later that night, you recounted it all to Yunjin. She was horizontal on your bed, face down in a bag of kettle chips. "You're telling me he did the 'I'm an academic but accidentally hot' thing?" she asked, crumbs in her hair. "Yes." "And he made eye contact?" "Yes." "And you're not in love yet?" "I didn't say that." She looked up with narrowed eyes. "You're gonna kiss him." "No."

"You're gonna let him ruin you with science." "No!"

Yunjin tossed a chip in your direction. "Babe, you're not his tutor. You're his final exam."

________

Sunghoon was early again.

You weren't even surprised anymore. By the time you got to the library's fourth-floor study room, he was already seated, headphones on, pencil in hand, scribbling something furiously into the corner of a page. His hair was slightly messy today — not in an intentional way, just like he'd forgotten to run a hand through it after his shower. He had on a dark sweatshirt with the sleeves shoved up to his forearms again, and — unfortunately — the same stupidly perfect biceps made a guest appearance. You paused at the door. There was something weirdly calming about watching him before he noticed you. Like some kind of social wildlife documentary. Here we see the elusive nerd in his natural habitat, fully unaware of the emotional destruction he's about to cause.

Then he looked up. And immediately straightened in his chair like he'd been caught doing something illegal. "I wasn't— I was just going over the notes," he said. You blinked. "Notes... for flirting?" He turned pink instantly. "I mean. For class. But also, um, the other notes. I reviewed everything. From Lesson One and Two." You dropped your bag onto the chair beside him, impressed despite yourself. "Wow. You're really taking this seriously."

"It's an assignment," he said, avoiding eye contact again. "We should do well." You nodded slowly, lips twitching into a smirk. "Right. All for the grade." He didn't respond. His ears were red again. God, you were going to eat this boy alive.

⸻

Today's lesson was supposed to be "Tone of Voice." But you barely got through the first five minutes before Ni-ki walked in. "Yo," he said, sliding the door open like he owned the place. "Sunghoon, did you eat lunch or are you still running on shame and academic guilt?" Sunghoon sighed. "Ni-ki, what are you doing here?"

"Delivering food," he said, dramatically placing a brown paper bag on the table. "And moral support." You stared at him. "Do you... know what we're doing?" Ni-ki gave you a look that made you feel like you were twelve and embarrassing yourself at a talent show. "Y/N, the entire third floor knows what you're doing." Your stomach dropped. "What?" "You offered to teach the shy guy how to flirt. In a room with glass walls." He waved behind him. "There's a girl out there who's taking notes."

Sunghoon looked horrified. You pressed your hand over your mouth to stop from laughing.

 Ni-ki leaned in. "Anyway, just wanted to say... good luck. Also, if he starts flirting too well, I will intervene. He's not ready for heartbreak." "I'm not the one who's going to break anyone," you muttered.

Ni-ki smirked, winked, and walked out like he hadn't just set the entire room on fire. Sunghoon stared down at his untouched food like it had personally betrayed him. "...Should we continue?" you asked gently. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Sure."

⸻

You sat across from him, posture relaxed, fingers brushing the edge of your notebook. "Okay," you said. "Lesson Three. Tone."

Sunghoon nodded. "This one's tricky," you explained. "It's not what you say, it's how you say it. You could be saying something totally innocent, but if your voice drops just a little, it sounds..." You trailed off. His eyes were on you now. Steady. Focused. Quiet, but curious. "...Intimate," you finished. Sunghoon swallowed visibly. "So it's... inflection?" "Mmhmm. Try saying something neutral. Like..." You looked around. "Like 'I'm cold.'" He blinked. "I'm cold." "No. That's literal. Say it like..." You dropped your voice half an octave, softening the edges. "I'm cold."

Sunghoon froze. You arched a brow. "Your turn." He hesitated, eyes flicking to your mouth. "I'm..." He coughed. "I'm cold." It wasn't quite there — still a little stiff. But the second time? He looked right at you. Said it slowly. "I'm cold." And it landed. You blinked, slightly breathless. "That was... good." He glanced down. A tiny smile played at the corners of his lips.

You stared at him for a second too long. Your brain caught up. You snapped your notebook shut. "Okay. Lesson over." "But—" "We'll review it again tomorrow. With examples." He tilted his head. "Like what?" "Like— I don't know, tone shifts in compliments or something. Just— practice. With a friend. Not me. A different friend." He nodded, but there was something in his eyes. Something new. You didn't want to name it.

⸻

You ran into Eunchae at the vending machines later. "You've got that look," she said, sipping her juice box like a bored oracle. "What look?" "The 'I taught a boy how to flirt and now I'm scared' look." You groaned. "It's too early for this." "It's never too early for consequences." She tossed you a granola bar. "So. Has he tried to kiss you yet?" "No. Absolutely not." "Do you want him to?" You paused. Eunchae grinned. "Oh. We're in trouble."

⸻

Later that night, you reread your notes. Your handwriting from Lesson One looked ridiculous now. All those diagrams. All those dumb arrows and winking tips. You'd made them for fun — a joke. A challenge. Now it didn't feel so funny anymore. Because when you pictured someone practicing those lessons? You didn't like the thought of him trying them on anyone else. You didn't like it at all.

__________

The next day, you showed up ten minutes late to your own "lesson." Which, okay, technically wasn't your fault. Yunjin had cornered you in the hallway with a look that screamed trouble and immediately launched into a full-throttle spiral about whether she should text her ex "for closure" or "just to set his car on fire with emojis." By the time you escaped, you were speed-walking into the library study room with a bag of snacks, zero shame, and half your hair falling out of its clip. Sunghoon looked up from the desk like he hadn't moved in hours. "You're late," he said, but his voice wasn't annoyed — just observant. His usual soft-spoken calm. You dropped into the chair beside him. "You'll live. I brought Cheez-Its."

He blinked. "I'm lactose intolerant." You stared at him. He stared back. Then — and this was new — he smirked. "I'm kidding," he said. You blinked again. Was that... his first ever joke? Was it funny? Not really. Was it earth-shattering because he said it? Yes. You slid the snack bag across the table. "Okay, I'm gonna pretend you didn't just emotionally destroy me with dry humor. Ready for Lesson Four?" He nodded. Calm. Composed. You, meanwhile, had forgotten your own notes at home and were now pulling a half-crumpled worksheet from the bottom of your bag like a clown.

Today's topic: "Flirting in Context: Using Situations to Your Advantage." Totally harmless.

Totally fine. You glanced at the paper. Read the fake scenario aloud. "'Pretend you're trying to flirt with someone who just helped you pick up your dropped books. Your goal is to thank them and make it clear you're interested — without being too obvious.'"

You glanced up. "Okay. So let's say you dropped your stuff. I helped. You now have five seconds to shoot your shot." Sunghoon shifted in his seat, expression uncertain. You gave him a soft smile. "Don't overthink it. Just try." He nodded slowly. Then turned toward you, leaned forward just slightly — enough that the air changed. "Thanks," he said, voice lower than usual. "For helping." You tilted your head. "And?" He hesitated. Then his gaze dropped — slowly, deliberately — to your lips, then back up. "I'd offer to buy you coffee as a thank you, but I'm worried I'd get distracted watching you drink it." Your brain stuttered. What. What the hell. Sunghoon blinked at you. "Was that bad? It felt... too much."

You swallowed. "No, it was... good."

It was very good. It was dangerously good. "Where'd you get that line?" you asked, trying to sound neutral. He shrugged, cheeks pinking slightly. "Watched a rom-com last night. Took notes." You blinked. "You took notes on Netflix flirting?" He nodded. "Verbal delivery is more effective when there's a context model." You put your face in your hands.

⸻

An hour later, you were both packing up. The air was calm again. Neutral. The tension from earlier had been tucked away into a sealed, politely unacknowledged box — as always. You threw your bag over your shoulder. "Hey," you said lightly, "are you coming to the comms mixer tomorrow?" Sunghoon paused. "Mixer?" "Yeah — just a chill department thing. Free food. Mild chaos. Jake's going. Probably Eunchae too."

He hesitated. "You don't have to stay long," you added. "But it might be good... you know, for context." Sunghoon looked at you for a second longer than normal. Then nodded. "I'll go. For... research." You smiled, satisfied. "For science."

⸻

That night, your dorm was buzzing with noise. Jake had crashed on your floor to help "emotionally prep" you for the mixer by giving a dramatic reading of all your past bad decisions in chronological order. "And THEN," he said, standing on your desk like a Broadway villain, "she said, and I quote, 'flirting lessons will be good for him. I'm doing a service.'" Yunjin groaned from the bed. "A service? Girl, you're trying to seduce him with school supplies." "I am not!" Jake pointed a chewed pen at you. "Then explain why he made eye contact during a fake scenario and you sat there breathing like you just got hit by a semi."

You threw a pillow at him.

"I'm serious," Jake said, sitting down for once. "This boy is learning way too fast. He's either a natural or he's in love." You opened your mouth to argue. And couldn't. Yunjin leaned over and smacked your leg gently. "Bestie, you are so not immune to him." You groaned into your comforter. "It's too soon." Jake raised a brow. "You're teaching a man with visible biceps, vampire teeth, and perfect memory how to flirt. You're already doomed."

---

The next morning, you got a text.

[Sunghoon]: will you be at the mixer at 5?

You stared at your screen. Then replied:

[You]: yeah. why?

A beat passed.

Then his response lit up:

[Sunghoon]: just want to know who to look for.

You stared again. Sat down. And decided then and there you were in deep, deep trouble.

__________

College mixers were supposed to be awkward. That was just science. People stood in clumps like bad salad, half-holding paper plates full of grocery store cookies, pretending to be social while calculating the exact second it would be acceptable to leave without being judged. The snack table was a battlefield. The name tags were a lie. And no one — no one — actually wanted to be there longer than thirty-five minutes.

You, however, were thriving. Because when you knew how to work a room — when you were wearing your favorite skirt, and your lip gloss was glossy but not too glossy, and your top was tight in a way that said I'm approachable, but only if you're funny — these events turned into a kind of sport. Also: Jake was there. Which meant you were in for a show whether you wanted one or not.

"Tell me again," Jake said, dramatically swirling his plastic cup of lemon soda like it was vintage wine. "Why are we wasting our Friday evening surrounded by 22-year-old philosophy bros who think Plato invented flirting?" You snorted. "You said you wanted to emotionally support me."

"I do," he replied. "But I also want nachos. And a man with arms. I've seen neither." You pointed at the snack table. "There's guac." Jake gave it a glance. "That's not guac. That's a cry for help." You rolled your eyes and looked toward the door again. Sunghoon wasn't here yet. Which was fine. Normal. It wasn't like you were counting the minutes. Or fixing your hair every five seconds. Or replaying yesterday's I'd get distracted watching you drink coffee line in your head like it was a scene from a K-drama. Except... yeah. You were absolutely doing all of that.

And Jake noticed. "Oh my god," he whispered, clutching his chest. "She's got it bad." "I do not." "You've got the what if he touches my hand again on purpose this time look in your eye." "I do not!" "You wore your flirtiest skirt." "This is a normal skirt!" Jake gasped. "And the matching gloss? You hussy." "Shut up!"

But he just cackled and looped his arm through yours, dragging you away from the snack table and toward the little circle of people mingling by the projector. "Let's at least pretend to be social before you emotionally combust over your lab partner."

"He's not my lab partner." "He's your lesson plan with biceps." You said nothing. Because unfortunately, he was right.

---

You didn't notice Sunghoon arrive. You felt it. One minute you were in the middle of nodding politely through a senior's long, winding monologue about his thesis on media representation in 20th-century soap commercials, and the next— You felt the shift. A ripple. A presence. That weird crackle in the air when you know someone's looking at you — really looking. You turned your head. And there he was.

Park Sunghoon stood just inside the entrance. Dressed in his usual slightly-too-clean hoodie layered over a white shirt, hands shoved into his pockets, his posture a perfect balance of tense and composed. He scanned the room once — quick, efficient, quietly watchful — and then his eyes landed on you.

Your heart did something inconvenient. Sunghoon started walking toward you. Jake noticed before you did. "Ohhh boy," he said under his breath. "He's doing the walk." "What walk?" "The I came to see someone walk. He's zeroing in, Y/N." You tried to act normal. Casual. Chill.

You failed. Because Sunghoon stopped in front of you and said, softly, like you were the only one in the room:

"Hi." You blinked. "Hi." He looked at Jake. Nodded. "Hey." Jake gave a theatrical little bow. "I'll leave you two alone before I get third-degree burns from the tension. If you need me, I'll be over there pretending to understand grad students."

And then he was gone. Just like that, you were standing alone with Sunghoon at a mixer surrounded by fifty people, but somehow, it felt like the only sound in the room was your own heartbeat. "You came," you said, stupidly. He nodded. "You asked." You bit your lip. "Was it hard to find?" "No. I followed the noise." "Smart." Sunghoon gave a quiet, awkward chuckle — just a single exhale, but the sound hit you harder than expected. His eyes flicked down to your outfit, just briefly, before darting back up. You tried not to feel the way your stomach fluttered.

"You look—" he started.

You raised a brow. "Yeah?" His throat bobbed. "You look... confident." You blinked. That was such a Sunghoon answer. Not hot. Not pretty. Not beautiful. Confident. But the way he said it — like it mattered — made something in you soften. "Thank you," you said, genuinely. You weren't sure why your chest felt so full.

---

"Okay," you said, trying to break the tension. "Wanna play a game?" He blinked. "What kind?"

You grabbed two cups of soda and pulled him toward the corner of the room, where a big whiteboard had been set up with Expo markers and a prompt at the top: "Describe yourself in three words." "Come on," you said, handing him a marker. "We're doing this."

He stared at the board like it was a final exam. "You first," he said.

You scribbled quickly: chaotic, flirty, semi-responsible

Then passed him the marker. "Your turn." Sunghoon hesitated. Then slowly, carefully, wrote:

quiet, observant, trying

You paused. Looked at him. His expression was guarded, but something behind his eyes was soft. Like maybe he didn't realize how honest he'd just been. "Trying?" you echoed. He glanced at you. Then down. "Yeah."

You didn't say anything. Just smiled. "Okay," you said after a pause. "New lesson." He looked up. "We're going to test how well you remember Lesson Two. Accidental touches." Sunghoon stiffened. "In public?"

"Don't worry," you said, stepping closer — close enough to feel the heat from his arm. "Just follow my lead." You reached for your cup at the same time he did.

Fingers brushed. Paused. You didn't move away. Neither did he. You looked up. His breath caught — just slightly. But it was there. You smiled. "You passed."

Jake returned twenty minutes later, looked between the two of you once, and whispered under his breath: "Oh no. They're making eye contact. We're past the point of no return."

________

You ended up at a table in the far back of the mixer, somehow sandwiched between a half-eaten bowl of tortilla chips and a girl from the senior cohort who was aggressively pitching her student documentary about postmodern loneliness. Sunghoon sat across from you, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie like he was trying not to take up space. His name tag had somehow slipped down his chest at an awkward angle and was now reading P. Sunghoo, and for a solid five minutes he hadn't noticed. You didn't correct him. It was too cute. Jake noticed, though. "Oh my god, give me that," he muttered, walking over from across the room and snatching the crooked name tag off Sunghoon's chest like a concerned mother. "You look like someone who wandered in here by accident."

Sunghoon blinked up at him. "I... didn't notice." Jake fixed the tag, patted him lightly on the shoulder, and said with utmost seriousness: "You're flirting with a girl who wore eyeliner for you. You need to notice more." "Jake," you groaned. "What? I'm a wingman. It's my moral duty."

Jake flounced off again, leaving Sunghoon frozen mid-sip of his soda, ears bright pink. You smiled at him from across the table. "Ignore him. He gets dramatic when the crowd isn't about him." Sunghoon set the cup down carefully. "You wore eyeliner for me?"

You froze. He was looking at you now — directly. Not coy. Not teasing. Just curious. You laughed, flustered. "I wore eyeliner because I like eyeliner." He nodded slowly, almost like he was filing the answer away. "You look nice." You blinked. It wasn't flirtatious. It wasn't delivered with confidence. He said it like a fact — something undeniable, something obvious, something he'd probably been sitting on for the last thirty minutes.

Your chest tightened. "Thanks," you said, your voice softer than usual. "You do too." His eyes dropped for a second — not to check you out, but like he didn't know what to do with compliments when they came back to him. You wanted to touch his hand again. You didn't.

--

Eventually, Yunjin found you both and sat down beside you with a plate full of veggie sticks and a raised eyebrow. "So," she said, casually. "What's happening here?" "We're talking," you said.

"I can see that. But are you flirting or studying flirting? Because the line is blurrier than my foundation in this lighting."

Sunghoon turned bright red again and opened his mouth to respond — but Jake plopped down beside him before he could. Jake took one look at Sunghoon's expression and announced, "Oh yeah. We've entered the girl makes one joke and boy thinks about it for twelve hours phase." You covered your face with your hand. "Please stop analyzing him like a lab rat." "Then stop conducting experiments on innocent STEM boys!" Jake protested. "I feel like I'm watching someone flirt with a golden retriever that has anxiety."

"I do not have anxiety," Sunghoon mumbled. Yunjin patted his arm. "It's okay. Everyone here does. It's academic." Sunghoon gave a tiny, helpless smile. And weirdly, it suited him. He wasn't comfortable in loud groups, that much was obvious. But he was trying — not just showing up, but staying. Listening. Sitting beside you with his whole posture tilted slightly in your direction, like the room wasn't half as important as wherever you were. It made something quiet and warm unfurl in your ribs.

---

Eventually, people began to drift out. The lights dimmed. The professor hosting the event made a round of awkward "thank you for coming" announcements, and music started playing low through someone's Bluetooth speaker — barely a hum in the background, but enough to signal that the mixer had reached its vague after-hours phase. Yunjin and Jake wandered off, muttering about bathroom selfies and "accidentally" crashing the grad student mixer happening one floor up. Sunghoon looked at you. "Do you want to leave?" You hesitated. Then shook your head. "Let's stay. Just a little longer." So you did.

You ended up sitting next to each other on a window bench near the back of the room, legs stretched out, your shoulder brushing his lightly every time you shifted. At one point, someone brought out a deck of conversation prompt cards. They got passed around — silly, half-serious icebreakers. But when one of them ended up in your hand, you raised a brow and read it out loud. "'What's something you've always wanted to say to someone but never had the nerve to?'" Sunghoon tensed beside you. You looked at him. He looked straight ahead. Then, after a pause, he said — so quietly you almost didn't hear it: "Sometimes... I wish I didn't care about doing everything right." You turned your head slowly. Sunghoon was still staring at the floor.

"People expect me to have answers," he said. "To act a certain way. To be composed. I'm not good at... this." His voice dropped a little. "Talking. Feeling. Whatever this is."

You said nothing. Just waited. After a moment, he looked at you. "But I want to learn." Your breath hitched. And then, because you didn't know what else to do, you reached out and nudged his wrist gently with your fingers. It wasn't a big gesture. Not a hand-hold. Not a grab. Just... contact. His breath caught. He looked down at where your fingers grazed his wrist. Then back up. And smiled. Small. Honest. Not performative. Not part of the "lesson." Just real.

---

Jake found you later, walking back toward the dorms with your arms folded tight around your ribs and a look in your eye that could only mean trouble. He raised both brows. "So. Did we hold hands? Accidentally brush shoulders? Accidentally fall in love?" You looked up at him, dazed. "I'm not sure what we did." Jake wrapped an arm around your shoulders, smirking like the cat who got the entire bakery. "Ohhh girl," he said. "It's already over for you."

________

You didn't see Sunghoon for three days.

Okay, technically you did see him — across campus, in passing, once from a distance in the dining hall when he was talking to Eunchae over a tray of rice and soup — but he didn't see you. Or if he did, he didn't wave. He didn't text, either. Not that he owed you anything. You weren't dating. You weren't flirting — technically.

You were just two students working on an assignment about human interaction, using your combined awkwardness and suppressed sexual tension to somehow pass a Communications elective neither of you should've taken in the first place. Totally normal. You weren't spiraling. Until Jake found you in your room on the fourth night, lying face-down on the floor like the carpet could absorb your feelings. "Okay," he said, staring down at your body like it was a crime scene. "Which character are you being today? Damsel in distress, abandoned mistress, or emotionally repressed boy from a 2007 indie film?"

"Option four," you mumbled. "Which is?" "Academic delusion. Girl who thinks she's normal until she teaches a hot boy how to flirt and then he vanishes." Jake stepped over you like a tragic puddle and collapsed onto your bed. "He didn't vanish. He's not Houdini. He's a STEM major."

"He's avoiding me." "He's probably scared." You turned your head, suspicious. "Scared of what?" Jake stared at the ceiling. "Of how hard he's falling."

You blinked. Then sat up. Jake watched you carefully. "Listen, babe. You're a lot. I say that with love. You walk into rooms like they're yours. You make eye contact like it's a weapon. And you offered to teach someone like Sunghoon how to flirt." He paused. "Of course he's freaking out."

You sighed. "Anyway," Jake continued, flopping dramatically onto his side, "didn't Professor Kim assign a new group task?" Your eyes widened. "Oh god. The presentation outline. It's due tomorrow."

 Jake raised a brow. "You're meeting him, right?" You swallowed. "Library. 6pm." Jake grinned. "Then wear something unholy and make him regret whatever existential crisis he's having."

---

You didn't wear anything unholy. In fact, you wore jeans, a sweatshirt, and lip balm that had mostly faded by the time you got to the fourth floor of the library. The study rooms were mostly empty — dim, quiet, that kind of soft silence that made your heartbeat feel too loud. Sunghoon was already there. He was sitting at the end of the table, notes spread out in neat rows, laptop open, sleeves rolled just past his elbows like usual. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered right before coming. He looked up when you entered.

And for a moment, neither of you said anything. Then— "Hi," he said, soft. "Hey." You slid into the seat next to him. Not across. Next. Your shoulder didn't touch his, but it could have. Your knees could, too, if you moved an inch. You didn't. "Sorry," he said. "I meant to message you earlier. I've just been—" "Busy," you filled in, smiling a little. "It's okay. So have I."

He looked at you for a second longer. Then nodded. You didn't ask why he hadn't texted. You didn't ask if he was thinking about what happened at the mixer. The almost-hand-holding. The eye contact. The trying. You just opened your laptop. "Okay," you said, voice light, "let's outline this thing before I start fake-flirting with the professor to buy more time." Sunghoon blinked. "Would that work?" You smirked. "Only one way to find out." He looked away quickly, but you caught the edge of his smile.

---

An hour in, the presentation was outlined, half the script drafted, and you were halfway into a pack of gummy worms when your arm brushed his. Not accidentally. Not on purpose either. It just happened. And it happened again when you both reached for the same highlighter. And again when he leaned slightly toward you to reread a line and your knees bumped under the table. You didn't pull away. Neither did he. You didn't speak about it. But the air started to feel full. Like something invisible had taken a seat at the table with you, sat between your arms and over your legs, filling the space with all the words neither of you wanted to be the first to say. You swallowed. "So." He glanced at you.

You didn't look back. "When are you gonna practice Lesson Five?" He was silent. You turned to face him slowly. He was already watching you. "What's Lesson Five?" he asked, voice quieter than usual. You tilted your head, heart ticking faster. "Proximity. Space. Intimacy cues." He blinked. "Most people think it's about touching," you explained, keeping your tone calm, casual. "But it's more subtle than that. It's about leaning in. Invading space. Reading reactions." Sunghoon said nothing.

So you leaned forward — just a little. A breath of space. And his gaze dropped immediately to your mouth. Your breath caught. "Like that," you whispered. He didn't move. Didn't look away. Didn't blink. You leaned back slowly, pulse hammering in your throat. He cleared his throat. Picked up his pen. Looked down at the table. And said nothing. The silence stretched. Then— "I think about it," he said suddenly. You froze. He still wasn't looking at you. Just staring at his notes, pen unmoving. You found your voice. "Think about what?" His fingers curled slightly on the edge of the page. "The... lessons. Afterward. When I'm home. I think about what I should've done differently. What I could've tried." You didn't say anything. His voice dropped, barely audible. "And sometimes I think about things you haven't taught me yet." You stopped breathing. The space between you buzzed. You wanted to ask what he meant. You didn't. Instead, you just nodded slowly, your heartbeat so loud you were sure he could hear it.

---

You left the library together just after nine. The night air was cold, crisp, and quiet. He walked beside you without speaking, his shoulder just close enough to brush yours when you turned a corner. At one point, you asked, "You heading back to the dorms?" He nodded. You smiled. "Good. You need to sleep before you try to process any more body language." He laughed. Just once. But it was soft. Real. You stopped outside the dorm building. Neither of you moved. Sunghoon looked at you. Then, like it cost him something— "Thanks. For... teaching me." You looked up. "You're a fast learner."

And before he could reply — before he could pull away or retreat or say something too clinical — you leaned in and pressed your lips softly to his cheek. Just for a second. His breath caught. And then you stepped back. "Lesson Six," you said, grinning. "Unexpected reward for good progress." Sunghoon just stood there. Eyes wide. Frozen. You waved and turned. Didn't look back. But if you had... you might've seen him touch the spot where your lips had been like he didn't believe it actually happened.

__________

"You kissed him?" "I did not kiss him." Jake stopped mid-crunch, a baby carrot half-hanging from his mouth. You stared at the whiteboard in your shared dorm kitchen, where he was currently drawing a visual breakdown of your life like it was a high-stakes conspiracy theory. He pointed to the triangle he'd labeled "CHEEK CONTACT??" and glared. "You kissed him. On the cheek. That counts. It's over."

"It was a reward!"

"For what — existing?" "He showed up! He's trying! It was... encouragement." "Babe, you don't encourage your classmates by kissing them on the face." You sighed and flopped onto the couch, stealing one of his carrots out of spite. "I'm not having this argument again." Jake tossed the marker onto the kitchen counter and plopped down beside you. "Okay, but seriously. How do you feel?" You hesitated. "I... don't know." "Do you like him?" "I like who he's becoming. I like who he is when he's not thinking so hard about how to act." Jake raised a brow. "You like him." You didn't answer. Because maybe you did. But maybe you weren't ready to deal with what that meant yet.

---

Across campus, Sunghoon was staring blankly at his laptop screen, the cursor blinking at the top of a blank Google Doc while Eunchae monologued behind him. "I swear, if that ethics professor docks my grade again for 'not citing vibes,' I'm gonna launch myself into the river."

Sunghoon blinked. "You mean for not citing your sources?" "I mean for not citing his exact opinion word-for-word while pretending to have an original thought. If I wanted to be punished for using my own brain, I'd join the debate team." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "You're not on the debate team?" "God, no. I have taste." He huffed a soft laugh and turned back to his laptop. Eunchae watched him for a second. Then leaned forward on the desk, chewing on her pen. "So..." she said. He didn't respond. "Anything you wanna talk about? Like, say... cheek-based developments? Related to a certain someone whose eyeliner game is violently illegal?"

Sunghoon's ears turned pink. Eunchae grinned. "I knew it. You're so obvious." "It was just—" he hesitated. "It wasn't... anything."

"Right. Just casual cheek kisses. The normal academic kind." He rubbed the back of his neck. "She said it was a reward." "For what?"

"Progress." Eunchae blinked. "Damn. I need to join this class." By Wednesday, campus was buzzing again — not about you, thankfully, but about the upcoming protest march downtown. You heard about it first from Yunjin, who knocked twice on your door and barged in without waiting for a response. "Okay," she said, dropping her tote onto your desk chair. "We're going."

You blinked. "Going where?" "To the protest." "The tuition hike protest?" "Obviously." You sat up. "When is it?" "Saturday. City center. Noon. Wear black. Bring water. Also a sign." You blinked. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because you're a chronic overthinker and I need to give you three business days to process anything mildly political."

"That's... accurate."

She tossed you a granola bar. "Get mad. The school's screwing us over and pretending it's a financial necessity. You like justice. Pretend it's hot." You laughed. "Also," Yunjin added with a smirk, "I may or may not have invited certain tall academic men to join us." You stared. She raised her brows. "I didn't say Sunghoon," she said. "But, like, I didn't not say it either."

Later that day, you found yourself at the coffee shop near campus, trying to focus on your part of the project script while Jake and Eunchae argued about the best condiment. "Okay but hear me out," Jake said, sipping his iced drink like he was about to drop a TED Talk. "Ketchup is just red sugar with delusions of relevance."

Eunchae stared at him. "That's unhinged." "It's the truth." "You put hot sauce on plain white rice." "That's flavorful. Ketchup is just capitalism in a packet." You were about to intervene when a familiar voice spoke quietly from behind you. "Is this seat taken?"

You turned. Sunghoon stood there, holding a cup of tea and looking like he'd rehearsed that line four times in his head before saying it. You blinked. "It is now." He sat down beside you. Close, but not touching. His shoulder hovered just inches from yours. Jake raised his brows and mouthed ooooohhhhhh. You ignored him. Sunghoon looked at your open laptop. "Is this... for the script?" You nodded. "I was rewriting the transitions between sections. You can look if you want." He did. Silently. His brow furrowed slightly in thought. You could practically hear the gears turning. Eventually, he nodded. "It's good." You smiled. "You sound surprised." "I'm not," he said, and then added quickly, "I mean— I'm not surprised. Just— impressed."

Jake fake-gagged. "You guys are adorable. I hate it here." Eunchae leaned across the table. "So, Sunghoon. You marching Saturday?" He blinked. "Marching?"

"The protest. City square. Tuition hike resistance. Screaming into the void."

"I— I hadn't planned to—"

"You should come," you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyes flicked to yours. "You'll be there?" You nodded. Sunghoon hesitated. Then said, quietly: "Then I'll come." Jake knocked over his cup.

_____

The square was already packed when you arrived. You weren't expecting it to be this loud.

Megaphones crackled. Drums beat from somewhere near the front line. Students held up signs, arms stretched high over their heads — slogans painted in angry black and red, bold and hurried, some scrawled in permanent marker on the backs of old pizza boxes.

NO JUSTICE, NO TUITION

WE'RE NOT ATMs

PAY TO BREATHE? 

Yunjin handed you a sharpie and a blank board before you could blink.

"Make it sassy or make it loud," she said, adjusting her ponytail. "No in-between." You hesitated, then started writing. I CAME FOR A DEGREE NOT DEBT TRAUMA Jake leaned over your shoulder. "Gorgeous. Devastating. Ten out of ten." "I aim to please."

Eunchae was standing beside him, oversized hoodie flapping around her thighs in the wind, drawing tiny cartoon fists of rage all over her own sign. She added a single sparkle sticker in the corner. For flair. "So," she said casually. "Where's our awkward prince?" You blinked. "Who?" She gave you a flat look. You pretended not to hear.

---

Sunghoon arrived ten minutes later, backpack slung over one shoulder, hoodie zipped halfway up, eyes scanning the crowd like he was walking into a final exam. You spotted him before he spotted you — not because of anything he did, but because of how he moved. Carefully.

Soft-footed. Like he didn't quite believe he belonged. But he was here. He saw you. And then he made a beeline. You didn't say anything at first — just offered him the spare granola bar from your pocket and nudged your elbow into his. "You came." "You said you'd be here." You smiled. He looked down at your sign. Read it. His lips twitched. Then he surprised you. He reached for the sharpie in your hand, flipped your board over, and without a word, wrote something on the back. You leaned in to read it.

IF YOU RAISE MY TUITION I'LL START SELLING MY NOTES TO YOUR MOM

You burst out laughing. Jake glanced over. "Oh my god. You corrupted him." Yunjin glanced up from where she was braiding Eunchae's hair. "No, she just let him be funny in public for the first time in his life." Sunghoon flushed, but the corners of his mouth pulled up. You watched him watching you. And felt something quiet crack open in your chest.

---

As the march started moving — slow, pulsing, chants rising and falling — you found yourself walking beside him without even trying. You were shoulder to shoulder. Hip to hip. When the crowd surged and you stumbled, his hand caught your arm without hesitation. "You okay?" he asked, voice close to your ear. You nodded. His hand stayed there a second too long.

---

At one point, a journalism student with a campus press pass and a painfully retro camera stopped you. "Can we get a shot of you two holding signs together?" You blinked. "Oh— we're not—" But Sunghoon had already stepped forward, still awkward but strangely willing, lifting his side of the board beside yours. The photo clicked. The journalist grinned. "Perfect. You two look good together." You didn't respond. Sunghoon didn't either. But you both went very quiet.

---

By the time the protest circled back to the starting point, the air had changed. The energy was electric. People were still shouting, laughing, clapping each other on the back. Several professors were giving short speeches on the steps of the admin building. The student body president took the mic at one point and got booed — loudly — for talking about "institutional patience." You and your friends had migrated to the edge of the green, sprawled out on the dry grass like a post-battle movie scene. Jake was flat on his back, sunglasses on, drinking from someone else's water bottle. "Okay," he muttered. "I hate this school. But I love revolution." Eunchae was braiding daisy stems into a crown for no reason. Yunjin was arguing with a poli-sci senior about participatory democracy while casually removing her earrings in case the debate turned violent. And Sunghoon? Sunghoon was sitting beside you again. Legs stretched out. Hands resting in his lap. Shirt slightly clinging to his arms because of the sun. His cheeks were pink from the heat. And for once, he wasn't fidgeting. You turned to him. "How're you feeling?" He thought about it. Then said, "Louder." You blinked. "Huh?"

He looked at you, eyes clear. "I'm not usually this... loud. But I don't hate it."

You smiled. "It suits you." He looked away. But not before you saw it — that same flicker of expression you were starting to learn. The tiny, soft tremor of emotion beneath the surface. Not pride. Not shyness. Just... something real.

---

And then it happened. A tall guy walked by. Tall, built, clearly from your department. You knew him vaguely — group project from last semester, always wore backwards caps and smelled like cologne and gum. He stopped.

"Y/N, hey," he said, flashing you a grin. "Didn't expect to see you out here." You blinked. "Hey... Theo?"

"Yeah!" He smiled, and then — very casually — crouched beside you, eyeing your sign. "Still funny, I see." You laughed, polite. Sunghoon sat very, very still. "You marching?" Theo asked. "Yeah. You?" "Just got here. You coming to the post-march dinner thing at Vespa's? Bunch of us from comms are heading there after this." You hesitated. "I didn't know about that."

"Well, now you do." He smiled. "Bring your friend." He glanced at Sunghoon like he'd only just noticed him. You glanced between them. Sunghoon's jaw was tense. Theo stood. "See you there?" "Maybe," you said. He left. The moment hung in the air like smoke. Jake whispered to Eunchae: "Oh no. Theo's trying to eat." Sunghoon didn't say anything for a long time. Then, very quietly, he said: "Who was that?" You looked at him. "Theo. We worked on a comms project last year." He nodded once. Then looked away. You blinked. Was that... irritation? No. No way. You bit back a smile. "You okay?" "I'm fine." "You sure?" He didn't respond. So you leaned in. Close enough for your shoulder to press against his. For your breath to graze his ear. "He's not my type," you whispered. Sunghoon froze. Then looked at you. And this time? He didn't smile. He just stared. Like he wasn't thinking anymore. Just watching. You sat back slowly. Heart pounding.

_________

Vespa's was packed by the time you got there. The student protest crowd had migrated like clockwork — from megaphones to menu boards — filling the little corner bistro with the chaotic hum of post-rally adrenaline. People were still in protest shirts, still holding signs tucked awkwardly under tables, voices hoarse from chanting but laughing anyway. Music played softly in the background. Every table was full. You and your friends managed to claim a corner booth. Sunghoon sat to your left again, pressed lightly to the wall, legs too long under the narrow table. Yunjin sat directly across from you, already halfway through her soda, and Jake was attempting to charm the waitress into letting him order a cocktail despite clearly being underage. "It's for the cause," he argued. "Solidarity shot."

"It's a family restaurant," she replied flatly. "Every family has secrets." She walked away. You were still laughing when Eunchae squeezed in beside Yunjin and dropped her phone on the table. "Okay. Update. I just got a DM from someone who saw the protest photo of you and Sunghoon on the student media account." You blinked. "They posted that?" She nodded. "Caption: 'Academic revolutionaries 😌✊' — it's already trending in the campus group chat." Jake leaned in, eyes wide. "You're going viral. You're flirt-activist famous." "I hate that." Sunghoon was staring at the table. You nudged him lightly with your foot. "You okay?" He nodded. "Just... new." "New?"

He looked up at you. "Being seen. By strangers." You paused. "I like it," he added quickly. "I think. Just not used to it."

You didn't push him. Just smiled. "You'll get used to it."

---

Food arrived. Conversation shifted. Yunjin started telling a story about her ex-girlfriend who used to protest everything — from tuition hikes to vending machine price changes.

"She once handcuffed herself to the campus cat statue because they took out the Matcha KitKats," she said, poking at her fries. "We broke up two weeks later. I loved her. But I also love breathing room."

"You date the worst people," Jake said, sipping his soda like it was tea. "Didn't your last ex say she hated music?" "She said she outgrew music."

Eunchae groaned. "That's like saying you outgrew joy." Sunghoon blinked. "Wait, do you all have exes?" Jake pointed at him. "Don't change the subject. You clearly don't. Spill." Sunghoon looked mildly cornered. "I've... dated. Kind of." You stared. "Kind of?"

"I went on a few dates. In first year. Nothing serious." Yunjin raised a brow. "Did you like her?" "She was nice," he said after a pause. Eunchae sipped her drink. "But?" "She made fun of my major. Said I was too intense."

You opened your mouth. "You're not—" Jake cut in. "Oh, he's intense. But it's hot." Sunghoon turned red again. Yunjin leaned forward. "So what is your type, then?" He blinked. "What?"

"Your type," she repeated. "You've been flirting for two weeks. You must have preferences." You watched him carefully. Sunghoon didn't look at anyone. Just traced the edge of his glass. Then, quietly, "People who aren't afraid to say what they want." You felt your stomach flutter.

He wasn't looking at you. But he didn't need to. Because the table went quiet for just long enough to make it obvious. Then Jake — thank god — cut the silence by coughing dramatically and announcing, "Well, my type are unavailable people with emotional issues, so I'll just keep suffering."

--

Later, after the food was gone and the noise had thinned, you found yourself standing outside Vespa's with Sunghoon while the others lingered behind to settle the bill. It was quiet. A soft breeze curled through the narrow street, leaves rustling, the smell of garlic and asphalt hanging in the air. You crossed your arms. "You survived your first social protest dinner." He nodded. "I liked it." You smiled. "Even the interrogations?" He glanced sideways. "Some of them." Silence again. Then—

"I liked what you said," he added, voice low.

You blinked. "About what?"

"In the square. About Theo not being your type."

Your breath caught. He didn't look at you when he said it. Just stared ahead. Calm. Still. But his hands were in his pockets. His jaw tight. You wanted to say something. Something real. Something you hadn't prepared as a lesson. But the door swung open behind you, and Jake's voice crashed the moment. "There you are! God, you two are always standing like you're in a movie scene. Come back. I'm starting round two of 'Rate My Ex.'"

You laughed. Sunghoon smiled. But the moment had already passed.

--

That night, you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling. You didn't dream about kissing him. You dreamed about the way he looked when he was thinking too hard — eyebrows slightly drawn, lower lip caught between his teeth. The way his voice changed when he said something honest. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren't watching. And the fact that, maybe, you weren't as unaffected as you thought. Maybe you were thinking too hard now, too.

__________

The campus library on Thursday afternoons was unusually quiet — too quiet for midterm season. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, slanting across the carpet in faded gold streaks, warming up even the coldest corners of the old fourth floor. You liked it here. It felt... removed. Peaceful. Neutral ground. Sunghoon was already there. You spotted him as soon as you walked in — same table near the back, same stupidly neat spread of books and flashcards and pastel highlighters organized by hue. He sat with his sleeves pushed to his elbows again (of course), legs stretched under the table, brows drawn slightly as he read.

He didn't look up when you dropped into the seat across from him.

"I got you a brownie," you said, sliding it across the table. He blinked. "What for?" "For being brave enough to survive a group dinner without combusting."

A soft smile tugged at his lips.

"I didn't combust."

"Mm. You got close."

"I kept my cool."

"You turned red when Jake said you had 'flirt potential.'"

"That's not a real phrase."

"It is now. I'm coining it."

He took the brownie. You watched him unwrap it carefully, like he didn't want to smudge the wrapper, then take a bite with all the elegance of someone raised by Google Docs and academic shame. It was cute. Disturbingly cute. You opened your laptop before your brain could wander any further.

---

You were supposed to be editing the structure for your final presentation. Instead, you found yourself watching him underline a passage in his notebook. He didn't underline normally. He used a ruler. A ruler. It was both tragic and weirdly endearing.

"Do you ever," you said casually, "relax?"

Sunghoon looked up. "I'm relaxed right now."

You snorted.

"You don't think I'm relaxed?" he asked, blinking.

"You're color-coding your highlighters."

He looked down at them. "That's just efficient."

"Sure it is."

You closed your laptop and folded your arms on the table. "Okay. Tell me something real."

He blinked. "Real?"

"No school talk. No flashcards. No flirting rules. Just something about you."

Sunghoon hesitated.

Then, quietly: "I wanted to be a musician when I was a kid."

You sat up straighter.

"You play?"

"I used to. Violin. Piano. My mom taught music."

You blinked. "What happened?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't exceptional."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't have kept going."

He looked down. "My dad thought it was a waste of time." You went quiet.

"I still play sometimes," he added after a moment. "Late at night. When no one's around." You stared at him. And for a second, the room felt smaller. Softer. More like a secret than a library.

--

Jake showed up twenty minutes later, plopping into the chair beside you with the elegance of a raccoon in a recycling bin.

"Okay, listen." Sunghoon jumped. You didn't.

Jake never knocked. "I need you both to tell me the truth," he said, slamming down a bag of popcorn and two iced coffees. "What do I wear to a film screening where I might accidentally run into two people I ghosted and one I'm still in love with?" You blinked. "What?" Jake ignored you. "Option A: leather jacket, statement rings, denial. Option B: 'I'm over it' sweater and clean Converse. Option C—"

"Therapy," Sunghoon said under his breath.

You choked on your coffee.

Jake glared. "Excuse me, Park Shakespeare."

"I'm just saying," Sunghoon said softly. "Maybe talk to them?"

Jake groaned. "God, why is the shyest person I know the one telling me to communicate."

You laughed so hard your ribs hurt.

Jake sank into his seat. "Anyway, it's not just about clothes. It's about power."

You blinked. "I thought you were going for closure."

"I'm going for dominance." He leaned over dramatically. "Besides, the one I'm in love with doesn't even know it. So it's fine."

You and Sunghoon both stared at him.

"...What?"

Jake popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "I said what I said." Then he got up and left like a smoke bomb — chaotic and unresolved.

You and Sunghoon sat in stunned silence.

"...Is he okay?" Sunghoon asked finally.

"No," you said. "But he's thriving."

--

Later, as the sun started sinking behind the buildings and casting golden slants across the table, your energy began to slip. Your fingers slowed. Your notes blurred. Sunghoon noticed.

"You're tired."

You rubbed your temple. "I pulled a near-all-nighter editing my media analysis." He reached over and pushed your water bottle toward you gently.

"Drink."

You blinked.

"Hydration prevents cognitive fatigue."

You stared at him. "You know that sounds like a medical drama line, right?" He smiled — just a little. "You listen better when I speak clinically." You drank the water. And tried not to notice how he was watching you. Again. Always.

---

By the time you packed up, the library was nearly empty. Sunghoon walked you out without saying anything. The hallway lights flickered softly, old wiring buzzing in the ceiling. You stopped at the entrance.

"So..." you said, fiddling with your bag strap. "Thanks. For the brownie support." He blinked. "You bought me the brownie." "Still counts."

He looked like he wanted to say something else. Something more. But then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. Froze.

"...Everything okay?" you asked. He hesitated. "My dad's in town." You blinked. "Oh." "He wants to meet. Dinner." You didn't know what to say to that. So you said: "Do you want to?" Sunghoon didn't answer right away. Then, softly: "Not really." Your heart ached a little. He shoved his phone back into his pocket like it was something venomous. Then met your eyes. "I'm glad I saw you today." You blinked. He didn't smile when he said it. He just meant it. And somehow, that hit harder.

_______

SUNGHOON'S POV

The restaurant was expensive.Not fancy — just old money. Quiet leather booths. Waiters who didn't write things down. Men in suits that didn't wrinkle when they moved. Sunghoon sat across from his father and counted the folds in his napkin to keep from biting his tongue. "How are your grades?" his father asked, cutting into his steak with a surgeon's precision. Sunghoon kept his voice even. "Top three percent." "Good. That's expected." He nodded. Didn't say thank you. It wouldn't have been received anyway. His father sipped his wine. "Any leadership positions this semester?" "I'm part of the AI ethics club." "That's not leadership." "I've been nominated for student rep. Elections are next month." "That's better." Silence. Sunghoon looked out the window. Thought about the square last weekend. The signs. The shouting. The way your fingers had brushed his when you handed him that marker. "You seeing anyone?" his father asked abruptly. Sunghoon's jaw clenched. His father never asked about dating. Never asked about anything soft. "I'm... working on a project. With someone." "A girl?"

Sunghoon nodded, slowly. "She's—smart." He waited. But his father didn't respond. Just went back to cutting his steak. Neat, silent, clean. Like he didn't care. Like none of it mattered. Sunghoon stared at his plate and thought: She makes me laugh. She makes me feel seen. I wish you knew what that felt like.

--

That night, you couldn't sleep. Your dorm was quiet. The window open just a little, letting the breeze sneak across your sheets. You lay awake staring at the ceiling, wondering why the world felt so heavy all of a sudden. Your phone buzzed once.

Jake: hey. want to hear something stupid.

You replied instantly:

you: always.

He didn't reply right away.

When he did, it wasn't a message.

It was a voicemail.

You stared at the screen for a full minute before pressing play.

Jake's voice, soft and half-laughing, came through the speaker:

"I think I'm still in love with someone who doesn't even remember what we had. And I think I ruin things just to prove I was right about them leaving."

"Anyway. Sorry. You probably don't want to hear this."

"But you're the only person who makes me feel like I'm not faking everything."

"Goodnight."

You didn't reply. You just stared at your phone until the screen went dark.

--

SUNGHOON'S POV

He didn't mean to text you. But he did.

[nobodyaskeu]: are you awake?

You replied in thirty seconds.

[you]: yeah. you okay?

There was a pause.

Then:

[nobodyaskeu]: can I call you?

You stared at the screen.

Then said:

[you]: yes.

Your phone rang.

You answered.

For the first few seconds, neither of you said anything.

Then he spoke. "I hate how quiet it is after I see him." You knew what he meant. "Did it go badly?" you asked. "No. That's the worst part. It just... never changes." You didn't know how to fix that. But you said, "I'm here."

And he went quiet. But he didn't hang up. You stayed on the line. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. Eventually, you both stopped speaking altogether. You just... breathed. Together. In the dark. And somehow, that mattered more than any words.

___________

Yunjin was the one who suggested it. "Group dinner," she announced, bursting through your door with a tote bag full of frozen pasta, red wine in a travel mug, and a look that dared you to say no. "I'm tired of everyone spiraling in isolation. Tonight we spiral in sync." Jake immediately texted "do I need to wear pants?" followed by "jk unless?"

Eunchae offered her dorm's common room because her suitemates were out.

Sunghoon didn't say anything, just replied "ok" within thirty seconds of you asking.

You all met at seven. By seven-thirty, the pasta was boiling, the garlic bread was in the oven, and Jake had turned on a jazz playlist from Spotify titled "chill dinner party vibes but make it bisexual." Yunjin was stirring sauce like it owed her money.

Eunchae was setting out mismatched mugs because "aesthetics are a scam."

Sunghoon stood at the counter slicing cucumbers for a salad he never volunteered to make, sleeves rolled up, knife moving with quiet precision. You were next to him, elbow-to-elbow. Not on purpose. Not not on purpose. "I didn't know you could cook," you said, watching him slice. "I can't," he replied. "But I can follow instructions. Same thing." You smiled. "You're doing great." He glanced sideways. "You always say that." "Maybe I always mean it." He paused, but didn't reply. Instead, he handed you a cucumber slice. You popped it into your mouth and nodded. "Perfectly edible." "I'll take that as a win."

--

Dinner was chaotic in the way good things often are. You all sat cross-legged around Eunchae's coffee table, mismatched bowls balanced in laps, candle flickering in the center like it was the only thing holding the room together. Jake raised a toast with his mug of Sprite. "To protest signs, poor decisions, and the fact that none of us dropped out this week." You all clinked mugs. The first ten minutes were all chewing and fake insults. Then — slowly — real conversation slipped in.

Eunchae was the first. "My brother got into that tech bootcamp in Singapore," she said, stabbing her penne. "I'm proud of him. But also... now my parents are like, 'What's your plan? What are you building?'" You blinked. "You're building your own web comic from scratch." "Yeah, but that's not an app. It doesn't 'scale.'" Yunjin sighed. "God, I hate when success only counts if it fits into a startup pitch." Jake pointed his fork. "Capitalism has entered the group chat." You laughed. Sunghoon looked down at his plate. Then said, carefully, "My dad asked if I was wasting time." The room quieted.

You looked up. Sunghoon wasn't looking at anyone. He spoke like the words weren't meant for the air, just for the silence to hear. "He asked if I was doing anything that actually mattered. Or if I was just... filling my schedule to look impressive."

Eunchae whispered, "Damn." Jake reached over and squeezed Sunghoon's wrist. No jokes. No flair. Just warmth. Sunghoon smiled — just barely. Yunjin blew on her pasta. "You are doing things that matter." "You're showing up," you added. "You showed up for the protest. For the project. For us." Sunghoon met your eyes. Quietly, he said, "You make it easier to show up." No one spoke. Jake wiped a fake tear. "If I start crying I'm blaming the sauce." You threw a napkin at him.

--

Later, after plates were cleared and someone passed around a half-eaten tub of ice cream like a peace offering, the conversation turned to Jake. Yunjin was first. "So," she said, licking a spoon. "Film girl showed up." Jake sighed. "Of course you know." "You texted me at midnight saying 'her hair still smells like vanilla death.'" "That could've meant anyone."

Eunchae blinked. "How many people have you dated who smell like desserts?" Jake groaned and covered his face. "It doesn't matter. She's not even— I don't know. She didn't talk to me. She didn't not talk to me. She was just there. Looking like closure I haven't earned yet." Silence. Then you said, "Did you want her to talk to you?" Jake shrugged. "I don't know. I think I just wanted her to see me. Really see me. Not the version she edited out when she left." Yunjin passed him the ice cream. "You're worth seeing, Jake." He looked up. Eyes watery. "That's so gay." She smiled. "And true."

--

The room softened after that. Not with sadness, but with understanding.

Eunchae started talking about her comic again — her plans to enter a contest next month, how she wanted to draw rage without turning it ugly. Yunjin confessed that she was thinking of switching minors, even if it meant an extra semester.

Jake asked if it was wrong to be terrified of being vulnerable and being alone. You told him it wasn't. Sunghoon didn't talk much after that. But he stayed. He stayed when the playlist ended. He stayed when the lights dimmed. He stayed even when it was quiet again.

And when you walked him to the door, he looked at you like he was trying to remember the exact words to something he hadn't said yet. "I..." he started. "I like this." You tilted your head. "This?" He gestured vaguely — the hallway, the fading voices behind you. "People. Talking. Not pretending." You smiled. "Me too." Then you hesitated. And said, softly, "You make it easier too, you know."

His eyes flickered. You didn't touch. You didn't kiss. You just stood there — two people slowly turning toward each other, step by step, word by word. And it was enough. For now.

__________

The thing about academic limbo is that it doesn't announce itself. It creeps in like late-stage winter — not cold enough to warrant panic, not warm enough to feel like progress.

You're not drowning. You're treading water with a fake smile. And everyone around you is doing the same. Campus looked like it always did on Monday: students hunched over laptops in beanbags, political posters taped to benches, the occasional club trying to hand you a flier you'd pretend to read. But something in the air had shifted since the protest last week — a thin tension that clung to every hallway. Sunghoon noticed it too. You saw it in the way he lingered outside the library before walking in, how he watched people longer now, how his responses were a second too delayed, like his mind was always two exits ahead. You were starting to realize that Sunghoon didn't know how to be seen unless he was performing excellence.

And lately, your presence kept catching him mid-rehearsal.

--

He passed you a sticky note in class. It said: "Library after 4? We should prep that demo for the final week." You scribbled back: "Is this a flirting strategy? Because it's working." His ears flushed, and he didn't write again. But he smiled. Just barely.

--

You found him in your usual study corner at 4:10, back straight, laptop open, but the document untouched. He was staring out the window, expression unreadable. "Hey," you said, settling beside him. "You waiting on divine inspiration or...?"

"Just thinking," he said. "Do you ever wonder if we're learning how to argue more than we're learning how to listen?" You blinked. "That's either the most profound thing you've ever said, or you're avoiding the PowerPoint." He didn't laugh. He just looked at you — really looked. Quietly. Curiously. So you said nothing more. And opened your laptop. The silence between you wasn't awkward anymore. It just was. Somehow, that felt like progress.

--

Half an hour in, your phones started buzzing at the same time.

Jake:

"Group chat. Emergency. We've been ambushed."

Yunjin:

"Come to the quad. It's the elections. Jay just dropped the teaser."

You exchanged glances with Sunghoon.

He sighed. "Do I want to know?"

"I think we're about to find out."

--

The quad was chaos. Jay had somehow printed glossy posters overnight with slogans like: "Reclaim Your Voice — Vote for Real Transparency."

"Power to the People — Not the PR Machine."

He wasn't running. But he was managing the campaign of someone who was. And it was someone you recognized. Mina Baek. Third-year. Former debate champion. Once suspended for publicly calling out the Dean during a live forum. Now grinning under Jay's arm like a rebranded revolutionary. You found Jake and Yunjin near the fountain. "Jay's trying to own the election," Yunjin said. "He's pushing 'reform' with the same hand that silences us."

Jake nodded grimly. "He's turning protest energy into performance again." Sunghoon stared at the posters. "It's smart." Everyone turned to him. "I mean," he continued carefully, "he's reframing anger into something palatable. He's taking the noise and giving it a soundtrack. That's... effective." You crossed your arms. "That doesn't make it right." "I didn't say it was." You watched him then — the way his fingers tapped against his thigh, the slight furrow in his brow, the way he calculated even as he listened.

Sunghoon wasn't just smart. He was dangerous when he decided to care. And maybe that scared even him. Later that night, you found yourself texting him. you're a terrifyingly good strategist, you know that? He replied six minutes later. i don't know how to be anything else.

--

Meanwhile, Jake had his own drama brewing. You found him editing sound for his new short film at the media center. "Scene six is ruined," he muttered. "Her mic cut out. And I can't re-record her because she ghosted me again." You sat beside him, passing him a can of coffee.

"You know you don't have to fix people who vanish." "I know," he sighed. "But I keep wondering if I'm just bad at staying. You looked at him. "You're great at staying. You've stayed for all of us." Jake smiled without teeth. "Except myself."

--

In the background of it all, Eunchae's comic was going viral on student boards. One strip in particular — two characters arguing in a lecture hall about who gets to define justice — was being shared with hashtags like #DebateMeIRL and #OurVoicesMatter. She hadn't expected it. Now everyone wanted an interview. A feature. A panel. "Why do they care now?" she asked, breathless, curling into the couch beside you in the common room. "When I was writing in the corner of the cafeteria no one even looked twice." "Because now they think they can use your voice to echo their own," you said gently. "It's not about seeing you. It's about reflecting themselves." Eunchae blinked. "Shit. That's so real. I hate it." "Then keep drawing the truth."

--

And then, at the end of the week — the almost happened. You and Sunghoon were leaving the library late after reviewing a revised draft of your presentation. The air was cool, campus half-lit, your steps echoing quietly in sync. "Wait," you said, pausing under the courtyard lamp. "Your shoelace." He looked down. "Oh." He crouched to fix it, and when he stood up again — you were close. Too close. Neither of you moved. Your breath caught. So did his. And for one second, you thought— He looked away. "Goodnight," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Goodnight, Sunghoon." He walked off into the dark. And you stood there. Not kissed. Not touched. But somehow, still completely undone.

__________

You weren't surprised when Jake didn't show up for the first group meeting that weekend. You were surprised when he didn't even text. By Sunday night, the group chat was full of check-ins, emojis, increasingly dramatic threats from Eunchae ("if you're dead I'm resurrecting you just to slap you") and one unpunctuated message from Yunjin: checked his location. he's at the editing lab. he hasn't left since yesterday.

Sunghoon looked up from his spot on the rug, where he'd been reorganizing your flashcards. "Should we go?"

You didn't answer right away. You stared at your phone for another second, then grabbed your hoodie and said, "Yeah. Let's go."

--

The editing lab was on the second floor of the media building — always cold, always humming. You pushed the door open softly, greeted by the glow of blue light and looping audio. Jake was there. Sitting cross-legged in front of his monitor, wearing the same hoodie from two days ago, hair a mess, dark circles visible even in the LCD flicker. He didn't turn when you walked in. Sunghoon stayed by the door. You moved closer.

"Hey," you said gently. Jake kept clicking. "I just need to get the pacing right for scene eight," he mumbled. "It drags. The silence after her line, it's too long. It sounds desperate." You sat beside him on the floor. "It's okay to be desperate sometimes." Jake blinked. His hand dropped from the mouse. "I'm not," he said. "I just... didn't want to let her ruin it."

"Her?" Sunghoon asked from behind. Jake laughed bitterly. "The girl I wrote it for. The one who said it 'wasn't deep enough' to be about her. She said she wanted something honest, and when I showed her the script, she said it felt calculated." You winced. "Yikes."

"I don't know how to not calculate," Jake muttered. "I grew up learning how to read people. I thought that was what made a good storyteller. But now I think I just... reflect whatever someone wants to see." You said nothing. Neither did Sunghoon. Not because you didn't care. But because you knew. Knew what it felt like to curate yourself so well you forgot what was real. Knew what it meant to fear your own silence. Knew what it cost to perform truth when no one really wanted it. Eventually, Jake exhaled.

"I think I need a nap." You smiled softly. "I think you need a hug." Jake leaned sideways into you like a deflated balloon. You caught him without hesitation. His forehead thudded against your shoulder. Sunghoon watched. Quietly. Then stepped forward, awkwardly crouched, and reached out to gently pat Jake's shoulder. The motion was stiff, but the intention was there. Jake blinked up at him. "Thanks, bro." Sunghoon cleared his throat. "I, um. I admire your... structure." Jake blinked again. You burst out laughing.

--

Later, the three of you sat outside on the steps, sharing a vending machine coffee like it was sacred. Jake was half-asleep on your left shoulder. Sunghoon sat stiffly on your right.

"I don't know what I'm doing," you admitted. "With what?" Sunghoon asked. "With any of this. The protest stuff. Our project. My entire thesis. It's all starting to feel like a stunt." Sunghoon looked down at his hands. "I think stunts matter more than we admit." You frowned. "How so?" He glanced up, eyes unreadable. "If you make someone pause — even for five seconds — maybe that's enough to change something. Doesn't have to be big. Just... one person seeing something differently." You were quiet. Then: "Who changed yours?" Sunghoon paused. Then he said, "You." And before you could ask what he meant — Jake snored. You both looked over. Jake had passed out fully, cheek smushed against your hoodie, arms crossed like a disgruntled toddler. Sunghoon smiled. You watched him smile. And something tightened in your throat. Almost.

--

The next day, Eunchae pulled you aside. "I'm being harassed," she whispered dramatically, sliding into the booth beside you in the dining hall. "By?" "Jay." You blinked. "Explain." "He wants to commission me for a custom piece to advertise the student debates. Says it's a 'creative call to civic duty.' I say it's propaganda with a paintbrush." You grinned. "What did you say?" "I told him I don't work with tyrants unless they pay in boba." You laughed. She leaned closer. "But also... what if I do it?" You paused. "Do you want to?" "I want the exposure. And the platform. But I don't want him to twist my work into his narrative." You nodded slowly. "Then ask to publish a written artist's note with the final piece. He'll think it's harmless. But you can use it to control the context." Eunchae stared at you. "You're evil." "No. I'm learning."

--

Meanwhile, Yunjin had taken up unofficial security duties. You found her walking the quad with a clipboard and a mean expression. "Why do you look like you're about to fight the Student Council president?" She narrowed her eyes. "Because I am." You blinked. "They're threatening to cut funding for independent campus publications. Says we're 'radicalizing the freshmen.'" You sighed. "So what's the plan?" "Public exposure. A timeline of every time they've silenced minority voices, fact-checked with receipts, signed off with student testimonies." You whistled low. "Remind me never to get on your bad side." Yunjin smirked. "Too late. You're already on my petty side."

--

Back in class, you and Sunghoon were starting to feel... different. Not in a sudden, obvious way. But in the way his eyes found yours quicker. In the way your jokes didn't fluster him as much. In the way he didn't pull away when your elbows touched during note reviews. Something was shifting. You didn't name it. He didn't explain it. But it was there. And for now, that was enough.

_______

The campus was buzzing again — not in the messy aftermath of protests or the adrenaline of student uprisings, but in something more dangerous: Campaign fever. Jay had set the clock ticking. Voting day was two weeks out, and somehow, every bulletin board, hallway, coffee cup, and group chat had been plastered with sleek neon ads. Campaign videos were streaming on every student media screen — featuring Mina Baek mid-speech, framed like a heroine. Jay's voice narrating in poetic cadence. Carefully edited protest footage rebranded as campaign rallies.

You stared up at one in the common area. It showed a pan to the protest leaders from last month.

Including you.

Your face frozen mid-yell, eyes fierce, holding a sign someone else made.

"I didn't approve this," you muttered.

Yunjin appeared at your side, arms folded. "None of us did."

"They're using the movement as a launchpad." She glanced at the screen. "They always do."

"Then what are we going to do?" Yunjin was quiet for a moment. Then:

"Nothing. Not yet. Let them overplay their hand."

You turned to her.

She didn't blink.

You suddenly remembered she was the same girl who'd once filed an anonymous 13-page complaint against the journalism department for burying sexual harassment claims — with redacted footnotes and hyperlinks. She never rushed. She watched. And waited to strike.

--

Meanwhile, Jake had recovered. Too much, maybe. He burst into your apartment kitchen that night with a new script idea, an untouched sandwich, and a deep desire to be loved. "It's about media weaponization and silent whistleblowers," he said, "but in the form of a silent film."

Sunghoon — sitting on the couch awkwardly nursing a mug of tea — tilted his head. "How would anyone know it's about whistleblowers if no one speaks?" Jake grinned. "That's the point." You raised an eyebrow. "Are we the target audience?" "No," he said. "But you will be the cast." You gave him a look. Sunghoon tried not to smile.

--

Later, you sat with Sunghoon while Jake raided your fridge. The quiet returned — but this time, it was different. Easier. Warmer.

Your leg brushed his. Neither of you moved. You took a breath. He took one too. And then—

Your phone buzzed.

Jay 🙄: Meet me at the old media stairwell. Alone. 15 min.

You frowned.

Sunghoon glanced over. "Everything okay?"

"Jay wants to meet."

Sunghoon straightened. "Now?"

"Yeah. I think I'll go."

"I'll come with—"

"He said alone."

A pause. Then, quietly, Sunghoon said: "Text me after." You nodded. But as you stood, he reached out — and tugged your sleeve. You turned. "I'm serious," he said, voice low. "Don't trust him. Not completely." You searched his eyes. "I don't," you said. And left.

--

The media stairwell was barely lit. You found Jay leaning against the railing, jacket unzipped, chewing on a toothpick like he'd just walked out of a noir film and into your college drama.

"Thanks for coming," he said smoothly.

"Cut to the chase."

He chuckled. "Still direct. I like that."

You crossed your arms. "What do you want?"

"I'm offering you a column."

You blinked. He continued: "In the Tribune. A weekly space. No oversight. Total freedom. Your name front and center. Full credit."

You stared. "Why?"

"Because people listen to you. And Mina needs that. Your voice — authentic, sharp, raw — it's what this campaign needs to close the trust gap. You'd be the bridge." "No," you said flatly.

Jay tilted his head. "You haven't even thought about it."

"I don't need to."

"Don't you want change?"

"Not your kind of change."

He stepped forward, voice lower. "This is bigger than your pride."

"No," you said again, quieter this time. "This is because of it." Jay's expression didn't change. But his eyes flickered — something like calculation, maybe approval. "You're harder to buy than I thought." You didn't answer. But your silence said everything.

--

You came back to your apartment 40 minutes later. Sunghoon was still there, alone on the couch, fiddling with one of Jake's stress cubes. He looked up immediately. You didn't say anything at first. Just threw yourself down beside him with a groan.

"Well?" he asked, softly.

You turned to him. "He tried to recruit me."

Sunghoon blinked. "And?"

"I said no."

He exhaled — not relief exactly, but something adjacent.

You sat in silence.

Then he said, "I'm glad."

You looked over. He wasn't smiling. But he looked at you like something important had just shifted. Like you'd passed a test he didn't realize he was giving you. You blinked. "Why?" "Because you're not him," he said. "And... I think sometimes I forget that." You said nothing.

But your heart — traitorous, sensitive — thudded a little harder.

--

The next day in class, something rare happened.

Sunghoon challenged a professor. It was subtle — a disagreement about the framing of dissent in civil law theory — but you watched him sit straighter, speak slower, eyes sharp and calm. And the professor — a man notorious for talking over students — actually listened. The class went quiet. Afterwards, you nudged his arm as you packed up.

"What was that?" you teased.

He looked confused. "What?"

"You. Standing up. Speaking. You went full vampire lawyer mode."

He blinked. You grinned. "I'm proud of you." He flushed. "Don't say it like that." "Like what?" "Like it's... special." "It is. You're special."

Silence. Then—

He turned. And smiled. Not the half-smile. Not the polite one. But a real one. Teeth and all. And yeah — his canines? Sharp. You filed that away for later.

_________

Friday arrived with a headache. Not yours — Jake's.

"I think my brain's melting," he groaned into the throw pillow on your couch, blanket over his head like a corpse in a student film. "I've seen scene 12 so many times I'm starting to hear her line in my sleep."

You sat beside him, cross-legged, sipping coffee. "What line?" Jake peeked from under the blanket and mimicked in a broken falsetto: "Why didn't you run? You could've left me."

Then, in his normal voice: "She says it right after the betrayal, but I can't tell if it lands." Sunghoon — who was perched stiffly on the floor next to the coffee table, flipping through a journal — looked up and said, "It does."

Jake blinked. "You've seen it?"

"You showed it to me yesterday. On the projector."

Jake tilted his head. "Wait... did you stay the whole time?"

Sunghoon nodded, hesitant. "You didn't notice?"

Jake sat up like a cartoon character. "Dude. I thought you left when I went to get snacks."

"I didn't want to interrupt," Sunghoon said, adjusting his sleeves. "It felt... private."

Jake stared. You stared. Then Jake looked at you, wide-eyed. "He's actually turning human." You grinned. "Let's not jinx it." Sunghoon frowned. "I've always been—" Jake dramatically tossed the pillow at him. "Silence, vampire."

--

By afternoon, the apartment was chaotic. Eunchae was running late. Yunjin was texting you updates from campus. Jake was pacing around with a highlighter tucked behind his ear, half a rice cake in one hand, his laptop open to the tech sheet for his short film debut tomorrow.

"We need to finalize the promo caption!" he shouted from the kitchen.

"I thought it was 'Silence is the loudest scream,'" you called back.

"I'm workshopping that," he said. "What about: Sometimes, what's left unsaid is the real confession?" Sunghoon, still curled into your beanbag chair with your dog-eared law journal, muttered, "Too long."

Jake reappeared in the doorway. "You're right."

He looked possessed. "What if we just call it Mute. One word. Bold. Stark. Cinematic."

Eunchae entered at that exact moment, sunglasses on indoors, iced coffee in each hand. "Are we naming a movie or a designer perfume?"

"Both," Jake said. "Preferably."

She dropped the coffees on the table. "You all look like you haven't slept in 48 hours."

"We haven't," you and Jake chorused.

Sunghoon looked up. "I slept."

Eunchae rolled her eyes. "Of course you did. That's why your skin is glowing and the rest of us look like sad pottery."

---

That evening, the plan was simple: everyone would crash at your place for a final prep night. Except nothing was ever simple. Eunchae got a call from Jay asking to confirm her presence at Mina's upcoming art fundraiser. "He's buttering me up with sweet words and false promises," she said. "Like a man with a mixtape and no talent."

Yunjin stormed in an hour later with two USB drives and fury in her voice. "The university is changing the campus paper's layout to give more space to student council ads. They're squeezing our entire front-page op-ed into the corner like an obituary."

Jake offered her a cookie. She took it and sulked dramatically on your floor. Sunghoon passed her his highlighter wordlessly. She blinked. "Thanks."

He nodded once. You watched that. Then, without even thinking, turned away with a small smile. Almost.

---

Dinner was chaotic. You cooked noodles. Jake made a weird attempt at fusion ramen. Eunchae spilled chili oil on the floor. Yunjin set off your fire alarm while trying to toast garlic. Sunghoon... quietly set the table.

No one asked him to. He just did it. Water glasses, napkins, forks aligned, bowls spaced evenly. When he finished, he stood there awkwardly, unsure where to go next. You noticed. You tugged on his sleeve. "Sit next to me."

He blinked. "Okay." He sat. Close. A little too close. Your knees brushed under the table, but neither of you moved.

Eunchae noticed. She said nothing. But you caught the little smirk she gave Yunjin.

--

Later that night, everyone was stuffed and half-sleepy from food coma and burnout. You threw on a documentary for background noise. Jake claimed your beanbag. Yunjin was sprawled on the couch. Eunchae had her head in your lap, already dozing.

Sunghoon hovered awkwardly until you pointed at the floor space beside you. He sat — legs crossed, fingers twitching, trying to find a position that felt natural.

Then, slowly, very slowly, he leaned his head back and rested it against the couch — just next to your thigh. It was nothing. And somehow, it was everything. You didn't say a word. You just stayed still. Almost.

--

At midnight, everyone left except Sunghoon. He helped clean up without being asked. Wiped counters. Dried dishes. Moved slowly, carefully. Like if he did it quietly enough, you might not notice he hadn't said goodbye. You leaned against the sink, arms crossed.

"So..."

He turned. "Yeah?"

You paused. The air felt... heavier. Not thick with tension. Just charged. Like both of you were waiting for something that never quite arrived.

"You're staying?" you asked softly.

He blinked. "Do you want me to?"

You didn't answer right away.

Then: "Yeah."

He looked down. "Okay."

And that was it. You watched him fold your dishrag like it mattered. You watched his fingers tremble just a little. You noticed the slope of his neck, the arch of his back under his sweater, the way his jaw clenched when you said nothing. You stepped closer.

He didn't move. Just stood there, hands still, breathing shallow. And you? You almost said something. But you didn't. Because this wasn't that moment. Not yet.

--

The next morning, you woke up on the couch. Sunghoon was in the armchair, asleep, curled under your favorite blanket, headphones still around his neck, Jake's script open in his lap. The sun lit the room softly. Quietly.

And as you sat up, rubbed your eyes, and looked at him — really looked at him — you felt something flicker in your chest. Not lightning. Not fireworks. Just... warmth. Almost love. But not yet.

__________

There's a moment just before the start of something — a hush, a pause, like the air's holding its breath. You felt it all week. Not dramatic. Not romantic. But persistent. Like a shift in gravity every time Park Sunghoon stood too close. The almosts were turning sharper. The air around him heavier. His silences weren't nervous anymore — they were loaded. But no one said anything. Especially not you. Especially not him. Not yet.

--

The week began with the screening.

Jake's film Mute played in the dimmed lecture hall to a packed student crowd, glitchy lights, and even glitchier audio — Eunchae's laptop had crashed twice during setup, and Jake had screamed into a paper cup about creative sabotage. Still, the film played. The room went quiet. And for eleven minutes, everyone watched in silence as Jake's story unfolded in grayscale: a whistleblower, a silent confession, a girl screaming with no sound. When it ended, people clapped. Slowly at first, then louder. Jake didn't move. He looked frozen. His fingers shook. You squeezed his hand without saying a word. Then Sunghoon — standing beside him, unnoticed until now — leaned down and said something so quiet, only Jake heard it. Jake turned to him. Then burst out laughing. He hugged Sunghoon. "You're insane." You blinked. "What did he say?"

Jake grinned, eyes wet. "He said, 'if this flopped I was ready to lie for you.'"

You turned to Sunghoon. He didn't deny it. He just looked at you and said, "I'm loyal." A pause. Then, lower — just for you: "To the people who matter." Your breath caught. But you said nothing. Because that? That was bold. And it was only Monday.

--

Wednesday night, you and Sunghoon found yourselves stuck in the law library after closing — Jake had stolen your apartment keys to clean up glitter from Eunchae's campaign collages, and Yunjin was out cold from pulling two all-nighters. So you sat across from each other at the study tables, surrounded by stacks of books, untouched highlighters, and the warm buzz of dim reading lamps.

You'd been working on your notes for an upcoming moot trial. He'd been reviewing past case transcripts, occasionally glancing over at your scribbles. At some point, you kicked off your shoes. Your socked foot nudged his knee. You didn't even realize. He didn't move. Ten minutes later, you felt the lightest pressure against your ankle. A nudge. Careful. Barely there. You looked up. He didn't flinch. Just raised his brows slightly. Then went back to reading. You swallowed. That was new. You tried to focus again — really, you did. But then he reached across the table to slide one of your sticky notes closer to him, and his fingers brushed yours.

You looked at him sharply. He met your eyes for just a second too long. You blinked. He turned away, like nothing happened. You almost cursed out loud.

--

That Friday, you caught a cold. Which meant: headache, runny nose, no voice, and a complete inability to function. Jake brought soup. Eunchae brought gossip. Yunjin brought lecture notes. But it was Sunghoon who stayed. Not the whole day. But long enough. He knocked once, entered softly, and set down a bag with tissue packets, a ginger shot, and — inexplicably — a lemon tart.

"You like citrus," he said.

You blinked at him from under three blankets. "How did you know?"

He flushed. "You always eat around the orange Skittles, but keep the lemon ones."

You stared.

"Also, you order lemon tea. Like. Every time."

You opened your mouth. Then closed it again. Sunghoon looked down. Then added, quietly: "I pay attention." You didn't say anything. Not because you didn't want to — but because your heart was in your throat. And your nose was too stuffed to speak anyway.

--

That night, your fever finally broke. You woke up sweaty, confused, and reached for your water. The glass was full. You blinked. Then turned your head. Sunghoon was asleep on your couch. Still in his jacket. One arm over his eyes. Your cat curled on his chest like it was normal. You swallowed. And then noticed your charger plugged in. Your notes stacked. A tiny lemon candy by your pillow.

Oh.

So this is how you fall for someone. Not with fireworks. Not even with words. But with lemon candies. And sharp glances. And feet under the table. Almost.

--

Saturday. You were mostly better — not perfect, but not dying — and Sunghoon was still hovering. Quietly. Efficiently. Jake cornered you in the hallway. "He likes you," he said bluntly. You choked on your tea. "What?" "He. Likes. You." You blinked. "No he doesn't." "He does," Jake insisted. "He's getting bolder. In his weird, stupid way. Like when he said 'I'm loyal'? Are you kidding me? That's foreplay. That's his foreplay." You flushed. "He's just being nice." Jake pointed at you dramatically. "That man has memorized your Skittle preferences and brought you a lemon tart unprompted. If this was fanfiction, you'd be pregnant." "SIM JAEYUN." "I'm just saying," he shrugged. "If he starts talking about your voice or touching your wrist when you pass the pen, I'm calling it." You shoved him. "Go bother Eunchae."

--

That evening, Sunghoon texted you.

rizzlord 69: do you want to study?

rizzlord 69: or just sit in the same room and pretend we're being productive

You smiled.

And replied:

YOU: i'll bring snacks. but if you touch my notes again i'm filing a restraining order.

A pause.

Then:

rizzlord 69: you'd like that

You blinked.

YOU: what does that mean

rizzlord 69: idk

rizzlord 69: sounded kind of hot in my head

rizzlord 69: i'm deleting this

Your heart stopped. Then pounded. You stared at your screen. Then texted back:

YOU: i'm keeping the screenshots for evidence

rizzlord 69: criminal

YOU: proud

---

You didn't know it yet. But that message? That was the beginning. The first time he flirted — really flirted. Not by accident. Not by silence. But on purpose. It wasn't much. But it was a crack in the door. And the boldness? It was coming. Just very, very slowly.

_________

You'd expected the study session to be awkward. It wasn't. It was worse — it was dangerous. Because sitting across from Park Sunghoon while pretending to revise legal frameworks was starting to feel like Russian roulette with your self-control. Not because of anything obvious. No. Because of how he was looking at you. Not constantly. Not dramatically. Just... deliberately. Like he was actually seeing you, and not trying to hide that fact anymore.

--

He came over with snacks this time. Grapes, of all things. You'd blinked at them and said, "What are we, Victorian children?" He said, "You eat slower when you're focused. Grapes are quiet." You stared. He shrugged, calm, folding his long limbs onto the couch beside you. That was bold. And the thing was — he didn't even seem nervous anymore. Just quiet. Collected. Like he'd figured something out and wasn't telling you yet.

---

Two hours in, it got worse. You were explaining how a counter-argument worked for your mock debate — something about dual culpability in fraud cases — and you leaned forward, waving a pen in the air as you spoke. He watched your mouth. You didn't imagine it. His eyes tracked the way you said culpability like it was a promise. Your voice caught halfway through your sentence. "...so the whole point is that intent and—uh—execution—are—"

He raised an eyebrow. You snapped your mouth shut. He didn't say anything. But he smiled. Not big. Not soft. Just... slightly smug. Like he knew. And for a second, you wanted to kick him. Or kiss him. Same thing.

--

It didn't help that he'd changed clothes. Nothing dramatic — just a soft, black t-shirt and sweats, both slightly loose, but not baggy enough to hide much. His biceps looked unfair. Worse were the sleeves. Short enough to reveal his forearms, flexing lightly whenever he reached for your notes. He had nice hands. You'd noticed before. But now, it was like he wanted you to. And the worst part? You think he knew that too. You were lying on your stomach now, arms sprawled, face smooshed into your pillow. "I'm gonna die," you muttered.

Sunghoon flipped another page. "Of what?" "Academic heartbreak," you mumbled. "And your arms." He snorted. "You've got arms." "Yeah, but mine don't make people question their moral compass." He paused. You looked up. He was staring down at you. Calm. Measured. But something flickered behind his eyes. Then — slowly — he said, "What exactly do mine make you question?" Your breath stalled. You didn't look away. "Everything." He smiled — barely. "Good." You turned your face into the pillow. "Don't do that," he added softly. You blinked. "What?" "Hide your face." You turned slowly. He met your gaze. "I like it." Oh. Well. Okay.

--

You went quiet after that. And so did he. But the silence wasn't awkward anymore. It was thick. Heavy. A little fucked. A little... hot.

Later that evening, Yunjin dropped by to return a jacket you'd left at the media room. She stepped inside, took one look at the two of you on the couch — your legs tangled in the blanket, his hair slightly messy, you both pretending to be reading separate things — and blinked."Well," she said. "Looks like I should've knocked harder."

You sat up immediately. "It's not—" Sunghoon beat you to it. "We're studying." Yunjin smirked. "I bet." You threw a pillow at her. She caught it. Then turned to Sunghoon, eyes narrowing. "You corrupting our girl, Park?"

Sunghoon shrugged. "She started it." You froze. Yunjin raised an eyebrow. You looked at him — really looked at him — and saw it: the slight tilt of his head. The corner of his lip twitching. The almost-smile. He was teasing. In front of people. You wanted to die. Yunjin cackled. "God, you're both disasters. I'm leaving before this turns into a porno." You groaned. "Yunjin, please." "I said what I said." She winked at Sunghoon. "Good luck, loverboy." He just leaned back. Didn't deny it. You stared at him after she left. He looked back at you. And for a second — just one — he let his eyes drag from your lips to your throat and back up again.

Then he blinked. Gone. You said nothing. But you didn't breathe right for the next hour. By the time he left that night, you felt like you'd just survived an emotional marathon. He paused at the door. You stood next to him.

"Thanks for today," you said, voice quieter than you meant it to be. He looked at you. Said nothing. Then — slowly — lifted a hand and brushed your hair back behind your ear. Your heart stopped. "I'll see you tomorrow," he murmured. Then turned and walked out. You stood there for ten full seconds. Then collapsed on your bed and screamed into your pillow. Because that man just tucked your hair behind your ear like it was a sex scene. You were not okay. And neither was your heart.

_______

By Sunday afternoon, it became a matter of personal pride. Park Sunghoon had been flustering you all week — casually, sneakily, like it wasn't calculated — and your ego was taking psychic damage. So today? Today, you'd fight back. With intention. Not desperation. You were going to fluster him. Properly. Cleanly. With poise. With dignity. And maybe with the tank top that fit you just a little too well. Strictly for scientific purposes.

--

He'd invited you to his place this time. Just to "study," of course — but Sunghoon didn't realize he'd accidentally created the perfect trap for himself.

His apartment was weirdly clean. Bookshelves full of law reviews and graphic novels. A few empty water bottles by his bed. A worn hoodie hanging on the back of a chair that definitely smelled like him. Your downfall was going to smell like laundry detergent and warm skin. He handed you a drink when you arrived. "Ginger ale."

"Why?"

"Because you like lemon. And ginger is lemon-adjacent."

You blinked. "That's not real logic." He smiled faintly. "It worked, didn't it?" You glared. He smirked. This was war.

--

The study session started predictably enough. You sat cross-legged on his bed with your laptop, surrounded by outlines and pens, while he leaned back against the headboard beside you, posture too casual for someone so dangerous.

For a while, you tried to focus. Really. But then his knee brushed yours under the blankets. And then again. And again. You turned to him. "Sunghoon." "Hm?"

"Stop touching me with your knee."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"It's accidental."

You narrowed your eyes. He didn't move. You raised your eyebrows. "You want to go?" He blinked. "Go where?" "Into battle."

He smiled — small. "I'm always ready."

Your heart stuttered. You turned back to your screen. Okay. Time to deploy the weapon.

--

Phase 1: The Tank Top Adjustment. You shifted your posture. Arms over your head. Stretching. The fabric rose. You caught the flicker in his eyes before he looked away. He cleared his throat. You almost grinned. "One–zero," you muttered. "What?"

"Nothing."

--

Phase 2: The Casual Touch.

You pointed something out in your notes and leaned in — just a bit closer than necessary — your shoulder brushing his chest. His breath hitched. You tilted your head. "You good?" He nodded. Too quickly. You bit your lip. Then, barely above a whisper: "You're blushing." He was. You saw it now — just a pink bloom along his cheekbones. Barely there. But real. His lips parted, like he wanted to deny it. He didn't. Instead, he met your gaze — steady, slow. "You're doing it on purpose," he murmured. Your heart skipped. "Doing what?" He didn't answer right away. Then, voice low: "Trying to ruin me." You blinked. Your mouth went dry. He tilted his head.

"You're good at it." You opened your mouth — nothing came out. He leaned in just slightly, voice brushing your skin like silk. "You think I haven't noticed how you talk to Jake when I'm around?" You froze.

His eyes dropped to your lips. "You think I don't see how you bite your pen when you're trying to piss me off?" Your breath caught. "I see everything," he whispered.

You swallowed. "I'm just letting you win," he added, "because you look cute when you think you're in control." Your jaw dropped. "Sunghoon—" He leaned back. Smiled. And blushed again. You stared. "What the hell," you muttered. He shrugged, very pink. "I'm learning."

--

You didn't speak for a full minute. He went back to reviewing a document like he hadn't just verbally set you on fire. You sat there. Stunned. Hot. Weirdly proud. Because that was flirting. From Park Sunghoon. And even if his ears were still red, he hadn't backed down.

--

Later that night, you both took a break to make popcorn. His kitchen was dim and quiet, lit only by the soft overhead light and the glow of the microwave. You leaned on the counter beside him. "So. You're bold now." He didn't look at you. "Sometimes." "You practice that line?" "No." "Liar." He glanced sideways. "Okay. Maybe a little." You smirked. "I knew it." "You inspired me." You blinked. He reached for the popcorn bowl. Then paused. "I like the way you look when you're trying to win," he said. You turned to face him. He met your eyes. You stepped closer. "Do I win?" He tilted his head. "You try very hard," he murmured. You grinned. "That's not a no." "It's not a yes either." "Coward."

He raised an eyebrow. "Careful."

"Or what?" He said nothing. Just popped a piece of popcorn into your mouth. You blinked.

"What—"

"Quiet," he said. "You talk too much." Your jaw dropped. He popped another one into his own mouth and smiled — pleased, a little smug. You didn't recover for the next ten minutes.

--

After that, the mood somehow softened. He handed you a hoodie — his — and you slipped it on without thinking. He watched. Didn't say anything. But he stared longer than necessary. You caught him. He didn't look away. Just said, "You look good in black." You tugged the sleeves down. "So do you." He didn't blink. "I like it better on you." You clutched the hem. He went back to his notes like he hadn't just killed you. By the time you were both back in bed, side by side with your laptops open and shoulders almost touching, you felt the room shift. Still quiet. Still warm. But charged. Like everything almost happened. But didn't. Like you could kiss him. But didn't. And he could kiss you. But wouldn't. Not yet. So instead, he said: "I think I like you more when you're not trying to fluster me." You blinked. "Why?" "You're already dangerous."

He paused. Then, without looking at you: "But you're kind. And you listen. And I think you'd break your own heart before you hurt someone else." You turned to him.

"Sunghoon..." His voice was low. "I just wanted you to know."

You looked down. Your heart swelled. And something inside you ached. Because you wanted to say something — something true. But the words stuck. So you reached for his hand.And he let you take it. No jokes. No smirks. Just silence. And warmth. And maybe, just maybe, love. Eventually.

_________

Sunghoon's POV 

You weren't doing it on purpose. That was the worst part. Sunghoon knew you were just talking — about culpability and counter-arguments and something about fraud law — but none of it mattered, because all he could hear was the way you said execution like it was something physical. He blinked. Tried to focus on the case study in front of him. His fingers twitched, tapping the corner of the paper like that would fix his brain. It didn't. You stretched. Arms over your head. Shirt lifting. Skin flashing just enough to make him forget the meaning of precedent. Sunghoon swallowed hard. Looked down. Felt his ears burn. You were going to kill him. And you didn't even know it. Or maybe you did. Because when you leaned closer, pretending to point at a paragraph, your shoulder brushed his chest — soft, warm, intentional.

He almost stopped breathing. You tilted your head. "You good?" He nodded.

Too fast. His body was so obvious. You'd noticed. He could feel you noticing. Which meant — game on.

He didn't know what changed. Maybe it was how comfortable he was with you now. Maybe it was how naturally you made yourself at home in his space. Maybe it was that little twitch of your mouth when you realized you'd made him blush. But something shifted. And he leaned into it.

"You're doing it on purpose," he murmured.

You blinked. "Doing what?" He let the silence sit. Watched the way your throat moved when you swallowed.

"Trying to ruin me." Your eyes went wide. And god — that look on your face. He wanted to laugh. Or kiss you. Same thing. So he kept going. Quiet, bold. "You think I haven't noticed how you talk to Jake when I'm around?" Your mouth parted. "You think I don't see how you bite your pen like you want me to fail a midterm on purpose?" Your hands curled into the blanket. "I see everything."

He let it hang there. Then added, soft: "I'm just letting you win." Your eyes darkened. His pulse spiked. And then he blushed again. Because you were so close and so pretty and still looking at him like that, and he knew he was playing a dangerous game, but god — you were worth every risk. He tried to play it cool. Tried to breathe. But when you turned your face to the side, hiding your expression in your sleeve — the tiniest flustered movement — his stomach did something awful and wonderful at the same time. Because that was when he realized something: He didn't want to win. Not really. He just wanted to see you like this. Comfortable. Glowing. Alive. And if that meant getting destroyed by your smile in the process... fine. He could survive a little heartache. Probably.

______

The next time you saw Jake, he was standing on a table. No, really. A whole table. In the middle of the quad. One foot on a crate of student newspaper stacks, the other on a folding chair, arms outstretched like he was Moses parting the Red Sea — if Moses wore a pink hoodie and had an iced Americano in hand. "DO NOT BELIEVE THE LIBEL," he yelled, voice hoarse, face flushed with indignation and too much caffeine. "I DID NOT, I REPEAT, DID NOT PROMISE FREE WIFI IN THE FOREST."

You stood beside Yunjin, clutching your coffee and blinking. She deadpanned, "What the hell did you do to your assistant?"

"I let him believe in democracy," you whispered. She sipped her latte. "That's on you."

---

Apparently, while you were busy unraveling on Sunghoon's bed, Jake's modest student council campaign had gone viral. Or rather — the rumors about it had. A parody Instagram account under the handle @jake4dictator had posted a mock flyer featuring Jake's face photoshopped onto an anime villain's body with the caption: "HE PROMISED AIR CONDITIONING IN THE LIBRARY. HE DELIVERED VIBES."

Comments ranged from:

 "king. i will give him my vote and my heart."

to

"is this man even enrolled??"

Yunjin scrolled through the account with increasing horror. Jake stood nearby, now fending off a group of girls asking if he could "legally abolish finals." You joined him at the base of the steps. "Jake—" He turned. "They think I have power, Y/N. I haven't even submitted my candidacy form yet." "Then maybe don't stand on furniture and scream." "But they LIKE it." A voice shouted from the crowd: "Jake for President of Everything!" He lit up. You turned to Yunjin. "He's gone." She nodded. "Fully radicalized."

---

By the afternoon, a formal email arrived from the Student Council Board. It wasn't a warning. It was an invitation. You stared at it. "They want him to run... for real." Yunjin laughed. "He can't even tie a tie." Sunghoon, leaning beside the vending machine, added, "That might be why they want him." You looked over. He was in one of his crisp button-downs again, sleeves rolled up just enough to expose the veins in his forearms. His hair was slightly messy, his bag slung carelessly over one shoulder. You tried to focus. Failed. He tilted his head. "You okay?" You blinked. "Yeah. It's just—" you motioned vaguely to Jake's fan club, now passing out pins — "this got out of hand." Sunghoon's mouth twitched. "You proud?" "Honestly?" You exhaled. "Kind of." He studied you. You looked away first.

--

You all met that evening in the Media Room — the unofficial war room — to figure out what came next. Jake paced. Yunjin edited a new flyer. You sat on the couch beside Sunghoon, laptop open, watching the chaos. "This is a PR nightmare," Jake declared. "We need an actual campaign strategy now. Speeches. Outreach. Voter data. A vibe."

"You are the vibe," Yunjin muttered.

"I need infrastructure!" Jake shouted. Sunghoon spoke quietly beside you, "He's spiraling." You leaned closer. "Should we tranquilize him?" "I've got gummy bears." "That'll work." He handed you the pack. Your fingers brushed. You pretended not to notice. He definitely noticed. You pretended not to notice that either. Jake turned to you. "Y/N. Please. Be my campaign manager. I need a brilliant mind and emotional regulation." You blinked. "What part of me suggests emotional regulation?" "You haven't punched me yet. That's more than I can say for Yunjin."

Yunjin raised her hand. "I'll do it again." Jake clasped your shoulders dramatically. "Help me. I'm too pretty to fail." You sighed. "Fine. But we do this smart. No more shouting in public—" "—no promises." "—and no more making up policies on the spot." "I thought the juice fountain idea was inspired." Sunghoon mumbled, "It was." You turned to him. "You're not helping." He smiled.

--

Later, when everyone else had left, you lingered in the hallway outside the Media Room, still half-laughing over Jake's campaign tagline ("J-A-K-E: Just A Kid Enlightening"). Sunghoon stayed too. You weren't sure if that was on purpose. But you weren't asking him to leave. He stood next to you, quiet. Not shy — just present. Steady. You both watched the fluorescent light flicker above the hallway door. "I've never had this many people around me before," you said suddenly. He looked over. You clarified, "Not like this. Not chaos, and noise, and stupid slogans. Just... people who care." He nodded. "It's good." "It's overwhelming." He glanced at you. "You look okay." You smiled faintly. "You think?" "You carry it well." You turned. Leaned against the wall. "Do you?" He paused. Then, softly: "I'm trying." You watched his expression shift — something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. You stepped closer. He didn't move away. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded.

You tilted your head. "Why'd you really offer to help Jake last week? You barely knew him." A beat of silence. Then, voice low: "Because you were standing next to him." Your heart jumped. He looked at you. Calm. Open. You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then smiled — warm, slow, maybe a little stupid. "Okay," you said. He smiled too. And that smile was different. It wasn't smug. Or sarcastic. Or flustered. It was soft. Like he'd already decided. Like he'd already picked you. Even if he wouldn't say it yet. Even if it would take a while. That was fine. You had time.

______________

The campus felt different in the days before the debate. Not just busier. Louder.

Banners unfurled from library balconies, leaflets littered the grass, chalk messages ran across the pavement like bright, urgent veins: VOTE THIS FRIDAY — MAKE YOUR VOICE COUNT — KARAOKE KING 2025 (that one was Jake's doing, apparently). It wasn't just a student election anymore. It was a spectacle. And you were in the middle of it.

--

The Media Room looked like a war bunker. Stacks of flyers in one corner, campaign merchandise in another — mostly buttons and stickers with Jake's face. Half of them were from actual supporters. The other half were ironic. Jake didn't care. At the table, Jake was hunched over his laptop, muttering, "If I mention free donuts in the opening statement, is that bribery or... just kindness?" "No." You didn't look up from your notes. "It's corruption with sprinkles."

Yunjin snorted from the couch, scrolling through the latest student newspaper article. "They're calling him the 'charismatic underdog.'" Jake brightened. "That's good press!" "They also called you 'a golden retriever with questionable fiscal policies.'" He deflated. "...still cute, though."

--

Sunghoon walked in without knocking, and the air shifted. Not dramatically. He didn't do dramatic. But the quiet attention he carried into a room was impossible to ignore.

He had his bag slung over one shoulder, wearing a plain navy sweater pushed to the elbows. The soft knit clung faintly to his forearms when he set his notebook down. And — god help you — his biceps caught your attention again, the fabric stretching just enough when he pulled a chair closer to the table. "Opposition's been busy," he said, voice low. "They're tightening their platform. Fewer jokes, more attacks."

Jake frowned. "On me?" Sunghoon's eyes flicked to you. "Not just you." You froze. "What?" He slid a single sheet of paper across the table.

On it: a screenshot from a private campus forum thread. Your name. A few lines of speculation. And then, lower, a blunt statement about why you "shouldn't be trusted with campaign funds." You stared at it. "That's not even true—" "I know," Sunghoon cut in, calm but firm. "But it's gaining traction." Jake slammed his palm on the table. "Who posts this garbage?" "People who want to win," Sunghoon said simply.

---

The conversation spiraled into strategy. Yunjin suggested preemptively addressing the rumors at the debate. Jake wanted to "make it a joke." You wanted to set the record straight without drawing more attention to it. Sunghoon listened quietly, jotting occasional notes, but his gaze kept returning to you — not in pity, not in suspicion, but something heavier. Like he was cataloguing your reactions. Filing them away for later. When the meeting wound down, Jake bounced off to a photo op ("They're filming me eating pizza in the quad!"), leaving you, Sunghoon, and Yunjin alone. Yunjin yawned, stretched, and stood. "I'll grab food. You two... do whatever intense staring contest you've got going." You glared at her. "We're talking strategy."

"Mmhm." She winked and left.

--

Silence settled between you and Sunghoon once she was gone. "You handled it well," he said finally. "The rumor?" He nodded. "Most people would've gotten defensive." "I am defensive." "Not outwardly." His mouth twitched faintly. "You're good at holding the line."

You crossed your arms. "You say that like you've been watching." "I have." That landed harder than it should have. "Because of Jake?" you asked. His gaze didn't waver. "...Not just Jake." Your pulse jumped. You broke eye contact first, pretending to gather papers. "The debate's going to be a mess." "Maybe," he said. "Or maybe it's when they realize you're the real weapon." You looked at him. Really looked.

And there it was again — that calm, steady confidence he seemed to have in you, even when you didn't have it in yourself. It unnerved you. And, annoyingly, it thrilled you too.

--

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of campaign prep. You reviewed Jake's likely questions, organized cue cards, and tried not to think about the fact that the entire student body — plus faculty and press — would be watching. Outside, the quad was already being transformed into the debate stage. Rows of folding chairs, string lights, and the faint hum of sound checks filled the air. By the time you left the Media Room, the sun was low, the campus bathed in gold. Sunghoon fell into step beside you without a word. For a while, you just walked. And though nothing was said, you couldn't shake the feeling that every step toward that debate stage was also a step toward something else — something unspoken, building between you both, slow and certain.MSomething that wouldn't stay unspoken for much longer.

_______

The quad looked like it had been swallowed by an election festival. By the time you arrived, the sun had dipped low enough to turn the tops of the brick buildings honey-gold, and the string lights above the debate stage glowed like a constellation someone had netted and hung overhead. Rows upon rows of folding chairs faced a low platform draped in school colors. Large screens flanked the stage, already projecting the faces of tonight's "headline candidates" — Jake among them, grinning like he'd been born for this.

Students milled everywhere. Some held homemade signs (J-A-K-E!, KARAOKE KING, MAKE MIDTERMS OPTIONAL). Others wore the opposition's slicker, more professional badges. A small group of student journalists huddled in the front row, cameras slung over their shoulders. It was louder than you'd expected. Louder than it had any right to be.

--

"You're pale," Yunjin murmured beside you. "I'm fine." "You're gripping your cue cards so hard they're bending." You eased your hold, exhaling. "I'm fine." She glanced at you with that knowing smirk. "You'll be more than fine. You'll make him look like a genius." Before you could respond, Jake bounded up, hair perfectly tousled, jacket looking freshly ironed, the human embodiment of I woke up like this. "Team," he announced, "we are about to make history."You deadpanned. "Let's focus on making it through thirty minutes without you promising free puppies  for everyone." He winked. "Noted."

--

From the corner of your eye, you caught Sunghoon approaching the stage area. He'd swapped his sweater for a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, the neat lines of the fabric framing his shoulders. He carried a slim folder under one arm, moving with quiet purpose, like he'd walked into a high court rather than a campus event. Your gaze caught, held, for a beat too long. He didn't smile. But the flicker in his eyes — subtle, almost imperceptible — said he'd noticed.

--

The debate moderator, a senior from the journalism program, ran through last-minute rules: candidates at the front, campaign managers in the wings, no interruptions from the crowd. You stationed yourself off to the side, where you could feed Jake lines if necessary. Sunghoon stood just behind the opposition's candidate — a tall, sharp-tongued econ major named Minji — flipping through his notes without looking rushed.

You caught him watching you once. Twice. The third time, he didn't look away immediately. The opening statements were harmless enough — Jake leaned into humor ("I may not have an economics degree, but I know the library vending machines have been stealing our money for years"), while Minji countered with polished promises and fiscal jargon.

It was the third question that shifted the tone. A student journalist stood, adjusting their glasses. "This question is for Candidate Sim," they said — Jake — "but perhaps your campaign manager would like to answer as well."

You froze. Jake tilted his head. "Go on." "Some students have expressed concern," the journalist continued, "about your choice of campaign manager, given her... history with last semester's budget dispute in the Arts Council." There it was. The rumor Sunghoon had warned you about — served under bright lights, with half the campus watching.

--

You didn't look at Sunghoon. But you could feel him, a quiet anchor somewhere behind your right shoulder. Jake glanced at you. The audience murmured. You stepped forward. "Last semester," you began, voice even, "the Arts Council faced a funding shortage. We had two choices — cut programs, or reallocate funds from unused grants. I recommended reallocation. The board voted against it. That's their prerogative. But it was neither illegal nor unethical. It was a difference in vision."

The words came easily, each one clipped and deliberate. You weren't pleading. You weren't defensive. "Student leadership," you continued, "is about choices. Sometimes hard ones. I stand by mine, and I'd do it again if it meant protecting student opportunities." You held the journalist's gaze for a beat before stepping back.

--

The murmurs shifted. Not approval exactly — but respect. Jake grinned, turned to the mic, and said, "That's why I hired her." The crowd laughed. The moderator moved on. During the next few questions, you felt the tight coil in your stomach loosen — just enough to notice the way Sunghoon had shifted. He was no longer scanning his notes. He was watching you, elbows resting casually on the table in front of him. It wasn't a smirk. It wasn't even a smile.

It was sharper than both — the look of someone quietly recalculating their understanding of you. And god, it made your pulse misbehave. The debate wound toward closing statements. Jake stayed on message, Minji landed a few pointed digs, but nothing as sharp as that budget question. When it ended, the crowd erupted — half cheering, half already rushing to post clips online. You gathered your notes, stepping down from the stage. The cool night air met your skin, carrying the faint scent of cut grass and something warmer — cologne. Sunghoon was suddenly there, falling into step beside you.

"You handled that well," he said. "Thanks." He glanced sidelong at you. "Didn't flinch once." "Couldn't give them the satisfaction."

His mouth curved — just barely. "Good."

--

Yunjin appeared, slapping you lightly on the back. "You just made yourself a hundred new enemies and twice as many admirers." Jake trotted over, flushed from the adrenaline. "We killed it, right?" "Moderately murdered," Yunjin said.

"Politically stabbed," you added.

Sunghoon's voice was quieter, for you alone: "Strategically lethal."

And the way he said it — slow, deliberate — lodged under your skin, warm and dangerous.

_____

The quad had emptied slowly after the debate, voices trailing off into the hum of late campus life. The folding chairs were stacked now, the stage stripped of its banners, and the string lights above swayed gently in the night breeze. You'd stayed longer than planned, helping Jake hand off the last of his campaign props to a volunteer, partly because you needed to make sure the equipment got back to the media department... and partly because you weren't ready to go back to your apartment yet. The adrenaline was still too sharp, the taste of that budget question still lingering at the back of your throat.

When you finally stepped away from the logistics, the quad felt almost private.

Not silent — you could hear music from somewhere down the path, the faint rush of the fountain by the library — but stripped of its earlier chaos.

Sunghoon was leaning against the low brick wall near the steps, hands in his pockets, shirt sleeves still rolled, collar open just enough to hint at the line of his throat. He didn't straighten when you approached, just watched you cross the space toward him.

--

"You waited?" you asked. His answer was simple. "Yeah." "For...?" "You," he said, as if it were obvious. Then, after a pause: "We should talk." You stopped a few feet from him. "About?" He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled one hand from his pocket, holding a folded sheet of paper between his fingers — the same size as the notes he used during the debate. But when you took it, you realized it wasn't debate prep. It was a printed screenshot from that same private forum thread. New posts.

Your name mentioned again. More pointed speculation this time — some of it veiled, some of it not. The kind of things that could fester if left unchecked. You felt your jaw tighten. "I told you, it's not—" "I know it's not," he interrupted, voice low but steady. "I also know the opposition will use whatever they can. They're already digging, and I..." He stopped there, watching your face carefully. "...I just don't want you blindsided." The way he said it wasn't just political strategy. It was... personal. Too personal. You looked down at the paper again, forcing your voice level. "Thanks for the warning. I can handle it." "I know you can."

It was the same words he'd said after the debate — but softer now. Weighted. He pushed away from the wall, closing the space between you until you could see the faint sheen of exertion still clinging to his skin, the curve of his lashes in the light from the lamppost. For a moment, he just studied you — not in the calculating way he had during campaign meetings, but like he was trying to memorize the exact shape of you here, in this moment.

Then he said, "You're used to doing everything yourself." You blinked. "What?" "You carry everything like it's yours alone to fix. Even things that aren't your fault." His gaze flicked down, then back up. "I know that because I've done it too." The words sank in slowly, heavy as stones. "...What are you talking about?"

--

He hesitated — not the measured kind of pause you'd come to expect from him, but something rougher, as if he was deciding whether to open a locked door.

"My father," he said finally. "When things went wrong, he expected me to fix them. Quietly. No matter whose fault it was." Your throat went tight. He didn't sound bitter exactly — more like someone describing an injury that had healed badly, the ache still deep in the bone. "I got good at keeping things contained," he went on. "Good at staying quiet. At being... dependable. But not because anyone asked if I wanted to be." He stopped there, breathing out slowly, and you realized your hands had curled around the paper he'd given you. "Sunghoon..." you began, but your voice trailed. The air between you shifted. It wasn't sudden — more like a quiet, invisible thread tightening.

You felt it in the stillness of him, in the way his shoulders squared not with arrogance but with decision. His eyes, dark and intent, didn't waver from yours. He stepped closer — slow, deliberate — until the scent of him reached you. Clean soap. A faint trace of cologne. And something warmer beneath, the heat of skin that had been standing too close for too long. One hand lifted, fingers brushing lightly along your temple before sliding into your hair. He tucked a strand behind your ear with careful precision, the back of his knuckles grazing the curve of your cheek on the way down. You caught the tiniest shift in his breathing then — not uneven, but deeper, as though he'd just realized how close he was. His gaze flicked between your eyes and your mouth, not fast, not guilty... just slowly, like he was committing both to memory. His other hand came up, knuckles brushing along the hinge of your jaw before his thumb found your bottom lip. He dragged it once, barely pressing, the pad catching on the soft curve.

--

You inhaled, pulse thrumming under your skin. His breath hitched — quiet but sharp enough for you to hear it in the stillness — and he bit down gently on his own lower lip, the movement deliberate. Not nervous. Considering. Then the pressure of his thumb deepened, coaxing your lips apart. He didn't rush it. He held your gaze the entire time, as if the act of watching you react was as intoxicating to him as the touch itself. And then — without a word — he slid the pad of his thumb just inside your mouth.

--

It wasn't crude. It wasn't rushed. But it was filthy in the way it bypassed every polite boundary you'd had with him until now. Your lips closed around him instinctively, the faint taste of his skin and the faint salt of the air between you hitting your tongue. You didn't suck — you didn't need to — but you let your tongue trace against the side of his thumb, a slow, testing motion. His reaction was immediate. A sharp inhale through his nose. The slightest tightening of his jaw. His eyes darkened, but they didn't look away.

The muscles in his forearm flexed subtly where he held your face, his biceps tightening under the rolled sleeve as if restraining himself from more. His thumb lingered inside your mouth for one long, heavy beat, your tongue brushing again before he eased it back — slow enough to leave a faint trail of dampness behind.

--

He didn't wipe it away. Instead, his thumb brushed lazily along your lip one last time, smearing that faint trace before dropping his hand. The air between you felt thicker now — dense with something you couldn't name but could feel in every inch of your skin. "You..." he started, then stopped, exhaling through his nose. "You make it very hard to be careful." It wasn't an admission of love. It wasn't even an admission of desire in so many words. But the way he looked at you when he said it — like there was nothing else in the world but the person standing in front of him — made it clear he was already too far gone.

________

He didn't move his hand right away. The faint dampness of his thumb on your lips cooled in the night air, but the heat in his gaze didn't fade. If anything, it sharpened — his pupils blown just wide enough that you could see your own reflection in them. And then he tilted his head.

Just a fraction. Just enough that you felt it — the shift in his focus from your eyes to your mouth, the almost imperceptible tightening in his jaw, the faint lift of his chest as he drew in a slow breath. You didn't step back. He closed the remaining space like gravity was pulling him — slow, unhurried, but inevitable. His fingers slid back into your hair, the tips pressing lightly against the base of your skull, guiding without forcing. His other hand, the one that had just been at your mouth, ghosted down the side of your neck, fingertips brushing over your pulse before resting lightly at the top of your shoulder. His breath was warm now, ghosting over your mouth. You could feel it — every exhale, every subtle shift forward — as his gaze flicked to your lips and back again, his own parting just enough that you caught the faintest glimpse of teeth. You were already leaning the rest of the way in before you realized you'd moved.

--

The space between you was gone. A single inch, maybe less. You could smell the faint sweetness of whatever tea he'd had after the debate, mingling with the sharper edge of his cologne. His lips barely brushed yours — not even a kiss, just the barest graze, enough to set off a chain reaction under your skin — when a sound cut clean through the tension. A phone. Shrill, insistent, and way too close.

--

Sunghoon's eyes closed for one long second, his forehead dipping forward until it rested briefly against yours in silent frustration. You could feel the sigh in his chest before he straightened, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. It was his phone.

Still buzzing in his pocket. He didn't answer it immediately. Just stood there for another moment, watching you, letting the space he'd just closed stretch open again until the cool air slipped between you. Finally, he drew in a breath, broke eye contact, and reached for his phone. "I have to take this," he said quietly, voice rougher than it had been all night. You nodded, because you couldn't trust yourself to speak.

_____

By the time Sunghoon stepped a pace back, the sound of his phone still buzzing between you, the quad felt different again — not empty, but changed.

You knew the exact moment when his thumb had brushed the inside of your mouth would replay in your head later, uninvited. You also knew you weren't the only one still carrying it. He didn't look away until the last possible second. Then he glanced down at the screen, jaw tightening, and turned slightly so you couldn't see the caller ID.

"Hello," he said, voice clipped in a way it hadn't been a minute ago. He listened, his free hand sliding into his pocket again, shoulders angling just enough to make it clear this wasn't a conversation you were meant to overhear. You caught fragments anyway. "...No, I told you... tomorrow. I'm not—"

Then, quieter: "...We'll talk about it later."

When he hung up, he stayed still for a moment before tucking the phone away and meeting your gaze again. "Sorry. Urgent." You could have asked who it was. You didn't. Whatever it was, it wasn't Jake's campaign business, and the way his tone had shifted made you think it wasn't the kind of thing he'd tell you out in the open.

--

"You still have Jake's cue cards?" he asked suddenly. You blinked. "Yeah. Why?" "Opposition's already trying to spin his closing remarks. They're cutting clips out of context." "That didn't take long," you muttered. "Nothing does in this place." He adjusted his bag, the motion pulling his sweater tighter across his shoulders for a moment. "Send them to me when you can. I'll forward them to... someone." The way he said it made you suspect "someone" wasn't officially on his team.

--

The sound of hurried footsteps broke your reply. Jake jogged up from the far end of the quad, slightly out of breath but grinning like the debate had been a personal victory parade. "Did you see?" he panted. "We trended. On two platforms."

"Trended for what?" you asked warily.

"Does it matter?" He slung an arm loosely over your shoulders before you could stop him. "I was charming, you were smart, Sunghoon looked intimidating — perfect campaign optics." Sunghoon arched a brow. "You do realize trending for the wrong thing can cost you the election?" Jake waved a hand. "Details." You shot Sunghoon an apologetic glance over Jake's arm, but he was already looking at you, not Jake, as if there was an entire second conversation happening there without words.

--

Yunjin arrived a minute later, holding two paper cups of coffee and somehow still managing to look like she'd just stepped out of a photoshoot. She handed one to you, then surveyed the three of you with an expression that said she was catching up on every unsaid thing in the air. "Okay," she said, "which one of you is going to explain the awkward tension, and which one is going to deny it?"

Jake frowned. "What tension?" "Exactly," Yunjin said flatly. She turned back to you. "The journalism department's dropping their debate coverage in the morning. Expect three flattering photos of Jake, one of you mid-blink, and none of Sunghoon because he apparently doesn't photograph without looking like an assassin." "That's a skill," Jake said cheerfully. Sunghoon didn't reply — but the corner of his mouth twitched like he might have, if certain people weren't watching.

--

The four of you ended up walking together toward the library steps, the night air crisp and smelling faintly of rain. Campaign talk dominated most of it — where Jake should be tomorrow, what messaging to push, which volunteer groups were falling behind — but beneath all of that, you could feel the quiet pulse of the earlier moment with Sunghoon, still unresolved. Every so often, you caught him glancing your way. Not long enough for anyone else to notice. Just enough for you to feel it.

_________

The morning after the debate, campus felt sharper. Not hostile — at least, not entirely — but tuned in a way it hadn't been before. The quad's bulletin boards were already plastered with debate recap posters, some official, some clearly printed in dorm basements. Half were pro-Jake, half were neutral, and a small but loud fraction were openly mocking one candidate or another. The journalism department's online recap had dropped at sunrise. Yunjin had been right: Jake got three flattering shots, you got one caught mid-blink, and Sunghoon's only photo was a blurry side angle that somehow still looked intimidating. By the time you made it to campaign HQ — a repurposed study room at the back of the student union — Jake was already pacing with his phone in hand, gesturing animatedly to someone on the other end.

"...No, I'm not changing my platform," he was saying. "If they want to call me unrealistic, fine — I'd rather be unrealistic than spineless—" He glanced up at you as you walked in, gave a quick salute with the hand not holding his phone, and went back to arguing.

--

Yunjin was leaning against the corner table, scrolling on her tablet, her coffee cup already empty. "Good, you're here," she said without looking up. "We have a problem." "That's one way to say good morning," you muttered, setting your bag down. "Jake's opponent leaked something," she said. "Not scandal-level, but messy. They've got a clip from an old student council meeting — Jake laughing at a budget proposal. They're framing it as him mocking low-income students." "That's not what happened," you said instantly.

"Of course it's not. But perception matters more than reality. And the clip is already viral." Jake hung up then, tossing his phone onto the table. "I told you," he said to Yunjin, "I can spin it." "You can't spin everything," she shot back. "Sometimes you have to control the story before it controls you."

--

The door opened then — no knock, no warning — and Sunghoon stepped inside.

He wasn't dressed for class yet, just in a dark sweatshirt and black jeans, but the way he carried himself still drew every pair of eyes in the room. "I've seen the clip," he said without preamble. "It's bad." "Thanks for the optimism," Jake muttered. "I didn't say it was fatal," Sunghoon continued, ignoring him. "But you'll need a counter-narrative before lunch." Yunjin arched a brow. "And you're here to... help us out of the kindness of your heart?" Sunghoon's gaze flicked to you briefly. "Something like that." You didn't miss the way Yunjin's eyes narrowed slightly, like she'd just confirmed a suspicion.

--

The next hour was a blur of strategy talk. Jake wanted to double down; Yunjin wanted to pivot; Sunghoon quietly dismantled both arguments until the three of them were forced into a compromise — a short video statement filmed that afternoon, explaining the context without sounding defensive.

You noticed, though, that every time the conversation splintered into side arguments, Sunghoon's attention wandered back to you. Not constantly. Just enough that you felt it. By the time the plan was set and Jake had stormed out to "cool off" with a game of table tennis in the rec hall, the study room was quieter. Yunjin left soon after, muttering something about calling her media contact. That left you and Sunghoon.

--

He was packing up his notes when he said, without looking at you, "About last night." Your stomach tightened — not with dread, but with the kind of sharp, breathless awareness you'd felt when his thumb had been inside your mouth. "What about it?" you asked, keeping your tone as neutral as you could manage. He finally looked at you then, his eyes holding yours like he was bracing for you to flinch. You didn't. "I wasn't... playing a game," he said slowly. "I know it might have looked like I was pushing buttons, but I wasn't trying to get a reaction for the sake of it. I just—" He broke off, exhaling through his nose. "It was you. It's always been you."

Something in your chest clenched. "You don't have to explain," you said quietly. "Yeah, I do." His voice was steady now. "Because if we keep circling around it, we're going to keep getting in our own way. And... I don't want to."

--

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you said, "We'll talk about it. Just... not right now. Too much else going on." His mouth curved — not quite a smile, but softer than anything he'd given you before. "Fair enough." But the way he looked at you after that — warm, unguarded, like the rest of the room had ceased to exist — told you everything you needed to know. You were both in it now. Completely. And eventually, you'd have to stop pretending otherwise.

_______

By eight a.m., campus had already decided what happened at last night's debate — whether they were there or not. The student paper's homepage ran a headline that was both dramatic and weirdly affectionate ("The Night Democracy Got a Little Hot"), the anonymous forum had splintered into thirty-seven threads with titles like WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE LIBRARY WIFI and WHY DOES THAT QUIET GUY LOOK LIKE HE EATS PEOPLE (COMPLIMENT), and someone had looped a clip of Jake blinking for exactly nine seconds with the caption: our future in one GIF. The clip was playing on a phone screen when you walked into campaign HQ, and three freshmen volunteers were rating the blink like it was a floor routine. "Strong opening," one said, squinting. "But he loses commitment in the middle third."

Yunjin didn't look up when you came in; she was already dressed for battle in sunglasses and lip gloss, tweaking a caption on a draft post while her second coffee cooled untouched by her elbow. "Good, you're here," she said, thumbs moving fast. "We're hemorrhaging the narrative."

You dropped your bag and braced both hands on the table. "Tell me it's not that bad." "It's not that bad," she said, perfectly deadpan. "It's worse." She spun the tablet around and started flipping through windows. "Opposition posted three edited videos before sunrise. Watch—" A split: Jake mid-laugh, then a harsh cut to an out-of-context budget line, then a slow zoom on your face from the Q&A with a caption that read THE REAL BRAIN (DANGEROUS) like you were a supervillain. "And they added anonymous 'sources' claiming Jake thinks 'fun is a policy.'"

"That was a joke," you said. "He made that joke in front of the pizza truck." "I know." She paused, then added in a lighter tone, "To be fair, it was a good joke." "It was a good truck." "Focus," she said, but she was narrowly smiling now, which counted as a small miracle. You rolled your shoulders like a boxer about to touch gloves. "Okay. Strategy. We post a clean clip of the budget answer, clarify context, link the full student council minutes—" "And then they call it a walk-back," Yunjin said. "No. We need the 'ha-ha but also we can read' approach. One part snark, one part receipts, and exactly zero parts panic." "Memes and PDFs?" "Memes wielding PDFs like knives." "Sold," you said, already opening your laptop. The door swung in and Sunghoon slipped through without knocking, sleeves pushed up, hair still a little sleep-ruffled like he'd fought with his pillow and lost, which was unfair because his biceps were winning everything else. He took in the room — the volunteers, the coffee, the slumped inflatable "VOTE" letters in the corner — and set a slim folder by your elbow like he was dropping evidence on a courtroom table. "Opposition's anonymous sources aren't anonymous," he said, voice low but carrying. "It's the same two accounts cycling quotes. One's a burner with three followers; the other's a freshman we can flip with a free sandwich and a kind word." Yunjin finally looked at him over the rim of her sunglasses. "You're suggesting bribery and charm in the same sentence. I'm listening." "It's not bribery if we were going to buy lunch anyway," he said mildly. He glanced at you then, quick and brief, like a reflex he didn't bother to hide anymore. You pretended you didn't notice and also failed completely. "Morning," you said.

"Hi," he said, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

There was that small, ridiculous shift again — a little drop in your stomach, a soft lift in your ribs. If last night had reset some unnamed knob between you two, this morning had simply... left it there. The quad might've been on fire, but the way he said hi still felt like a secret. You pushed the folder open. "What's this?" "Clip map, timestamps, and who posted what first," he said, sliding a pen out of his pocket and circling two lines. "These are the cuts we rebut with context. These are the cuts we let die. If you chase all of it, you look guilty. If you pick the right ones, you look competent." "You're good at this," you said. He shrugged. "I like puzzles." "Is that what this is?" you asked, deadpan. "A puzzle?" His eyes flicked to yours, warm and annoyingly fond. "No," he said, softer. "This is your job. I just don't like watching you get dragged by people who can't read a PDF." Yunjin, not even pretending to be subtle, turned her chair three inches so she could watch the two of you like it was daytime television. "Wow. Did the temperature rise in here? Someone open a window. Or a fire hydrant." "Help or hush," you said, but you were smiling, and she knew it.

"Fine," she said, tapping the screen. "Counterstrike proposal: we post the full budget minutes with friendly bolded sections and a dumb caption so people actually click — something like 'it's a pdf, not a prophecy.' Alongside: a thirty-second highlight reel of Jake being charming and specific. Then you—" she pointed at you "—reply to two threads from the official account with those links. Not defensive. Surgical."

"And me?" Sunghoon asked. "You," she said, "will be our tall, handsome, terrifying smokescreen. DM the freshman. DM the burner. Offer lunch. Offer mercy. Offer a nap. I don't care. Flip them or stall them." Sunghoon nodded once, already pulling out his phone. You watched the way his thumb moved across the screen — quick, precise — and told your brain to please focus on something other than thumbs for one singular day. Your brain refused. "Where's Jake?" Sunghoon asked. "On a campus tour he accidentally volunteered to lead," Yunjin said. "He's misinforming six parents and giving one of them a recipe for the dining hall brownies." You and Sunghoon said, in tandem, "We don't have brownies," then looked at each other and laughed because apparently you were now sharing a single brain cell.

"Okay," you said, corralling the room's chaos. "Timeline: meme-with-PDF goes up in forty minutes. Then the highlight reel. Then we seed the full minutes in the comments of the two biggest threads. No arguing. No paragraphs. We are breezy geniuses who happen to own printers." "Breezy geniuses," Yunjin repeated, typing. "I'm buying that shirt." You got to work. It felt like building a sandbag wall during a very silly flood: one eye on the rising water, one eye on the group chat, and one eye (third eye?) on the man beside you who kept leaning in to point at your screen and somehow always chose chaos-level proximity. Twice his shoulder brushed yours; once his knee bumped your chair; and every time, it shot a small, traitorous bolt of electricity along your spine. The romcom gods said don't be weird about it. You were weird about it internally and spectacularly normal on the outside, which felt like growth.

"Caption?" Yunjin asked, holding up her tablet. You skimmed. 'clarifying because reading is hot: here's the boring pdf with the fun parts highlighted. bring a snack.' "Perfect," you said. "Post it." It went live. Within a minute you watched a reply: reading IS hot, who runs this account and are they single. Yunjin replied from the official handle: we're married to transparency. The like count jumped absurdly fast. You pushed the highlight reel next: thirty seconds of Jake saying actually, here's how reallocation works and citing two sources, cut with exactly two jokes and a blink sequence that somehow made him look competent and adoptable. The comments underneath were the only acceptable mix for internet survival: half light teasing, half ohhh I get it now. You exhaled. The room's collective shoulders unclenched. "Small fire contained," Yunjin announced. "On to medium fires." "On it," Sunghoon said, tucking his phone away. "Freshman flipped. Burner stalled." "How'd you flip him?" you asked. "Kindness," he said. "And?" "A sandwich." You saluted him with your water bottle. "Hero of the people." He tipped his head like obviously, and you hated how charmed you were by the smallest things: the way his eyes warmed when you teased him, the way he gave attention like it was currency, the way his canines flashed when he smiled with his whole mouth — vampire teeth, soft boy, devastating combination.

A volunteer popped her head in. "Um, there's a film club outside asking if Jake will do a cameo in their noir short about a corrupt printer. Also... someone sent cupcakes." "From who?" Yunjin asked. The volunteer checked the card. "It just says Democracy ♥." You and Sunghoon said, again in stereo, "We don't accept edible bribes," which sent you both into another small, traitorous laugh. The volunteer set the box on the far table anyway and whispered, "I licked one so it's mine now," then vanished like a goblin. You glanced at the box, then at Sunghoon, and the corner of his mouth curved, like you'd just shared the same joke without speaking. That was happening more, and each time felt like someone tightening the bow on a gift you were not ready to unwrap in public.

"Walk with me?" you asked, because the room was getting loud and the campus was getting hot and your brain was getting reckless. He didn't even pretend to think about it. "Yeah." You told Yunjin you'd loop back in twenty, she waved you off with a "Don't fall in love on my time," and you and Sunghoon stepped out into hallways that smelled like printer ink and the first too-warm day of spring. The corridor opened onto a quiet balcony above the quad — early birds sprawled on the grass, someone practicing a trumpet badly, two squirrels engaged in litigation over a bagel. You leaned on the railing. He took the spot just beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost touched. "You're good under pressure," he said after a beat, like a fact he was filing. "You make it easier," you said back, before your internal editor could tackle you. You pretended you'd meant the workflow and not breathing near you is my new coping mechanism. He hummed, a low sound that felt like I heard you anyway. "Thanks for backing Yunjin," you added. "She pretends she doesn't care if anyone agrees with her, but it helps." "She is usually right," he said. "Also terrifying." "True on both counts." "Also kind," he said, and when you tilted your head, he shrugged one shoulder. "She pretended not to notice when I forgot my wallet at the café last week."

"Did you?" "For three hours," he said. "She paid. Called me 'Your Highness.'" You laughed, picturing it — Sunghoon, perfectly put-together, quietly mortified; Yunjin, delighted. When you looked at him again, he wasn't watching the quad anymore. He was watching you. Not trying to hide it, not flustered — just openly, thoughtfully watching, like the sight of you enjoying something was more interesting than anything else that could be happening on campus. "Don't do that," you said lightly, because your pulse had popped to the surface.

"Do what?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Look at me like you just decided where you're transferring your major concentration."

He kept a straight face for almost three seconds, then let it break into a real smile. His teeth flashed — sharp, unfair — and something inside your chest did a small, ridiculous flip. You looked away first, because you were brave in many arenas, and not brave in this one at ten in the morning on a balcony with a boy whose sleeves made his forearms look like an architectural feature. Your phone buzzed. Jake: plz come outside immediately i am about to adopt an improv troupe. You showed the screen. Sunghoon sighed, like a man preparing to herd golden retrievers. Down on the quad, Jake was holding court with a group of theatre majors dressed in trench coats and moral ambiguity. "It's a piece about truth," one was saying solemnly. "And also trains."

"Fascinating," Jake said, equally solemn. "I can be Station Master. Or Train. Or Truth."

"Or Campaign Manager," you inserted, gently pulling him away by the sleeve. The troupe thanked him for his service to art and vanished into a cloud of jazz hands.

Jake pivoted to face you and Sunghoon, eyes bright. "I had an idea."

"Return it," Sunghoon said.

"Rude," Jake said fondly, then clapped his hands once. "Rapid-response booth. We set up a table right now — 'Ask Us Anything, Get an Actual Answer.' The only rule is we don't lie and we don't dodge. We'll do three hours. Optics: transparency, accessibility, freckles."

"You don't have freckles," you said. "Everyone does if the lighting is right." "It's... not terrible," you admitted, then glanced at Sunghoon. "It's very you," he said to Jake. "If we do it, station volunteers who can actually explain things. Not just vibes." "That's hurtful," Jake said. "But fair." "Also," Sunghoon added, taking a small step closer to you like he couldn't help it anymore, "you do the first hour. She does the second." He tipped his head toward you. "They trust her brain. They trust your face." "I'll allow it," Jake said, already texting. "Yunjin will bring signage. Or a sword. Or both." She brought both. Of course she did. The poster read ASK US ANYTHING (WE BROUGHT RECEIPTS) and the foam sword read CIVIL DISCOURSE in glitter. It should not have worked; somehow it did. For ninety minutes your table fielded everything from "where does my money actually go?" to "could the dining hall use cilantro more responsibly?" to "are we replacing finals with karaoke," and because this was still college, someone asked, "would you guys ever date each other," gesturing vaguely between the three of you like it was a love triangle audition. Jake said, without missing a beat, "I'm married to transparency," and Sunghoon said, very calmly, "She's out of my league," while looking at you like an answer had already been decided in a completely different room. You smiled down at a budget spreadsheet until your cheeks cooled. Romcom tension rule: never let the extras see you swoon.

By the time the second hour ended, the mood had shifted from gleeful chaos to something surprisingly... supportive. A student you didn't know dropped off a hand-drawn card that said thanks for not talking to us like we're dumb, and a professor you vaguely recognized told Jake he was "refreshing," which Jake would clearly live on for a week. The thread titles on the forum started changing tone: wait i learned something; the pdf was spicy; the quiet one is... funny?? That last one had a blurry shot of Sunghoon explaining reallocation with a marker in hand and an animation of sparkles someone had added over his head. You locked your phone so you wouldn't stare at it like a teenager.

You helped pack up the table; Yunjin handed back the foam sword with a solemn "for your enemies," then glided off to a meeting. Jake was already on to the next thing — signing a protest banner, filming a thank-you video for someone's club — and the volunteers drifted away, leaving the quad sunlit and soft and a little sleepy. Somehow, you and Sunghoon ended up alone again, standing just off the path where the shade cut the heat. For a minute neither of you spoke. The campus hummed at a low, pleasant volume: bees in the azaleas, distant laughter, a skateboard that absolutely should not have been on university property.

"You handled that well," he said at last, with the same calm certainty as last night. "You say that a lot," you replied. "It's because it keeps being true." You let yourself look at him — really look, in the forgiving noon light. The navy sweatshirt, the ink on his fingers from the marker, the way he'd stood half a step behind you at the table like he'd decided bodyguard was a volunteer role he could excel at. He caught you looking and didn't look away.

"About last night," you said, because it had been sitting on your tongue all morning, sweet and electric and impossible to swallow. "I'm not... confused." His expression didn't change, but you felt it anyway — a subtle drop in his guard, like a door unlatched. "Me neither," he said, voice low. "We have to work," you said, a little helpless, gesturing vaguely at the entire mess of election season. "There's a lot we have to do first. But—" "But," he echoed, and there was a smile in the word. You breathed out, a laugh caught in it. "I just wanted to say it out loud. So when we do talk — really talk — it won't feel like a surprise." "It won't," he said, stepping the smallest half-step closer, close enough that your shoulders brushed and stayed. "It doesn't." You stood there like that, not kissing, not rushing, not ruining the moment with jokes — just letting the quiet admit something you'd both known for days. It wasn't dramatic. It didn't need to be. It was simple and warm and true: a promise disguised as a pause.

"Okay," you said softly. "Okay," he repeated, and his canines flashed when he smiled, and you were absolutely done for. Your phones buzzed at the same time — Jake, obviously. emergency meeting he'd typed, followed by do you think a debate afterparty is tacky or patriotic and a photo of him holding the foam sword like Excalibur. You groaned. "He's going to make merch with that."

"He already did," Sunghoon said, showing you a link. CIVIL DISCOURSE tees. You stared. He added, deadpan, "I got you a medium." You bumped his shoulder with your own. "Spoiler alert: I'm wearing it ironically.” His voice dropped, amused. "You'll look good in anything." "You can't say things like that at lunchtime," you said, but you were smiling, because it was hopeless and happy and very, very you.

He pretended to consider. "Noted. I'll wait until three." "Terrible," you said, laughing. "Accurate," he said, a little softer, like he was tasting the word we without saying it. Back inside, the flurry resumed — Yunjin corralling schedules, volunteers mapping posts, Jake bright-eyed and chaotic, the campaign a tide you'd learned to surf. Through it all, Sunghoon stayed exactly where he'd been all morning: half a step beside you, offering strategy with the same hand that passed you a water bottle, rolling up his sleeves like the day had room for one more version of him you hadn't seen yet. Every time your arms brushed, neither of you moved away. Every time your eyes met, neither of you pretended you weren't looking. It wasn't awkward. It wasn't a secret. It was simply there — the thing you were both choosing to take seriously enough to do slowly. On your way out, as the meeting broke and the room emptied, he paused with you by the door, one hand on the frame, the other tucked in his pocket. "We'll talk," he said, as if you'd asked again, as if he'd heard the echo. "Yeah," you said. "We will." You started down the hall, then looked back. He was still there, handsomeness dialed to unfair, smiling like a promise he didn't have to say twice. You didn't need it twice. Once was already enough.

__________

It's too hot in here. Not sweltering, not uncomfortable — just... too warm for him to be focusing on cue cards while you sit across the desk, leaning forward like that. Sunghoon tells himself he's counting the number of rebuttal stacks you've sorted. He is. Mostly. But every few seconds, his gaze catches on the neckline of your blouse, on the faint slope of skin he absolutely should not be noticing, and it feels like the air shrinks between you. You're talking about framing points for Jake's next interview. He's hearing you — he is — but he's also hearing the faint rustle of fabric every time you shift, the click of your pen, the small sound you make when you concentrate and bite the inside of your cheek.

"Are you even listening?" you ask suddenly, looking up from your notes. He blinks, straightens. "Yes." You raise a brow. "Then what did I just say?" There's no way he can repeat it word-for-word without proving he's been distracted. He goes for the safest answer: "Something about restructuring the third response so he doesn't sound defensive." Your eyes narrow, but not in irritation. More like you know. "Right."

--

He drops his gaze back to the papers, trying to look busy, but then you lean forward again to grab a highlighter, and the movement pulls his attention right back. You don't notice, or maybe you do — the line between oblivious and deliberate with you is impossible to tell. "Your handwriting's terrible," he mutters, scanning one of your index cards. "It's called personality," you say without missing a beat. "Something you clearly lack." He looks up at that, just in time to catch the corner of your mouth twitch. "You've been spending too much time with Jake." "You'd rather I spend more time with you?" you tease, casual but edged in something warmer. The question lands heavier than it should. He answers by shuffling a fresh stack of cue cards and sliding them toward you, his fingers brushing yours — not by accident.

--

The door opens without warning. Yunjin steps in, eyes flicking between the two of you before she even closes it. "Well," she says, "this is cozy." You glance at her, then back at your notes like nothing's unusual. Sunghoon just raises an eyebrow. "Don't let me interrupt your..." she gestures vaguely between you, "...prep session." You give her a look. "We're working." "Sure." She grins, lingering a beat longer than necessary before walking out. The door clicks shut.

--

Jake bursts in less than a minute later, full of energy. "Okay, hear me out — what if I show up to the interview with a guitar?" "No," you and Sunghoon say in unison. Jake pauses, eyes bouncing between you like he's just witnessed something rare. "Weird. You two agreeing on something. Noted." He leaves with a mock salute, muttering something about "anti-music bias" under his breath.

--

When it's quiet again, you reach across the desk for a sheet he's holding, leaning close enough that he can smell the faint trace of your perfume. Your knee brushes his under the table — light, fleeting, but you don't move it away. Neither does he. The rest of the prep is done in low voices, shoulders occasionally bumping, fingers brushing when you pass each other pens. At one point, you're both bent over the same page, your hair falling forward just enough for him to imagine leaning in that fraction closer.

He doesn't. Not yet. But when you hand him the last of the sorted cards, he lets his thumb linger against your palm a beat too long, his voice dipping without thinking as he says, "Good work." You look at him for a second longer than necessary before going back to your notes.

__________

The press-prep room always smelled like dust and printer ink, a little too warm even with the door propped open by a stack of outdated style guides. You and Sunghoon had been shoulder-to-shoulder for an hour, smoothing the jagged edges of Jake's talking points into something that sounded like policy and not freestyle poetry. Every so often, your knees touched under the desk. Neither of you moved away. At some point, Sunghoon's voice started living in a lower register — not for effect, just because it did that when he was concentrating and you were close. A volunteer skidded into the doorway, breathless. "They found the leak," she blurted, eyes pinging between you and Sunghoon like she'd walked in on a secret. "It's in the Student Union. People are gathering. Jake's already there." You stood so fast your chair squeaked. "Define 'found.'" "Like... found found." She winced. "And he—uh—he's talking to them."

You and Sunghoon were in the hallway before the sentence landed. He fell into step beside you automatically, one hand steadying the door for you as you pushed into the main corridor. Your pace matched without discussion. That kept happening now — your bodies made small decisions before your mouths caught up. "Best case?" you asked, half-jogging for the stairs. "He leaves with context," Sunghoon said. "Worst case—" "Viral." You didn't have to say it. It was already vibrating in the air. The Student Union atrium was a live wire. A knot of students had formed by the bulletin wall where flyers layered like geological strata. In the middle: Jake, jacket off, sleeves rolled, trying to smile without looking smug. Across from him: a junior you recognized from a rival campaign's volunteer Slack, arms crossed, chin up. Phones hovered in the edges of your vision like insects.

"...I laughed because the number was wrong," Jake was saying, hands open in what he probably thought was a friendly gesture. "I wasn't laughing at anyone—" "It sounded like you were laughing at us," the junior shot back. "At people who need that funding."

"Which is exactly why we're clarifying it," you said, stepping into the circle before the room could decide you weren't invited. The phones swiveled. Sunghoon arrived at your shoulder like a shadow that had learned to stand upright. "You're Y/N, right?" the junior asked, tone sharpened by an audience. "The one who wants to 'reallocate' anything that isn't nailed down?" "Cute," you said, smiling just enough to look like you'd slept since 2019. "The minutes are public. We posted them. I recommended moving unused grant money to save live programs. The board voted no. I didn't take a penny from anyone." "It sounds like a loophole." "It was a loophole," you said cheerfully. "A legal one that would have kept two student showcases alive. You can dislike it. That's fair. Saying I stole something is not." A murmur. A few nods. Jake relaxed a fraction you could measure with a microscope. "Also," you added, tipping your head at the junior's phone, "if you're recording, please include the part where I asked for a post-mortem to design a better grant rubric next semester. I love being quoted in full sentences." A small ripple of laughter. Sunghoon didn't laugh. But you felt the heat of his attention turn toward you, eyes steady, pride threaded through the quiet like he'd wrapped it in brown paper so it wouldn't look like a gift. "Look," Jake said, tone softening, "if I sounded like a jerk last semester, I'm sorry. We're not above apologizing when we step on toes. That's why we're doing the open Q&A hours. Ask anything; we'll pull the receipts."

Silence stretched, thinner, less hostile. The junior's jaw worked, ready to fire again — and then the crowd shifted for a new arrival. Theo. Of course it was Theo — baseball cap reversed, grin a few watts brighter than necessary, the guy who managed to smell like gum and gym at the same time. He clocked the ring of phones, the angle of attention, and saw a stage. "Y/N," he said, surprised and not surprised, like the universe had aligned itself to be generous to him. "Didn't think I'd see you running comms for a meme candidate."

"Hi, Theo," you said. "Still mistaking volume for charm?" Somewhere in your peripheral vision, Yunjin appeared, leaned against a column, and whispered god, I love when you're mean.

Theo laughed, big and bright, like he'd decided you hadn't just insulted him in front of an audience. "I liked your debate answer," he said, stepping closer than necessary. "Passionate. You always were." Sunghoon didn't move. But the air around him did. It wasn't obvious. He didn't puff up or step in or do anything idiotic. He just... focused. The way a hawk focuses when the field gets interesting. His jaw set, a muscle ticking once. His hands slid into his pockets because that's what he did when he was deciding not to do something else. Theo kept talking. "You remember the group project?" he asked, angling himself so his shoulder brushed yours. "How we carried the team?" "You mean the one where I did the work and you put your name on the slides?" you said, brightly. "Exactly, teamwork," he said, unbothered. "We should catch up." "We're catching up now." "In private." "She's busy," Sunghoon said, so calm it was almost gentle.

Theo turned, blinked like he hadn't noticed there was another person in the conversation. He took in Sunghoon's rolled sleeves, the clean lines, the eyes that did not blink back, and went for a smile that didn't reach anything soft. "And you are?"

"Opposition research," Sunghoon said. "Of a student election," Theo drawled, impressed in the way people are when they think they've found a joke they can keep forever. "Bro, touch grass." "I did," Sunghoon said, voice like cool water over stone. "It was easy. No one was standing too close to it.” The crowd's laughter broke like a small wave. Theo's smile faltered. Your cheeks hurt from not smiling. Yunjin put a hand over her mouth like she was praying for restraint. Jake, god bless him, whispered bro. to himself like a benediction.

Theo rallied. "Hey, man, relax. We're all just—" His phone pinged. He looked down, frowned, then recovered so fast you could see the thread. "Anyway. Y/N, I'm hosting an after-event at Vespa's tonight. You should swing by. We can talk... about ethics." "Pass," you said, sweet as frosting. "Bring your bodyguard," he added, a little too loud. Sunghoon's mouth didn't move. His eyes did — from Theo back to you, down to your hand where your fingers had curled into your palm, back up. Then he tipped his chin a millimeter, as if to ask a question only you could hear: You good?

You uncurl your hand. I'm good. The junior volunteer cleared her throat. "So... are we done yelling?" "We were never yelling," you said. "We were practicing literacy." "Hot," someone said. "Thank you," Yunjin replied automatically. The knot loosened. Phones lowered. Jake launched into a gentle explanation of grant structure, the crowd thinning as curiosity was fed. Theo drifted away, remembering somewhere he had to be, and the atrium's noise reshaped itself into normal campus chaos. You were left standing at the edge of it all, adrenaline ebbing, Sunghoon still at your shoulder, the line of his body stretched taut with a tension you knew had nothing to do with policy. "You didn't have to do that," you said eventually, once the worst of the heat had dissipated.

"Do what?" he asked, too innocent. "Humiliate a man with a hat." He considered. "It seemed efficient." You huffed out a laugh. The backs of your hands brushed — the smallest thing — and your body misfiled it as newsworthy. You could feel your pulse where your wrist touched your sleeve. You could feel his pulse in the tautness of his silence. "Also," he added, softer, "I didn't like him standing that close to you." You should have teased him. You didn't. "I didn't either," you said. A beat. Two. "Good," he said, and it landed heavy and warm and close to mine without being foolish enough to say it aloud in a lobby with witnesses. A door banged somewhere up the stairwell; the atrium breathed back into motion. Yunjin peeled off the column and joined you with the brisk satisfaction of a general whose side won the skirmish.

"You were perfect," she told you, then looked at Sunghoon. "And you were... frightening. In a useful way." "Thank you," he said, like she'd offered him an award for Best Quiet Menace. She glanced between you, eyes narrowed in fond suspicion. "If you two are going to fall in love, please do it on my schedule so I can live-tweet it."

"Never," you said. "Soon," she corrected, then drifted away, already texting three people and the future. Jake reappeared, flushed and triumphant. "Well, we didn't die." "Low bar, achieved, you said, passing him a bottle of water. He drank like he'd been digging trenches, then saluted you with the cap. "Next," he said, energized, "I film a goofy montage with the film club—" "No instruments," you and Sunghoon said at the same time. "Wow," Jake said solemnly. "You are one terrifying brain." "We're two brains," you said. "I stand by my sentence," Jake said, backing away before either of you could parent him harder.

When it was just the two of you again at the edge of the railing, the atrium quieter, the taste of confrontation finally fading from your tongue, you realized the burn in your chest wasn't just adrenaline. It was want. It had been building for days, a steady, sweet pressure. It felt concentrated now, an ache that made simple things — like the clean line of his throat when he swallowed, like the way his forearms flexed when he slid his hands back out of his pockets — unbearably specific. He felt it too. You could tell by the way he looked at you: not possessive, not greedy — just decided. Like he'd reached an answer he trusted.

"Tonight," he said quietly, as if testing the shape of the word. You tilted your head. "Tonight?" "Jake's filming ends at nine." He held your gaze, steady, sure. "Meet me after." Your mouth went dry. "Where?" He thought for a second, then smiled the smallest, sharpest smile. "Somewhere people won't ask us about PDFs." "Impossible," you said, but your pulse had already said yes. His phone buzzed, slicing the moment neatly. He glanced at it, jaw tightening, and for a flicker you saw something heavier — a name he didn't want to see, a conversation he didn't want to have. He swiped the notification away. Whatever that was — the thing you were going to name later — he set it aside without denting the present. "Go," you said, nodding toward the stairwell. "Before Jake brands the printer."

"He already did," he said, and you groaned because of course there were stickers. You started toward the stairs together. Halfway down the landing, a familiar voice cut across the space again — Theo, somewhere below, laughing with a friend. You felt Sunghoon feel it — not with his shoulders or his mouth, but with something you could almost see: a quiet flare, as controlled as everything else about him and twice as hot for being contained. It wasn't ugly. It wasn't petty. It was jealousy shaped like focus — a small, sharpened thing that turned his attention to you and asked a single, private question: Are you mine to worry about?

You didn't say yes. You didn't have to. The way you leaned a little closer as you walked, the way your sleeve brushed his wrist and stayed — that was answer enough for now. You reached the bottom step. Students flowed around you like a river around two stones. He didn't touch you, not where anyone could see. He didn't need to. The promise was already humming between you, steady as a heartbeat. "Tonight," he said again, softer. You met his eyes. "Tonight." And just like that, the fuse was lit.

_______

You found him exactly where you knew he'd be. The quad had emptied to a soft hum — a couple walking their bikes, a lone skateboarder rolling past the library steps, the faint echo of Jake's laughter from somewhere in the film club's orbit. And under the oldest oak, half in shadow, Sunghoon leaned against the bench like he'd been standing there a while, hands in his pockets, the night turning the clean lines of his shirt and trousers into something you couldn't stop looking at.

He saw you and straightened, slow, like the moment itself deserved patience. "You came," he said quietly. "You asked," you said, equally quiet. There was no warm-up. No small talk. You walked toward each other until you were close enough to share the same patch of air, and something in that proximity made your chest ache in a way nothing else did. He glanced down once, as if to check you were real, then back up with that same intent you'd seen all day — the kind that felt like a decision. "How was Jake's shoot?" he asked, voice low enough that it seemed meant for the space between you. "Chaotic," you said. "He almost broke a tripod." "I'm shocked." "You shouldn't be." His mouth quirked — but only for a second. Then the smile faded, replaced by something heavier. "My father called," he said. Not dramatic. Not leading. Just a fact laid between you. You didn't rush him. You just nodded once, the kind that meant go on. "He saw the debate clip. Said I was wasting my time here." A pause. "Said I sounded like him."

"That's... not the worst insult," you said gently. "It was," Sunghoon said, and there was no bitterness in it — just truth. "He's the reason I learned to win every argument. Losing wasn't an option in that house." Something twisted in your chest. "That sounds exhausting." "It was," he said. His eyes flicked to yours, searching. "It is." For a moment, you thought he might stop there. But then he exhaled and kept going, voice dipping like a secret. "You make it... different. I don't have to fight you to be heard. But I still want to win with you. That's—" He broke off, almost smiling at himself. "That's new."

Your hand moved before you thought about it, brushing a stray piece of hair back from his forehead. He didn't flinch. He just let you, eyes fixed on yours like the contact grounded him. And then his gaze dropped — slow — to your mouth. Your heart was loud now, loud enough you were sure he could feel it. You could see the moment his breath caught, the faint parting of his lips. His hand came up, fingers curling near your face before he actually touched you — like he was asking permission without saying it. When his thumb brushed your cheekbone, it was almost careful. When it skimmed the corner of your mouth, it wasn't. The pad of his thumb traced your lower lip, lingering there like he was memorizing the shape. He was still looking at you, but his lashes had dropped slightly, the weight of his focus slipping lower. When his thumb pressed gently, sliding along the seam of your lips until it was inside — just barely — you inhaled sharply.

You didn't suck on it. Not exactly. But your tongue brushed the inside edge in a way that made his breath hitch hard enough for you to feel it. His mouth curved — not a smile, something hungrier. And then he leaned in. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't clumsy. It was inevitable. The first touch of his mouth to yours was warm and patient, like he'd been rehearsing restraint for weeks and wanted you to feel every second of it breaking. His lips were soft, but the pressure built almost immediately — the tilt of his head deepening the kiss, his free hand finding your jaw, anchoring you closer. You tasted the faint hint of mint, felt the quiet sound he made in the back of his throat when you kissed him back.

When his tongue brushed yours, it was unhurried, but there was nothing innocent about it. His thumb was still at your mouth, sliding down to your chin as if he couldn't bear to stop touching you there. He kissed like he thought about it — like every movement was a choice, deliberate and exact, even when it was messy. By the time you pulled back, the space between you felt charged, the kind of air you could only breathe in small, measured doses.

"That," he said, voice low and a little rough, "was overdue." You laughed — breathless, not mocking. "We're going to have to talk about this." "I know." His thumb grazed your jaw again, lighter now. "Later." "Later," you agreed. But neither of you moved away. You just stood there, in the quiet, letting the fact of it — the kiss, the want, the love neither of you had said aloud yet — settle in like it belonged.

______

The next morning, campus had that electricity it only got after a major event — not quite celebration, not quite chaos, but something buzzing just under the skin of every conversation.

The results of Jake's campaign had been posted an hour ago, plastered on noticeboards and pinging phones in a thousand different group chats. The quad was already crowded; students were pretending to sip coffee while openly staring at anyone connected to the race. You'd been bracing yourself for this — the awkward congratulations, the curious stares — but what you hadn't prepared for was how different it felt walking into this atmosphere after last night.

Because last night, you kissed Park Sunghoon. And he kissed you back. It wasn't awkward now. If anything, it made everything sharper. The moment you spotted him across the quad, standing near the railing with a coffee in one hand and the morning sun catching on the sharp line of his jaw, it was like your pulse knew before your mind did. He looked up. Found you instantly. And just like that, it was back — that warm pull, that silent conversation in a single glance. You didn't look away. Neither did he.

---

Jake was the first to break the moment. "Manager!" he called, barreling toward you with a grin that looked a little too practiced. "We did it. Well — I did it. But you were there, so." You rolled your eyes, but the relief in his voice was obvious. "Congratulations, Jake." "Thanks." He lowered his voice. "Also, small crisis — someone's already making memes about me crying at the end of my speech last night. I wasn't crying, I was—" "Getting emotional?" you suggested. "—allergic to the podium wood," he finished flatly. You snorted, but before you could reply, Yunjin appeared from behind him, sipping her own coffee. "Or maybe you were thinking about how Y/N and Sunghoon were basically eye-fucking during your victory speech." Jake choked on his drink. "Excuse me?!" You didn't bother dignifying it with a response, but you caught the way Sunghoon — who had walked over by now — simply tilted his head and smiled, like Yunjin had said something he'd been thinking all morning.

---

The real chaos began fifteen minutes later, when word spread about a new petition. Some student committee — completely separate from the campaign — was pushing to ban the administration from monitoring student social media. The admins claimed it was "safety compliance." Everyone else called it censorship. And because you and Sunghoon had been so visible in the last few weeks, you were now "perfect neutral faces" for the press to grab for a quote. "Neutral faces?" Yunjin muttered as you, Sunghoon, Jake, and a couple other committee reps got ushered into a prep room. "That's hilarious." The prep room was cramped — one long desk, too many chairs, stacks of printed talking points. You ended up next to Sunghoon, shoulders brushing every time someone squeezed past. He smelled faintly of coffee and something sharper, clean — the kind of scent that clung to his collar and made you wonder what it would be like to lean in just a little closer. He was quieter than usual, listening more than speaking, but you could feel his attention. Even while Jake argued with one of the committee reps about phrasing, you could sense Sunghoon's gaze flicking toward you whenever you spoke. At one point, you leaned forward to reach a folder near the center of the table. The neckline of your blouse dipped, and you didn't notice until his voice faltered mid-sentence. It was barely a pause — anyone else might have missed it — but you felt it. You glanced at him. He was looking down at the papers in front of him now, jaw set, ears faintly pink. You bit back a smile. "Distracted?" you murmured when the others' conversation got louder. His eyes cut to you, slow, deliberate. "Not the word I'd use." It was nothing explicit, not here in a room full of people — but it was enough to leave your heart kicking against your ribs.

--

The meeting dissolved into a kind of semi-organized chaos, people shuffling papers and exchanging hurried plans. You and Sunghoon ended up pushed to one corner, sorting through rebuttal cards for the student media interviews scheduled for later. Every time your fingers brushed his, he didn't pull away. At one point, your knees bumped under the table. Neither of you moved. "You're still thinking about it," you said softly, not even sure why you were daring enough to say it. His eyes found yours again. Steady. "You're assuming I ever stopped." The air felt heavier then — not tense in the way it had been weeks ago, but charged. Like something between you had shifted permanently and neither of you were pretending otherwise anymore.

--

By the time the committee wrapped and everyone filed out, Jake was yelling something about ordering lunch for everyone, Yunjin was muttering about how "your sexual tension is killing my productivity," and Sunghoon was holding the door open for you with the faintest, most infuriating smile. "See you at the interviews?" he asked, voice low enough that it was just for you. You nodded. "Try not to get... distracted." The corner of his mouth curved higher. "No promises."

________

The campus media building was a mess of wires, mic stands, and too many interns pretending they had authority. You and Sunghoon had been ushered into a waiting area for the interviews, the kind with cheap fabric chairs and a coffee table stacked with magazines nobody read.

The space was too small for the number of people crammed inside. Jake sat in the far corner, reviewing his talking points with all the focus of someone about to go on national television rather than a campus broadcast. Yunjin, of course, had found the lone empty swivel chair and was spinning idly, watching the chaos with open amusement.

You ended up seated next to Sunghoon again, not because you wanted to — okay, maybe a little because you wanted to — but because the only other seat was directly under an ancient air vent spewing freezing air. Your knees bumped the second you sat down. This time, neither of you shifted.

--

The low murmur of voices filled the room, but all you could hear was the even sound of his breathing beside you. When you glanced over, you found him leaning back in the chair, one arm draped along the backrest — not quite touching you, but close enough that you could feel the ghost of heat from his sleeve. "Comfortable?" you asked under your breath. "Getting there," he murmured, eyes still fixed on the far wall. "Could be warmer, though." "You could've taken the vent seat." His gaze slid to you then, slow enough to feel deliberate. "This one's better." You knew exactly what he meant, and the way his lips almost — almost — twitched into a smirk made you want to kick him under the table. Instead, you crossed your legs, the movement making your skirt shift higher along your thighs.

His eyes dropped for a fraction of a second before returning to your face. "Distracted?" you echoed from earlier. He didn't look away. "Not the word I'd use." Yunjin's voice cut through the quiet between you. "Okay, am I the only one watching this? Or are we all just pretending they're not about to—" "Yunjin," Jake warned without looking up. She grinned, leaning toward the both of you. "Fine, fine. But if you two start making out in the green room, I'm charging admission." Your cheeks warmed, but Sunghoon's only reaction was to reach for the stack of cue cards between you. His hand brushed yours — and stayed there just a little longer than necessary.

--

The first interview slot opened, and chaos erupted again. Jake was pulled into makeup, Yunjin got cornered by a tech about lighting cues, and somehow you and Sunghoon ended up sent to a cramped side room to "coordinate messaging." It was barely the size of a storage closet, with a single desk, two chairs, and an overhead light that buzzed faintly.

You sat across from him, knees knocking under the table as you sifted through the cards. The room was warm enough that you felt heat gathering at the base of your neck, and you caught him looking at you in the kind of way that made it impossible to focus on the printed words in front of you. "What?" you asked finally, leaning back in your chair. He tilted his head slightly. "Just... thinking about last night." Your pulse kicked. "And?" "And wondering why we stopped."

--

You froze for half a second — not because you didn't have an answer, but because the way he said it was so... calm. Like it was just a fact, as obvious as the desk between you. "I think we got interrupted," you said, keeping your tone light even though your heart was pounding. His mouth curved slightly. "We did." For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of the light and the shuffle of cards between your fingers. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your mouth and back again. "You have coffee on your lip," he murmured. You were about to reach up, but he beat you to it — his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. Not hard, not lingering... just enough to make your breath hitch. And then he pulled back like nothing happened, flipping a card over. "So, question three..." You exhaled slowly, pretending to read along while trying not to think about how his touch still burned on your skin.

________

The interview was supposed to be harmless. Student-run, low stakes, barely ten minutes of airtime. And yet, the second the host leaned forward, smile syrup-sweet, and said —

"So, Y/N, you and Jake make such a charismatic team... anything more going on there?" — you knew you were in trouble. You laughed it off, shaking your head. "Strictly professional." But the host wasn't done.

"Shame. You two have great chemistry." From the corner of your eye, you saw Sunghoon's expression shift — almost imperceptibly, but enough for you to catch the way his jaw ticked, the subtle lean forward like he wanted to cut in.

--

Fifteen minutes later, you were backstage, weaving between coiled cables and stacked equipment. The muffled noise of the next segment filtered through the curtain. "Nice save in there," you said, glancing back at him. "Didn't know you could keep a straight face through that much nonsense." He didn't smile.

In two strides, he was right in front of you, the narrow hallway forcing you back until your shoulder blades brushed the wall. His hands stayed at his sides, but his presence was everywhere. "You think that was funny?" His voice was low, almost calm — except for the thread of heat running under it. You blinked up at him. "What?" "Hearing some guy tell you you have 'chemistry' with someone else." His gaze dragged down your face, lingering on your mouth. "While I'm sitting right there."

--

You swallowed. "It was an interview, Sunghoon. They were fishing." "I don't care what they were doing." He took a step closer. You could feel his breath now, warm against your cheek. "You have no idea what it's like, sitting there, watching you smile at someone else like that." "That was my polite smile." His mouth curved — not in amusement, but something darker. "Don't care. I don't like sharing it." Before you could answer, his hand came up, fingers brushing your jaw, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch lingered, tracing down until his thumb skimmed the corner of your mouth. "You keep doing this to me," he murmured. "Sitting there, looking at me like you're not doing anything wrong, when all I can think about is how you'd taste."

--

Your breath caught as his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, just enough to make it part. "Open," he said softly.

You did. His thumb slid inside — slow, deliberate — until it rested on your tongue. He watched the way your lips closed around it, the faint scrape of your teeth. "God," he exhaled, eyes locked on yours. "You're killing me." You didn't suck, exactly, but your tongue curled just enough against the pad of his thumb to make his breath hitch. His other hand braced against the wall beside your head, caging you in. "You like teasing me?" he asked, voice rougher now. "Maybe." He huffed a laugh, low and filthy. "One day, I'm not gonna stop at this. One day, I'm gonna have you so deep in it you won't remember anyone else's name but mine."

--

A voice called from down the hall — Jake, asking if you were ready for the next photo op. Sunghoon's thumb slipped from your mouth, his hand falling back to his side like nothing happened. But his eyes... his eyes said everything. "Later," he murmured, stepping back just enough to let you pass. "We're not done."

________

The ride back from the interviews was quiet in the way that makes silence feel like a touch.

Yunjin was on her phone, Jake was reading messages, and you... you were stealing glances at the boy sitting beside you, the one whose thumb had been in your mouth less than half an hour ago. He didn't look at you once. But his hand was fisted loosely on his knee, knuckles pale, like he was holding something in.

--

When the van pulled up to the campaign office, you expected him to bolt. Instead, he waited until Jake and Yunjin headed inside, then caught your wrist as you stepped onto the pavement. "Come with me," he murmured. No explanation, no hesitation — just the quiet press of his fingers around yours as he led you down the side of the building, out of sight. The air was cooler here, the streetlights throwing soft halos across the brick wall. He stopped, turning to face you. His chest rose and fell faster than normal, eyes darting over your face like he was memorizing it. "I tried to wait," he said, voice rough, almost hoarse. "I can't."

--

Before you could answer, his hand cupped the side of your neck, pulling you in — and then his mouth was on yours, hard. It wasn't sweet this time. It was messy. Desperate. Your lips parted immediately under the pressure, and his tongue was there, hot and insistent, licking into your mouth like he'd been holding this back for years. The taste of him was dizzying — coffee, mint, something entirely him — and the quiet, wrecked noise he made into your mouth made your knees weaken.

He pressed you back against the wall, body angled over yours, one arm braced beside your head. The other slid around your waist, pulling you flush to him until you could feel the pounding of his heart against your ribs. When he pulled back for air, it was only far enough to bite your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth until you gasped. His tongue followed, soothing the sting, and then he was kissing you again, wetter this time — spit-slick and filthy, like neither of you cared about breathing. You moaned into his mouth, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer. That sound undid him. His hand tightened at your waist, dragging you fully against him, hips nearly touching. You felt, more than heard, the groan that rumbled in his chest. "I'm—" he broke off, kissing you again, deeper, slower this time, like he wanted to sink into you. "—so far gone for you." You felt it in the way his thumb stroked the hollow of your hip, the way his lips kept finding yours like he couldn't bear to stop, the way he breathed your name between kisses like it was a prayer.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were panting, foreheads pressed together. A thin string of spit still connected your mouths before it broke, and you swore you saw his pupils dilate at the sight. He smiled then — small, crooked, completely unguarded. "Now I'm in trouble," he murmured.

"Why?" you whispered. "Because I'm in love with you, and I don't think I can hide it anymore."

______

The next morning felt different in a way that wasn't loud.

You didn't announce anything, didn't come in holding hands, didn't sit closer than usual. But apparently, the air between you and Sunghoon had decided to write its own press release, because Jake and Yunjin noticed within ten minutes.

You were standing by the campaign office coffee station, still running on too little sleep after last night's prep session, when Sunghoon passed behind you to grab the sugar. His hand ghosted over your back — not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for you to feel the heat of it. Jake noticed. His brows went up, and he bit back a smile, glancing between you and Sunghoon like he'd just walked in on the middle of a rom-com plot twist.

--

"Morning," Sunghoon said to the group, voice neutral. But when his eyes landed on you, there was that look — the one you'd only seen in the quiet corner last night when he'd kissed you like he was memorizing how you breathed. Yunjin wasn't as subtle as Jake.

She leaned back in her chair, pen between her teeth, and stared. "Okay. What's going on here?" "Nothing," you said too quickly, reaching for your coffee. Jake snorted. "Yeah, sure. Because 'nothing' looks exactly like you two making intense eye contact like you're about to... what's the word? Ah. Ravish each other." You choked on your sip, coughing. "Jake—" Sunghoon, bless him, looked away like maybe if he avoided eye contact with anyone but you, this conversation would cease to exist. His ears, however, had turned the faintest shade of red.

--

Yunjin leaned forward, her grin pure mischief. "Oh, this is so good. First the whole 'opposite sides of the campaign' thing, now whatever this is... I'm telling you, Jake, the voters love a good love story." Jake tilted his head, still grinning at you. "Mm-hmm. And does this love story come with an R-rating?" You gave him a look sharp enough to slice paper. "If you don't shut up, I'll reroute all your campaign emails to spam." That made him laugh, but his gaze flicked to Sunghoon. "Take care of her, man." It was joking, but there was weight under it. Sunghoon finally looked up, meeting Jake's eyes. "I do." Simple. Firm. The air went still for a beat before Yunjin clapped her hands. "Alright, alright, lovebirds, let's get back to the actual work before I start narrating this like a reality TV confessional."

--

The rest of the morning was business as usual — or at least, it tried to be. But every time you passed Sunghoon a file, your fingers brushed. Every time you leaned over his desk to look at something, his eyes lingered just a second too long. By the time Jake and Yunjin left for a lunch meeting across town, the office felt empty in a way that made your pulse jump. You were alone now. Sunghoon stood by the window, jacket off, tie loosened. His eyes followed you as you crossed the room, and there was a quiet, dangerous curve to his mouth that told you exactly where this was going.

_______

By the time you managed to escape for lunch, Yunjin had you cornered in one of the smaller break rooms. She shut the door behind her like she was about to interrogate a high-value witness. "Alright," she said, planting her hands on the table between you. "Spill. I'm not talking vague. I want details." You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "It was just—" "Don't you dare say 'just a kiss.'" She pointed a finger at you. "Because the way Sunghoon has been looking at you all morning? That was not a PG-13 peck." Heat rose in your cheeks before you could stop it. "Fine. It... wasn't exactly gentle." Yunjin grinned like she'd just hit the jackpot. "Define 'wasn't gentle.'" You hesitated, then gave up trying to downplay it. "It was... rough. Not in a bad way — in a God, I've been waiting for this forever way. He kissed me like he didn't want to stop breathing me in." You shook your head, biting your lip at the memory. "There was... a lot of saliva. Lip biting. His hands were—" You stopped, realizing you were practically giving her a play-by-play. "Oh, no, keep going," she urged, sliding into the seat across from you like she was settling in for a movie.

"They were in my hair, pulling me closer. And at one point..." You swallowed. "He pulled back just enough to look at me, and he said—" "What?" she demanded. You took a deep breath. "That he's in love with me." Yunjin froze for half a second, then slapped the table so hard you jumped. "HE WHAT?!" You laughed nervously, rubbing your hands together. "Yeah. And I didn't say it back. Not because I didn't want to, but because I was... shocked. I mean, I am in love with him. I've been in love with him. But I just—" "—completely short-circuited," she finished for you, still looking like she was about to combust. "Oh my God. You're telling him back, right? Right?" "I will," you promised, a smile tugging at your lips. "Soon. I want it to be... right." She leaned back, fanning herself. "When you do, you'd better hope I'm not around, because I will scream. That man is gone for you. Like, clinically." You laughed, but the truth of it settled warm in your chest. He was gone for you. And soon, you'd tell him you were just as gone for him.

______

It was supposed to be nothing more than study prep.

Sunghoon had offered to stop by after dinner to help you review a few points for Jake's next campaign appearance — he had the opposition's talking points down to muscle memory, and you... well, you were better with coffee and highlighters than you were with statistics under pressure. You didn't even realize how much you'd cleaned until you heard the knock on your door. The apartment didn't look like you lived there — bed neatly made, pillows fluffed, faint candle burning on the nightstand. The living room had been a lost cause (you had too many notes spread out), so you'd resigned yourself to working in your bedroom. When you opened the door, Sunghoon stood there with his jacket over one arm, sleeves rolled to his forearms, hair a little mussed from the wind. His eyes scanned you quickly — in that way he did where it felt like he was memorizing something before you could hide it — and then flicked past you to the tidy bed. "You've been cleaning," he said, lips twitching. "You've been imagining things," you countered, stepping aside to let him in. He smirked just enough to make your pulse skip and followed you inside.

--

Ten minutes later, you were both cross-legged on your bed, papers spread between you. You were trying to explain your outline for Jake's response strategy when you noticed Sunghoon leaning back against the headboard, listening — or at least pretending to. "What?" you asked when you caught him staring. "Nothing," he said, too quickly. "Just... you talk with your hands a lot." You rolled your eyes, tossing a pen at him. "You're impossible." "I'm observant," he corrected, catching the pen without looking away from you. "And you're avoiding my notes." "I'm not avoiding—" you started, but his grin told you he knew exactly how much you were.

--

The banter kept up like that — soft jabs, quick comebacks, the kind of easy rhythm that had been building for weeks. You were laughing at something he said when he reached over to tug gently at the sleeve of your shirt, a wordless signal to move closer so you could both look at the same page. You did — but your knees bumped. Stayed there.

He didn't move his. His voice dipped just slightly as he asked, "You always let people take over your space like this?" You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Only when they bring decent notes." "Mm." His gaze held yours a beat too long. "Guess I'll have to keep showing up, then."

You meant to laugh it off, but the air felt different now — slower, thicker. The paper in front of you was suddenly irrelevant.

He reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just long enough to make you shiver. "You're distracted," he murmured. "I wonder whose fault that is," you whispered back. His eyes softened, but there was something hungrier under it now. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, then traced along your jaw, and you swore you saw his breath hitch before his gaze dropped to your mouth. "What are you thinking about?" you asked quietly. He hesitated, then gave you the truth, low and unsteady. "Last night. The way you tasted. The way you looked at me." Your chest tightened, heat pooling low in your stomach. "You're not supposed to distract me." He smirked faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes this time — those stayed locked on you like you were the only thing worth noticing. "Not supposed to, but I want to." The words sat between you for a second before he leaned forward, thumb brushing your bottom lip. This time, it wasn't just a graze — he pressed gently until your lips parted, the pad of his thumb sliding into your mouth.

Your tongue met his touch instinctively, tracing the warm skin, and his jaw tightened.

He didn't break eye contact, watching you as you flicked the tip of your tongue over the edge of his thumb. "God," he muttered, almost under his breath, "you're gonna kill me." The thumb withdrew, but his hand didn't leave your face — it tilted your chin up, his fingers threading into your hair. You could feel him leaning in, slow enough for you to stop him if you wanted to. You didn't. His mouth found yours in a kiss that was... devastating. Not gentle, not rushed — deliberate. Lips parting, pulling, tasting, biting just enough to make you gasp into him. His other hand found your thigh, squeezing lightly before sliding higher, and you couldn't stop the soft sound that escaped you. He swallowed it in the next kiss, pressing you back against the pillows like he needed you closer than this bed would allow.

_______

His mouth left yours just long enough to trail kisses down the side of your neck, the kind that started soft but got bolder when he heard the change in your breathing. "Sensitive here?" he murmured against your throat, and before you could answer, his teeth grazed the skin just above your pulse point. You gasped, clutching at his shoulders, nails curling into the cotton of his shirt. He grinned against your neck — you could feel it — and muttered, "Noted." When he pulled back to look at you, his eyes were darker now, almost glossy with how much he wanted you. His hand slid into your hair, curling just enough to tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to him. You laughed breathlessly. "You're enjoying this way too much."

He smirked, thumb brushing over your jaw. "And you're not?"

Before you could answer, his mouth was on you again, this time deeper, filthier — a kiss that left your lips tingling. You felt his hand slide from your hair to cup the back of your neck, holding you there while his tongue swept against yours. The control in the way he moved you was enough to make your stomach flip. When he finally pulled back, his breath was unsteady. "You have no idea what you're doing to me." "Maybe I do," you whispered, and his eyes flashed with something primal.

That was the moment his hand trailed lower, over your side, past your hip, until his palm was resting on your thigh. He squeezed once, then slid his hand higher, fingers tracing the edge of your shorts before brushing over the thin fabric of your panties. Your breath caught — it was barely a touch, but it sent a rush straight through you. He glanced up at you, gauging your reaction, and when you didn't pull away, his fingers pressed just slightly harder. "Already warm," he said quietly, almost to himself, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

He started slow, just moving his fingers over you in lazy circles, the fabric catching against your skin in a way that made you squirm. You tried to bite back the sound in your throat, but his other hand tangled back in your hair, holding you steady. "Don't hide it from me," he murmured. Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping as his movements grew more deliberate, the heel of his palm pressing where you needed it most. Every so often, he'd kiss you again — quick, hungry pecks between touches, like he couldn't decide which he wanted more.

______

The lazy circles he'd been tracing over you suddenly picked up speed — not a gradual build, just a shift into something faster, hungrier. Your gasp turned into a broken sound, head tipping back against the wall behind your bed, but Sunghoon didn't stop. He leaned in, his forehead almost brushing yours, eyes locked on your face like he wanted to memorize every reaction. "You like that?" he asked, voice low and rough. Your answer was a shaky nod, but he didn't seem satisfied — his fingers pressed harder through the fabric, moving so quickly the friction made your thighs tremble. Your breath came in shallow bursts, your mouth falling open, and his eyes flicked down to it before dragging back up to meet yours.

The look in them was devastating — all soft devotion tangled with raw need, like he couldn't decide whether to worship you or ruin you. "God, you're—" He cut himself off, biting his lip, then leaning forward to kiss you hard. It wasn't sweet. It was all teeth and tongue, his mouth claiming yours while his hand worked you over mercilessly. The sound of the fabric dragging against you filled the air between gasps and muffled moans. Your hips started to move with his hand, chasing the pressure, and that was all it took for him to lose the last bit of composure. His own hips pressed into yours, the hard line of him grinding against your thigh. You felt him — solid, unyielding — and it made your eyes flutter shut for a second. When you opened them again, he was watching you with that wrecked expression, jaw clenched, breathing ragged. "Look at me," he said quietly, almost pleading, his hand never slowing. You did, and it was like something broke in him. His forehead pressed to yours again, his hips moving with a sharp rhythm as his fingers kept up their relentless pace. Every stroke made your eyes roll back, your mouth parting helplessly. You tried to form words, but they dissolved into little moans that only spurred him on. He groaned under his breath, the sound vibrating against your lips. "You're so wet for me, even like this..." His thumb dragged harder, faster, over the exact spot that made you jolt.

You felt his breathing hitch — every time your body reacted, his hips ground into you harder, like he couldn't help it. The heat of him, the rhythm of his touch, the way his gaze burned into you — it was dizzying. When your hand fisted in the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, his lips brushed your ear. "You have no idea how much I want you right now." And the way he said it — not a tease, not a joke — made you believe it down to your bones.

______

The second you tugged at his shirt like you couldn't take any more, something in him shifted — a decision, quick and irreversible. Without breaking eye contact, Sunghoon slid his hand down between your thighs again, this time slipping under the waistband of your shorts and panties in one motion. The first touch of his fingers against your bare skin was enough to make you gasp, your hips jerking forward into him. "Fuck—" he breathed out, low and shaky, staring down at where his hand had disappeared. "You're dripping."

He didn't ease you in. Two fingers pushed inside immediately, the stretch deep and rough, making your mouth fall open. His thumb settled perfectly against your clit, pressing in a tight circle before dragging hard. You clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in, and he kissed you again — a filthy, wet kiss that swallowed the moan you let out when his fingers curled just right inside you. "Say it," he murmured against your lips, voice breaking with arousal. "Say you want me to fuck you with my fingers." Your answer was half a whimper, half a plea: "I want it."

He didn't just give it to you — he took it from you. His pace turned brutal, his fingers driving into you over and over, the wet sounds of it filling the room.

Your head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, and he immediately tangled his free hand in your hair, pulling just enough to make you look at him. "Don't hide from me," he said, almost desperate. "I want to see every fucking second of it." You could barely hold his gaze with the way his fingers were hitting that spot deep inside you, his thumb rubbing faster on your clit until your thighs trembled. Every time you clenched around him, his jaw tightened and his breathing got harsher. "That's it. Take it for me, baby." When you let out a shaky "Sunghoon—" his thumb pressed harder, and the pressure in your stomach snapped — but before you could fall apart completely, he pulled his fingers out. The loss made you whine, but then you realized why — he was moving down, pushing you back against the bed. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open, and his eyes met yours from between them — dark, starving, and entirely in love. "I've wanted to taste you since the first time you fucking smiled at me," he admitted, voice rough with honesty. Then his mouth was on you.

It wasn't tentative — it was possession. His tongue dragged through you slowly at first, savoring the taste, before focusing on your clit with relentless flicks that made your hips jerk. He groaned into you when you gripped his hair, the vibration making you gasp. "God, you taste so good," he said between licks, voice muffled against you. "Sweet, warm—fuck, I could stay here all night." You couldn't think — not with his tongue circling and sucking, not with his hands pinning your hips down when you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure. When his eyes looked up at you, his mouth still working you, the sight alone made your chest tighten. "Tell me you're mine," he said, pulling back just long enough to breathe, lips shiny and wet. "I'm yours," you managed, voice breaking. His smirk was pure heat. "Then come on my tongue and let me prove it."

___________

The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue on you filled the quiet of your room, each flick against your clit making your thighs shake harder.

He didn't hold back — the flat of his tongue would press broad and slow against you one second, then the tip would circle and tap right on the swollen bundle of nerves the next. Every movement made the slick between you louder, wetter, and he was eating up every second of it.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned into you, lips sealing around your clit as he sucked hard enough to make your eyes roll back. The sound was filthy, like he wanted to drain every bit of you onto his tongue. He'd pause for just a second to breathe, letting his hot breath ghost over you before dragging his tongue upward again. "You're so sensitive... you twitch every time I touch you here," he said, flicking the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit until your hips lifted off the bed. Your moans were shameless now, spilling out between sharp gasps as he kept you pinned down. Every lick was followed by a low hum, like he was savoring your taste. "You're fucking perfect," he murmured against you, his lips wet and swollen, "so soft, so sweet... made for my mouth." The combination of his tongue stroking hard over your clit and his voice — low, wrecked, completely gone for you — was too much. "Sunghoon— I'm—" "I know," he said quickly, almost possessively, before sealing his mouth around you again. His tongue rolled against you in deep, deliberate pressure, alternating with sharp, fast flicks until the knot inside you snapped. Your thighs clamped around his head, and then it happened — your body jolted, a rush of wet heat spilling over his mouth and chin. The sound it made — a sharp splash over his lips — made his eyes widen, but he didn't pull away.

"Holy fuck," he breathed when he finally lifted his head, his face glistening with you. His tongue darted out to lick the corner of his mouth, and his pupils were blown wide.

"You just squirted on me." You flushed hard, but he wasn't teasing — he was turned on to the point of shaking. "That was the hottest thing I've ever fucking seen." His voice dropped lower, darker. "I want to make you do that again."

But then he sat back onto his knees, looking down at you with something almost reverent. His hand went to the bulge in his trousers, palming himself through the fabric with a quiet groan, eyes locked on your face. His lips parted like he couldn't believe how much he wanted you right now. "Please." Just one word — needy, reverent, and laced with desperation.

______

You pushed yourself up slowly, your legs still trembling from the way he'd just wrecked you. He stayed there on his knees in front of you, hand still palming his cock through his trousers, lips shiny and swollen, eyes fixed on you like he couldn't look anywhere else. That one word — please — was still hanging in the air between you. You leaned forward, your palm sliding over the bulge in his pants, pressing down just enough to make him groan. He was hard — painfully so — and the heat of him burned through the fabric. "You did so well for me, Hoon," you murmured, your voice low and sweet, brushing the words right against his ear. "You made me feel so good... all over your mouth, all over your face." He let out a shaky laugh, but it broke into a gasp when you squeezed gently. "You liked it, didn't you?" you asked, teasing but tender, your thumb brushing the head of his cock through the cloth.

"I loved it," he admitted without hesitation, his hips twitching forward into your hand. "You don't even know—" "Then let me return the favor." You started undoing his belt, your fingers slow and deliberate, watching the way his breath got heavier with every movement. The moment you unzipped him, the hard outline of him pressed forward, straining against his boxers.

You cupped him through the thin fabric, giving him a slow stroke. He groaned low in his throat, eyes fluttering shut for a second.

"God, baby..." His voice was wrecked, almost unrecognizable. "You've been so good to me," you whispered, your lips brushing his jaw, "I want to taste you." That got his eyes open again — dark, wide, hungry. "Fuck— yeah. Please."

You pushed his boxers down, and his cock sprang free, flushed and heavy in your hand. He was already leaking, and the sight alone made you feel lightheaded. You wrapped your fingers around him, starting slow, stroking from the base up to the slick head, spreading his pre-cum with your thumb. He let out a deep groan, his head tipping back for a moment before he looked back down at you like he couldn't stand not seeing. "You're so big, Hoon," you breathed, leaning down just enough to let your lips ghost over the tip without taking him in yet.

His jaw clenched, and his hand went instinctively to your hair, not pushing — just holding, like he needed the contact. "Fuck, say that again," he muttered. "You're big... and so hard for me," you said, giving him another slow stroke. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you? Thinking about me on my knees for you." He bit his lip, his breath catching. "Every fucking night."

You licked up the underside of his shaft, slow and deliberate, feeling him twitch under your tongue. The first time you wrapped your lips around the head, his hips jerked forward slightly, and a sharp groan ripped from his chest. "Oh, fuck— you feel so good."

You took him deeper, your hand working the part of him your mouth couldn't reach yet, twisting slightly as you stroked. The wet sounds of your mouth on him filled the air, obscene and intimate. When you pulled back just to catch your breath, a thin line of spit connected your lips to him. You met his gaze as you licked it away and let more saliva drip from your mouth onto his length, using your hand to spread it. "Messy girl," he rasped, both praise and curse. "You're gonna kill me." You smiled against him, then took him in deeper this time, relaxing your throat until the head brushed the back. His groan was low and guttural, his hand tightening in your hair — still careful, still reverent, even with how desperate he was. "You're perfect," he said, voice breaking. "So fucking perfect for me."

You hummed around him, and the vibration made him gasp. His thighs tensed, and his hips gave a small, helpless thrust before he caught himself. You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice husky: "Don't hold back. I want you to fuck my mouth." His eyes went black at that, his chest rising and falling fast. "Baby— if I do that, I'm not gonna last." "Then don't."

_______

Sunghoon's breath was already ragged, but something in your voice — the way you'd just told him not to hold back — snapped the last thread of restraint he had.

His hand tightened in your hair, not yanking, just guiding. "Look at me," he said, low and rough. You tilted your eyes up at him as you wrapped your lips back around him, taking him in deeper. His jaw flexed, and you could see the muscle ticking there, like he was holding himself back from ruining you. "Fuck— you're so beautiful like this," he breathed, thumb brushing over your cheekbone before settling at the corner of your mouth, feeling the stretch of your lips around him. He eased his hips forward, testing, and when you didn't flinch, he gave a slow thrust deeper into your mouth. You gagged softly around him, eyes watering instantly — and he groaned like it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. "That's it," he said, voice almost reverent. "God, those eyes— keep looking at me." Your mascara was already smudged from earlier, and now with the tears spilling over, you knew you looked wrecked for him. He loved it — you could see it in the way his gaze drank you in, dark and adoring all at once.

He started moving — slow at first, then picking up pace, the wet schlk of your lips around him filling the space between his broken moans. You could feel your spit and his pre-cum mixing, dripping down your chin, your throat working to take as much of him as possible. Every time you gagged, his fingers tightened in your hair, his breath hitching. "You're so fucking good to me," he panted, hips rocking into your mouth. "Taking me so deep— fuck, baby, I can feel your throat." Your eyes rolled back for a second at the sound of his voice — the filth, the awe in it — and when you looked back up, his expression almost undid you. He was gone — flushed cheeks, lips parted, brows drawn together in desperate pleasure, watching every twitch of your mouth on him.

"Pretty girl," he rasped, almost to himself. "My pretty girl..." When you flattened your tongue under him and let your throat open, he groaned so loud you swore someone outside could hear. His thrusts got rougher, more urgent, but never careless. He wanted you ruined, but still wanted you safe. "Shit— I'm close," he warned, his voice shaking. You sucked harder, your hand twisting at the base, encouraging him. His hips stuttered.

Then his eyes locked on yours, pupils blown wide, and he growled, "Don't you dare look away." You held his gaze, teary and flushed, lips stretched around him — and that was it. With a broken groan, his hips slammed forward, burying himself in your mouth as he came. The heat hit your throat in quick, pulsing waves, the taste flooding over your tongue. You swallowed instinctively, still holding him deep, your eyes still locked on his even as fresh tears slipped free. He looked completely undone, mouth parted, chest heaving, eyes so full of you it almost hurt.

--

When he finally pulled back, his cock slipped from your lips with a wet pop, a thin line of spit and cum connecting you for a second before breaking. He stared at you — at your messy chin, your wet lashes, your flushed cheeks — like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "Holy fuck," he breathed, almost laughing in disbelief. "You... you just killed me." He still hadn't stopped palming your hair, brushing damp strands back gently now. Then, softer but with that same awe, "I'm so fucking in love with you."

_______

He was still holding your face like it was something precious, chest rising and falling fast from the high he'd just come down from. "I'm so fucking in love with you," he repeated, voice low and raw. Your heart hammered. The words slipped out before you could think.

"I love you too." It was quiet but certain — no hesitation, no doubt.

Something changed in his expression instantly. His mouth parted like he'd just been hit in the chest, and for a second, he didn't move. Then he kissed you — hard, desperate, his lips still tasting faintly of you from earlier. You were already pulling him closer, hands sliding down his toned stomach until you felt him again — already heavy, already hard, his skin hot against your palm. He groaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss just enough to press his forehead to yours. "I need to be inside you," he said, not like a demand, but like a plea.

You let him push you back gently until your head hit the pillows. His shirt came off fast — you didn't even register the motion, just the sudden expanse of bare chest above you, his abs tightening as he worked his trousers open. When he pushed them down, his cock was flushed and thick again, and your breath caught at the sight. The weight of it in his hand as he stroked himself made your thighs clench. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, settling between your legs, the tip of him brushing against your entrance. His free hand came up to cup one breast, thumb circling your nipple slowly. "I want to fuck you and keep you full until you can't think."

He pushed in slowly at first, the thick head stretching you open, making you gasp. The stretch burned in the best way, your walls gripping around him immediately. "God— so tight," he groaned, jaw clenching, eyes locked on where you were taking him. When his hips pressed flush against yours, you both exhaled hard — the fullness overwhelming. He stayed there for a beat, one hand gripping your thigh, the other still palming your breast. Then he started moving.

The first few thrusts were slow, deep, letting you feel every inch of him. His balls tapped against you softly each time he bottomed out, the sound wet and obscene in the quiet room. "Feel that?" he asked, voice rough. "All the way inside... fuck, you're perfect." You moaned, nails digging into his shoulders. He dropped his head to your chest, lips closing around your nipple, sucking while his hips sped up. The wet pull of his mouth on your breast and the deep stretch of him inside you made your back arch off the bed.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hair falling over his forehead, sweat beading at his temples. His expression was wrecked — flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes dark with lust and something softer underneath. "Gonna fill you up," he groaned, one hand sliding down to your hip to hold you in place. "Gonna cum so deep you'll feel me for days." The words made your walls clamp around him, and he felt it. His thrusts turned sharper, balls slapping harder against you. "Say you love me again," he demanded between thrusts, his voice breaking slightly. "I love you," you gasped, and his groan in response was almost animal.

He moved faster now, his hips driving into yours, every push sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. You could hear the wet sound of him inside you, the low slap of skin, the faint catch in his breath each time your walls clenched. "Fuck— I'm so close," he panted, his rhythm faltering just slightly. His free hand cupped your breast again, squeezing, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

His eyes locked on yours again, and you could see it — the exact second he let go. With one final, deep thrust, he buried himself fully inside, groaning as the heat of his release filled you. He stayed there, pressed deep, his hips twitching with aftershocks, balls snug against you as he pumped every drop into you. When he finally eased back slightly, you could feel the warm spill of him inside, his cock still heavy and hard. He kissed you again — slower this time, like he was sealing something in.

He was still inside you when he whispered against your ear, voice dark with need.

"Not done with you." Your legs twitched from the oversensitivity, but your body reacted instantly, tightening around him. His lips brushed your cheek, then your jaw.

"You think one round's enough after what you just said to me?" he murmured, hips already starting to move again. The tenderness from moments ago was gone. This was sharp, hungry, impatient. He pulled out almost entirely, just to slam back in hard enough to make the headboard hit the wall. Your gasp turned into a moan as his pace went from steady to brutal — each thrust hitting deep, his balls slapping hard against your ass. "Listen to that," he gritted out, the wet, obscene sounds of your pussy taking him echoing in the room. "You're fucking soaked for me. You like when I use you like this?" "Yes—" you gasped, cut off by a rough thrust that knocked the word out of you. He grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking your head back just enough to make your spine arch beautifully for him. His mouth was right at your ear now. "Say it again. Say you love me while I fuck you like this." "I—love— you," you moaned, broken between thrusts. "Good girl." His voice was all grit and pride. "Gonna cum in you again. Make it drip down your thighs."

He flipped you over without warning, dragging you onto your hands and knees. His hands gripped your hips hard, thumbs digging into your skin as he lined himself up again. The first thrust from behind made you cry out — it was deeper like this, rougher, every stroke hitting a spot that had your arms shaking. "Fuck, this view," he groaned, one hand sliding down to smack your ass, the sharp sound followed by a delicious sting. "Watching my cock disappear inside your perfect little pussy... never getting over it."

He reached under you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing fast, messy circles that matched the frantic pace of his hips. The combination had your breath stuttering, your knees threatening to give. "You're dripping all over me," he groaned. "Making a mess on my cock. You love it, don't you?" "Y-yes—" you managed, only for it to break into a loud moan when he started grinding into you in between thrusts, pressing deep before pulling out just to slam in again. He was relentless now, fucking you hard enough that you could feel his balls slap against you with each thrust. "Gonna cum— fuck, gonna pump you so full it leaks for hours," he growled, hips snapping into you. The words pushed you over the edge — your orgasm ripped through you, making your pussy clamp so hard around him he cursed loudly. "Fuck—fuck, that's it—" His thrusts got sloppy, rougher, until he buried himself deep one last time and spilled hot inside you again, groaning your name like it was the only word he knew.

When he finally pulled out, the sight of your pussy fluttering and leaking his cum made him groan again. He palmed himself lazily, eyes still fixed on the mess.

"Could go again," he murmured, still out of breath. "But I'd ruin you completely."

______

The room still smelled like sex — heavy and warm — and the sheets were a tangled mess beneath you. You were still catching your breath, but Sunghoon didn't move far. He stayed pressed to you, his hand lazily stroking up and down your side, his forehead resting against yours like he didn't dare let the moment break. When he finally pulled back enough to look at you, his hair was a wild mess, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen, eyes still soft and blown out from everything that had just happened.

"I need to say this before I combust," he murmured, his voice hoarse but steady.

"Can I please be your boyfriend?" The question landed with the weight of everything you'd just felt between you — the way he'd touched you like you were precious and fucked you like he'd been waiting forever. You blinked at him, almost laughing at how urgent he looked, but his eyes weren't joking. He was dead serious. "I mean it," he continued quickly, his hand coming up to cradle your face like he was afraid you'd look away.

"I want to wake up next to you every day. I want to see you smile every time I walk into a room. I want to be the one you lean on when shit gets hard. I want to... be yours. Completely." Your throat tightened, and before you could speak, he added, "You already own me, you know. I just... want it official." You laughed softly, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. "You're ridiculous." "Yeah," he admitted without hesitation. "Ridiculous for you." It made your heart ache in the best way. "Yes," you said simply, and the way his entire face lit up could've powered the whole campus. "Yes?" he echoed, grinning like a kid before leaning in to kiss you again — soft this time, lingering, all the heat replaced with something warm and infinite.

--

By the time you both dragged yourselves out of bed and into clean clothes, the glow between you was impossible to hide. Which, as you realized the moment you stepped into the student union, was going to be a problem. Because Jake and Yunjin were both there. And you and Sunghoon were... holding hands. Jake froze mid-sip of his coffee, eyes darting to your interlocked fingers like he'd just spotted a UFO. "No. No way. I leave you alone for two days and this happens?" Yunjin didn't even look surprised — she just raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Knew it. Saw it coming from a mile away. The tension was practically a health hazard."

Jake set his coffee down like he needed both hands to gesture. "Do you two understand the levels of smug you're radiating right now? It's offensive." Sunghoon just smirked, squeezing your hand, clearly unbothered. "Jealous?"

"Not jealous," Jake shot back instantly. "Disgusted. And slightly betrayed. Mostly disgusted."

Yunjin, leaning back in her chair, chimed in, "So... when's the wedding?" You groaned, burying your face in your free hand, but Sunghoon just grinned wider, his thumb stroking the back of your hand like he couldn't stop touching you. "Sooner than you think," he deadpanned, earning a dramatic gag from Jake and a slow clap from Yunjin.

_______

The teasing from Jake and Yunjin faded into background noise the second Sunghoon tugged you gently toward the exit. Not in a rush, not dragging you — just... guiding you, like he wanted to be anywhere but under that fluorescent lighting with everyone staring. The late evening air was cool when you stepped outside, the campus quieter now. You walked without talking for a bit, the sound of your shoes on the pavement and the faint rustle of leaves filling the silence. His thumb kept brushing against yours, like even now he had to keep touching you. When you reached the edge of the quad, he stopped. You turned toward him, expecting some joke about Jake, but instead, he just looked at you. Really looked. Like he was memorizing your face.

"You know," he said softly, "I wasn't exaggerating in there. About the waking up next to you part." Your chest tightened. "You were serious." "Dead serious." He stepped closer, the warmth of him chasing away the chill. "I want all of it. The big stuff. The boring stuff. The you-stealing-my-fries stuff. Everything. I want you when you're laughing, when you're pissed at me, when you're stressed out over work... I want you." You could feel your heart beating in your fingertips. "You already have me," you said quietly. That smile — the one that made you feel like you were the only person on earth — broke across his face. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, breathing you in like he couldn't get enough. "I'm so gone for you," he murmured. "Like... hopeless." You laughed under your breath, slipping your arms around his waist. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go."

--

For a while, you just stood there, wrapped up in each other. No noise, no eyes on you, no deadlines. Just you and him, the glow of the campus lights painting him in gold, and the knowledge that whatever came next, you were walking into it together.

______

OKAY SO THAT'S IT. WE'RE DONE. MY BEAUTIFUL, CHAOTIC, SLOW-BURN IDIOTS FINALLY GOT TOGETHER AND DID THE NASTY — AND NOW I'M JUST SITTING HERE LIKE A PROUD PARENT WHO ALSO PROBABLY NEEDS THERAPY.

THANK YOU FOR READING, SCREAMING, AND LOSING BRAIN CELLS WITH ME. I'M GRATEFUL, I'M EMOTIONAL, AND I'M ALSO WONDERING WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE NOW THAT I CAN'T DRAG OUT THEIR ROMANTIC TENSION ANYMORE.

FORGET TO HYDRATE AND BULLY JAKE.

perm taglist - @yourislandgirl @luvr4gyu @staarflowerr @whattlulu @chae-rries @mariegibeau @wonuziex @iris65 @toastmenace @saraabbas @kaykay11sworld

© si3rren 2025. all rights reserved.

[hoonharem]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ terms and conditions ꒱ ˎˊ˗

⟢ a messy hookup between two co–workers tangled in infidelity blurs the line between lust and spite. tldr—sunghoon has a fiance and you have your vendetta.

pairing p. sunghoon x fem. reader word count 8.2k content warning infidelity, affair, cheating, profanity, toxic relationship dynamic, asshole sunghoon (reader is too), one (1) mentioned of drinking, reader knows sunghoon has a fiance, jealousy, possessiveness, 'whore', 'bitch', 'slut', and 'asshole' used (on reader and sunghoon) smut advisory turns to hate–fucking, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, 69, face–sitting, oral (f & m rec.), fellatio, deep–throat, pussy eating (he swallows your squirt), throat–fucking, dirty–talking, missionary, riding, deep penetration, cock warming, finger–sucking, fingering, sneaky–fucking, 0 morals just horny

“is this who you are, yn?” 

the water runs hot and stinging against your skin like penance. steam fogs the glass, but her voice cuts through the haze in your thoughts anyway. 

“you… your old-self would’ve been so disappointed with how you turned out to be.” 

she hadn’t said it with malice or mercy. mina has always been the type of friend that’s just too honest for her own good, but never cruel for cruelty’s sake. she means well, you know it. she didn’t raise her voice or judge you—just full disappointment and heartbreak.

you squeeze your eyes shut as you tilt your head back under the spray, trying to pretend and justify that this is just another night—and that… it’s okay since sunghoon and his fiance haven't gotten married yet. 

but the guilt doesn’t rinse clean, no matter how hot the water runs. 

your fingers tremble as they travel up to massage your scalp.

“are you really this low?” 

maybe you are. 

——

the first time you met sunghoon, you were a new employee—barely two weeks into your job and still fumbling and managing through slack threads and meetings. you’d bumped into him in the pantry room, quite literally. coffee nearly spilled between you, your apology tumbling out before you even looked up.

what a way to make a first impression at a new job.

“oh my god—’m so sorry, so sorry,” you tumbled, bowing. scrambling back and hoping the floor could devour you whole. but instead of annoyance, sunghoon let out a quiet laugh, light and low and almost amused. usually it made it worse but... 

“don’t worry. happens all the time,” he said, already grabbing a napkin from the counter and handing it to you. “‘specially on mondays.” 

you took it with both hands, head still hung low out of both respect and embarrassment. too flustered to meet his eyes.

when you finally did, you wished you hadn’t.

sunghoon—the first thing you noticed was his lanyard id hanging around his neck.

he was... pretty. handsome. just so attractive. sharp suit, and sharper jawline. hair slicked back with an undercut underneath and there was a boyishness to his smile. oddly enough, sunghoon looked cold and intimidating. but too cold despite the way your heart stuttered.

“...you’re the new girl, right?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in curiosity although he knew the answer himself. you flashed him a soft smile and nodded slowly. “mmhm. marketing.” 

“ahh, i thought so.” he nodded, extending his hand. “sunghoon, finance.” 

you shook it before you could think better of it and unlike his appearance, his hand was warm. “yn, nice to meet you…”

sunghoon just held your hand for a moment too long before letting go. not long enough that it’s obvious for others, but long enough for you to notice. long enough that it lingered against your palm. 

“nice to meet you too,” he said, and stepped aside slightly so you could pass, though the space he made for you wasn’t that wide. you nodded, mumbled something awkward back, and slipped past him with burning cheeks but not before muttering another apology for ruining his white shirt. 

“that’s okay—hope to see you around, yn.”

back at your desk, you didn’t think much of it. someone like sunghoon, handsome and tall and carried himself like a god surely was out of your league. besides, finance wasn’t even on the same level as marketing’s. what are the odds of bumping into him again? 

slim. 

——

you didn’t notice the time until the only light left was your own. 

the office was hushed, blanketed in that eerie stillness you see in cctvs—only settled after everyone else had gone home. the hum of the vending machine sounded louder than usual, even your typing felt too sharp.

you rubbed your eyes, stretched your arms overhead, and stood with a sigh, pushing your chair back. you placed your hands on your waist as you bent backwards slightly, stretching your spine with a soft crack. “hngh,” you grunted. 

you grabbed your water bottle and headed toward the pantry, shoulders heavy. 

just five more minutes. one report to relax over the weekend—you told yourself.

but when you turned the corner into the pantry, he was already there.

sunghoon!

leaning against the counter casually with his sleeves rolled up to his elbow, his arms were crossed loosely over his chest. his tie was gone, collar open, and he looked up at you like he wasn’t expecting you either.

“yn?” he said, eyebrows raised. “still here?” 

you paused in the doorway, caught a little off guard by him. you cleared your throat and composed yourself before stepping in. “mm. just wrapping some reports.” you replied, moving past him to the dispenser, uncapped your bottle, and let the water run cold before filling it. behind you, sunghoon shifted—just slightly, but you felt his presence and warmth behind you.

“you always work this late?” 

you glanced over your shoulder, meeting sunghoon’s eyes. “only when i don’t wanna go home yet,” you hummed, pulling your bottle away from the dispenser once the water hit the edge. sunghoon nodded, “fair.”

you turned to lean your back against the counter next to it. sunghoon didn’t move away. he stayed where he was—just close enough that you felt him more than you saw him. one arm rested on his hip, the other resting along the edge of the counter beside you—caging, but not threatening. 

“how long have you been here?” he asked, eyes flicking over your face.

“since morning,” you hummed, tilting your head a little to meet his gaze. “what about you?” you asked, voice quieter despite having nobody else around except the two of you. “nobody’s waiting at home?” 

his expression didn’t shift much—but you noticed the pause.

sunghoon chuckled, low under his breath, and darted his tongue out over his lips, shifting on his

feet. “not tonight.” 

you weren’t really sure what you meant by the question—or what sunghoon’s answer was supposed to mean. the words just hung between you, one not knowing, and the other knew well. 

“come get a drink with me,” sunghoon said, suddenly after noticing the brief pause. you looked up at him, blinking. “what?” 

“i know a place nearby,” he added. “and you look like you need one.” 

you hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

there was no reason to say no… but there was no reason to say yes, either. tomorrow’s saturday and you just want to relax—but because tomorrow’s a saturday that maybe it’s okay to drink tonight? 

besides, you wanted to know what else he’d say under dimmer lights with the setting less sterile. you wanted to know how sunghoon’s like outside the office—wanted to hang out with sunghoon outside this premise. 

“mm,” you hummed, smiling. “just once?” you said softly, bringing your index finger up to emphasise it. 

sunghoon’s mouth curved at your adorableness, his laughter low and warm as he reached out, wrapping his hand around your smaller finger naturally. “ just one,” he echoed, holding your gaze for a beat too long before releasing your hand. “i’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

then, he turned and walked out, but not before glancing over his shoulder. “don’t make me wait too long.” 

you giggled and nodded, giving him a small wave. and then, quietly, you smiled to yourself.

——

“ah—ngh! mmh!”

you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. sunghoon’s thrusts grew quicker, more insistent—his hips snapping into yours with a kind of urgency he could no longer disguise. his breath was heavy with each exhale stuttering as he tried to hold himself together—longer.

“fuck—your pussy’s so fucking tight,” he groaned, swallowing the lump in his throat as he threw his head back and closing his eyes, teeth gritted in concentration. sunghoon indulged himself in feeling the way his cock dragged against the sensitive tissue of your entrance. they grip and cling around him like vice.

how did the two of you get here—? how did one glass of soju turned into a session of fucking in your apartment? 

sunghoon was above you—hovering, hands grip deep into your hips, thumbs pressing into flesh as he slammed his cock deep against your cervix. his grunts growing louder with each thrust. his eyes glued to where the two of you connect—your pussy shining with a slick mixture of your liquid and his saliva from when he ate your cunt out earlier—stretched nicely to fit around his fat cock. 

“look at me, baby,” he breathed, voice strained. sunghoon drank every expression of yours—every stuttered moan and gasp of his name, every pretty flutter of your lashes, every time your lips parted with that tongue sticking out like a kitten. “look at me.”

his hand came up to your jaw, fingers warm and firm as he tilted your face toward him. you blinked up at him, dazed, horny, eyes crossed—and he exhaled like he was losing his mind over it.

“that’s it, pretty girl,” then, sunghoon slipped his thumb between your lips, pressing the pad of his thumb on the surface of your tongue. “my good girl.” he murmured, watching as your mouth closed around it instinctively. 

his hips kept moving, slower and deeper so he could feel every inch of your tissue and your velvety walls. you started sucking on his thumb, wrapping and rolling and lolling your tongue around the shape like it’s his cock. lips stretched as sunghoon moved his thumb back and forth. “mmh, ngh—hoonie,”

as the pleasure builds, everything else just fades away. you felt your muscle tensing up and tightening around his needy cock, squeezing him in a desperate attempt to keep him inside you just a second longer. “hoonie,” you moaned against his thumb, saliva dripping down from the corner of your mouth. “cock’s so—mhh!—big, want it, want it inside,” you murmured breathlessly. 

sunghoon chuckled at your reaction, running his wet thumb over your lips. “you’re sucking it like it’s my cock,” he breathed out, canines tugging his bottom lip. sunghoon thought of something else—his cock—inside your mouth, but decided to save it for another time. how nice would you look as he fucked your throat deep.

all he could focus on was your needy cunt. 

sunghoon withdrew, letting you feel the long drag of his cock leaving your pussy before he stuffed it all back in in one, brutal deep thrust. he repeated the action, with each drag pulling a louder moan out of you. “jesus—fuckkk,” he moaned, gathering spit in his mouth before leaning down slightly. then slowly, he let it fall from his lips, dragging in that glistening strand that stretched until it landed warm and wet on your clit. sunghoon’s saliva broke and slid down between your pussy lips before being mixed and pushed inside your cunt.

you arched your back as his thumb slipped free from your mouth. whimpering at the loss—sunghoon moved his thumb to press down on your clit, rubbing and rolling on it. “ungh, mhh, ah—” you moaned softly, teething at the double pleasure you were receiving. 

it’s so nasty and dirty.

sunghoon is someone’s fiance—has a whole future lined up and waiting. his girlfriend’s probably at home waiting and blowing up his phone that he tucked inside his slack’s pocket that you were aware of had been ringing since three hours ago. 

and yet here was, above and six inches deep inside your tight cunt—moaning and calling out your name like a prayer. 

sunghoon’s tempo picked up when he felt it coming—hips meeting yours with wet, rhythmic splat that echoed throughout your bedroom. every thrust became heavier and deeper as he could go. “oh fuck—how are you still so fucking tight?”

he leaned down, bracing himself on his forearms, and captured your mouth in a deep, breathless kiss—messy and open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth and heat. he groaned into you, swallowing your moans and cute whimpers. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted between kisses, hips stuttering, head of his cock slamming rough against your cervix.

“‘m close, hoonie, wanna cum!” your core tightened around him as sunghoon lifted you so your thighs rested on his hips. the change of angle sent a new wave of pleasure washing through you. “cum on my cock, baby,” he groaned, eyes never leaving yours. sunghoon grinded his throbbing cock inside you, burying it so deep that he swore he could see the shape of it forming beneath your lower abdomen. “c’mon give it to me.”

“hoonie!” you gasped, throwing your head back, head tipped back against the pillow as sunghoon rasped against your throat, leaving kisses and marks against your skin, teeth scraping. your climax exploded, giving in to the orgasm that’s been building within you. your muscles clench and release in a series of spasms that milk him, coating his cock white. 

sunghoon’s thumb didn’t leave your clit as he rubbed and rolled it harder, flicking over the little bud. with that, you squirted—right on his chest. “ah—! mhh, ngh!” you gasped, face flushed red as you realised what you just did. your hips buck into him, toes curled in pleasure, as clouds blurred your mind.

sunghoon’s eyes widened as his cock twitches, hard—fuck this is hot—he thought. his thrusts became uneven as his high hits—hot and thick ropes of cum filling you, deep inside your womb. his hips rock into yours, easing himself through his own orgasm. “fuckfuckfuck, shit, you’re going to kill me,” he grunted, holding your calves still as he milked himself dry. 

sunghoon came so much you swore you felt his semen spilled out of you. 

“fuck,” he breathed out, chest heavy. his cock still embedded deep within you. your walls pulsed around him as he continued to thrust his cum. “just so pretty,” he murmured, eyes tracing over your sweaty hot body. 

you tugged on your bottom lip, groaning softly as sunghoon pulled himself out, very slowly so he could enjoy the view of your pussy around his covered cock. it sprung out with mixed cum dripping from the tip, landing on your flushed cunt. a string of his cum connected from the head to your entrance. nice sight for sunghoon.

“did you like it?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. your chest raised up and down, decorated with his bites and kisses—nipples red and flushed from sunghoon’s suckings. 

sunghoon chuckled, lowering himself to wrap his arms around your back like he couldn’t bear the space between you—despite just finishing himself inside. his hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, the other splayed across your waist. 

your cheek pressed against his shoulder, nose brushing his collarbone, and you felt him exhale. “i love it,” he murmured, not caring about the fact that the room and you—smelled like sex, sweat, and cum—and how your bodies sticked against one another. 

“maybe too much.” he added with a chuckle, resting his chin atop of your head as he snuggled closer under the sheets. 

somewhere on the floor where his slacks landed, his phone buzzed for the tenth time that night. 

——

whatever… relationship that you had with sunghoon, it didn’t end that night.

it went on.

for the next couple of months, it existed in stolen time. before, after, and sometimes during work. on weekends he said he was busy. busy in your apartment. in the backseat of his car, with the windows fogged and hands trembling against the glass. sometimes in the motel when the two of you got so needy and desperate and sunghoon couldn’t be bothered to drive all the way to your complex to sink his cock inside of your tight cunt. it happened everywhere, anywhere, at any time. 

neither the two of you ever asked about what came next.

besides, sunghoon never mentioned her, and you never asked, either. it’s not your problem. you only found out that night he slept over your apartment— 6 missed calls from 🩷.

“it’s just for fun, mina,” you said, trying to sound casual about the whole topic. 

mina stared at you from across the table, her lips pressed into a thin line. “you keep saying that,” she said flatly with a sigh. “but you don’t look like you’re having fun, at all.” 

you scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means you look tired,” she snapped, not unkindly. “thank you for telling me but you haven’t been yourself at all ever since. and don’t even get me started on the fact that he’s—”

“don’t,” you gasped, cutting her off sharply, your index finger went up to her lips. you shook her head, feeling your heart grew heavy. “don’t say it—no need to remind me.” 

mina exhaled with another exasperated sigh, shoulders dropping. “why someone who’s already…” she murmured, the sentence trailing off. she didn’t have to finish it. “you’re still so young and so so pretty, why him?” she added softly, almost pleading now.

you stared down at your drink, the condensation dripping slowly down the side of the glass. you rolled your straw around the drink lazily. anything to keep from meeting her eyes.

“don’t know,” you mumbled. 

why him? why not sunghoon? he’s the hottest, handsomest person you’ve ever laid eyes on. had mina seen him… no—mina’s morals were better than yours. but still? 

you wanted to tell her it wasn’t serious. that you weren’t that type of girl. you didn’t do anything that’s harmful towards sunghoon’s relationship with the other girl. you didn’t text him late at night (but sometimes it happened), you didn’t beg sunghoon to choose you. you didn’t call or threaten him to leave his fiance. you were sure sunghoon didn’t like you like that either. it’s not as if your relationship with sunghoon crumbled his relationship with her.

you didn’t ask for this.

he came to you first—you just said yes.

had it not been you, maybe sunghoon would’ve cheated with some other girl—a meaner, crueler girl… maybe that other, different girl would use this against sunghoon. threatened to post clips, or blackmail him or some sort. 

you’re not ruining anything. you’re just making yourself feel… good. you’re just enjoying it.

“you don’t get it,” you murmured, still not looking at mina. your voice was soft and right, nails dug faint crescents into your palms. “it’s not what you think…” 

mina didn’t say anything right away. she just stared at you that look—the one that wasn’t cruel or condescending, just… sad. sad of what had become of you. of her friend.

“i think it’s exactly what i think.,” she said softly. “you just don’t want to admit it.” 

——

“hi—excuse me, sorry!” 

you blinked, slowing to a stop as you stepped back into the lobby after your latte run. a woman—taller, a little out of breath—flagged you down near the reception desk. she smiled at you, warm and polite, holding up a small, cute cloth-wrapped lunchbox with both hands.

“do you work here?” 

you raised your eyebrows, nodding slowly. “...yeah…?” 

she let out a relieved sigh, her whole posture softening. “thank god,” she smiled, stepping a little closer. “i’m so sorry to bother you—but could you please pass this to someone upstairs for me?” 

you looked down as the delicate, beautifully and carefully wrapped lunchbox. it clearly took time—done out of habit. or love.

receiving no answer for you, the woman was quick to add more—understanding on how confusing and weird it might be for you. “i’m park sunghoon’s fiance,” she added with a light, embarrassed laugh. “sooha. he left it on the kitchen counter this morning. i thought i’d drop it off, but i needed a pass to go up.” 

the words fiance and sunghoon didn’t quite register immediately.

your fingers froze around your coffee cup, eyes slowly widening. your body didn’t move, your heart didn’t beat. but your thoughts went quiet.

sunghoon had never said it outright, 

you always knew there was someone else but, you just hadn’t wanted to see her. not like this. you knew she was real—knew she had a face, a voice, a body, and a warm smile meant for sunghoon. knew she existed. 

but knowing was different from seeing her. seeing her meant she’d confirmed her existence before you. 

that didn’t mean she was real to you. no—she didn’t exist in your world. not the one where sunghoon texted you first, when he came to your apartment with his hands on your waist and his lips latched onto yours. not when he fucked you so deep then took care of you afterwards.

his fiance was just a shadow. a thought.

until now. 

until this sooha woman stood in front of you, looking so normal and so kind and asking you to hand-deliver a lunch she made with care. for him. for your sunghoon. a sunghoon who belonged to someone else entirely.

your grip tightened slightly around your coffee cup. 

sooha held the lunch out with both hands. “i’d really appreciate it,” 

you stared at the little package, then at her. then back again to the lunch-box.

it looked ugly and the fabric was worn out. 

“...sure,” you said after a beat, voice a little too tight that you had to force it out of your throat. “yeah—sure. i’ll make sure he gets it.” 

sooha’s face brightened immediately as you took the lunchbox. it was heavier than it looked. “thank you so much! you’re a lifesaver.” she clapped both her hands, beaming. “please tell him to eat well. oh and—he does finance!” she added with a laugh as she bowed politely and turned to go. as if you didn’t know that. 

with that, she disappeared through the front glass doors—light footsteps, hair swaying, humming satisfactorily to herself—leaving you in the middle of the lobby, the lunchbox clutched under your grip. 

your stomach twisted, something sharp building in your throat. 

you slowly turned around to walk towards the lift. and then, without pausing, you threw the lunchbox away.

it hit the far end of the bin with a muted thud and tumbled down between the trash, the carefully wrapped cloth catching for a moment before crumpling in on itself.

you didn’t look back. 

the elevator doors opened in front of you with a soft chime, contrary to the bells ringing in your ears, and you stepped in like nothing happened, though your hands were still trembling.

you pressed on the finance’s floor button.

——

“how are you so pretty, yn?” sunghoon mutters, cock twitching under his pants. his breath hitches as your hands graze the zipper of his slacks, running your palm over his hardened bulge. sunghoon’s gaze softens at the view he has of you sitting pretty on your knees between his thighs.

you run your fingers in the button of his slacks, darting your tongue out to wet your lips. “yeah?” you flash him a sweet smile. “mm, i don’t know you tellem.” he chuckles, exhaling shakily. “the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” sunghoon’s pants aren't even off but he’s getting so horny it’s almost unbelievable. “yeah… fuck, yeah.”

sunghoon’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth—smearing your lipstick. so tender, so full of something taboo. you lean into his touch anyway, pressing a kiss to his palm before lowering your gaze again. 

like you’ve got all the time in the world, you unbutton his slacks slowly. “‘m going to take care of you,” you murmur, fingers finding the waistband top of his boxers. you hooked your fingers around them and tug both down tentatively—hearing his breath catch in his throat again when his hard cock is exposed. sunghoon lets out a small laugh. “how can a small girl like you take care of me? mm?” 

you glance up to him through your lashes, lips curled in a slow knowing smile. you lean down slightly to plant a loving kiss on the head that’s already leaking precum. “you’d be surprised to know what i can handle.” you reply, voice syrupy–sweet. 

“oh, really?” sunghoon winces slightly as your wet lip comes in contact with his already–sensitive dick. his gaze lowers to rest on you. “c’mon, show me how to take care of a man, then.” he smirk, and the smug little tilt of his chin makes your stomach tighten. 

oh—you’ll show him. show her—sooha—how to take care of a real man so they won’t run around getting their cocks wet from others.

it’s not the first time sunghoon’s receiving a blowjob from you, but somehow this time, it feels different. maybe because it’s you who initiates it, it’s you who’s willingly pulling down his pants, it’s you dirty–talking to him—that it just feels different tonight. but different is good—sunghoon likes changes.

your wrap your hands around the base of sunghoon’s cock, giving it a few pumps and light squeezes just to get it hard—preparing it for something more. he lets out a soft groan, canines tugging on his lower lip. the tip oozes out precum as you give his cock a few slow strokes, from the top, down to the bottom. 

“ah, shit…” 

leaning forward, you stick your tongue out to lick a bead of his precum, then run the tip of your tongue across the side of his cock to clean the semen. it tastes salty with hints of bitterness. above, sunghoon inhales sharply at the sensation. he fights the urge to grip your hair. 

you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, slowly taking him in your mouth. no matter how many times you’ve given him head, you still struggle to take him in. “your mouth’s so warm…” he moans, shifting his weight slightly, giving you time to adjust and reposition his cock in your mouth. 

sunghoon twitches in your mouth, his  fingers curling around your bedsheet. a soft, choked sound escapes him. your lipstick stain stains around his shaft as you start moving—bobbing your head back and forth. your voice muffled as you breathe out of your nose, hands up and resting on his thighs as you balance yourself on your knees. “uh, huh—take it in, pretty…”

you make an affirmative noise and you nod your head, mouth now full and stuffed. sunghoon chuckles lowly, bringing his hand to brush away your strands before entwining them around your hair. twisting them around his knuckles like something to hold onto. sunghoon bucks his hips up once—shallow and slow. just burying his cock deeper. your throat flexes, and your hands automatically press into his thighs to steady yourself. 

“oops, sorry,” he says, half–chuckling, breath stuttering. sunghoon doesn’t sound sorry—not with the end of his lips curled up. “you’re just—fuck, you’re driving me insane.” he throws his head back as you loll your tongue around his bulbous cockhead, all while moving your head up and down on his shaft. “mm fuck, get that tongue goin’,” sunghoon let out a soft gasp, shivers running down his spine as his grip around your hair tightens.

that bubbles a soft giggle from you at his reponse—but it only sends vibration against sunghoon’s cock. “d—don’t do that, fuck,” he groans, laughing breathlessly through grit teeth, his hips twitching from the sensitivity. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, eyes squeezing. 

you move your hand from his thigh to fondle with his balls underneath, your saliva trailing down onto it. it coats your fingers as you squeeze in tandem, mouth and palm working together as obscene little squelches filling the room between his ragged breaths. sunghoon’s getting overstimulated by the two different pleasures he’s receiving. “ah, this is so…” he breathes out.

giving his balls a light squeeze, you shoves his cock all the way down your throat, sliding your tongue out from underneath and licking the base. “oh—fuck!” he groans, gasping softly. with his hand around your hair, sunghoon begins thrusting his hips into your throat, his cock dripping with your saliva each time his hips sink into the mattress.

you gag, eyes rolled back as you relax your throat around him. sunghoon curses under his breath, his stuttering, “how are you so good at this?” choking on his own saliva as he pushes your head down, overwhelmed by the wet heat of your throat. he starts fucking your throat like it’s fleshlight, bruising the back of you throat.

“you’re going to kill me—” fingers tightening in your hair, “let’s give a show to your dentist—let them know how good you are at sucking cocks.” your eyes flick up to meet his, brows raise just slightly like you’re mocking him. sunghoon scoffs, smirking at the sight of your mouth full, eyes all doe and teary. god he wants to ravage you.

how hard sunghoon’s breathing only drives you to continue—but he pulls your head up with his fingers around your scalp. you release with a soft gasp, all flushed from his cock and strings of spit hanging off your chin. your legs ache from kneeling too long, but you ignore it.

“fuck—sit on my face,” he chokes out. “let me get a taste of that pretty pussy.”

sunghoon watches as you rise to your feet—wide–eyes and flushed—as you climb onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his head, facing his lower body. his hands immediately reach for your thighs. “yeah—just like that,” he whispers. 

you bite your lower lip, trying to contain your excitement. sunghoon moves so confidently as he comes face–to–face with your cunt, pulling you down slightly above his face. he lifts your pencil skirt up till it pools around your waist. “ah—thank you for the meal~” he chuckles, voice thick with playfulness. 

his finger trail up your inner thigh before he hooks an index around the edge of your panties, tugging it to the side with ease—exposing your pussy to the cool air and his warm breath. “fuck, look at that,” he grunts. “prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen.”

“so wet and needy for me,” sunghoon murmurs, swallowing the lust in his throat. before him, the sight glistens. upon his compliments, your pussy twitches. 

it’s so embarrassing to have sunghoon’s eyes locked on it, but before you could tell him how you feel—sunghoon’s mouth attaches itself to your pussy in seconds, tongue darting out to lap between the two lips. “hngh—!” you gasp, hands braced against his chest as your knees dig into the mattress.

your head tips back instinctively, hips twitching at the first warm, wet stroke of his tongue. the pleasure hits so fast—pulling a strangled moan from the back of your throat. you feel him smirking as he sucks on your clit like drinking out of a thick smoothie, desperate. “mh—so good, hoonie, s’good,” you moan. 

sunghoon laps at your soaked folds like a madman, ravenous, and it’s getting infuriating—how good he’s making you feel within seconds. “fuck, i could get addicted to this.”

you huff out a breath, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. it can’t be this one–sided.

shifting your weight on his face, you slide your palm down his stomach until you’re gripping his throbbing cock again, it’s standing on its own, lowering yourself until your lips brush his tip. sunghoon let out a low groan against your pussy. 

“you wanna make this a competition?” you murmur breathily, determined to make him fall just as fast. simultaneously, you lick up and down his cock, before taking him into your wet mouth. “oh, fuck, baby,” he groaned into your dripping cunt, the noise sent vibrations through you. “bring it on pretty girl.”

sunghoon’s cock is so lengthy it’s giving your neck a workout—almost. his tongue dances between your folds before teasing the entrance of your pussy, inserting the tip of his tongue before pulling it back—just to get you riled up. you use your dainty hand to massage and fondle with his balls, the other hand stroking his base.

“mhh! oh god,” you muffle with your mouth full, bucking your hips back and forth instinctively, seeking more of his tongue—chasing every lap, flick, and swirl. his grip tightens on your thighs in response as he pulls you down closer, rutting his hips up into your mouth again. “pussy’s so fucking sweet.”

the head of sunghon’s cock hits the back of your throat, evoking your gag reflex. he roughly thrusts into your mouth, slurring out his moanings into near nonsense phrases. “ah fuck, so tasty, all mine,” sunghoon groans, his voice rises in pitch as he buries his nose between your folds.

“mh—uh huh, all yours,” you gasp. sunghoon fondles with your ass, spreading them as he sticks his tongue out and inserting it in your pussy. you let out a choked moan as you bob your head on his cock. his wet, long tongue fucks your pussy like its his cock—curling against your velvety walls. 

“shit, ‘m gonna cum,” he rasped, spitting between your folds. it drips back down on his chin, trailing along his jaw. he resumes licking and french–kissing your pussy—all while fondling and digging his nails into your flesh. “uh huh—?” you slurp and suck on his cock, hard, burying your nose all the way down. 

“fuck, you’re a cockwhore, aren’t you?” sunghoon hisses and he throws his head back, bucking his hips up.  “ah, fuck—can’t take it anymore.” with one hard thrusts into your throat, sunghoon cums right inside your mouth. it squirts down your throat—so much you physically feel it sliding down the back of your throat. like it’s coating your windpipe, making its way to your stomach in one heated gulp. “swallow it, fuck—swallow it all,”

your eyes flutter shut, then roll back as the warmth spills down your throat, unrelenting and thick. like cream, but saltier. sunghoon doesn’t stop, though. he envelopes your flushed pussy in his mouth, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit. it’s so much—feels like he’s slurping his own cum out of you.

you pull back with a wet pop, gasping for air as you grind your hips down against his face in fluid motion. sunghoon groans underneath, hands gripping tight as you rock your hips—chasing the high he’s already coaxing out of you. sunghoon tugs and nips on your clit, running the tip of his tongue between your folds repeatedly.

down there—his cock throbs and twitches. “‘m close, hoonie,” you breathe, fingernails scratching his bare chest, drawing red, needy lines against his skin. “yeah—let it out on my face, babe,” he rasps against you. your hips stutter as the pressure builds. “i wanna taste you on my tongue.” 

“oh—park sunghoon!” your body convulses. you cry out his name, head arching backwards in sheer pleasure. “yes, yes—hah, fuck!” the waves of pleasure recedes, orgasm surges through you. your climax tears through you as you squirts right on his tongue. sunghoon lays his tongue flat against your opening, between your folds.

you’re left panting and twitching, thighs trembling on either side of his face as sunghoon swallows your juices down with a satisfied hum. “wow girl,” he breathes, lifting you up slightly to catch a breather. “didn’t know you had it in you.” sunghoon licks his lips slowly, savouring. 

he gives your thigh a playful slap, grinning. “you taste sweeter, or am i just lucky tonight?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you muster up the leftover energy to get off his face. “just for you.” you mumble breathlessly. sunghoon catches your wrist before you can fully settle. “what now, hm?” he teases, eyes hooded and lips tugged into a lazy smirk. 

you glance down at him—flushed, messy, and still achingly horny.

“since i’m taking care of you,” you murmur, climbing over his waist and straddling him slow, deliberate. your hands press to his chest, nails grazing down lightly as you roll your hips. “you just stay there and enjoy it, okay?”

sunghoon lets out a chuckle and a breathy curse. “so cute.”

you smile, then reach for the hem of your top, dragging the fabric up over your head and tossing it aside. his hands twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t move, jaw clenched as he watches you bare yourself to him. you move your arms back to unbuckle your bra, letting it fall down off your shoulders. sunghoon swallows his saliva down at the sight of your perky nipples and rounded tits. how bad he wants to molest those.

“yeah, good boy,” you murmur. “just like that.”

wrapping your hand around his cock, you slide the head between your slippery folds, nudging the flushed tip against your entrance. slowly, you lift your hips and adjust him beneath you as you sink down on him. “ah,” you let out a soft gasp and a whimper at the snug fit, head falls forward momentarily. 

sunghoon let out a soft groan as he indulged himself in the sight of you seated on him. “oh—fuck, so tight…” he murmurs, hands settling on your hips, grounding himself. the feeling of you wrapped around him brings him another wave of pleasure. transitioning from your wet mouth to your warm, slippery pussy is heaven for the guy. 

his head tips back slightly. “so perfect, huh?” he mumbles. you nod and begin raising yourself and sinking back down, riding. “so big, hoonie…” you squeak, whining. “make yourself feel good, bunny.” 

you whimper and begin rhythmically bouncing on him, sliding your pussy up and down on his cock. both of you let out noises of pleasure over the squelching sounds from where the two of you meet. “ah, fuck,” you gasp.

sunghoon rubs circles on your hips, watching you work yourself up and down his dick. his eyes, full with lust and need, content with the sight of your flushed, red face—boobs bouncing with each roll of your hips, “yeah, just like that,” he groans, hands sliding up to your sides to cup your tits, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. “c’mon, you can do better than this. get that tight pussy workin’ yn.” he teases, although sunghoon himself isn’t sure if he can handle it if you actually—

with a scoff and a roll of your eyes, you lift your hips up before slamming them back down on his thick cock—eliciting a groan out of him. the fat head of his cock nestles against your cervix with each pounding thrusts as you pick up your pace. “yeah—? i’m g’nna make you regret that, park sunghoon.”

sunghoon smiles, digging his canines into his bottom lip as he grips your hips, thrusting up into you. the bed creaks beneath, but neither of you can bring yourselves to give a shit. “uh huh, show me what you got, yn ln.” he plays into your game, voice teasing—taunting, even.

his hand from your tit slides up to wrap around your neck just enough to make your breath hitch, thumb brushing the underside of your jaw as he holds you there, chin nudging up. 

—then sunghoon bucks his hips up hard, making you gasp, eyes flying wide before rolling back at the sudden stretch. “that’s more like it,” he mutters through gritted teeth, grinning as you falter above him. “don’t start something you can’t finish.”

you gnaw on the back of sunghoon’s hand, riding him like a cowgirl—his thrusts are erratic, harsh and rough and fast. he slips his index into your mouth, pressing it flat on your tongue as you start sucking on it. 

“sh—shut up, sunghoon,” you manage, rolling your hips around on his cock. sunghoon’s eyes twitch, jaw tightening—something’s different with you today. a lot needier, more reckless, more desperate, brattier. where did his sweet girl go?

sunghon frowns, his grip on your waist tightens as he maneuvers you like a joystick. his chest heaving beneath your hand. “what’s gotten into you, huh?” he breathes, voice low with amusement and strain. “you trying to fuck the feelings out?” he smirks.

“yeah,” you suck on his index, marking crescent moons on his hand with your nails. your eyes fixated on him. “you cheating whore,” 

sunghoon freezes. 

the air shifts—thick and charged.

his brows knit, in both confusion and something darker. “what did you just say?”

your eyes glint, hips never stopping. “you heard me.” with a grunt, you sink down harder just to spite him. “you cheating whore.”

sunghoon’s grip around your throat tightens, tilting your chin up higher. your eyes flutter, winching. his mouth twitches—amused and slightly pissed. inside your pussy, his cock throbs. in excitement. “you wanna talk shit while you’re creaming on my cock?”

is this seriously turning him on?

you clench, walls contracting around his dick like a heartbeat. you don’t respond. “calling me a cheating whore, but you—” sunghoon grunts, snapping his hips up, hard. you let out a cry. “you’re literally dripping over someone’s fiance like a fucking slut.”

you gasp, back arching as he drills into you, each stroke hitting deeper than the last. “say it again.” you moan, spiteful. “cheater. you’re a whore, park sunghoon.”

sunghoon groans, flipping you over in one sharp swift motion, pinning your wrists above your head. “alright yn ln,” he breathes, adjusting his position so your legs are on either side of his hips. “cheating whore, huh?” he smirks, gathering saliva in his mouth before spitting it—hard and sharp on your cunt. “really think i’d fuck anyone else when this cunt is like fucking heaven?”

sunghoon positions the head of his cock at your entrance before slamming into you again, rough and deep—walls fluttering from the intensity. “oh—god!” you cry out—all high pitched and whiny—arching your back off the sheets. 

“yeah,” he grits. “i’ll show you how i fuck sooha since you want it so fucking bad.”

sunghoon watches as his length disappears into your depths. without giving you the time to adjust, he snaps his hips forward, the sudden force jolting a cry from your lips. “you’re so deep!” 

your wrists stay trapped above your head in his firm grip, leaving you arching breathlessly and pathetically beneath him as your walls clench tight. “yeah?” sunghoon swallows the lump in his throat, scoffing. “your pussy’s just so fucking tight,” his hips slam into yours again, harder this time, making the bed creak under the force.

it’s apparent sunghoon got triggered by what you just said to him. his rhythm turns ruthless, hammering into you wildly—deep thrusts followed by shallow, taunting withdrawals that leave you whining. “tighter than sooha—?” you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue, meeting his stare. “is that why you keep coming back to me?” 

sunghoon’s eyes twitch before a low chuckle slips past his lips, stamping you deeper like he’s intent on rearranging your guts. “for such a pretty bitch,” he rasps, hips bucking erratically. “you’ve got such a nasty mouth.” his other hand drags down your thigh, gripping hard enough to bruise.

he hovers over you before burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent—all sweat and sex and melty perfume. sunghoon’s tongue drags slow against your jugular, the wet heat making you shiver beneath. his canines graze just enough to sting before he pulls back. 

your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, heels locking behind as sunghoon weighs himself on top of you. “more, more, more—” you squeak. you begin rhythmically sliding your heat up and down against his abdomen. sunghoon’s grip around your delicate wrists tightens as he shifts from your neck to your cheek, nibbling at the soft flesh. 

“greedy little thing,” he murmurs against the corner of your lips, teeth catching your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. his cock throbs deep in your cunt. sunghoon will never admit it, but he loves it when you get all beggy and messy for him. 

there’s a flicker of pride in the way he watches you squirm beneath him, thighs trembling. “whose pussy is this, huh?” sunghoon snarls, tightening his grip on your wrists until you knuckles ache. “yours, hoonie, all yours,” you whine. if the lewd and filthy moans filling up your apartment haven’t woken up your neighbours yet, the bed creaking and obscene sloshing between your sexes surely will. 

sunghoon heaves exasperatedly as if he just finishes his track—he releases his relentless grip around your wrists and lifts your hips up, the change of angle sends a jolt of electricity through you. “squeeze my cheating cock, baby, c’mon,” he groans, smacking your hips before his thumbs press into your flesh.

you moan at his instruction, feeling your core tighten around him. your walls are pulsing around him as his own movements become more erratic. “can’t believe you got all bratty because you were jealous,” he chuckles, shaking his head like it’s funny. the sound drips with condescension and heat. “what are you trying to prove? that you’re better?” 

sunghoon’s eyes are locked on you while your eyes flutter through your wet lashes. you manage to bring your hands up, palms pressing against his cheek and jaw to shove him away. “don’t—” your breath stutters, “don’t look at me like that.”

he only smirks, leaning harder into your touch like you’re holding him there on purpose. “why not?” he licks the sides of your fingers. “let me look at my sweet girl—since you wanna be my fucking girlfriend so bad, right?” 

“god—” you gasp, nails digging into his skin. his words land like a punch to the gut, you feel your heart clenches. you hate him so fucking much. “shut the fuck up, sunghoon,” you snarl. his hips drive into you hard enough to make the headboard slam against the wall. “make me,” he grits, each thrusting punctuation the challenge.

the brutal rhythm has you unraveling fast. every drag of his cock against your velvety walls hits the same, spongy swollen spot over and over, knocking and bruising your cervix like he could’ve gone past if it’s possible. “fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” heat blooms low in your belly, pressure building sharp you can barely breath. 

your walls spasm around him without permission, wetness gushing in short and desperate. 

sunghoon feels it, the way your slickness only coats his cock wetter. “don’t you fucking dare,” he warns, voice wrecked. he feels the way you clamp and shudder beneath him. “hold it, baby,” sunghoon groans, rocking his hips in punishing strokes. every tremor that runs through your body only forces choked whins from your throat. 

“c’mon, asshole, just fucking give it to me,” you cry, head tilting back against the sheet, voice breaking on the words. your thighs quake around his hips, nails clawing on sunghoon’s broad shoulders. 

“‘m gonna fill you up,” he warns, breath coming in harsh pants. “leave you so stuffed with my cum you won’t even care you’re just my sidewhore.” sunghoon’s hips slam forward like he’s trying to bury his words into you, head of his cock bullying your walls. the pleasure is so intense, your body can’t take it anymore.

not wanting to take any instruction from men, especially ones like park sunghoon—your body tense up as the orgasm overwhelms you—explosive around his cock sliding in and out of you. sunghoon winces at the sensation as you cum around his cock. “fuck, didn’t i—” his hand travels up to grab your tits, fondling, fingers kneading into your skin. “didn’t i tell you to hold it?” 

you bite your bottom lip, back arching into his touch despite yourself. “like i’d listen to any of your shit,” you spit, voice trembling between defiance and high–pitched whimper. his jaw flexes, thrusts turning downright punishing. “do it,” you gasp, “cum inside me,” 

sunghoon leans down, forehead pressing against yours. his breath hot and ragged. “don’t tell me what to do—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans at your cute yelps and needy moans. he’s in absolute heaven to be able to witness this sight—from someone so bratty and naughty, going against her own morals of being a homewrecker, you sure do don’t stand on your stance for that long. 

he cups your cheek, drawing you in close as he attaches his lips against yours—teeth clashing as he slips his tongue in. the ecstasy continues to surge through sunghoon with each slam up to your tightness, your stomach bulging from how deep his cock goes. 

with one hard slam, sunghoon shoots strings of thick, warm, sticky cum pumps inside of you. “shit—! yeah, take it all in, pretty,” he moans aloud, snapping his hips as he spills it all inside of you.

your mind blank, pussy pulsing through the orgasm. sunghoon collapses onto you with a shuddering breath, the last of his release spilling deep as his hips slow to lazy thrusts. his full weight pins you to the mattress, chest heaving against yours. 

he buries his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling hard. you’re still trembling beneath, walls fluttering weakly around him with every tiny shift. your finger stays tangled in his hair, not in affection but because you don’t have the strength to push him off yet. 

sunghoon slides his arms around your back, pulling you in until there’s not a breath of space left between your sweat–slick bodies. he’s cockwarming himself inside of you. “you’re…” you breathe out, face nuzzling into his chest. “you’re such an asshole.” 

he chuckles and it vibrates through his chest against your cheek. “oh please,” he sighs, caressing your hair affectionately. god, sunghoon could never expect you’d have this side of you too. “what sooha doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

you roll your eyes, still catching your breath when he tilts his head, lips brushing your ear. “so…” he trails, nipping and leaving soft, kitten kisses on the shell. “when can i come again?” 

there’s a beat of silence—you should shove him off, tell him to fuck himself.

instead, you only hum, “monday.”

💌 smiley... #guilty... after over 3 months of collecting dusts in my gdocs + waiting for my menstrual... hope u guys enjoy <3 🪽

[hoonharem]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 (p.sh)

él llegó conmigo ───── ୨ৎ ───── y conmigo se va

PAIRING: actor!sunghoon x reader (f)

SUMMARY: when at a gala some girls start looking at your boyfriend as if he was fresh meat, you decide to show them who he belongs to.

WARNINGS: not so innocent comments towards sunghoon, kissing, pet names (baby, hoon), suggestive, smut (after the “☆“ so you can CHOOSE TO SKIP IT), unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy), missionary, making out, creampie, dirty talk, nail marks, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 10th August 2025

WC: 2.4k

TAGLIST: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon @princesstiti14 @mintchocoddeonut @lostgirlysstuff

NOW PLAYING: Gabriela by KATSEYE & Miss possessive by tate mcrae

a/n: since i have no motivation to write the f1 racer hee fic i decided to try and finish this draft! i took inspiration from a reel i saw on instagram, so credit to whoever had made that video 🩷🩷 please SHARE & REBLOG abd lmk your thoughts🫶

The night shimmered like something out of a dream, velvet and gold, the kind of evening where time felt slower and everything glowed just a little more. 

The car ride to the gala had been quiet, not from nerves, but from a shared feeling of disbelief. 

You still couldn’t quite wrap your head arou nd it— Park Sunghoon, your Sunghoon, had been invited to his first industry gala.

You’d watched him in little plays, shaky YouTube shorts, scenes barely seen by anyone but the most dedicated. 

You’d seen him practice in the mirror until midnight, agonize over self-tapes, and sink onto the couch with a sigh that said he wasn't sure if he was ever going to make it to the next audition. 

And now he was here, dressed in a sharp black tuxedo that hugged his waist just right, the satin lapels catching the light. 

He looked like he belonged among stars, but he never stopped holding your hand.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” he whispered when the car pulled up outside the grand marble steps. 

The gala hall towered with gilded ceilings and people who looked like they’d stepped off magazine covers.

“You better start believing,” you smiled, fixing the tie he had nervously re-done five times. “You deserve this.”

And he kissed your knuckles, eyes soft, voice hoarse. “Only because you never let me give up.”

Inside, everything was wonderful, tall crystal chandeliers, clinking glasses and low classical music weaving through the air. 

People milled about in conversation, dazzling and effortless. 

It should’ve been intimidating, and maybe it was, a little. But you and Sunghoon had done your best to be worthy of the night. 

 You wore a sleek gold dress that skimmed your curves and made your collarbones glow under the light. He kept sneaking glances at you like you were the one everyone had come to see.

At some point, a man with silvering hair and a too-wide smile pulled him aside. “Sunghoon, ain’t it? I saw your work in that short film, ‘Ballad of Winter’ right? That was good stuff. Come meet the others.”

You nudged him toward them, even when he looked back at you uncertainly. “Go,” you mouthed. “I’ll be fine.”

You wandered to the champagne table, fingers light on the crystal stem of your glass ad the bubbles tickled your lips. 

Behind you, you heard soft laughter— an unmistakable mix of flirtation and mischief.

You turned your head just slightly to see three women standing nearby, beautiful and too polished for anything but a red carpet. 

They wore gowns that cost more than your rent, eyes rimmed with eyeliner so sharp it could’ve drawn blood.

One of them, the tall one with an open back dress and lips like crushed berries, sipped her drink and tilted her head.

“Who is that guy with the dark hair?” she asked.

“The one who was talking to Minhyuk?” another said, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, pretty face and strong jaw. He looks new… Fresh.”

“Fresh meat,” the third one giggled, like it was some kind of inside joke. “Wonder if he’d want to come home with one of us. Think he’s into threesomes?”

You stayed silent, swirling your champagne with a practiced elegance.

“He does have a nice mouth,” the tall one mused. “Bet he knows how to use it, I could let him eat me alive.”

You turned then, smoothly, as if the conversation had only just caught your ear. “Oh, you’re talking about the actor?”

They looked at you like you were just scenery, and you smiled warm, sweet, and dangerous.

“Sunghoon,” you said, watching their reactions like a cat watching a mouse. “He’s doing well tonight, isn’t he? First gala, I heard. He’s been waiting for this for a long time.”

The berry-lipped girl gave you a perfunctory smile. “You know him?”

You nodded. “Mhm, quite well.”

The third girl tilted her head. “Haven’t seen his face around much. What’s he been in?”

You tilted your head with a venomous smile “Me.” 

There was a beat. Silence stretching just long enough for them to process it.

Their expressions froze, subtle, but unmistakably taken aback. The berry-lipped one narrowed her eyes. The third girl choked slightly on her champagne.

You tilted your head, offered them a parting smile so polite it could cut glass, and turned on your heel.

Your heels clicked softly on the marble floor as you walked back toward him. 

He was just finishing a conversation, nonodding at something the director was saying.

he looked so alive, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with the kind of fire you’d only ever seen in your apartment at 3 a.m. when he read lines aloud and dreamed of someday.

He saw you approaching and smiled, just a little— like a secret passed between two lovers in a crowded room.

You didn’t stop until you were in front of him. 

You reached for him, one hand curling around the lapel of his jacket. “Hey,” you said quietly.

His brows lifted just slightly, amused. “Hi, baby. You okay?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you kissed him.

In front of all of them. 

In front of those girls and the actors and the polished people with too-white teeth. It was a kiss that told a story.

That this wasn’t a fling. That he wasn’t “fresh meat.” That his mouth did know what to do, and it was yours.

He stilled for a moment, caught off guard, but only for a moment. 

Then his hands were on your waist, pulling you close, kissing you back like nothing else existed. Like the crowd around you melted into shadows.

When you pulled away, breath warm and eyes locked, he let out a soft, stunned laugh. “What… was that for?”

You smiled. “Just wanted to remind a few people who you’re going home with.”

His eyes darkened, playful and utterly in love. “You didn’t have to mark your territory, you know.”

You leaned in, voice low against his ear. “Didn’t I?”

He laughed again, this time quieter, as if the sound was just for you. “You’re dangerous.”

You stepped back, smoothing your dress. “Only when someone forgets what’s mine.”

He looked at you like you were something sacred. “I didn’t forget.”

You threaded your fingers through his again, settling at his side while he introduced you to his new contacts, feeling their eyes linger on the way he never stopped looking at you. 

☆.

By the time the two of you stumbled back into Sunghoon’s apartment, the champagne warmth was still fizzing in your veins like a secret, making everything feel a little softer, a little bolder. 

The door clicked shut behind you, and the hallway light caught the smirk on his face, loose and boyish, flushed from the excitement of the night and the alcohol on his tongue. 

He toed off his shoes lazily while you leaned against the wall, one heel dangling from your fingers, the other long since abandoned on the stairs.

His apartment hadn’t changed since college. The same narrow couch with a throw blanket that never quite matched, the chipped mug on the counter with a half-dead pen sticking out, the over-watered plant you’d gifted him that refused to die. 

Sunghoon glanced over his shoulder, tie hanging loose now, shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease the dip of his collarbone. “You sure you don’t want a glass of water? You’re swaying a little.”

You grinned, crossing the room barefoot, hips swaying a little on purpose now. “I’m not drunk drunk. Just drunk enough.”

He caught your waist as you passed, pulling you in with that easy strength that always made your breath catch. “You were perfect tonight,” he murmured, voice rough at the edges. “Fucking stunning.”

You dragged a finger down the open seam of his shirt. “So were you. I told you already, you’re dangerously hot in that tux… if i didn’t already have you, I’d want to steal you from the room.”

He leaned down, his nose brushing yours. “You already did, a very long time ago.”

You kissed him then, slow and deep, your hands slipping under his shirt to feel the heat of his skin. 

He groaned softly, lips parting as his hands trailed down the curve of your back. When you pulled away, breathless and smiling, he chased your mouth with a soft whine.

“I forgot to tell you something,” you said, playing with the second button of his shirt.

“Mm?” His lips brushed your neck.

“There were girls at the gala.” you let your voice dip, syrupy sweet. “By the champagne, they were alking about you.”

He paused. “Yeah?”

You nodded, mouth brushing the shell of his ear. “They wanted to take you home, said you looked like fresh meat. That they bet your mouth was good for a few things.”

Sunghoon straightened a little, the air shifting. “What the fuck—”

“I told them you were an actor,” you said, smiling like the devil. “And they asked me what you’d been in.”

He blinked.

“And I said, ‘me.’”

A beat passed before he burst laughing. “You really said that?”

“Deadass,” you purred. “You should’ve seen their faces.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, grabbing your waist tighter. “You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind.”

“Then lose it.”

The tension snapped.

He slammed you gently back against the nearest wall, lips crashing into yours with the kind of kiss that promised bruises. 

His hands slid down your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing, and you wrapped around him instinctively, gasping into his mouth.

“You think my mouth’s good for a few things?” he growled.

“Oh, I know that.” you whispered. “But maybe I need a reminder?”

He carried you to the bedroom, all heat and tension, and dropped you onto the bed with a soft bounce. 

You laughed breathlessly, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs. He stood at the foot of the bed for a second, chest rising and falling, eyes raking over you like he was starving.

“Take it off,” you murmured, nodding at his shirt.

He stripped without a word, tossing the fabric aside. 

His skin was flushed, a light sheen of sweat already dusting his chest, and you bit your lip watching his fingers go to his belt.

But before he could finish, you sat up and reached for him, unzipping your dress and pushing it down your shoulders with a slow, practiced shrug. 

You tossed it on the floor, not remembering how expensive it actually was.

His eyes darkened at the sight, lace bra and bare skin, your thighs spread just enough to make him twitch inside his pants.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Get on the pillows.”

You did, crawling back slowly, deliberately, the mattress dipping beneath your knees. He followed you, kissing a trail down your stomach, teeth grazing lightly at the band of your panties before he peeled them off with a low groan.

“You’re so wet already,” he murmured, sliding two fingers through your pussy lips, slow and shallow. “You like showing off for me, huh?”

“Only for you,” you whispered, arching into his touch.

When his mouth met you, it was everything, hot and skilled and filthy, his tongue circling your clit with slow, devastating precision. 

His hands held your thighs open, firm and steady, keeping you right where he wanted you as he licked and sucked like he’d been thinking about this all night.

You were panting in minutes, clutching the sheets, legs trembling.

“Sunghoon,” you gasped. “Oh my god— fuck— Hoon—”

He groaned against you, the vibration making your back arch. “You taste so good… So fucking perfect for me.”

Your orgasm crept up like a tidal wave, and when it hit, you cried out his name, loud and unashamed. 

He didn’t stop, licking you through it, moaning like your pleasure was feeding his own.

When he finally came up, chin slick, eyes heavy with lust, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and crawled up over you. 

You pulled him in by the waistband of his black slacks, undoing the button, dragging the zipper down slowly as you kissed him, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“Wanna feel you,” you whispered. “Need you inside.”

“You have no idea how much I need you right now,” he groaned, kicking off his pants and pushing your thighs apart again. “Gonna take my time… you deserve it, don’t you?”

You bit your lip as you stared down at him, his thick length pressing between your folds just enough to drive you crazy.

He slid in slowly, stretching you inch by inch until you were gasping, your hands flying to his back. The stretch burned in the best way, delicious and deep, and when he bottomed out, he paused, forehead against yours.

“You okay?”

“Don’t stop,” you breathed. “Please, just move”

And he did.

He fucked you slow at first, hips rolling steady, deep enough to knock the air from your lungs. Every thrust hit just right, his hands gripping your thighs, your waist, your wrists. 

His breath was hot against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispered how tight you were, how good you felt, how you were his and his alone.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, faster, chasing that second high like it owed you something. Your nails raked down his back as your moans filled the room, each one louder than the last.

“Come with me,” he panted, voice rough. “Wanna feel you— wanna make you shake again… milk my cock, baby.”

And you did. 

You clenched around him, back arching, his name falling from your lips in a broken cry as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. 

He followed seconds after, hips stuttering, spilling inside you with a hoarse groan and a whispered “Fuck, I love you.” that broke your heart open.

He collapsed beside you, breathing heavily, sweat slicking his chest. You turned into him, draping your leg over his waist, and he kissed your forehead softly.

“Best night of my life,” he whispered.

You smiled against his skin. “Told you that tux would kill me.”

“I think you killed me,” he muttered, and you both laughed, warm and tangled and still glowing from the night.

The champagne had worn off, but the high of him, of his mouth, his body, his love, was more than enough to carry you through the rest of the night.

And perhaps the morning after, too.

[hoonharem]

✦ TASTE OF HEAVEN ⸻ p.sh

boyfriend's best friend!sunghoon x jake's girlfriend!reader

You know you shouldn’t be in your boyfriend’s best friend’s bed—but you just couldn’t contain your desires for that taste of heaven.

this work contains ⋆ smut. ⋆ minors dni. ⋆ cheating. ⋆ angst if u squint (for jake) fingering oral (f rec.) implied riding & unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it !) reader & hoon are both shit people can we give jake a hug. . . slight ambigious ending? one usage of whore tiny bit of degradation HOON CALLS READER DOLL 👅

length ⋆ drabble ⸻ 82O wc.

✦ nina's note. my first work ! credits to intromortal for the layout ! ♡ please remember that this is all fiction and i am not a jake anti nor do i support cheating—this is simply for my perversed desires that i decided to share for my other fellow freaks out here. if you don't like it, don't read.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be on his bed, you shouldn’t have his tongue swirling in your cunt, you shouldn’t be a panting and whimpering mess under him, you shouldn’t be here at all.

But you just couldn’t resist his charming looks—his smooth voice laced with lust—his eyes that would take their time drinking your sinful body in. How could you not?

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, doll?” Sunghoon grunts against your wetness, sending shivers up your spine at the sensation. He lifts his head up to stare into your eyes, chin dripping with your arousal.

“You thinking of that boyfriend of yours?” Your sweet Jake. Your sweet Jake who has done nothing wrong, who has throughout your one and a half year of dating has continuously treated you with such gentleness and care.

But here you are. Getting your pussy thoroughly eaten out by none other than his best friend. You should feel guilty—feel so disgusted of yourself—but feeling Sunghoon’s hands roam across your body, tongue fucking in and out of you like a coin slot—you’ve dug too deep to crawl your way out.

You shake your head no in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling it back towards your dripping cunt. “Needy, are we?” He chuckles low under his breath, sucking your sensitive nub into his mouth only to pull away the second you’re close. You whine pitifully, wanting to just get it over with.

Upon hearing your whine, Sunghoon decides to give you mercy by sliding his slim fingers inside you slowly, feeling you clench around him in response. You sigh in relief, grinding down on his fingers. He holds your hip in warning, forcing you to submit at his pace. You’ve never been fucked this good by Jake, and Sunghoon’s only been eating you out.

As if reading your mind, Sunghoon asks, “Is he better?” But he doesn’t end there. “Do you clench around his fingers as much as around mine? Do you moan like a whore this much when he fucks you?” He meanly pinches your clit with his thumb, earning a particularly loud whine from you.

“N-no! Never! You f-fuck me better than him! You, only you! Always you!” You somehow manage to jumble a string of words out as his fingers quicken their pace, ducking his head to swirl his sinful tongue around your clit. Sunghoon groans at your words, his growing erection straining against the tight fabric of his sweatpants, a forming wet patch prominent where his arousal is located—practically begging to be let out and sink into your intoxicating cunt.

As he continued to suck your clit, your pussy began tightening around his fingers, signaling your upcoming release. You finally squirt messily all over the bottom half of his face—nose, chin, lips—all drenched in your arousal. He groans against your cunt, fucking you through it as spurts of cum leave marks on his bedsheets. You whine in overstimulation, chest full of bite marks heaving up and down.

After a few minutes calming down, you perk up at the sound of Sunghoon shoving his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, dick lying hard and heavy against his abs. Sunghoon was bigger than Jake in both length and width, pretty veins running up and down his cock as precum dripped down the side.

Your mouth watered at the sight, pussy clenching around nothing. You wanted to shove it inside you quickly. He abruptly flips the both of you over, resulting in you straddling his hips as your wetness glides across his aching tip, both of you groaning in unison.

“Hope you’re ready for a ride, doll.”

The next day, Sunghoon and you pretend like nothing ever happened. You kiss Jake’s cheek, slide your arm across his bicep, rest your head against his shoulder as if you hadn’t just fucked his best friend yesterday that night. As if you didn’t just cheat on him mere hours earlier.

The best friend in name who’s currently sat right across from you.

From seeing your closeness with Jake, Sunghoon’s demeanor changes a bit. He clenches his jaw, exhaling through his nose heavily, veiny hand clenching around his knee. Not that you were paying attention to his body language.

As Jake converses with one of his other friends, you can feel Sunghoon’s eyes boring holes into the side of your head.

You turn ever so slowly, greeted with the sight that he is indeed, staring at you. Your eyes meet, the tension immediately becoming so thick you could choke on it. But, you felt a bit bold today.

You slyly smirked at him just to gently kiss Jake’s neck—while staring directly at Sunghoon. You could see him sharply inhale, veins becoming more visible as he tightened his hand into a fist. The grin across your face grows bigger.

Maybe this could be a bit fun, after all.

taglist : open !

[hoonharem]

pretty please? (p.sh)

pairing: inexperienced bf!sunghoon x experienced gf!reader

preview: sunghoon is still new to the whole sex thing. so, you'll teach him.

tags/warnings: fem reader, clit play, hair pulling, choking, degradation, mentions of passing out, like one spank, guided sex (at first), switchy dynamics, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: mentions of being used while unconscious, unrealistic representation of being a virgin

wc: 1.1k

song rec for this fic: hold on tight by aespa

a/n: i have nothing to say about this

"listen, i'm gonna give you an anatomy lesson, okay?"

sunghoon nods curiously, looking at you with complete attention and innocence. "okay... i'm listening. teach me, y/n."

"so in women, the hole you put your cock in has a special pleasure spot called the g-spot. only certain lengths can get it." you smile at him proudly.

"you, my dear, go past it. which makes it so much better because you hit it every time" his eyes widen in understanding, his cheeks still flushed.

"so that's why it felt so good for you... i was hitting that spot..."

he looks genuinely fascinated by this new information, his scientific curiosity piqued. "does that mean i can make you feel even better next time?"

"there's a special way to do that." you sit up slightly. "hit the g-spot and touch the clit, which is the external bundle of nerves"

sunghoon sits up as well, his attention completely focused on your lesson. "the clit... i remember reading about that. how do i touch it while... you know..." he looks at you with a mix of determination and nervousness, wanting to learn properly.

"can i show you?"

he nods eagerly, his eyes filled with trust and eagerness to learn. "yes, please show me... i want to make you feel incredible every time."

you take his cock in your hand, stroking him to get him hard again. he gasps at your touch, already starting to get aroused again despite having just finished.

"y/n... that feels amazing... but how will this help me touch your clit?" he watches your hand intently, his breath becoming heavier as he gets harder in your grip.

"just wait," you slide down on him again, sighing. he moans softly as you take him in again, his hands instinctively gripping your hips. "i'm waiting... you're so beautiful when you're like this..."

"okay..." you take his hand and guide it between your legs. you place the pad of his finger on your clit. "there." his finger trembles slightly as he feels your clit, his eyes locked on the spot he's touching. "i... i can feel it... it's so soft..."

he gently starts rubbing it in small circles, mimicking what he's seen in health class but unsure if he's doing it right. "different girls will like different things. i like..." you move his hand faster and in tighter circles. "this way."

he watches you intensely as you guide his movements, his breathing becoming more labored with each circle. "like this... faster... tighter..." he follows your instructions perfectly, his other hand gripping your thigh as he tries to memorize exactly how you like it.

"now mix the two..." you move your hips up and down, your eyes immediately crossing.

he watches your eyes cross with fascination and excitement, his movements becoming more confident as he combines the circular motion with your hip movements.

"just like that... you're so wet... i can feel everything..." sunghoon maintains the pace you set, his own pleasure building again as he watches you unravel above him.

your legs tremble faster this time. you're almost drooling in pleasure. his eyes darken with desire as he sees your reaction, his own cock throbbing inside you. "you're close again... i can feel your walls tightening..."

he continues his movements with precision, determined to make you cum again while also trying to hold back his own release. "do you wanna know something else that makes me feel really good?" he nods quickly, his voice husky with lust.

"tell me... i want to know everything that makes you feel good..."

you smile darkly. "you gotta trust me on this"

he looks at you with complete trust and surrender. "i trust you completely, y/n. tell me whatever you want me to do..."

"be really mean to me." his eyes widen in surprise, then a mischievous glint appears.

"mean? like how? tell me exactly what you want me to do..."

"call me names. hit me," you say, pathetically.

he hesitates for a moment, his protective nature fighting against this request. "i... i don't want to hurt you, y/n. but if it's what you really want..." he suddenly grabs your hair and pulls it roughly. "you're such a dirty little slut, aren't you? taking my cock like this?*

your eyes roll back into your head at his words "yes fuck... more."

sunghoon growls, becoming more dominant as he sees your reaction. "you're my little whore. say it. say you're my whore who loves being used." he thrusts up into you harder while maintaining his grip on your hair, his free hand slapping your ass.

"i'm your whore... fuck i love being used," you whimper, your legs shaking. he smirks darkly, the innocent boy completely transformed into a dominant force. "that's right. you're mine to use whenever i want. i own this pussy."

he starts pounding into you relentlessly, his hips snapping against yours with brutal force. "oh god!" you cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders. he grabs your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"no god here. just me making, you scream. now take it all, you filthy girl." he tightens his grip and continues his brutal pace, his other hand moving to your clit again.

"harder. choke me harder"

you place your hands on his chest, your hips moving to meet his thrusts. he squeezes your throat tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you with animalistic intensity.

"you're going to pass out if i choke you harder. you want that? want me to make you black out while i'm deep inside you?" you nod mindlessly. "yes fuck... and keep using my unconscious body..."

sunghoon's eyes flash with primal desire at your request, his movements becoming even more aggressive. "such a dirty, depraved girl... i'll use your body however i want." he increases the pressure on your throat while maintaining his pace, watching your face carefully to ensure you're still conscious enough to enjoy it.

"so close..." you barely manage to squeak. he can feel your walls fluttering around him, signaling your impending climax. "cum for me one last time before you pass out. i want to feel you clench around my cock."

your jaw falls slack, all the air getting knocked out of your lungs with your orgasm.

he releases your throat as you cum, allowing you to breathe again while he continues thrusting through your orgasm. "good girl... that's it... take every drop of my cum while you're out."

he watches as your body convulses, knowing he's about to reach his own limit as well. you fall limp against him, on the brink of unconsciousness. sunghoon holds you close, supporting your weight as he feels your body go slack. "fuck... so tight..."

he groans deeply, his cock pulsing inside you as he finally lets go, filling you with his hot cum while you drift into darkness. you black out on top of him as he finishes inside you. he stays still, panting heavily as he feels your body go completely limp against his chest.

he strokes your hair gently, admiring how peaceful you look unconscious.

"such a perfect little toy…” 

© lomlhwa 2025

[hoonharem]

can i request fingering with hoon and he’s jerking himself off too ! !

信息 ܃ FUCK YES YOU CAN i had so much fun writing rhis

smut. ✿ fingering masturbating hoon is a freak

sunghoon’s got you sprawled in his lap, back flush to his chest, thighs spread wide by the grip of his knees caging you in. his hand between your legs is soaked, slick dripping down to his wrist as two of his fingers fuck up into you with wet, obscene squelches. every thrust is hard and deep, curling against that spot that has you whining and clenching, his thumb grinding mercilessly over your clit. his other hand is pumping his cock—slow at first, just dragging his palm over the head to smear the pre all over himself before stroking faster, each twist making his breath hitch against your ear.

“fuck—listen to that, baby,” he groans, burying his face against your jaw, “hear how wet you are for me? got my fingers drowning in your little cunt while i’m jerking off—shit—” his hips twitch, precum dripping over your stomach where his cock is pressed close.

your head lolls back onto his shoulder, mouth open in a moan that turns shaky when his fingers hit just right. your thighs try to snap shut but he hooks his foot around your calf and drags you wide again, forcing you open for him. “nah—keep those pretty legs spread, let me see it,” he orders, eyes locked between them. “wanna watch you gush all over my hand when you cum for me.”

he’s working himself fast now, cock slick and angry red, the head leaking so much it’s wetting his knuckles. his fingers inside you match the pace, thrusting deep and curling until you’re crying out, your release gushing over his hand, soaking the inside of his thighs. he groans, hips jerking forward, cum spilling in hot, thick ropes over your lower belly, your clit, even streaking his own fingers still buried inside you.

you can feel him twitch against you, still pumping himself lazily as his cum drips down over your folds, mixing with the mess he’s pulled out of you. “look at that,” he pants, pulling his fingers free and rubbing them through the combined slick and cum between your legs. “fuck—so messy, baby. next time, i’m keeping it inside you.”

[hoonharem]

❝ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐭 ❞ - p.sh

You’ve done dozens of fittings before Park Sunghoon—he’s designed for countless models. But what happens when he asks you to try on something that wasn't made for magazines?

pairing: designer!sunghoon x model!reader

genre: fashion au, romance, mutual pining, smut

This content is only for readers 18+

word count: 9.3k

content warning: strong language, oral sex (f. receiving, face riding), riding, light restraint, dom/sub undertones, praise kink, undressing/dressing kink, semi-public kiss, power imbalance, marking/hickeys, crying during sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ppl), aftercare, self-esteem/body image issues, angst

soundtrack: diamonds are forever- sabrina carpenter / sos (sex on sight) - victoria monet & usher / positions - ariana grande

You can’t help but notice how perfect Park Sunghoon's hands are as they trace across your waist. Still, calculated, not a sliver of doubt in his movements.

You stood nearly naked in front of him, but he didn’t seem fazed. He’s faced this countless times with countless models, so what makes this time any different? 

The cold measuring tape traces your skin as he wraps it around your waist. He drops down on one knee, holding his pen between his lips. 

“Exhale for me.” His voice cuts through the near silence. 

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until his words rang through your ears. On command, you let out a shaky breath. Sunghoon pulls the measuring tape tight around your waist before jotting down the number. 

He doesn’t even look at you as he sinks to his knees. Dirt brushing across his dark slacks as his hands pull the measuring tape between your thighs. 

You shift nervously, arms burning as you hold them out at your sides. He pulls the measuring tape tight, jotting down the measurements onto his notepad without a word. 

You don’t look at the number, you can’t. It’ll only hurt you more. 

“Thank you. I’ll have your designs tailored promptly.” Sunghoon says professionally. He stands up without giving you a second glance.

You freeze, feeling overwhelmed and confused in the same. Why is he being so cold? Is he like this with every model? 

You even realize you're staring into nothingness. Not until Sunghoon clears his throat, snapping you out of your spiral.

“You can get dressed-“ he says again, cold, harsh.

“Oh yes! Sorry—“ you stammer out as you nearly trip off the fitting stand. Your bare feet brush across the cold floor as you cross the room, swiftly grabbing you’re robe to cover your exposed skin. 

Sunghoon watches his expression stoic, unchanging as he notices your shaking hands, tying the robe tight in front of you. 

“My assistant Sunoo will be with you shortly to go over the run for Saturday's show. We’ll—see where you fit in.” Sunghoon says as he grips his notebook and pen tightly before leaving out the door. 

It shuts quietly, the sound cutting through the hum of silence as you’re left alone in the fitting room.

You exhale, finally. 

Park Sunghoon was Prada’s youngest designer. His designs caught the attention of the higher ups early, and since then he’s been designing piece after piece, show after show. 

It’s like he never runs out of designs; you can’t figure out how he juggles it all. 

The catch, though? He keeps to himself. 

While the other staff were friendly but professional, Sunghoon was cold, calculated, sharp, and harsh. 

You can’t tell what he’s feeling, can’t sense what he’s thinking. He’s like a blank white canvas with no paint.

He didn’t even look at you. 

You let out a frustrated groan as you hear the door creak open, but this time, a different energy flows through the cracks.

“I’m Sunghoon’s assistant Sunoo, it’s so nice to meet you!” He says, grinning from ear to ear, notebook in hand. 

It feels like whiplash, the stark coldness of Sunghoon being replaced with the warmth of his assistant.

You force a smile back, mind still lingering on Sunghoon’s calculated touch.

You kindly give Sunoo your name as he extends his hand to yours. You take it, and in return, he shakes your hand with enthusiasm. 

“I am so excited to have you as a part of the team! You are going to kill it on Saturday, just look at you!” Sunoo says, giving you a soft look up and down. Nose scrunching with excitement.

You stutter at the generous comment, immediately pushing the words to the back of your mind. It can't be genuine. He's just saying what he's told to say.

“Well, but—“ 

“Those legs? Gorgeous. Let’s figure out where you’ll be in the lineup.” He interrupts with a smile and a compliment? 

You shift nervously, aching to steady your footing as he licks his fingertip, flipping the pages of his notebook.

“How tall are you again?” He asks curiously, his eyes locked on the pages in front of him.

“Uh..I’m…” you stutter, still trying to recover from the emotional whiplash.

“Ahh, it’s written right here! You’ll probably be in the middle, not first but not last. So no pressure this time around.” Sunoo says with a smile. 

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” You say as your arms cross over your chest. Your foot is tapping anxiously against the ground.

“Looks like you’ll be in design 23—SO excited, let me grab it for you. I’ll get you situated before the boss comes back.” Sunoo says, clapping his hands together with excitement. He slips out of the room, leaving you again in silence.

It doesn’t last long, soon Sunoo is rolling in a cart of designs, you’re eyes light up as you see the colors of the dresses hanging on the rack. 

Did Sunghoon design all these beautiful pieces? 

Guess he does live up to his reputation.

Sunoo flips through the designs as the sound of metal hangers clicking together echoes. You watch as the white light of the fitting room shines on the textures of the fabrics. 

You can’t lie to yourself, Sunghoon is talented.

“Number 22—Ah, number 23...” Sunoo mutters under his breath as he takes the garment off the rack and holds it in both hands.

It’s a stunning piece, lots of sheer white fabric draped almost like a Greek sculpture. It’s got a gentle sheen, catching the light in a flattering way. 

Sunoo hands you the piece, and you take it gently, feeling the brush of the smooth, silky fabric beneath your fingertips. 

You step behind the curtain. Slipping off your robe and sliding into the piece. It’s not the best fit. Some places are too tight, others too loose. But that’s what the measurements are for. 

You step out into the open. The white dress, sheer, complimenting the undertone of your skin. It’s a high cut on the hip, showing off your legs. 

“Oh my God…Sunghoon has outdone himself—it’s stunning. You’re stunning.” Sunoo says as you stand back on the platform in front of him. 

You smile nervously at the praise. Your feet are shifting under your weight as the cool air sends shivers across your exposed skin. 

The neckline cuts low, showing off your collarbone and other assets. Your shoulders stand out against the sleeveless nature of the design. 

The dress looks like it’s made of stained glass, the sheen catching the light. The fabric flows like water pooling gracefully at your feet.

Sunoo’s right. 

It’s stunning.

So why do you feel the need for a rebuttal? 

Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted by the click of the door. Your shoulders hunch nervously, your heart rate picking up as you notice who it is. 

Sunghoon adjusts his glasses as he steps back into the sterile room. His steps are swift, quick.

Sunoo steps out of the way as he forcefully marches through the room. Not even giving his assistant a second glance. 

Your hands shake at your sides as he looks at you again. His gaze makes you want to claw at your own burning skin. 

“Turn around.” He asks coldly. 

You shiver again. Exhaling as you hesitate before making a shaky 180 on the platform. 

You were used to being exposed like this, but now you can’t help but tremble. The fabric cascades down your spine, exposing more than enough skin from the nature of the cut.

You flinch as he takes a step closer. His fingertips untying the back of the dress you messily attempted to tie onto yourself.. 

You suck in a sharp breath. Holding your hands over your stomach as Sunghoon’s fingertips untie the dress, only to neatly lace it back up into place. 

He pulls the dress tight. His hands lingered a moment longer than they should. 

He pulls away to look you up and down, his eyes running across the dress as it flows down your body. 

“The pleats aren’t lying straight on your hips..” he mumbles under his breath. You aren’t entirely sure if you were meant to catch it. 

“Sorry..” you mumble, dropping your head to avoid his gaze, not wanting to see him or yourself anymore in the mirror. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s not you. It’s an easy fix. Sunoo?” Sunghoon gestures. Sunoo knows exactly what he needs, bringing him a roll of white thread and a delicate needle. 

He bends back down, situating himself on one knee, pinning the fabric into place as he delicately stitches it onto your form. 

You can’t help but feel nervous, a shiver races up your spine as you feel his fingertips on your body again.

“You’re shaking…” Sunghoon whispers as his fingertips trace across your hip. His eyes stay narrowed on the fabric as he pins and stitches it to lie perfectly across your body. 

“Sorry I—“

“Stop apologizing..” Sunghoon says as he pulls the seam tight. You shut your mouth and eyes wide at his remark. Any comeback getting caught in the tightness of your throat.

“It’s a simple fix, you haven’t done anything wrong—trust me,” Sunghoon whispers weakly. You shudder, the words hitting the warmth of your heart. 

Sunghoon pulls the thread tight, ripping it with his mouth before pinning the needle to his shirt. 

He takes a few steps back, just looking at the dress. 

Looking at you. 

He lets out a shaky breath as his expression changes, enough for you to notice but not enough to read. 

“I want you—in this, on Saturday…” Sunghoon says softly. His voice no longer commanding. 

“You’re exactly the type of woman I had in mind for this design…” Sunghoon confirms. You can’t tell if he’s glancing at you. Or at the fabric cascading down your form. 

His eyes meet yours again. That's when you realize—

He's not staring at the dress.

He opens his mouth to continue, to say something—anything. But the words slide back down the back of his throat.

He awkwardly clears his throat again, suddenly cracking the tightness in his knuckles before tearing his eyes away from your body.

“Let Sunoo know if you need any help undressing. I’ll have the dress tailored for you before this weekend.” Sunghoon concludes.

 And with that, he’s out the door.

Your chest feels tight and you feel like you can’t breathe. But the feeling of Sunoo’s fingertips gently unlacing the back of your dress brings you back into reality. 

You exhale sharply as the fabric loosens around your waist, your skin hot, mind still running calculations on Sunghoon’s unreadable tone.

“He’s right, you know. This dress was made for you.” Sunoo says softly as his fingertips loosen the ties at your back, as you hold up the front of your dress.

“Thanks...” you say as his fingertips leave your skin. The dress is now only being held up by the weight of your hands. 

You step behind the curtain, carefully stepping out of the dress as you let it sink to the floor. You pull your robe back over your body, mind still lingering on the warmth of Sunghoon’s touch.

Your arms carefully tuck under the sparkling garment as you bring the garment back towards the rack.

Sunoo gives you a weak smile, his soft eyes turning up at the sides. You shiver, and he sees through the mask. Like he sees right through you. 

He takes the dress, hanging it back up with the rest of the designs without another word. 

“First fittings are always the hardest. Truly, don’t let it get to you. You’re amazing, I can tell.” Sunoo says with another gentle smile. 

Your heart feels like it’s being tugged in so many directions. You open your mouth to speak, but all you can do is reply with a soft nod. 

And with that, Sunoo rolls the designs out the door, letting it slam shut, leaving you once again alone in the silence. 

It hits you hard. Maybe because Sunghoon didn’t glance back as he left the door. Maybe you wanted him to. 

You can't shake the memory of his fingertips, gentle and steady as he sewed you into that dress.

You don’t know whether to be intimidated or excited for your first walk. 

୨୧

The Saturday show sneaks up on you quickly. Backstage is bustling with activity. Makeup artists, models, hairstylists. The loud backstage chatter only amplifies your racing thoughts. 

You push through the crowd. Gently clasping onto the edge of your robe for support. Until you find exactly who you’re looking for. 

Sunoo lets out a gasp of surprise when he sees you with your hair and makeup perfectly styled. His clipboard rests on his hip as he looks you up and down, jaw dropped, completely stunned. 

“Oh my God—Sunghoon is going to flip when—“

“I’m going to what?” You hear a deep voice slice through the noise. It makes you jump a few inches back. 

Sunghoon steps from behind one of the backstage curtains. Dressed in a sleek black suit—complimenting his dark hair and pale skin as he looks down at you. His expression unchanging. 

You watch as he steps through the heavy curtain, heart fluttering as you notice just how good he looks in this moment.

His deep brows furrow, his eyes taking you up and down like so many times before. 

“You’re cut.” He says bluntly.

You nearly gasp. Your heart sinks deep into your stomach at his words. 

“I’m—I’m cut?” You whisper. Voice trembling underneath all the backstage noise. Sunghoon lets out a sharp huff. His strong arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at you. Again. 

You can’t believe this is happening, never in all these years of modeling have you been cut, especially on the day of the show.

Sunghoon’s gaze stays stoic as he watches you compute, the words making so many emotions race through you at once.

“You’re not walking—You’re not ready,” Sunghoon says harshly. His words carve through your heart like a knife. 

Your legs tremble, but you fight it, holding back the tears as your chest only gets tighter and tighter. 

He’s serious, he's seriously cutting you.

You came here to prove yourself. To make it known that you were something worth seeing. 

Yet you haven't even gotten into the dress yet, and you’re scared. Scared to be anything bigger than small. Scared to break out of a mold you spent years training to fit into. 

You’re not ready.

That fucking hurts more than it should. 

Because you know deep down. He’s right.

You glance up into his dark eyes, silently pleading for him to change his mind.

He hesitates, brows furrowing, maybe in apology?

Sunghoon doesn’t give you another moment to think. He turns on his heel. Not giving you another glance as he disappears into the sea of chaos.

All of a sudden, your skin feels hot, your robe is too tight, the backstage lights too bright. Your mind chest feels like it's on fire, the loud backstage chatter only making things worse.

You have to get out of here.

You immediately push through the chaos in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” Sunoo calls out, but you don’t look back. The only thing on your mind is getting away from the chaos, getting as far away as possible from him.

Sunoo follows behind you, desperately trying to get your attention until he finds you in a dark hallway in the backrooms of the stage.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—“ Sunoo comforts. He tucks his clipboard under his arm as he steps closer. His expression was concerned as you fight back the tears aching to spill.

“It’s ok..really…” You choke out. A sob gets caught in your throat. You can’t hold back, the tears silently falling. Tearing a path through your professionally done makeup. 

“It’s not ok. He’s harsh, he truly means well—I think? God, he shouldn’t have done that to you. Not now.” Sunoo says with a gentle tone. His soft hands gently wipe the tears from your face as he tries not to smear any more makeup.

“He’s just—“ Sunoo mumbles, words getting caught in his throat as he searches for the words. 

You glance up at him, face tearstained as black makeup runs down your cheeks. There has to be a reason; he can’t just be doing this out of pure disservice.

Sunoo’s heart breaks as he looks down at you, his fingertips starting to tremble as he smears more tear-stained makeup across your face.

 “Never mind.” He whispers, replacing his concern with the usual soft smile in an attempt to make things better.

You cry, and he gently holds your hands as you sit on the dirty floor of one of the dark backstage halls. Tears falling into your lap. Chest aching with each sob.

Tonight was supposed to be your big debut here; you were supposed to wear the show-stopping design “made for a woman like you.”

You thought maybe this time—

You don’t know whether to curse or scream, or cry. 

Before you can do either, Sunoo’s gentle hands soothe your back. His voice was soft in the chaos and ruin.

“Do you want me to call you a car?” He offers. 

“Please…please thank you, Sunoo..” you reply as you wipe your sniffly nose with the back of your hand. Sunoo stands up, resting his clipboard on his hip as he extends his free hand to you. 

You smile through the tears at the kind gesture, gently taking his hand in yours as he helps you stand up from the dirty tile. 

The drive home is devastating. You glance out the window, seeing countless photographers and reporters doing interviews on the red carpet. The ache is inexplicably painful. 

That was supposed to be you out there.

The flashing lights soon disappear into a blur in the distance. 

With your luck, of course, it starts to rain. The city was soon enveloped in a cloud of murky gray. The water hits the car, the pavement, and the roads immediately get congested. 

You feel the tears starting to fall again, the driver rolling his eyes like you're not the only sobbing girl he's had to drive around tonight.

You try to be patient, try to wait. 10 minutes go by, then 20.

You’re itching to get out of the car, the rain already making the city feel more crowded than any other weekend night.

“You can just let me out here, I’ll walk the rest.” You inform the driver. 

He nods, unlocking the back door for you to step out of the car without another word. 

You step into the rain. Bare feet hitting the wet sidewalk as you hold your heels in your hand. The rain soaks your hair, ruining the perfect styling. You start to walk down the bustling city streets. 

Soaked, makeup running, no shoes. 

And you can’t even bring yourself to care. 

“You’re not walking—“

“You’re not ready—“ 

You squint. Tears mingling with the falling raindrops as you round the corner to your apartment building. 

You step into the lobby completely soaked. The receptionist yells something about you being soaked.

Maybe someone called out, maybe not. You couldn’t hear a single thing besides Sunghoon's words in your head. 

And that night, you cried yourself to sleep. 

Because you want to hate him.

But you know in your heart he’s right. 

୨୧

The weekend passes by in a blur. Missed calls, missed meals. You’re devastated and can’t bring yourself to do more. 

You sit lazily on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through the channels. One brain-dead show after another. 

It helps numb the pain, helps keep the thought of failure after failure out of your mind. 

At least one 45-minute episode at a time.

You feel your phone buzz under the blankets. Out of habit, you pick it up to check. 

Sunoo(7:49pm) The boss wanted me to send you this. He wants to see you.  291 Mildrige  Ln,   10007, Manhattan, NY APT 108 Come after hours.  -p.sh

Sunoo(7:50pm) You don’t have to go, but I think you might want to. Not sure if he’s trying to fix this. But he might be. 

You stare at the screen. Shooting back a thank you text out of courtesy.

After hours? Seriously? He’s got to be joking. 

You let out a deep sigh before unpausing your show. Trying to get your mind off of Sunghoon. Despite his brutal words, you linger on the gentleness in his touch. 

But your heart is tugging at you. The way his fingertips brushed against your waist. The way he said that dress was made for you.

So why would he cut you? Why sew you into a dress like you were the only woman in the world he could touch? 

Your curiosity gets the best of you. You throw on a coat over your dress. Grab your keys before making your way out the door. 

You’re already having second thoughts as you take the elevator up. Your hands clammy at your sides.

You hold your arms over your chest as you strut down the hall. Looking at the apartment numbers nailed to the outside of the doors.

You stop right in front of the door that says 108. You raise your hand to knock, but you pause. Mind racing with thoughts. Your brain is telling you to turn around and head back.

Before you can make that choice yourself, the door pulls open. Sunghoon's eyes widen in surprise as he sees you standing in front of him. 

A plain, casual minidress, paired with a long leather coat. 

He glances you up and down, eyes lingering on your exposed skin, the sheer elegance you exude even at his hour.

“You—you came?” He asks softly, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he studies you. Like he’s making sure you’re the right girl. 

“Make this quick before I change my mind.” You snap back. He doesn’t deserve sympathy. Not after the stunt he pulled at the last show. 

“Of course—Come in. This is my studio, I wanted to show you…” He says softly, stepping aside to let you inside the dimly lit room. 

You let your coat fall off your shoulders as you slip past him. Immediately, you’re hit with the faint scent of cinnamon and sage.

The large window immediately grabs your attention. The bustling city beneath you earns its name. Still dark—yet vibrant with life even at this hour.

You look around the studio as Sunghoon shuts the door behind you. Your eyes scan the large table by the window, the walls taped with countless designs of clothing and bags. Some are just sketches, others are fully fleshed out designs.

There are pastels and sketching pencils underneath the desk, Paints and other mediums scattered across the surface. And on the table, even more designs.

There's a small couch, the living area minimally decorated with a variety of greenery. Music softly playing on the television was nestled in the corner of the room. 

The last thing to catch your eye is a clothing rack packed full of dresses and designs. Your brows furrow with confusion. What designer keeps couture designs in their own apartment space?

“Sorry, this place is kind of a mess—” Sunghoon chuckles as he nervously bends down to pick up a rogue paintbrush and pencil off the floor.

“Why did you call me here?” You ask as you watch him messily try to stack up scattered designs and art supplies.

Your eyes linger on his arms as he rolls his white sleeves up to his elbows. Watching as he rakes his fingertips through his messy, unstyled hair.

“Because I need you to see what I see—” Sunghoon replies softly. He turns over his shoulder to see you stalking behind him, angry, exhausted.

You want to roll your eyes, how can he change his mind so fast, especially after the stunt he pulled cutting you last minute at the show?

He lets out a shaky breath like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. He drags his feet against the hard floor, stopping just a few inches in front of you.

He hesitates before gently offering his hand for you to take. Your gaze shifts from the palm of his hand to his eyes, no longer cold and harsh. There's a softness you didn’t notice before, maybe you were too caught up to notice it all along.

You let out a shaky breath, untying your arms from across your chest to offer him your hand.

He takes it, gently pulling you in closer. Your body brushes against his as he looks down at you.

“I know how I sounded on Saturday. I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have done that to you.” Sunghoon whispers, his voice cracking in the silence as he gently brushes your hair out of your face, his fingertips lingering on the side of your face.

“I’m sorry. I can only imagine how badly that hurt you—all to prove a point.” He chokes out, his voice unstable as his chest tightens under his words.

You feel your eyes water at his apology, the shame and hurt flooding back through your system as he brings up the cut.

“It’s okay, Sunghoon…” You choke out, tears threatening to spill at any moment.

Sunghoon’s expression grew pained as he heard the hurt in your voice. He pulls you closer into his arms, his fingertips gently wiping the stray tears from your cheeks.

“No, don’t say that. What I did was not okay.” He states, his voice steady as he gently wipes the silent tears from your face.

“Please, give me one chance, let me show you what I see in you…” Sunghoon whispers, his voice barely audible over the soft background music.

You smile softly, warmth pooling in your chest as he pulls you into a gentle hug. His cheek resting on the top of your head as he holds you through the last few sobs of tears.

He smiles down at you, his heart racing as you nod. He gently intertwined your fingertips with his as he guided you towards the large window, taking you to the clothing rack placed right next to it.

“These are my own designs. Not for Prada, not for my team, or Sunoo or anyone.” Sunghoon whispers.

“Anything catch your eye?” Sunghoon says as his hand slides to rest on your lower back, gently guiding you towards the small rack of designs.

You glance over the shimmering metallics and velvet jewels, a sultry red catching your eye as you glance over the designs.

It’s bold, sexy, fiery against the other colors on the rack. 

“This one…” You say softly as you pull the design from the rack, letting it rest in your arms. The fabric is a delicate shimmering red, catching all the dim light from the room. 

“That one’s dangerous…” Sunghoon whispers into your ear, his fingertips lingering on your waist like before. 

“Want to try it?” He suggests deeply, gesturing to a small folded divider tucked into the corner of his room. 

You try to bite back your excitement as you nod. Swiftly stepping behind the divider to change. 

You slip your coat off your shoulders and lay it across the top of the barrier, the cold air of the room hitting your bare skin as you slip into the dress. Pull it up over your hips and chest. 

The dress is breathtaking, tailored exactly to your body. The sleeves fall off the shoulders, and the necking plunges just deep enough to shape your figure. 

The fabric bathes at your waist, framing your curves before it pools at your bare feet. 

The back is corset-like, needing to be laced up tight against your spine. You pull at the strings, arms cramping as you try to do it yourself. 

“I think I need help with the laces.” You call out from behind the barrier. 

You hear Sunghoon step against the hard floor as he strides across the room, pushing the divider out of the way to find you holding your dress up. 

You swear you noticed a soft slush across his cheeks as he stood behind you. Fingertips gently grabbing the strings, pulling you tight into the dress.

You can hardly breathe, partly from the top design of the dress, partly because of the way Sunghoon's fingertips feel on your body. 

Once he’s got you laced in, he grabs you by the shoulders, spinning you around to face him. 

His eyes scan up in the design. Noticing the perfect flow and cut of the fabric, but this time you know. 

He’s not looking at the dress. 

He’s looking at you, every part of you. 

He bites his lip as he pulls you closer, guiding you to the open space of his apartment. 

“You look so stunning…I—I don’t have words,” Sunghoon whispers intimately as his hands slide up your waist, brushing across the glittering brick red of the dress.

Your heart races at his words, not because he’s talking about your dress or your body. 

Deep down, you know he’s talking about you. 

“These dresses…you made them for me?” You ask as his hands trace the perfect stitching of the garment. Somehow hugging every curve perfectly. 

“After that first fitting, I hardly even slept. You just inspired me so much, you made me forget how to breathe. You were all I could think about.” Sunghoon confesses as he pulls you into his body. The heat is undeniable as he softly lets his hands trace over your curves. 

“Because even though you were trembling, I saw something in you, you have no idea how long I’ve been designing, waiting for a woman like you.” Sunghoon completes, his breath hot against your skin as he leans in, breath fanning across your cheeks and lips. 

He’s close, so close. It feels like your heart is going to thump out of your chest. 

“You have so much potential to be great…when they aren’t pressuring you. The woman in front of me right now? That’s not the same woman behind that stage. That’s why I cut you.” Sunghoon confesses, his breath heavy and unchecked. 

“When you wear these designs, I want you to look, to feel like you. Not like the version of you the magazines want.” Sunghoon finishes, his lips charting dangerously close to yours. 

“You have no idea how badly I’m falling for you,” Sunghoon confesses with an intimate whisper. 

The words cut through all the noise. It’s all you can hear as it echoes back. The way his hands hold your body, his lips, so close.

You close the distance, gently capturing his lips with your own. 

Sunghoon's breath hitches as his hand cups the side of your face. Lips soft and gentle against your own. 

You pull away, briefly, just enough to whisper against his lips.

“Why’d you say that like you mean it?” You whisper, voice cracking softly with emotion. 

“Because I do mean it, every word…” Sunghoon completes before he crashes his lips back into yours, hands steadying you as he gently sucks your lips into his own.

Sunghoon pulls your body into his, the warmth exploding between you as your lips melt perfectly against his mouth. Your heart races, heat rushing to the back of your neck. 

Sunghoon pulls away, breathless, lips swollen and flushed from tasting your own. 

“I don’t want to ruin this, not again,” Sunghoon whispers. His voice was shaky and hoarse.

“Is this too soon? To ask…” Sunghoon chokes out, his voice heavy like everything he’s ever wanted as laid out on the line in front of him. 

Your heart warms, and you know exactly what he means. 

And you realize you want it just as much. 

A smile spreads across your lips that you can’t hide you nod softly in reply. 

“It’s not too soon, Sunghoon, I want you too.” You confess with a shy smile. 

Sunghoon lets out a shaky breath of disbelief. He leans in, kissing you again, this time hotter, heavier. 

He smiles against your lips as he tugs at the shimmering fabric of the dress. His hands gently guiding you to the small couch in the corner.

Faint cinnamon and sage still linger, as well as the soft music. Sunghoon sits on the couch, gently guiding you into his lap.

As soon as you’re situated, his lips as back on yours, breathless as he drags them beneath your jawline. 

You throw your head back, letting him explore and trace your lines like one of his most intricate sketches.

You let out a soft breath, not of frustration but of immense relief. Relief at how gentle his touch is, how reverent it is as he glides his lips across the skin of your neck. 

His hands gently hold your waist as he kisses you lower. Over the sharp lines of your collarbone to the top of your exposed breasts. 

“Every inch of you…God, I could get lost in this body.” Sunghoon moans as he gently drags his lips over the soft skin of your chest, right above the hem of your dress.

Your breath catches as his hands slide to your back, shamelessly pulling at the ties to loosen your dress. 

The deep red slides down your body as it loosens, revealing more of your skin to his gaze. 

Sunghoon pulls you in, bringing his face to your chest as he favors the sweet scent of you. His lips dragging across the fullness of your breasts. 

“You have no idea how many times I sketched this neckline, imagining you sitting in it.” Sunghoon coaxes, his lips dragging from the underside of your breast to your nipple.

 He takes the sensitive bud in his mouth, warm and wet, caressing it with his tongue. 

Your hips tremble as the sensations rush through you. You’re breath is labored as he drags his lips under your chest, molding your warm flesh in his mouth. 

You arch into him. Moaning softly as the warmth spreads from your core. Sunghoon smirks against your skin, his lips hot and wet as they pull away.

He lets out a deep groan as he drags his lips across the other side, wet and messy, his hands pulling you down further into his lap.

You can feel how much he's straining against the zipper of his dress pants already. You grind down on his lap, just enough to catch yourself on his hardness, letting the pleasure build.

Sunghoon pulls his swollen lips away completely breathless, soft marks of blue and purple left on the fullness of your breasts in his wake.

You glance down, hands still gently resting on his shoulders as you take in the bruises left by his mouth. You feel yourself getting hotter at the sight of Sunghoon marking you as his.

Sunghoon's brows furrow as he notices you staring, your dress still loosely falling off your body, fabric crooked and pooling anywhere it can.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked—” Sunghoon whispers as his fingertips graze across the hickeys left on your skin. The blues, mixing with hues of green and purple as they darken.

Your breath catches at his words, you lean in, gently kissing the tension away as your mouth warmly melts into his.

“I love it… It's nothing the makeup team can't cover up.” You say with a cheeky smile.

Sunghoon chuckles against your lips as he leans in to taste more of you, his large hands sliding across the bare skin of your arms before resting on your thighs.

You straddle him in the dress, core loosely grinding against his clothed cock as hands trace you, memorizing every freckle and line.

“Every inch of you is just perfection. I want you to see that.” Sunghoon mumbles as he drags his lips down your throat.

You gasp, hands trembling as you hold onto him for support, sweat already forming a thin layer across your skin. The red dress feels hot, too hot, as you pant on top of him.

“I want to hear you, you’re not just my muse right now. I want this to be about us, no brand deals or labels. Just me and you.” Sunghoon mumbles into the skin of your neck. His hands gently slipping into the fallen straps of your dress, asking for permission before gently pulling it down.

You whimper as you feel his lips on your sensitive skin. It bruises more easily than you remember. Sunghoon pulls away, placing a chaste kiss to the darkening spot before looking back into your eyes. 

You don’t even know when the tears started to fall. Your chest pounds, maybe from embarrassment, you can’t truly tell. 

Sunghoon silently wipes your tears. This time, he doesn’t have flashy words or lavish compliments. 

And that’s exactly what you need to realize—this thing is real. 

And for the first time in a long time, you’re actually being seen.

Not through a camera lens, not through a magazine. 

Just you and a man who’s willing to change and give you everything he has because it’s true he’s been waiting. 

“Thank you…Sunghoon—“You choke out a quiet sob. Your hands are shaking as you try to wipe the tears. 

“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Sunghoon mumbles as he gently wipes your tears with his sleeve. A soft smile tugged at his lips even after everything. His heart still swells for you. 

“I want you to undress me…” You whisper, your voice finally stabilizing as you ground it. This time there’s no more trembling, no more hiding. 

Sunghoon's expression melts at your words as you finally take control, finally own the version of you he knew was buried down inside. 

He looks up at you, grinning, his hands gently raking through your hair with affection. 

“There she is…” Sunghoon whispers before pulling you back down into another messy kiss. 

You match his enthusiasm, letting your tongue melt against his as he tears moans from your throat, moans you never imagined he would hear.

He slides his hands down your arms, pulling the straps of the dress down with them as more of your skin catches in the dim light. 

His lips stay melted on yours as his chest rises and falls with anticipation’s his fingers trembling for the first time as he forcefully removes the rest of the laces from your back. 

The dress immediately falls, you shuffle awkwardly to slip out of it, letting the dark crimson pool long forgotten on the ground. 

“Come here..” Sunghoon mumbles as he lies back down on the couch, pulling you back on top of him. You let yourself laugh softly as he pulls you back into his warmth. 

Sunghoon smiles into another kiss, your laughter making his heart race as his hands roam across your body in exploration. 

“I want you here if that’s okay?” Sunghoon pulls away to whisper, his hands gently rubbing your hips, pulling you up his torso to lie across his chest. 

You immediately feel hot as you catch on, the cool fabric of his shirt contrasting with the heat of your skin and core. 

“I want you to ride my face…” he confesses, his voice heavy, shaking as his eyes stay locked on you and only you. 

“You sure?” you question, biting back a smirk as you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“More than…” Sunghoon replies as his hands slide to your thighs, helping to guide you into position. 

Your thighs burn as they dig into the cushions of the couch, holding yourself up as you start to drip over his face. 

You let out a shaky breath as you sink down, his warm, hot mouth enveloping you, sending a shock of heat throughout your body. 

You let out a deep moan, unfiltered, unashamed, as his tongue drags through your folds. You grip the soft leather of the couch, trying to keep yourself from putting too much pressure on his face.

Sunghoon lets his eyes flutter shut as he memorizes you with his mouth. His tongue takes its time to glide through every fold, hitting every nerve to make you shiver. 

He moans deep with satisfaction as he feasts on you. Your essence dripping down his lips and chin as his nose buries further into your heat. 

He doesn’t come up for air; he doesn’t speak. He just devours you, getting off at your newfound sounds of pleasure. 

His tongue slides through your folds to gently circle your clit. You whimper, hips buckling against his face as his tongue slides down to your hole, gently fucking into you with reverence.

It feels good, too good. You start to grind your hips down on his tongue, chasing that same spark of pleasure.

You let go of the couch, your hands gently fisting handfuls of his dark hair as you let yourself shamelessly drop fully onto his face.

You let out a sharp exhale of relief, your thighs burning from the intensity as you slowly roll your hips against him, wetness dripping onto his lips, down his chin and neck.

Sunghoon groans into your pussy, his tongue picking up intensity as he feels you drop onto his face. His breath comes in short pants as he struggles to lap up all your dripping arousal.

“Fuck Sunghoon—” You moan, finding your voice as his tongue circles your clit again, giving the sensitive nub extra attention.

Sunghoon chuckles into your heat as you grind against him, letting his tongue circle your wet, glistening hole as his nose rubs against your clit.

Your grip on his hair tightens as you grind down on his face, rougher, harder. Sunghoon's hands slide to your ass, fingertips digging into the skin as he helps you fuck yourself on his tounge and nose.

You feel a knot pulling at your lower stomach, your pussy aching, clenching around his tongue as he struggles to lap up the dripping mess you're shamelessly making.

Sunghoon moans deeper, rougher as his hands help you ride his face harder and harder. He feels you clenching around his tongue, signaling you're close.

You’re hair starts to stick to the back of your neck, thighs still straining as you chase release. Your legs tremble next to his ears, leather from the couch sticking to your skin as you slide yourself up and down.

“Shit—Sunghoon gonna come, can I?” You ask, trebling on top of him, gripping him tight as your orgasm teeters on the edge.

“Fucking soak me—” He groans into your pussy, the sound barely audible as he pulls you down into him more.

You rub your clit against his nose one time, then two—it breaks you. You cry out his name, shamelessly letting every curse and moan spill from the back of your throat. Your hands pulling at his dark hair as you fuck yourself through your orgasm.

Sunghoon lets out a sigh of relief, his tongue spreading your slick all through your folds as you soak his lips and chin, arousal dripping down his neck, pooling on the leather of the couch.

“Fucking perfect—God.” Sunghoon moans as his hands help to guide you off his face to straddle his torso again.

His lips and chin are still glistening with your come, the collar of his shirt dampened from your mess. 

You feel that tinge in your stomach again as you look at him. So perfect, so wrecked. Cheeks flushed, slips swollen and glistening, hair tossled from your grip. 

“Mr. Park. If your goal was to make me feel confident, well—you’ve done a good job.” You say, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you pick up the red dress from the ground. 

A shaky breath falls from your lips as you clean off his face with the hem. Your come catching on the fabric as you wipe Sunghoon's lips, chin and neck clean. 

 You toss the dress aside, letting your hips straddle his own as your hands get to work on his dress shirt. 

You remove one button at a time, his pale skin catching off the light one inch at a time. 

Sunghoon lies back, his hands resting on your hips, a smug grin on his face as he lets you take control

The soft fabric of his shirt is cool against your skin as you push it over his shoulders. Letting his bare back stick to the leather of the couch. 

A warmth hits your skin as his hands find their way back to your waist, on instinct Sunghoon tries to flip you over. 

“No..” you mumble. Your hands grabbing his wrists, your knee pushing his chest back down toward the couch. 

Sunghoon's eyes widen as you sharply pin his wrists above his head. This is new, this is exiting. Never in his life has he been with a woman like this. 

And that just makes him fall for you even more. 

“No touching, no guiding. Please Sunghoon—“ you whisper, voice cracking loud in the near silence. 

“Let me lead this.” You whisper, leaning down to capture his lips with your own, your grip tightening around his wrists. 

Sunghoon gasps into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut as his mouth moves against yours.

One of your hands slips between your bodies, the other holding his wrists tight above his head. You fumble with the buckle of his belt, fingers brushing against his hard cock as you slide the zipper down. 

Sunghoon lifts his hips, letting you pull the fabric down just as much as you need. 

You straddle him, letting your hand guide his thick, aching cock towards your slick entrance.

“I want to see you wrecked a little more—“ you say as you bite back a smile. Your wetness teasing the sensitive tip of his cock. 

Sunghoon nods. 

And you don’t waste another second before you let your hips drop. 

The stretch is satisfying, and you let out a sharp moan as his thick cock drags against the ridges of your warm walls. 

Sunghoon moans your name, sharp and broken as he feels your tight channel enveloping him in his entirety. His head falls back, chest heaving as he struggles for breath. 

His wrists twitch under your grip, like he wants to reach out, like he’s aching to touch you. 

But you’re determined to draw this out.

Your thighs clench as you pull yourself up, only to sink back down with that same delicious sensation. 

“Holy…I’ve never—“Sunghoon chokes out, his wrists still trembling beneath your harsh grip. 

You lean down, letting your lips find his in another messy, wet kiss. You pull away, gasping as you let your hips rock against his own. His cock is dragging across all the spots that make you shiver. 

“Yeah? Feels good, doesn’t it?” You reply, placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

Sunghoon nods, a weak chuckle falls from his lips, his chest still aching at the fill. 

“You feel like a perfect fucking fit—“ Sunghoon gasps as he crashes his mouth back into yours. Greedy, hot, and claiming. 

You match his enthusiasm, letting your tongue tangle with his between breathless moans. Your hips are still slamming down on his cock. 

You release your grip, pulling Sunghoon up with you. His back leaves the couch as his hands finally trace your sides and waist. His hands cupping your breasts, aching to savor every inch of skin they can. 

You ride him faster, panting against his mouth as you take charge of the rhythm. His hips thrust up in time with yours. The friction maddening as you slip in and out with ease. 

Sunghoon's head falls to your shoulder, his hands aimlessly roaming your hot skin. His jaw locked tight, and his brows furrowed as he struggles to hold back. 

You catch on, keeping that same fast, wet pace. He lazily thrusts up into you as you clench around him. 

You feel him twitching inside, and you know he’s close. 

“You’re so fucking perfect like this, so wrecked, made for a body like mine.” You coax. The words spilling from your tongue with no filter. It surprises even yourself; you didn’t know you had this side in you until Sunghoon brought it out. 

“Yeah..fuck yeah you were.” Sunghoon pants as his lips drag softly against your shoulder. 

You feel your core growing tight. The familiar tingling and warmth from earlier starts to take over. Your ankles feel numb, your thighs are burning and aching.

You know you’re close. 

Your sweat mixes with his as you lie him back, forehead resting on his, as you ride him faster and harder. Dragging out your own orgasm. 

“Yes…Sunghoon God—“You pant into his mouth as you feel the warmth rushing through your body, a wave of wetness flowing suit as you shamelessly come all over his cock. 

A shaky laugh falls from your lips as you grind yourself through the waves. Your body clenches around his, pulling him over the edge with you. 

Sunghoon moans deep as he comes, his cock twitching inside your heat as he spills into your wet walls. His hips jerking as his eyes roll back, his come spilling into your open channel.

Your name falls from his lips as he comes down from his high. His hips still jerking as you milk him for every drop. 

The moment between you is quietly charged. The sound of your panting fills the air. The smell of sex mingling with cinnamon and sage. 

You glance down at Sunghoon, panting, sweaty, and flushed.

He looks completely wrecked. 

And you couldn’t be happier that it was because of you. 

You pull yourself off of him, trying to keep the mess to a minimum. Sunghoon gently cups your face, his lips finding yours again. 

“I’d love for you to stay…” Sunghoon mumbles breathlessly against your lips. His eyes flicking up to glance into yours. 

This time, he glances at you like you’re more than just his muse. 

୨୧

Today is the big day, Your chance at finally getting redemption. 

You can’t hide your smile as the makeup artist bakes your face for the stage. Your hair perfectly styled to compliment your natural beauty. 

You feel a warmth in your chest, not entirely from the simmering stage lights. 

“May I?” You hear a familiar voice call out from behind the curtain. 

Sunoo steps through the curtain. Clipboard still rested at his side. His face still bearing same sweet smile and kind eyes as before. 

“You look like an angel in that dress—“ Sunoo compliments truthfully. 

This time? You smile back, the compliment warming your heart. This time there’s no tug for rebuttal, no pointing out the obvious puffiness under your eyes, or the shape of your hips. 

The stylists finish their work, leaving you camera-ready to walk. The same white dress from before is now perfectly tailored to your measurements, with your decolletage and spine as the highlights of the cuts. 

“Thank you Sunoo.” You reply kindly. Sunoo notices his smile beaming brighter. He offers you his hand with a soft laugh. The chatter of the backstage chaos swiftly fades into the background. 

Sunoo playfully spins you around, the dress fluttering as it catches in the air. You can’t help but exhale as he holds your soft hand with his. 

You feel ready, you know it. And Sunghoon knows it too. 

You pull away to glance at yourself in the mirror, smoothing out the small wrinkles around your waistline. Eyes lingering on the faded marks covered up professionally by your makeup team. 

Your heart beats faster as the memories flash, Sunghoon's warm mouth on your skin and cleavage. Marking you as his.

You feel a flush creeping up your neck. Sunoo raises an eyebrow. 

His thought process is interrupted when Sunghoon himself steps back into the room. A large garment bag in his arms. 

“Boss, what are you—“ Sunoo questions softly. 

Sunghoon's breath catches as he watches you twirl in front of the mirror. The fabric moves like a waterfall down your curves, the white bringing out the vivid undertones of your skin. 

“I want you to wear this—“ Sunghoon says, his voice soft, barely above a whisper. 

Your heart races as you turn around. Eyes are raking up and down his professionally dressed figure. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair perfectly styled out of his dark eyes. 

“And I want you to close the show.” 

Your lungs widen, and you can hardly breathe. 

Close the show? Sunghoon wants you to close his show. 

A flicker of dread and fear flickers in your expression, but it’s quickly changed out with something else. 

“You want me to close?” You ask softly, shaking your head to make sure you heard him right. 

Sunghoon smiles warmly, taking another step towards you as he peels the garment bag away from the dress. 

You recognize that familiar crimson red. The same from that night. 

The night he helped you see the version of yourself that has been hidden all along. You swear you hear Sunoo gasp in the background as the red catches the backstage light. 

His own design, not made for cameras or clients. 

The dress he made was only for you. 

Sunoo's eyes widen as you pull Sunghoon by the collar. Your lips shamelessly crashing into his. 

“I want you to close, in this…” Sunghoon mumbles into your mouth before he pulls away, cheeks flushed from the nearly public display of affection. 

“I will.” You say confidently. Tilting your head to look into his dark eyes. 

Sunghoon pulls you in for another chaste kiss before quickly dipping out the other side of the curtain, leaving Sunoo appalled.

“Did I miss something?!” Sunoo exclaims as he crosses the room to help you unlace the white dress in preparation for the red. 

“Yeah, I guess you did miss a chapter—“ you say playfully with a soft chuckle. 

“Listen, I knew something was different, but—wait. You’re not hooking up with him, are you?!” Sunoo gasps, like he just received the juiciest gossip of his life. 

“That’s…confidential," You reply, but you can’t hide the truth behind your expression. 

“Knew it,” Sunoo replies as he pulls the last of the back laces free. 

You change into the same red dress as before. It gently hugs your hips, frames your shoulders, and pools at your heels. 

It truly was made just for you. A perfect fit. 

You wince as you step onto the runway. Cameras flashing, faces hidden behind phones. 

You suck in a deep breath, exhaling as you put one foot in front of the other. Taking up space as you own the runway. 

Once you reach the edge of the stage, you’re hit with camera flash after camera flash. Your vision goes white as you get lost in the moment. Lost in the feeling of finally being seen. 

Your confidence follows you as you turn back. Smiling and waving at the front row guests without a care in the world. 

Then the lights go out, and applause erupts. 

For Sunghoon, and for you. 

You’re panting as you stand in the wings of the runway. Eyes darting through the crowd in search of Sunoo. 

But your attention shifts as you feel Sunghoon’s hand against your wrist. 

He pulls you from the crowd, ignoring all the chants and calls for photos and interviews. 

He pulls you into your dressing room. And without another word his mouth is on yours. 

You exhale as your hands slide up his chest to his face. Gently pulling him in for more as your lipstick smudges all over his face and yours. 

You pull away, gasping. Forehead resting against his as the sounds of the press grow louder and louder outside the door. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Sunghoon whispers.

You kiss him again. His lips too sweet to resist, you chuckle against his lips as the adrenaline fades. 

And you realize you wouldn’t want to be in anyone else’s arms. 

“Me too…I’m proud of me too.” You break apart to reply. 

You never thought you were worthy of finding your perfect fit. 

But you found it. In Sunghoon—

And in yourself.

© brokenengene

kate's note: I hope you guys enjoyed this story! It was challenging to write, but I hope it's satisfying for you all. I just want to say thank you guys for all the support I've received, im so so grateful for all of it. And like always, take care.

written with love,

xoxo kate<3

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[hoonharem]

BACKROOM DIPLOMACY ⠀─── PSH

( ꒰ঌ⸝⸝) ⠀─── Folding silk scarves, styling customers, and dealing with the occasional entitled mother—just another day working in luxury retail.

But when Sunghoon gets dragged into his mother’s bussiness, he doesn’t expect to meet you—a sharp-tongued store assistant who’s all too good at pretending not to care.

What starts with a damaged bag ends with a secret affair neither of you saw coming.

wc ꒱ 6.3k — legislative assistant! sunghoon ⨯ store assistant!fem. reader

warnings! 18+ smut, angst, pwp ✸﹕ oral(fem), petnames, affairs & cheating, exhibitionism, arranged marriages — TOTALLY INACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF PSH’ MOTHER

an ·˚ ༘ first piece for this account! reader realises a bit ate shes the side piece…

The perfume section always smells like bitterness and exhaustion, laced with overpriced musk.

To the rich, though, it’s intoxicating — the scent of spending for the sake of it.

Iris and sandalwood might be comforting in a home. But here? Under glass lights and superficial smiles, they settle like dread beneath your skin.

And that dread only festers the longer you look at the woman in front of you.

Her previously smooth, glassy skin now creases around a permanent snarl. Her dark bob is razor-straight and shoulder-skimming, not a strand out of place. A Celine Triomphe necklace gleams against her sternum, rising and falling with every syllable she spits.

“This is truly unacceptable. Never in my life would I have expected such terrible service.”

“Ma’am, as I said, I’m sorry—”

“Sorry does not cut it.”

You force your brow to unfurrow, fighting to keep your expression neutral. Six years in luxury retail, and somehow the worst part of the job is still pretending someone like this is always right.

“Ma’am, the lady who helped you last week is a trainee. It was an honest mistake — she gave you the display model by accident. Unfortunately, we’re out of stock on that item.”

“What am I supposed to do with this mess?” Her voice rises. “The lacquer on the straps is melted.”

“Yes, ma’am. I understand. We can send it to France for repair, but—”

“I don’t have a week!”

You flinch. The glass display table between you offers little defense.

She’s tall. Elegant in a cold, precise way — five foot ten, in pointed kitten heels that echo like threats against the marble. A Mini Lady Dior dangles from her manicured fingers as if warning you.

You had just sold the last Oura bag — THE 8TH HOUSE’s viral release — ten minutes before she arrived. You left that part out. Mistake.

“I bought this bag to wear for a special dinner in 4 days,” she snaps. “As a paying customer, I expect a partial refund — and a replacement. Now go check the back.”

“Ma’am, as I said—”

“I don’t like your attitude.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Do you know who my son is?”

And just like that, you’re done for.

No, you don’t know who her son is — but from the way she’s dripping in gold, and you’re dripping in sweat, you know it’s about to get worse.

“May I take a name?”

She tongues her cheek. “It should be on file.”

Now playing Guess Who, you reach for the store tablet, pretending to type. She watches you like a hawk with dangly earrings.

“You know what? I’ll call him myself.”

“Ma’am, that’s not necessa—”

Three rings. A pause. Then:

“Darling, hi honey. I’m sending you my location.”

A low murmur vibrates through the speaker.

“Don’t be like that — I need help. Terrible service! I think I’m being scammed. Should’ve just bought the Kelly instead.”

Another pause, followed by a curt response. Then:

“Thank you, sweetheart. Please come as soon as—”

The call ends. She turns back toward you, expression smug.

“My son works in the government. He’ll deal with this. He has power. He can get you fired.”

You barely open your mouth before she continues.

“Surely there’s someone with a bit more authority who could’ve handled this. I was told this boutique had standards.” She judges, eyeing the store’s shelves of purses, mannequins posed with elegance.

“My Son’s fiancée recommended this place. She’s a proper woman, well-raised. Polite.”

The woman only continues with her remarks for what seems like hours, leaving you no choice but to be verbally beaten. You’re one passive-aggressive breath away from quitting on the spot—

—but then the door chime ring; soft, high pitched, delicate.

And the room goes still.

Not the kind you get when a customer’s thinking. The kind that spreads in the air when something powerful walks in.

You keep your head down, still reeling from the mother’s constant barrage — until the shift in the room makes it impossible not to look up.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to.

His steps are smooth and deliberate. The tap of leather dress shoes against marble echoes like a countdown.

And then you see him.

Tailored charcoal blazer, cinched just right at the waist. Crisp white dress shirt underneath, with sleeves that don’t wrinkle. Broad shoulders. A jaw sharp enough to cut through pleasantries.

And a face. God, the face.

Smooth ivory skin, cool-toned and clear. A beauty mark dusted beneath his right eye. Straight, dark brows. Deep eyes that look at you — like he’s trying to memorize you on sight.

You swallow. Too loudly.

“Sunghoon, my dear,” his mother says, voice suddenly sweet. “Listen carefully—”

“Please step aside, mother.”

He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.

He walks past her, long strides cutting straight across the store toward you. You’re already standing, but somehow you still feel like you need to rise to meet him.

“Sir,” you manage, stiff and formal. “I’m deeply sorry.”

“I was pulled out of a meeting with a constituent.” His voice is calm, smooth, but carries weight. “What seems to be the issue?”

“Your mother was given a damaged item by a new trainee. I offered a full repair or a refund, but both options will take a week or more.”

A long breath leaves him. Not annoyed — more resigned.

Then, he reaches into his inner pocket.

And pulls out a sleek black card. He lays it on the glass counter between you, perfectly centered.

“Take my card. Source the bag from anywhere. Overnight it if you can. Charge whatever you need, just make sure it arrives before her event.”

You blink, words tangled on your tongue.

“Sir, I’m not sure we can guarantee delivery that fast—”

“That’s fine,” he cuts in gently. “Do your best. That would be greatly appreciated.”

You feel your chest jump.

Polite. Hot. Rich. You’re in actual danger.

You’ve spent your whole shift aligning belts and folding scarves, and now you’re talking to someone who looks like he belongs on a magazine cover and speaks like he was born in diplomacy.

Your brain short-circuits.

“Mother,” he says, turning without looking at you. “I’ll handle the rest. I’ll bring the new bag to your house once it arrives.”

She nods once, satisfied. The mask of arrogance slips right back into place.

“I’m glad we could come to an understanding. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Then to you, her voice sharper again:

“Next time, let’s make sure it’s handled correctly the first time.”

She spins on her heel and glides toward the exit, her skirt swaying dramatically with each step.

You watch her go. And then — finally — exhale.

Your shoulders slump in relief. The worst is over. You’re alone now, finally.

Until:

“Not going to be a next time for her until she fixes that bob.”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

Silence.

Then a soft chuckle.

“What’s the issue with her haircut?”

You freeze.

He heard you. He heard you.

Your eyes shoot up, wide and panicked.

He’s still there, tilted slightly to the side, one eyebrow raised in mild amusement.

“You look like a gaping fish.”

“Sir—”

“You’re quite brave for that comment.” He pauses. His gaze sweeps the store like he’s trying to understand it, deep in thought. “Though I can’t imagine what she said to you. She becomes cruel, sometimes. For that, I apologize.”

His tone is casual, but there’s something under it. Weight. Restraint. The air around him feels… taut. Like he’s holding back.

You straighten up without thinking.

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“You’ve handled her better than most.”

And then — a flicker of a smile. Subtle, but it knocks the breath out of your lungs all over again.

He doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, he nods once, a quiet conclusion to the chaos.

Turning, the soft click of his shoes echo again, that same calm intensity he arrived with, except now with the tension lifted and resolving.

He reaches the glass doors, pushing them open.

And pauses. Just long enough for you to catch it.

“Thank you.” He says, voice low — not out of shynes, control. “I know you didn’t have to handle it the way you did.”

You blink, surprised. The store feels too quiet again.

The door swings shut behind him with a soft chime.

Just like that, he’s gone. However, it feels like he left something behind.

You exhale, finally, letting your shoulders drop.

Your fingers reach up, absently smoothing your shirt collar — like you could erase the way he looked at you. The way his gaze didn’t linger, but settled.

‘What the hell was that?’ you mutter under your breath.

The display mannequins don’t answer.

You’re not sure you want them to.

You found a bag that same night.

Laptop open, notebook at your side with scribbled codes and international numbers, you combed through headquarters one by one until you finally located it — Bangkok. Last in stock.

The next morning, you placed the order through the boutique’s internal system. It wasn’t cheap — express international shipping never is — but Sunghoon’s black card handled it.

A day later, you sent a short confirmation text to the number linked to the card.

The bag is ready.

And the day after, the same familiar chime rang out,

However it wasn’t a rampage that walked in, instead, refinement.

A stark black tux.

Hair parted clean down the centre, styled just enough to look effortless. A few loose strands fell forward, deliberate in their messiness.

He looked like he stepped out of a campaign shoot.

Straight toward the glass counter. The same one where he’d first met you.

“Good afternoon.” his voice is the same, low, even.

You hate that it still sounded like silk. Hated it more that you remembered it exactly. Dreamed of it, even.

‘I’m here to pick up the replacement bag for my mother.’

‘Of course sir — right this way.’

You lead him past the counter to a teak table — smooth, low, with a warm ivory lamp and curated bottles of cologne lining its edge.

He follows in silence.

His gaze trails over you: the soft trail of your perfume, the gleam of your earrings, the clean movement of your skirt. His eyes linger too long on the way the fabric hugs your hips.

Your voice pulls him back.

‘One moment, Sir. I’ll go get the package.’

You disappear to a back door, heels softly clicking. Only now, you emerge with an ashen grey box with the store’s logo pressed into the middle, gently settling it onto the table.

The box feeling weightier than usual, and you lift the lid, unveiling the pristine bag.

“Here it is,” you say, calm and measured. “I secured the last one from Bangkok. Express shipping has been charged to your card.”

You slide the matte black metal card back across the table toward him.

‘If all is correct, I’ll have this packaged and ready for you, Sir.’

‘Delightful.’

Cutting black silk ribbon and wrapping the box corners, your line of sight is diverted to a lighter grey shopping bag sliding onto the table.

Paying no mind towards it, you continue your task only pausing when Sunghoon stares at you expectedly.

‘Sir?’

‘This is for you.’

You blink. ‘For me?’

‘An apology for the other day.’

You glance into the bag, half-expecting some overpriced chocolate.

Instead — a candle. Heavy glass. Minimal label. Tom Ford.

The label reads: ‘Bitter Peach’

Upon reading, you snort. ‘Subtle.’

Sunghoon tilts his head, replying ‘It felt… appropriate.’ His face unchanging, but his eyes glint — barely.

Resuming your task, you gently place the box into a matching gift bag, tie the ribbon seal, and face the bag logo towards Sunghoon. Suddenly aware of his staring, you look back.

‘So’ you murmur, ‘the government pays you to harass boutique staff and deliver passive - aggressive gifts?’

A blink.

‘I’m not usually this involved in retail diplomacy.’

‘Could’ve fooled me.’

His lips twitch. Just slightly.

Your eyes darted across him again, small details further push your daydreams for later tonight. He doesn’t fidget, thinned lips plush and moistened — which was irritating in itself.

After a beat, you speak again.

‘You didn’t have to.’

‘No.’ He replies softly, but final, ‘I wanted to.’

‘Thank you.’

He nods slightly, taking the bag to leave, only turning before stepping away too far, glancing back.

‘You’re not like the people I usually deal with.’

‘Good or bad?’

‘Still deciding.’

And he takes his leave, leaving you only with the faint scent of his cologne, and a candle on the table.

He started coming in more often after that.

Always with a reason. A question about leather treatment, a last-minute gift, coming in to ask what tie colour would go well with a new suit — exchanges he easily could’ve sent someone else to do. He never said anything too forward, but the way he looked at you… it was far from businesslike.

You got used to the smell of white musk and clean linen, and the way your breath would hitch just a little when it was him.

Eventually, he asked. Quietly. Smoothly. The way Sunghoon always speaks when he wants something.

“Dinner — unless you’ve got a policy against those who make them.”

You said yes.

One date turned into two. Then three.

And each time, he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You made him smile. He kept you steady.

Suddenly your apartment was filled with flower bouquets every other day; roses, dahlias, peonies.

Your kitchen island went from being empty to being covered in shopping bags full of jewellery, perfumes and shoes.

It felt like a permanent state of bliss, one that created a hazy filter every time you were together — sweet and serene.

Until today.

The work day was busy, customers coming for gifts, new season releases and more. You couldn’t recall how many times you’ve given lipstick samples today, but the crowd slowly lessened as the day passed.

Now, the store was quiet — late afternoon light glinting off the perfume bottles. Suddenly, the door opened again, the small bell ringing out.

You looked up — and it was him.

But he wasn’t alone.

A woman walked beside him. Beautiful in that way that doesn’t even try. Everything she wore was sleek, tasteful. Cream-like skin caught in soft daylight, framed by brown silk-smooth hair that fell in deliberate, brushed lines. Her eyes, wide and clear, and her cheeks were delicately blushed.

And she was a regular customer, one who's racked up plenty of store credit.

Your spine stiffened as they approached. You could barely look at him — you couldn’t

Sunghoon stood behind her as she smiled, soft and sweet. She greeted you as you did numerous times in the past when you served her. But now as you smile back, your lips crack and your chest feels bitter.

You wanted to hate her. Couldn’t. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She didn’t even know.

“Hello again. I was wondering if you could help me and my fiancée find a few pieces?”

Fiancée.

A surge of vivid memories crashed over you, taking you back to that memorable first encounter with his mother.

My son. His fiancée.

You nodded. “Of course. Right this way.”

You led her to the lounge, walked her through options, gave polite suggestions from necklaces to sunglasses, all while your chest burned with something between anger and humiliation.

He watched you. The whole time.

And you never met his eyes once.

Eventually, she excused herself to the changing room, a few options draped over her arm. You moved to restock a few things — anything to keep your hands busy, anything to avoid him.

You didn’t notice him approach until you felt his presence at your side.

“Angel.’

You didn’t answer. Just kept folding a scarf that was already perfect.

“Look at me.”

You didn’t.

Sunghoon reached out — a hand barely brushing your wrist. “Y/N.”

You turned, sharply.

“What?” you seethed. “You want styling advice for her too?”

His jaw tensed. “It’s not like that.”

You stepped back half a pace. “No? What is it like, then? Because from where I’m standing, I’m the mistress that you picked up when you got tired playing house.’

“That’s not fair.”

“You’re not playing fair,” you muttered. “Bringing her here. Where you knew I’d be.”

He didn’t reply. Just stared at you like he was trying to find the right words — and failing.

But then he stepped closer.

Too close.

The air thickened. His eyes dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“You didn’t look at me once,” he said quietly.

You scoffed, “Was I supposed to?”

“No — but I wanted you to.’

You opened your mouth to say something — anything.

But he didn’t wait.

His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you in with the same calm intensity he always carried — and he kissed you.

No hesitation.

No apology.

Just tension finally, finally breaking.

You kissed him back — angry, confused, burning.

Soft lips melded together, holding and wanting to stay.

When you finally pulled away, the space between you sparked like static.

“She’s trying on dresses,” you whispered.

His voice was low. “You think I care?”

You stared at him, breath trembling, heart louder than your thoughts.

And for a second, it felt like in the whole store, it was just you two again.

You took a full step back, pulse still hammering behind your ribs.

His gaze followed you, lips parted like he still hadn’t come down from the kiss.

You turned away, suddenly needing space. Distance. Breath.

And then — the sound of a velvet curtain pulling back.

“Sunghoon?”

You froze.

She stood in the changing room doorway, one arm hugging a dress to her figure. A neutral beige silk clung to her like it had been tailored hours ago. Her hair was tucked behind one ear, eyes searching the boutique calmly.

“I think I found one I like.”

Sunghoon didn’t move for a beat.

He then stepped toward her with practiced ease, voice sliding back into something smooth. Controlled.

“Let’s see.”

She turned toward the mirror, shifting her weight in the heels. “It’s hard to tell if it’s too plain… what do you think?”

You forced a smile. “It’s elegant. Minimal. It’ll layer well with accessories.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Sunghoon said. His tone was light, effortless. Like nothing had happened.

But when his eyes flicked to you — just for a second — they weren’t weak at all.

You dropped your gaze immediately, heat crawling up your neck.

She moved back toward the fitting room, mumbling something about trying another size.

And as soon as she disappeared behind the curtain, Sunghoon turned toward you again.

But this time, you stepped away before he could speak.

“I’ll prepare a few alternatives,” you said, almost cold.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t speak.

Just stood there, silent in his perfect suit, in a store full of mirrors and unsaid things.

it was a last minute reschedule.

A senior stylist had called in sick. With half the team scrambling to rearrange client slots, your manager kindly booked you for the 4PM appointment.

You didn’t think twice. Not until you saw the name on the tablet.

Park Sunghoon.

Too late to swap shifts. Too late to call out.

The boutique was silent as you walked out the elevator doors, slowly approaching the showroom with the feeling of impending doom.

The muted hum of air vents and the soft scent of cedar wood from the new display candles filled the silence.

You heard his footsteps before you saw him.

Dark slacks. Crisp shirt. No tie this time.

Still immaculate. Just as infuriating.

He stepped into the showroom like he belonged there, meeting your eyes upon the sound of your heels.

“Miss,” he greeted, voice smooth as ever.

You didn’t smile. “Mr. Park.”

His eyes flicked over you. Not intrusive — but not neutral either.

“I wasn’t expecting you.” he said quietly.

“Your stylist called in sick.” you replied sharply, leaving no room for empty small talk.

You turned towards the table without answering. ‘I’ll walk you through the selections as your assistant requested. If you have any preferences before that, let me know.’

Silence behind you. Until,

“So we’re doing it like this?”

You looked up from the layout. “Doing what, sir?”

He blinked at the formality, his jaw clenching under the pressure of his bite.

“You haven’t returned any of my calls.”

“I’ve been working.”

“For two weeks?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you gestured to the curated items organised on the table. “These were brought in from the Milan line — cashmere. Limited run.”

He stepped forward, stopping just across from you. The air felt thinner between you. He didn’t look at the clothes.

“Why are you pretending none of it happened?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Because it shouldn’t have.”

His expression shifted — barely. A flicker of frustration, or something heavier.

“Right.” he muttered. ‘Back to be being professional”

“I’m doing my job.”

“We kissed.”

Your breath caught, just a little.

“And then you brought your fiancé here. Remember?”

His voice dropped. “I didn’t know she was coming.”

“She tried on champagne silk and asked if it looked plain — you said nothing.”

“I didn’t plan that. I didn’t plan any of this.”

“But you let it happen.”

That silence again. Sharp and close and intimate.

Then, the softest he’s ever spoken. “You disappeared.”

“I had to.” you sighed deeply, your chest aching, “Sunghoon, this isn’t professional.”

His fingers grazed the edge of the table. “I didn’t want you to.”

You looked away, pulse climbing. “You still have a ring in your finger.”

“It’s arranged.”

That made your gaze snap back.

‘The engagement,’ he says. Voice flat, like the words taste sour. ‘It’s a contract. A bussiness move.’

‘And that's supposed to make what you did okay?’

‘No it doesn’t,’ he says. ‘But I need you to know it wasn't fake. None of it.’

You face him, hugging yourself with your pulse hammering.

‘Why tell me now?’

‘Because you won’t even look at me,’ he says — low and raw. ‘And I’m going insane not being able to fit it.’

You falter as he steps closer.

For the first time, Sunghoon looks almost unguarded. His thick brows draw down in stress, while his eyes speak a thousand words.

You allow him to get closer, closing the distance between you two until you feel your back hit the edge of the display table.

His gaze intense, you meet his eyes properly for the first time in weeks, ‘I’ve wanted you the moment I saw you. Please believe me when I say I didn’t choose her, but you.’

It was the unravelling.

With both hands you pull on Sunghoon's collar, bringing your lips together in a harsh kiss.

His lips were as good as you remember, perfectly fitting and moulding to yours. You pulled him by the collar and kissed him hard. He met you with equal force; tongue, teeth, and hands. Nothing gentle. Months of repression dissolved into that kiss. You both fight for dominance, tugging on any surface of each other you can grasp, teeth hitting each other as the kiss becomes louder, messier.

Sunghoon groans into the kiss, his hands finally finding purchase on your hips, however, the intensity doesn’t fade as he tightens his grip, pushing a knee between your legs.

‘You’ve made me wait so long for this.’ he says, separating the kiss whilst still slightly brushing his lips against yours.

You laugh softly, looking up into his eyes that pool with yearning, ‘You deserve it.’

His lips twitched against your neck.

Gentle kisses turn into rough sucks and bites along your neck as he bit down, leaving swelling reds and deepening purples in his wake. He takes his time, slowly trailing the slope of your body, his lips placing one last gentle kiss on your sternum before he begins to unbutton your blouse — unwrapping you like a secret he already knew was his.

‘Turn around for me angel.’

You turn around, hands mounting your body weight onto the display table as you slightly arch your back. Shivers travel down your body as Sunghoon smooths his hands down the contours of your body, as if memorising the shape.

Slowly unzipping your pencil skirt, he lets it drop and pool around your ankles. You whine in anticipation, the air conditioning hitting your skin through the mesh material of your hosiery.

You feel Sunghoon lightly palm your ass, the hosiery giving friction against his as he lightly slaps your thigh.

‘Sir,’ you whisper, looking over your shoulder to see Sunghoon’s hungrier eyes absorbing your form.

Then a soft tug.

riipp

A sharp gasp left your mouth as sunghoon tore your hosiery open, a stretching hole between the seam revealing your lace underwear exposed to lustful eyes.

You felt yourself clench, the cold air making you feel even more exposed, your blouse slowly dropping off your shoulders and the balls of your feet prickling with heat in your heels.

‘Fuck, youre soaking already.’ Sunghoon relishes, sinking to his knees in his perfectly tailored dress pants.

“The black looks stunning on you, angel,” he breathes, his voice low and enticing as he inches closer, his nose teasing the damp fabric. “But just imagine how breathtaking you’d be in white. Light pink would be absolutely mesmerising.”

You moan at the friction, the tip of his nose bumping your clit, with whines spilling out of you.

Instead, he pushes the lace aside, dragging his tongue in one long, aching stripe from your clit to your dripping entrance. You jerk forward from the shock of it, steadying yourself on trembling forearms.

Then again — slower. Deliberate. Lapping at you like he’s savouring every second.

You feel his lips curve.

His voice, a low murmur, brushes against your warmth. “You taste so sweet," he whispers, savoring each word as if it were a delicacy.

You moan, louder this time. He chuckles before flattening his tongue and sucking your clit into his mouth, the suction enough to make your knees buckle.

Slap.

You cry out, half from surprise, half from pleasure as he lands a light smack to your thigh. When you squirm, he holds you tightly. “Don’t run.”

He spreads you wider with both hands, thumbs digging into your skin like he owns it, and sinks his tongue into you, fucking you with long, steady strokes. Wet, obscene sounds echo between your thighs, louder than you expected in the echo of the boutique.

“Sir—” You gasp, voice breaking.

He hums against you, his own arousal visible in how his hips grind subtly against the floor. It’s messy, uncoordinated, completely unprofessional, but youve never wanted something more in your life.

Your orgasm builds fast, embarrassingly fast — but he knows it. Of course he knows.

He pulls back for only a moment, replacing his tongue with two fingers — long, precise, curling deep as he wraps his lips around your clit again and sucks harder.

You see stars. Heat rushes up your spine, and with a strangled gasp, you unravel completely — shaking and moaning his name as your orgasm rips through you like fire.

Your body sags forward, trembling.

But Sunghoon doesn’t stop.

You whimper. “Hoon—too much—”

He groans, almost annoyed, standing swiftly. His fingers dig into your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.

“Do it for me baby, I know you can” he murmurs into your shoulder, pecking it lightly.

Your lips part, breathless. You don’t answer.

You don’t need to.

You reach for his belt.

He catches your wrist — just for a second. His eyes bore into yours. “Tell me you want this.

“I do,” you breathe. “I want you.”

The restraint he’s clung to finally snaps.

His belt unclicks. Zipper down. You only manage to glimpse the flushed head of his cock before he’s nudging the tip between your legs, sliding it slowly through your slickness.

He groans deep in his throat. “Fuck. You’re soaked.”

You brace your hands on the edge of the table. “Don’t tease.”

“I’m not.” He grips your hips and finally thrusts in — one smooth, hard stroke, bottoming out with a strained exhale. “God. You fit like a dream.”

You cry out, the stretch fiery but addicting. He gives you only a moment before he pulls back and thrusts again — deeper, harder, his grip bruising.

The table rocks beneath you with his body caging you in, jostling as you push your hips back to meet his.

He leans forward, pressing his chest to your back, lips brushing your ear.

“I smelt the candle on you, that one i bought you,’ gasping with each thrust, ‘Do you know what that did to me? Every time I smell that fragrance in public?’

You turn your head just enough to catch his mouth. The kiss is raw, hot, all teeth and tongue and sweat.

He thrusts deeper. Harder.

Your walls flutter around him. He swears against your skin.

“Close,” he mutters. “So fucking close—”

You whimper, words slurred. “Want you to come inside.”

That’s all it takes.

‘Fuck, let me spoil you, angel.’ He groans, ‘Let me buy you everything baby. You won’t need anyone else.’

Burying himself in you with one final thrust as he spills inside. Sunghoon clutches you tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again.

The room goes quiet. Just the sound of breathing. Your trembling knees. His weight draped along your spine.

He doesn’t pull out right away. Just stays there, his hand splayed against your lower belly, as if trying to feel the way you still pulse around him.

‘Don’t leave me again.’

‘Just make sure you remind her that champagne isn’t her colour.’

[hoonharem]

biting hoons biceps to contain moans while he fucks you 😔 leaving hickeys on it too!?!?!? Gym bros are confused on how his arm got all bruised up

freaky deaky i see 🧘🏻‍♀️

✧ tw. smut (18+ mdni!), rough sex, biting, marking/hickeys

sunghoon's bicep wraps around your throat, your teeth sinking into it to suppress your moans as he fucks into you from behind against the bathroom counter, his cock filling you up just how you like it. your body jolts forward with every thrust, mouth clinging to his muscle as you muffle the broken sounds coming out of your throat.

"you love this cock, huh? can't fucking stay quiet, can you?" he hisses, smirking as he watches you get so cockdrunk and dumb that the only way to stay quiet is to latch your mouth onto his arm. his free hand lands a stinging slap on your ass, making you wince.

you don't even bother answering. well.. you can't! you're too busy drooling all over his skin, body limp as he holds you firmly in place, chest pressed to your back while he fucks you until your brain turns to mush. when you both finally cum and your mouth leaves his arm, lips a deep pink and swollen, there's a trail of hickeys along his bicep. you didn't even realize how hard you were biting—heck, even sucking?

when he hits the gym later that day, all he hears is, "yo, what happened to your arm?"

"don't worry about it." sunghoon shrugs, but the image of your mouth biting into his bicep while he pounded into you keeps replaying in his head.

[hoonharem]

daddy’s girl

pairing ↠ dilf!sunghoon x (f) reader (ft. bf!jake)

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, age gap (18+), unprotected sex, stepcest, underaged drinking, toxic relationship, reader is barely 18, this is like extremely gross don’t say you weren’t warned

summary ↠ sunghoon has been your stepdad since you were maybe thirteen or fourteen. at first, you didn’t want anything to do with him - not to go to his and your mom’s wedding, not to move to his state, and definitely not to live in his house. you had convinced yourself that all men were the same. but sunghoon was nothing like the father that had abandoned you at the worst possible time and left you to deal with your emotionally unavailable mother. he was kind, sweet, caring. and as you grow older, you find yourself falling for the one person you should never, under any circumstances, want.

wc ↠ 20k

a/n ↠ my first real fic all year 🥹 as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

for as long as you could remember, you had never been particularly fond of your boyfriend’s friends.

they were outright obnoxious, and even that was you being kind and considerate. their voices boomed loudly and their laughter rang out, and the demeaning remarks they made too often to be mere jokes always made you a little uncomfortable. 

though they knew better than to make any lewd comments about you, at least. most of them were about a pretty girl wandering the party, or their girlfriend of the week. but you weren’t dumb. you saw the way they looked at you every now and then, judging you. scorning you. tearing you apart. 

no comments were spoken squarely to your face, but you knew they were conjured. it made you wonder what they said to jake when you weren’t there on his lap, and you wondered if he chimed along. 

thick clouds of smoke loomed in the stuffy air, making it difficult to breathe. you coughed into your fist, feeling your throat itch. honest to god, you had absolutely no clue how they smoked that shit. the one time jake had coaxed you into putting a joint to your mouth, you had thought you were dying.

jay said something that abruptly made the group of boys burst into laughter. you jolted, lifting your head from jake’s shoulder. he tightened his arm, which was looped around your back, holding you against him. “jake?” you whispered. 

“hm?”

you were reluctant to say anything, knowing how he would likely respond, but you didn’t want to be here anymore. “can we go somewhere else?”

jake exhaled through his nose. you knew he didn’t want to leave. to him, these nights with his friends were harmless little exploits that made his life a little easier. 

it didn’t help that he was already annoyed with you. when he swung by earlier to pick you up, he looked you up and down, and the first thing to leave his mouth was a disgruntled, “why do you always dress so childishly?”

you had never thought of your bright colors and cute patterns as inherently childish. matter of fact, the cute, brown top with stitched teddy bears you were wearing was one of your favorite shirts. 

“why do you want to leave?” jake asked softly, gently rubbing your back in hopes of soothing you. 

“it’s too noisy,” you complained, peering up at him.

jake could have rolled his eyes. fuck’s sake, it was a party. obviously, it wasn’t going to sound like a prayer hall. “if you smoked a little, it wouldn’t bother you.”

“i don’t like smoking.”

“that’s because you’re not used to it, baby,” jake reasoned. 

“i don’t want to get used to it,” you mumbled. “you guys all pass around the same joint. you’ve basically kissed each other. which means that when you kiss me, i’m kissing all of them.”

jake groaned, “you’re so dramatic, you know that, sweetheart? it’s just a joint.”

“can you please just take me home?” you pleaded. between the rings of smoke hanging over you and the resounding thud of music and the cacophony of loud voices, you felt like you were suffocating.

jake was silent for a few moments, jaw tight. something tightened in your chest, recognizing the look on his face as something angry. before you could change your mind, jake pushed you off his lap, watching you scramble onto your feet, and spoke, “gonna call it a night early, gang. my special princess over here is too good to hang with us.”

jungwon groaned. jay rolled his eyes. heeseung snickered, not so discreetly looking at your legs, and said, “bye, princess.”

jake flipped him off and guided you away, murmuring, “come on, baby.” his hand was on the small of your back.

the two of you pushed past the bundle of people partying in the main room, which was easier with your tall, respected boyfriend in tow. your shoulders relaxed when you were outside. you were happy to be breathing in the fresh air rather than smoking and doing whatever else people could get their hands on.

jake opened the door on the passenger side of his car, letting you climb inside. by the time you were on the road, his hand was on your thigh.

you didn’t mind that. jake was a very touchy boyfriend and he always had his hands all over you. the attention was something you needed, something you craved. it was just safe enough to make you feel wanted within the boundaries of your control.

but then, after maybe ten or fifteen minutes, his hand started to move. you tore your gaze from the window down to the motion on your lap, stomach churning as you sensed his hands slipping further and further. then, your eyes went up to his face. his eyes were on the road, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

everyone was nervous about losing their virginity. everyone was scared of firsts. but for you, it was a little more than that. you weren’t scared of what happened during the act; you were terrified of what came after.

would jake still want you after you gave him what he’d been coveting? would he come back for more? could you meet his expectations, compare to the fantasies he’d crafted in his mind and had been hoping to enact?

you couldn’t know for sure. once you gave him what he wanted, you had nothing to keep him around anymore; nothing to rein him back in after the night was over. and the last thing you wanted was to be alone again. it had been okay, the ice, the nip, when it was all you’d ever known, but now that you had known how it felt to be warm, you didn’t want to remember how it felt to freeze.

“jake,” you called out softly. “what are you doing?”

“nothing, baby,” jake lied sweetly, feigning innocence. all the while, his hand was continuing to move up your leg. slowly, but surely. 

when he got too close, you decided that you were more than a little uncomfortable and gingerly pushed his hand away, as if not to upset him. “babe, i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

jake forced a smile, and somehow, that was more unnerving than if he had screamed at you, exasperated. “goddamn it, woman,” he murmured. “you already dragged me away from my friends. the least you could do is make it worth it.”

you swallowed, guilt hitting you like a punch in the chest. but the anxious stirring in your stomach was a thousand times worse, a million times louder, and potent tenfold. “i’m sorry,” was all you could bring yourself to say. 

jake scoffed, refusing to look at you. which was probably not so bad, all things considered. “yeah, you should be,” he grumbled. 

your eyes watered, but you looked out the window and tried to think of happier, kinder times. you didn’t want to cry, not until you were alone where no one could see. you hated crying in front of others. it was embarrassing. to say nothing of the fact that whenever jake reduced you to tears, he called you a crybaby, and he’d already made you feel childish enough.

the rest of the drive home was silent, save for the sound of the wind blowing through your hair and the occasional honking; your only refuge in the midst of your struggle to be the perfect girlfriend. the cool night breeze calmed you, soothed you, and traffic felt familiar. it was oddly comforting, being stuck between two things with nowhere to go. 

a feeling you knew all too well. 

the only downside was that the longer you stayed there, hardly moving, the longer you had to pretend everything was okay and try desperately not to sob.

it felt like forever before you were finally back home. you immediately got out of the car, having assumed that jake wanted nothing more to do with you right now. 

to your surprise, he sighed and willed himself to get out of the car, walking you to your front door. 

you peered up at him, trying to read his face, trying to understand where he was at and where you had pushed him. “are you mad at me?” you asked timidly, as if you didn’t truly want to know the answer.

jake took his time to answer, exhaling quietly. “no, baby,” he said after a moment. “i’m not mad. but you can’t avoid sex forever, you know. that’s what people do. it’s natural.”

he said it so outrightly, so bluntly. as if it was really, truly just another thing that everyone did, that had no risk and no consequence. you admired his fearlessness sometimes, wondering how his life had unfolded for him to be so bold, and realized you knew very little about him. “i know,” you whispered. 

jake reached for your hand, tenderly brushing his fingers over your knuckles. “but?”

you released a shaky breath. jake understood you, some ways better than others. he may have been completely clueless in some regards, but your body language was not one. shy, you confessed, “but i’m scared.”

“why are you scared?” jake asked, keeping his voice soft and level. “do you not trust me, sweetheart?”

“no, i do,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not. “but what if it’s not what you’re expecting?”

jake chuckled, as if that was absurd. “baby, relax,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “you could never disappoint me.”

your eyes got a little wider, a little starrier, watching him as if he was your whole world. “are you sure?”

“yeah, i’m sure, baby,” he told you, pressing a final kiss to your lips. “goodnight, sweetheart.”

“goodnight,” you whispered, watching him slowly start to back away. “text me when you get home.”

jake bobbed his head in acknowledgment and started to walk back to his car.

you unlocked the front door of your house, hoping to god your mother wasn’t somewhere lounging around or smoking. your stepfather didn’t enjoy when she smoked inside the house, but he was gone for the weekend. which, to her, meant his rules didn’t matter.

there was no sight of your mother when you walked into the house. but you blinked in surprise when you saw your stepfather’s favorite coat hanging on the rack in the foyer. you didn’t know people actually had those until you moved in with him.

sunghoon was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up halfway to his shoulders, drinking coffee out of a mug you’d designed for his birthday when you were roughly fourteen. it was stupid and kind of ugly, but the fact that he still drank from it, even after four years, warmed your heart.

“daddy?” you called, stunned. you weren’t expecting him to be here for another day. 

“hey, doll,” sunghoon greeted, setting down his mug for a second. “you look surprised.”

you nodded your head. compared to what you heard in endless amounts of fiction, sunghoon didn’t go on many business trips. one a month, usually, for less than three days. “i thought you were coming back tomorrow?”

“we were able to wrap things up early,” sunghoon explained briefly. he didn’t like to bore you with the details of his job, though you often asked him about it, which was somewhat endearing.

“oh,” you mumbled. you tried not to show how happy you were. most times when you were alone here with your mother, you tried to go out as much as you possibly could, which was the only reason you had agreed to hang out with jake and his friends tonight. 

“yeah.” sunghoon’s eyes flitted over your body, making you feel a little self-conscious. he would habitually remember to pick up his mug and wince at how hot his coffee was. “you look cute.”

you blinked. sunghoon always complimented the way you dressed, often reminding you how cute and beautiful you were. you wished your boyfriend was more like that. “thanks,” you replied, coming over to hug him.

sunghoon set his mug down again and threw his arms around you, gentle as ever. but he smelled something on you that he didn’t exactly love. “you went out with that boy again, didn’t you?”

“how did you know?”

“you smell like weed,” he answered bluntly. 

your cheeks burned. the smell had followed you home, clinging to you. you didn’t notice it on yourself, but you knew how much he hated it. “i didn’t smoke,” you told him. “i was just next to them.”

sunghoon chuckled. he knew that. you hated the mere smell of smoke, always scrunching up your face whenever it stuck to your mother or whatever spot she’d chosen to get high at. “you don’t need to explain yourself to me, doll. i know you.”

you nodded, even more embarrassed. reluctantly, you pulled away and sat on the barstool next to him. it was late and you were kind of sleepy, exhausted of having to try so hard, but you wanted to talk to him.

ironically, it was silent for a moment as sunghoon sipped his coffee and you tried to think of what to say. sunghoon spoke first, mentioning offhandedly, “i don’t like your boyfriend.”

you sighed, resting your head against the island. “i don’t really like him, either.”

that threw sunghoon off. “so why are you still dating him?”

“i don’t know,” you huffed.

sunghoon’s eyes were fixed on you, wanting to get to the bottom of it and willing to confront the issue that you weren’t. you had no business staying in a relationship you weren’t content with. “is he threatening you?” he asked.

your shot up, eyes widening. “no, he’s not making me date him.”

if anything, that only served to make sunghoon even more alarmed, and he pressed, “what is he making you do?”

“he’s not making me do anything,” you replied quietly, knowing that wasn’t the best way to put it. “it’s just that… he wants to have sex.”

“and you don’t?” sunghoon finished for you. the topic didn’t make him feel awkward or uncomfortable, even if you were, by law, his daughter. he was the one person in the world you could talk to about anything and everything without fear, and he took great pride in that.

you shrugged, repeating, “i don’t know.”

“well, you gotta know something, baby,” sunghoon teased. “do you, or do not you?”

ignoring the way the pet name made you feel, you tried to think about it, hard. “i mean, he’s cute. and he’s nice enough most of the time,” you murmured, engrossed in thought. “but i guess i don’t really trust him that much yet. and i don’t want to give my body to someone i don’t trust.”

sunghoon hummed in understanding. “you know that’s not a bad thing, right?”

you sighed, shoulders slumped. “i guess.”

sunghoon placed his hand on your cheek, his touch feather light, as if you had a fragile warning on your forehead. “you can do so much better than him,” he whispered. “i know you’re going to do whatever you want at the end of the day, but as your father, i’m going to look out for you.”

but could you do any better? jake was your first boyfriend in years. maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he was better than all the failed talking stages you’d been through. if you held onto the good memories, the ones like only a moment ago where he held you tenderly and touched you with affection, you could bear the hurt.

but there was nothing like that with sunghoon. the way he touched you now, his hand on your face, was something you could always expect. “thank you for that.”

sunghoon shook his head. “you don’t need to thank me. it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

no, you have no obligation to do that, you thought to yourself, bemused. for nearly five years, he had been going above and beyond for you, treating you as if you were his very own daughter. you couldn’t understand it. 

but you appreciated it. you appreciated everything. the way he reminded you how beautiful you were, the way he spent time with you even when he was exhausted, the way he listened to your problems and told you everything was going to be okay. without him, you would be so much more broken. 

but you didn’t let your thoughts wander there. it was too much suppressed pain that you weren’t ready to uncover. “daddy, are you tired?”

sunghoon shrugged. “not really. i probably won’t go to sleep until around two. why?”

“do you want to watch a scary movie with me?” you asked, hopeful. yearnful. 

sunghoon could see it in your eyes. he had learned to become very good at reading you after so long, though you’d always worn your emotions on your face. especially when you were thinking. it was very hard for you to lie. chuckling at the thought, he replied, “why not?”

you smiled, removing his hand from your face to slip your fingers through his as you hopped off the barstool, and led him to the living room.

the two of you settled on a nightmare on elm street and you went on to complain about how much you disliked eighties horror, much to sunghoon’s amusement. he tried to remind you that the technology and equipment available decades ago wasn’t the same as in the current age, but you didn’t budge.

apparently, you found the movie so boring that you fell asleep watching young johnny depp get devoured by a mattress. your head was on sunghoon’s shoulder, the couch blanket draped over you as you snored softly.

when you woke up, you were in your bed, cocooned inside your comforter instead and surrounded by stuffed dolls as birds chirped outside your window and the morning breeze whistled through the air.

none of which you had time to enjoy or even perceive, because the thing that had jolted you awake was the sound of a fist banging against your bedroom door. you groaned and willed yourself to climb out of bed, grumbling something underneath your breath, and threw the door open exasperatedly.

your mother was standing there in her robe, eyes red. “why didn’t you wash dishes?” 

you fought a groan. that was the first thing to come out of her mouth? really? “wasn’t aware i was supposed to,” you said groggily.

clearly, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. “i don’t want to wake up to a dirty kitchen. we’ve been over this.”

you could have rolled your eyes at that. then, clean it up yourself, you retorted in your head. it wasn’t like you had made the mess. “you cooked while i wasn’t here and i didn’t have any.” i didn’t think i needed to clean up after you.

“that doesn’t mean shit,” she snapped. “you don’t have a job, you don’t do anything around the house. you need to take some responsibility.”

with that, your mother turned and walked away. 

you closed the door and exhaled through your nose, trying to calm yourself. you had been awake for less than five minutes and she had already managed to piss you off.

and over the most ridiculous thing. it couldn’t have been that hard to clean up after herself instead of trying to make it your problem. maybe you didn’t have a job, but she didn’t either. and the only reason you apparently didn’t do anything around the house was because you never did anything to destroy it in the first place.

and because you very rarely left your room when your mother was there. something about her presence left you on edge. there were many times you went hungry just because you didn’t want to pass her in the living room on the way to the kitchen for a snack. for as long as you could remember, the familiar sound of her bracelets rattling and her sandals tapping the floor had made your heart race.

in the middle of trying to undo your frustration, you thought of something. you had woken up in bed, even though you’d most definitely fallen asleep on the couch with sunghoon, and you had no memory of making the journey upstairs. 

which meant he’d carried you.

your heart fluttered. something about that thought - the thought of a bigger, stronger man carrying you - did unspeakable damage to your brain. you knew he was your stepfather, knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help but picture what else he could do with all that strength. 

it was also worth mentioning that you were very vulnerable when you were just lying there innocently, asleep. he could have done anything to you if he wanted. if only he had wanted it.

almost the whole day had passed when, to your surprise, you had gotten a text from jake inviting you to hang out with him again. you had assumed he’d want time to himself after last night. but you wasted no time in getting ready, doing something different with your usually dolly makeup, and putting on a miniskirt to seem a little more mature.

you had been close to walking out of the front door, hurriedly walking past sunghoon and your mother who were sitting in the living room, until you heard your mother say, “come back. now.”

you slowly grinded to a halt, muttering annoyances to yourself, and forced a smile as you spun on your feet. “yes, mother dearest?”

“where the hell are you going at this time of night looking like a whore?” she asked, snappy.

you tried to take that in stride, but it was hard. she never failed to hurt your feelings.

your mother didn’t even give you the opportunity to respond before she demanded, “take that off.”

you stood your ground. “no.”

your mother looked at you like she wanted to lunge at you. ever since you had turned eighteen, which wasn’t even that long ago, you had gotten bolder. “if you leave wearing that, you’re just begging for it. don’t come crying to me if something happens.”

your eyes stung. how could she say something like that?

sunghoon made a face and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to stop her before she went too far. “doll,” he said to you, taking over. “i know you’re an adult now, but we still want you to be safe. i don’t know where you’re going, but i don’t trust this world enough to honor that wish. can you change, please? for me?”

switching on a dime, you replied meekly, “okay, daddy,” and went back upstairs to change your skirt.

your mother gawked in disbelief. then her expression flashed to anger. “why does she listen to you and not to me?”

“you called her a whore,” sunghoon replied, unsurprised. “i wouldn’t have listened, either.”

“i said she looked like one.”

sunghoon sighed. “that doesn’t make it any better. you know she’s sensitive. either way, you shouldn’t have said that.”

your mother said nothing, sulking. in her mind, it didn’t matter the delivery. she was your mother and she didn’t enjoy being disrespected.

the skirt you changed into was a little longer, at the least halfway down your thighs. you had been quick to change, grateful your bed was still littered in pile of skirts you’d handpicked (and would unfortunately have to clean later), and rushed outside to slide into the passenger seat of jake’s car.

the party he took you to tonight was better than the last one, at least. there were probably still people smoking and partying hard, but jake had you in the kitchen, where thankfully few people were.

jake handed you one of two red plastic cups with some kind of liquid in them. “here you go, baby.”

though you accepted the cup, you looked at it with scrunched brows, then back up at him. “what is this?”

“a mix of things,” jake replied with extreme vagueness. “just try it, sweetheart.”

you didn’t question him, just turning the cup up like it was juice, which you quickly realized couldn’t have been further from the truth. you grimaced, ears and throat burning, and put a hand on your chest. “what the fuck?”

jake furrowed his brows, feigning innocence. “you don’t like it?”

you shook your head. you’d had alcohol before, a few times when you were maybe fifteen and had sneakily took a shot of tequila from your mom’s pantry, but you had grown out of that. plus, you were still underaged in terms of drinking. “no, it burns,” you complained. “i’m not supposed to drink anyway.”

“you have such a stick up your ass,” jake teased, taking the cup from you and throwing back a gulp like it was nothing. he was only a year older than you, nineteen, and had no business drinking, either.

you shook your head in disapproval, though you knew it probably wasn’t much worse than him smoking.

“here,” he said, giving you the other cup he had been holding. this one was clear. “try this one. i think you’ll like it.”

you were reluctant, considering how much you disliked the first one he’d given you, but with how expectantly he was looking at you, you grabbed the cup and took a tentative taste. your eyes widened. it tasted like juice. 

jake chuckled at your reaction. “good, right?”

you nodded, taking another sip. which became another, and another, until your head started to feel a little woozy. by the time you started to recognize it, you were already more than tipsy.

jake hoisted you into his arms like it was nothing and sat you atop the counter, draping his hands over your exposed thighs. “you look so pretty today,” jake mused aloud, admiring your skirt. “you get all cute for me?”

“yeah,” you murmured, eyes fluttering. it was all you could do to keep them open and suddenly, you wanted to go to bed.

“sleepy drunk, aren’t you?” jake asked, moving his hands to your waist to keep you upright. “heeseung’s room is upstairs. wanna go to bed, baby?”

you did, but certainly not here. you were drunk, not stupid. with you and him alone in a closed bedroom, there was no telling what all he would and wouldn’t do. and the fact that it belonged to heeseung only strengthened your hesitation.

“no, it’s okay,” you told him, shaking your head softly. you gingerly pushed yourself off the counter and onto your feet. “i’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

jake grabbed your hand, not wanting to let you loose just yet. “let me help you.”

“it’s okay,” you repeated, brushing him off. your heart thudded, nervous. “stay here.”

jake begrudgingly let you go, watching you disappear in the crowd with his jaw set. you just always managed to evade him, didn’t you?

you stumbled a little at first, but found your balance, making your way through the flock of other drunk partygoers. you gripped the railing for dear life as you climbed up the stairs, searching for the bathroom.

it was by the grace of god that you were able to find it and lock yourself inside without walking in on a couple trying to touch and feel on each other. you sighed in relief, digging around your bag for your phone. you had to get out of here, now.

with two incorrect attempts, you were able to enter your password and immediately went to your contacts, dialing the one person you knew you needed at a time like this. the one person who you could trust would be there for you no matter what.

sunghoon picked up on the second ring, answering, “hello?”

“daddy?”

even if it was only one word, sunghoon could hear in your tone that something wasn’t right. “yes, doll? is something wrong?”

“i think i messed up,” you murmured, grabbing onto the sink counter to stabilize yourself.

sunghoon’s brows stitched with worry, even if you couldn’t see. “what did you do? are you okay? are you hurt?”

“i don’t feel so good right now,” you replied, feeling drowsy. “i drank and i shouldn’t have, and… can you just come pick me up? please.”

you heard shuffling in the background, like he was already moving. “send me your location.”

fifteen minutes later, give or take, sunghoon called you and told you that he was outside.

you grabbed your phone and unlocked the bathroom door, heading straight for the stairs and making a beeline for the front door, wanting to leave before jake could spot you and do more damage. the second you saw your stepfather’s car, you hurried over, nearly tripping over your own legs.

thankfully, you were able to get inside his car without any problems, shutting the door and dragging the seatbelt over you.

sunghoon glanced at you, relieved to see that you were in one piece, but still worried. “are you okay?”

you nodded your head, sighing in relief just as the seatbelt clicked. “i’m okay,” you said, quiet. “thank you.”

sunghoon knew he should have been scolding you for drinking when you were only eighteen, but he was more concerned about your wellbeing at the moment. “why were you drinking?” he asked softly.

you swallowed, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer, but you had to be honest. “jake gave me a cup and told me to try it.”

sunghoon exhaled, starting the car. if you were going to talk about jake, it was best that he was far, far away from wherever he was. “he’s no good for you, you know that?”

you turned away and looked out the window, eyes watering. 

sunghoon glanced over for a split second and reached out with his right hand, his left one gripping the wheel. “i don’t mean to make you cry, baby. but you know i’ll never lie to you.”

“i know,” you whispered, trying to fight the tears. god, you hated how you couldn’t control them, how they fell at any minor inconvenience and there was nothing you could do to stop them. 

he would never understand; no one could. the reason you went back to jake even though you knew in your heart of hearts that he was just another boy that would never love you. hell, you hardly understood yourself. it was fair, considering you couldn’t say that you loved him either, but you felt something. 

and it was this unidentified something that kept you tied to him like a knot rather than severing the bond. you didn’t love him, no, you hardly trusted him, but you liked him enough. he was your second best. 

though sunghoon’s eyes were on the road, he still had a tender hand on yours, squeezing it firmly. “why do you keep hurting yourself like this, doll? you’re too smart to be fooling around with boys like that.”

“he’s all i have,” you said, your voice feeble. 

sunghoon’s brows furrowed, confused. “that’s not true. you have me, you have your mom, and you have tons of friends and family that love you. what makes you feel like he’s all you have?”

family i feel disconnected from, friends i only show half of myself to, and an emotionally unavailable mother who wants to control my whole life, you thought with a resentment you had been nursing for years. 

you swallowed it down, even though it was bitter and lingered on your tongue, and answered softly, “because sometimes, when he’s not angry, when he’s not smoking or drinking or trying to hook up, when he’s listening to me and looking at me like i mean something to him, i get to feel like he loves me.”

sunghoon didn’t skip a beat. “and how many times is that, baby?”

that hit you like the ceiling crashing down on your chest. all your life, you had just wanted somebody to love you. you had just wanted to feel like you mattered to someone and you had gone through great lengths just to hear it from another person’s mouth. you had always tried.

the only person in the world you never had to try with was your stepfather. the man had gone out of his way, since you were thirteen years old, to treat you like his own. at first, you had wanted nothing to do with him - not to go to his and your mother’s wedding, not to move to his state, and most definitely not to live in his house. you had convinced yourself from a young age that all men were the same.

but sunghoon was nothing like the father that had abandoned you just when you needed him most and left you to deal with your mother who was incapable of expressing any affection to you in a normal, healthy manner. sunghoon was kind, sweet, loving. he was patient with you, spent quality time with you, spoiled you with gifts and listened to your problems. 

all things your father did when you were a little girl, when everything had been okay, once upon a time. 

it was only natural that you found yourself gravitating towards him more often than not, wanting to be around him, wanting to hear his voice, wanting to hold him and spend every waking moment with him. and it was only even more natural that eventually, your heart began to flutter around him. 

but you suppressed it, because you weren’t that dumb. you knew there were no chances of him reciprocating your feelings, not when he loved you with the love of a father. but the nipping void inside you was still there, and it had never felt more empty. 

you knew it would be a bad idea to look at sunghoon, so you kept your eyes fixed on the gleaming towers and lights shimmering on the water as he crossed a bridge. “i know it doesn’t make sense,” you willed yourself to respond. “it doesn’t make sense to me, either.”

for a moment, sunghoon was silent. he may not have understood, but he wanted to deliver his words in the right way. in the end, he chose compassion. “feelings don’t always make sense, especially not right away, and especially not when you’re young and experiencing them for the first time. but that doesn’t mean you have to let them control you.”

arms crossed, you grumbled, “easier said than done.”

“i know it is, doll,” sunghoon whispered. “i know it is.”

something in his tone made you finally turn to face him. your eyes glimmered and you begged, “please, don’t tell mom.”

sunghoon looked conflicted, like he was weighing his options, but he knew what the most effective choice would be. “i won’t, but you can’t keep doing stuff like this, kiddo. it worries me.”

if there was anything you hated, it was that pet name. “i’m not a kid. i’m eighteen.”

“and thirty days,” sunghoon added dryly.

he said that like it meant something. you retorted, “what, are you keeping track?”

“i’m just good at quick math.”

you scoffed. it was probably true, considering all the things you saw him calculating when it came to complicated business things you never understood, but that didn’t make it any better. “okay. how old are you?” you asked knowingly. 

“thirty-nine.”

“what’s thirty-nine minus eighteen?”

“twenty-one,” sunghoon answered without any forethought.

more than twice my age. you knew that. not that it was hard to figure out, but that wasn’t the point. at some point, you had become obsessed with those numbers, crafting a delicate list of reasons why it could never work with your stepfather. the age gap, the marriage, the this and the that. 

but on the other hand, none of those things really mattered to you. you may have still been young, but you were an adult now. a legal adult. 

“besides,” sunghoon continued, seemingly unaware of where your mind had wandered. “i’ll always worry about you, no matter how old you are.”

your heart did exactly what you didn’t want it to do, what you had been trying to fight against for god knows how long now; it soared. 

if you weren’t regretting your night enough already, you definitely were by the time you went inside the house, realizing everything you had to do before you dropped into bed. “god, i have to shower and take off my makeup,” you grumbled, walking with a stammer. 

sunghoon kicked his shoes off by the door and grabbed your hand, lest you fell and hurt yourself. “i’ll help you.”

your eyes flickered in surprise. “you don’t have to do that.”

“it’s okay,” sunghoon replied, already steering you upstairs. “you need some guidance.”

you didn’t know what he meant by that, or maybe you did and you were simply in denial, but you didn’t ask. 

sitting you atop the counter in your bathroom, sunghoon picked out the pack of makeup wipes that were already sitting there and gently began to wipe your face, pushing a stray braid behind your ear. he seemed focused, eyes squinting and his thicks brows furrowing.

you were focused too, watching him intently the entire time. it was difficult to ignore the way your heart raced when he got so close, the way your body seared with heat when he touched your cheek. it wasn’t necessarily even affectionately, which only served to make you more disappointed in yourself.

but sometimes, when you were staring hard enough, much like right now, you noticed more than just how handsome he was. you noticed the little scrunch of his brows when he was concentrating, you noticed the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. when it was as quiet as it was right now, you could even hear his breathing almost as subtle as the faint scent of cologne on him that had worn throughout the day.

maybe it was somewhat obsessive, but you didn’t do it on purpose. sunghoon made it easy to tune the world out and ignore everything that wasn’t him.

after washing your face, sunghoon grabbed you something to wear and asked, “need anything else, doll?”

“no, daddy. i’ve got it,” you replied, grabbing a towel for your shower. the water was running behind the curtains. “thank you.”

sunghoon grinned softly and bent down to press his lips to your forehead in a tender kiss. “goodnight, baby,” he whispered.

“g’night, daddy.”

the door closed. you hated knowing that you were alone, that he wasn’t right there with you. at times, you got tempted to do things you used to do when you were younger, crawling into bed with him in the middle of the night, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. no matter how much you hated being separated.

you usually liked to milk time with him for all that it was worth, especially because he was always working. you stole the seat beside him at the dinner table, you watched him mend items in the house, and you spent a lot of time on the couch of his study when he was taking calls and doing paperwork. 

once you had gotten redressed after your shower, you slipped into bed with a sigh. there was always tomorrow.

the cereal boxes were pushed too far back again. 

you couldn’t reach them. even standing on your tippy toes, waving your hand aimlessly in hope of even scraping the damn corner of a box of cinnamon toast crunch, they were just too far. “ugh,” you whined, irritated.

sunghoon watched. his eyes were less on your challenging endeavor and more on the swell of your ass peeking from underneath your tiny nightgown as you rose off the heels of your feet onto your toes, noticing the way it jiggled when you stood normally again. there was a pang of guilt in his chest, watching you like that, but at the end of the day, sunghoon was just a man.

“i’ll get it,” sunghoon insisted, standing up from the bar to swing over without even having to ask which one you wanted. he routinely saw you only eat the same cereal.

you thanked him when he grabbed the box of cinnamon toast crunch and placed it securely into your hands. walking over to the counter where the milk and bowl were waiting, you noticed sunghoon come up behind you. at first, you thought he was just watching for whatever reason, so you ignored the thud in your chest at his proximity and poured the cereal. 

then, you carefully grabbed the milk, not wanting to spill it accidentally. you had been guilty of that before. without warning, his hands dropped below your waist and cupped your cheeks, making your eyes go wide. “daddy,” you gasped out, bemused. “what are you doing?”

sunghoon shushed you, giving your neck a fleeting kiss before he shifted his attention back downwards, pushing your nightgown up so that it would bunch around your hips. “quiet,” he whispered.

“daddy, the milk,” you whined, having lost control of your grip when he touched you, catching you by surprise. 

most of it had spilled out of its container, the bowl overflowing with streams of milk dripping off the counter that would stink if not cleaned soon enough. but some of it had splashed onto your face, chest and tummy. “shh,” sunghoon repeated. “don’t worry about it. you can milk something else.”

your face warmed in realization just as he began to press himself against you from behind, and the very big, very hard bulge in his pants made your mouth run dry.

or maybe it was the morning breath. because you woke up, sighing quietly at first, and turned to stretch your arm from underneath your blankets.

“what the fuck,” you grumbled a few minutes later when it dawned on you exactly what kind of dream you’d just had. 

sure, you’d had dreams about sunghoon before, but they were nothing to write home about; they were entirely random and didn’t make logical sense, or they were simple and mundane, and very often, you didn’t realize they were dreams at first because they were so realistic that they could have been memories.

that was definitely a dream. you couldn’t imagine sunghoon doing anything like that to you. well, you certainly could, but that wasn’t the point. it wasn’t realistic whatsoever, other than him extending himself to help you.

it made you horny to think about. everything about the dream had physically felt so real to you; sunghoon’s hands on your ass, his bulge pressing against you from behind, and his warmth radiating onto you hotly enough to make you melt.

part of you was tempted to go back to bed, ignoring the faint chirps of birds outside your window and the light reaching through white and pink curtains. if only you could have stayed asleep a little longer, just to see how it ended. if only sunghoon would have ever felt that way about you too, then maybe it could become true.

but he wouldn’t. and even if he somehow did, sunghoon was at work by now. so you did the one you never thought you would do. 

“hello?” jake said when he picked up the phone. 

your heart sped. you were about to propose something that you were none too sure about, but something had to be done about the festering ache between your legs. your fingers weren’t satisfying you anymore; they hadn’t in years. “jake,” you whispered. “hi.”

“hi,” jake repeated dryly, wondering what you wanted. you could hear in his tone that he still wasn’t particularly thrilled about last night.

you swallowed the lump in your throat. “i’m sorry for running away last night,” you murmured. “i didn’t want to abandon you like that. i was just… scared.”

jake made a noise, but it was so quiet and distorted that you couldn’t decide what to make of it. “you were scared,” he replied, echoing your words again.

you gave a deep, prolonged exhale. you knew that you were running out of time with him, that one day, he would grow sick of your excuses and your stalling. “i knew that… you were trying to have sex,” you explained. “and i didn’t… i didn’t feel comfortable. i was drunk. and then you said we were going to heeseung’s room, and i got even more worried.”

“why?”

“i don’t like heeseung,” you admitted, although you thought it would be obvious by now. “he looks at me weird.”

“baby,” jake sighed. you could hear how frustrated he was. “heeseung’s not gonna hurt you. he just likes to have a little fun. but if it makes you feel better, i’ll try to keep him in line.”

you were only half relieved. “thank you.”

“now, is that why you called me? to tell me heeseung makes you uncomfortable?” he asked. 

“no,” you stammered, playing with the hem of your shirt in attempt to distract yourself from your nerves. “there’s something else i wanted to tell you.”

“what is it, sweetheart?”

you blurted, “i think i’m ready.”

you could practically feel jake perk up. “like, seriously?” he asked, stunned. 

“yeah,” you replied, but it weak. there was a bit of regret in your chest when the word left your mouth, but you tried to swallow it down and keep it there. “i’m ready, jake. right now.”

jake was ruffling through something, probably his drawer. “shit,” he said, excited. you wondered if his heart was beating even half as fast as yours was. “where are you right now?”

“home.”

“can i come over?”

“yeah,” you muttered again. he lived far enough that you had time to wash up a little and get your mind together. “my dad is at work and my mom probably won’t be home until later. it’s just me.”

“i’m on the way,” jake said without missing a beat, quickly hanging up. 

you took a deep breath, trying to relax yourself. jake was your boyfriend. you were supposed to call him when you had needs; itches that needed scratching.

it was a conflict that had been warring in your mind for weeks, maybe subconsciously months. on the one hand, your lust was only centered around sunghoon and you were afraid of having sex with jake for more reasons than one. but on the other, the human desire for release had ran to a peak and now it was unignorable, your body begging to be satiated.

you knew what the most prudent choice would have been: dumping jake, getting over these unrational feelings for your stepfather, and no longer settling for men that treated you as less than what you deserved. but what did you look like being alone again, waiting for someone to decide they loved you, especially when your heart belonged to someone who could never be yours?

clearly, you were in no way in the position to make prudent choices. not when the need burning inside you outweighed the reason.

time went by faster than you thought, considering that jake didn’t particularly live nearby. you had spent the better half of that time in your own head, wondering what would happen, and the sound of the doorbell ringing jolted you out of your thoughts.

your heart was pounding with all its might as you made deliberately slow, steadys steps down the stairs and to the front door where you knew jake would be waiting. seeing his face when you opened the door only made you more anxious.

jake, on the other hand, beamed when he saw you. you weren’t sure if you had ever seen him smile at you like that before. “hey, baby,” he greeted, stepping inside.

“hi,” you murmured, shutting the door behind him.

jake coiled his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest. his alluring, familiar scent put you at ease a little more. “i missed you,” he whispered, fingers sliding underneath your shirt to draw patterns on your navel, almost as if he could sense your need for comfort. “you ran off on me last night.”

your smile was sheepish as you apologized again, “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay. i know why you did it,” jake said, glancing around as you led him out of the foyer little by little. “i just realized i’ve never been inside your house.”

that was not only true, but intentional; for obvious reasons, you didn’t want to be in the house with jake by yourself, but you also didn’t want him around your parents, either. your mother would find some way to embarrass you and the few times sunghoon and jake had met, there was strange tension in the air.

based on your mother’s behavioral patterns and those interactions alone, you had made the unilateral decision that it would be better for everyone involved if you kept your relationship with jake outside. “yeah,” you said, happy to think about anything but what was to come. “it’s better that way, don’t you think?”

jake chuckled, nodding his head. when he saw the stairs, he instinctively started heading that way. “yeah. i don’t think your dad likes me very much.”

“he’s just protective,” you replied, although you remembered sunghoon telling you outright that he didn’t like your boyfriend. 

“you don’t need protecting from me,” jake told you, slipping his hand down from your navel to your hand as you started up the steps. “have you been telling him mean things about me?”

define mean, was what you answered in your head. if anything, you had probably described jake too kindly, too gently. he had never hurt you, at least in the sense that he had never put his hands on you, but he was aggressive in other, more hurtful ways. “no, i told him the truth.”

“and what’s the truth?”

“that i love you,” you lied. “and i want to do this with you.”

jake looked like the happiest man alive, and something told you that it was unusual for him to be more enthusiastic in this moment than almost any other moment he’d spent with just the two of you. but the fear that had kept you close to him for so long was the same fear that had held you apart, and it was the same fear telling you to be silent.

but when jake opened the door to your bedroom, his face fell. “what’s all this?” 

your brows furrowed. “…my bedroom?”

“yours?” jake echoed, apparently appalled as he scanned your bedroom from left to right. 

the main culprit, however, seemed to be the miscellaneous plushies thrown about your bed. “oh,” you whispered, confused. your mother had found it childish and voiced her unwanted opinion every now and then, but you never thought it was so bad. 

jake scoffed, “what are you, thirteen? i’m not fucking you on that.”

“but, jake,” you started, noticing him turning back around. your stomach churned. he was leaving. 

shaking his head, jake threw the door open and said, “you really have to grow up, baby.”

you followed him, frantic. you knew he could your footsteps as you trailed behind him down the stairs, but he didn’t bother turning around, as if he had already decided he didn’t want to see you anymore. “jake, please don’t go,” you begged.

he didn’t listen. he didn’t even look at you, not until he made it to the front door and said, “goodbye,” followed by your name. then, he walked out the door, passing your mother on his way out.

as if this afternoon couldn’t get any worse.

as soon your mother stepped through the door, looking like she had been awake for the past twelve hours doing god knows what, she went, “really? you turn eighteen and think you can just do whatever you want? why the hell are you bringing boys over?” 

you were already on the verge of tears and you didn’t have the strength to put up with her, so for the first time in your life, you chose to walk away. she called after you, demanding you to come back, but you ignored it and raced upstairs to your bedroom.

it hurt more than it should have, watching jake leave like that, watching him go despite your pleas. maybe because it felt all too familiar. your brain recognized the feeling belligerently attacking you and your heart weakly surrendered to it, still too broken.

maybe you were always too broken, maybe that was why they never stayed. this is what men do, you told yourself through hot, wet tears. they take what they want, and then when it becomes even a little too much for them, they leave. nothing will change that. they won’t change themselves.

sitting alone by yourself in your closed bedroom with only your stuffed toys to bear witness to your suffering, it still felt humiliating. you had already come to the conclusion that what you felt for jake was not love, at least not of a romantic nature. and yet for the life of you, you couldn’t wrap your head around why it still hurt so bad.

it was a dizzying, throbbing ache that only persisted the longer you sat on the carpeted floor, weeping. for a fleeting moment, you were twelve again, old enough to recognize your first heartbreak but not enough to put a name to it. you remembered like it was yesterday, watching your father’s back as he walked out of the door, hauling the last of what he would bring with him into his new life, and leaving you in the old chapter.

there was a certain shape of hopelessness that you’d molded into, the loud, petty arguments and traded hits culminating in the few seconds it took to realize that you didn’t mean as much as a toothbrush, a watch, a box of wrenches or an old, wrinkled tee. because if you had, maybe he would have taken you, too.

and maybe if you meant more to jake than what was between your legs, he would still be here now. denying him sex for so long made you feel powerful; he was wrapped around your finger at some point, submissive, so to speak, and willing to do anything with the hopes that you would give it up. you took advantage of that. you used him so that for once in your life, you could feel wanted and in control.

and as you had ultimately come to expect, your woeful thoughts soon wandered to the greatest manifestation of your desires so far: sunghoon. it only seemed just that the world would taunt and tantalize you with the most perfect man you’d ever known, the only one you could ever trust with your heart. 

the cards had been dealt so that you had just enough access to admire how much of a dream he was, but not enough to let you slip away; you could doze off, vaguely picturing what it would be like in a world where the steep heights and pitless hollows of your affection could be reciprocated, but every time, you would be jolted back awake.

the more you thought about it, there had to be a reason why you seemed to want things more after coming to find there was no feasible way you could make them yours - because you wanted control. 

control, particularly over your own life, was something you had long wanted yet long been denied. you wanted to be able to make decisions for yourself without having your circumstances be shaped around the decisions of others. you didn’t want to suffer the consequences of a choice you had no say in. you wanted to reap what was rightfully yours. 

seeing someone like sunghoon, someone that you knew you could never have, only made him attractive tenfold. until now, you never noticed how this manifested similarly in other parts of your life, like in your overwhelming urge to prove yourself. to be the adult it seemed like everyone doubted you could be.

that’s why it’s so hard for me to accept denial and handle rejection, you rationalized as you peeled yourself off the floor and onto your bed, having finally stopped sobbing. because i’ve been denied simple pleasures my whole life, and yet people try to deny me even more.

thinking back to the little girl you once were, the one that was full of life and imagination, the one that foolishly had hoped her mother and father would stay together, the one that was innocent and naive, and knew nothing about how brutal reality truly was, you couldn’t help but burst into tears all over again.

because that little girl didn’t deserve to have to grow up so quickly. if you could have undone it all, if you could have spared that little girl the trauma of crying herself to sleep as she heard her parents arguing down the hall, if you could have stopped her dad from leaving for years, if you could have stopped her mom from inviting man to man into her life, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

and then there was the part of you that had always craved romance, the part of you that remained unfulfilled. combining this lifelong grapple with control with an unattainable lover, it was no secret why you wanted to prove the stars wrong. 

just this once, you wanted to know that you deserved good things too.

after a long moment of drifting between the sickness in your mind that had been infecting  your thoughts, you eventually cried yourself to sleep. it was something you hadn’t done in years, but when you woke up, you almost felt better.

you dragged yourself out of bed and slipped on your house shoes, trudging downstairs while mumbling prayers about how you hoped you wouldn’t bump into your mother. you knew she would give you an earful about earlier. 

to your surprise, rather than your mother, sunghoon was in the kitchen. he turned when he heard your heavy footsteps. “hey, doll,” he said, shutting the refrigerator.

you grumbled a response and waved weakly, moving past the island so that you could join him near the refrigerator. you would have opened it yourself, but sunghoon beat you to it, handing you a water.

when your eyes widened a little in surprise, sunghoon snickered and asked, “what else do you drink?”

he had a good point there. it was rare you drank anything but water in the house, not that you had a specific reason for it. it was just a habit you hadn’t broken. “and what if i was hungry?” you asked playfully, accepting the water from his hands.

“you wouldn’t have touched the refrigerator, because you always get everything delivered.”

you gasped in mock offense. “hey, i cook sometimes!”

sunghoon chuckled. “yes, you do, doll. but i know not to expect you to cook anything if you look like you just crawled out of bed.”

you hummed, sitting down at the island and twisting the cap off the water. you didn’t realize how long you had been asleep, but it had to have been a while if sunghoon was home. 

sunghoon followed you, sitting beside you. he didn’t say anything for a minute, wanting to carefully think over his words so that they came out as intended. “i went up to your room earlier to talk to you about something, but you were sleeping, so i left you alone.”

you glanced over at him, finishing your swig before you asked, “talk about what?”

“your mother wants me to address your… disobedience, as she puts it,” sunghoon started levelly. 

you sighed, slamming your head against the counter. of course, she did. “i guess she told you jake was here earlier?”

“she did.”

you were almost certain that that woman just didn’t want you to breathe. she had been able to control you less and less over the years, and the more you resisted, the more determined she seemed. like mother, like daughter. “well, it’s your house. if you don’t want me to have boys over, then fine, i respect that. but she doesn’t have the right to police me.”

“it’s not just the boy,” sunghoon replied, although he had his own set of grievances about that. “she feels like you’re becoming rebellious in general.”

you almost rolled your eyes. “and why couldn’t she tell me that herself?”

sighing, sunghoon said, “because she pointed out that you only seem to listen to me, not her.”

“yeah, because it’s surprising i’m more inclined to obey someone who knows how to have an actual conversation than someone who just wants to yell and doesn’t care to hear me,” you retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “daddy, she’s been trying to control my life since forever. i’m sick of it.”

“i know how you feel, doll, but you haven’t exactly been making smart choices lately, either,” sunghoon answered gently, resting a hand on your knee. “like your boyfriend, for example.”

“i told you, i don’t like him.”

sunghoon didn’t skip a beat. “and i asked you, why are you dating him, then?”

“god, you just don’t get it,” you grumbled, opening your water bottle to take another large gulp.  

“then, explain it to me,” sunghoon said gently, eyes meeting yours with a reservoir of adoration. “make me get it. i’m here to listen to you, baby girl. i want to understand you, but i can’t do that if you don’t let me in.”

but you couldn’t let him in, not that far, because then he would see something that startled him. it was easier to break your own heart over and over than it was to risk his opinion of you changing, all for some closure. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

sunghoon heaved a breath. he absolutely despised when you froze him out. he wasn’t stupid; he noticed that you were only this less forthcoming when it came to the topic of your boyfriend that he couldn’t understand for the life of him why you kept seeing. every time he thought he’d had a productive conversation with you about him, sunghoon heard something else about that boy.

something more infuriating than the last.

you stood up from the barstool, an idle box of cereal on top of the refrigerator catching your eye as you did, and you remembered the dream you’d had about him that inspired everything to happen today. “i love you, daddy,” you whispered, throwing your arms around him. “thank you for trying.”

“i’ll always try,” sunghoon told you, voice featherlight.

you believed him, you truly did, but it hurt to think that he was the only man that would ever say that to you and mean it. “i know.”

sunghoon placed a hand on his shoulder before you could leave, hoping to get one more sentence in. “i know it’s not easy for you, doll, but can you try to appease your mother every now and then? for me?”

you stifled a sigh, nodding your head. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do, daddy,” you murmured.

sunghoon smiled softly and pat your shoulder.

for the next couple of days, you pathetically waited by your phone, hoping to hear from jake again. normally, he would text you the day or two after an unresolved argument, apologizing profusely until you gave him a satisfactory answer.

or in other words, until you forgave him. but on the third day, you knew something was wrong. you hadn’t even argued, and yet he was ignoring your existence as if you had committed the most unjustifiable crime against humanity ever recorded.

this is really it, you thought fretfully, heart swelling with dread. he doesn’t want me anymore.

you tried to act like it didn’t hurt, like he didn’t wield this immense power over you, but you knew you were lying to yourself. and that jake had lied to you. he had said that you could never disappoint him, after all, but you were fairly certain that ship had sailed.

it was half past noon when you noticed a notification on your phone from one of your friends, an attachment with a text that read, hey, did you break up with jake? just asking because someone sent me a photo of him kissing another girl yesterday night.

surely enough, the attached image was of jake swallowing some other girl’s face, blurry in quality, but you knew your boyfriend’s face when you saw it. he had his hands round her waist, holding her close exactly like how he’d held you, only it seemed like it’d been so long since he’d touched you like that.

only one minute ago, you had been convinced that you had no more tears left to cry. staring at the image, pieces of your wounded heart dropping heavily to your stomach, you didn’t realize you were crying until the phone went black by itself and you faintly saw your reflection in its screen, mirroring you.

whatever had happened between you and jake the other day, you didn’t consider it a breakup. it was your understanding that you were still together, given that he hadn’t necessarily said something to indicate the opposite. maybe you were mistaken, but that didn’t make it feel like anything less of a betrayal.

but to call it a betrayal implied some level of trust, a level deeper than you thought you had possessed. your feelings for jake were complicated, but you knew that you had trusted him not to stab you in the back the second it was turned. you had trusted him to take care of you, to protect you. you had trusted him not to hurt you.

now that you thought about it, you weren’t sure why. the past couple of weeks alone had been hell, his advances becoming more frequent than ever now that you had turned eighteen, and he had always shown signs of wavering. but you ignored them. you were desperate to fill the void left behind by every man you’d ever loved.

torn from head to toe with the sting of emotion, you pushed open your bedroom door and went straight for your parents room. fortunately, it was empty, neither of them home to watch you sulk; the last thing you wanted was for your stepfather to see you sobbing over a boy he hated, and for your mother to say that she told she so.

the first place you touched was the closet, where you knew sunghoon kept his hoodies. you missed him. you missed him in ways you’d never genuinely known him, or felt him, or possessed him. perhaps it would have made more sense to say that you longed for him, but in your heart, those moments you’d dreamt of felt real sometimes.

taking one of his cozy, black hoodies down from where they hung, you hurriedly threw it on, quickly engulfed by its size. it was comforting. the smell was, too. if you closed your eyes, you could pretend that sunghoon was there, holding you in his arms and whispering in your ear that everything would be okay in the end.

you pinched the loose material of the hoodie that was dropping around your body as you sat on the floor and held it to your nose, eyes fluttering closed. he had been wearing it around the house a lot lately. you were very fond of the way he smelled. it was heavenly and masculine, but also safe and familiar.

it was uniquely his own, and, breathing in the scent of sunghoon, you exhaled calmly, pretending that he could want you.

his scent had another effect on you, too. it made you feral, to say the least. though you were mostly used to it, when you saw him for the first time after a while, it made you feel like a ferocious animal, hungry with lust and ready to pounce.

for a moment, you tried to be stronger. you tried to pull yourself together and remind yourself that this man was your stepfather, the man who was married to your mother. but the shame could only contend with the gravity of want for so long until one finally emerged triumphant.

you pulled the hoodie over your head and stared at it for a second, like you were giving yourself one final chance to not do something you’d regret, but lust prevailed over reason.

with nothing to hold you back, you wiggled out of your favorite pair of tiny house shorts, temporarily tossing them aside. you grabbed a hold of the hoodie and bunched it into shape between your thighs, slowly rocking your hips into it.

your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to think of something that would help get you off, every thought you were capable of developing revolving around your stepfather. what most of them had in common, however, was the vivid picture of sunghoon on top of you, weight crushing you hard as he rutted into you nice and deep.

it was too arousing to think about, what he would feel like buried so many inches deep inside you, face tensing as he fucked you with total abandon. you wanted him to lose self restraint, to whisper in your ear that he loved you, that he wanted you, that he needed you. and only you.

your needy hips moved faster. the muscles in your thighs were spasming, your whole body alive with the sparks of desire that were killing you slowly. breathy pants escaped your mouth, your jaw slacking as your body worked harder to exhale. you couldn’t breathe through the thick, muddled haze of your uncontrollable hunger.

how could you? the mere sight of sunghoon made your heart hammer sometimes, because it knew what it wanted. your entire body, at this point, knew what it wanted, but more importantly, it knew what it needed. you couldn’t shake the idea that sunghoon was good for you. that he was meant for you.

maybe thinking of sunghoon as some exquisite gift sent from the gods as a reward for enduring so much in so little time, rather than a titillating manifestation of everything you wanted but could never have, was merely an extreme sign of desperate coping, but you couldn’t help yourself. you deserved him, more than your mother ever would.

you could make him feel so good, if he only gave you the chance. if he only let loose for a moment and let himself indulge in the wonders between your legs that called out for him and sang his name. you didn’t know what you were thinking, almost letting another man claim what was so surely his, even if he didn’t know it yet.

one of your hands pushed up your skirt and you squeezed your breasts, imagining it was sunghoon’s bigger, stronger hand instead. your hips were now moving with a mind of their own, rough pants getting louder, and you thought of sunghoon touching you with just as much fervor and need. it felt more like you were hoping.

the heat in your core finally reached its peak and you orgasmed with a shaky moan, trying to milk the high for all it was worth, but the relief disappeared just as quickly as it had come. you sighed, hole throbbing emptily, and you inspected the hoodie for any signs of your arousal leaking through your underwear.

you pushed it aside and lied down on the floor, catching your breath as you tried to shake the guilt. you hated how much of a slave you were to this insatiable need, sinning in return for only a fleeting second of relief. but more than that, you hated settling. if you had it your way, sunghoon would have been fucking you every night.

the thought made your thighs clench against each other. sometimes, you foolishly hoped sunghoon would come into your room at night and ravage you in your sleep, fucking you awake. you knew he was so tired when he came home from work. he deserved to come home to a young, tight hole. and he deserved to use it whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

knees kicking up, your eyes shifted underneath your parents’ bed, and you noticed something hidden underneath. your curiosity got the better of you and you reached out to grab it. a tiny box came into your hands, and for a moment, you just looked at it, wondering what was inside.

there was no better way to find out than having a look yourself. you figured it was sunghoon’s, given that it was on his side of the bed, and that knowledge only made you want to open it more; you were itching to know everything about him.

your brows furrowed when you opened the box. the first thing you saw was a picture of a teenaged girl, maybe about thirteen or fourteen. you were confused about why he had it, but there were more pictures stacked beneath. the more you glanced through them, the more you realized she looked a little too much like sunghoon.

those cute, deep dimples, his deep, honey eyes, and his peachy, plump lips. you gasped, coming to only one reasonable conclusion: this was his daughter. but if true, why had you never seen her, or heard him speak about her?

you had to assume that he loved her. for one, he was keeping pictures and belongings of her beneath his bed. other than the photos, you saw a necklace with an initial that wasn’t his own, a charm bracelet, a bottle of feminine perfume and other items. a part of you felt like this was something you weren’t supposed to see, and out of respect, you put everything back just as you had found it and slid the box underneath the bed.

it felt like a violation of privacy and there was a pang of regret in your chest, but you couldn’t help but have questions. though sunghoon would be coming home later than usual tonight, so even if you somehow mustered the courage to ask him, it would be a while before you got the opportunity.

you reached out to grab your shorts and put them back on. the only thing left for you to take care of was sunghoon’s hoodie, which you weren’t sure what to do with. you could have put it back as if nothing had ever happened, but you would have felt bad if you didn’t wash it.

so, you did. mostly everything you did from that point on was to distract yourself from thinking about sunghoon. every now and then, you remembered what had happened with jake and there was a throbbing ache in your chest, but you pushed the thoughts away. 

it was easier to think about sunghoon, to wonder how many things you really knew about him, this man that had taken on the role of father for the past five years of your life. after all, it was never him coming to you for advice on life, but you supposed that made sense. he was older than you, had gone through many of the things you were experiencing for the first time, and had the benefit of hindsight.

still, you were curious about him and the many years that had shaped him into the person he was now. were they kind? every person had their fair share of hardships and encounters with adversity, at least in some fashion, but you hoped he’d had it relatively easy. you knew what it was like to suffer and you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy, much less him.

the efforts to distract yourself went on for so long that you even ended up making dinner, considering that your mother wasn’t home for whatever reason and you figured sunghoon would be hungry when he came back; you were hungry, and you hadn’t even done anything but think about him excessively.

like clockwork, sunghoon came in through the foyer and went to the kitchen, spotting you putting the finishing touches on dinner. “you’re cooking?”

you laughed at his surprise and nodded your head, turning off the stove. “i’m basically finished now,” you chirped, donning oven mittens. “i told you, i cook sometimes.”

sunghoon leaned against the counter, watching you take a pan out of the oven. “smells good,” he commented, humming in approval. “is your mother home?”

“nope,” you replied, setting the pan down on the stove. you had no idea where she was, nor did you care as long as she was safe.

“mm.”

you turned around to face sunghoon, taking a deeper look at him. he looked tired, exhausted even. you knew he would always deny how bad it was, though. “hungry?”

sunghoon bobbed his head and set a hand on his stomach. “starving.”

you and sunghoon sat down at the table beside each other and ate dinner, talking in between bites. your heart warmed to see how delighted he was while eating, the smile on his face at the first spoonful putting one on yours. your relationship with your mother had always been strained, but you had to thank her for teaching you how to cook.

while you had contemplated bringing up what you had seen earlier during dinner, every time you tried willing yourself to mention it to sunghoon, you got nervous and didn’t follow through. it wasn’t like it was something you were supposed to know about and you knew that by mentioning it, you would be telling on yourself.

not only that, but you didn’t know how sunghoon would feel about telling you about it, or if he would even want to talk about it. the last thing you wanted to do was overstep your boundaries, which was something you probably had already done the second you went into his bedroom and pried into his personal belongings.

after the dishes were washed, something sunghoon volunteered to help you take care of, you followed him into the living room where he usually went to relax after work. you managed to stay quiet for all of fifteen minutes before the guilt overwhelmed you and you apologized, “i’m sorry.”

sunghoon turned his attention way from the television to look at you, brows furrowing. “for what?”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. you could have gotten away with it, but it didn’t feel right not to mention. “i went into your room today.”

sunghoon didn’t mind you being in his bedroom, but it was unusual that you were there when you had your own. “why?”

you smiled anxiously, fidgeting with your hands. that was the important part. you left out what you had done with the hoodie, deciding he didn’t need to know that. “i just did,” you replied, your voice quiet. “but that’s not the part i’m apologizing for. i saw something under your bed. and, i looked through it.”

sunghoon’s face changed, something more melancholy tensing his features. “oh.”

“i’m sorry,” you repeated, faint. the look on his face made you feel even more guilty than you already had.

sunghoon pat the top of your head, as if he knew that you needed the reassurance. “it’s okay,” he said, smiling thinly. “i guess you have questions now, don’t you?”

you nodded reluctantly. those questions were essentially all you had thought about it since you discovered that box underneath his bed. “i do, but… you don’t need to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“it’s alright,” sunghoon replied, exhaling. that shroud of melancholy was still hanging over him. “she was my daughter.”

your heart stopped. “…was?”

for a moment, sunghoon was silent and he didn’t immediately respond. you wondered if you had said the wrong thing, overthinking everything you were doing. he exhaled yet another breath and replied, “she passed away six years ago. car accident.”

that explained everything, but now you felt worse than you had before and it was killing you. “daddy…”

it looked like it pained him to talk about it, but he did it anyway. “i was married before i met your mother,” he explained. “everything was good. we had a few problems, but hey, no marriage is completely perfect. my ex-wife took our daughter out and they were coming back home when they got into a car accident. she wasn’t paying attention. she lived; our daughter didn’t.”

you were silent. you didn’t know what to say.

tensing a little, sunghoon continued, “we had a divorce because i blamed her, and i couldn’t stand to be around her anymore. i don’t think i can ever forgive her for being so reckless.”

“i wish that never happened to you, daddy. you didn’t deserve that,” you said compassionately.

“you lost someone, too.”

the thought of your father left a sour taste, and to be frank, you never wanted to think about him again. “yeah, my dad left me, but at least the bastard’s still alive. if i wanted to talk to him, i could. but you don’t have that option.”

sunghoon’s eyes flitted over you and he reached out to push your hair out of your face. “that’s why i want to protect you, doll. you mean more to me than you will ever know.”

there your heart went again, acting a fool at the smallest words and actions. “you mean a lot to me, too.”

after much internal wavering, sunghoon reluctantly confessed, “i was never going to tell you this, but when i met your mother, part of what i liked about her was that she had a daughter. just a year younger than my daughter would be. and i wanted her back. i wanted her back so badly. so to me, it felt like god was giving me a second chance.”

your eyes flickered. you had always wondered what it was he liked about your mother in the first place. they made a strange pair; he seemed so different from her type, and his personality was much softer than hers. “really?”

“that’s why i tried so hard in the beginning to grow on you. even though it couldn’t have been more obvious that you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he told you lightheartedly. 

you giggled, remembering how much you had been against your mother getting married to this man you barely knew. “you’re a great father,” you whispered. “thank you for not giving up halfway.”

“i’ll never give up on you.”

you were beaming. “i know.”

this conversation had taken a different direction than you had initially expected, but ultimately, you were happy with it. you had been so afraid of him getting upset with you, and though it would have been justified, you knew rationally that it just wasn’t in his nature.

at least, not when it came to you. you had noticed the anger bristling within him when he spoke of the mother of his child; it made you angry on his behalf. but even then, sunghoon’s anger was nothing like the kind you had grown up surrounded with. it wasn’t loud, aggressive, or dangerous. it was quiet, composed, restrained. 

much like the rest of him.

in the time that you had spent thinking about sunghoon’s life and all the secrets it contained, you had figured something out about yourself. “i’m going to break up with jake,” you announced.

though he didn’t expect the topic change, sunghoon couldn’t hide his relief. “what took you so long?”

you chuckled, because that was a good question, to be fair. “well, for one, at least to my knowledge, he hadn’t cheated on me until now,” you retorted.

the anger was back, only this time, you swore it had a more hostile air to it than ever. “he did what?” sunghoon exclaimed.

you shrugged your shoulders. it wasn’t that it didn’t bother you, because it did. come to think about it, it mostly hurt because you would have never done the same thing to him, no matter how much you lusted after your stepfather. 

taking a deep, frustrated breath, you explained, “yeah. long story short, when he came over the other day, it was because i had agreed to have sex with him. but when he saw my room for the first time, he basically called me childish and said he wasn’t doing it there. then he marched out.”

sunghoon shook his head, but he wasn’t surprised. at least you had enough self-respect to end it now. he was starting to become afraid that he would need to shake some sense into you.

jake had served a purpose. he was unbelievably handsome, undoubtedly smart, and told you everything that you wanted to hear. he distracted you from what you were really after, and in return, you ignored what he was really after.

there was a large part of you that felt ashamed for lying to yourself for so long. but now you were being honest. you owed yourself that much. “i was so stupid. part of the reason i didn’t want to have sex with him was because i wanted him to stay, and i wasn’t sure if he would still choose me afterwards. i was scared he would get what he wanted and leave. but the reason i agreed to have sex with him was because i could feel him getting bored and pulling away. and in the end, he left me anyway.”

you had already decided you weren’t going to hold it against him, because you were both guilty of something. you had lied to each other, taken advantage of each other, and bled dry each other. both of you had tried to force something that was never really there. you would never forgive him for cheating, but you could understand him leaving.

sunghoon listened intently, watching your face as you talked about your relationship and what went wrong. he picked out his words, not wanting to be blinded by his lack of disappointment. “you’re not stupid for wanting someone to like you.”

your eyes met his. i want you to like me, you thought to yourself, wishful. “am i stupid for staying even though i knew deep down that it wasn’t really me that he liked?”

“no, doll,” sunghoon replied gently, bracing a hand on your knee. “you’re just disillusioned.”

you chuckled. “you sure you’re not just saying that?”

sunghoon squeezed your knee, giving you comfort that he knew you needed. it would be complicated, you already knew, coping with your feelings for him now that you wouldn’t have jake’s shenanigans to distract you. not that they really ever helped. “you’re young. even your mind has a mind of its own. i think it’s only stupid if you make the same mistake twice.”

you hummed, knowing that that probably wouldn’t be happening. you weren’t the type of person to jump from relationship to relationship. you were too afraid of abandonment for that. you could only handle so many of them before you snapped.

as sunghoon looked at you, he couldn’t help but feel guilty, thinking maybe he should have done more to keep you safe from a boy like that. but you were an adult now, and he was trying to give you the space to take care of yourself on your own. “did you ever really like jake?” he asked after a pause. 

“i think i just liked feeling wanted,” you murmured, ashamed of your own stupidity.

sunghoon let that sink in. he knew you had been dealing with certain insecurities for years, and the thought that he still had yet been able to help you made him feel worthless. “what kind of boyfriend do you want?”

there was a lull of silence as you thought about it thoroughly. you had liked jake because you thought he could be everything you should have wanted, but he wasn’t necessarily your type. “someone who’s tender,” you decided, something jake selectively was. “someone who’s assertive, protective, and takes care of me.”

“mm.”

your heart was racing, but somehow you found the courage to add, “someone like you.”

sunghoon tried to rationalize that, he truly did. in his mind, the idea of wanting someone who embodied the traits of a strong father figure was a perfectly normal desire. but he wasn’t an idiot, and he could hear everything you didn’t say, and recognize the sudden change in your body language.

because you didn’t want a boyfriend; you wanted a father.

sighing, sunghoon relaxes his eyes for a second before he opens them again, taking in how fragile you appear and feel beneath his heavy hands. “doll, you’re my daughter.”

“stepdaughter,” you corrected in a heartbeat.

sunghoon ignored you, continuing, “and you’re so young.”

“i’m eighteen,” you replied, heart thudding so fast you couldn’t stay still. “i’m an adult.”

sunghoon didn’t seem pleased, or convinced for that matter. it was as you feared; he would always see you as this little girl that needed saving. “you may legally be an adult,” sunghoon started, quiet. “but mentally, you are still a little girl.”

that stung. you never knew sunghoon was capable of it until now, but he had really burned you with such few words. your eyes even burned with the threat of tears. “if that’s how you feel,” you murmured, standing up from the sofa.

sunghoon softened, immediately regretting having ever said anything. “doll, wait.”

you didn’t, making a beeline straight for the stairs. you weren’t sure what you were expecting. he thought of himself as your father and he was married to your mother. why would he see you like that?

why did you see him like that?

to make matters worse, sunghoon didn’t follow you. you didn’t turn around, but the lack of footsteps behind you wasn’t lost on your ears. pretending it didn’t bother you, you went to your bedroom, shut the door, and dropped on your bed.

maybe you should have been grateful that your biggest problem in life was unreciprocated feelings. you knew there were all too many things you had to be grateful for, especially things sunghoon provided for you, like education and a nice home and fatherly love. there was no good reason to expect more than that from him. maybe you were just greedy.

or maybe you were needy. at worst, you were a little bit of both, but that wasn’t completely your fault. when bred from incompetence and instability, no one could rationally expect anything but insanity. if no one had ever given you a fair chance at normalcy, then no one could expect you to know how to reinvent yourself into something ordinary.

it was just so exhausting to be continuously rejected, because you were too this or not enough of that. you never knew how to be what anyone wanted. you never knew how to make anyone stay. just once, you wanted someone to care for you the same way you cared about them, and nothing less.

just when you were beginning to accept that you were hopeless, there was a knock on your door. wiping at your eyes, you reluctantly called out, “it’s open.”

sunghoon came in, shutting the door behind him, heart clenching in his chest when he noticed your reddening eyes. “calm down yet?” he asked.

you shrugged your shoulders, but murmured, “i don’t know if i’ll ever calm down.”

he could tell that you didn’t just mean the exchange downstairs; no, whatever storm was raging and rushing within you unbeknownst to him, it was only festering. “i try not to say the wrong things,” sunghoon said, slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of your bed.

you knew that. it was something you had come to like about him. he was careful, loving. it was never his intention to hurt anyone. but he was only human, and humans made mistakes and had lapses in judgment. “maybe you weren’t wrong. maybe i’m just immature.”

“maybe a little bit,” sunghoon told you, frank, but lighthearted. “but i could have said it a little better.”

you rolled your eyes, almost feeling better already. but the faint echo in your heart had yet to cease. “you don’t need to sugarcoat everything for me all the time, you know.”

sunghoon hummed. you were saying that, but he knew that he could break you into pieces if he wanted. tinier, more insignificant pieces than the ones you already were broken into. but he wouldn’t. he was realizing the full scope of power he wielded over you, and now that he knew, he wanted to be cautious. “i think i understand you now.”

your eyes leapt up to his face, almost like you were begging for that to be true. “what do you mean?”

“why you do the things you do,” sunghoon continued, dabbing at a tear that had fallen down your cheeks. “you don’t want a boyfriend. you want a father.”

saying nothing, you fidgeted with your thumbs and held your breath. you weren’t used to having your heart laid flat on the table.

sunghoon stopped you, setting his palm on the back of your hand. “you want me,” he said, making you wish you could disappear. “and that’s why you kept saying that you didn’t really want jake, but never explained to me why you kept dating.”

you leaned your head on his shoulder. “i love you so much, daddy.”

sunghoon’s heart was pounding in ways it hadn’t in a long time. “i know you do, baby girl. but you know that this isn’t right.”

“i don’t care.”

sunghoon sighed. “i’ve known you since you were thirteen, doll.”

“so? am i thirteen right now?”

“no, but you’re barely legal.”

“i’m legal. you don’t need to put unnecessary adverbs in front of it. i’m not some kid, daddy.”

there was no doubt that sunghoon was trying to change your mind, hoping to say something that would make you realize how foolish this was. too bad for him, you were too far gone. “your mother…,” he started. 

“i don’t care,” you repeated a little harsher. “you told me yourself, you basically married her for me. and all she does is leech off you. i know it and you know it. we don’t even know where she is right now. say that you love her more than you love me, say it!”

“i don’t like your tone right now, doll,” sunghoon told you, stern, but level. 

obeying the silent command in his voice, you quietened, murmuring, “i’m sorry, daddy.”

sunghoon sighed, stuck between a rock and a hard place. he put a hand on your thigh. “but you’re right. i do love you more.”

“then, prove it,” you whispered, inviting him. daring him. prove that you love me. prove that you’re just as sick as i am. prove to me that i have you in every way, that i’m not alone.

sunghoon knew that he shouldn’t. he was considering everything you had failed to acknowledge - your mother, his marriage, proper morality, and the fate of his relationship with you. but where he had been ignorant to your fermenting feelings, he hadn’t failed to notice exactly how much you had grown up.

the way your body had matured. the way you’d began coordinating your signature scents into something that was indisputably yours. the way your taste in fashion had changed from fluffy, pink skirts to short ones that were one wrong move away from flashing your plush cheeks and the cute, thin fabric of your underwear clinging tightly onto your cunt it just hardly concealed.

sunghoon had, too, noticed, and been rather fond of, how you were usually the meekest thing in the world only for him. with enough conditioning, in a world that was darker, he could put a gun in your hand and turn you into his little obedient vixen. you just wanted to heal him, please him, satisfy him.

but it would be wrong. and sunghoon had once prided himself on the fact that he did everything right. he got the most compelling grades in school to prove that he had genuine smarts to pair with his wealth, he went to a top university and worked hard, he got a job straight after graduation, met who he thought was the perfect woman, married her, bought a opulent house with her, and had a beautiful daughter with her.

so what if he still had to repeat a couple of steps, and so what if he had messed up on a few? at least he didn’t mess up on you. the only thing he regretted when it came to you was not completely noticing, not doing more to keep you from struggling.

you were more than just a reclaim of what he had lost. sunghoon didn’t think of his first daughter when he thought of you, not anymore. with you getting older and growing into your own person, your own way of life, it was difficult to see her in you. so, he accepted you as your own person, and in turn, he let go.

but that fact didn’t make him feel any less guilty or conflicted. you were still his stepdaughter, and you trusted him to protect you. your mother trusted him to protect you. everybody trusted him to guide you, steer you, lead you.

looking into his brown, troubled eyes, you instantly knew what it meant. he needed some persuasion, something to hinder his overthinking.

“please,” you pleaded, resting a hand on his lower abdomen just as gingerly as the way he handled you in mind and in body. he was still in his work shirt, broad shoulders catching your eye as you succumbed to the urge to rub your smooth palms over them. 

look at you, begging him to fuck you. gazing up at him with those big, hopeful eyes with a shimmer that was so sweetly sparkling he almost mistook it as innocent. but he knew better. those were eyes that hoped for corruption, that sought comfort in destruction, and that were molded into the puppet of pain.

you lowered your hand again, stopping just shy of his crotch hidden by his work pants. fumbling with the fly, you looked into his eyes, searching for something. any indication that he was resisting. but you only saw him watching like even he didn’t know what he wanted.

it was surprising. you had been half expecting him to put his hand over yours and stop you, to remind you again that this was wrong and he didn’t see you how you saw him, but he just kept his eyes focused on you as if he was trying to see just how far you would go.

testing the waters, you undid his pants and went straight for his cock, the sound of a strained grunt making your cunt clench around emptiness. it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. you had imagined pulling those sounds out of sunghoon, closed your eyes and immersed yourself in a resewn fabric of another reality, but nothing measured up to hearing it for yourself.

sunghoon knew that things were rapidly approaching the point of no return and he groaned, “doll…”

“make me stop,” you whispered, gently wrapping your fingers around him and moving your hand in a relaxed motion. “make me stop, daddy.”

it wasn’t for lack of trying. sunghoon closed his eyes, wanting to will himself to be the rational person in the room since you had forwent reason entirely, but the second your small, supple hands tightened around his shaft, he knew he had failed.

he didn’t want you to stop. and you you didn’t want to stop, either.

you beamed victoriously, his silence being a telltale sign that he had succumbed to the same infectious wanting that had long plagued you. you moved your hand only a little faster, endeavoring to stroke him hard. it seemed that with every touch and movement of your wrist, his breathing was growing louder, more labored.

when he was fully hard, you had to suck in a gasp. you weren’t sure how you were going to fit every inch of him inside you, and the only thing that seemed clear was that you had your work cut out for you. nevertheless, you still wanted to make him feel good, so you glanced up at him and said sweetly, “tell me what to do. teach me, daddy.”

you caught a quiet, “fuck,” from underneath sunghoon’s breath as he heard what you had said, on the verge of losing his mind altogether, and it was doing unmistakable damage to his psyche. doing the right thing was no longer an option. all that was left was ache and need. without it, you didn’t know who you were.

releasing a shaky breath, sunghoon brushed his thumb against your bottom lip with affection and whispered, “take it in your mouth. go slow and gentle.”

you nodded your head obediently, opening your mouth just wide enough to fit his girth between your parted lips. the first inch was fine; the second inch had its complications, given that you hadn’t adjusted to the pressure of his cock in your mouth and breathing through your nose. by the third, you folded, withdrawing.

“i’m sorry,” you murmured, feeling like you should have at least been able to do that much.

sunghoon shook his head, smiling, and smoothed a hand through your hair. “that’s okay, baby,” he said, understanding. “try again.”

you sucked him into your mouth again, right between your lips, cheeks hollowed and everything, but for some odd reason, you couldn’t relax. you already felt like you were about to gag and it was only the first couple of inches. when you tried to take another, you had to pull back again.

there was a faint burning in the back of your throat. you didn’t even notice that a few tears had fallen from one of your eyes until you pulled your mouth off. you frowned, unable to shake the fear that you would disappoint him somehow if you couldn’t do it.

“you’re okay,” sunghoon reassured you, patting your head. “you’re okay, doll. i promise.”

with another nod, you decided to give it one more go, determined. not only because you wanted to prove yourself, but because you wanted to make him feel good. you couldn’t think of anyone that deserved it more than he did.

this time, sunghoon held your hair comfortably behind your head and caressed the strands as you tried to pleasure him once more, accepting what you could into your mouth bit by bit. you were less tense than before and it enabled you to concentrate on breathing and not overwhelming yourself too quickly.

afraid that you would gag again if you tried to take another inch, you decided to use your hand to take care of the remaining amount that wouldn’t fit. fortunately, it seemed to work; your mouth kept one part of him company, and your hands moved to prevent the other from becoming too neglected.

sunghoon moaned, curses falling here and there. you could feel the wetness soiling your underwear and he hadn’t even done anything yet. his voice was low and deep, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. minute by minute, you became more and more aware of how aroused you were, and your mind, friend and foe, tempted you with pictures of what it would be like to finally have sunghoon inside.

to your surprise, sunghoon cautiously pried you off his cock, making you look up at him and wonder if you had done something wrong, but all he said was, “i don’t want to come yet.”

your thighs squeezed together in excitement. if not now, then later. and if not in your mouth, then hopefully deep, deep inside.

“daddy,” you called out, somewhat timid. “are you gonna fuck me?”

sunghoon was maybe a few seconds away from short-circuiting and it was admirable that he hadn’t done so already, all things considered. he didn’t reply immediately, having to catch his breath. “do you want me to?”

“yes,” you replied in a heartbeat. 

the room felt hot, and sunghoon couldn’t tell if it was real or it was in his head. “say it.”

it was a little awkward for you to say it so bluntly, but given that you had come this far, you might as well. “i want you to fuck me, daddy.”

sunghoon grunted and said something that sounded like, “come here,” as he gingerly pulled you off your knees and back onto your mattress. before you even blinked, he was pressing his lips to yours, enveloping them in a sweet, fiery kiss. 

it felt like a daydream. maybe because you had dreamed of him before and this captured the exact floaty, cloudlike feeling of his arms cushioning your body in a dream, only the speeding thud in your heart making it undeniably real.

you couldn’t liken it to any kiss that you and jake had shared. while you would admit that jake was objectively a good kisser, almost everything you did together lacked passion; there was no spark behind even the most tender of touches. and yet somehow just being this close to sunghoon made your whole body scorch with the fever of suppressed want.

sunghoon slowly forced himself away and began to descend down your body, tugging your shorts down your thighs. heat filled your cheeks when his fingers hooked under your underwear next, but you raised your hips so that he could pull them off. what caught you by surprise, however, was when his tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh.

you gasped, a jolt making your body snap. “wait, daddy, you don’t need to. i’m already wet enough.”

that you were. sunghoon could see plain as day how your wet folds glistened with an arousal that had been building longer than he could ever imagine, gone ignored and neglected no longer. “i know,” he grunted out. “i want to.”

then without another word, sunghoon went to town. he started slow, gentle; his larger hands were firm on your plush thighs as he held them apart, almost as if he expected you to eventually resist him. for now, though, there was no need; he was tasting your devotion on his tongue, in no apparent hurry to let this moment end.

your breaths were becoming increasingly heavy, and a part of you still couldn’t believe that this was really happening - sunghoon was in between your legs, prepared to make you seen every star that hung in the night sky. you did what you could to commit the sight to memory, refusing to let it get away.

sunghoon wanted to see you unravel. you nearly died when he pressed his tongue deep inside you, abruptly tearing a sweet cry out of your mouth. the muscle wandered over your walls, savoring what he would feel soon enough. but for now, he was more than content to gather every bit of your arousal on the very tip of his tongue and make you feel sensations unimagined.

“god, you taste so good, baby,” sunghoon groaned, hands clamping tightly around your thighs. “so goddamn good.”

it was from that moment forward he lost control; his self-restraint broke; he was consumed with abandon. sunghoon licked and sucked at your bundle of nerves, drawing out more noises than before. your hips jerked as you laid sprawled out before him, entirely at his mercy. 

just the way you always wanted.

“does that feel good, baby?” sunghoon pulled away for the shortest second to ask. “do you want me to slow down?”

you shook your head, hands desperately fisting the sheets. “no, please. don’t slow down. down stop,” you begged. 

hearing you say that only made sunghoon harder, but he was still a man with some inhibitions if it meant drawing out the pleasure you felt at his hands. “just tell me if you need me to switch things up, okay?”

then he went back to work. this time he steadily worked two fingers into you, and you knew without a shred of doubt that you were positively ruined. they were long and thick, much more compared to yours; you would probably feel his cock for days to come.

you could feel yourself devolving into pure madness. sunghoon’s fingers were working you open at the same time his tongue flicked over your clit, and you could hardly keep still, your body convulsing every which way. if not for how tight his hands were around your trembling thighs, you wouldn’t have been able to keep them spread for him.

“daddy, please don’t stop. i think i’m gonna come,” you said between quick pants. 

“i know, baby girl. just relax for me.”

with every nerve in your body going haywire, you felt anything but relaxed. between your thudding heartbeat and the ecstasy shooting its way through your spine, your body was bursting at the seams with fervor. but you tried for him. you couldn’t think, at least. there was too much physical stimulation to allow for passing thoughts.

sunghoon only had only goal in mind and that was to make you feel nothing short of the absolute peak of pleasure. he could see what things your body was responding to best and he took advantage of every reaction you had to offer, twisting his tongue the way you so clearly loved.

you couldn’t handle it anymore, and something within you snapped; you cried out, back arching off your fluffy pink bed, jake and the stupid stuffed toys the furthest thing on your mind as warmth fluttered in your stomach.

“that’s it, doll,” sunghoon crooned. “you’re okay, baby. i promise. just let go.”

all the while, his fingers didn’t stop as he spoke. they kept moving as he assured you between gentle kisses to your thighs, almost as restless as your entire body was. “daddy,” you whimpered, thoroughly wrecked.

“i know,” sunghoon whispered, lips flush against your skin. “you did so good, doll. so good for me.”

sunghoon got up from his knees and draped himself over your body, leaning down to kiss you breathless. though you tried to ignore it, you could feel his hard cock pressing against you and just the feeling itself was mouthwatering.

“so perfect,” sunghoon murmured, pulling back to pepper kisses down your jaw. “did you really think daddy wasn’t gonna make sure his doll was taken care of?”

you had nothing to say, so you just watched him begin to peel off what was left of both of your clothes, piece by piece. when you completely naked, you noticed sunghoon’s unbudging eyes stuck to your figure. “do you think i’m pretty, daddy?” you asked with a smile. 

“pretty?” he murmured, brows stitched in amazement. “you’re… you’re beautiful, doll. don’t you forget it.”

you wanted to hear him say that a thousand times over.

even as sunghoon moved to reposition himself between your legs, you could hardly believe that this was actually - genuinely - happening. but every touch of his body had felt so real, and you’d dreamed of moments like this enough to know the difference. giving you one last chance to back out, sunghoon asked, “are you sure you want to do this, baby?”

“please,” you begged. the brushing of his tip against your slick folds made your mouth run dry. “i need it. i need you.”

that was all it took for sunghoon to push inside you, slow and steady as ever. you sucked in a breath, your hands already clenching the sheets again as he coaxed the head of his cock deeper inside your sticky cunt.

“oh my god,” you gasped out. 

sunghoon chuckled. “i’m barely inside you, baby.”

you knew that, but the feeling of him inside you even this far was enough to make your mind unravel. you’d imagined that it would be a tight fit, but despite him preparing you to take him, that seemed like an understatement. though you were nothing if not purely determined. you would take all of him, no matter how long it took.

sunghoon’s brows furrowed the deeper he sunk into you, his jaw slacked. “god, you’re so tight,” he murmured. to sunghoon, this was the moment that cemented everything into reality, the moment that made everything true. the tight, wet feel of you stretching around his cock as he moved deeper and deeper was too insane to be imagined even if he tried. and he had tried.

your chest and core fluttered at the compliment. you enjoyed the praise. knowing that you were satisfying him, that you were pleasuring him the way he was pleasuring you, was something that filled you with an immense sense of accomplishment. there was nothing you wanted more than to serve him, than to be his girl.

sunghoon took his time, still hardly moving. every time he heard you abruptly suck in a gasp, his hips ground to a stop, wanting to give you time to adjust. he knew better than anyone that he wasn’t lacking in the size category, and the last thing he wanted was to make his sweet girl’s first time uncomfortable. for the right reasons, he wanted to give you a time to remember.

“do you need a minute, doll?” he asked, one brow lifted as he glanced down at you.

you shook your head. “no, it’s okay. you can keep going.”

“you sure?” he pressed. it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t dying to move even deeper, but not at your expense.

not to mention that your mother probably wouldn’t return until after midnight, but that was another conversation.

“i’m sure, daddy,” you replied, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. you didn’t want him to look away. “don’t stop.”

“fuck,” sunghoon groaned. you watched his lips part with the noise and felt his cock become buried further inside your cunt, working you open for him. he was taking his sweet time, because you both knew that if he was going to destroy you, he was going to make every second of it count.

“daddy, are you almost done?” you asked quietly. 

“halfway, babe,” sunghoon told you.

you gawked. “halfway?”

sunghoon shushed you with a kiss, pushing himself yet another inch within your heat. he couldn’t wrap his mind around how perfect you felt around his cock and he wasn’t even fully seated inside you yet. you tried to focus on the way his lips moved against yours, but not even that could distract you from how he was stretching you out beyond belief.

“daddy, you’re so big,” you whined. 

“i know, baby girl,” sunghoon replied softly, a hint of guilt on his face. “almost there, i promise. does it hurt?”

“a little bit,” you admitted. “but i can take it.”

sunghoon swept his finger over your bottom lip. “you sure, baby?”

you nodded your head. for him, you were convinced that you could do anything. and on top of that, there were no bounds to the things that you would do for him.

when sunghoon’s length had finally penetrated you to the very end, he stilled again, giving you a moment to recover before he started. it felt like an eternity before he actually moved, but when you gave him a nod of approval, he slowly drew back and penetrated you again. you were at a lost for words. nothing had ever been inside you that deeply. there were your fingers and maybe a hair brush, but neither rivaled the depth of your stepfather’s thick cock as he began to take you like you were his. 

because you were.

“jesus christ,” sunghoon hissed. “you feel so good, doll. do you know that?”

“you feel good too,” you stammered out.

sunghoon took that as a sign that he was doing everything right, which was more than enough for him to relax. his mind was reeling. the mere wet sound of your skin meeting was making him lose control, and that was to say nothing of your pretty moans. the way you desperately called out for him was almost too much to bear.

you reciprocated his feelings. with every deep, guttural grunt that escaped sunghoon��s mouth, your body was less and less yours. he owned you, head to toe, inside out. you were more than prepared to surrender everything to him, to let him claim all that you were. because you relied on him. you needed him. and little did you know, in some twisted way, he needed you even more.

sunghoon’s hands were balled at your sides, clenching the sheets fiercely. he dreaded hurting you, but imagine his surprise when you grabbed a hold of his hands and redirected them to your perfect hips. “you can hold me, daddy,” you reassured him. “please. i won’t break.”

and even if you did, you were willing to let him put you back together. sunghoon could feel whatever remained of his restraint crumbling into pieces, and he held your hips in his palms tightly, his eyes boring into yours. his gaze, as relentless as it was, wasn’t challenging; it was piercing, loving, understanding. he saw you, he knew you, because you were familiar. you were what kept him whole.

something made sunghoon hold you even tighter. there was a thought that struck him. you needed him to take care of you, to depend upon, to guide you. and he needed you to bring back a purpose which was unfairly stolen from him. he knew it was wrong, that it was sick, but it couldn’t be helped. you had become everything to him, and there was no way in hell he was going to let that go.

“i need you,” he panted, his hips keeping a comfortable pace that you seemed to enjoy, judging from how you continued to throb and moan. “i need you so much, doll. you don’t understand.”

you shook your head, arms wrapped around his neck. you wanted to be inseparably close. “i do understand, daddy,” you insisted. “i need you too.”

sunghoon felt heat surging through his stomach. he said your name. “i love you.”

your lips curled into a smile. your body shook with rapture, so much that you thought you could cry. “i love you too, daddy. i love you so much. i’d let you have me whenever. i’m yours and i wanna take care of you.”

“mine?” sunghoon repeated, so quietly it could have gone unheard if not for how close his face was to yours.

you nodded your head. 

sunghoon prodded, “all mine? and not that stupid little boy you call a boyfriend?”

the mere mention of jake made you feel disgust and you knew that you were over him, for good. “won’t see him anymore, daddy. i promise. i never wanted him. i always really just wanted you.”

sunghoon didn’t even bother willing himself to keep calm after he heard you say that. he was insane about you and he didn’t care to hide it anymore. “always?” he repeated.

you hummed. “the first time i came was on that bunny rabbit right there.” you turned your head to gesture towards the stuffed animal.

sunghoon saw it and his eyes darkened as he pictured you mounting the poor bunny, grinding your hips against it as you wished and hoped and prayed it’d soon enough be him bringing you pleasure. he wondered exactly how many times you had used it. how many times you had thought of him.

you cried out as his hips began slap against yours faster, but you took it. sunghoon wasn’t particularly rough, but each thrust drove you closer to insanity than the last. wrapping your legs around your waist, you drew him closer, your arms around his neck and his big hands firm at your hips. “fuck,” you stammered.

“you think about me a lot?” sunghoon asked. 

you nodded your head eagerly. “yes, all the time!”

sunghoon was unrelenting. he lowered his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, before he let it fall and pressed, “how much do you think about me?”

“every day,” you told him honestly. “there’s not one day… where i don’t.”

“every day?” sunghoon repeated. “you think about me fucking you every day?”

“sometimes i dream about it,” you confessed.

sunghoon groaned. he had dreamed of you too. he had constantly tried not to think about you in that light, but he couldn’t help what he dreamed of. “i dream about you too,” he whispered. “of making love to you and fucking you full of my cum. will you let me, doll?”

“yes,” you answered him without a second of hesitation. “please, daddy. come inside me!”

sunghoon almost came just from hearing those words, but he couldn’t yet. not before he felt you tighten around his cock with climax. removing his hand from his hip, he began to toy with your sensitive clit, eager and desperate to make you come, to see you come, to feel you come.

your body arched into his hand, knowing who its owner was and willing to submit to his every whim. it felt like your mind was floating somewhere between earth and heaven, lost in space where there was no life, no time. only infinity.

it wasn’t long before your vision brightened white and you swore you could see every star. your legs tightened their grip around his waist as you shuddered with ecstasy, and your mouth hung open as you moaned.

“that’s it,” sunghoon crooned. “good girl. you’re amazing, doll.”

you stilled after a moment, sated. 

the sensation of your cunt gushing tightly around him as you orgasmed made sunghoon moan himself, and you listened to the sounds of your heat kneading his cock as he used your cunt to push himself to the end. it had felt so good to you too; having something to grip on as you came made the experience all that much better.

“come for me, daddy,” you said, trying to coax the orgasm out of him. “come inside your doll… i need it.”

that did it. hearing you referring to yourself as his doll sent him completely over the edge and you gasped out loud when you felt sunghoon dumping his thick, sticky hot load into your cunt with the deepest grunt of your name. it was so good, so warm. you held eye contact with him the entire time, not once daring to look away even as his hips slowed to a stop.

for a long moment, you both simply lay there in each other’s arms, neither of you wanting to move when you were this close. but you did pull him in for another heated kiss, because you couldn’t think of another way to somehow bring yourself even closer. sunghoon kissed you back passionately, holding your body against his protectively, almost as if he was afraid you’d be taken from him too.

you thought nothing could ruin the moment. then, out of the blue, your phone rang. you and sunghoon both let out a collective sigh of exasperation and you withdrew to peak at your phone on your nightstand, wholeheartedly expecting it to be your mother.

your eyes went wide when you saw that it was jake.

and you wouldn’t have answered it, but you needed to call it quits anyway. though you initially planned to meet him in person, in that moment, you decided he didn’t deserve to see you again in his life. “hello?” you answered.

“baby, you picked up,” jake said, sounding amazed. “listen to me, baby. i’m so sorry i haven’t been answering your calls. i just needed some space, you understand that, right?”

before he could utter another word, the phone was abruptly snatched from your hands. “don’t call my daughter again, or i swear to god, i will find you, and then i will fuck you up,” sunghoon hissed. 

he hung up without another word and tossed the phone to the side.

you gawked at his words, but you both felt the way you’d throbbed. “daddy!”

“quiet,” sunghoon said, withdrawing from inside you. “now show me what you did to the bunny.”

[hoonharem]

park sunghoon — you wanted my attention? then take it

a/n: as you can tell, i'm insanely soft for hoonie<33 my baby frfr

pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader

warning: SMUT!, derogative language (c!nt), oral, sub!hoonie, brat-tamer!reader, lil foot action but it's not bad i pinky promise, fingering, lots of spit

w.c: 1.8k

masterlist

“If Va and Vx are the voltages at the inverting and the non-inverting terminals of the op-amp–”

Thwack! 

You look to your left, the fox plushie that sits on your bed sprawled across the floor after being thrown at the back of your chair. Rather than turning around, you huff and rewind the lecture. Choosing to pay no mind to the whine coming from behind.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, falls back onto the bed, groaning when his latest attempt to get your attention fails. He doesn’t mean to be annoying–oh, who was he kidding? Of course, he does. He wants some attention, but you’re hell-bent on not giving him anything.

“…the voltages at the inverting and the non-inverting terminals–”

“Baby,” Sunghoon calls out. “Baby, angel, sweetheart, my love.”

You’re trying, you really are. You have an exam in two days, and all you have to do is get through these final lectures, and then you can move on to finalising your notes. So, it’s safe to say you’re on a strict schedule.

What you hadn’t accounted for, however, was your needy boyfriend constantly vying for your attention.

Had this been any other situation, you would have indulged Sunghoon a little, loving the way your boyfriend preens under the attention. Plus, there’s nothing more stress-relieving than going a few rounds.

But unfortunately, you’d severely underestimated how many modules you had to cover, so now you’re working several hours a day to make up for it. This means having your head down and watching copious amounts of lectures and tutorials online to explain what the hell electrical systems are.

Sunghoon knows this. In fact, he helped you organise said schedule. But he also included some much-needed ‘stress-relief’ time. Yet, the next time he looked, it was gone. Like, the audacity?

“Baby? Hey, baby?”

Back to your current problem. Your patience was wearing thin, and there’s only so much you can take before you snap. And with the way you’re rewinding the same part of the lecture repeatedly, it isn’t going to be pretty.

Pressing your hands to your headphones, you pray to every deity out there that Sunghoon gets the hint and shuts up. But, alas, who are you kidding? This is Park Sunghoon, a man who rarely knows when to give up.

You hear the bedsheets rustling, and before you can even think of glancing over, Sunghoon spins your chair around. Your faces are inches apart, and you’re momentarily struck with how utterly beautiful your boyfriend is.

Then all the annoyance and anger bubbles to the surface, and you burst.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You yell, tossing the headphones onto your table carelessly. You push up from the chair, crowding into Sunghoon’s space, who looks shocked to hear you raise your voice. “You couldn’t wait, what? 10 minutes for me to finish my lecture? Are you that desperate for my attention?”

Sunghoon’s looking at you, mouth dropped open, and there’s a faint blush on his cheeks. He looks cute like this. But then you watch that blush trail down his neck, onto his exposed chest. Then suddenly you become aware of how your boyfriend is dressed. A black low-cut shirt, exposing his broad shoulders and toned chest. But his jeans interest you the most, especially after noticing how tight they are around the crotch.

Did he get hard after I called him desperate? Fuck.

“God, aren’t you a little pathetic, Hoonie?”

Sunghoon turns away at the nickname, mind still trying to comprehend his bodily reaction and refusing to look at you. He can feel how hot his skin is getting under all the attention. The attention he was begging for a second ago.

“What?” You step closer, hands itching to grab Sunghoon’s face and force him to look your way. “Isn’t this what you wanted? My eyes on you?”

Sunghoon fiddles with the hem of his shirt, tugging it down to try and cover his raging hard-on from further embarrassing him. You merely watch, feeling the residual anger from earlier rear its head at the movement.

“Are you sorry, baby?”

The speed at which Sunghoon’s head turns to face you makes you smile. Finally, you’ve got your pretty boyfriend’s eyes on you. They’re wide and almost black with how dilated his pupils are. He nods a little, and God, you want to ruin him.

“Good. Get on your knees.”

There’s no hesitation as Sunghoon kneels.

He’s looking pretty, staring up at you through his lashes, bottom lip caught between his teeth. You tap your socked foot between Sunghoon’s legs, smiling down when he spreads his legs apart. Sitting down on your chair, you revel in the way Sunghoon’s eyes refuse to move from you, transfixed and never looking away.

Lifting your foot up, your smile turns sinister as you press your heel into Sunghoon’s crotch, watching him groan. His eyes flutter closed, hands gripping your ankle tightly and nails digging into the flesh.

Sliding a hand over your sweats, you push your palm against your core, flinching at the heat that rolls through you. Sunghoon’s features twist as you dig your heel further down into the denim. You pull your foot back once you notice Sunghoon rutting his hips up, tsking loudly.

“Please…” Sunghoon whimpers, eyes glazed over as they plead with you.

You spread your legs apart, sliding down and closer to the edge of the chair. “Come here.”

It’s a little funny watching Sunghoon scoot forward on his knees, hands reaching out for your thighs as leverage. He pulls himself forward, nestling himself between your open legs. Sunghoon’s fingers grip your legs, sliding down to your ankles one again.

You lean forward, reaching and gripping Sunghoon’s chip. You pull him closer and whisper, “Open.”

Sunghoon’s jaw slackens, and you slide two fingers into the awaiting mouth, prodding his tongue and reaching further back. You smile, hearing Sunghoon gag, fingers pulling back before sliding deeper.

“Now, show me how sorry you are.”

You slide your wet fingers across Sunghoon’s cheek, loving how messy he looks. Oh, this is just the beginning.

Lifting your hips up, you pull your sweatpants and underwear off, dragging them down your legs at an excruciating pace before tossing them to the side. You grip Sunghoon’s hair, pulling him closer by the dark roots.

Leaning forward, Sunghoon’s hands grip your thighs, spreading them apart before flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit, eyes never leaving yours.

“Don’t fucking tease.”

Without wasting another second, Sunghoon flattens his tongue, sliding it through your folds. His eyes flutter closed as he moans at the taste. Hands gripping the meat of your thigh harder, pulling you impossibly close.

Looking down at Sunghoon, you watch as he wraps his lips around your pussy and sucks. Deep. The wet heat of his mouth has you feeling dizzy.

How long has it been since they’ve done this? You almost feel bad when your mind comes up blank.

You’re taken out of your thoughts when Sunghoon’s fingers prod at your entrance, eyes peering up at you.

“You look so good, Hoonie, so fucking good eating my pussy like that,” you groan, hand gripping the armrest so hard your knuckles turn white.

Sunghoon moans, pushing his face further into your cunt. He can’t get enough. You taste so good, he feels like he could live in between your legs forever. Sunghoon can feel his cock twitching in his pants, can feel the wet patch on his underwear rubbing against his sensitive skin.

Sliding his fingers into you, Sunghoon can’t help but pull away to watch your heat envelope his digits. Watching them sink into you like you’re made for it–made for him.

Your hips push down on his fingers, impatient, and Sunghoon watches. He notices the way they twitch, the way your chest heaves, and sees your half-lidded eyes staring at him, begging for more.

You grind your pussy against Sunghoon’s mouth, using his face as a personal sex toy.

“Fuck, Hoon, your mouth feels like heaven.” Your mind is whirring with your approaching orgasm; you were about to lose it. “Keep going…”

Pulling off, Sunghoon catches his breath before sliding closer to your spread legs. He slips his fingers out of you before grabbing your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders.

The next second, Sunghoon’s got his tongue lapping at your cunt, tongue flicking incessantly against your clit. He slides two fingers back in you, building up a steady rhythm to bring you close again. Your pussy pulls him in, sucking his fingers into you. Sunghoon’s eyes never move from your face, watching you pant above him out of control.

He reaches over and yanks your top up, watching the way your tits bounce on your chest. Sunghoon’s hand reaches over and grips your breast, finger flicking your nipples, before pinching and pulling exactly the way you like.

Sunghoon’s jaw hurts from the way he’s got his mouth pressed against you. He can feel the spit being pushed out of his mouth, dribbling down his jaw and neck, and soaking into the hem of his shirt.

He can feel how wet his face is. Cum and spit sticking all over, making an absolute mess. But Sunghoon can only moan, eyes fluttering closed as his fingers thrust ruthlessly into you, lips sucking your clit in the way he knows will have your unravelling.

“Hoonie, fuck! Don’t stop, I’m gonna cum!”

He doesn’t. He can’t possibly stop. Not when he watches your back arch, your hips pushing his face further into your cunt. His nose is pressed against your clit as he laps hungrily into you. Your pussy is tightening around him, and in seconds, he feels your orgasm crash into you.

Your moans are melodic to him, motivating him to keep going. His tongue flicks at your clit, fingers still pumping into you, watching your body writhe with oversensitivity.

“Ah! God, Hoon!” You moan, gripping his hair so tightly you’re afraid it hurts. But you can’t help it; your orgasm washes over you. You rub against his face, hand pushing him into your cunt, the other working your nipple between your fingers.

Sunghoon’s fingers slow and slide out, face eventually moving away from your throbbing pussy. He can feel the cum splaying all over his face, his own spit dripping down his chin.

You collapse onto your chair, hissing at the feeling of Sunghoon’s fingers sliding out of you.

You look down to watch Sunghoon lick his fingers clean.

You tilt your head. “I’ve never seen you prettier than when you’re covered in my cum.”

Lifting yourself up, you lean forward to tug at Sunghoon’s jeans, only to be stopped. Looking up, you notice the sheepish way your boyfriend turns from you, ears tinged red.

Holy shit.

“Hoonie, you’re so hot, what the fuck?”

[hoonharem]

Deep throating Hoon 🫦 in the car…..

phewwww yes.

✧ tw. smut (18+ mdni!), oral sex, deepthroating, spit, car setting

sunghoon's hand rests on the back of your head, pushing it down slowly as your mouth stretches around his cock. you're in the passenger seat, turned to his side as you lean past the gear shift in the cramped car, one hand on his thigh while the other digs into his seat. "mmph—fuck, that's it," he groans, hips jerking up. "take it. deeper, baby."

his tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag, eyes watering as spit drips from the corners of your mouth. he hisses, head falling back against the headrest. "shit.. look at you," he mutters, watching the way you struggle to take him deep and full. "drooling all over my cock."

you attempt to pull back to catch your breath, but his hand pushes your head back down, holding you still as your eyes flutter. "breathe through your nose," he simply says. "you can take it. you love this shit."

a choked whine gets trapped in your throat, muffled by the weight of his cock on your tongue. all he does is chuckle at how much of a slut you are for him.

when he finally lets you up, a string of spit connects your lips to his tip, and your chest rises and falls in shaky breaths. he cups your jaw, thumb swiping the drool from your chin. "open up, pretty. i’m not done."

[hoonharem]

*ೃ ༄ 𝒏asty - p.sh

"How many guys have you been with—since me?" "You don't get to know that answer—" "How many made you come?"

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: exes to lovers, smut

This content is only for readers 18+

word count: 4.1k

content warning: strong language(they say fuck like 100 times), explicit smut, scratching, glasses kink, dirty talk, size kink, deep fingering, spitting, face painting with arousal, messy missionary sex, slipping out, cumplay, safe word mention, almost losing consciousness, emotional vulnerability

soundtrack: nasty - ariana grande

“So you’re not going to let me in? Seriously? I bought you dinner!”

You sigh, hand resting on the door handle of your apartment. Another date from those stupid, stupid apps. 

“I’m ok really, I work very early in the morning…” You reply, back pressed up against the door, hand gripping the door handle even tighter. 

“Fine! Don’t expect to see me again if you’re going to waste my money and time.” He yells before turning on his heel, stomping down the hall muttering to himself with frustration. 

You scoff with disbelief as you unlock the door to your apartment. Double-triple checking to make sure it's locked.

You immediately jumped in the shower to rinse off all the dirt from your less-than-impressive date. 

You’ve been back in the dating pool for a few months after cutting things off with Sunghoon. One too many arguments, one too many misunderstandings. 

You feel the ick rinsing off your skin as the warm water cascades over your shoulders and down your body to pool at your feet. 

This guy seriously thinks he can buy you for a twelve dollar all star meal. 

The fucking nerve. 

Most guys you met were either at the bar or through the apps. 

Hell, pure hell is what it was. And apparently that’s where the bar is too. 

You step out of the shower into the steaming bathroom. Finally feeling clean from the bad energy shifted onto you from your date.

You dry off your hands before picking up your phone from the bathroom counter. Heart-stopping, nearly dropping it as you see the notification flicker on your homescreen. 

Sunghoon Park(11:19pm) You called?

You read the message again. You didn’t call? Your brows furrow with confusion as you open up the message. Fingertips hovering over the screen before you scroll through your call history. 

“Shit—“ you curse to yourself. 

Sunghoon Park - Not Received(Friday 1:47am)

Your heart sinks. You curse again. This is exactly why his number should be blocked. His number shouldn’t even be saved in your phone. 

You(11:21pm) Sorry didn’t mean to bother you.  Must’ve been drunk. 

You throw your phone onto the bed, watching as it bounces off the pillows. Your heart races. Why are you even talking to him right now?

You hear your phone vibrate under the covers. Your chest already feels tight. You can't let him have this much power over you still. Especially not over the phone.

You let your shoulders drop their tension as you climb onto the bed, searching for your phone in the sea of pillows and blankets.

Sunghoon Park(11:23pm) so why'd u call? 

You grit your teeth as you stare back at the message. Your fingertips hover over the keyboard as you think hard and deep about what insults to throw back at him as you tell him off via text message.

Sunghoon Park Is Typing...

Your heart skips a beat as you watch the typing button disappear and re-appear on the screen as he types out his message, deletes it, and types up another one.

Sunghoon Park(11:25pm)  want me to come over?

You swallow hard, your fingertips tremble as you hesitate to do the one thing you know you shouldn't.

Not that things can get much worse after your last date.

You(11:26pm) doors unlocked.  you know what floor i'm on.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you sit on the bed in your bathrobe. This has to be a prank. He's got to be pulling a stunt to make an absolute fool out of you.

Twenty minutes go by.

And a knock at the door interrupts your spiraling.

You drag your feet across the cold, hard floor. Fingertips trembling as you open up the door.

Sunghoon stands in front of you. His appearance was messy a uncoordinated, like he really did drive over here on a whim.

You look him up and down, noticing his messy dark hair, his glasses slightly crooked on his nose bridge. The way his plain black shirt hugs his body, the way the gray sweatpants he has on conceal absolutely nothing.

You cross your arms over your chest as you let him in. Shutting the door behind him, watching as Sunghoon steps past you into your apartment.

The familiar scent of those fall-scented candles you burn year-round hits his senses, making his heart swell in ways it shouldn't have. Not anymore, at least.

"So why'd you call me?" He asks as he looks you up and down. His eyes scanning you from ankle to collarbone like he's reminiscing on something he lost.

You let out a huff of disbelief, in return, scanning your eyes over his disheveled appearance in the dim lighting.

"It was an accident. Probably fell asleep with my phone in the bed, or butt dialed you at the bar last Friday." You say as you uncross your arms from over your chest. revealing more of your soft skin to his line of sight.

The corner of his lips curves up into a smirk. He laughs under his breath before he looks back up into your eyes.

"An accident, seriously? Then why'd you text me back?" Sunghoon asks as he steps closer to you. The familiar scent of his cedarwood cologne brushes past you. Reminding you of all the good—and the bad.

"Why am I not blocked is the real question. You shouldn't even be getting my calls." You spit out as he steps closer.

He’s close enough for you to glance at his dark eyes behind the large frame of his glasses. Close enough to recognize the sparse freckles across his pale skin.

"Admit it, you missed me," Sunghoon says, voice dripping with tension as his hand gently cups the side of your face. His fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of your hair.

"Did not"

"Stop lying—" He says, his voice husky and deep, like he's trying to hold back unchecked restraint.

Before you can open your mouth to respond, his lips crash into yours.

He kisses you, gripping you harder, backing you up until the edge of the kitchen countertop digs into your spine.

Your hands rest on his broad chest, hesitating. You don't know whether to push him away or pull him in.

Sunghoon moans as he gently nips at your bottom lip. He smiles with satisfaction as you let out a sharp hiss, kissing you exactly how he remembers you like it.

You gasp as his mouth melts back into yours. Moans catch deeply in his chest as he pushes into you more, his knee pressing between the expanse of your thighs.

You break away, gasping for air like he just took the rest out of your lungs. His forehead rests against your own as his hands slide to your waist. His rough fingertips gently toying with the tie of your robe.

"Still gonna keep pretending you don't miss me?" He whispers before kissing you again softly.

Your lips melt against his like second nature. And you can't decide if you love it or despise it.

He gazes into your eyes. Heavy, charged behind the large frames of his glasses. He doesn't look away as his fingertips fidget with the knot of your robe.

He lets the satin slip off your shoulders, the fabric pooling on the floor at your feet.

You should tell him off, you should scream at him to leave.

But you don't.

Your eyes stay locked on the way his bottom lip fits between his teeth. A shiver goes up your spine as the cool air of your apartment hits your exposed skin.

The robe settles, giving Sunghoon an unfiltered view of everything you have to offer. Except it's not like he remembers.

It's better.

"You still don't wear anything underneath—" Sunghoon mutters as his hands hover right above the curve of your waist.

"Still acting like you don't want this?" You whisper, your voice low, dripping with a promise of more.

"Fuck—" He groans as his hands find your waist, a familiar warmth shooting through his fingertips as he leans in again. His thumb brushes the skin beneath your ribs as his mouth captures your own.

He moans through the kiss, his hands slow as they trace all the lines and curves that long faded from his memory.

"How many—fuck," Sunghoon whispers between heated kisses, his chest rising and falling as his breath strengthens.

"How many guys have you been with—since me?" Sunghoon pants against your own swollen lips.

Your fingertips slide up his sides, tangling in his dark hair as you kiss him back with just as much enthusiasm.

"You don't get to know that answer—" You mumble against his lips.

"Fine, be that way," Sunghoon whispers into another kiss, his hands sliding down to your hips, thumbs brushing over the curve of your hipbone.

"How many made you come?" He gasps as his lips drag down your jawline, finding the thin skin of your neck.

"They—I" You stutter, the words getting caught in the same throat he simultaneously drags his lips down.

"That's what I fucking thought. Poor baby, bet they didn't even try, did they?" He mumbles into your neck as his lips drag further down your skin to your collarbone.

His hands slide from your hips to your ass, and you whimper at the contact. Familiar yet so different.

You want to curse him for being right. For calling out the fact that you haven't had a proper orgasm since the two of you broke things off.

Sunghoon lets his hands slide down the back of your thighs, your arms wrap around his neck on instinct as he picks you up.

Your head rests in the crook of his neck as he navigates the dark hall to your room with no instructions. Remembering exactly which door is yours.

"I can't Sunghoon—I fucking can't, not with a fucking toy, not with anything else." You confess into his shoulder as he lies you down in the center of the bed.

"Yeah? Missed when I used to fuck you nasty? Missed how I used to make to come over and over on my cock, yeah?" Sunghoon coaxes as he looks down at you. His fingertips are soft as they brush your hair out of your line of sight.

"Missed you—" You choke out, your throat feeling like it's wrapped in barbed wire at the confession.

And that's exactly what he wants to hear.

Sunghoon stands at the corner of the bed, swiftly pulling his black shirt up and over his chest. Revealing all the hard muscles of his pale skin.

He slips between your legs grinning against your lips as he kisses you back. 

“I missed you too, so fucking much.” 

His hand slides down your body, your thighs parting for him without request. 

He shamelessly slides his fingers through your folds, spreading the slick wetness across the expanse of your pussy. 

“Goddamn, it has been a while,” Sunghoon swears under his breath. 

He bites his lip, staring down at you as his fingertips press into your aching hole, pumping in with gentle force. 

You smile up at him, hands reaching to the side of his face to remove his fogged-up glasses with a weak laugh. 

Sunghoon shakes his head, breath panting as his fingertips curl up, hitting that sweet spot that still makes you weak. 

Your hips arch off the mattress. Sunghoon chuckles deeply as he watches you get off with just his fingers. You moan shamelessly, already clenching around his invading digits. 

You gasp as he spits on you with no warning. Fingertips pulling out of your aching hole, strings of wetness following as he drags his fingers roughly through your swollen folds to rub at your clit.

You choke on another moan. Thighs clenching, back arching off the mattress at the delicious friction between your thighs. So slick, so wet. 

“That’s it, let me hear you, God I fucking missed this, missed you,” Sunghoon confesses as he pumps his fingertips in and out even more, curving them to punch against that sweet spongey spot inside your fluttering walls. 

You cry out, hands gripping the sheets as he ruined you with his fingertips. You feel that familiar warmth pulse between your thighs.

It’s been so long. 

His hand dives in, punching harder and harder into your hole. Watching as he stretches you out. Watching as you take everything he gives with no rebuttal.

You wince as he slips another finger in, the rim of your hole stinging slightly with the aching stretch. Your lungs feel tight as he fills your channel up with his fingers. Aggressively punching your g-spot with each thrust making your eyes water in response.

“Fuck…Sunghoon, I need—“ 

“Thought you’d never ask.” He says bluntly as his fingertips withdraw from you. You gasp at the empty feeling. Hips twitching underneath him.

He brings his hand to his lips, tongue shamelessly licking off all your arousal without hesitation. He lets out a moan as the sweet taste hits his tongue.

“Did you get sweeter while I was gone?” Sunghoon teases as he licks the rest of your wetness from his fingertips. 

“Did you get bigger? Seriously look at you.” You reply as you glance at him through hazy eyes. Following the curve of his shoulder, the lines of his abdomen.

Sunghoon chuckles weakly as he shoves his fingers back into you, gathering your wetness. You watch from below as strings of arousal connect his fingers to your pussy as he withdraws them once more.

He locks eyes with you, bringing his glistening fingers to your lips, painting them with your own arousal. 

“Fuck…” he whispers under his breath as he paints your lips with your own juices. Your lips are already so swollen, and plump from the fiction of his.

“Open?” He asks reluctantly, like he’s asking for permission to push this to another level before it’s really even got started.

The curve of your lips tugs up into a weak smile before you open your mouth. Letting him shove his wet fingers in with a sharp gasp.

You taste yourself on your tongue, moaning at the gesture. Making sure to lick his fingertips clean before he reluctantly pulls them out of your mouth.

Sunghoon rests above you, panting, gasping for breath as his fingertips hook into the waistband of his sweats, gently pulling them down enough to let his hard cock spring free. 

You moan at the sight, he’s huge, hard, already swollen, and leaking with need. Your legs subconsciously part without instruction as you look at the cock you’ve been missing.

The sound of sharp breathing fills the air as he hooks one of your legs overtop his shoulder. Preparing to hit angles that are sure to make you see stars. 

His brows furrow as his tip slides between your wet folds. A soft gasp falls from your own lips. 

It feels so fucking good. 

You melt into the bedsheets, feeling his pre-come mix with your wetness as he slides his swollen tip between your crevices, his eyes locked on the sight, lips parted. 

He lets out a deep, punishing moan as he slides through your slick again, watching as your wetness drips onto his pale cock, the light reflecting off the wetness coating his length.

His eyes roll back as he slips through you’re slick mess. Your hands grab his shoulders, nails digging into his pale skin at the heat of his cock between your lower lips.

“Holy fuck…” Sunghoon curses as he notches himself in your dripping hole. Shutting his eyes tight to steady himself. 

You clench around his invading length. Walls fluttering at the pleasured stretch. His swollen tip stretches your hole, the sight erotic as you struggle to open up and take the size. 

He glances at you one last time for consent. You nod, already feeling so full from just his fucking tip. You arch off the mattress, scratching at his shoulders as you feel him forcing his way in.

His forearms steady on either side of your head as he pushes inside you. His cock was already throbbing from the wet stretch.

He forces his way in, brutal inch after inch. Gasping as you clench him like you don’t want to let him go.

Sunghoon moans deeply his lungs full as the feeling of you gripping him sends warmth through his entire body. His arms shake at your sides as he bottoms out inside your wet hole. 

“Goddamn…” Sunghoon curses as he stalls for a moment. Sweaty forehead resting against your own as he struggles to breathe normally.

He grips the sheets on the side of your head, using the force of his spine to pull back his hips. Earning another gasp from your lips. 

A smile tugs at the edge of his lips with disbelief. Disbelief that he went so long without this, without you. 

“Fucking missed that didn’t you?” He groans as he pauses with his hips back. Swollen still notched inside your wetness. 

“Sun—“

“Say it. Say you fucking missed all of me.” He gasps as his forearms burn with the strain of holding his body up.

He pauses, letting you clench around the inch of his inviting tip. Aching to pull the rest of him back into your warmth. 

“I missed you. GOD FUCK—“ you yell as he slams back into you with bruising force. His cock stretching you so wide it makes your eyes water and hips buckle. 

“Fuck yeah. Look at this pussy. Fucking taking it, keep taking my cock, God—“ Sunghoon pants as he bottoms out inside again, your legs cramping at the fullness.

 The tip of his dick kisses your cervix as he grinds deep. He drops down, letting his lips brush against yours as he gasps for air. His mouth breathing in the oxygen of yours. 

He rolls his hips up, making your vision go blurry with the agonizing force. Your back arches off the mattress as your nails drag down his biceps, leaving scratches deep enough to last until morning. 

“Fuck, I can’t—“ you gasp for air as he takes it out of your very lungs, with his cock, with his lips. 

“You can…look. You’re taking it," Sunghoon coaxes as his lips drag across your jaw. Kissing your hot skin as he grinds into you slower, deeper.

He slows his movements, the lack of friction making you whimper with the ache. One of his hands lifts off the bed, gently brushing your hair behind your ears. Gently cupping the side of your face. 

He leans in to kiss you. Slowly, deeply, as he pushes out all the emotions of regret, want, everything into your mouth. 

You take it, swallowing it back as your tongue slips through the seam of his lips. Tangling with his own, as yours caresses it back. 

He pants as you come apart, his hair sweaty, sticking to his forehead as he starts to thrust into you again. 

Your eyes roll back with the pleasure. Arms weak as they fall to from his body your sides. You’re completely out of his as he laces his fingertips with your own. 

You feel the wetness running down the sheets, warmth hitting your lower back as he thrusts into your wet hole. Dripping more and more with each delicious thrust of desire. 

“You're soaked…” Sunghoon mumbles as his hands gently release yours to anchor your hips harder to the bed. 

He adjusts your ankles to rest on his shoulders as he thrusts in deeper and deeper. Lips parted as he watches you take all he has to offer you. 

Your breasts bounce in time with his thrusts. Your head rested against the pillows as he set a steady rhythm. 

“Oh my God, I’ve never seen you make such a mess—shit.” He gasps as his massive cock slips out of your wetness. 

You wince at the cold, empty feeling, eyes hazy as you watch his cock slap against his lower stomach, more of your arousal slapping against the top of his thighs. 

“Sorry..I can’t—“ you cry out, pussy throbbing at the emptiness. 

“Don’t…no this is just—holy shit—“Sunghoon breathes out as his hand wraps around the base of his cock, using your slick to give it a few steady pumps before he lines himself back up with your aching heat. 

“Still with me?” Sunghoon coaxes… his hand gently cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed softly against the fullness. 

“Yeah…yeah—“ you pant, sweat sliding down your temples as he kisses you again. Thrusting back into your heat with slick ease. 

His hands slide down your sides, gently lowering your legs off his shoulders to push your thighs back towards the mattress. 

The back of your thighs strains as your knees hit the sheets. Your pussy completely exposed for him to brutally ruin. 

He continues his pace, thrusting slower, deeper, harder. The new angle makes you slip in and out of consciousness as he hits those deep spots that send a slap of pleasure throughout your whole entire body. 

The wet obscene sound of your slick bubbling around his cock interrupts the sharp breaths between you two. It splashes out of your hole, against the top of his thighs with each rough thrust. 

“Fuck..I can’t stop dripping..” you whimper as your head falls back against the sheets. The coolness against your skin making you shiver. 

“Never said I wanted you too.” Sunghoon finishes as he thrusts down and up. Knowing the inside of your body like no one else. 

“Fuck I’m gonna come…” You gasp as you feel your thighs grow tense. Pussy throbbing as you grip him with every dragging thrust.

Your abs tighten, back arching up to meet the angle of his brutal movements. 

Your eyes flutter shut as your vision goes blurry. Fingers and toes feeling numb at the intensity of how hard he’s fucking you. Your grow limp fighting not to slip out of consciousness. 

“Shit..you still with me? Stay with me..come on” Sunghoon gasps, gently patting the side of your face to keep you from slipping away. 

“Coming…coming..” you whisper weakly as your body tenses up. Back arching as waves of arousal flow through every nerve in your body. 

You clench down on him hard, pulling his fullness in as you release around him. Dripping onto his cock, his thighs and the sheets. 

Sunghoon lets out an animalistic groan at the heat, at the tight pull. He gently rocks into you. Eyes wide as he watches every flutter of your lashes as you come down from your high. 

You feel him pulsing inside, his hips jerking as he gets closer and closer to his own release. 

“I’m gonna come..fuck, where do you want it?” He gasps frantically on the edge of release.

“I—“

Before you can respond he’s coming undone, pulling his cock out of your slick as ropes of cum drop onto your stomach and tits. 

He groans deep as he pumps himself through his orgasm, coming hard and long. 

You moan softly as his hot cum paints your skin. Mixing with the wet sheets and sweat, making everything so fucking wet and sticky. 

He collapses on top of your body. His hot skin falling into his own cum as his body goes completely limp. 

His eyes widen and his heart races as the image of your weak face flashes over and over. His hands hold you tighter, gripping your sides to make sure you’re still here with him. 

“I’m sorry..was I too rough? Fuck you just felt so good, I—didn’t realize. You almost passed out on me, you stopped talking and I—..” Sunghoon confesses, his brows furrowed with worry. 

You interrupt with a soft chuckle. Smiling up at him in the mess. Fingertips gently pushing his damp hair out of his eyes. You reach over to the bedside table. Grabbing his glasses and gently sliding them back on his face. 

You laugh softly as you adjust them. Sunghoons eyes wide as you straighten the glasses on his nose. 

“I did pass out—well, almost. But I would’ve told you to stop if I didn’t want it,” you confess gently, cupping the side of his face. 

“Like I said. I haven’t come in awhile.” You say voice cracking at the confession. 

“We need a fucking safe word..” Sunghoon says weakly as he kisses you again—Slow, uncoordinated, and sloppy. 

You smile against his lips., his glasses already fogging up from the heat between you two. 

“So you’re suggesting you’ll be back rough enough for me to need one?” You say with a cheeky smile. Hands gently holding him close in all the mess. 

“Depends…do you want me back?” Sunghoon asks. His voice shakier that it’s been all night. 

Your heart races as you look up into his eyes, tugging you right back in his direction. Even if the path ahead doesn't look picture perfect.

“I do.” 

© brokenengene

kate's note: Like promised, here is "nasty" It was heavily inspired by the whole Positions album(iykyk). I really stepped out of my comfort zone with this, but I'm overall happy with the result. I hope Sunghoon's brokenengene debut lands strong. I've been wanting to write for him forever, and I've finally got this fic all tied up in a nice bow for you guys.

I also have a long fic coming soon for the sunghoon fans. The taglist is open if you want to be notified when it drops!

Like always, I appreciate all the feedback and support

I wish all of you well,

xoxo kate <3

perm taglist: perm. taglist: @aggarwaldrishti @kristynaaah @vanillaxbambi @ninistranaut @dulcetnostalgia @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @nesquikluvr @osakinanadesu @m1kkso

[hoonharem]

loyalty test (part 2) | park sunghoon

synopsis: your friends asks you to test her boyfriend, Sunghoon.

cara's corner: i was so lazy trying to finish this up but it's finally done. this is 12.2k words, more than part 1 which is just insane. i hope ya'll enjoy this, it's messy but who cares.

read part one here.

taglist: @underyang @k1ttyjwon @miauumin @hi00000234567 @nnmura @jvngw0nlvr @avaloveshoon @acidsoju @liciaunlockmyheart @yunlazia @kristynaaah @calilovesdilfs @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @tobiosbbyghorl @starry-eyed-bimbo @qualityghostgirlie @kirakun @bossbitchbabie @cheryyluv @rikidaze @pinkieluvv @dazedhqqn @kaiaonsaturn @whateverhoon @hwang-hynjin @hoonatic @babygguk98 @chvconn3 @nithxhoon @toodeloosoo @seokjinthescientist @yaniehoon @enhawonnie @hoonkishoe @is2ikeu @vivvangel @reep04 @jjongsies

—

You clutched a platter of sweating deviled eggs like a shield, the creamy filling threatening to slide onto your fingers. Jisoo buzzed around, adjusting a lopsided ‘Happy Birthday!’ banner taped above the grill.

“He’s just been… different, you know?” Jisoo sighed, shoving a stray strand of hair off her forehead. Her smile looked brittle, painted over a well of worry. “Quieter. Distant. Like he’s got this whole other life happening I don’t know about.” She grabbed a bag of chips, tearing it open with unnecessary force. “He used to text me little things all day, stupid memes, what he had for lunch… Now? Radio silence unless I chase him.”

The guilt was a physical thing, a cold, heavy stone lodged right beneath your ribs, making it hard to breathe in. You forced a sympathetic murmur, avoiding her eyes. "Maybe he's stressed about something?"

The words tasted like ash. How many times had you tried to end it? To block his number, to avoid his classes, to say ‘no’ when he cornered you with that dark, knowing look? And how many times had your resolve crumbled the moment his hands found your skin, his voice dropped to that possessive growl, promising oblivion you craved more than air? You were weak. Weak for him. Weak for the way he made you forget everything but him.

“Stress?” Jisoo scoffed, though her eyes were suspiciously bright. “Maybe. But it feels like more. Like he’s pulling away.” She glanced towards the gate, anxiety tightening her features. “God, I hope he likes this. I hope it… reminds him.” Her voice cracked slightly.

Before you could choke out an empty platitude, a ripple went through the crowd near the gate. A collective intake of breath. Jisoo snapped to attention, shoving the chip bag at you. “He’s here! Get ready!”

You stumbled back into the throng of friends and neighbors clustered near the food table, heart hammering against your ribs. The heavy gate scraped open.

Sunghoon stood there, blinking against the sudden glare. He wore faded swim trunks and a loose white tee damp with sweat at the neck, his dark hair tousled. He looked tired, a little surprised, his sharp features unreadable for a fleeting second.

“SURPRISE!”

The shout erupted around him. Confetti poppers went off, showering him in bright paper shreds. Jisoo launched herself forward, beaming, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Happy Birthday, baby!”

He caught her automatically, his hands settling lightly on her waist. He dipped his head, returning her kiss. It was brief. Polite. The kind of kiss you give someone in front of an audience. As his lips touched hers, his eyes lifted. Not towards the cheering crowd.

Straight to you.

His gaze locked onto yours across the crowded patio, over Jisoo’s shoulder. There was no surprise in them now. Only that familiar, heavy-lidded intensity, like banked coals suddenly flaring in a dark room. It wasn't a casual glance; it was a possession. A branding.

He held your stare for a heartbeat that stretched into eternity, ignoring the noise, ignoring Jisoo still clinging to him, her face pressed happily against his chest.

In that suspended moment, the guilt curdled into something sharper, hotter. Shame burned your cheeks, warring violently with the treacherous spark of arousal that flickered low in your belly at the sheer force of his attention. He saw you. He saw the guilt, the fear, the undeniable want you couldn't hide. And in his eyes, there was no remorse, only that dark, consuming hunger.

Jisoo pulled back slightly, looking up at him with shining eyes. “Surprised?” she asked, her voice breathless.

Sunghoon finally broke eye contact with you, looking down at her. He offered a slow smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, his voice smooth, controlled. “Real surprised, darling. Thanks.”

He squeezed her waist lightly, but his gaze slid past her again, finding you once more before sweeping over the rest of the party. The message was clear: You’re here. I see you. This changes nothing.

He moved further into the party, accepting backslaps and greetings, letting Jisoo lead him. But the air around you felt thick and charged, heavy with unspoken secrets and the dangerous promise simmering in his lingering stare.

The pool water shimmered invitingly, but all you felt was the suffocating heat of guilt and the terrifying pull of Sunghoon’s dark gravity, promising that this stolen chaos was far from over. You left, walking towards the kitchen.

You leaned against the counter, gripping the edge, trying to steady your breathing.

The image of Sunghoon’s eyes locking onto yours over Jisoo’s shoulder, that deliberate, burning stare, replayed on a loop, tightening the knot of guilt and panic in your chest. You heard the splash of water, distant laughter, Jisoo’s bright voice calling out—reminders of the life you were poisoning.

A shift in the air, a subtle pressure change. You didn't need to turn around to know. The fine hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Slowly, you looked towards the open doorway.

He was leaning against the frame, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Sunghoon. He’d ditched the t-shirt, leaving just the low-slung swim trunks that hugged the lean lines of his hips and thighs. Water droplets glistened on his sculpted shoulders and chest, tracing paths down his abdomen.

His dark eyes weren’t amused now; they were fixed on you with an intensity that felt like a physical touch, stripping away the thin veneer of party cheer.

"Needed an escape?" he drawled, pushing off the doorframe. His voice was low, intimate, carrying effortlessly through the quiet kitchen despite the noise outside.

He took a step forward, then another, closing the distance with that effortless, predatory grace. You instinctively took a half-step back, your back bumping against the counter. The space between you crackled.

He smiled faintly, a knowing curve of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. "Don't," he murmured. "Don't run from me." He reached out, not forcefully, but with undeniable intent. His fingers brushed against your temple, then slid into your hair, pushing a strand behind your ear.

His touch sent a jolt through you, a treacherous echo of all the times his hands had mapped your body. You tried to turn your head away, shame burning you.

His other hand came up, catching your chin gently but firmly. He tilted your face back towards his, forcing you to meet that relentless gaze. "Look at me," he commanded softly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "What's wrong, baby?" His voice was poison, laced with a knowing cruelty. "Got something on your mind?"

You swallowed, the confession thick and painful in your throat. "It's... it's wrong," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Being here... with her... and you... and me..." You gestured vaguely towards the patio. "The guilt... it's eating me alive, Sunghoon."

He didn't flinch. Didn't offer platitudes or excuses. His gaze remained steady, dark pools reflecting your own turmoil without an ounce of remorse. Instead of words, he lowered his head. His lips brushed the frantic pulse point at the base of your throat—right over the fading ghost of an old hickey he'd left.

"Guilt," he murmured against your skin, the word a hot puff of air that made you shiver. "Feels cold. Doesn't it?" He kissed the spot softly, then dragged his lips slowly, deliberately up the column of your neck, tracing a path towards your jaw. "Feels empty." Another soft kiss just below your ear. "Let it go."

He didn't want to soothe your conscience; he wanted to obliterate it. His mouth found yours then.

His lips crushed down, silencing any further protest. His tongue swept into your mouth with possessive familiarity, tasting the lingering salt of the pool air. It was a kiss designed to overwhelm, to incinerate thought.

He kissed you with the raw hunger you recognized—the same hunger that always burned away your resolve. One hand fisted tighter in your hair at the nape, holding you captive, while the other slid down your arm to grip your hip.

You moaned into his mouth, a helpless sound muffled against his lips. Your traitorous body arched towards him, seeking the heat radiating from his bare skin despite every screaming instinct telling you to push him away.

Your hands, which had been braced defensively against the counter behind you, now clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle there, pulling him closer instead of pushing him back.

He broke the kiss for a ragged breath, his eyes blazing down into yours. "Just feel me," he growled. Then, before you could register the movement, his hands slid down to grip under your knees.

In one smooth motion, he lifted you effortlessly off your feet and set you down hard on the cool granite countertop. The sudden height brought you almost eye-level with him.

He stepped between your thighs, forcing them apart as he reclaimed your mouth instantly. This kiss was deeper, hungrier. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking him close, pressing your core against the unmistakable hardness straining against the thin fabric of his swim trunks.

The friction drew a sharp gasp from you, swallowed immediately by his demanding mouth.

All thoughts of guilt, of Jisoo laughing just yards away, of the party swirling outside the kitchen door—they dissolved in the furnace of sensation. His hands roamed freely now: one sliding under your tank top to palm your breast, his thumb circling your nipple through the fabric of your swimsuit top underneath until it peaked painfully hard; the other hand sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you even tighter against his erection, grinding against you in a slow, deliberate rhythm that mimicked what you both craved.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, kissing him back with equal desperation. Your hips rocked against him shamelessly, chasing the building friction. The counter was cold beneath your thighs, a stark contrast to the burning heat spreading through your core.

The only sounds were the wet slide of mouths, ragged breaths mingling in the humid air, and the faint throb of music and splashing water from outside—a world away.

His mouth left yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck again, biting lightly at the sensitive skin where shoulder met throat. "That's it," he rasped against your damp skin. "Just like that. Forget everything else." His hand under your shirt pushed the fabric up, exposing your stomach and bra, his thumb hooking under the strap of your swimsuit top, threatening to push it down.

You were lost in it—the taste of him. The feel of his skin under your hands, the hard ridge pressing where you needed him most, the promise in his touch… Until a sudden burst of laughter sounded terrifyingly close to the kitchen door.

Then, the sharp click of the sliding glass door from the patio. Footsteps. Laughter. Someone was coming into the kitchen.

Pure terror doused the fire in your veins like ice water. Your eyes flew wide. "Sunghoon!" you hissed, panic strangling your voice. You tried to push against his chest, but it was like shoving a brick wall. "Someone's coming! Move!"

He didn't flinch. His eyes, dark, held yours captive. His hand tightened on your hip, keeping you exactly where you were—legs spread around him, body arched towards him. The footsteps drew nearer, accompanied by the clink of ice in a glass. They hadn't rounded the corner into the kitchen proper yet, but they were seconds away.

"Upstairs," Sunghoon breathed against your temple, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through your bones. "Right now. I'm fucking dying for you. Been hard since I walked in and saw you." His hand slid from your hip to cup your ass, pulling you harder against him, forcing you to feel the insistent heat and thickness straining against the damp fabric. "Need to be inside you."

"It's… it's her place," you stammered, shame twisting in your gut even as a slick pulse of heat answered his grinding pressure low in your belly. "We can't—"

"Don't care whose place it is," he breathed against your lips. His dark eyes burning with absolute certainty. "Only thing I care about is that i'm inside you."

"No!" you gasped, trying desperately to squirm away, to slide off the counter. His other hand came up, tangling in the hair at your nape, not painfully, but firmly, holding you still. "Sunghoon, please! They'll see!" Your voice cracked. You could almost feel the intruder's gaze landing on the compromising scene.

"I need to hear you say yes." His thumb brushed the frantic pulse in your throat. His eyes bored into yours, stripping away every pretense. He knew your fear was stronger than your resistance right now. He was using it. "Say you'll come to me."

The footsteps were right around the corner now. You could hear humming. Any second…

"Yes!" you blurted, the word ripped from you in a terrified whisper. "Yes, alright! Now move!"

A slow, triumphant smirk curved his lips, devoid of warmth, full of dark possession. "Good girl," he murmured, the praise tasting like ashes in your panic. He leaned in, impossibly fast, and captured your lips in a hard, claiming kiss. It was brief, fierce, a seal on your reluctant promise. His tongue swept possessively against yours before he pulled back.

Only then did he step away, releasing your hair and hip. He turned towards the sink with infuriating casualness just as Mark, one of Sunghoon's classmates, rounded the corner, holding an empty cup.

"Hey, man," Minho said, heading for the ice dispenser. "Crazy party, huh? Jisoo went all out." He glanced at you, still perched on the counter, legs dangling, your face undoubtedly flushed, your lips swollen, your hair a mess. His gaze lingered for a beat too long, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Everything cool?"

Sunghoon grabbed a glass, filling it with water from the tap. His expression was smooth, relaxed. Perfectly composed. "Yeah," he drawled, taking a slow sip. "Just grabbing some water. Needed a minute." He didn't look at you, but you felt the weight of his awareness like a physical touch. "You okay there?" he asked you, the question dripping with false innocence, a private mockery only you understood.

You scrambled off the counter, your legs shaky. You smoothed down your top with trembling hands, avoiding Mark's gaze and Sunghoon's unnerving calm. "Fine," you managed, your voice tight. "Just… hot. Needed water too." You grabbed a random glass and filled it, your hands shaking so badly water sloshed over the rim.

Sunghoon nodded, finally turning his head slightly to look at you. His dark eyes met yours. They held no apology, no reassurance. Only the simmering heat of what had just happened, the dangerous promise of 'later,' and the terrifying knowledge of the power he held over you. The air between you crackled, thick with unspoken sin and the echo of his demand.

He followed Mark out, leaving you alone in the suddenly stifling kitchen. The cool water in your hand did nothing to quench the fire of panic and shame licking at your insides. You’d agreed. You’d promised.

Your heart hammered against your ribs. The noise of the party swelled—laughter, splashing, music. Jisoo’s voice rang out, bright and happy. Guilt clawed at your throat. No. Can't. Shouldn't.

But your body was screaming yes. The phantom press of his cock against you lingered, the memory of his demanding kiss burning your lips. Four minutes passed in a blur of terrified indecision. Then, driven by a hunger stronger than shame, you moved.

You slipped out of the kitchen, avoiding eye contact, heart pounding in your ears louder than the music. The stairs felt endless. At the top, a hand shot out from the darkened bathroom doorway. Sunghoon grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside, slamming the door shut behind you and clicking the lock with finality.

The small bathroom was lit only by the weak light filtering through the high window. He wasted no time. In one swift motion, he lifted you onto the cold countertop beside the sink, your legs instinctively parting for him as he stepped between them. His hands pushed your skirt up around your waist, baring your soaked underwear.

"Been thinking about this taste," he growled, dropping to his knees before you on the tiled floor. His large hands hooked under your thighs, pulling you to the very edge of the counter, spreading you wide.

He pressed his face against your covered sex, inhaling deeply through the fabric. "Fuck, baby. Soaked through." His thumbs hooked into the sides of your panties and ripped them down your thighs with a sharp tearing sound.

The first swipe of his tongue was a lightning bolt—broad and flat, dragging up your entire slit from entrance to clit through your wetness. You gasped, head thudding back against the mirrored wall.

"Missed this taste," he murmured against your folds before diving back in. His tongue was relentless, alternating between long, firm licks that dragged your juices up to your clit and tight, rapid circles focused solely on that swollen bud. He groaned, the vibration making your hips jerk uncontrollably. "Could eat this pussy for hours… taste so damn good."

You bit down hard on your knuckles, trying desperately to stifle the high-pitched whines and moans fighting to escape as he feasted on you. One hand fisted tightly in his hair, holding him against you, the other pressed over your mouth. Your hips bucked against his face as he sucked your clit hard into his mouth, flicking it mercilessly with the tip of his tongue.

"Don't hold back," he commanded roughly, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. His breath puffed hot against your exposed flesh. "Wanna hear how good it feels." He plunged two fingers deep inside you without warning, curling them upwards in that devastating way he knew drove you wild. Your muffled cry was loud even behind your hand as stars burst behind your eyelids.

"That's it," he encouraged darkly, pumping his fingers slowly while his tongue returned to torment your clit. "Sing for me. Let me hear how much you need this." He added a third finger, stretching you deliciously, working them in and out in a rhythm that matched the sinful lapping of his tongue.

You couldn't contain it. A strangled sob escaped your bitten hand as the pleasure spiraled impossibly high. Your thighs clamped around his head involuntarily as he sucked harder on your clit while his fingers pumped faster inside you. "S-Sunghoon!" you cried out, forgetting the risk, forgetting everything but the unbearable pressure coiling tighter and tighter.

"Come on," he urged against your clit, his voice thick. "Cum all over my face. Show me how much you missed this cock."

It was too much—the stretch of his fingers, the relentless suction on your clit, the filthy promises. Your back arched violently off the counter as orgasm detonated through you, a silent scream locked behind your teeth as your vision whited out. Your core clamped down rhythmically on his fingers while he rode out every pulsing wave with his tongue until you were trembling and oversensitive.

He finally pulled back slowly, licking his lips deliberately as he looked up at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark pools of satisfaction in the dim light. Your hand fell away from your mouth, leaving teeth marks on your knuckles. He stood slowly, his own arousal straining obscenely against his trunks, untouched and demanding.

"That's just the start," he murmured, wiping his glistening chin with the back of his hand before grabbing your hips again. The promise in his eyes sent a fresh shiver of dread and desire down your spine.

The taste of yourself still lingered on his lips as he kissed you again, deep and possessive, pinning you back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Your legs were still shaking from the brutal intensity of his mouth on you.

Before you could catch your breath, his fingers were hooking into the waistband of his swim trunks, shoving them down his hips just far enough. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed, and already weeping at the tip, a formidable presence in the dim light. He spat roughly into his palm, slicking himself with crude efficiency.

"Always so fucking tight for me," he groaned, the sound primal as he guided his broad crown to your soaked entrance. He pressed, a slow, inexorable invasion that forced your slick channel to yield to his girth inch by devastating inch.

Your head fell back against the tile with a soft thud, a choked gasp escaping your bitten lips as he stretched you wide, the initial burn a familiar agony that swiftly bled into overwhelming fullness. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmured against your neck, nipping the sensitive skin. "Take me. Take all of it."

He bottomed out with a low groan, his hips flush against your thighs, his cock buried to the hilt inside your trembling body. For a moment, he held still, letting you feel every ridge, every pulsing vein, the sheer impossible size of him filling you completely. Then, he began to move.

Slow, deep rolls of his hips at first, pulling out almost entirely before sinking back in with deliberate, grinding pressure. One hand slid up your torso finding your breast. His thumb circled your nipple through your bikini, then flicked it sharply before capturing the stiff peak between his finger and thumb, rolling it with exquisite roughness.

"Missed these pretty tits," he breathed against your lips before capturing them in another searing kiss. His tongue mimicked the thrust of his hips—deep, demanding. His free hand slid down your hip, gripping the curve of your ass, holding you open and impaled as he continued that slow, deep rhythm.

"Missed this tight little cunt hugging my cock." Each word was punctuated by a slow, deliberate surge forward, dragging a ragged moan from your throat. "Best fucking birthday present I ever got," he rasped, breaking the kiss to stare down at you, his eyes dark with lust and possession. "Right here… wrapped around me."

His pace began to quicken. The slow rolls became sharper snaps of his hips. The slow drag out became a swift withdrawal, only to slam back home with jarring force. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the small room, echoing off the tiles. His grip on your breast tightened, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he plucked and rolled your nipple relentlessly. His other hand left your ass to fist in your hair, tilting your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze as he drove into you.

"Tell me," he demanded, his breath hot on your face. "Tell me it's mine. This sweet pussy belongs to me."

"It's yours!" you gasped, the words ripped out by another deep thrust. "Sunghoon, please…"

"Louder," he growled, increasing his pace further. His cock pistoned into your depths, hitting that spongy spot deep inside with punishing accuracy on every downward stroke. Your hands scrambled for purchase on the cold countertop, nails scraping against porcelain.

You were a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter, an unbearable pressure building low in your belly. "Tell me you love taking my cock!"

Before you could form a coherent response, a sharp rap rattled the bathroom door.

"Sunghoon?" Jisoo's voice, bright and slightly muffled, cut through the haze of lust like ice water. "Baby? Where'd you disappear to? It's cake time! Everyone's waiting!"

Pure terror slammed into you. Your eyes flew wide. You froze beneath him, every muscle locking tight around his invading cock. A desperate whimper escaped you as you instinctively bit down hard on your own knuckle again, trying to stifle any sound.

Sunghoon didn’t freeze. He didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. A slow, wicked smirk spread across his face as he stared down at you, his hips never ceasing their relentless drive. He kept fucking you with deep, deliberate strokes, watching your panicked expression with dark amusement.

"I'm in the bathroom." he called out, his voice remarkably steady despite the exertion, the rhythm of his hips against your thighs never faltering. "Be right out!"

You squeezed your eyes shut, praying she’d leave. The counter dug into your back. His cock filled you mercilessly. Every nerve ending screamed—fear of discovery warring violently with the obscene pleasure radiating from where you were joined. The friction intensified as your inner muscles clenched in panic around him, drawing a low groan from his chest.

"Okay, hurry up!" Jisoo called back cheerfully. "Don't want your ice cream melting!" Her footsteps receded down the hallway.

The moment she was gone, Sunghoon leaned in close again, his lips brushing your ear. His thrusts became harder, faster, resuming their brutal pace without missing a beat.

"Scared you half to death, didn't she?" he murmured, his voice thick with dark amusement and arousal. One hand slid down your stomach, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, insistent circles that made you jerk violently against him.

"Felt you clamp down on my cock." He thrust particularly hard, making you gasp against your knuckles. "Did it turn you on, baby? The thought of her hearing me fucking this sweet pussy? Hearing you scream?"

You shook your head frantically against the tile wall, tears of shame and overwhelming sensation pricking your eyes again. "N-no!" you choked out behind your hand.

"Liar," he hissed. His hand on your breast pinched your nipple hard enough to make you cry out sharply into your own skin. "Your cunt's dripping down my thighs." He captured your lips in a savage kiss, swallowing your gasp as his fingers worked your clit relentlessly and his cock hammered into your deepest core. "Couldn't get any wetter if I tried." He broke the kiss, panting. "Gonna make you cum just like this… scared and stuffed full of me…"

He was relentless. His hips pistoned against yours in a furious rhythm, driving the air from your lungs with each impact. The headboard wasn't here to slam, but the counter rattled ominously with every powerful thrust. The dual assault on your clit and your G-spot was unbearable. Your knuckle was raw where you bit down. Your vision blurred.

"Sunghoon! I can't— I'm gonna—!" Your warning was a ragged sob.

"Cum!" he commanded, grinding his hips against yours hard, burying himself impossibly deep. "Cum on my cock now!"

The orgasm tore through you like a lightning strike. It was violent, shattering, born as much from terror as pleasure. You arched off the counter with a muffled scream into your hand, your inner walls clamping down in rhythmic spasms around his thick shaft. Stars exploded behind your eyelids as wave after wave of pure sensation obliterated everything else.

He didn't stop. He fucked you through the convulsions, his own control fraying. His groans grew guttural, ragged. He slammed into you two more times, three more times—deep, punishing thrusts that pushed you beyond oversensitivity into a dizzying haze.

"Fuck! Gonna fill you up," he snarled against your neck. With a final, shuddering thrust that forced a broken whimper from you, he buried himself to the root and came. You felt the hot pulse deep inside you, thick and possessive, flooding your depths as he ground against your oversensitive clit one last time.

His release seemed endless, marking you internally as he held himself deep, his body trembling with the force of it against yours.

He collapsed forward slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you gasping for air in the suddenly stifling silence of the bathroom. The sounds of the party seemed distant now, muffled by the door and the roaring in your ears. His softening cock was still buried inside you, his come leaking out around it onto the cold porcelain beneath you.

The evidence of what you'd done—what he'd done to you—was undeniable. He lifted his head slowly, his dark eyes meeting yours in the gloom, heavy with satisfaction and an ownership that felt terrifyingly permanent.

The cool porcelain bit into your bare skin as the aftershocks faded, leaving you boneless and trembling against the counter. Sunghoon’s weight pressed you into the unforgiving surface.

His breath fanned warm and ragged against your sweat-damp neck. For a moment, there was only the harsh sound of your mingled breathing and the muffled thump of music from downstairs. Then, slowly, he shifted, pulling out of you with a slick, obscene sound that made you flinch. A gush of his release followed, trickling down your inner thighs onto the countertop.

He didn’t move far. Instead, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was startlingly soft after the brutality of his possession. It was slow, thorough, tasting of salt and sex. His hand cradled your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. It was a tenderness that felt jarring, dangerous in its intimacy.

"Tomorrow night," he murmured against your lips, his voice husky and low. "Dinner. My place." He pulled back just enough to see your eyes, his gaze heavy-lidded but intensely focused.

You blinked, still dazed, your mind struggling to catch up. The scent of sex was thick in the air, mixing with the faint floral notes of Jisoo’s hand soap. "Dinner?" you echoed, confusion warring with the residual tremors running through your limbs. "Why?"

A slow, lazy smile touched his lips, the one that always felt like a trap and a promise rolled into one. He straightened up, pulling his swim trunks back into place with effortless grace, completely at ease in his nakedness and the evidence of what you'd done. He picked up your ripped panties from the floor, dangling them for a second before tossing them into the small trash can.

"Wanna enjoy your company," he said simply. "Properly. Without interruptions." He reached for a hand towel, dampening it under the tap. "See if you'll let me." His eyes held yours as he began to gently wipe the sticky mess from your inner thighs, the touch clinical yet strangely possessive.

The offer hung in the humid air. Dinner. At his place. After this. The guilt flared, sharp and hot, picturing Jisoo downstairs laughing, unaware. But the memory of his body claiming yours, the sheer intensity of the pleasure he wrung from you, the possessive hunger in his eyes… it drowned out the shame like a tidal wave. He wanted you. Not just for stolen moments in bathrooms. He wanted your company. A shiver that had nothing to do with cold ran through you.

"I…" You hesitated, biting your lower lip. His gaze tracked the movement, darkening. "Okay," you breathed, the word barely audible. "I’d like that."

His smile widened, genuine satisfaction warming his eyes. "Good." He finished cleaning you with surprising care, then helped you slide off the counter. Your legs felt like water, muscles trembling with exertion and the lingering echoes of orgasm. He helped you get dressed again. "Wouldn't want anyone guessing what a mess I just made of you." There was no malice in his tone, only dark amusement and pride.

The reflection in the mirror showed a stranger—hair mussed, eyes overly bright, lips swollen from his kisses and your own teeth. You smoothed the skirt down along with your top, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

Before you could open the door, Sunghoon caught your wrist. He pulled you back for one last, searing kiss—brief but deep. Then his hand landed with a sharp, stinging smack on your ass through the thin fabric of your skirt. "Go on," he ordered, his voice rough. "I'll be right behind you. Smile pretty."

The sting radiated warmth, another claim. You took a shaky breath, unlocked the door, and slipped out into the hallway. The contrast was jarring—the bright light after the dim bathroom and music replacing the intimate sounds of sex and panting breaths. Your legs felt weak, threatening to buckle with each step down the stairs. You gripped the banister tightly, forcing yourself to walk normally, a smile plastered on your face that felt brittle.

You found Jisoo near the sliding doors to the patio, arranging candles on a large chocolate cake. She looked up as you approached, her face lighting with a warm, open smile. "There you are! Thought maybe you got lost." The guilt twisted in your gut, sharper this time. Her trust was like a knife.

"Just needed a minute," you managed, hoping your voice sounded normal. The phantom feel of Sunghoon inside you, the wetness between your thighs, the throbbing where he’d spanked you—it all screamed betrayal. But the memory of his kiss, his invitation… the sheer want he ignited… it simmered beneath the guilt, hotter and more insistent. He wants you. Enjoy it. The thought was reckless, exhilarating.

"Everything okay? You look a little flushed," Jisoo said, her brow furrowing slightly with concern.

"Just warm!" you lied quickly, fanning your face with your hand. "Poolside humidity."

Before she could probe further, Sunghoon descended the stairs. He looked completely composed, freshly confident, a slight smirk playing on his lips as his gaze immediately found yours across the room. It was a look that stripped you bare all over again. Jisoo beamed at him, rushing over.

"There's my birthday boy!" she chirped, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a loud kiss on his cheek. "Took you long enough! We were about to send a search party!" She nestled against his side, looking up at him adoringly.

Jealousy, sharp and acidic, flared white-hot in your chest. It was irrational, possessive. You had just had him buried inside you, had felt him come deep within you, had agreed to dinner at his place. Yet seeing her touch him, claim him so publicly, stung with surprising ferocity. You clenched your fists at your sides, forcing your brittle smile to remain.

Sunghoon returned Jisoo’s hug loosely, his hand resting passively on her back. But his eyes never left yours. They held a challenge, a dark promise, and something possessive that stole your breath. He disengaged gently. "Cake time?" he asked, his voice smooth.

"Light them up!" someone shouted.

Jisoo grabbed a lighter and started lighting the candles, her movements quick and excited. "Make a wish, baby!" she urged as the last flame flickered to life.

The room quieted, everyone turning towards Sunghoon standing beside the glowing cake. Jisoo pressed close to him again, her arm looped through his. He looked down at the candles for a second, the warm light dancing on his handsome features. Then, deliberately, he lifted his gaze. Not to the cake. Not to Jisoo clinging to his arm.

He looked straight at you.

His eyes locked onto yours across the crowded room, intense, knowing, utterly focused. That same possessive smirk tugged at his lips. It felt like a physical touch, a secret shared in the midst of the celebration. He didn't just see you; he claimed you with that look. The jealousy faded, replaced by a dizzying wave of heat and a terrifying sense of inevitability. He wanted you. Despite Jisoo beside him. Despite everything.

He took a breath, never breaking eye contact, and blew. The candles flickered out in a single, decisive puff of air.

And you, caught in the gravity of that stare, found yourself returning his smile. Slowly. Tremulously. A silent surrender to the storm he represented. The tension crackled in the air between you, thick and electric, a current only you two felt amidst the cheers and the happy birthday chorus that began to swell. Jisoo clapped, beaming at him, oblivious to the silent transaction that had just occurred.

Sunghoon finally looked away, accepting her hug, but the ghost of his knowing smile lingered in the air, a promise of the dinner tomorrow and the chaos he was dragging you willingly into.

—

The low thrum of the engine died as you parked outside Sunghoon’s sleek apartment building. Nerves fluttered in your stomach like trapped moths, a stark contrast to the molten heat he’d ignited in you just the day before. You smoothed the soft fabric of your dress—deliberately chosen, something pretty but not trying too hard —and took a steadying breath.

The memory of Jisoo’s arms around him, his eyes locked on yours over the birthday candles, sent a fresh wave of illicit thrill mixed with guilt through you. He wants you here. That knowledge was a beacon in the moral fog.

You buzzed his unit, the electronic chirp loud in the quiet evening. Almost instantly, the door lock clicked open. Taking the elevator up, you rehearsed casual greetings in your head, but they evaporated the moment his door swung inward.

Sunghoon leaned against the frame, silhouetted by the warm glow from within. He wasn't dressed for seduction—dark jeans, a soft-looking grey henley pushed up his forearms—but his presence was instantly magnetic. His gaze swept over you, slow, appreciative, lingering on the neckline of your dress, the curve of your calves beneath the hem.

"Look at you," he murmured. He reached out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips grazed your cheekbone, sending a shiver down your spine despite the warmth of the hallway.

"Pretty." A flush bloomed hot across your chest and neck. His compliments weren't flowery; they were direct, possessive observations that made you feel utterly seen.

Before you could stammer a response, his hand slid to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you towards him. His lips met yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender, yet laced with the underlying intensity you knew so well.

It was a soft kiss, lingering just long enough to steal your breath and remind you of his taste. He broke it slowly, his eyes dark pools reflecting the hall light as he searched your face. "Come on in. Dinner's ready."

He stepped back, ushering you into the warmth and subtle scent of his space. Your eyes immediately went to the dining area where two places were set on a sleek table beside large windows overlooking the city lights just beginning to twinkle.

"Wow," you breathed, stepping further in. "It smells amazing. Did you… cook?" The question held genuine surprise. The image of Sunghoon in an apron seemed incongruous with the man who’d pinned you to a bathroom counter yesterday.

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated pleasantly in the quiet room. He followed you towards the table where platters held perfectly seared steaks, roasted asparagus gleaming with olive oil, and golden-brown potato wedges dusted with herbs. "Guilty as charged," he said, pulling out a chair for you with old-fashioned courtesy that felt strangely natural coming from him. "Hope you're hungry."

Sitting down felt oddly formal after everything. You watched him move around the table, pouring water from a chilled carafe. "Do you cook often?" you asked, picking up your fork, momentarily distracted by the delicious aromas.

He settled into his own seat opposite you. "Only for people I care about," he said simply, meeting your gaze across the flickering candle he’d lit in the center of the table. His expression was open, earnest.

The fork froze halfway to your mouth. Your heart gave a sudden, hard thump against your ribs. The words landed with unexpected weight. After the stolen moments fueled by pure, desperate lust, after the possessiveness that bordered on aggression… this felt different. Vulnerable. "You… care about me?" The question came out softer than intended, tinged with disbelief.

A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, softening the sharp lines of his jaw. "Of course I do. " he said. He held your gaze steadily. "Think I'd go through all this trouble for just anyone?" He gestured vaguely at the table, at the apartment, at himself waiting for you here.

Heat flooded your cheeks again, warmer this time. A confusing rush of emotions tangled in your chest—pleasure warring with guilt, disbelief wrestling with a burgeoning warmth. You’d assumed this connection was purely physical, a dangerous flame destined to burn itself out quickly. This felt… deeper. Riskier. You managed a small smile back. "No," you admitted softly. "I guess not."

He nodded once, seemingly satisfied, and picked up his own fork. "Good. Now eat before it gets cold."

The food was incredible. The steak was cooked to perfection, juicy and flavorful, the potatoes crisp on the outside and fluffy within, the asparagus tender-crisp. "This is delicious, Sunghoon," you complimented after the first few bites, meaning it sincerely. "Seriously."

He just smiled again, a quiet pride in his eyes as he watched you eat. "Glad you like it." The conversation flowed easier then, lighter than you expected. He asked about your work, genuinely listened to your answers about a challenging project. You asked about a scar on his knuckles he’d gotten years ago, and he told the story with wry humor.

You talked about music you both liked, movies you’d seen recently. It was surprisingly… normal. Comfortable. Yet beneath the surface tension hummed—the awareness of why you were really here, the memory of his hands on your body, the forbidden nature of this intimacy.

Eventually, plates were cleared except for crumbs and glistening asparagus stems. You pushed your chair back. "Let me help with these," you offered, gathering your plate and cutlery.

He didn't protest, just nodded towards the open-plan kitchen area adjoining the dining space.

You piled the plates near the sink while he brought over glasses and serving dishes. The kitchen was compact but efficient. You ran hot water in the sink, squirting in soap that foamed with a clean citrus scent. He stood beside you at the counter, rinsing plates before handing them to you to load into the dishwasher rack below.

"You missed a spot," you teased lightly as he handed you a plate still bearing a smear of sauce.

He glanced down, feigning offense. "Did not." He grabbed the spray nozzle, giving the plate a quick blast that sent a fine mist towards you.

"Hey!" You laughed, shielding yourself with a hand, flicking some soap bubbles from your fingers back at him. They landed on his henley sleeve.

He grinned, that rare, open smile that transformed his face. "Serves you right for being critical." He bumped his hip playfully against yours as he reached for another plate.

The contact, even through layers of clothing, sent a familiar jolt through you. You bumped him back gently. "Just trying to maintain standards." You loaded the plate carefully.

He bumped you again, harder this time, making you sway slightly. You retaliated with a nudge of your shoulder against his arm.

Laughter bubbled up easily between you as you worked side-by-side, shoulders brushing, hips bumping playfully every few moments as you moved around each other in the small space. It felt shockingly intimate and domestic—sharing a mundane chore, teasing each other lightly, existing comfortably close. The shared laughter felt like sunshine warming the dangerous edges of your connection.

Finally, the dishwasher was loaded and humming softly. Sunghoon wiped down the countertops with swift efficiency while you dried your hands on a dish towel. He turned, leaning back against the counter, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. The casual stance showcased the breadth of his shoulders beneath the soft fabric.

"Thirsty?" he asked, nodding towards a bottle of amber liquid sitting on a sideboard near the living area.

"Sure," you agreed, feeling pleasantly full and relaxed despite the undercurrents.

He pushed off the counter and retrieved two heavy-bottomed glasses. You followed him into the living room.

As you approached the sofa, a vivid memory slammed into you: kneeling on this very rug, Sunghoon seated where you were about to sit now, his fingers tangled in your hair as he groaned while you took him deep into your throat. The phantom taste of salt and skin bloomed on your tongue.

Heat flooded your face again as you sank onto the far end of the sofa, putting a cushion’s width of space between you and where that memory happened.

Sunghoon poured two generous fingers of bourbon into each glass. He handed one to you, the cool crystal heavy in your hand. Then, instead of sitting on the other side or in a chair, he lowered himself onto the sofa right beside you—close enough that his thigh pressed warmly against yours through your dress.

He stretched his arm along the back of the sofa behind your head. His gaze held yours for a long moment in the dim light cast by a single floor lamp. "Come here," he murmured softly, not a command this time, but an invitation.

Your heart thumped against your ribs as you hesitated for only a second. Then, slowly, you shifted towards him. You turned slightly sideways and lowered your head to rest against his chest. His arm came down from the back of the sofa to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you gently but firmly against his side. His body was solid warmth beneath your cheek, his heartbeat a steady thud against your ear.

His left hand held his own glass near his knee. His right hand… that rested low on your hip, just above your thigh where your dress had ridden up slightly when you sat down. His thumb began a slow, absent-minded sweep back and forth over the thin fabric, tracing the curve of your hip bone. The touch was light, possessive, intimate beyond words.

You sipped your bourbon, savoring its smoky warmth as it traced a fiery path down your throat. The silence was comfortable, thick with unspoken tension and this shocking sense of belonging you felt curled against him. His thumb kept moving on your hip, a silent anchor in the quiet room.

This closeness felt different than anything before—less frantic hunger, more deliberate intimacy. It was terrifying and intoxicating all at once. You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing in his scent feeling strangely safe within his embrace, even as you both knew this fragile peace rested on a knife-edge named Jisoo.

The warmth of the bourbon in your belly radiated outwards, mingling with the heat of his body pressed against yours. You tilted your head back slightly to look up at him.

His gaze was already waiting for you. Dark, intense, stripped of the earlier playful ease, replaced by a familiar smoldering hunger. He wasn’t just looking; he was studying you, tracing the curve of your jaw, the dip of your collarbone, the slight part of your lips. There was a question in his eyes, an invitation, a silent command all rolled into one.

You didn’t look away. You met that dark fire with your own flickering flame, the guilt momentarily drowned by the sheer magnetic pull of him, by the memory of how completely he could unravel you. The air crackled. The distance between your lips felt charged. Slowly he lowered his head.

The kiss started soft, a tentative brush of lips that sent sparks skittering down your spine. It deepened almost instantly, a mutual surrender. His hand left your hip to cradle the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you firmly as his mouth moved over yours with increasing urgency.

This wasn't the gentle kiss from the doorway; this was the hungry, possessive Sunghoon from the bathroom, the one who claimed what he wanted. You kissed him back just as fiercely, tasting the smoky bourbon on his tongue, moaning softly into his mouth as his grip tightened.

He broke the kiss for a ragged breath, his forehead resting against yours, eyes burning into yours. "Up," he commanded, his voice thick and rough. He didn't need to elaborate. You knew. With a shaky inhale, you shifted your weight. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you effortlessly as he leaned back slightly, guiding you to straddle his lap.

The position was achingly familiar. Exactly where you’d been the first time he took you in his apartment, when he’d pulled you onto his lap and things had spiraled into desperate, panting heat right here on this couch.

The memory flooded you—the feel of his hard cock beneath you through his jeans, the scrape of his zipper against your inner thigh.

He saw the recognition flare in your eyes. A dark satisfaction curved his lips as he pulled you flush against him. Your dress rucked up around your thighs, the thin barrier of his jeans and your panties suddenly maddening. He kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue delving deep as one hand slid up your back beneath your dress, searching for the clasp of your bra.

You gasped against his lips as the clasp released. His hand slid around to your front, pushing the lace cups aside roughly. Cool air hit your bared breasts, pebbling your nipples instantly. He broke the kiss, his eyes dropping hungrily to your exposed flesh. His gaze was almost reverent, yet fiercely carnal.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he bent his head. His mouth found the sensitive column of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark you knew you’d struggle to hide tomorrow. You arched against him instinctively, a sharp cry escaping you as his teeth grazed your pulse point. "Sunghoon!"

He ignored your gasp, working his way lower, his tongue tracing a hot, wet path down to the swell of your breast. You were trembling in his lap, overwhelmed by sensation and memory. Reaching blindly for your forgotten glass on the coffee table, you managed to snag it, needing something to ground you.

You took a quick, deep sip of the bourbon, the fiery liquid burning a trail that did nothing to cool the heat pooling between your legs.

Then, an idea sparked—reckless and bold. You pulled back slightly from his assault on your neck. His dark eyes lifted to yours, questioning.

Instead of answering, you leaned in and kissed him again. But this time, you pushed your tongue into his mouth, sharing the smoky sweetness of the bourbon directly from your lips to his. It was an act of intimacy even deeper than before. He groaned, deep and guttural, his arms tightening like steel bands around you as he accepted it, kissing you back with bruising intensity, chasing the taste of the liquor mixed with your own unique flavor.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing raggedly, you placed your half-empty glass firmly back on the table. His eyes never left yours as you reached behind your back with trembling fingers.

Holding his gaze, you slowly pushed the straps of your dress down your shoulders. The fabric pooled around your waist as you wriggled slightly, freeing your arms completely. You were bare from the waist up now in his lap, only the bunched fabric of your dress covering your lower half.

Sunghoon’s gaze raked over you—the curve of your shoulders, the slope of your breasts, the hard peaks of your nipples begging for his touch. His expression was pure predatory hunger mixed with awe. He reached for his own glass still beside him. He brought it to his lips… and paused.

His eyes, dark as obsidian, locked onto yours. A slow, wicked smirk spread across his face. Without breaking eye contact, he deliberately tilted the glass.

Not towards his mouth.

Towards your chest.

A shocked gasp tore from your throat as the cold amber liquid cascaded over your bare breasts. It was a shock against your heated skin, making you flinch and arch back instinctively. Rivulets of bourbon streamed down your cleavage, over the sensitive curves, soaking into the fabric bunched at your waist. The scent—smoky, sweet, expensive—filled the air around you.

"Cold!" you breathed, trembling violently in his lap.

"Shhh," he murmured, his voice rough velvet. He set the empty glass aside with a clink. "Gotta taste it proper." His hands slid up to cup your breasts, slick with bourbon. His thumbs brushed roughly over your taut nipples, making you cry out again. Then he bent his head.

His mouth closed over one bourbon-slicked peak. Not gently. He sucked hard, his tongue swirling around the stiffened bud, licking off the liquor in broad, greedy strokes. The combination was exquisite torture—the cold residue mixing with the heat of his mouth, the rough pull of his suction sending jolts straight to your core. You tangled your hands in his hair, holding him there, moaning brokenly as he devoured one breast.

He switched to the other nipple with a low growl of appreciation, sucking just as fiercely, his tongue flicking and teasing until it was pebble-hard and throbbing in his mouth. He released it with a wet pop, lifting his head slightly. His lips and chin glistened with a mixture of bourbon and saliva.

He cupped both breasts firmly in his large hands now, squeezing them together possessively, pushing them up towards him like an offering. His gaze drank in the sight—your flushed skin gleaming with liquor under the low light, nipples dark and impossibly hard from his ministrations.

"Perfect," he rasped, his voice thick with desire and bourbon. "Fucking perfect tits." He stuck his tongue out slowly, deliberately, and dragged the flat of it in one long, lingering stroke from the underside of one breast right up over the swollen peak.

You whimpered, bucking involuntarily against the hard ridge of his erection straining beneath you through his jeans. You were a moaning mess in his lap, completely at his mercy, slick with bourbon and arousal, every nerve ending screaming for more as he lavished attention on your breasts with his hands and tongue in the dimly lit intimacy of his living room.

The sensation was overwhelming, unbearable. His mouth, hot and demanding on your slick skin, his tongue laving your nipple with rough, deliberate strokes while his hand squeezed and molded your other breast.

Every pull of his lips sent shockwaves of pure need straight to your core, molten and desperate. You couldn't stay still. Instinct took over, a primal rhythm starting deep within you. Hips lifting slightly in his lap, you ground down against the thick, unyielding ridge straining against the denim of his jeans.

A low groan vibrated against your breast as you moved. You arched your back, throwing your head back in abandon, a moan ripping from your throat as the friction sent sparks skittering along every nerve.

The rough texture of his jeans scraped deliciously against the thin silk of your panties, against the swollen, sensitive flesh beneath. Up and down, slow then faster, you rode the hard line of him, seeking that perfect pressure that promised oblivion.

Sunghoon lifted his head from your breast with a wet gasp. His hands slid to grip your hips, stilling your movements for a moment. He leaned back against the sofa cushions, his gaze sweeping over you—face flushed, eyes dark with desire, hair tumbling wildly around your shoulders, bare breasts glistening with his saliva and traces of bourbon, hips cradled against his own aching hardness. The raw hunger in his expression was almost feral, but beneath it burned something else—a fierce possessiveness that stole your breath.

"You're beautiful," he rasped, the words low and rough and something deeper, more profound than mere lust. "Look at you... fucking beautiful like this."

The unexpected tenderness slammed into you harder than any thrust. Your heart gave a wild, painful leap against your ribs. It wasn't the crude praise he sometimes offered in the heat of the moment; this felt raw, sincere. It cracked open something vulnerable inside you, making your throat tighten. Your grinding ceased entirely as you stared back at him, stunned by the emotion blazing in his dark eyes.

He saw the shock, the vulnerability mirrored in your expression. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward slowly, deliberately.

This kiss wasn't like any before. His lips met yours with startling gentleness. Soft, searching, achingly slow. His tongue traced the seam of your lips not to invade, but to invite. It was a kiss that spoke of something more than just physical need; it was a caress, a quiet claiming of a different kind.

Your head swam. The contrast was dizzying—the visceral memory of his mouth on your breast, the slick friction still tingling between your legs, the rough grip on your hips, now juxtaposed with this impossibly tender exploration of your mouth. It blurred lines, deepened the connection in ways that felt terrifying and intoxicating.

A soft whimper escaped you as you melted into him, surrendering to the confusing swell of emotion mixed with unrelenting arousal.

Your arms, which had been braced against his chest, slid up and around his broad shoulders, fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape. You kissed him back with matching softness, pouring the tumult inside you—the desire, the surprise, the burgeoning warmth—into the press of your lips.

He felt the shift, the yielding. His hand on your hip slid around to cradle the small of your back, pulling you even tighter against him. The kiss deepened fractionally, still tender but infused with a building intensity, a silent promise of what was to come.

Then, in one fluid, powerful motion, his arms tightened under your thighs and around your back. He stood up effortlessly from the sofa, lifting you with him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, clinging tight.

The movement jolted you, your bare breasts pressing against the soft cotton of his henley. Your dress remained bunched around your waist, leaving you exposed from the waist up as he carried you.

He didn't say a word. His eyes held yours for a heartbeat, dark and intense, reflecting the low lamplight and the chaotic storm within you both. Then he turned, walking with purposeful strides away from the living room.

His strides were long and sure as he carried you down a short hallway. The only sounds were his booted footsteps on the hardwood and your own ragged breathing against his neck. You nuzzled into the warm skin there, breathing in his scent feeling utterly possessed and strangely cherished.

The domestic intimacy of dinner felt like a lifetime ago, replaced by this raw, tender urgency as he carried you towards his bedroom, towards the inevitable culmination of a tension that had crackled between you since the moment you walked through his door.

The soft give of his mattress met your back as Sunghoon lowered you onto it. Your dress was a forgotten puddle at the foot of the bed; only your damp panties remained, a flimsy barrier he dealt with in one swift, rough motion. The tear of delicate fabric was loud in the sudden quiet.

His hands were everywhere then. Palms slid down your sides, thumbs digging into the soft flesh of your hips hard enough to make you gasp. His mouth followed a scorching path from your collarbone down to your stomach, teeth scraping lightly before sinking into the tender skin just above your hip bone.

You cried out, arching off the bed as the sharp bite ignited a fresh wave of heat between your legs. He soothed the spot with his tongue, lapping at it almost apologetically before moving lower, repeating the process on the other side.

Marks, you knew. Dark, blooming bruises you’d find tomorrow, reminders of who owned this flesh tonight.

Then his fingers found your center. You were already soaked, swollen, aching for him. One thick finger plunged into you, deep and demanding. A choked sob escaped you as he curled it, finding that perfect spot instantly.

"Fuck, Sunghoon!" He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously, scissoring them slightly before setting a ruthless rhythm—deep, curling thrusts that dragged against your inner walls, sparking bright shards of pleasure that made your thighs tremble and your back bow off the bed.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice rough sandpaper against your skin as he watched his fingers disappear into your slick heat again and again. "So goddamn greedy for it. Soaking my hand." His thumb found your clit, circling it firmly, relentlessly, matching the punishing pace of his fingers.

Pleasure coiled tight in your belly, winding tighter and tighter with each thrust, each rough circle. Stars burst behind your eyelids as your orgasm ripped through you, violent and all-consuming. You screamed his name, bucking wildly against his hand as wave after wave crashed over you, leaving you gasping and boneless on the sheets.

He didn’t stop immediately, letting you ride out the last tremors on his fingers. Then, slowly, he withdrew them. He brought his glistening fingers to his lips in the dim moonlight, his dark eyes locked on yours as he deliberately sucked them clean. A low hum vibrated in his chest. "Sweet," he murmured, the word thick and satisfied. "Taste like heaven and sin mixed together."

Before you could fully catch your breath, he was moving. He shoved his jeans and briefs down just enough to free himself. The sight of him, thick and rigid, the head glistening with pre-come, sent a fresh jolt of desperate need through your spent body. He gripped his cock at the base, giving it a slow, deliberate stroke as he positioned himself between your thighs.

"Gotta fill you up now," he stated, the raw need in his voice making your core clench anew. He guided the broad head to your entrance, slick with your own arousal and his taste still on his tongue. He pressed forward.

A sharp gasp tore from you. God. No matter how many times you took him, that initial stretch always stole your breath. It was a sweet, burning pressure, a momentary sense of being impossibly filled before your body yielded and eagerly accepted him. He sank into you inch by agonizing inch with a low, guttural groan that seemed ripped from his soul. "Tight little thing... takes me so fucking good..."

Once fully sheathed, he paused for a heartbeat, buried to the hilt inside you, letting you feel the overwhelming fullness. Then he began to move. Slow, deep, deliberate thrusts at first, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in with relentless force. Each stroke dragged against your oversensitive inner walls, reigniting the embers of your climax into fresh flames.

His dirty talk was a constant, low rumble against your ear, punctuating every powerful thrust. "That's it... take that cock... all of it... fucking perfect cunt...gonna breed you so deep..." His words were crude, possessive arrows hitting their mark, amplifying every sensation until you were writhing beneath him, incoherent whimpers falling from your lips as he built you back towards the edge.

He fucked you through another shattering climax, your nails raking down his back as you cried out, clenching around him impossibly tight. Only then did his rhythm falter slightly, a groan escaping him as your spasms milked him. But he didn't stop.

"Up," he commanded gruffly, his voice strained. He pulled out abruptly, leaving you feeling hollow and gasping. Before you could protest, his strong hands gripped your waist, flipping you onto your hands and knees with effortless strength. "No," he corrected himself instantly, giving your hip a firm slap that made you jump. "On top. Wanna watch."

Understanding flooded you. Still trembling from your climax, you pushed yourself up onto shaky knees. He lay back against the pillows, propped up slightly, his cock standing proud and slick against his abdomen. His eyes were black pools of hunger in the moonlight, fixed on you as you straddled his hips.

Reaching between you, he gripped himself firmly, guiding the swollen head back to your soaked entrance. You sank down slowly, taking him inch by torturous inch, biting your lip at the renewed stretch. He watched, mesmerized, as his thick cock disappeared inside you, swallowed by your body.

"Fuck," he breathed, the word reverent and raw. His hands settled on your hips like vices. "Look at that... watching you take every fucking inch..." His gaze was transfixed on the point where your bodies joined. "Ride me, baby. Show me how bad you need it."

You braced your hands on his hard chest and began to move. Up and down, grinding your hips in slow circles when you were fully seated, relishing the deep, internal pressure that felt like he was touching your soul. His grip tightened on your hips, guiding your rhythm now, urging you faster, deeper.

"Just like that," he groaned, his head falling back against the pillow for a moment before snapping up to watch again, mesmerized by the slick glide of his cock moving in and out of you.

"See how deep you take me? Fuck... riding my cock like you were born for it..." His thumbs dug into your hip bones as he met your downward thrusts with an upward surge of his own hips, driving himself impossibly deeper with every stroke. The room filled with the wet sounds of your joining and his low, continuous groans of pleasure, urging you on as you rode him hard.

"Fuck, yes… just like that," Sunghoon growled, his voice roughened by lust, his eyes black pools of hunger fixed on your bouncing breasts. His large hands clamped onto your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises as he guided your rhythm, lifting you and slamming you back down onto his thick shaft with ruthless precision.

The wet, filthy sound of your bodies connecting filled the room, punctuated by your ragged gasps and his guttural groans. He released one hip, his palm cracking sharply against your ass cheek. The stinging slap sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to your core. You cried out, arching your back, clenching involuntarily around his cock buried to the hilt.

"Louder," he commanded, delivering another stinging smack to the other cheek. "Wanna hear how much you love this cock. How much you need it."

"God, Sunghoon!" you sobbed, the pain-pleasure blurring your vision. You were unraveling, every nerve ending alight. "It’s… it’s so deep… so good…"

"Yeah it is," he rasped, sitting up slightly to capture a nipple in his hot mouth, sucking hard through the thin fabric of your camisole. He bit down gently, making you whimper. "Your greedy little cunt wrapped around me," His free hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, relentless circles. "Gonna make you cum all over me again. Show me how much you love being mine."

You were babbling nonsense, lost in the onslaught of sensation—the stretch, the burn of his slaps, the maddening pressure on your clit. The world narrowed to the feel of him impaling you.

The bedroom door flew open with a bang that shattered the haze.

"Sunghoon? Baby, I—"

Jisoo.

Your body went rigid with shock. Sunghoon froze beneath you, his grip on your hip tightening almost painfully. You scrambled off him with a choked gasp, collapsing onto the bed beside him, desperately yanking the tangled sheet over your naked lower half. Your back had been to the door, but there was no hiding what had just been happening.

Jisoo stood frozen in the doorway, her face a mask of utter devastation. Her wide eyes darted from Sunghoon’s bare, sweat-sheened chest and the obvious outline of his still-hard cock under the sheet, to your tear-streaked, flushed face and trembling body.

"What…?" Her voice was a broken whisper. Then it cracked wide open. "What the FUCK is this?!" The raw pain and betrayal in her scream made you flinch. "Sunghoon?! What are you DOING?!" She looked directly at you, her gaze scalding. "You… you helped me! You listened to me cry about him! And you were… you've been fucking him?!"

Sunghoon didn’t even try to cover himself further. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, his expression utterly bored, a stark contrast to the violent intimacy of moments before. He met Jisoo’s furious gaze with cool indifference. "Looks like you got eyes, Jisoo."

The casual cruelty stole your breath. Jisoo staggered back a step as if physically struck. "You invited me over! Was that just… just so I could see this?!" Her voice trembled with disbelief and rising fury.

He shrugged one shoulder, a lazy, infuriating gesture. "Figured you'd see it eventually." His eyes flickered towards you for a second, dark and possessive, before returning to Jisoo. "Saved us all the trouble of an awkward conversation later."

Jisoo made a strangled sound. Tears streamed down her face now, smudging her makeup. She looked from Sunghoon’s impassive face to yours, her expression shifting from heartbreak to pure, venomous disgust aimed squarely at you. "You… you bitch," she hissed, the words dripping poison. "You deserve each other." Without another word, she spun on her heel and fled down the hallway, her choked sobs echoing back.

The silence that followed was deafening, thick with shock and guilt and the lingering scent of sex. You scrambled off the bed, legs still shaky. "Jisoo! Wait!" You took a step towards the door, shame burning through you like acid. You had to explain… something… anything.

A strong hand closed around your wrist, yanking you back. You stumbled against the bed.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Sunghoon demanded, pulling you down until you were sprawled half-across his lap.

"To talk to her! To… to explain!" you stammered, trying to pull away. "She's hurt! We have to—"

"There's nothing to explain," he cut in flatly, his grip tightening. His other hand slid under the sheet you’d wrapped around yourself, pushing it aside with brutal efficiency. His erection was still rampant, flushed and angry against his stomach. "She saw what she needed to see. And I," he emphasized, his gaze locking onto yours with terrifying intensity, "haven't cum yet."

The blunt reminder of his arousal, coupled with the possessive fury in his eyes, sent a confusing jolt straight through your core. Fear warred with the traitorous heat that never fully left when he was near.

"But… Sunghoon… she—"

"But nothing," he growled. He shifted suddenly, flipping you onto your back on the mattress with startling strength. Before you could protest further, he was looming over you, knees forcing your thighs wide apart.

His hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he positioned himself at your soaked entrance. There was no tenderness, no preamble. With one powerful thrust of his hips, he buried himself back inside you to the hilt.

"Ah! GOD!" The sudden invasion stole your breath. It was too much—too soon after the shock, too deep, too intense—yet your body instantly clenched around him, betraying you completely.

"Yeah," he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction as he began to move, setting a punishing pace immediately. Deep, hard strokes that pushed the air from your lungs with each impact.

"That's it… fuck… still so tight for me." His hand slid from your hair to grip your throat lightly, not choking, but claiming. "Best fuck I've ever had," he rasped against your ear as he pistoned into you. "This greedy little pussy… taking me like it was made just for my cock." He slammed home particularly hard, making you cry out. "Wanna be buried in it every damn day."

Tears spilled over—shame, confusion, overwhelming sensation—but he caught them with his lips, kissing them away with a tenderness that was grotesquely at odds with the brutal way he was fucking you.

"Perfect," he murmured against your wet cheekbone. "Crying on my cock… so fucking beautiful." He drove into you relentlessly, the headboard slamming rhythmically against the wall. He gasped, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest. "Right here… buried balls-deep in your sweet cunt."

The friction, the sheer size of him stretching you, the overwhelming dominance of his body pinning you down… it was too much. The coil in your belly snapped violently. "Sunghoon! I'm cumming! Please!" Your scream was ragged as orgasm ripped through you, clamping down on his invading length in pulsing waves.

He didn't slow down. Didn't stop. He fucked you straight through your climax, his rhythm becoming even more savage as he chased his own release. "Yeah… take it… milk my cock dry," he snarled. His hand tightened fractionally on your throat. "Be my girl."

The words slammed into you harder than his hips. "What?" you gasped, dazed and trembling beneath him.

"My girlfriend," he demanded, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust that made you see stars. "Say yes."

The insanity of it—moments after Jisoo fled in tears—warred with the primal need he stoked in your core. The pleasure was overwhelming, obliterating reason. His dark eyes held yours captive.

"Yes!" you sobbed, arching helplessly under him. "Yes!"

A savage groan tore from his throat. "Mine," he declared possessively. He slammed into you one final time, burying himself impossibly deep as he came. You felt the hot flood of his release filling you, pulsing inside your spasming channel as he ground against your clit. He held himself there for long moments, shuddering above you, his release mixing with yours in a messy claim.

Finally, spent, he collapsed heavily onto you, crushing you into the mattress. His lips brushed your sweaty temple as his breathing slowly steadied. The silence returned, heavy now not just with sex, but with the weight of what had been shattered and what had been brutally forged in its place. His arm tightened around you possessively. There was no going back now.