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beargyu313 · 15 days ago

Text

cliffside

Love is so blind, it feel’s right when it’s wrong

˚.🎀༘⋆ Summary: what was supposed to be a quiet retreat turns into an unforgettable romance with a man almost twice your age (or the story of how your boyfriend’s dad seduces you). ྀ. 𐙚 ̊ Word count: 17.5k

ᵎ!ᵎ⭑.ᐟᵎ!cw: cheating !!! don’t read if uncomfortable !!!! mentions of food throughout the whole thing (they will nawt be hungry), also I do not encourage big age gap relationship irl, this is a fictional and heavily ROMANTICIZED story (ladies don’t let older guys take advantage of you !!)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

��˚࿔ Tags: MDNI – smut (it’s basically pwp), soft power dynamics, forced proximity, boyfriend’s dad (meaning cheating – don’t read if u don’t like it), age gap (OC is 27, Sunghoon is in very late 30’s!), one bed trope, doting and dom!Sunghoon,, 𓆝

⋆smut tags: corruption kink, undertones of ddlg (no use of daddy), heavy petting, groping, spanking, possessive and obsessive Sunghoon !! (but he’s not acting like a freak), choking, brat-tamer!Sunghoon, praise kink

⋆˙♪ Playlist: LDR – norman fucking rockwell + Baekhyun – delight

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ A/N: was this plot just an excuse to write 17k Sunghoon smut? YES lmfaoo. My reqs are currently OPEN for Niki, Sunghoon and Jake, pleeeease request something (I don’t mind detailed reqs, because I’m not writing anything atm and would love a new project) 𓆝 also I’m opening an AO3 account by the end of the month 🦭ིྀ

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

You’re holding onto your seatbelt as your boyfriend Jihoon speeds over the winding road up the hill.

“Slow down,” you tell him, knowing it’s in vain.

You’d only been together for six months, and this was supposed to be your first real couple’s retreat. The plan had sounded romantic— staying at his dad’s remote cabin, no cell service, time to unwind, just the two of you—but right now, you’re gripping the handle on the door and trying to bite your tongue as the car takes another sharp curve.

He exhales sharply, like your voice is a burden. “We’re literally ten minutes away.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Oh my god,” he mutters. “What is the point, then? That I’m not driving the way you like?”

You glance at him. He hasn’t looked at you once since you got in the car.

“I’m trying to talk to you,” you say quietly. “You’ve been on edge since we left.”

“I’ve been on edge?” he laughs, humorless. “You’re the one who quit your job and suddenly needed a ‘healing escape.’”

You go still. The words hit harder than they should.

“I told you why I left.”

“Right. Because it was ‘toxic.’” He throws air quotes around the word with one hand while the other grips the wheel. “Or maybe you just couldn’t the real world.”

Silence drops like a rock between you.

You stare out the window, jaw tight. Trees blur by—dark pines, broken sunlight. The air feels heavier than it should.

He sighs again. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying, not everything is a crisis.”

“I didn’t ask for a crisis,” you murmur. “I asked for support.”

He doesn’t respond.

Not when the road evens out. Not when the trees thin and the sea appears in the distance, glittering like glass. Not even when the outline of the cliffside cabin comes into view—tucked into green and shadow like it was built to disappear.

Jihoon pulls into the gravel clearing with a crunch of tires. The cabin stands just ahead—smaller than you imagined, all warm wood and deep shadows, the ocean visible just beyond the slope. It’s stupidly beautiful here. It almost makes you more angry.

He doesn’t bother to put the car in park before saying, “Well. We made it.”

You sit still. The air between you is thick with things unsaid.

“I guess we did,” you say.

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at the rearview mirror like he's already thinking about leaving. “Do you want help bringing your stuff in or…”

“No,” you cut in. “I’ve got it.”

That finally gets his attention. He turns toward you, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “It means I think we need space. A break. Just a few days.”

His mouth pulls into that condescending half-smile you’ve grown to hate. “So what, you’re kicking me out?”

“I’m asking you to give me time to think,” you say, voice calm but tight. “I came here to breathe. You don’t want to be here anyway.”

He scoffs. “Wow. Alright then.”

You open the door and step out before he can say anything else. The gravel shifts beneath your shoes as you head to the trunk. He doesn’t move to help you—not a step.

You drag your suitcase out, the wheels catching on rock and dirt.

When you turn back, Jihoon’s already behind the wheel again. Sunglasses on. Expression unreadable.

You pause. Half of you expects him to get out anyway. To walk over. Say something. Fight for this.

But he doesn’t.

He raises one hand in a lazy wave. “Enjoy your break, I guess.”

And then he hits the gas.

The car kicks up dust and pebbles as it speeds off, tires whining slightly on the curve. You watch the taillights shrink and vanish down the hill. Just like that, he’s gone.

Melancholy creeps into you like a shadow, sighing you can’t help but judge yourself. Really, what were you thinking going for a younger guy. And yeah, maybe 5 years wasn’t that much but as your 27th birthday approaches you somehow wish Jihoon could be more mature, less selfish. You shake the thought away and tightly grip your suitcase.

The wind rises a little, brushing your hair into your face. There’s no one around. No sound but the gulls and the faint hush of waves crashing far below.

The sound of your steps crunching down on the gravel is loud compared to the quiet hush of the nature around you.

You look at the cabin again. And someone is standing in the doorway.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. White shirt sleeves pushed to the elbows.

You squint against the sun. Then recognize him.

Mr. Park. Jihoon’s father.

He steps out onto the porch, bootsteps slow and deliberate. You’ve met him once before, at a dinner—Jihoon had barely let you talk, but Mr. Park had been polite, distant. Watchful.

Now, he looks at your suitcase. Then at you. His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes sharpen.

“Did Jihoon just leave you here alone?” he asks and you can tell he’s angry at his son.

You exhale through your nose. “Apparently I needed a break.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then so quietly you think you imagined it, “He’s more like his mother than I thought.”

You blink. You don’t know how to answer that.

Mr. Park glances at the suitcase again, then back to your face.

“You staying the week?”

You nod. “That was the plan.”

He tilts his head toward the open door.

“Then come inside. Wind’s picking up,” he states, as he bends ever so slightly and reaches for your suitcase. His fingers brush against yours as he grabs hold of the suitcase. You let him. But you’re still hesitating, stuck to the same spot on the driveway.

He notices.

“I don’t bite,” he says, and the corner of his mouth lifts just slightly. Not quite a smile. Not quite a joke.

Then he turns and walks back into the cabin—like he knows you’ll follow.

And you do, eyes lingering on the subtle shift of his shoulders beneath his shirt.

If that dinner months ago was any indication, he’s a man of few words. Quiet, intense. Unreadable.

It didn’t help that you also thought he was very good looking. Long, black hair tucked behind one ear, a few strands falling across sharp cheekbones. Thin silver glasses framing his eyes, drawing attention to the thick brows that make his expression look serious—even when he’s relaxed.

He looks like someone who doesn’t speak unless it matters. Someone who sees more than he lets on.

And now you’re stuck in a cabin with him.

A cabin you thought would be empty. Jihoon never mentioned his dad was here.

Kicking off your shoes on the porch, you follow Mr. Park inside.

The inside of the cabin is warmer than you expected. Not just in temperature, but in tone—like someone curated comfort instead of just decorating it.

The floor is rich in dark wood and worn slightly in the center like it's been walked barefoot a hundred times. A plush sofa stretches across one side of the open-plan living area, upholstered in a deep jade green that catches the light from the tall windows. A few burnt orange cushions are scattered along its length—just enough color to feel intentional.

The kitchen is minimalist but modern. Clean black stone countertops. Matte brown cabinetry. Pans hanging above the stove, catching glints of sunlight through the trees outside. There’s a teapot already out on the burner—old but polished, like it gets used daily.

A single spiral staircase in wrought iron and wood winds upward to the lofted bedroom, perched just above the living space. It has no door—just a wooden railing and a clean sightline to the floor below.

You can see the bed from where you’re standing. It’s large, maybe a queen, with a low frame and linen sheets in soft earth tones. Moss green. Warm gray. A single burnt orange throw draped carelessly across the foot.

There’s no real privacy, not with the open layout. You can already imagine the sounds of footsteps on the stairs, the creak of bedsprings, even the breath of someone turning over in the night.

The whole place smells faintly of cedar, citrus, and coffee.

It’s domestic. Intimate. A little too intimate, maybe.

“Um-“

“So,” you two start speaking at the same time.

You glance at each other. You offer a tight laugh.

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

He shakes his head. “Ladies first.”

You shift your bag higher on your shoulder. “I was just going to ask… would I be, um, in your way? I mean, I didn’t know anyone else would be here.”

His gaze flicks toward your suitcase. “You’re not in my way.”

A beat. You’re not sure what to do with your hands. “Jihoon didn’t mention you’d be staying here.”

He gives the faintest shrug. “I didn’t know he was planning on coming either.”

You nod slowly, not sure how to respond.

“I usually come up for a few weeks every summer,” he adds. “To work, it’s nice and quiet here, no buzz of the city.”

“It is nice,” you say as you glance around again, avoiding looking in Mr. Park’s eyes. But you can feel his gaze on you. It’s making you squirm and you start overthinking everything. From your clothes, to your hair and down to your makeup.

“It grows on you,” he says, finally tearing his eyes off you.

Another pause. You try to find something to say. Something neutral.

“I like the colors,” you say finally. “All the… green. And wood. It feels… warm.”

He almost smiles. “That was my doing. The decorator wanted everything to be white and steel.”

You blink. “Wait. You picked the throw pillows?”

His eyes crinkle just slightly. “I’m not a savage.”

That makes you laugh, even though you try to stifle it. His gaze lingers on the sound. It softens something in his face.

Then he nods toward your bag. “You want tea? Or coffee?”

“Tea would be nice,” you say.

“I’ll get your things upstairs.”

You protest, “Oh, it’s fine, really—”

But he’s already moving.

“I’ll set it by the railing,” he says over his shoulder. “You’ll be able to see everything from up there.”

Including him, you think—but you don’t say it.

He disappears up the steps, feet thudding lightly against the polished wood. You hear the creak of the loft floor above you, and then silence.

You glance around the living room again, unsure what to do with yourself. The couch is a soft, worn leather. A stack of books sits on the coffee table. Nature. Photography. One novel with a cracked spine.

The kettle whistles from the kitchen, sharp and sudden.

You reach for it, but Mr. Park is already coming back down the stairs.

“I’ve got it,” he says.

You step back instinctively. He moves past you, not touching you, but close enough that you feel his presence, his warmth.

You silently move into the kitchen with him and watch him as he pours the hot water, slides the mug towards you and then fixes his own tea as well.

Chamomile tea with no sugar, just the way you like it.

“Oh, thank you,” you softly say as you wrap both of your hands around the cup and bring it up to your lips, blowing gently.

Mr. Park doesn’t reply, just continues moving around the kitchen. Opens the fridge. Pulls out vegetables, eggs, a small bundle of herbs wrapped in twine.

You hover for a moment. Then, ask uncertain.

“Do you want help?”

He glances back, his dark locks falling onto his cheekbones. You almost want to fix the bothersome strands, but suppress the itch to have an excuse to touch him. He is your boyfriend’s dad for god’s sake!

“No need. You’ve had a long trip.”

You offer a faint smile, trying to make it casual. “Not exactly the couple’s retreat I imagined.”

That earns you a low, dry sound. Almost a laugh. And against yourself you’re pleased.

He turns back to the cutting board. Begins to chop in precise, even strokes. Everything about him is deliberate. Controlled.

Then, without looking up he asks. “He left you up here alone?” only it wasn’t really a question.

You pause. “…He was upset. We argued.”

Sunghoon hums, neutral, but not quite, “He’s always been impulsive.”

A brief glance your way.

“Didn’t inherit that from me.” The words are clipped. Measured. Sharper than the knife he’s holding.

You hesitate. “You two aren’t close?”

He shrugs.

“Not the way I’d like. He doesn’t… think before he acts.” His voice is calm, but there’s weight behind it. History.

You tuck your hands under your thighs. “I guess I was hoping this trip would… reset things.”

He finally looks at you—really looks.

“You deserve more than hoping.”

Sunghoon continues cooking and you continue drinking tea as you try not to stare at him. You tell yourself to look away. Instead, your eyes trace the flex of his forearms as he works. The slow rhythm of the blade. The subtle tilt of his head as he concentrates.

You’re still staring when he speaks.

“See something you like?”

Your stomach drops.

He doesn’t look at you. Just slides chopped zucchini into a pan like he didn’t say anything at all.

You blink. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

“Vegetables,” he says smoothly, mouth quirking. “I meant the vegetables.”

You let out a short laugh. Your cheeks are too warm. You take a sip of tea to mask it.

He finally meets your gaze. His expression is unreadable—but something in it lingers, like a touch you weren’t expecting.

“I’m making it for us,” he says. “Hope you’re hungry.”

The food is comforting. Warm rice, sautéed vegetables, the kind of seasoning that makes you pause for just a second, surprised it’s this good. You’re halfway through your bowl when the quiet between you stretches too long, and you feel the need to fill it.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “This is... really good.”

Mr. Park nods once. “Simple’s best up here. No delivery. No distractions.”

You glance at the windows, where the sun’s started to dip lower behind the trees. The silence out here feels different. Like it listens.

You clear your throat. “So… about the sleeping arrangements.”

He looks up at you, expression unreadable.

You add quickly, “I mean, I know you said I could take the bed, but I don’t want to—”

“You won’t, the couch isn’t suitable for sleeping anyway,” he interrupts gently. “Doesn’t stretch out.”

You blink. “Oh. Right. Of course. I didn’t know.”

His gaze lingers. “It’s not a problem. The bed fits two.”

You hesitate. “Mr. Park, I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“Sunghoon,” he says, voice low but firm. “Call me Sunghoon.”

You look at him. That subtle edge of command in his tone—not aggressive, not inappropriate. Just... sure. Your stomach flips.

“Okay. Sunghoon,” you softly say, his name heavy on your tongue. Like you’re saying a bad word. Forbidden.

His eyes stay on you a moment too long as if he can feel it too. Feel your unspoken desire. You fidget in your chair, his eyes piercing.

Then, just like that, he stands, collecting the dishes with easy efficiency. You rise to help, but he waves you off.

“I’ve got it. But…” He pauses at the fridge. “Do you want dessert?”

You blink. “You have dessert?”

“Kind of.” He opens the freezer. “One popsicle left.”

You let out a soft laugh. “We can split it.”

He tears the wrapper and hands you the stick. You take it, a bit taken aback that he unwrapped it for you. So far Sunghoon was being really caring towards you and you couldn’t tell if he’s being like this because he’s so much older than you and instinctively wants to take care of you specifically or if he’s always like this and it doesn’t mean anything.

Your lips wrap around the cold stick, the cold sharp and sweet on your tongue. You hear Sunghoon open the tap as he starts washing up. By the time he’s done you’re halfway done with the popsicle.

Sunghoon sits down on the sofa, right next to you as he watches the way your cheeks dip as you suckle and bite on the stick. Eyes dark, lids heavy and legs spread. But you don’t notice as you absent mindedly scroll through TV channels.

“Would you like some?” you innocently ask, “thought we said we’d split it?” only to almost drop the cold stick when you turn to look at him. Heat spreads through you like wildfire.

Sunghoon is sitting down on the couch looking like pure sex. Glasses sliding down his nose, hair a bit messy from brushing it back and heavy-lidded. Without hesitation, he slowly leans in and wraps his lips around the same spot your lips had just touched.

His mouth is slow as he softly bites down on what’s left of the popsicle. Hand wrapped around the same stick you’re holding. Deliberate. The wet sound of his tongue and the quiet sucking goes straight down to your core.

“I don’t mind sharing,” he says, dark eyes on you.

When he pulls back, he licks a faint drip from the corner of his mouth. The slow drag of his tongue as he pulls away makes you forget what you were about to say.

You stare at him. You can’t help it.

The air feels heavier now. Warmer. Intimate in a different way. He takes one last bite, then tosses the stick into the trash like nothing happened.

“You should get some rest,” he murmurs. “You can unpack tomorrow.”

You nod, fingers still cold from holding the popsicle. Mouth still warm from watching him.

And when you finally climb the stairs to the open loft, you know exactly what you’ll be thinking about when you try to sleep.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟

You wake up sweaty and sticky. Annoyed, you try to shake the duvet off but freeze as you feel the warmth behind you. Sunghoon is sprawled out next to you, his glasses on the bedside table. He’s not touching you, but with how closely he’s snuggled to you he might as well be.

You chuck the duvet off yourself, but do your best so it stays as it was on Sunghoon and let yourself fall back asleep.

The next time you wake to a steady rhythmic beat under you. You cuddle into the it, the sound calming you further into a daze. But then you register strong arms draped over you, hugging you protectively. And you realize you’re literally laying down on Sunghoon’s chest.

His arms tighten around you when he feels you waking up.

“Finally up, huh,” he mumbles, but his voice is kind. Sleep still seeping into it.

“Didn’t want to move and wake you, sorry,” he tells you and lets you roll off him.

“Sorry,” you squeal, face turning red, “hope I didn’t droll, I’m not usually the cuddling type.”

“No? S’kay, I didn’t mind it,” Sunghoon tells you as if it was nothing and starts getting ready for the day.

You’re still hiding your face behind the duvet as you listen to his quiet shuffle around the small loft. It is only when you hear the front door shut that you force yourself to get up too.

The morning is spent in quiet solitude that you invite with open arms, enjoying the scenery. You prepare yourself a simple breakfast and a tea to go along with it. As you sip on it you see Sunghoon outside, taking photos. And that’s when you remember Jihoon telling you his dad did photography.

You go back upstairs to unpack and change out of your pajamas. It’s true that it was summer, but the mountain air was a bit chillier so you decide on an oversized sweater, shorts and knee socks.

As you go out, you look around for Sunghoon, slightly jogging up to him when you spot him just off the trail. Near the forest. The sun is high up in the sky and Sunghoon has his camera raised, gaze narrowed like he’s tracking something invisible. A gull wheels overhead. His finger clicks the shutter.

"You're out early," you say, a little breathless from jogging. You brush your hair out of your face.

He turns at the sound of your voice. His eyes take you in—sweater hanging off one shoulder, the soft skin of your thighs above those socks—and there’s a flicker of something there. But just as quick as you notice it, it’s gone.

"Best light doesn’t wait. You want to try?" he asks.

"Really?" you ask, already shuffling closer to him.

Sunghoon watches you as he gruffly tells you, "come here."

He pauses when you leave some polite space between the two of you.

"Closer," he tells you, opening his chest as he indicates he wants you to come directly against his chest. You gulp as you move, his broad stature engulfing you as he put his arms around you and holds the camera in front of you.

"I’ve never held one like this before," you tell him, your heart racing at the proximity.

Sunghoon quietly chuckles, "that much is obvious. Relax your grip—you’re choking it," his hand over your, softly fixing your fingers.

"Sorry—"

"No need to apologize. Just let me guide you," and you do, his fingers guide you, as his breath caresses your neck. And you have to suppress a shiver when he quietly speaks next, his voice right next to your ear, breath tickling your neck.

"Tilt your wrists like this... yeah. Just like that. Feel better?"

"A little," you rasp and you swear his voice sounds deeper than before. You feel a warm buzzing seep from your inner thighs and try your best to will the thoughts away.

"Don’t overthink it. Let the camera rest in your hands. Let it want to be touched," he speaks, his hands moving from your wrists up your arms and settling on your shoulders as he watches you click away.

You softly chuckle in hopes of dissipating tension"you’re making it sound... kind of dirty."

"Is that how you’re hearing it?" he asks, not bothered in the slightest, but his hands on your shoulders start applying pressure – almost in warning.

"I didn’t mean—" you fumble for words, panic shooting through you. How was he always so calm?

"Mm. Focus here. Look through the viewfinder. Keep your hands steady," he cuts you off. His face is right next to your as he looks into the viewfinder.

"Breathe in," he proffers.

A beat passes as you breathe in and you swear heat builds between you. But only his hands touch you, their weight a constant reminder of how close he is.

"Now exhale slowly. Feel that? How everything sharpens when you stop fighting it?"

"Yeah..." you say, your voice coming out in a quiet breath. You shuffle in your spot, your shorts rubbing against your lower lips.

"Good girl," says Sunghoon, his voice like honey to your ears. But still – you momentarily falter, his voice bringing you back to reality.

"Mr. Park..." you hope your voice is at least a little serious, turning slightly to look at him through your lashes.

"If you keep calling me that, I’m going to start thinking you like it," Sunghoon easily replies, his gaze dropping to your lips. It’s back on your eyes just as quickly, so much so that you start to think you imagined it.

"Is that a problem?" flustered, you laugh and take a step forward. His hands drop from your shoulder as he continues watching you. A lip caught between his teeth.

"Not at all. But if we’re going to keep doing this... it’s Sunghoon. Say it."

"Sunghoon," you say, turning to look back at him.

"Better," he smirks and your gaze falls to the grass.

Sunghoon takes over the camera then, and you end up spending the entire day with him. Mostly just listening, letting his quiet confidence settle into the spaces where your thoughts usually race. He explains this and that—aperture, lighting, texture—and you try your best to keep up, even though you mostly just enjoy the sound of his voice. Low and calm, like the tide pulling in.

For lunch, you make sandwiches for the both of you, slicing the bread carefully while he’s still reviewing the shots on his camera. You place the plate beside him with a soft, "Here."

He glances up, genuinely surprised. Then, that soft flicker of something like warmth passes through his eyes.

"You didn’t have to, sweet girl," he says.

Just like that. Casual. Almost lazy. But your face burns for the next hour.

By the time the sun dips behind the trees, painting the cabin in golden light, he mentions putting on a movie in the living room—and you stupidly agree before even thinking to ask which movie.

You only realize your mistake when he dims the lights and presses play on Hereditary.

The couch is wide but low, sunken from use. You curl into yourself immediately, legs folded up beneath you, oversized sweater sleeves covering your hands. You retreat into your corner like a cat anticipating a thunderstorm.

Sunghoon claims the other side—sprawled out, knees wide, one arm draped over the backrest. He doesn’t look at you, but his presence takes up all the space anyway. Calm. Heavy.

You’re not touching. But you can feel him.

At first the movie is fine. Almost boring. You’ve seen horror films before, and for a while Hereditary just feels like another cliché movie. A family unraveling. A creeping unease.

But as the minutes tick by, your body starts to betray you. The way the music swells without warning. The shadows that linger a little too long in the corners of the screen. The sudden cuts to faces that shouldn't be there.

Your fingers curl into the blanket. You try to laugh once—force it out like it’s no big deal—but it dies in your throat.

Beside you, Sunghoon doesn’t move. He watches with the same intense stillness he brings to everything. Like he already knows exactly what’s coming.

When the first real scare lands—a sharp cut, a scream, something unnatural jerking into frame—you jump.

Not dramatically. Not even enough to make a sound, but enough that your knee brushes his thigh.

You freeze.

So does he.

Then, slowly, you start to pull away—

“Scared?” His voice is low. Barely a whisper. Almost amused.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, only to find that he's already watching you. Not the screen.

“It’s just a movie,” you say, trying to play it off.

But your voice isn’t steady. Not enough to fool either of you.

He doesn’t call you on it. Just leans a little closer, arm still draped behind you on the couch.

“Come here,” he says simply. Not a question. Not a suggestion.

Just… an offer.

And somehow, that’s even more dangerous.

“It’s fine, really,” you tell him but as the climax of the movie approaches you’re getting progressively more and more scared. Your eyes shifting in paranoia to look outside the windows to make sure no one is looking in, you almost scream when a big hand wraps around your wrist.

But you relax, when you realize it’s just Sunghoon. He pulls you right against himself, his arm falling protectively against your body. He moves your legs so they’re resting in his lap, his other arm placed on your naked thighs.

“You’re too stubborn,” he tells you, but his arms tighten around you whenever you jump.

Once the movie ends, the room is too quiet.

You don’t move at first, staring blankly at the credits. There’s still a weight in your chest—your heartbeat quick, your breath shallow. That last scene… you wish you hadn’t watched it.

Sunghoon stretches, slow and deliberate, his body radiating calm. He looks down at you—really looks—and sees it.

“Too much for you, sweetheart?”

His voice is low. Gentle. Like he’s talking to someone much smaller, like he’s already tucking you into safety without moving an inch.

You glance at him, face warming. You nod, just barely.

“It got really scary at the end,” you admit softly, voice small.

He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t laugh. Instead he softly asks, “Want me to put something else on?”

You nod again, biting your lip. “Can we… watch a cartoon? Something stupid. With animals, or magic. Just something nice.”

That earns the smallest smirk. Not mocking—fond.

“Of course you want animals.”

He reaches for the remote, his hand trailing down your thighs. He pulls your sliding sock back over your knee, smoothing over the goosebumps that appear on your thigh where he touches.

“Any favorites, baby girl?”

The nickname makes your stomach flip, but you don’t correct him. You just sink a little deeper into the couch and mumble something about whatever’s cute.

Sunghoon scrolls quietly until something soft and colorful starts playing. You don’t even register what it is—just the bright lights and silly voices, the kind of show you used to watch on Sunday mornings with cereal in your lap.

He glances at you again.

“Better?”

You scoot deeper into him “mhm,” you whisper. “Thanks… Sunghoonie.”

There’s a pause, and then you feel his hand move, caressing your thigh.

After some time you shuffle against him again – your back hurt after laying sideways. Your legs spread as you sit on Sunghoon’s lap, now chest to chest with him as you let your head rest on his broad shoulder.

You don’t seem to realize you’re straddling him, Sunghoon’s even breathing lulling you into a sleepy haze. You just knew the TV light was starting to bother you and Sunghoon was warm. So you snuggle further into him.

He doesn’t say anything, instead he brings his legs closer and angles his hips upwards, so your core is pressed directly against his. You squirm around a bit, trying to find a comfy position when you feel it.

Something is poking right against your butt, just as you sit fully down and begin to nod off. Bothered by the prodding you subconsciously roll and press your hips against Sunghoon’s warm body. You quietly groan, as pleasure starts replacing discomfort.

You continue dragging your hips up and down and Sunghoon groans underneath you. You moan, nuzzling your head into his neck as you push your front into his chest. Sunghoon’s hands travel from your thighs to your waist and it’s getting harder to breathe.

You pick up the pace, grinding with more intent when his hands grip your hips, the strength forcing you to stop. You whine at the loss of friction.

“You’re sleepy baby, let me take you upstairs,” Sunghoon groans, his voice hoarse as if he’s holding himself back from saying too much.

You let him lift you up in bridal position and carry you upstairs. He softly lays you down on your side of the bed. You don’t hear him, as he quietly goes into the bathroom. Trying to hold back any sounds as he grips his hard and leaking cock. And maybe that night he furiously tugs at his cock like a teenager, cumming embarrassingly fast before he’s able to come and sleep next to you. But you don’t know that, already asleep.

When you wake the next day you’re tangled with Sunghoon again. You’re calmer this morning compared to the previous one, and that’s when his hand twitches – shifting the mood. You’re spooning, only Sunghoon’s hand isn’t around your waist. No, it’s resting directly on your boob. Almost fondling it. You feel twitching as he starts waking up, the hand on your boob momentarily tightens into a grope, and you feel your nipples stifling, poking up. You mewl, subconsciously pushing your chest further into his hand.

You don’t move more than that, pretending you’re still sleeping as Sunghoon carefully continues touching you.

His fingers pinch your nipple, hips pressing into you. You feel how hard he is, and memories of last night fill your mind. Afarid he will pull away again you continue pretending to sleep. Sunghoon quietly groans into your ear, his hips rutting against your ass. The hand covering your tit less gentle as he roughly massages your boob.

You try really hard not to make any noise, not to push back, even though the ache building between your thighs has you nearly shaking in want. A moan escapes you when his thrusts get more irregular, less controlled and his dick twitches right against your lips.

Not being able to take it anymore you jut your ass out, shifting your thighs so you feel more pressure on your pussy. You quietly moan when Sunghoon’s other hand sneaks underneath your laying figure, resting on your navel.

“My sweet little thing, so good to me,” he breathes, pulling you into a back hug as he lets you feel his hard cock.

He breathes in your hair and you mewl when his hips move, thrusting upwards. Your pussy clenching around nothing and you feel your panties start sticking to you.

You’re a whining mess as Sunghoon lets you rub yourself on his cock and he continues playing with your nipple, pinching and pulling at it. Noting what makes you whine and moan the loudest. Hit other hand drawing comforting circles on your navel and you wish he’d let it slip under your shorts.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks you, nose grazing your neck, hips gently thrusting into yours, “you like when da-“ he coughs, “when I play with you, hm pretty?” he asks, before leaving a soft kiss right where your ear meets your neck.

“You poor thing, can’t even properly do it by yourself” he pouts at you, mocking you. But you don’t realize it, instead pouting as you nod.

“Yeah Hoonie,” you whine “need your help.”

Just then a loud smack ruins the moment, Sunghoon’s hand coming down your thigh in stinging pleasure. You hiss and blink at him, dazed and still needy. But the way he’s looking at you now—stern, jaw tight—makes your stomach knot.

“That’s enough,” he says, voice low and sharp.

You blink again, still catching up. He left you empty, just when you were getting there.

“Wha—?”

“You have a boyfriend,” he says flatly, standing up fully. He adjusts himself in his boxers, then runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to wipe the heat off. “What the hell are we doing?”

The words sting more than you want them to.

“You started it,” you shoot back, voice soft but defiant. “You didn’t seem to mind a second ago.”

His head tilts. Slowly.

“And I’m ending it,” he says, firmer now, like you’re testing him. “Before either of us does something we’ll regret.”

You scoff, crossing your arms as you look away. “Maybe you’ll regret it. I won’t.”

He’s quiet for a beat.

“Take a walk.”

You glance up at him, pout deepening as your eyebrows furrow.

“Make me.”

That gets him.

He steps forward, just a little too close—his shadow long over your legs.

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Go cool off. Before I stop caring that you’re someone else’s problem.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, still warm and buzzing from the way he pulled away. Your thighs press together instinctively, but you refuse to let it show.

“Whatever,” you mumble to yourself, standing to rummage through your suitcase.

You start peeling off yesterday’s clothes—tossing the rumpled sweater and socks into a corner—and Sunghoon pushes past you, down the stairs.

You pull on something softer: a little camisole, barely opaque, and matching shorts that reach barely over your butt. You add a loose cardigan over it, just in case. Not like you're dressing for anyone.

As you start to turn away, something on the nightstand catches your eye.

A book.

You pick it up and see it’s Dracula. Of course, you loudly exhale through your nose in a quiet chuckle. Leather-bound, dog-eared, marked with a single worn slip of paper. You flip through a few pages, thumbing the edge. It smells like cedar and time. Somehow, that feels like him, too.

Curling onto the bed, you prop a pillow behind you and let yourself sink into it. Reading helps. Sort of. The frustration doesn’t really fade—but it settles, coiled and waiting.

Downstairs, you hear the front door open and shut. A car engine stirs to life. Sunghoon’s going somewhere.

Good.

You need space.

By the time the sun has risen higher and warmed the back patio, you’re already downstairs, water bottle in hand. You tug a towel out from the closet, find your sunglasses, and step out into the golden light. The air is warmer today. Still crisp from the mountain wind, but hot enough to sunbathe.

You stretch out on the lounging, sighing as the sun warms your skin. You don’t even hear the car pull back in—until the crunch of gravel in the driveway makes you glance up.

The door shuts.

And then you hear it. The steady, familiar steps rounding toward the back of the house.

Sunghoon. Butterflies erupt in your tummy even though you’re still mad at him.

He stops in the doorway, sunglasses pushed up on his head, one hand full of grocery bags, the other holding something vaguely bottled—wine, maybe. You don’t watch, but you hear him putting groceries away inside the kitchen.

He’s back out after five minutes. You take note of his clothes despite yourself – a tight black tee, accentuating his muscular frame and broad shoulders paired with light washed jorts.

His eyes find you.

“Need help with sunscreen?” he says, voice deceptively casual as his eyes drink you up. Clad in a flimsy pink bikini set that barely covered anything.

You peek at him over your sunglasses, not bothering to sit up.

“I’ve got hands, don’t I?” you say, all mock-innocence. “Pretty sure I can manage rubbing lotion on myself.”

Sunghoon doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. Just arches a brow like he’s heard this kind of sass before—and knows exactly what to do with it.

“Mm,” he hums, stepping fully onto the patio. “Thought maybe your hands needed a break, since they were so busy earlier.”

Your stomach dips. You shoot him a glare—half mortified, half flustered—and throw an arm over your face dramatically.

“You said we weren’t talking about that.”

“I said we were done,” he corrects. He walks towards you pushing his hair out of his face. “Didn’t say anything about keeping my mouth shut.”

You snort despite yourself, still hiding under your arm. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re burning,” he says coolly, pointing at the tops of your thighs with the little bottle of sunscreen he grabbed on his way out. “Flip over or sit up, brat. You choose.”

That gets your attention.

You peek up again, pout forming instantly. “You’re so bossy when you don’t get what you want.”

He steps closer, crouching down beside your lounger now, one big hand coming to rest casually on the side of the chair near your hip.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dipping dangerously low, “if I were getting what I want, you wouldn’t be able to lie still right now.”

You blink, heat rising all the way to your ears.

He twists the cap off the sunscreen and holds it up between two fingers. “Well?”

You make a show of sighing. “Fine,” you grumble, rolling onto your stomach with an exaggerated huff, the curve of your ass now fully on display. “But you better not make it weird.”

“Oh, baby,” he says, smoothing lotion into his palms, “I think we’re way past that.”

And then his hands are on you. He starts with your calves, wrapping his big arm around your plush skin, hot after being warmed by the sun now high up in the sky.

You force your breathing to stay even as Sunghoon rubs the sunscreen on your skin. Even though his touch was on your legs, the way his fingers knew where to apply pressure and massage made your skin tingle with raw want.

But Sunghoon smoothly continues, his hands traveling past your knee and on the back of your thighs. Once he reaches your sensitive spot you unknowingly spread your legs slightly and Sunghoon smirks, squeezing the sunscreen directly onto your skin, straight from the bottle.

You shriek, “that’s cold.”

“Serves you right for being a brat,” he lightly scolds. His hands rub the cold cream on the spot right where your thighs meet your butt, eyes glued to the spot between your thighs. He licks his lips, his fingers continuing working on your inner thighs. High. His long digits reach your bikini, grazing your lower lips and you twitch. He smirks, not saying anything.

Your breath is shallow as as his hands grasp your thighs, nails softly digging into your skin as he drags circles into your skin – spreading the sunscreen all over your legs. Sunghoon, ever the detail oriented man, doesn’t miss a single spot.

You butt starts lifting, against your best tries to just lay there and take it.

Sunghoon’s breathing is heavier when he squirts the cream on his hands again and starts spreading the creamy substance over your butt. Your bikini bottoms start to wedge into your ass, turning it more into a thong the longer he plays with you.

You sigh, melting into your chair as Sunghoon’s hand slips under your bottoms.

“Gotta make sure you don’t get burned anywhere,” he explains, his voice dropping an octave and you clench around nothing.

You just hope he doesn’t feel how wet you’ve gotten and scold you again. Sunghoon squeeze your butt and jiggles it, watching the shine from the cream reflect from it. It made your butt look so inviting and he has to bite his lip so an inappropriate comment doesn’t slip past his lips.

You on the other hand are holding your breath in quiet anticipation, but Sunghoon’s hands are already on your back. Hands sticky from the sun block as he carefully finishes his application. Grazing your lower back, then your waist and moving onto your shoulder blades.

“You’re trembling, sweetheart. You want more and you don’t even realize it yet, do you?” Sunghoon quietly murmurs by your ear, his voice telling you everything he isn’t saying.

Your body’s humming. You’re dizzy. You’re about to turn around and do something reckless—

But then he’s telling you to turn around so he can do your front side as well.

You listen, moving the sunglasses so they cover your eyes. But Sunghoon doesn’t miss your blushing cheeks and the bead of sweat right in the middle of your boobs.

“Good girl, see how well we get along when you listen to me?” he teases as he rubs on your stomach. His fingers touching your underboob, pushing your top up and revealing the softness underneath.

You moan a small ‘mhm,’ putty in his hands. You don’t dare to glance at him when he is this close. But his shadow looming over your laying figure and his scent all around you is enough to make you dizzy, all your senses filled with him. Sunghoon. Sunghoon. Sunghoon. Everywhere around you.

The moment is broken by the shrill of your phone. Sunghoon flinches away from you, as if he was caught doing something he knew he shouldn’t be.

You re-adjust your bathing suit as you reach for your phone.

You check the screen: Jihoon.

You hesitate, and Sunghoon notices. In a low, unreadable voice he matter of fact asks you. “Don’t let it go to voicemail. He’s still your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

You answer. Jihoon’s tone is annoyed and distracted right off the bat. “Hey. You alive or what? I texted you yesterday.”

“I’ve been fine. It’s… it’s peaceful up here,” you reply, lowkey already exhausted from this conversation.

“That’s the whole point. You needed to chill out. You were being weird lately,” he tells you in a clipped voice.

Your stomach twists. Your words feel small.

“Did you know your dad was going to be here?” you ask instead of giving into the fight he was starting.

“So what if he is? He’s never even home, I figured he’d be working like always,” he defensively nags.

“Well, he’s not. He saw everything, Jihoon. When you dropped me off.”

At this point, you hear the rustle of movement—Sunghoon, standing just behind you now.

“Let me talk to him,” he tells you, reaching his hand towards the phone. You’re caught off guard but hand the phone over without thinking. He takes it with fingers still faintly warm from your skin.

“Jihoon,” Sunghoon interrupts him.

A long pause is heard before he speaks again. “You left her alone, without food, without checking in. You didn’t even tell her I’d be here. What exactly were you thinking?”

You don’t hear Jihoon’s reply, but Sunghoon’s answers has you assuming what must’ve been said anyway.

“She said she wanted space, so you dumped her at the edge of a mountain?” “Grow up,” he tells him, visibly annoyed.

“That’s enough, Jihoon.” He pauses, listening before speaking again. “You lost the right to have an opinion the moment you left her here.”

He hands the phone back to you like it burns and goes inside the house, giving you privacy to finish the call.

You hold the phone to your ear and Jihoon’s voice is furious now “what the fuck was that? You seriously told my dad on me?”

“He saw everything, Jihoon. He’s the one who took care of me,” you firmly tell him, refusing to be the bad guy here.

“So now you’re what, flirting with him? Jesus, no wonder you’re acting weird,” he childishly jabs.

“I’m not the one who drove off like a child,” you tell him, trying to keep your tone steady. No matter how much Jihoon wanted to have this fight with you, you wouldn’t let him ruin this vacation for you.

“You really think he cares about you? My dad doesn’t get involved. He watches people fall and doesn’t say a word,” he quickly speaks, his voice panicked.

You pause. The words cut—because Sunghoon has cared. In ways Jihoon never has.

“That’s funny. He’s the only one who has,” you reply and then hang up, fuming.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

You don’t see Sunghoon for hours after the call. The house is too quiet and you assume he went out to take photos, since one of his cameras was absent too. You try to nap, to read, to scroll aimlessly on your phone, but your thoughts keep circling to the way Jihoon’s voice rang out loud enough for Sunghoon to flinch. The way Sunghoon's jaw clenched so tightly after, like he was grinding back words he didn’t trust himself to say.

When the sun begins to fall behind the ridge, casting the inside of the cabin in deep, amber shadows, you finally venture out of the bedroom.

You find Sunghoon in the kitchen.

His back is to you, sleeves rolled to his elbows, knife in hand as he slices into something soft and green on the cutting board. The overhead light cuts a sharp halo over his shoulders, casting half his face in shadow when he finally turns to glance at you.

Not a word passes for a long second.

You cross your arms loosely, staying near the doorway. “I didn’t know if I should come downstairs.”

He looks back down at what he’s doing. “Didn’t want you to go hungry.” There’s warmth in that sentence, but no softness. It’s clipped. Guarded.

You both sit at the kitchen island. The meal is simple—roasted vegetables, grilled tofu, rice. You push food around your plate. The silence between you is heavy. Borderline unbearable.

And then, finally Sunghoon softly speaks “don’t mistake silence for regret.”

His voice is quiet, but deliberate, “I just don’t trust myself to say something I won’t take back later.”

You blink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He sets down his chopsticks, leans back against the chair. His jaw is tight, but his eyes are impossibly clear as they settle on you.

“I knew I shouldn’t have touched you.” A pause. He swallows. “But you looked so small when he drove off. And I guess, I just wanted to protect you, show you the love Jihoon wasn’t giving to you.”

Your chest clenches. The hurt spills before you can reel it back.

“Then why are you treating me like I did something wrong?”

His gaze sharpens.

“You didn’t. But I did. You’re not mine… yet.”

The word clings in the air between you like the taste of smoke. It makes you sit a little straighter. Makes your breath catch.

He watches you intently, but not indulgently. His expression isn’t soft. It’s honest. Bruisingly so.

“You said I’m not yours. Like I’m someone’s. I’m not.”

“It’s not that simple,” Now he looks at you.

“It could be.”

“You still have him.”

“I don’t want him,” you cross your arms, jaw tightening.

He doesn’t speak. You take a step closer, looking down at him as he still sits behind the table.

“I want you.” There it is. You said it plainly.

His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, like the weight of it hits somewhere deep. Then back to you.

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do.”

You pause, softer now. “You want me too.”

He exhales once, slowly. Runs a hand through his hair. That veneer of control, cracking.

His eyes flick to yours. “Of course I do,” he says. “Don’t think for a second I haven’t tried to push it down.”

You don’t speak. Just hold his gaze.

He threads your fingers together like it’s something he’s done a hundred times. And when he steps in close, the heat between you rises. The air shifts.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, low. “Not unless you mean it.”

You swallow, heart pounding.

“And don’t say my name like it matters,” he adds, “if you’re still planning to go back to him.”

Your voice comes out steadier than you expect. “I’m not going back.”

A beat. “I’m right here.”

His jaw flexes. His thumb brushes the back of your hand, almost unconsciously.

“…Say it again,” he murmurs. Not commanding. Just needing to hear it.

You step closer. Tip your chin up.

“I’m right here, Sunghoon.”

And then he kisses you. His mouth claims yours with a purpose that makes your knees lock. It's not hesitant, not testing. It’s decisive. Like a line is being crossed, and he’s the one drawing it.

You gasp against him, and he swallows it whole.

The kiss is deep, slow, deliberate — not the fumbling of someone new, but the kind of kiss that knows exactly where to linger, how to make your pulse stutter. He tilts your chin just enough to control the angle, to taste you properly. Like he’s waited long enough.

It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel like relief. But it does. Because this is wrong. Because this is forbidden. And because that only makes it worse. Better, sweeter.

You feel the age between you in the way he moves — in the steadiness of his hands, in the quiet control he keeps even as he presses closer. There’s no rush, the kiss is slow, intimate. And his hold on you is firm, possessive, holding you close to him as if he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go.

By the time he pulls back — lips parted, breathing uneven — you’re flushed down to your chest. His thumb drags over your bottom lip, slow, like he’s memorizing the shape of it now that he’s finally tasted it.

His voice is low, warm, and just a little bit patronizing — the kind of tone that curls around your spine and makes you want to misbehave just to hear it again.

“You kissed me back, babygirl,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip. “Don’t get all shy on me now.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t look away.

He tilts your chin up further, just enough to make you feel small beneath his gaze.

“Want me to stop?” he asks, voice velvet-dark. “Or do you want Mr. Park to take care of you properly this time?”

Your breath catches.

It’s not the words exactly—it’s the way he says them.

Mr. Park.

Your lashes flutter. That word settles somewhere low and hot in your belly, like it had been waiting to be spoken all along.

You chew your lip, looking up at him through your lashes, voice barely above a whisper.

You pause, eyes flickering across his face—testing, teasing. “You wanna take care of me, Mr. Park?” you purr, face close to his. Sunghoon traces your whole face, eyes sparkling and lips curling into an almost proud smile.

“So now you get it,” he says, voice low and rich, eyes scanning your face. “Took you long enough, baby.”

He lifts a hand, fingers brushing under your chin, tilting it up like he’s studying you, admiring his own effect.

“You like being looked after, don’t you?” His thumb grazes your bottom lip, and he hums when you part your mouth, pliant for him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispers, hot and slow. “You’ve got me now.”

And then, quietly, firmly, sure of himself “and Mr. Park is gonna take real good care of his sweet girl.”

And then his lips are on you again, he back walks you into the living room and you let him lead, lips not parting. This kiss is messier, loud squelching sound fills the room and you can’t hold back the little whines escaping past your lips.

Sunghoon doesn’t mind, his hands now unashamedly groping everywhere. Your thighs, your butt, your waist, your boobs and it’s dizzying.

You gasp when your legs hit the sofa, falling back on it. You lay there, breathing uneven and Sunghoon just stands over you. Studying you, his eyes dark and focused, tracing every inch of your body.

He unbuckles his belt, “take your shirt off baby, let Mr. Park see you,” and you comply. The bossy tone turns you on. Your hands pull the fabric off your body.

“Mr. Park,” you breathe, pupils blown as you watch Sunghoon. You need him now, immediately. Your pussy is practically pulsating as you continue watching, waiting. But Sunghoon doesn’t seem to be in a rush. He spreads his belt on the table, carefully.

You whine, “do something already.”

He crouches next to your laying figure on the sofa, your legs dangling over the tiny thing. Caressing your neck in a dark velvety voice, almost as if he’s enjoying seeing you beg he tells you mockingly, “you’ve been whining about this all day and now you can’t even wait five seconds?”

You whimper, softly blowing a raspberry as you move out of his hold. You pull the shorts down your legs, done with the waiting.

“Fine, I’ll just take care of it myself,” you fuss, hand starting to slide down towards your core.

But Sunghoon swiftly grabs your wrist, tightly. His body is on you in a flash and it only excites you more. You moan when he speaks.

“Keep acting like this and you won’t be leaving this room today,” he is breathing hard, eyes softening when he sees the raw desire in yours.

You push your hips up, rubbing your pussy on him as he holds your forearms next to your shoulders, your left side pressing into the sofa cushion. His legs trap yours and you’re completely at his mercy, your strength no match compared to his.

“You’re cute when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it” he warns, voice husky, “now say please. Properly”

You almost want to cry, the ache so visceral you can’t even think. His words don’t even properly register before you’re’ already blabbering.

“Please please please, Mr. Park, please,” you beg, unsuccessfully trashing underneath his iron hold.

“I promise I’ll behave, just please touch me, I won’t be impatient anymore,” you whine, tears building behind your eyes out of sheer frustration.

“There she is. That’s better. My good girl knows how to behave,” he murmurs, allowing you to grind your pussy against his muscular thigh, as he caresses your face, a smirk on his face.

“Took you long enough to say it,” a dangerous lilt in his smile. He lowers down, biting in your neck in what should be pain but is instead making you mewl. Your pussy gushing at this point.

“Mr. Park, Hoonie,” you breathe, “f-fuck” you gasp, stumbling over your words as Sunghoon continues biting you, now moving onto your tits, littering small marks, “fuck me please, need you so bad” you whine, legs wrapping around his hips and pulling his lower body into you.

He’s aching you can tell, he pulls his lips from your body with a pop, a string of saliva connecting him to you, his lips red and swollen. And suddenly you’re licking your lips, desperate for just another taste of this older man.

“You love when I make the rules. Don’t pretend you don’t,” he teases, as he finally, finally pulls his cock out. He pumps it two times, licking his hand before bringing it to your face.

“Spit,” he instructs and you comply. You watch as he wraps his fingers around his long and fat cock again, droll pooling in your mouth as you watch, mesmerized.

He notices your gaze, “ah, wanted to taste my sweet girl, see if you taste as good as you look, but” he groans, lining his cockhead to your entrance, “my little one is just too impatient,” he gruffs.

He pushes his dick into you, slowly deliberately. Torturing you once again, and you’re utterly helpless. Whining, moaning, groaning, squeezing your walls together but Sunghoon doesn’t give in to your whining.

He’s barely pushed his cock in halfway when you test his patience once again.

“Hoonie just push it in already,” you whine, “need you so bad, stop teasing.” You pout. His dick twitches and that’s when it clicks. He likes seeing you this needy for him.

You look at him through your lashes, pushing yourself into the sofa, making yourself small under his larger frame, “feels so good, Hoonie,” you quietly moan, “you’re so big,” you mewl and Sunghoon finally sheaths himself fully inside of you, groaning as he does.

He stays like that for a moment, allowing both of you to adjust, his eyes are squeezed shut. Your thighs around his waist twitch, impatient once again.

You bite your lip, just watching him. You know he feels your walls pulsating, purring just for him. begging him to fucking move. You needed it fast, rough but Sunghoon was hellbent on having you slowly. Devouring you whole as you cry for him.

“Now you can wait your turn,” he breathes, almost as if he can read your thoughts. His hand wraps around your throat, his gaze dark and your walls clasp tightly around his dick. Sunghoon smirks as he draws his hips out, slowly, before pushing back into you hard.

You can’t stifle the loud moan that leaves you and that only spurs Sunghoon on. He continues fucking you like this, pace incredibly slow and powerful – as if he had all the time in the world to get lost in your pussy. He watches your every breath, every move, gaze heavy – too heavy. You shut your eyes the intensity overwhelming you.

Your smaller hand cups his bigger one, still on your throat and his voice is husky when he speaks again.

“Look at me,” his voice like honey, the thumb on your neck drawing comforting circles as he continues fucking you, “No hiding. I want to see exactly what I’m doing to you.”

He tells you and when you look you can feel it. The control, the power he has over you, how he could ruin you if he decided to. And how you would probably let him.

Your mouth opens, gasping as he picks up the pace, fast and irregular and you can tell he is close.

You try to claw at his hand that was clasping around your throat. You gasp for air and Sunghoon continues watching you, groaning as his hips work an incredible pace.

His hips stutter, eyes shutting and arm leaving your throat. And you can finally breathe again. Sughoon sheaths his hips into you and he grinds them into you.

Your orgasm starts hitting you in powerful waves, when he starts humping his dick into you, barely pushing out. Your walls tightening impossibly, and Sunghoon can’t do anything else but just take it. Let your pussy squeeze the orgasm out of him, as he stills and spills inside of you.

And you whine, you fucking whine, he flops onto you, carefully not to hurt you as he rides out his orgasm, softly thrusting in you.

You feel incredibly full, can tell that he came so much it’s overflowing out of you while he’s still inside. You two just breathe for a moment, catching you breaths and you swear your soul left you for a moment.

“Hoonie,” you mumble, “feel so full.”

“I know baby, I know,” he wraps his arms around you, turning you two so you’re laying down on him instead.

“Hoonie’s got you,” he tells you, patting down your hair and kissing you on your forehead.

Your breath slows. His doesn’t.

You’re still curled into him, skin sticky and trembling, but there’s a tension still-

“You okay?” you whisper.

Sunghoon chuckles softly, low and wrecked. “You have no idea what you just started.”

And he kisses you again. Slowly and deeply, holding you close. You moan softly as his tongue explores your mouth. You’re squirming, needy again and you can tell Sunghoon is starting to get hard again.

"That wasn’t enough," he tells you, lips not leaving yours, "you’ve been driving me crazy for days. Thought one time would fix it?”

His fingers close around your thigh, hard enough to ground you, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this,” he tells you and then he’s manhandling you, your torso rests on the backrest as you kneel on the couch. Sunghoon’s hands are on your hips, pressing your front over the backrest, your chest pressing into it. Ass up.

He has you bent over the couch and he reaches towards the table. You turn, watching as he picks off his belt and you tremble. Excited. You bit your lip to stop the smile from spreading across your face as you instinctively cross your arms behind your back.

“You’re gonna let me have you like this pretty girl?” Sunghoon asks, almost panting as he fondles your ass.

“Y-yes Hoonie,” you say, voice shaky.

He slaps you, watching in satisfaction as your pussy clenches around nothing. Then he wraps his belt around your wrist – not tight, just enough to stop you from moving. He hums once he’s satisfied.

This time when he lines his dick to your entrance he doesn’t wait. He stretches your walls again and you push your face down, biting on the sofa in hope of silencing any noises from escaping you.

But Sunghoon doesn’t like that, his fingers grip your hair and he gently yanks you by the hair. Your spine against his chest as he continues fucking into you hard.

“Nu-uh princess,” he moans, right next to your ear and you shiver, “let me hear you.”

You’re choked on air, pleasure overwhelming, but still you comply, “you make me feel so full, Hoon… I can’t help it.”

You mewl, rutting yourself back, as Sunghoon continues with the hard and rapid pace, his hips pushing into your ass anytime he fucks into you. Head lulls back, putty in his hands you completely relax, letting him use your body to chase his own pleasure.

“Tell me you feel it too. Tell me it’s not just me going insane over you,” he breathes right by your ear, hands holding you by your waist in position.

“I think about you all the time… even when I shouldn’t,” you confess, drunk on his cock.

“No one else gets to see you like this, you’re mine,” Sunghoon continues, his hold on you tight. Possessive.

“Then don’t let anyone else touch me. Keep me,” you rasp, moaning when he brings his digits to your clit. You shake, from the pleasure and pressure as Sunghoon rubs your clit expertly, as if he had done it a thousand times before.

“Doing so well for Mr. Park,” comes his husky voice, he softly bites down on your ear, “that’s it baby, cream my cock, make a mess little one,” he groans when he feels you clenching down on him.

Your pussy convulses, clenching around him in waves and Sunghoon stutters, pushing his dick impossibly deeper into you and you feel him twitching, filling you up for the second time.

After a moment, after you have both came down you speak, softly. “You make me feel so safe like this…” you murmur, your voice quiet, breathy. Barely there.

Sunghoon gently undoes the belt still loosely hanging around your wrists. His fingers are slow and unhurried, tracing the curve of your hips like he’s calming you through touch alone.

“Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs against your temple, lips brushing soft and warm. He kisses your cheek next, and you lean into it instinctively, your body boneless, spent.

You don’t fight him as he lifts you—your legs too sore, your mind fogged with the aftermath of everything. He carries you upstairs like you weigh nothing, one hand splayed over your thigh, his chest warm where your cheek rests against him.

He sets you gently on the closed lid of the toilet, crouching beside you to check the tender insides of your thighs with a light touch. His gaze flicks up to your face, searching, but you’re already watching him, lids heavy, lips parted.

“I didn’t mean to…” he starts to say, almost more to himself.

“I liked it,” you whisper, interrupting. Honest.

He exhales slowly, something fierce and protective shadowing his face—but it softens when he turns back to the tub, running the water, checking the temperature with his wrist. You watch the rise of steam, the pour of oil — something herbal and grounding.

He doesn’t speak, but the care in his movements says enough. When he returns to you, he sinks to his knees. His hands are warm on your waist as he coaxes you to stand.

“You okay?” he asks softly, eyes searching yours.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat. “Mhm. Just… floaty.”

He touches your face. “I’ve got you.”

You step into the water, and he follows behind, settling with you between his legs. The heat wraps around you both, and his arms immediately encircle you, pulling you into his chest.

He starts to wash you slowly — his hands gliding over your skin in steady, calming passes. The silence stretches between you, but it’s not heavy. It’s safe.

“Everything’s warm,” you whisper, eyes half-lidded. “You’re warm.”

“So are you,” he says, kissing your shoulder. “Still glowing, baby.”

Your lips curve into a lazy smile. You hum, nuzzling against his chest. “I don’t want to think. Just stay here.”

“Then we’ll stay,” he replies, wrapping you tighter in his arms. His voice dips low — protective, anchoring. “You don’t have to do anything now. Just let me take care of it.”

You nod again, your breath softening, your heartbeat slow. The water laps around you both as you sink deeper into him.

And just before your eyes fall shut, you hear him say it—quiet, more to himself than to you “so small, so mine.”

You wake up slow. Limbs heavy, thighs sore, skin warm. His hand is already curled around your hip under the blanket, thumb brushing your waist lazily, like he never stopped touching you even in his sleep.

You shift with a sleepy noise, nuzzling into his chest. He murmurs something low.

“Mm. Thought you’d run away,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

“I can’t feel my legs,” you softly whine, curling into him even more.

He huffs a laugh, hand tightening around your hip, “that’s not a complaint, is it?”

You pinch his side, and he groans dramatically.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“Only when I’m right,” he laughs, “come downstairs when you’re ready, I’m making pancakes,” he taps you butt as he stands up, leaving you to lounge on the bed a bit longer.

You emerge from the bedroom wrapped in one of his shirts—oversized and hanging low on your thighs. He’s barefoot, shirtless like he does this every day. Your hair melts as you note how fluffy his black hair looked.

He glances over his shoulder. The look he gives you is unfair—equal parts pleased and hungry.

“That mine huh?” he nods towards the shirt, amused. “Didn’t even ask.”

“I think I’ve earned the right to at least one shirt last night” you grin.

He chuckles, plate in hand as he slides it in front of you on the counter.

“Careful. You’re getting spoiled.”

You hop up onto the counter, tugging his shirt down on your thighs.

“I don’t mind.”

He stands between your knees without needing to ask, fork in hand. He feeds you the first bite himself, watching your mouth.

“My sweet girl.”

“You’re feeding me like I’m five,” you playfully complain, deflecting.

“Didn’t I tell you, pretty? I plan to spoil you rotten, besidesI like seeing you soft,” Sunghoon says, his eyes sparkling and a soft grin on his lips.

Your eyes flick up to his. “What does that mean?”

“That you let me take care of you,” he easily replies, tucking your hair behind your ear.

You’re breathless as you reply, “you’re not playing fair…”

But Sunghoon just chuckles, “I’m not playing at all.”

His fingers linger a second too long, grazing your cheek before slipping down your jaw. You blink at the weight of his gaze like he’s memorizing you. His thumb taps your bottom lip once, absently.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he murmurs. Not teasing. Just quiet, like a truth too heavy for the air.

Your pulse kicks, and when you look away, flustered, he lets you. Doesn’t push just rests his palm on your thigh, warm and grounding.

A moment passes like that. And as you reach for your juice, he tugs the hem of his shirt on you a little lower, eyes scanning your bare thighs.

“Don’t go outside in this.”

“Why? Afraid someone’ll see?” you tease.

“No. I just don’t like sharing,” he firmly replies, voice stern.

Your breath catches.

“Go finish eating. We’ve got all day.” He kisses your forehead.

The sun climbs higher. Warm light spills through the big windows, turning everything golden. You're curled up on the sofa, still wearing his shirt and nothing underneath but cotton panties, your legs stretched across the cushions.

“You look too pretty to waste the light,” Sunghoon says from across the room, holding his camera.

You blink up at him, amused. “Are you seriously about to make this a photoshoot?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t call it that.”

You tilt your head. “Then what would you call it?”

He lifts the camera halfway, gaze steady over the top of it. “Mine.”

Your throat tightens, pulse kicking up. You sit up slowly, legs tucking under you. “Tell me where you want me.”

He gestures toward the floor near the window where the light cuts in strong and clean. “There. Knees up. Just lean back on your hands.”

You settle into the pose, feeling a little silly, a little shy. But then he steps closer, lowering the camera for a moment.

“No, not like that,” he murmurs. “Chin up. That’s it. Now relax your mouth—yeah, like that.”

His fingers brush along your jaw to adjust the angle. Then lower, tracing a line from your throat to your collarbone.

He clicks the shutter.

You try to hide your shiver. “You’re not even looking at the pictures.”

“I’m looking at you,” he says, voice low.

Another shutter click.

He crouches down in front of you now, so close you can feel his breath. The lens barely a foot from your face. “This one’s just for me,” he says. “No one else gets to see you like this.”

Your thighs press together involuntarily.

“Sunghoon…”

He looks over the lens at you again, heat simmering in his gaze. “You like this. Knowing I’m the only one who’ll ever have this version of you.”

You swallow hard, voice quieter. “I do.”

He lowers the camera entirely now. “Good.”

You're still seated where he posed you, but your breathing has shifted — shallow, anticipatory.

Sunghoon sets the camera down on the nearby chair, but doesn’t move away. His fingers skim your jaw again, softer this time, trailing along the column of your throat.

“You’re warm,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Flushed everywhere.”

You feel it too — the heat that’s crawled up your chest, painted across your cheeks.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, trying to sound annoyed. It comes out breathless.

“Can’t,” he says simply. “You let me have this. You don’t get to complain now.”

Your stomach tightens at the word have.

He brushes your hair back over your shoulder, exposing your collarbone, your bare leg tucked under you. His eyes never stray far from your face — as if every shift of your expression matters.

“Why are you looking at me like I’m going to vanish?” you murmur.

His jaw ticks. “Because you might.”

You blink, thrown by the admission.

He cups your face with both hands now, firm but gentle, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Do you even understand what you’re doing to me?” His voice is velvet-wrapped steel. “You let me take care of you. Let me see you like this. I don’t just want you anymore, sweetheart. I need you.”

Your lips part but you don’t know what to say. The gravity in his voice, in his touch—it hits you low, deep. And the wildest part?

You love it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you murmur, but lean into his hands anyway.

“Why not?” he asks, brushing his nose along yours. “You want gentle? I can be gentle. You want rough, you just have to say the word. But don’t ask me to be casual.”

He shifts to sit behind you, legs bracketing your body as he draws you against his chest, palms slowly smoothing over your bare thighs.

“I’m not sharing,” he says quietly against your ear. “Not your body. Not your time. Not your smile.”

You tilt your head back against him, eyes fluttering closed.

“You’re getting worse,” you whisper, teasing, but there’s no real fight in it.

“I know,” he says, dragging his mouth along your shoulder. “And you love it.”

And you do.

God, you do.

You feel him smile against your skin — slow and smug — before he lifts the camera again, his fingers adjusting the lens like it’s second nature.

“Let’s try something,” he murmurs, tone deceptively casual. “Lean forward for me a little. Just rest on your hands.”

You obey, your palms flattening on the hardwood floor in front of you, back arching slightly. He hums in approval behind you, one large hand gliding up your spine to encourage the motion further.

“Good girl. Now—eyes here.”

You glance over your shoulder, and the click of the shutter follows instantly.

“Perfect,” he praises, the warmth in his voice making your stomach flutter. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me like this.”

“You’re the one making me do it,” you mumble, flushed.

“Correction,” he says, lowering the camera slightly. “I’m just helping you play.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips out — breathless, soft. “Play, huh?”

He shifts behind you, one hand pressing lightly to the small of your back. “Mm. Sit up again. Just like before. Keep your knees bent, feet tucked close.”

You adjust, trying not to overthink it — but then his hands slide along your inner thighs to reposition them just slightly wider. Your breath catches.

“Yeah, like that,” he says lowly. “That’s the shot.”

You swallow, your skin prickling with awareness as you feel how close he is, how warm his breath is at your neck again.

“Smile for me,” he murmurs, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You try — you really do — but it comes out more like a shy smirk.

Click.

He lowers the camera, lips ghosting near your ear. “Now lose the shirt.”

Your head turns sharply, eyes wide.

His voice is gentle, coaxing. “Just turn your back to me. Let me see your skin. Nothing I haven’t already memorized.”

The way he says it makes your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to,” he adds, though his fingers are already curling at the hem of the shirt.

You pause for a second, then slowly unbutton it, letting it fall down your shoulders, your back remaining to him as he asked.

He draws in a slow, audible breath. “You’re so good like this,” he says. “Soft. Obedient. Trusting.”

Your whole body hums.

He sets the camera down now, forgotten. His hands trail up your sides, slow and reverent. You lean back into him without thinking, and he wraps his arms around your middle, drawing you flush against his chest again.

“You really like taking pictures of me,” you whisper, dazed.

“No,” he says into your hair. “I like proof that you’re mine.”

You bite your lip, a warm ache blooming in your chest at the quiet, possessive honesty in his tone.

“Now,” he murmurs, lips brushing the edge of your jaw, “let’s play a little more.”

Then his phone buzzes. Sunghoon frowns as he checks the screen “it’s Jihoon.”

You freeze. Sunghoon answers. His tone shifts, cool and calm. You hear Jihoon’s muffled apologies to his dad through the phone, “I shouldn't have blown up like that… I can pick her up Sunday, give you both some space.”

You watch Sunghoon, waiting for the guilt to hit you. It never does. You watch the serious look on Sunghoon’s face, the way his jaw clenches. You bring a hand between your thighs, shifting your weight on it for just a second. Just to relieve a bit pressure.

Then you drop on all fours, waiting for him to look at you. When he does you crawl to him, sitting yourself in his lap. Sunghoon wraps an arm around you, thinking you want to cuddle because you feel bad.

But instead you pull his shirt up, hands exploring the strong and toned frame. You shift closer, crotch directly on his half hard dick.

Sunghoon shoots you a look. A warning.

But you continue, pressing your lips on his jaw. Sunghoon hisses when your finger traces his nipple, the hold around you tightens. And you can tell he is getting hard. And mad.

“You said we had all day,” you seductively whisper in his free ear.

He clears his throat. Tries to keep talking to Jihoon, but his voice shakes slightly. You don’t listen to their conversation until your name is mentioned again.

“Anyway. You’ll bring her back, right?” you hear Jihoon ask Sunghoon. You tentatively roll your hips, pressing your pussy on him.

Sunghoon is deadly calm, as he speaks in a strained voice, his hand griping the phone, knuckles white.

“Yeah. I’ll handle her, I mean I’ll see she comes to the city safely.”

Then he hangs up mid-sentence, tosses the phone onto the sofa, as he grabs your jaw, clearly mad.

“You really don’t care about playing nice, do you?” he scolds, pushing you back and forth on his lap, fully hard now.

“You started it,” you whisper, shameless as you moan. “Please Hoonie, I want more,” you beg, fisting his shirt.

“Yeah? You like it when Mr. Park lets you play?” he asks, voice deep. He lets you hump yourself against him just watching you, gaze serious, brows furrowed slightly. But you don’t notice.

“Mhm,” you say blissfully. Hugging him to you, your tits press against his chest and he twitches.

Sunghoon sneaks his hands between the two of you, pulling his cock out.

“But you haven’t been playing nice, doll” he tells you and lands a smack against your ass.

You cling to him, position yourself so your clothed pussy is touching his dick. Mewls turn into whimpers as pushes you off of him.

“Come here,” he tells you, seating himself on the sofa, legs spread. His hand is on his dick, lids heavy as he watches you.

“No, not like that” he scolds, “crawl like you did before.”

You clench around nothing as you go on all fours, padding towards him. Eyes on his dick, when he sees your gaze he teases you. Gripping his cock, lip caught between his teeth as he strokes himself.

You stop at his feet and Sunghoon pulls you up by your upper arms, bending you over his lap. He roughly pulls your panties off and you clench when the cold air hits your wet pussy.

“You think it’s funny? Grinding on me while I’m talking to him?” Sunghoon asks, voice low as he rubs your exposed ass, touch deceptively soft.

He spanks you again, a sharp clap of sound that makes you whimper.

“Do you know what you sounded like? Panting into my neck while I’m trying to keep my voice steady?” he continues, fondling your ass as he speaks before he lands another spank on your pink ass. This one harder, the sting makes you hiss upon impact.

“Princess. That wasn’t cute. That was reckless,” he scolds you, hand resting on your lower back.

You wriggle, needy for his touch and he lets out a laughs. He grabs your hips, stilling you.

“Don’t squirm like that unless you want more,” he says, breathing hard. And you feel his dick poking you, can feel the precum leaking onto you where his dick presses into your plush skin.

He runs his hand over the curve of your ass in a brief caress, before another sharp slap lands.

“Making me hard while I’m talking to your boyfriend. Is that what you wanted?” he asks, breathless. Then in three quick succession slap, slap, slap.

But you liked being punished, so you test his patience, teasing “you were already hard before I moved.”

“And now look what you’ve earned. Mr. Park can’t even take one call without his little one acting up,” he growls, spanking you once again and your ass is starting to hurt. But you invite the pain, lean into the sting as your thighs rub together.

He leans close to you, lips brushing your ear, “you think I won’t punish you just because you’re cute? Think again, baby,” he slowly speaks, possessively.

He pulls you up and you cringe, your ass sensitive from the spanking. It hurts to sit down on him and you lift on your feet hovering over him in a crouching position.

Sunghoon just watches you amused, but then. He rubs his dick against your pussy. You sigh, looking down and watch as he wedges it between your lips.

“Such a pretty thing, just for me, for your Hoonie,” he breathes in a daze.

You nod, clenching down around nothing as you watch Sunghoon rub his dick on your pussy, spreading your wetness all over himself.

You softly moan when he pushes past your tight entrance, “want more,” you grind. Pushing down you sit yourself on him and Sunghoon brings you close to him by your hips.

His lips find yours in a surprisingly soft kiss, as you start to grind. Pushing up and down, slowly in an uneven rhythm.

You’re already a whining mess, your eyes shut as you let Sunghoon kiss you. He slips his tongue in your mouth and you’re like putty in his hands.

He plays with you, hands over your boobs, pinching and scratching lightly. You’re numb with pleasure, cock drunk as your Hoonie starts thrusting upwards.

You come undone at the same time, orgasm crashing into you in strong waves. Sunghoon watches you, and you don’t notice when he reaches for his phone, snapping another photo of you looking so small and so sexy on him as you come undone.

You collapse against his chest, body boneless, breath hitching as the aftershocks ripple through you. He’s still buried deep, arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’s anchoring you to earth.

You’re only just coming back to yourself when you hear the shutter click.

Your head jerks up, eyes wide. “Did you just—?”

He smirks, absolutely unapologetic as he shows you the photo: you, flushed and undone, mouth parted, nails dug into his forearm. “Couldn’t help myself. Look at you,” he murmurs. “You don’t even know how good you look when you fall apart.”

You swat weakly at his shoulder, more flustered than angry. “You’re insane.”

“Mm,” he hums, kissing your temple. “over you.”

He pulls out slowly, groaning at the mess you’ve both made, and then scoops you up like it’s nothing. You squeak in protest.

“Put me down!”

“No,” he says simply. “You can barely stand. That was the point.”

You hide your face in his neck, skin still burning. He takes you upstairs.

Once inside the bedroom, he lays you gently on your stomach, palms trailing down the backs of your thighs before he pulls away. The bed shifts with his weight, and then you hear him rummaging softly through a drawer.

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Just stay right there.”

You glance over your shoulder, lids heavy, and catch the glint of a container in his hand. Vaseline.

Your stomach flips.

You flinch slightly as the cold ointment hits your skin. “Ah—” “I know,” he says softly, stroking it in with care. “Shh, I’ve got you.”

His fingers massage it in slowly, deliberately. Tender, as though undoing the sting of every sharp smack from earlier. “You’re red,” he mutters under his breath, thumb brushing a particularly sore patch. “Should’ve gone easier.”

“No,” you mumble. “You were perfect.”

A beat. His hand pauses.

“You always say the filthiest things, and then turn around and say shit like that.” He leans in, pressing a long kiss to the base of your spine. “Gonna ruin me.”

You hum in response, half asleep already.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟

A Bit Later… You wake to the soft crinkle of blankets on the living room floor.

Sunghoon’s back from the kitchen, a tray in hand — cut fruit, chocolate, a bottle of wine, and a heating pad that he doesn’t say anything about, just plugs in and tucks gently under your thighs when you sit down with a tiny wince.

You’re wrapped in one of his hoodies now. No underwear. He let you keep it.

The music playing is soft and dreamy. Something instrumental. The air smells like strawberries and lavender soap.

Sunghoon sits beside you, legs spread lazily, shirt halfway buttoned and sleeves rolled to the elbow. His eyes are heavy-lidded, but sharp — always watching.

You curl up beside him again. He opens his arm and pulls you in without asking.

“You good, baby?” he asks, brushing a knuckle under your jaw. “Mhm,” you whisper, nuzzling into his chest. “Warm.”

He presses a kiss to your hairline. “You did so well today. My good girl.”

Your fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt. The compliment sinks deep — deeper than it should.

“I like it when you take care of me,” you murmur.

He exhales through his nose, tipping his head back. “Yeah. I know you do.”

A few moments pass in comfortable silence.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you ask, quieter. “Me being like this?”

Sunghoon shifts to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his. His expression is unreadable at first — then softens.

“No,” he says. “I think it’s perfect.”

You hold his gaze for a beat too long.

Then you speak, even softer.

“You’ll spoil me.”

He smirks faintly. “That’s the plan.”

And spoil you, he does.

You spend the day camped out on the living room floor, a makeshift indoor picnic laid over the throw blankets and couch cushions Sunghoon pulled down with quiet intention. There’s a soft jazz record playing in the background and between bites of fruit and chocolate, he feeds you with his fingers, eyes never straying far from your mouth.

At some point you curl up in his lap with a glass of wine, and he reads to you from whatever book you pulled off his shelf, voice smooth and low in your ear. The sunlight drifts lazily across the floorboards. You don’t notice how much time passes — just that it feels suspended. Like nothing outside this cabin exists.

He’s good at that — creating small, perfect worlds for you to collapse into.

Sunghoon’s fingers stroke idle lines across your lower back. You feel him breathe. Slow. Anchored.

Neither of you says much. There’s no need.

Eventually, he murmurs, “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart.”

You nod against his neck, already half-asleep, letting him guide you. You don’t even remember falling asleep.

You wake in his bed again, the morning sunlight streaming in.

Sunghoon’s already dressed, sitting behind you with his legs spread, guiding a comb gently through your hair. You’re settled between his thighs, back to his chest, eyes still heavy with sleep.

“You always wake up first,” you mumble.

“I like watching you sleep,” he says, not missing a beat.

The comb glides through another section. “It’s calming,” he adds. “You look like you trust me.”

“I do.”

He pauses at that — just a beat — then keeps combing, slower now.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the hush of the room, the smell of his cologne clinging to the shirt you still haven’t given back, the lazy warmth of early sun.

Then he speaks again, voice low beside your ear. “Finish waking up, sweetheart. We’ve got a place to be.”

You shift slightly, eyes cracking open. “Where are you taking me?”

“The lake.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “We’re leaving in an hour. I packed wine. Fruit. Towels. Blanket.”

You turn in his lap to face him, grinning now, suddenly wide awake. “You planned a date?”

His smile matches yours. “You deserve one. A real one. No interruptions. No guilt. Just you and me.”

You stretch your arms up, still nestled between his thighs. “Guess I better get ready, Mr. Park.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty,” he says, but doesn’t let go just yet — he pulls you in for a slow, warm kiss first.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

Sunlight sparkles off the water. A breeze rolls across the dock. Everything is golden and quiet and slow.

You’re both barefoot on the wooden planks, dripping after a swim, wrapped in towels and each other. Sunghoon hands you a slice of peach. You feed him the next one.

For a while, you just lie there on the blanket, the world held at bay.

Then you speak. “It’s weird to think this ends tomorrow.”

Sunghoon’s quiet for a second, “it doesn’t have to.”

You blink over at him.

“We go back,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean we go back to how things were. I don’t want to.”

You trace a finger over his forearm. “Me either.”

He watches you. “This wasn’t a fling for me. You know that, right?”

“I know.” You sit up, eyes on the water now. “It wasn’t for me either. And... I want more.”

There’s a stretch of silence that isn’t uncomfortable — just real.

Then Sunghoon speaks, voice gentle but unwavering. “Jihoon didn’t just leave you here. He left you alone for a long time before that.”

You inhale through your nose. It hurts — but it’s true.

“He didn’t protect you. He didn’t see you,” Sunghoon adds. “But I do.”

You turn to him. “And I see you, too. I don’t want to sneak around or feel guilty. I want to be with you.”

His hand slides around your thigh. “Then be with me.”

You nod. “Okay.”

It’s said so simply. Like it was always going to happen this way.

The air is warm, the late morning sun painting everything golden. You’re both still sticky with fruit juice and the tipsiness of wine-soft smiles when Sunghoon eyes you sideways.

“You’ve got that look,” you say warily.

“What look?”

“The one that says you’re about to do something stupid.”

He grins. “I’m hurt. This is going to be very dignified.”

“You’re literally crouching like a cartoon villain.”

“Princess, I’m just trying to bring balance to the universe.”

“What does that even mean—Sunghoon—!”

But he’s already lunging.

You shriek and take off across the dock, laughing so hard your legs barely move straight. He’s right behind you, water splashing around your ankles as you try to dodge.

“You’re gonna pay for this!”

“For what?! Being charming?!”

“For splattering me with peach juice!”

He grabs you around the waist, and the two of you topple into the lake in a messy, dramatic splash. The water is cold but refreshing, and when you surface, hair plastered to your face, you’re both wheezing with laughter.

“You look like a drowned kitten,” he says, absolutely delighted.

“Rude. And you look like you just lost a shampoo commercial.”

You splash him in the face before he can respond.

“Oh, it’s on now.”

You flail as he comes after you, hands trying to grab your ankles underwater. There’s shrieking. More splashing. You push his head under once — a bold move — and he resurfaces with water dripping down his lashes, mock-offended.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

“You love me,” you say smugly, swimming just out of reach.

He lunges. “Not if you keep talking like that—!”

Eventually you give in, breathless, letting him pull you close in the center of the lake. His arms wind around your waist, and you float there together, the water gently rocking your bodies.

Your laughter fades into warm quiet, cheek resting against his damp shoulder.

“I haven’t laughed like that in forever,” you murmur.

Sunghoon presses a kiss to your hair. “Same.”

Later, you walk back to the cabin hand in hand, skin sun-warmed and soft from the lake. He carries the towels; you carry the last of the fruit. Everything about it feels easy. Shared.

The next morning, the day of going back home, you pull your suitcase out from under the bed, still in one of his shirts.

Sunghoon’s already halfway through folding your clothes for you, methodical and quiet, each movement precise. You watch him for a moment—brows furrowed, fingers smoothing fabric—and grin sleepily.

“You always like playing house this much?”

He looks up. “What?”

“You fold clothes like a husband,” you tease, nudging his foot with yours.

He chuckles but doesn’t stop. “And you wear my shirts like my wife.”

You hum, walking over and leaning your head on his shoulder. His hand reaches for your waist, grounding. A soft forehead kiss follows, like it’s instinct now.

As you zip your duffel shut, you notice something nestled inside: his hoodie, a polaroid, and a paperback novel you’d been eyeing on the cabin shelf.

You blink. “You packed these?”

Sunghoon shrugs, brushing your arm as he walks by. “Now you have to come back.”

You look up at him. “Don’t worry,” you say, voice light but sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

In the car, the playlist is a mix of both your tastes. It’s playing low as the trees blur past outside. You’re curled in the passenger seat, feet on the dash, humming to the music. You catch him looking at you at a red light, when you’ve reached the civilization again.

“What?” you ask.

“Just wondering if you’re gonna pretend you’re too cool to be seen with me after I drop you off.”

You scoff. “We literally live twenty minutes apart.”

He smirks. “Fifteen if I drive like a crazy person, which I am for you,” he says, hand resting on your thigh as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building, turning the ignition off.

You share a deep kiss, your hands cupping his jaw, his on the back of your neck. He pulls away first, flushed cheeks and breathing heavy.

He taps your thigh gently. “Come on, let me carry your suitcase up.”

You roll your eyes but smile, as he unlocks the car door. “You just want an excuse to come upstairs.”

“Maybe I just want to make sure you get inside safe,” he says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase with one hand and slinging your tote bag over his shoulder with the other. “Can’t help it. I’m responsible.”

You snort. “Husband behavior.”

Sunghoon smirks. “You’re not the first person to say that.”

“You better not be serious,” you deadpan, nudging him with your shoulder as you both head inside.

Once inside your apartment, you toe off your shoes and flick on the lights while Sunghoon sets your suitcase neatly by the couch. Everything looks a little dustier than you remembered. Like your old life is already softening around the edges.

“Wanna eat something before you go?” you ask as you scroll for the takeout app.

“I already ordered,” he says, smug, showing you his phone. “It’s on the way.”

You blink. “You ordered for both of us?”

He shrugs, casually leaning against your counter. “Figured you’d be too tired to cook after all the swimming... and making out.”

“Wow.” You press a hand to your chest, feigning shock. “Romantic and cocky.”

He winks.

The food arrives, and the two of you eat cross-legged on the floor, a movie playing low in the background. It’s peaceful. Cozy. But there’s something pressing in the air, unspoken but understood. When the containers are empty and the credits start to roll, Sunghoon doesn’t make a move to linger.

He leans in to kiss your cheek, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Call me after.”

You nod, eyes soft.

“I mean it,” he says, gaze holding yours. “Even if it’s late.”

You stand at the door, still barefoot, as he walks out. You watch until the elevator closes.

The apartment feels quieter now. Still carrying the scent of him.

You don’t hesitate as you find his contact in your phone and press call.

The knock at your door comes later than expected. You open it to find Jihoon standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, hood pulled up despite the heat. His eyes flick over your body—still wearing one of Sunghoon’s shirts—and narrow.

“Nice shirt,” he mutters, already walking past you into the apartment without being invited. “You two playing house now, or what?”

You don’t react. “There’s a box with your stuff in the hall closet.”

That stops him mid-step.

“What?”

You don’t flinch. “Take it. We’re done.”

He laughs. Sharp, disbelieving. “You’re breaking up with me now? After going off-grid for nearly a week? With my dad?”

“Jihoon.”

“No, seriously,” he says, throwing his arms out. “You disappear, don’t answer your phone, and when I do call, you’re suddenly all buddy-buddy with him? You think I’m an idiot?”

“I’m not doing this with you,” you say, voice still calm but harder now. “You made your choices when you left me there without a second thought. And now I’m making mine.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “You’re seriously choosing him? You couldn’t keep it in your pants for five days?”

“I think we both know you stopped loving me long before I ever looked twice at him.”

That hits. His jaw tightens.

“I waited,” you say quietly. “I tried. But you kept treating me like an inconvenience. Like I was always too much or not enough, depending on your mood.”

He doesn’t answer. Just stands there, breathing uneven.

You point toward the closet. “Your stuff’s in there. Take it and go.”

“You’re not even gonna pretend to be sorry about any of this?”

You shake your head. “No. I’m not.”

Jihoon exhales hard, scoffing again, then yanks open the closet door. Grabs the box. He pauses at the threshold, glaring at you like it’ll change something.

“You’ll regret this,” he mutters. “When he gets bored of you.”

You meet his eyes, steady. “I won’t.”

And then—finally—he leaves.

The door closes with a quiet finality.

This time, it stays closed. You go into your bedroom and sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, heart still beating steady and slow — not from nerves, but from clarity.

It’s done.

The apartment is quiet now. His box is gone. The door’s locked. You’re still wearing Sunghoon’s shirt.

You thumb open your messages first, but after a moment’s hesitation, you press call instead. He picks up before the first full ring.

“Hey,” Sunghoon says, voice low and warm.

You let out a soft breath. “It’s done.”

A pause. Then, “You okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see. “Yeah. I think I’ve been okay for a while, actually.”

Another beat of quiet, and then you hear his exhale — relieved, grounding.

“I wanted to do it face-to-face,” you add. “…didn’t go too well, I might have been too honest.”

“You didn’t owe him anything past your truth,” Sunghoon murmurs. “I’m proud of you.”

Your lips curve into a smile. “You always say the right thing.”

“I try,” he teases gently.

There’s a beat. You hear movement on his end. Maybe he’s in bed. Maybe pacing.

“I can come over,” he offers. “If you want.”

“I do,” you say, no hesitation. “But… no rush. Just knowing you’re there is enough.”

He hums, and you can almost feel his smile through the line.

“You were never too much, you know,” he says. “You’re just the right amount for me.”

That gets you. You blink hard. “Sunghoon…”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t get cocky just because you’re my boyfriend now.”

He chuckles. “Not cocky. Just… grateful.”

You both fall quiet again, but it’s the good kind. The safe kind.

“Call me if you need anything,” he says.

“I might just fall asleep on the phone with you.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed, sweetheart.”

You breathe in slow, gaze drifting to the camera polaroid he left in your bag — the one of you in his shirt, bare-legged, smiling like you already knew this was how it would end.

Or maybe, how it would begin.

“Goodnight, Mr. Park.”

You hear his smile in the dark.

“Goodnight, babygirl.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

🦭ིྀA/N: thank you for reading !!! I struggled so much with the first scene because it’s literally the two things I hate most: fighting and describing interior lmaoo but once I was past that it was super fun, hope everyone enjoyed reading (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

#kpop smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon scenario #sunghoon image #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon scenarios #enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enhypen images #park sunghoon

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mangiomochi · 5 months ago

Text

LM’s Social Media

I made this long post to list all the social media accounts and profiles of Luigi Mangione. As many of you already know, a lot of his profiles have been taken down. The platforms where we could see the more personal side of Luigi and his experiences, like Facebook, Instagram, and Reddit, have been deleted. However, fortunately, some of his profiles on other platforms remain active to this day.

I’ll try to list each of these sites. If you see anything that needs to be corrected or know of another LM profile that isn’t listed here, I’d appreciate it if you shared it. My goal is to keep this post as updated as possible.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, so if you notice anything odd in the writing, I apologize.

Facebook: luigi.mangione.2

Status: Taken Down First post: Jan 17, 2010 Last post: Aug 24, 2019

LM has had a Facebook account for quite some time—likely his first social media platform. His earliest posts date back to 2010. His last post was in 2019, which was also the year he was most active on the platform. That year, he posted several photos from a trip to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico with his fraternity and the three months he spent as a head counselor at Stanford in Palo Alto, CA.

Instagram: @luigi.from.fiji

Status: Taken Down First post: Aug 13, 2018 Last post: Aug 27, 2021

LM’s first Instagram post was in the summer of 2018. In that post, he explicitly mentioned that he created the account just to give one more follower to his sister’s blog. (LM has two sisters.) He also tagged his sister @lifewithlu__—or whatever handle she had at the time. If you've come across accounts currently using that handle on Instagram or Twitter, they are fake. LM’s sister apparently changed her username a while ago and later deactivated her account after LM’s arrest.

As for LM’s Instagram activity, his last posts were from the summer of 2021. He shared photos from a trip to Puerto Rico, where he was working remotely for some time, and from a trip to Hawaii with his other sister. LM also posted pictures with a friend he met at Stanford in 2019.

Additionally, LM had a highlight section featuring his predictions for 2027, which he uploaded in Jan 2021.

LM became inactive in 2022, despite appearing in a few posts made by his roommates in Hawaii. However, many of these posts were later deleted, or the accounts were set to private—likely to completely disassociate from LM and the allegations against him, or to avoid harassment from either his supporters or detractors.

In 2022, despite not posting anything himself, he was tagged in various posts and stories by his roommates and friends in Hawaii.

Instagram 2: @luiginmangione (probably fake)

Status: Taken Down

This account is probably fake, but we can’t be entirely sure. Unlike the confirmed account, this one was private and also has been deactivated. It had zero posts and 404 followers—an interesting detail, as "404" in some areas of computing means "not found," which is notable given that LM was reported missing in 2024.

As for the profile picture and bio, there was nothing we hadn’t seen before, making it highly unlikely that this account actually belonged to him.

Instagram 3 or Another Social Media Account

In messages between LM and one of his friends, his friend mentioned that he was wondering who the person trying to follow him was. It seems that in February 2024, LM created an account where it was impossible to recognize that it was him.

YouTube

First active: Unknown Last active: May 2024

You've probably already seen his supposed channel—the one with a single uploaded video and another that was never released. What was in that second video? Most likely some form of self-promotion from whoever was behind that account. Fortunately, the channel was taken down before that could happen.

However, we do know that LM had not just one but three YouTube channels, all of which were unfortunately removed due to YouTube’s absurd policies. According to the CNN article where this was mentioned, LM hadn't uploaded anything in seven months, meaning his last content would have been from May 2024. It's a complete mystery what he had posted—most likely something related to his trip to Asia. Sadly, we may never know. YouTube acted so quickly against LM’s channels that the internet didn’t have time to archive the deleted content.

Another possible type of content LM might have uploaded to these channels includes drone footage from Hawaii and Asia, projects from his time at Penn (2016–2020), or even school projects.

GitHub: lnmangione

Status: Still Up First active: Feb 27, 2015 Last active: May 8, 2021

In case you’re not familiar, GitHub is a platform where users can store and update code—directly related to LM’s career and essential for anyone studying or working in a field that involves coding.

LM was active on GitHub from 2015 to 2021, contributing to personal projects, FTC (Robotics), and university assignments. In 2020, after graduating, he used it to prepare for coding interviews. By 2021, he was mainly working on private projects, likely related to his remote job. Apparently, Luigi stopped being active on GitHub in 2021.

Twitter: @PepMangione

Status: Again, Still Up First tweet: Apr 14, 2016 Last active: Jun 10, 2024

This was probably the social media platform where LM was most active before his arrest. His most active year was 2024, and he had been using this account since 2016, although he didn’t post anything after 2016 and only became active again in 2021

His earliest tweets appear to be automated posts with random numbers, possibly tests for some kind of Twitter-connected application.

Aside from that, his Twitter provides insight into his ideology, which seems somewhat ambiguous. Politically, he didn’t appear to have strong affiliations.

After his arrest, LM’s account was taken down but later reinstated. And it was recently taken down again on March 19, 2025, for a few hours and then reinstated. He followed only 71 people—later 70, after a Japanese poker player he met in Tokyo in February removed him as a follower. Currently, LM’s account has over half a million followers. Before his arrest, several accounts followed LM during the time he was missing—most of them were likely bot accounts, though not all, as some belonged to friends trying to contact him through public tweets you’ve probably already seen.

LM didn’t follow any of his friends on Twitter. Some of his friends did follow him, which means either he never followed them back or he unfollowed them at some point.

Regarding his banner, it consists of three images:

Breloom from Pokémon – This is directly linked to Theory 286, which you may have heard about. It connects Breloom’s Pokédex number (286) with LM’s total number of Twitter posts, which was also 286 (now 285), as well as with certain health insurance denial codes. Personally, I think this is just a coincidence. Breloom was likely there because LM liked the Pokémon—it’s a Fighting type, which can be linked to physical activity, and is a Mushroom, which could relate to his interest in psychedelics.

X-ray from his surgery – This was from a procedure that took place on July 21, 2023 (though I’m not sure if that’s the exact date). This means his header was updated at least after that date.

A shirtless photo of him on a mountain in Hawaii – We know that one of LM’s favorite activities was hiking.

The last known activity of LM on Twitter was on June 10, 2024. That day, he retweeted a post and sent a DM to Gurwinder in response to a tweet, asking him to show him how to curate his feed to display more valuable and educational content.

After LM disappeared, during July, October and November, his friends tried to reach out through tweets and probably also through private messages.

Twitter alt: (Fake)

I don’t remember the name of the account, but it was something related to mushrooms, it was initially linked to LM due to its similarities with his interests. However, it was later clarified that this profile does not belong to LM, and the shared interests were purely coincidental.

Linktree: lnmangione

State: Still up

Linktree is a platform that allows users to compile multiple links into a single page, making it easier to share various profiles, websites, or projects. Many content creators and professionals use it to organize their online presence.

LM did have a Linktree, but instead of links, it only contained a series of emojis. No actual links to his profiles or projects were listed, making it unclear what the purpose of his account was.

Here’s a possible interpretation of LM’s emojis based on what we know about his interests:

💻🤓 – Likely represents his tech side.

🥷🏃‍♂️🧘‍♂️🏋️ – Suggests his active lifestyle, including exercise, meditation, and discipline. The ninja could represent martial arts.

📚🤓 – Reflects his love for books and self-education.

🦍🧠 – Likely represents LM’s interest in gorillas, as seen on his Goodreads, Reddit and Twitter.

🍄🧠 – Likely a nod to his interest in psychedelics.

🐄👨‍⚖️ – Might reference ethical concerns about the meat industry or food regulations. It could also be a nod to Moo’s Law, a book exploring the rise of lab-grown meat, its potential to revolutionize food production, and the ethical, environmental, and economic implications of this technology.

☯️ – Represents balance, Eastern philosophy, or mindfulness practices.

Snapchat: luigimangione

State: Taken down

LM’s Snapchat was listed in his yearbook alongside his Facebook, suggesting he was quite active on the platform. After his arrest, his account remained up for a few days. Someone posted screenshots of his profile on TikTok before it was taken down, but I haven’t been able to find them. Perhaps that profile was also taken down due to TikTok’s constant censorship. His avatar was surprisingly well-made. If anyone has those screenshots and can share them, I would be grateful and will, of course, give credit.

Substack: @anotherdayanotherplay

Status: Still Up

Substack was where LM followed many of the writers he engaged with on Twitter. One of them was Gurwinder, a British blogger whose work LM seemed to appreciate deeply. He liked it enough to purchase a premium subscription to Gurwinder’s Substack blog, The Prism, which costs $200. This subscription granted LM perks like a video call with the writer.

Gurwinder’s articles cover topics such as gamification, short-form video platforms and their negative effects, and NPC behavior.

You can read more about this meeting in the article Gurwinder wrote about LM.

TikTok: @lnmangione (Fake)

Not Owned by LM

If you’ve seen some of LM’s tweets, you’ll know he was against short-form video platforms, making it unlikely that he ever had a TikTok account. The account mentioned here does not appear to belong to LM. Most of its reposted content is in German and English, Additionally, the type of content shared on this account doesn’t align with LM’s known interests.

TikTok started gaining popularity between 2018 and 2020, so we can’t completely rule out the possibility that LM once had an account.

LinkedIn: Luigi Mangione

Status: Still Up Joined: Feb, 2015 Last active: 2023

LinkedIn is the go-to social media platform for job searching, and LM’s profile provides detailed insight into his education and work history. His last known job was at TrueCar, where he had been working remotely for some time. He left this job at some point in 2023, but he never updated his LinkedIn to reflect this change.

The exact reason LM left TrueCar remains unknown. One theory suggests he resigned to take time off for traveling and recovering from his surgery. Another theory points to company-wide layoffs at TrueCar. However, we can’t confirm anything for sure, as TrueCar declined to provide detailed statements, citing employee privacy—specifically in LM’s case.

Reddit: u/mister_cactus

Status: Taken Down Joined: Feb 23, 2016 Last active: May 25, 2024

Reddit was one of the platforms where LM was quite active, and he remained so until May 2024, sharing details about his travel through Asia. LM created his Reddit account in 2016, the same year as his Twitter.

In the beginning, his activity was mostly related to university projects, garage sales, and Pokémon Go. Over the years, he also engaged with posts discussing brain fog, spondylolisthesis (spondy), and other topics. From his comments, we know that at some point, his health insurance provider was Blue Cross Blue Shield. He also shared details about his struggles with spondylolisthesis and how a surfing accident in 2022 worsened his condition.

In 2023, LM posted about his decision to undergo spinal fusion surgery, sharing research on successful cases. His most recent Reddit activity in 2024 included reposting videos of the mass street livestreams that have become common. LM seemed highly aware of how technology was creating these dystopian scenes.

His final Reddit post detailed what he packed for his trip to Asia—notable items included:

Backpacks

An iPhone 13 Mini

A drone - DJI Mini 2 Drone

A physical book (LM preferred them over digital ones)

Other personal essentials

Unfortunately, his account was taken down shortly after being discovered. It's unclear whether this was due to Reddit’s questionable policies or possibly mass reports against the account.

Goodreads: luigimangione

Status: Set to Private

LM’s Goodreads account gained attention after his arrest, offering a detailed look into his reading preferences. His library included a mix of genres, with notable categories such as:

Self-help books

Back pain management

Psychedelics

Agronomics

Moo’s Law

Exercise books

Books about Hawaiian islands

Fantasy and science fiction, including A Brave New World and Harry Potter

LM was quite active on the platform, frequently writing detailed reviews and sometimes even adding handwritten notes to his books.

Steam: Pep

Status: Still Up Joined: Oct 20, 2013 Last active: Jul 7, 2024

Steam is the most popular platform for purchasing games, and LM had been active on it for a long time. His last recorded activity was on July 7, 2024—exactly six months and 2 days before his arrest. The last game he played was PUBG.

Looking at his library, you can see the wide variety of games he played over 11 years since Oct 2013. One touching detail is that many of his friends still have him added, and one of them even changed their username to "FreeLuigi"—a clear sign of loyalty and support. That’s definitely a good friend.

LM also had an alt account added, but nothing noteworthy has been mentioned about this account.

The last games LM played are:

PUBG: BATTLEGROUNDS – last played on July 7, 2024 Orwell – last played on June 28, 2024 Spelunky 2 – last played on June 2, 2024

Tinder

Joined: Nov 27, 2021 Last active: Dec 18, 2022

Apparently, Luigi was only active on Tinder for a short time in December 2022, though his profile dates back to November 27, 2021. His love life is also a complete mystery, so it’s interesting that he even had a Tinder account. Shoutout to the person who spent 15 bucks to unlock the unique photos Luigi had here 🫶

Trello: @luigimangione

Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown

Trello is a platform designed to help teams organize their work. There isn’t much to see on LM’s account, but his profile picture is the protagonist of Spelunky—one of the games he has logged the most hours on in Steam.

Pinterest: luigimangione

Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown

There isn’t much to see here. LM only saved a hoodie, likely as a show of support for Tim Urban and his blog Wait But Why—one of the writers he was most enthusiastic about.

Spotify (Fake)

These Spotify profiles began circulating just hours after Luigi Mangione’s name became widely known. However, these profiles are fake and seem to be an attempt to link Luigi to various musical tastes—such as artists like Clairo, Charlie XCX, or Blackpink. If you’ve tried to research Luigi’s musical preferences, you’ll know that there’s very little information available. The only two songs we know Luigi listened to are from his SoundCloud account.

SoundCloud

Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown

This is where Luigi liked two EDM tracks that are not very well known. These are currently the only reference we have to LM’s musical tastes.

Chess: sexytwerker69

Status: Still Up Joined: Sep 19, 2017 Last active: Dec 22, 2023

This is one of my favorites. The nickname is quite original and gives us a glimpse into Luigi’s sense of humor. This profile was created in 2017, and the profile picture is a unique selfie of Luigi biting an apple—one of the few selfies he had taken. This confirms that the account is indeed his.

Other noteworthy details include that his last activity on the account was in 2023. Additionally, he had the Italian flag on his profile instead of the American flag, showcasing his pride in his Italian heritage—just in case that wasn’t clear enough.

Venmo

Status: Still Up

Venmo is a personal payment platform commonly used in the United States.

Activity on LM’s account is mostly from 2017, the year when Luigi was selling Christmas lights at his university. While we’re not entirely sure what he was raising money for, many of the payments made to and from him included some of the silly comments that showcased Luigi’s sense of humor.

DISQUS: @luigimangione

State: Still up Joined: Jun 20, 2017 Last active: Jun 20, 2017

LM's only activity here was commenting on a post from Wait But Why. The blog post was Neuralink and the Brain’s Magical Future. This was the only community he followed and his only interaction on the platform.

Sporcle: lnmangione

State: Still up Joined: Jan 23, 2024 Last active: Feb 4, 2024

Sporcle is a trivia and quiz platform where users can test their knowledge on various topics. LM had an account here, among the quizzes he completed were Most Visited Websites, Countries in Europe, SpongeBob Characters, Most Populous Countries, US States, Computer Hardware Parts, Programming Language Popularity, Genetics Vocabulary, Super Secure Bunker and Erase the Periodic Table.

Devpost: luigimangione

State: Still up

This is a platform where developers showcase and submit projects for hackathons. LM was active here during his university years, submitting a project for PennApps competition. Not much to see, but it gives a glimpse into his early coding days.

Other sites that seem to belong to Luigi are:

Apple Profile State: Still up A default profile linked to Apple services, not much to see here.

DockerHub State: Still up A platform for sharing and managing Docker containers, LM had no repositories here.

HackerRank State: Still up A coding challenge site; LM had no public activity or submissions here.

Medium State: Still up A blogging platform; no known posts from LM, but the account exists.

And that would be all the profiles I know of so far. As a small reward for making it to the end of this post, here’s a low-quality picture of Luigi showing off his perfect side profile 🙌

#luigi mangione

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