cyjhhyj

[cyjhhyj]

daddy’s girl

pairing ↠ dilf!sunghoon x (f) reader (ft. bf!jake)

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, age gap (18+), unprotected sex, stepcest, underaged drinking, toxic relationship, reader is barely 18, this is like extremely gross don’t say you weren’t warned

summary ↠ sunghoon has been your stepdad since you were maybe thirteen or fourteen. at first, you didn’t want anything to do with him - not to go to his and your mom’s wedding, not to move to his state, and definitely not to live in his house. you had convinced yourself that all men were the same. but sunghoon was nothing like the father that had abandoned you at the worst possible time and left you to deal with your emotionally unavailable mother. he was kind, sweet, caring. and as you grow older, you find yourself falling for the one person you should never, under any circumstances, want.

wc ↠ 20k

a/n ↠ my first real fic all year 🥹 as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

for as long as you could remember, you had never been particularly fond of your boyfriend’s friends.

they were outright obnoxious, and even that was you being kind and considerate. their voices boomed loudly and their laughter rang out, and the demeaning remarks they made too often to be mere jokes always made you a little uncomfortable. 

though they knew better than to make any lewd comments about you, at least. most of them were about a pretty girl wandering the party, or their girlfriend of the week. but you weren’t dumb. you saw the way they looked at you every now and then, judging you. scorning you. tearing you apart. 

no comments were spoken squarely to your face, but you knew they were conjured. it made you wonder what they said to jake when you weren’t there on his lap, and you wondered if he chimed along. 

thick clouds of smoke loomed in the stuffy air, making it difficult to breathe. you coughed into your fist, feeling your throat itch. honest to god, you had absolutely no clue how they smoked that shit. the one time jake had coaxed you into putting a joint to your mouth, you had thought you were dying.

jay said something that abruptly made the group of boys burst into laughter. you jolted, lifting your head from jake’s shoulder. he tightened his arm, which was looped around your back, holding you against him. “jake?” you whispered. 

“hm?”

you were reluctant to say anything, knowing how he would likely respond, but you didn’t want to be here anymore. “can we go somewhere else?”

jake exhaled through his nose. you knew he didn’t want to leave. to him, these nights with his friends were harmless little exploits that made his life a little easier. 

it didn’t help that he was already annoyed with you. when he swung by earlier to pick you up, he looked you up and down, and the first thing to leave his mouth was a disgruntled, “why do you always dress so childishly?”

you had never thought of your bright colors and cute patterns as inherently childish. matter of fact, the cute, brown top with stitched teddy bears you were wearing was one of your favorite shirts. 

“why do you want to leave?” jake asked softly, gently rubbing your back in hopes of soothing you. 

“it’s too noisy,” you complained, peering up at him.

jake could have rolled his eyes. fuck’s sake, it was a party. obviously, it wasn’t going to sound like a prayer hall. “if you smoked a little, it wouldn’t bother you.”

“i don’t like smoking.”

“that’s because you’re not used to it, baby,” jake reasoned. 

“i don’t want to get used to it,” you mumbled. “you guys all pass around the same joint. you’ve basically kissed each other. which means that when you kiss me, i’m kissing all of them.”

jake groaned, “you’re so dramatic, you know that, sweetheart? it’s just a joint.”

“can you please just take me home?” you pleaded. between the rings of smoke hanging over you and the resounding thud of music and the cacophony of loud voices, you felt like you were suffocating.

jake was silent for a few moments, jaw tight. something tightened in your chest, recognizing the look on his face as something angry. before you could change your mind, jake pushed you off his lap, watching you scramble onto your feet, and spoke, “gonna call it a night early, gang. my special princess over here is too good to hang with us.”

jungwon groaned. jay rolled his eyes. heeseung snickered, not so discreetly looking at your legs, and said, “bye, princess.”

jake flipped him off and guided you away, murmuring, “come on, baby.” his hand was on the small of your back.

the two of you pushed past the bundle of people partying in the main room, which was easier with your tall, respected boyfriend in tow. your shoulders relaxed when you were outside. you were happy to be breathing in the fresh air rather than smoking and doing whatever else people could get their hands on.

jake opened the door on the passenger side of his car, letting you climb inside. by the time you were on the road, his hand was on your thigh.

you didn’t mind that. jake was a very touchy boyfriend and he always had his hands all over you. the attention was something you needed, something you craved. it was just safe enough to make you feel wanted within the boundaries of your control.

but then, after maybe ten or fifteen minutes, his hand started to move. you tore your gaze from the window down to the motion on your lap, stomach churning as you sensed his hands slipping further and further. then, your eyes went up to his face. his eyes were on the road, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

everyone was nervous about losing their virginity. everyone was scared of firsts. but for you, it was a little more than that. you weren’t scared of what happened during the act; you were terrified of what came after.

would jake still want you after you gave him what he’d been coveting? would he come back for more? could you meet his expectations, compare to the fantasies he’d crafted in his mind and had been hoping to enact?

you couldn’t know for sure. once you gave him what he wanted, you had nothing to keep him around anymore; nothing to rein him back in after the night was over. and the last thing you wanted was to be alone again. it had been okay, the ice, the nip, when it was all you’d ever known, but now that you had known how it felt to be warm, you didn’t want to remember how it felt to freeze.

“jake,” you called out softly. “what are you doing?”

“nothing, baby,” jake lied sweetly, feigning innocence. all the while, his hand was continuing to move up your leg. slowly, but surely. 

when he got too close, you decided that you were more than a little uncomfortable and gingerly pushed his hand away, as if not to upset him. “babe, i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

jake forced a smile, and somehow, that was more unnerving than if he had screamed at you, exasperated. “goddamn it, woman,” he murmured. “you already dragged me away from my friends. the least you could do is make it worth it.”

you swallowed, guilt hitting you like a punch in the chest. but the anxious stirring in your stomach was a thousand times worse, a million times louder, and potent tenfold. “i’m sorry,” was all you could bring yourself to say. 

jake scoffed, refusing to look at you. which was probably not so bad, all things considered. “yeah, you should be,” he grumbled. 

your eyes watered, but you looked out the window and tried to think of happier, kinder times. you didn’t want to cry, not until you were alone where no one could see. you hated crying in front of others. it was embarrassing. to say nothing of the fact that whenever jake reduced you to tears, he called you a crybaby, and he’d already made you feel childish enough.

the rest of the drive home was silent, save for the sound of the wind blowing through your hair and the occasional honking; your only refuge in the midst of your struggle to be the perfect girlfriend. the cool night breeze calmed you, soothed you, and traffic felt familiar. it was oddly comforting, being stuck between two things with nowhere to go. 

a feeling you knew all too well. 

the only downside was that the longer you stayed there, hardly moving, the longer you had to pretend everything was okay and try desperately not to sob.

it felt like forever before you were finally back home. you immediately got out of the car, having assumed that jake wanted nothing more to do with you right now. 

to your surprise, he sighed and willed himself to get out of the car, walking you to your front door. 

you peered up at him, trying to read his face, trying to understand where he was at and where you had pushed him. “are you mad at me?” you asked timidly, as if you didn’t truly want to know the answer.

jake took his time to answer, exhaling quietly. “no, baby,” he said after a moment. “i’m not mad. but you can’t avoid sex forever, you know. that’s what people do. it’s natural.”

he said it so outrightly, so bluntly. as if it was really, truly just another thing that everyone did, that had no risk and no consequence. you admired his fearlessness sometimes, wondering how his life had unfolded for him to be so bold, and realized you knew very little about him. “i know,” you whispered. 

jake reached for your hand, tenderly brushing his fingers over your knuckles. “but?”

you released a shaky breath. jake understood you, some ways better than others. he may have been completely clueless in some regards, but your body language was not one. shy, you confessed, “but i’m scared.”

“why are you scared?” jake asked, keeping his voice soft and level. “do you not trust me, sweetheart?”

“no, i do,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not. “but what if it’s not what you’re expecting?”

jake chuckled, as if that was absurd. “baby, relax,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “you could never disappoint me.”

your eyes got a little wider, a little starrier, watching him as if he was your whole world. “are you sure?”

“yeah, i’m sure, baby,” he told you, pressing a final kiss to your lips. “goodnight, sweetheart.”

“goodnight,” you whispered, watching him slowly start to back away. “text me when you get home.”

jake bobbed his head in acknowledgment and started to walk back to his car.

you unlocked the front door of your house, hoping to god your mother wasn’t somewhere lounging around or smoking. your stepfather didn’t enjoy when she smoked inside the house, but he was gone for the weekend. which, to her, meant his rules didn’t matter.

there was no sight of your mother when you walked into the house. but you blinked in surprise when you saw your stepfather’s favorite coat hanging on the rack in the foyer. you didn’t know people actually had those until you moved in with him.

sunghoon was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up halfway to his shoulders, drinking coffee out of a mug you’d designed for his birthday when you were roughly fourteen. it was stupid and kind of ugly, but the fact that he still drank from it, even after four years, warmed your heart.

“daddy?” you called, stunned. you weren’t expecting him to be here for another day. 

“hey, doll,” sunghoon greeted, setting down his mug for a second. “you look surprised.”

you nodded your head. compared to what you heard in endless amounts of fiction, sunghoon didn’t go on many business trips. one a month, usually, for less than three days. “i thought you were coming back tomorrow?”

“we were able to wrap things up early,” sunghoon explained briefly. he didn’t like to bore you with the details of his job, though you often asked him about it, which was somewhat endearing.

“oh,” you mumbled. you tried not to show how happy you were. most times when you were alone here with your mother, you tried to go out as much as you possibly could, which was the only reason you had agreed to hang out with jake and his friends tonight. 

“yeah.” sunghoon’s eyes flitted over your body, making you feel a little self-conscious. he would habitually remember to pick up his mug and wince at how hot his coffee was. “you look cute.”

you blinked. sunghoon always complimented the way you dressed, often reminding you how cute and beautiful you were. you wished your boyfriend was more like that. “thanks,” you replied, coming over to hug him.

sunghoon set his mug down again and threw his arms around you, gentle as ever. but he smelled something on you that he didn’t exactly love. “you went out with that boy again, didn’t you?”

“how did you know?”

“you smell like weed,” he answered bluntly. 

your cheeks burned. the smell had followed you home, clinging to you. you didn’t notice it on yourself, but you knew how much he hated it. “i didn’t smoke,” you told him. “i was just next to them.”

sunghoon chuckled. he knew that. you hated the mere smell of smoke, always scrunching up your face whenever it stuck to your mother or whatever spot she’d chosen to get high at. “you don’t need to explain yourself to me, doll. i know you.”

you nodded, even more embarrassed. reluctantly, you pulled away and sat on the barstool next to him. it was late and you were kind of sleepy, exhausted of having to try so hard, but you wanted to talk to him.

ironically, it was silent for a moment as sunghoon sipped his coffee and you tried to think of what to say. sunghoon spoke first, mentioning offhandedly, “i don’t like your boyfriend.”

you sighed, resting your head against the island. “i don’t really like him, either.”

that threw sunghoon off. “so why are you still dating him?”

“i don’t know,” you huffed.

sunghoon’s eyes were fixed on you, wanting to get to the bottom of it and willing to confront the issue that you weren’t. you had no business staying in a relationship you weren’t content with. “is he threatening you?” he asked.

your shot up, eyes widening. “no, he’s not making me date him.”

if anything, that only served to make sunghoon even more alarmed, and he pressed, “what is he making you do?”

“he’s not making me do anything,” you replied quietly, knowing that wasn’t the best way to put it. “it’s just that… he wants to have sex.”

“and you don’t?” sunghoon finished for you. the topic didn’t make him feel awkward or uncomfortable, even if you were, by law, his daughter. he was the one person in the world you could talk to about anything and everything without fear, and he took great pride in that.

you shrugged, repeating, “i don’t know.”

“well, you gotta know something, baby,” sunghoon teased. “do you, or do not you?”

ignoring the way the pet name made you feel, you tried to think about it, hard. “i mean, he’s cute. and he’s nice enough most of the time,” you murmured, engrossed in thought. “but i guess i don’t really trust him that much yet. and i don’t want to give my body to someone i don’t trust.”

sunghoon hummed in understanding. “you know that’s not a bad thing, right?”

you sighed, shoulders slumped. “i guess.”

sunghoon placed his hand on your cheek, his touch feather light, as if you had a fragile warning on your forehead. “you can do so much better than him,” he whispered. “i know you’re going to do whatever you want at the end of the day, but as your father, i’m going to look out for you.”

but could you do any better? jake was your first boyfriend in years. maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he was better than all the failed talking stages you’d been through. if you held onto the good memories, the ones like only a moment ago where he held you tenderly and touched you with affection, you could bear the hurt.

but there was nothing like that with sunghoon. the way he touched you now, his hand on your face, was something you could always expect. “thank you for that.”

sunghoon shook his head. “you don’t need to thank me. it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

no, you have no obligation to do that, you thought to yourself, bemused. for nearly five years, he had been going above and beyond for you, treating you as if you were his very own daughter. you couldn’t understand it. 

but you appreciated it. you appreciated everything. the way he reminded you how beautiful you were, the way he spent time with you even when he was exhausted, the way he listened to your problems and told you everything was going to be okay. without him, you would be so much more broken. 

but you didn’t let your thoughts wander there. it was too much suppressed pain that you weren’t ready to uncover. “daddy, are you tired?”

sunghoon shrugged. “not really. i probably won’t go to sleep until around two. why?”

“do you want to watch a scary movie with me?” you asked, hopeful. yearnful. 

sunghoon could see it in your eyes. he had learned to become very good at reading you after so long, though you’d always worn your emotions on your face. especially when you were thinking. it was very hard for you to lie. chuckling at the thought, he replied, “why not?”

you smiled, removing his hand from your face to slip your fingers through his as you hopped off the barstool, and led him to the living room.

the two of you settled on a nightmare on elm street and you went on to complain about how much you disliked eighties horror, much to sunghoon’s amusement. he tried to remind you that the technology and equipment available decades ago wasn’t the same as in the current age, but you didn’t budge.

apparently, you found the movie so boring that you fell asleep watching young johnny depp get devoured by a mattress. your head was on sunghoon’s shoulder, the couch blanket draped over you as you snored softly.

when you woke up, you were in your bed, cocooned inside your comforter instead and surrounded by stuffed dolls as birds chirped outside your window and the morning breeze whistled through the air.

none of which you had time to enjoy or even perceive, because the thing that had jolted you awake was the sound of a fist banging against your bedroom door. you groaned and willed yourself to climb out of bed, grumbling something underneath your breath, and threw the door open exasperatedly.

your mother was standing there in her robe, eyes red. “why didn’t you wash dishes?” 

you fought a groan. that was the first thing to come out of her mouth? really? “wasn’t aware i was supposed to,” you said groggily.

clearly, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. “i don’t want to wake up to a dirty kitchen. we’ve been over this.”

you could have rolled your eyes at that. then, clean it up yourself, you retorted in your head. it wasn’t like you had made the mess. “you cooked while i wasn’t here and i didn’t have any.” i didn’t think i needed to clean up after you.

“that doesn’t mean shit,” she snapped. “you don’t have a job, you don’t do anything around the house. you need to take some responsibility.”

with that, your mother turned and walked away. 

you closed the door and exhaled through your nose, trying to calm yourself. you had been awake for less than five minutes and she had already managed to piss you off.

and over the most ridiculous thing. it couldn’t have been that hard to clean up after herself instead of trying to make it your problem. maybe you didn’t have a job, but she didn’t either. and the only reason you apparently didn’t do anything around the house was because you never did anything to destroy it in the first place.

and because you very rarely left your room when your mother was there. something about her presence left you on edge. there were many times you went hungry just because you didn’t want to pass her in the living room on the way to the kitchen for a snack. for as long as you could remember, the familiar sound of her bracelets rattling and her sandals tapping the floor had made your heart race.

in the middle of trying to undo your frustration, you thought of something. you had woken up in bed, even though you’d most definitely fallen asleep on the couch with sunghoon, and you had no memory of making the journey upstairs. 

which meant he’d carried you.

your heart fluttered. something about that thought - the thought of a bigger, stronger man carrying you - did unspeakable damage to your brain. you knew he was your stepfather, knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help but picture what else he could do with all that strength. 

it was also worth mentioning that you were very vulnerable when you were just lying there innocently, asleep. he could have done anything to you if he wanted. if only he had wanted it.

almost the whole day had passed when, to your surprise, you had gotten a text from jake inviting you to hang out with him again. you had assumed he’d want time to himself after last night. but you wasted no time in getting ready, doing something different with your usually dolly makeup, and putting on a miniskirt to seem a little more mature.

you had been close to walking out of the front door, hurriedly walking past sunghoon and your mother who were sitting in the living room, until you heard your mother say, “come back. now.”

you slowly grinded to a halt, muttering annoyances to yourself, and forced a smile as you spun on your feet. “yes, mother dearest?”

“where the hell are you going at this time of night looking like a whore?” she asked, snappy.

you tried to take that in stride, but it was hard. she never failed to hurt your feelings.

your mother didn’t even give you the opportunity to respond before she demanded, “take that off.”

you stood your ground. “no.”

your mother looked at you like she wanted to lunge at you. ever since you had turned eighteen, which wasn’t even that long ago, you had gotten bolder. “if you leave wearing that, you’re just begging for it. don’t come crying to me if something happens.”

your eyes stung. how could she say something like that?

sunghoon made a face and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to stop her before she went too far. “doll,” he said to you, taking over. “i know you’re an adult now, but we still want you to be safe. i don’t know where you’re going, but i don’t trust this world enough to honor that wish. can you change, please? for me?”

switching on a dime, you replied meekly, “okay, daddy,” and went back upstairs to change your skirt.

your mother gawked in disbelief. then her expression flashed to anger. “why does she listen to you and not to me?”

“you called her a whore,” sunghoon replied, unsurprised. “i wouldn’t have listened, either.”

“i said she looked like one.”

sunghoon sighed. “that doesn’t make it any better. you know she’s sensitive. either way, you shouldn’t have said that.”

your mother said nothing, sulking. in her mind, it didn’t matter the delivery. she was your mother and she didn’t enjoy being disrespected.

the skirt you changed into was a little longer, at the least halfway down your thighs. you had been quick to change, grateful your bed was still littered in pile of skirts you’d handpicked (and would unfortunately have to clean later), and rushed outside to slide into the passenger seat of jake’s car.

the party he took you to tonight was better than the last one, at least. there were probably still people smoking and partying hard, but jake had you in the kitchen, where thankfully few people were.

jake handed you one of two red plastic cups with some kind of liquid in them. “here you go, baby.”

though you accepted the cup, you looked at it with scrunched brows, then back up at him. “what is this?”

“a mix of things,” jake replied with extreme vagueness. “just try it, sweetheart.”

you didn’t question him, just turning the cup up like it was juice, which you quickly realized couldn’t have been further from the truth. you grimaced, ears and throat burning, and put a hand on your chest. “what the fuck?”

jake furrowed his brows, feigning innocence. “you don’t like it?”

you shook your head. you’d had alcohol before, a few times when you were maybe fifteen and had sneakily took a shot of tequila from your mom’s pantry, but you had grown out of that. plus, you were still underaged in terms of drinking. “no, it burns,” you complained. “i’m not supposed to drink anyway.”

“you have such a stick up your ass,” jake teased, taking the cup from you and throwing back a gulp like it was nothing. he was only a year older than you, nineteen, and had no business drinking, either.

you shook your head in disapproval, though you knew it probably wasn’t much worse than him smoking.

“here,” he said, giving you the other cup he had been holding. this one was clear. “try this one. i think you’ll like it.”

you were reluctant, considering how much you disliked the first one he’d given you, but with how expectantly he was looking at you, you grabbed the cup and took a tentative taste. your eyes widened. it tasted like juice. 

jake chuckled at your reaction. “good, right?”

you nodded, taking another sip. which became another, and another, until your head started to feel a little woozy. by the time you started to recognize it, you were already more than tipsy.

jake hoisted you into his arms like it was nothing and sat you atop the counter, draping his hands over your exposed thighs. “you look so pretty today,” jake mused aloud, admiring your skirt. “you get all cute for me?”

“yeah,” you murmured, eyes fluttering. it was all you could do to keep them open and suddenly, you wanted to go to bed.

“sleepy drunk, aren’t you?” jake asked, moving his hands to your waist to keep you upright. “heeseung’s room is upstairs. wanna go to bed, baby?”

you did, but certainly not here. you were drunk, not stupid. with you and him alone in a closed bedroom, there was no telling what all he would and wouldn’t do. and the fact that it belonged to heeseung only strengthened your hesitation.

“no, it’s okay,” you told him, shaking your head softly. you gingerly pushed yourself off the counter and onto your feet. “i’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

jake grabbed your hand, not wanting to let you loose just yet. “let me help you.”

“it’s okay,” you repeated, brushing him off. your heart thudded, nervous. “stay here.”

jake begrudgingly let you go, watching you disappear in the crowd with his jaw set. you just always managed to evade him, didn’t you?

you stumbled a little at first, but found your balance, making your way through the flock of other drunk partygoers. you gripped the railing for dear life as you climbed up the stairs, searching for the bathroom.

it was by the grace of god that you were able to find it and lock yourself inside without walking in on a couple trying to touch and feel on each other. you sighed in relief, digging around your bag for your phone. you had to get out of here, now.

with two incorrect attempts, you were able to enter your password and immediately went to your contacts, dialing the one person you knew you needed at a time like this. the one person who you could trust would be there for you no matter what.

sunghoon picked up on the second ring, answering, “hello?”

“daddy?”

even if it was only one word, sunghoon could hear in your tone that something wasn’t right. “yes, doll? is something wrong?”

“i think i messed up,” you murmured, grabbing onto the sink counter to stabilize yourself.

sunghoon’s brows stitched with worry, even if you couldn’t see. “what did you do? are you okay? are you hurt?”

“i don’t feel so good right now,” you replied, feeling drowsy. “i drank and i shouldn’t have, and… can you just come pick me up? please.”

you heard shuffling in the background, like he was already moving. “send me your location.”

fifteen minutes later, give or take, sunghoon called you and told you that he was outside.

you grabbed your phone and unlocked the bathroom door, heading straight for the stairs and making a beeline for the front door, wanting to leave before jake could spot you and do more damage. the second you saw your stepfather’s car, you hurried over, nearly tripping over your own legs.

thankfully, you were able to get inside his car without any problems, shutting the door and dragging the seatbelt over you.

sunghoon glanced at you, relieved to see that you were in one piece, but still worried. “are you okay?”

you nodded your head, sighing in relief just as the seatbelt clicked. “i’m okay,” you said, quiet. “thank you.”

sunghoon knew he should have been scolding you for drinking when you were only eighteen, but he was more concerned about your wellbeing at the moment. “why were you drinking?” he asked softly.

you swallowed, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer, but you had to be honest. “jake gave me a cup and told me to try it.”

sunghoon exhaled, starting the car. if you were going to talk about jake, it was best that he was far, far away from wherever he was. “he’s no good for you, you know that?”

you turned away and looked out the window, eyes watering. 

sunghoon glanced over for a split second and reached out with his right hand, his left one gripping the wheel. “i don’t mean to make you cry, baby. but you know i’ll never lie to you.”

“i know,” you whispered, trying to fight the tears. god, you hated how you couldn’t control them, how they fell at any minor inconvenience and there was nothing you could do to stop them. 

he would never understand; no one could. the reason you went back to jake even though you knew in your heart of hearts that he was just another boy that would never love you. hell, you hardly understood yourself. it was fair, considering you couldn’t say that you loved him either, but you felt something. 

and it was this unidentified something that kept you tied to him like a knot rather than severing the bond. you didn’t love him, no, you hardly trusted him, but you liked him enough. he was your second best. 

though sunghoon’s eyes were on the road, he still had a tender hand on yours, squeezing it firmly. “why do you keep hurting yourself like this, doll? you’re too smart to be fooling around with boys like that.”

“he’s all i have,” you said, your voice feeble. 

sunghoon’s brows furrowed, confused. “that’s not true. you have me, you have your mom, and you have tons of friends and family that love you. what makes you feel like he’s all you have?”

family i feel disconnected from, friends i only show half of myself to, and an emotionally unavailable mother who wants to control my whole life, you thought with a resentment you had been nursing for years. 

you swallowed it down, even though it was bitter and lingered on your tongue, and answered softly, “because sometimes, when he’s not angry, when he’s not smoking or drinking or trying to hook up, when he’s listening to me and looking at me like i mean something to him, i get to feel like he loves me.”

sunghoon didn’t skip a beat. “and how many times is that, baby?”

that hit you like the ceiling crashing down on your chest. all your life, you had just wanted somebody to love you. you had just wanted to feel like you mattered to someone and you had gone through great lengths just to hear it from another person’s mouth. you had always tried.

the only person in the world you never had to try with was your stepfather. the man had gone out of his way, since you were thirteen years old, to treat you like his own. at first, you had wanted nothing to do with him - not to go to his and your mother’s wedding, not to move to his state, and most definitely not to live in his house. you had convinced yourself from a young age that all men were the same.

but sunghoon was nothing like the father that had abandoned you just when you needed him most and left you to deal with your mother who was incapable of expressing any affection to you in a normal, healthy manner. sunghoon was kind, sweet, loving. he was patient with you, spent quality time with you, spoiled you with gifts and listened to your problems. 

all things your father did when you were a little girl, when everything had been okay, once upon a time. 

it was only natural that you found yourself gravitating towards him more often than not, wanting to be around him, wanting to hear his voice, wanting to hold him and spend every waking moment with him. and it was only even more natural that eventually, your heart began to flutter around him. 

but you suppressed it, because you weren’t that dumb. you knew there were no chances of him reciprocating your feelings, not when he loved you with the love of a father. but the nipping void inside you was still there, and it had never felt more empty. 

you knew it would be a bad idea to look at sunghoon, so you kept your eyes fixed on the gleaming towers and lights shimmering on the water as he crossed a bridge. “i know it doesn’t make sense,” you willed yourself to respond. “it doesn’t make sense to me, either.”

for a moment, sunghoon was silent. he may not have understood, but he wanted to deliver his words in the right way. in the end, he chose compassion. “feelings don’t always make sense, especially not right away, and especially not when you’re young and experiencing them for the first time. but that doesn’t mean you have to let them control you.”

arms crossed, you grumbled, “easier said than done.”

“i know it is, doll,” sunghoon whispered. “i know it is.”

something in his tone made you finally turn to face him. your eyes glimmered and you begged, “please, don’t tell mom.”

sunghoon looked conflicted, like he was weighing his options, but he knew what the most effective choice would be. “i won’t, but you can’t keep doing stuff like this, kiddo. it worries me.”

if there was anything you hated, it was that pet name. “i’m not a kid. i’m eighteen.”

“and thirty days,” sunghoon added dryly.

he said that like it meant something. you retorted, “what, are you keeping track?”

“i’m just good at quick math.”

you scoffed. it was probably true, considering all the things you saw him calculating when it came to complicated business things you never understood, but that didn’t make it any better. “okay. how old are you?” you asked knowingly. 

“thirty-nine.”

“what’s thirty-nine minus eighteen?”

“twenty-one,” sunghoon answered without any forethought.

more than twice my age. you knew that. not that it was hard to figure out, but that wasn’t the point. at some point, you had become obsessed with those numbers, crafting a delicate list of reasons why it could never work with your stepfather. the age gap, the marriage, the this and the that. 

but on the other hand, none of those things really mattered to you. you may have still been young, but you were an adult now. a legal adult. 

“besides,” sunghoon continued, seemingly unaware of where your mind had wandered. “i’ll always worry about you, no matter how old you are.”

your heart did exactly what you didn’t want it to do, what you had been trying to fight against for god knows how long now; it soared. 

if you weren’t regretting your night enough already, you definitely were by the time you went inside the house, realizing everything you had to do before you dropped into bed. “god, i have to shower and take off my makeup,” you grumbled, walking with a stammer. 

sunghoon kicked his shoes off by the door and grabbed your hand, lest you fell and hurt yourself. “i’ll help you.”

your eyes flickered in surprise. “you don’t have to do that.”

“it’s okay,” sunghoon replied, already steering you upstairs. “you need some guidance.”

you didn’t know what he meant by that, or maybe you did and you were simply in denial, but you didn’t ask. 

sitting you atop the counter in your bathroom, sunghoon picked out the pack of makeup wipes that were already sitting there and gently began to wipe your face, pushing a stray braid behind your ear. he seemed focused, eyes squinting and his thicks brows furrowing.

you were focused too, watching him intently the entire time. it was difficult to ignore the way your heart raced when he got so close, the way your body seared with heat when he touched your cheek. it wasn’t necessarily even affectionately, which only served to make you more disappointed in yourself.

but sometimes, when you were staring hard enough, much like right now, you noticed more than just how handsome he was. you noticed the little scrunch of his brows when he was concentrating, you noticed the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. when it was as quiet as it was right now, you could even hear his breathing almost as subtle as the faint scent of cologne on him that had worn throughout the day.

maybe it was somewhat obsessive, but you didn’t do it on purpose. sunghoon made it easy to tune the world out and ignore everything that wasn’t him.

after washing your face, sunghoon grabbed you something to wear and asked, “need anything else, doll?”

“no, daddy. i’ve got it,” you replied, grabbing a towel for your shower. the water was running behind the curtains. “thank you.”

sunghoon grinned softly and bent down to press his lips to your forehead in a tender kiss. “goodnight, baby,” he whispered.

“g’night, daddy.”

the door closed. you hated knowing that you were alone, that he wasn’t right there with you. at times, you got tempted to do things you used to do when you were younger, crawling into bed with him in the middle of the night, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. no matter how much you hated being separated.

you usually liked to milk time with him for all that it was worth, especially because he was always working. you stole the seat beside him at the dinner table, you watched him mend items in the house, and you spent a lot of time on the couch of his study when he was taking calls and doing paperwork. 

once you had gotten redressed after your shower, you slipped into bed with a sigh. there was always tomorrow.

the cereal boxes were pushed too far back again. 

you couldn’t reach them. even standing on your tippy toes, waving your hand aimlessly in hope of even scraping the damn corner of a box of cinnamon toast crunch, they were just too far. “ugh,” you whined, irritated.

sunghoon watched. his eyes were less on your challenging endeavor and more on the swell of your ass peeking from underneath your tiny nightgown as you rose off the heels of your feet onto your toes, noticing the way it jiggled when you stood normally again. there was a pang of guilt in his chest, watching you like that, but at the end of the day, sunghoon was just a man.

“i’ll get it,” sunghoon insisted, standing up from the bar to swing over without even having to ask which one you wanted. he routinely saw you only eat the same cereal.

you thanked him when he grabbed the box of cinnamon toast crunch and placed it securely into your hands. walking over to the counter where the milk and bowl were waiting, you noticed sunghoon come up behind you. at first, you thought he was just watching for whatever reason, so you ignored the thud in your chest at his proximity and poured the cereal. 

then, you carefully grabbed the milk, not wanting to spill it accidentally. you had been guilty of that before. without warning, his hands dropped below your waist and cupped your cheeks, making your eyes go wide. “daddy,” you gasped out, bemused. “what are you doing?”

sunghoon shushed you, giving your neck a fleeting kiss before he shifted his attention back downwards, pushing your nightgown up so that it would bunch around your hips. “quiet,” he whispered.

“daddy, the milk,” you whined, having lost control of your grip when he touched you, catching you by surprise. 

most of it had spilled out of its container, the bowl overflowing with streams of milk dripping off the counter that would stink if not cleaned soon enough. but some of it had splashed onto your face, chest and tummy. “shh,” sunghoon repeated. “don’t worry about it. you can milk something else.”

your face warmed in realization just as he began to press himself against you from behind, and the very big, very hard bulge in his pants made your mouth run dry.

or maybe it was the morning breath. because you woke up, sighing quietly at first, and turned to stretch your arm from underneath your blankets.

“what the fuck,” you grumbled a few minutes later when it dawned on you exactly what kind of dream you’d just had. 

sure, you’d had dreams about sunghoon before, but they were nothing to write home about; they were entirely random and didn’t make logical sense, or they were simple and mundane, and very often, you didn’t realize they were dreams at first because they were so realistic that they could have been memories.

that was definitely a dream. you couldn’t imagine sunghoon doing anything like that to you. well, you certainly could, but that wasn’t the point. it wasn’t realistic whatsoever, other than him extending himself to help you.

it made you horny to think about. everything about the dream had physically felt so real to you; sunghoon’s hands on your ass, his bulge pressing against you from behind, and his warmth radiating onto you hotly enough to make you melt.

part of you was tempted to go back to bed, ignoring the faint chirps of birds outside your window and the light reaching through white and pink curtains. if only you could have stayed asleep a little longer, just to see how it ended. if only sunghoon would have ever felt that way about you too, then maybe it could become true.

but he wouldn’t. and even if he somehow did, sunghoon was at work by now. so you did the one you never thought you would do. 

“hello?” jake said when he picked up the phone. 

your heart sped. you were about to propose something that you were none too sure about, but something had to be done about the festering ache between your legs. your fingers weren’t satisfying you anymore; they hadn’t in years. “jake,” you whispered. “hi.”

“hi,” jake repeated dryly, wondering what you wanted. you could hear in his tone that he still wasn’t particularly thrilled about last night.

you swallowed the lump in your throat. “i’m sorry for running away last night,” you murmured. “i didn’t want to abandon you like that. i was just… scared.”

jake made a noise, but it was so quiet and distorted that you couldn’t decide what to make of it. “you were scared,” he replied, echoing your words again.

you gave a deep, prolonged exhale. you knew that you were running out of time with him, that one day, he would grow sick of your excuses and your stalling. “i knew that… you were trying to have sex,” you explained. “and i didn’t… i didn’t feel comfortable. i was drunk. and then you said we were going to heeseung’s room, and i got even more worried.”

“why?”

“i don’t like heeseung,” you admitted, although you thought it would be obvious by now. “he looks at me weird.”

“baby,” jake sighed. you could hear how frustrated he was. “heeseung’s not gonna hurt you. he just likes to have a little fun. but if it makes you feel better, i’ll try to keep him in line.”

you were only half relieved. “thank you.”

“now, is that why you called me? to tell me heeseung makes you uncomfortable?” he asked. 

“no,” you stammered, playing with the hem of your shirt in attempt to distract yourself from your nerves. “there’s something else i wanted to tell you.”

“what is it, sweetheart?”

you blurted, “i think i’m ready.”

you could practically feel jake perk up. “like, seriously?” he asked, stunned. 

“yeah,” you replied, but it weak. there was a bit of regret in your chest when the word left your mouth, but you tried to swallow it down and keep it there. “i’m ready, jake. right now.”

jake was ruffling through something, probably his drawer. “shit,” he said, excited. you wondered if his heart was beating even half as fast as yours was. “where are you right now?”

“home.”

“can i come over?”

“yeah,” you muttered again. he lived far enough that you had time to wash up a little and get your mind together. “my dad is at work and my mom probably won’t be home until later. it’s just me.”

“i’m on the way,” jake said without missing a beat, quickly hanging up. 

you took a deep breath, trying to relax yourself. jake was your boyfriend. you were supposed to call him when you had needs; itches that needed scratching.

it was a conflict that had been warring in your mind for weeks, maybe subconsciously months. on the one hand, your lust was only centered around sunghoon and you were afraid of having sex with jake for more reasons than one. but on the other, the human desire for release had ran to a peak and now it was unignorable, your body begging to be satiated.

you knew what the most prudent choice would have been: dumping jake, getting over these unrational feelings for your stepfather, and no longer settling for men that treated you as less than what you deserved. but what did you look like being alone again, waiting for someone to decide they loved you, especially when your heart belonged to someone who could never be yours?

clearly, you were in no way in the position to make prudent choices. not when the need burning inside you outweighed the reason.

time went by faster than you thought, considering that jake didn’t particularly live nearby. you had spent the better half of that time in your own head, wondering what would happen, and the sound of the doorbell ringing jolted you out of your thoughts.

your heart was pounding with all its might as you made deliberately slow, steadys steps down the stairs and to the front door where you knew jake would be waiting. seeing his face when you opened the door only made you more anxious.

jake, on the other hand, beamed when he saw you. you weren’t sure if you had ever seen him smile at you like that before. “hey, baby,” he greeted, stepping inside.

“hi,” you murmured, shutting the door behind him.

jake coiled his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest. his alluring, familiar scent put you at ease a little more. “i missed you,” he whispered, fingers sliding underneath your shirt to draw patterns on your navel, almost as if he could sense your need for comfort. “you ran off on me last night.”

your smile was sheepish as you apologized again, “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay. i know why you did it,” jake said, glancing around as you led him out of the foyer little by little. “i just realized i’ve never been inside your house.”

that was not only true, but intentional; for obvious reasons, you didn’t want to be in the house with jake by yourself, but you also didn’t want him around your parents, either. your mother would find some way to embarrass you and the few times sunghoon and jake had met, there was strange tension in the air.

based on your mother’s behavioral patterns and those interactions alone, you had made the unilateral decision that it would be better for everyone involved if you kept your relationship with jake outside. “yeah,” you said, happy to think about anything but what was to come. “it’s better that way, don’t you think?”

jake chuckled, nodding his head. when he saw the stairs, he instinctively started heading that way. “yeah. i don’t think your dad likes me very much.”

“he’s just protective,” you replied, although you remembered sunghoon telling you outright that he didn’t like your boyfriend. 

“you don’t need protecting from me,” jake told you, slipping his hand down from your navel to your hand as you started up the steps. “have you been telling him mean things about me?”

define mean, was what you answered in your head. if anything, you had probably described jake too kindly, too gently. he had never hurt you, at least in the sense that he had never put his hands on you, but he was aggressive in other, more hurtful ways. “no, i told him the truth.”

“and what’s the truth?”

“that i love you,” you lied. “and i want to do this with you.”

jake looked like the happiest man alive, and something told you that it was unusual for him to be more enthusiastic in this moment than almost any other moment he’d spent with just the two of you. but the fear that had kept you close to him for so long was the same fear that had held you apart, and it was the same fear telling you to be silent.

but when jake opened the door to your bedroom, his face fell. “what’s all this?” 

your brows furrowed. “…my bedroom?”

“yours?” jake echoed, apparently appalled as he scanned your bedroom from left to right. 

the main culprit, however, seemed to be the miscellaneous plushies thrown about your bed. “oh,” you whispered, confused. your mother had found it childish and voiced her unwanted opinion every now and then, but you never thought it was so bad. 

jake scoffed, “what are you, thirteen? i’m not fucking you on that.”

“but, jake,” you started, noticing him turning back around. your stomach churned. he was leaving. 

shaking his head, jake threw the door open and said, “you really have to grow up, baby.”

you followed him, frantic. you knew he could your footsteps as you trailed behind him down the stairs, but he didn’t bother turning around, as if he had already decided he didn’t want to see you anymore. “jake, please don’t go,” you begged.

he didn’t listen. he didn’t even look at you, not until he made it to the front door and said, “goodbye,” followed by your name. then, he walked out the door, passing your mother on his way out.

as if this afternoon couldn’t get any worse.

as soon your mother stepped through the door, looking like she had been awake for the past twelve hours doing god knows what, she went, “really? you turn eighteen and think you can just do whatever you want? why the hell are you bringing boys over?” 

you were already on the verge of tears and you didn’t have the strength to put up with her, so for the first time in your life, you chose to walk away. she called after you, demanding you to come back, but you ignored it and raced upstairs to your bedroom.

it hurt more than it should have, watching jake leave like that, watching him go despite your pleas. maybe because it felt all too familiar. your brain recognized the feeling belligerently attacking you and your heart weakly surrendered to it, still too broken.

maybe you were always too broken, maybe that was why they never stayed. this is what men do, you told yourself through hot, wet tears. they take what they want, and then when it becomes even a little too much for them, they leave. nothing will change that. they won’t change themselves.

sitting alone by yourself in your closed bedroom with only your stuffed toys to bear witness to your suffering, it still felt humiliating. you had already come to the conclusion that what you felt for jake was not love, at least not of a romantic nature. and yet for the life of you, you couldn’t wrap your head around why it still hurt so bad.

it was a dizzying, throbbing ache that only persisted the longer you sat on the carpeted floor, weeping. for a fleeting moment, you were twelve again, old enough to recognize your first heartbreak but not enough to put a name to it. you remembered like it was yesterday, watching your father’s back as he walked out of the door, hauling the last of what he would bring with him into his new life, and leaving you in the old chapter.

there was a certain shape of hopelessness that you’d molded into, the loud, petty arguments and traded hits culminating in the few seconds it took to realize that you didn’t mean as much as a toothbrush, a watch, a box of wrenches or an old, wrinkled tee. because if you had, maybe he would have taken you, too.

and maybe if you meant more to jake than what was between your legs, he would still be here now. denying him sex for so long made you feel powerful; he was wrapped around your finger at some point, submissive, so to speak, and willing to do anything with the hopes that you would give it up. you took advantage of that. you used him so that for once in your life, you could feel wanted and in control.

and as you had ultimately come to expect, your woeful thoughts soon wandered to the greatest manifestation of your desires so far: sunghoon. it only seemed just that the world would taunt and tantalize you with the most perfect man you’d ever known, the only one you could ever trust with your heart. 

the cards had been dealt so that you had just enough access to admire how much of a dream he was, but not enough to let you slip away; you could doze off, vaguely picturing what it would be like in a world where the steep heights and pitless hollows of your affection could be reciprocated, but every time, you would be jolted back awake.

the more you thought about it, there had to be a reason why you seemed to want things more after coming to find there was no feasible way you could make them yours - because you wanted control. 

control, particularly over your own life, was something you had long wanted yet long been denied. you wanted to be able to make decisions for yourself without having your circumstances be shaped around the decisions of others. you didn’t want to suffer the consequences of a choice you had no say in. you wanted to reap what was rightfully yours. 

seeing someone like sunghoon, someone that you knew you could never have, only made him attractive tenfold. until now, you never noticed how this manifested similarly in other parts of your life, like in your overwhelming urge to prove yourself. to be the adult it seemed like everyone doubted you could be.

that’s why it’s so hard for me to accept denial and handle rejection, you rationalized as you peeled yourself off the floor and onto your bed, having finally stopped sobbing. because i’ve been denied simple pleasures my whole life, and yet people try to deny me even more.

thinking back to the little girl you once were, the one that was full of life and imagination, the one that foolishly had hoped her mother and father would stay together, the one that was innocent and naive, and knew nothing about how brutal reality truly was, you couldn’t help but burst into tears all over again.

because that little girl didn’t deserve to have to grow up so quickly. if you could have undone it all, if you could have spared that little girl the trauma of crying herself to sleep as she heard her parents arguing down the hall, if you could have stopped her dad from leaving for years, if you could have stopped her mom from inviting man to man into her life, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

and then there was the part of you that had always craved romance, the part of you that remained unfulfilled. combining this lifelong grapple with control with an unattainable lover, it was no secret why you wanted to prove the stars wrong. 

just this once, you wanted to know that you deserved good things too.

after a long moment of drifting between the sickness in your mind that had been infecting  your thoughts, you eventually cried yourself to sleep. it was something you hadn’t done in years, but when you woke up, you almost felt better.

you dragged yourself out of bed and slipped on your house shoes, trudging downstairs while mumbling prayers about how you hoped you wouldn’t bump into your mother. you knew she would give you an earful about earlier. 

to your surprise, rather than your mother, sunghoon was in the kitchen. he turned when he heard your heavy footsteps. “hey, doll,” he said, shutting the refrigerator.

you grumbled a response and waved weakly, moving past the island so that you could join him near the refrigerator. you would have opened it yourself, but sunghoon beat you to it, handing you a water.

when your eyes widened a little in surprise, sunghoon snickered and asked, “what else do you drink?”

he had a good point there. it was rare you drank anything but water in the house, not that you had a specific reason for it. it was just a habit you hadn’t broken. “and what if i was hungry?” you asked playfully, accepting the water from his hands.

“you wouldn’t have touched the refrigerator, because you always get everything delivered.”

you gasped in mock offense. “hey, i cook sometimes!”

sunghoon chuckled. “yes, you do, doll. but i know not to expect you to cook anything if you look like you just crawled out of bed.”

you hummed, sitting down at the island and twisting the cap off the water. you didn’t realize how long you had been asleep, but it had to have been a while if sunghoon was home. 

sunghoon followed you, sitting beside you. he didn’t say anything for a minute, wanting to carefully think over his words so that they came out as intended. “i went up to your room earlier to talk to you about something, but you were sleeping, so i left you alone.”

you glanced over at him, finishing your swig before you asked, “talk about what?”

“your mother wants me to address your… disobedience, as she puts it,” sunghoon started levelly. 

you sighed, slamming your head against the counter. of course, she did. “i guess she told you jake was here earlier?”

“she did.”

you were almost certain that that woman just didn’t want you to breathe. she had been able to control you less and less over the years, and the more you resisted, the more determined she seemed. like mother, like daughter. “well, it’s your house. if you don’t want me to have boys over, then fine, i respect that. but she doesn’t have the right to police me.”

“it’s not just the boy,” sunghoon replied, although he had his own set of grievances about that. “she feels like you’re becoming rebellious in general.”

you almost rolled your eyes. “and why couldn’t she tell me that herself?”

sighing, sunghoon said, “because she pointed out that you only seem to listen to me, not her.”

“yeah, because it’s surprising i’m more inclined to obey someone who knows how to have an actual conversation than someone who just wants to yell and doesn’t care to hear me,” you retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “daddy, she’s been trying to control my life since forever. i’m sick of it.”

“i know how you feel, doll, but you haven’t exactly been making smart choices lately, either,” sunghoon answered gently, resting a hand on your knee. “like your boyfriend, for example.”

“i told you, i don’t like him.”

sunghoon didn’t skip a beat. “and i asked you, why are you dating him, then?”

“god, you just don’t get it,” you grumbled, opening your water bottle to take another large gulp.  

“then, explain it to me,” sunghoon said gently, eyes meeting yours with a reservoir of adoration. “make me get it. i’m here to listen to you, baby girl. i want to understand you, but i can’t do that if you don’t let me in.”

but you couldn’t let him in, not that far, because then he would see something that startled him. it was easier to break your own heart over and over than it was to risk his opinion of you changing, all for some closure. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

sunghoon heaved a breath. he absolutely despised when you froze him out. he wasn’t stupid; he noticed that you were only this less forthcoming when it came to the topic of your boyfriend that he couldn’t understand for the life of him why you kept seeing. every time he thought he’d had a productive conversation with you about him, sunghoon heard something else about that boy.

something more infuriating than the last.

you stood up from the barstool, an idle box of cereal on top of the refrigerator catching your eye as you did, and you remembered the dream you’d had about him that inspired everything to happen today. “i love you, daddy,” you whispered, throwing your arms around him. “thank you for trying.”

“i’ll always try,” sunghoon told you, voice featherlight.

you believed him, you truly did, but it hurt to think that he was the only man that would ever say that to you and mean it. “i know.”

sunghoon placed a hand on his shoulder before you could leave, hoping to get one more sentence in. “i know it’s not easy for you, doll, but can you try to appease your mother every now and then? for me?”

you stifled a sigh, nodding your head. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do, daddy,” you murmured.

sunghoon smiled softly and pat your shoulder.

for the next couple of days, you pathetically waited by your phone, hoping to hear from jake again. normally, he would text you the day or two after an unresolved argument, apologizing profusely until you gave him a satisfactory answer.

or in other words, until you forgave him. but on the third day, you knew something was wrong. you hadn’t even argued, and yet he was ignoring your existence as if you had committed the most unjustifiable crime against humanity ever recorded.

this is really it, you thought fretfully, heart swelling with dread. he doesn’t want me anymore.

you tried to act like it didn’t hurt, like he didn’t wield this immense power over you, but you knew you were lying to yourself. and that jake had lied to you. he had said that you could never disappoint him, after all, but you were fairly certain that ship had sailed.

it was half past noon when you noticed a notification on your phone from one of your friends, an attachment with a text that read, hey, did you break up with jake? just asking because someone sent me a photo of him kissing another girl yesterday night.

surely enough, the attached image was of jake swallowing some other girl’s face, blurry in quality, but you knew your boyfriend’s face when you saw it. he had his hands round her waist, holding her close exactly like how he’d held you, only it seemed like it’d been so long since he’d touched you like that.

only one minute ago, you had been convinced that you had no more tears left to cry. staring at the image, pieces of your wounded heart dropping heavily to your stomach, you didn’t realize you were crying until the phone went black by itself and you faintly saw your reflection in its screen, mirroring you.

whatever had happened between you and jake the other day, you didn’t consider it a breakup. it was your understanding that you were still together, given that he hadn’t necessarily said something to indicate the opposite. maybe you were mistaken, but that didn’t make it feel like anything less of a betrayal.

but to call it a betrayal implied some level of trust, a level deeper than you thought you had possessed. your feelings for jake were complicated, but you knew that you had trusted him not to stab you in the back the second it was turned. you had trusted him to take care of you, to protect you. you had trusted him not to hurt you.

now that you thought about it, you weren’t sure why. the past couple of weeks alone had been hell, his advances becoming more frequent than ever now that you had turned eighteen, and he had always shown signs of wavering. but you ignored them. you were desperate to fill the void left behind by every man you’d ever loved.

torn from head to toe with the sting of emotion, you pushed open your bedroom door and went straight for your parents room. fortunately, it was empty, neither of them home to watch you sulk; the last thing you wanted was for your stepfather to see you sobbing over a boy he hated, and for your mother to say that she told she so.

the first place you touched was the closet, where you knew sunghoon kept his hoodies. you missed him. you missed him in ways you’d never genuinely known him, or felt him, or possessed him. perhaps it would have made more sense to say that you longed for him, but in your heart, those moments you’d dreamt of felt real sometimes.

taking one of his cozy, black hoodies down from where they hung, you hurriedly threw it on, quickly engulfed by its size. it was comforting. the smell was, too. if you closed your eyes, you could pretend that sunghoon was there, holding you in his arms and whispering in your ear that everything would be okay in the end.

you pinched the loose material of the hoodie that was dropping around your body as you sat on the floor and held it to your nose, eyes fluttering closed. he had been wearing it around the house a lot lately. you were very fond of the way he smelled. it was heavenly and masculine, but also safe and familiar.

it was uniquely his own, and, breathing in the scent of sunghoon, you exhaled calmly, pretending that he could want you.

his scent had another effect on you, too. it made you feral, to say the least. though you were mostly used to it, when you saw him for the first time after a while, it made you feel like a ferocious animal, hungry with lust and ready to pounce.

for a moment, you tried to be stronger. you tried to pull yourself together and remind yourself that this man was your stepfather, the man who was married to your mother. but the shame could only contend with the gravity of want for so long until one finally emerged triumphant.

you pulled the hoodie over your head and stared at it for a second, like you were giving yourself one final chance to not do something you’d regret, but lust prevailed over reason.

with nothing to hold you back, you wiggled out of your favorite pair of tiny house shorts, temporarily tossing them aside. you grabbed a hold of the hoodie and bunched it into shape between your thighs, slowly rocking your hips into it.

your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to think of something that would help get you off, every thought you were capable of developing revolving around your stepfather. what most of them had in common, however, was the vivid picture of sunghoon on top of you, weight crushing you hard as he rutted into you nice and deep.

it was too arousing to think about, what he would feel like buried so many inches deep inside you, face tensing as he fucked you with total abandon. you wanted him to lose self restraint, to whisper in your ear that he loved you, that he wanted you, that he needed you. and only you.

your needy hips moved faster. the muscles in your thighs were spasming, your whole body alive with the sparks of desire that were killing you slowly. breathy pants escaped your mouth, your jaw slacking as your body worked harder to exhale. you couldn’t breathe through the thick, muddled haze of your uncontrollable hunger.

how could you? the mere sight of sunghoon made your heart hammer sometimes, because it knew what it wanted. your entire body, at this point, knew what it wanted, but more importantly, it knew what it needed. you couldn’t shake the idea that sunghoon was good for you. that he was meant for you.

maybe thinking of sunghoon as some exquisite gift sent from the gods as a reward for enduring so much in so little time, rather than a titillating manifestation of everything you wanted but could never have, was merely an extreme sign of desperate coping, but you couldn’t help yourself. you deserved him, more than your mother ever would.

you could make him feel so good, if he only gave you the chance. if he only let loose for a moment and let himself indulge in the wonders between your legs that called out for him and sang his name. you didn’t know what you were thinking, almost letting another man claim what was so surely his, even if he didn’t know it yet.

one of your hands pushed up your skirt and you squeezed your breasts, imagining it was sunghoon’s bigger, stronger hand instead. your hips were now moving with a mind of their own, rough pants getting louder, and you thought of sunghoon touching you with just as much fervor and need. it felt more like you were hoping.

the heat in your core finally reached its peak and you orgasmed with a shaky moan, trying to milk the high for all it was worth, but the relief disappeared just as quickly as it had come. you sighed, hole throbbing emptily, and you inspected the hoodie for any signs of your arousal leaking through your underwear.

you pushed it aside and lied down on the floor, catching your breath as you tried to shake the guilt. you hated how much of a slave you were to this insatiable need, sinning in return for only a fleeting second of relief. but more than that, you hated settling. if you had it your way, sunghoon would have been fucking you every night.

the thought made your thighs clench against each other. sometimes, you foolishly hoped sunghoon would come into your room at night and ravage you in your sleep, fucking you awake. you knew he was so tired when he came home from work. he deserved to come home to a young, tight hole. and he deserved to use it whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

knees kicking up, your eyes shifted underneath your parents’ bed, and you noticed something hidden underneath. your curiosity got the better of you and you reached out to grab it. a tiny box came into your hands, and for a moment, you just looked at it, wondering what was inside.

there was no better way to find out than having a look yourself. you figured it was sunghoon’s, given that it was on his side of the bed, and that knowledge only made you want to open it more; you were itching to know everything about him.

your brows furrowed when you opened the box. the first thing you saw was a picture of a teenaged girl, maybe about thirteen or fourteen. you were confused about why he had it, but there were more pictures stacked beneath. the more you glanced through them, the more you realized she looked a little too much like sunghoon.

those cute, deep dimples, his deep, honey eyes, and his peachy, plump lips. you gasped, coming to only one reasonable conclusion: this was his daughter. but if true, why had you never seen her, or heard him speak about her?

you had to assume that he loved her. for one, he was keeping pictures and belongings of her beneath his bed. other than the photos, you saw a necklace with an initial that wasn’t his own, a charm bracelet, a bottle of feminine perfume and other items. a part of you felt like this was something you weren’t supposed to see, and out of respect, you put everything back just as you had found it and slid the box underneath the bed.

it felt like a violation of privacy and there was a pang of regret in your chest, but you couldn’t help but have questions. though sunghoon would be coming home later than usual tonight, so even if you somehow mustered the courage to ask him, it would be a while before you got the opportunity.

you reached out to grab your shorts and put them back on. the only thing left for you to take care of was sunghoon’s hoodie, which you weren’t sure what to do with. you could have put it back as if nothing had ever happened, but you would have felt bad if you didn’t wash it.

so, you did. mostly everything you did from that point on was to distract yourself from thinking about sunghoon. every now and then, you remembered what had happened with jake and there was a throbbing ache in your chest, but you pushed the thoughts away. 

it was easier to think about sunghoon, to wonder how many things you really knew about him, this man that had taken on the role of father for the past five years of your life. after all, it was never him coming to you for advice on life, but you supposed that made sense. he was older than you, had gone through many of the things you were experiencing for the first time, and had the benefit of hindsight.

still, you were curious about him and the many years that had shaped him into the person he was now. were they kind? every person had their fair share of hardships and encounters with adversity, at least in some fashion, but you hoped he’d had it relatively easy. you knew what it was like to suffer and you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy, much less him.

the efforts to distract yourself went on for so long that you even ended up making dinner, considering that your mother wasn’t home for whatever reason and you figured sunghoon would be hungry when he came back; you were hungry, and you hadn’t even done anything but think about him excessively.

like clockwork, sunghoon came in through the foyer and went to the kitchen, spotting you putting the finishing touches on dinner. “you’re cooking?”

you laughed at his surprise and nodded your head, turning off the stove. “i’m basically finished now,” you chirped, donning oven mittens. “i told you, i cook sometimes.”

sunghoon leaned against the counter, watching you take a pan out of the oven. “smells good,” he commented, humming in approval. “is your mother home?”

“nope,” you replied, setting the pan down on the stove. you had no idea where she was, nor did you care as long as she was safe.

“mm.”

you turned around to face sunghoon, taking a deeper look at him. he looked tired, exhausted even. you knew he would always deny how bad it was, though. “hungry?”

sunghoon bobbed his head and set a hand on his stomach. “starving.”

you and sunghoon sat down at the table beside each other and ate dinner, talking in between bites. your heart warmed to see how delighted he was while eating, the smile on his face at the first spoonful putting one on yours. your relationship with your mother had always been strained, but you had to thank her for teaching you how to cook.

while you had contemplated bringing up what you had seen earlier during dinner, every time you tried willing yourself to mention it to sunghoon, you got nervous and didn’t follow through. it wasn’t like it was something you were supposed to know about and you knew that by mentioning it, you would be telling on yourself.

not only that, but you didn’t know how sunghoon would feel about telling you about it, or if he would even want to talk about it. the last thing you wanted to do was overstep your boundaries, which was something you probably had already done the second you went into his bedroom and pried into his personal belongings.

after the dishes were washed, something sunghoon volunteered to help you take care of, you followed him into the living room where he usually went to relax after work. you managed to stay quiet for all of fifteen minutes before the guilt overwhelmed you and you apologized, “i’m sorry.”

sunghoon turned his attention way from the television to look at you, brows furrowing. “for what?”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. you could have gotten away with it, but it didn’t feel right not to mention. “i went into your room today.”

sunghoon didn’t mind you being in his bedroom, but it was unusual that you were there when you had your own. “why?”

you smiled anxiously, fidgeting with your hands. that was the important part. you left out what you had done with the hoodie, deciding he didn’t need to know that. “i just did,” you replied, your voice quiet. “but that’s not the part i’m apologizing for. i saw something under your bed. and, i looked through it.”

sunghoon’s face changed, something more melancholy tensing his features. “oh.”

“i’m sorry,” you repeated, faint. the look on his face made you feel even more guilty than you already had.

sunghoon pat the top of your head, as if he knew that you needed the reassurance. “it’s okay,” he said, smiling thinly. “i guess you have questions now, don’t you?”

you nodded reluctantly. those questions were essentially all you had thought about it since you discovered that box underneath his bed. “i do, but… you don’t need to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“it’s alright,” sunghoon replied, exhaling. that shroud of melancholy was still hanging over him. “she was my daughter.”

your heart stopped. “…was?”

for a moment, sunghoon was silent and he didn’t immediately respond. you wondered if you had said the wrong thing, overthinking everything you were doing. he exhaled yet another breath and replied, “she passed away six years ago. car accident.”

that explained everything, but now you felt worse than you had before and it was killing you. “daddy…”

it looked like it pained him to talk about it, but he did it anyway. “i was married before i met your mother,” he explained. “everything was good. we had a few problems, but hey, no marriage is completely perfect. my ex-wife took our daughter out and they were coming back home when they got into a car accident. she wasn’t paying attention. she lived; our daughter didn’t.”

you were silent. you didn’t know what to say.

tensing a little, sunghoon continued, “we had a divorce because i blamed her, and i couldn’t stand to be around her anymore. i don’t think i can ever forgive her for being so reckless.”

“i wish that never happened to you, daddy. you didn’t deserve that,” you said compassionately.

“you lost someone, too.”

the thought of your father left a sour taste, and to be frank, you never wanted to think about him again. “yeah, my dad left me, but at least the bastard’s still alive. if i wanted to talk to him, i could. but you don’t have that option.”

sunghoon’s eyes flitted over you and he reached out to push your hair out of your face. “that’s why i want to protect you, doll. you mean more to me than you will ever know.”

there your heart went again, acting a fool at the smallest words and actions. “you mean a lot to me, too.”

after much internal wavering, sunghoon reluctantly confessed, “i was never going to tell you this, but when i met your mother, part of what i liked about her was that she had a daughter. just a year younger than my daughter would be. and i wanted her back. i wanted her back so badly. so to me, it felt like god was giving me a second chance.”

your eyes flickered. you had always wondered what it was he liked about your mother in the first place. they made a strange pair; he seemed so different from her type, and his personality was much softer than hers. “really?”

“that’s why i tried so hard in the beginning to grow on you. even though it couldn’t have been more obvious that you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he told you lightheartedly. 

you giggled, remembering how much you had been against your mother getting married to this man you barely knew. “you’re a great father,” you whispered. “thank you for not giving up halfway.”

“i’ll never give up on you.”

you were beaming. “i know.”

this conversation had taken a different direction than you had initially expected, but ultimately, you were happy with it. you had been so afraid of him getting upset with you, and though it would have been justified, you knew rationally that it just wasn’t in his nature.

at least, not when it came to you. you had noticed the anger bristling within him when he spoke of the mother of his child; it made you angry on his behalf. but even then, sunghoon’s anger was nothing like the kind you had grown up surrounded with. it wasn’t loud, aggressive, or dangerous. it was quiet, composed, restrained. 

much like the rest of him.

in the time that you had spent thinking about sunghoon’s life and all the secrets it contained, you had figured something out about yourself. “i’m going to break up with jake,” you announced.

though he didn’t expect the topic change, sunghoon couldn’t hide his relief. “what took you so long?”

you chuckled, because that was a good question, to be fair. “well, for one, at least to my knowledge, he hadn’t cheated on me until now,” you retorted.

the anger was back, only this time, you swore it had a more hostile air to it than ever. “he did what?” sunghoon exclaimed.

you shrugged your shoulders. it wasn’t that it didn’t bother you, because it did. come to think about it, it mostly hurt because you would have never done the same thing to him, no matter how much you lusted after your stepfather. 

taking a deep, frustrated breath, you explained, “yeah. long story short, when he came over the other day, it was because i had agreed to have sex with him. but when he saw my room for the first time, he basically called me childish and said he wasn’t doing it there. then he marched out.”

sunghoon shook his head, but he wasn’t surprised. at least you had enough self-respect to end it now. he was starting to become afraid that he would need to shake some sense into you.

jake had served a purpose. he was unbelievably handsome, undoubtedly smart, and told you everything that you wanted to hear. he distracted you from what you were really after, and in return, you ignored what he was really after.

there was a large part of you that felt ashamed for lying to yourself for so long. but now you were being honest. you owed yourself that much. “i was so stupid. part of the reason i didn’t want to have sex with him was because i wanted him to stay, and i wasn’t sure if he would still choose me afterwards. i was scared he would get what he wanted and leave. but the reason i agreed to have sex with him was because i could feel him getting bored and pulling away. and in the end, he left me anyway.”

you had already decided you weren’t going to hold it against him, because you were both guilty of something. you had lied to each other, taken advantage of each other, and bled dry each other. both of you had tried to force something that was never really there. you would never forgive him for cheating, but you could understand him leaving.

sunghoon listened intently, watching your face as you talked about your relationship and what went wrong. he picked out his words, not wanting to be blinded by his lack of disappointment. “you’re not stupid for wanting someone to like you.”

your eyes met his. i want you to like me, you thought to yourself, wishful. “am i stupid for staying even though i knew deep down that it wasn’t really me that he liked?”

“no, doll,” sunghoon replied gently, bracing a hand on your knee. “you’re just disillusioned.”

you chuckled. “you sure you’re not just saying that?”

sunghoon squeezed your knee, giving you comfort that he knew you needed. it would be complicated, you already knew, coping with your feelings for him now that you wouldn’t have jake’s shenanigans to distract you. not that they really ever helped. “you’re young. even your mind has a mind of its own. i think it’s only stupid if you make the same mistake twice.”

you hummed, knowing that that probably wouldn’t be happening. you weren’t the type of person to jump from relationship to relationship. you were too afraid of abandonment for that. you could only handle so many of them before you snapped.

as sunghoon looked at you, he couldn’t help but feel guilty, thinking maybe he should have done more to keep you safe from a boy like that. but you were an adult now, and he was trying to give you the space to take care of yourself on your own. “did you ever really like jake?” he asked after a pause. 

“i think i just liked feeling wanted,” you murmured, ashamed of your own stupidity.

sunghoon let that sink in. he knew you had been dealing with certain insecurities for years, and the thought that he still had yet been able to help you made him feel worthless. “what kind of boyfriend do you want?”

there was a lull of silence as you thought about it thoroughly. you had liked jake because you thought he could be everything you should have wanted, but he wasn’t necessarily your type. “someone who’s tender,” you decided, something jake selectively was. “someone who’s assertive, protective, and takes care of me.”

“mm.”

your heart was racing, but somehow you found the courage to add, “someone like you.”

sunghoon tried to rationalize that, he truly did. in his mind, the idea of wanting someone who embodied the traits of a strong father figure was a perfectly normal desire. but he wasn’t an idiot, and he could hear everything you didn’t say, and recognize the sudden change in your body language.

because you didn’t want a boyfriend; you wanted a father.

sighing, sunghoon relaxes his eyes for a second before he opens them again, taking in how fragile you appear and feel beneath his heavy hands. “doll, you’re my daughter.”

“stepdaughter,” you corrected in a heartbeat.

sunghoon ignored you, continuing, “and you’re so young.”

“i’m eighteen,” you replied, heart thudding so fast you couldn’t stay still. “i’m an adult.”

sunghoon didn’t seem pleased, or convinced for that matter. it was as you feared; he would always see you as this little girl that needed saving. “you may legally be an adult,” sunghoon started, quiet. “but mentally, you are still a little girl.”

that stung. you never knew sunghoon was capable of it until now, but he had really burned you with such few words. your eyes even burned with the threat of tears. “if that’s how you feel,” you murmured, standing up from the sofa.

sunghoon softened, immediately regretting having ever said anything. “doll, wait.”

you didn’t, making a beeline straight for the stairs. you weren’t sure what you were expecting. he thought of himself as your father and he was married to your mother. why would he see you like that?

why did you see him like that?

to make matters worse, sunghoon didn’t follow you. you didn’t turn around, but the lack of footsteps behind you wasn’t lost on your ears. pretending it didn’t bother you, you went to your bedroom, shut the door, and dropped on your bed.

maybe you should have been grateful that your biggest problem in life was unreciprocated feelings. you knew there were all too many things you had to be grateful for, especially things sunghoon provided for you, like education and a nice home and fatherly love. there was no good reason to expect more than that from him. maybe you were just greedy.

or maybe you were needy. at worst, you were a little bit of both, but that wasn’t completely your fault. when bred from incompetence and instability, no one could rationally expect anything but insanity. if no one had ever given you a fair chance at normalcy, then no one could expect you to know how to reinvent yourself into something ordinary.

it was just so exhausting to be continuously rejected, because you were too this or not enough of that. you never knew how to be what anyone wanted. you never knew how to make anyone stay. just once, you wanted someone to care for you the same way you cared about them, and nothing less.

just when you were beginning to accept that you were hopeless, there was a knock on your door. wiping at your eyes, you reluctantly called out, “it’s open.”

sunghoon came in, shutting the door behind him, heart clenching in his chest when he noticed your reddening eyes. “calm down yet?” he asked.

you shrugged your shoulders, but murmured, “i don’t know if i’ll ever calm down.”

he could tell that you didn’t just mean the exchange downstairs; no, whatever storm was raging and rushing within you unbeknownst to him, it was only festering. “i try not to say the wrong things,” sunghoon said, slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of your bed.

you knew that. it was something you had come to like about him. he was careful, loving. it was never his intention to hurt anyone. but he was only human, and humans made mistakes and had lapses in judgment. “maybe you weren’t wrong. maybe i’m just immature.”

“maybe a little bit,” sunghoon told you, frank, but lighthearted. “but i could have said it a little better.”

you rolled your eyes, almost feeling better already. but the faint echo in your heart had yet to cease. “you don’t need to sugarcoat everything for me all the time, you know.”

sunghoon hummed. you were saying that, but he knew that he could break you into pieces if he wanted. tinier, more insignificant pieces than the ones you already were broken into. but he wouldn’t. he was realizing the full scope of power he wielded over you, and now that he knew, he wanted to be cautious. “i think i understand you now.”

your eyes leapt up to his face, almost like you were begging for that to be true. “what do you mean?”

“why you do the things you do,” sunghoon continued, dabbing at a tear that had fallen down your cheeks. “you don’t want a boyfriend. you want a father.”

saying nothing, you fidgeted with your thumbs and held your breath. you weren’t used to having your heart laid flat on the table.

sunghoon stopped you, setting his palm on the back of your hand. “you want me,” he said, making you wish you could disappear. “and that’s why you kept saying that you didn’t really want jake, but never explained to me why you kept dating.”

you leaned your head on his shoulder. “i love you so much, daddy.”

sunghoon’s heart was pounding in ways it hadn’t in a long time. “i know you do, baby girl. but you know that this isn’t right.”

“i don’t care.”

sunghoon sighed. “i’ve known you since you were thirteen, doll.”

“so? am i thirteen right now?”

“no, but you’re barely legal.”

“i’m legal. you don’t need to put unnecessary adverbs in front of it. i’m not some kid, daddy.”

there was no doubt that sunghoon was trying to change your mind, hoping to say something that would make you realize how foolish this was. too bad for him, you were too far gone. “your mother…,” he started. 

“i don’t care,” you repeated a little harsher. “you told me yourself, you basically married her for me. and all she does is leech off you. i know it and you know it. we don’t even know where she is right now. say that you love her more than you love me, say it!”

“i don’t like your tone right now, doll,” sunghoon told you, stern, but level. 

obeying the silent command in his voice, you quietened, murmuring, “i’m sorry, daddy.”

sunghoon sighed, stuck between a rock and a hard place. he put a hand on your thigh. “but you’re right. i do love you more.”

“then, prove it,” you whispered, inviting him. daring him. prove that you love me. prove that you’re just as sick as i am. prove to me that i have you in every way, that i’m not alone.

sunghoon knew that he shouldn’t. he was considering everything you had failed to acknowledge - your mother, his marriage, proper morality, and the fate of his relationship with you. but where he had been ignorant to your fermenting feelings, he hadn’t failed to notice exactly how much you had grown up.

the way your body had matured. the way you’d began coordinating your signature scents into something that was indisputably yours. the way your taste in fashion had changed from fluffy, pink skirts to short ones that were one wrong move away from flashing your plush cheeks and the cute, thin fabric of your underwear clinging tightly onto your cunt it just hardly concealed.

sunghoon had, too, noticed, and been rather fond of, how you were usually the meekest thing in the world only for him. with enough conditioning, in a world that was darker, he could put a gun in your hand and turn you into his little obedient vixen. you just wanted to heal him, please him, satisfy him.

but it would be wrong. and sunghoon had once prided himself on the fact that he did everything right. he got the most compelling grades in school to prove that he had genuine smarts to pair with his wealth, he went to a top university and worked hard, he got a job straight after graduation, met who he thought was the perfect woman, married her, bought a opulent house with her, and had a beautiful daughter with her.

so what if he still had to repeat a couple of steps, and so what if he had messed up on a few? at least he didn’t mess up on you. the only thing he regretted when it came to you was not completely noticing, not doing more to keep you from struggling.

you were more than just a reclaim of what he had lost. sunghoon didn’t think of his first daughter when he thought of you, not anymore. with you getting older and growing into your own person, your own way of life, it was difficult to see her in you. so, he accepted you as your own person, and in turn, he let go.

but that fact didn’t make him feel any less guilty or conflicted. you were still his stepdaughter, and you trusted him to protect you. your mother trusted him to protect you. everybody trusted him to guide you, steer you, lead you.

looking into his brown, troubled eyes, you instantly knew what it meant. he needed some persuasion, something to hinder his overthinking.

“please,” you pleaded, resting a hand on his lower abdomen just as gingerly as the way he handled you in mind and in body. he was still in his work shirt, broad shoulders catching your eye as you succumbed to the urge to rub your smooth palms over them. 

look at you, begging him to fuck you. gazing up at him with those big, hopeful eyes with a shimmer that was so sweetly sparkling he almost mistook it as innocent. but he knew better. those were eyes that hoped for corruption, that sought comfort in destruction, and that were molded into the puppet of pain.

you lowered your hand again, stopping just shy of his crotch hidden by his work pants. fumbling with the fly, you looked into his eyes, searching for something. any indication that he was resisting. but you only saw him watching like even he didn’t know what he wanted.

it was surprising. you had been half expecting him to put his hand over yours and stop you, to remind you again that this was wrong and he didn’t see you how you saw him, but he just kept his eyes focused on you as if he was trying to see just how far you would go.

testing the waters, you undid his pants and went straight for his cock, the sound of a strained grunt making your cunt clench around emptiness. it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. you had imagined pulling those sounds out of sunghoon, closed your eyes and immersed yourself in a resewn fabric of another reality, but nothing measured up to hearing it for yourself.

sunghoon knew that things were rapidly approaching the point of no return and he groaned, “doll…”

“make me stop,” you whispered, gently wrapping your fingers around him and moving your hand in a relaxed motion. “make me stop, daddy.”

it wasn’t for lack of trying. sunghoon closed his eyes, wanting to will himself to be the rational person in the room since you had forwent reason entirely, but the second your small, supple hands tightened around his shaft, he knew he had failed.

he didn’t want you to stop. and you you didn’t want to stop, either.

you beamed victoriously, his silence being a telltale sign that he had succumbed to the same infectious wanting that had long plagued you. you moved your hand only a little faster, endeavoring to stroke him hard. it seemed that with every touch and movement of your wrist, his breathing was growing louder, more labored.

when he was fully hard, you had to suck in a gasp. you weren’t sure how you were going to fit every inch of him inside you, and the only thing that seemed clear was that you had your work cut out for you. nevertheless, you still wanted to make him feel good, so you glanced up at him and said sweetly, “tell me what to do. teach me, daddy.”

you caught a quiet, “fuck,” from underneath sunghoon’s breath as he heard what you had said, on the verge of losing his mind altogether, and it was doing unmistakable damage to his psyche. doing the right thing was no longer an option. all that was left was ache and need. without it, you didn’t know who you were.

releasing a shaky breath, sunghoon brushed his thumb against your bottom lip with affection and whispered, “take it in your mouth. go slow and gentle.”

you nodded your head obediently, opening your mouth just wide enough to fit his girth between your parted lips. the first inch was fine; the second inch had its complications, given that you hadn’t adjusted to the pressure of his cock in your mouth and breathing through your nose. by the third, you folded, withdrawing.

“i’m sorry,” you murmured, feeling like you should have at least been able to do that much.

sunghoon shook his head, smiling, and smoothed a hand through your hair. “that’s okay, baby,” he said, understanding. “try again.”

you sucked him into your mouth again, right between your lips, cheeks hollowed and everything, but for some odd reason, you couldn’t relax. you already felt like you were about to gag and it was only the first couple of inches. when you tried to take another, you had to pull back again.

there was a faint burning in the back of your throat. you didn’t even notice that a few tears had fallen from one of your eyes until you pulled your mouth off. you frowned, unable to shake the fear that you would disappoint him somehow if you couldn’t do it.

“you’re okay,” sunghoon reassured you, patting your head. “you’re okay, doll. i promise.”

with another nod, you decided to give it one more go, determined. not only because you wanted to prove yourself, but because you wanted to make him feel good. you couldn’t think of anyone that deserved it more than he did.

this time, sunghoon held your hair comfortably behind your head and caressed the strands as you tried to pleasure him once more, accepting what you could into your mouth bit by bit. you were less tense than before and it enabled you to concentrate on breathing and not overwhelming yourself too quickly.

afraid that you would gag again if you tried to take another inch, you decided to use your hand to take care of the remaining amount that wouldn’t fit. fortunately, it seemed to work; your mouth kept one part of him company, and your hands moved to prevent the other from becoming too neglected.

sunghoon moaned, curses falling here and there. you could feel the wetness soiling your underwear and he hadn’t even done anything yet. his voice was low and deep, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. minute by minute, you became more and more aware of how aroused you were, and your mind, friend and foe, tempted you with pictures of what it would be like to finally have sunghoon inside.

to your surprise, sunghoon cautiously pried you off his cock, making you look up at him and wonder if you had done something wrong, but all he said was, “i don’t want to come yet.”

your thighs squeezed together in excitement. if not now, then later. and if not in your mouth, then hopefully deep, deep inside.

“daddy,” you called out, somewhat timid. “are you gonna fuck me?”

sunghoon was maybe a few seconds away from short-circuiting and it was admirable that he hadn’t done so already, all things considered. he didn’t reply immediately, having to catch his breath. “do you want me to?”

“yes,” you replied in a heartbeat. 

the room felt hot, and sunghoon couldn’t tell if it was real or it was in his head. “say it.”

it was a little awkward for you to say it so bluntly, but given that you had come this far, you might as well. “i want you to fuck me, daddy.”

sunghoon grunted and said something that sounded like, “come here,” as he gingerly pulled you off your knees and back onto your mattress. before you even blinked, he was pressing his lips to yours, enveloping them in a sweet, fiery kiss. 

it felt like a daydream. maybe because you had dreamed of him before and this captured the exact floaty, cloudlike feeling of his arms cushioning your body in a dream, only the speeding thud in your heart making it undeniably real.

you couldn’t liken it to any kiss that you and jake had shared. while you would admit that jake was objectively a good kisser, almost everything you did together lacked passion; there was no spark behind even the most tender of touches. and yet somehow just being this close to sunghoon made your whole body scorch with the fever of suppressed want.

sunghoon slowly forced himself away and began to descend down your body, tugging your shorts down your thighs. heat filled your cheeks when his fingers hooked under your underwear next, but you raised your hips so that he could pull them off. what caught you by surprise, however, was when his tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh.

you gasped, a jolt making your body snap. “wait, daddy, you don’t need to. i’m already wet enough.”

that you were. sunghoon could see plain as day how your wet folds glistened with an arousal that had been building longer than he could ever imagine, gone ignored and neglected no longer. “i know,” he grunted out. “i want to.”

then without another word, sunghoon went to town. he started slow, gentle; his larger hands were firm on your plush thighs as he held them apart, almost as if he expected you to eventually resist him. for now, though, there was no need; he was tasting your devotion on his tongue, in no apparent hurry to let this moment end.

your breaths were becoming increasingly heavy, and a part of you still couldn’t believe that this was really happening - sunghoon was in between your legs, prepared to make you seen every star that hung in the night sky. you did what you could to commit the sight to memory, refusing to let it get away.

sunghoon wanted to see you unravel. you nearly died when he pressed his tongue deep inside you, abruptly tearing a sweet cry out of your mouth. the muscle wandered over your walls, savoring what he would feel soon enough. but for now, he was more than content to gather every bit of your arousal on the very tip of his tongue and make you feel sensations unimagined.

“god, you taste so good, baby,” sunghoon groaned, hands clamping tightly around your thighs. “so goddamn good.”

it was from that moment forward he lost control; his self-restraint broke; he was consumed with abandon. sunghoon licked and sucked at your bundle of nerves, drawing out more noises than before. your hips jerked as you laid sprawled out before him, entirely at his mercy. 

just the way you always wanted.

“does that feel good, baby?” sunghoon pulled away for the shortest second to ask. “do you want me to slow down?”

you shook your head, hands desperately fisting the sheets. “no, please. don’t slow down. down stop,” you begged. 

hearing you say that only made sunghoon harder, but he was still a man with some inhibitions if it meant drawing out the pleasure you felt at his hands. “just tell me if you need me to switch things up, okay?”

then he went back to work. this time he steadily worked two fingers into you, and you knew without a shred of doubt that you were positively ruined. they were long and thick, much more compared to yours; you would probably feel his cock for days to come.

you could feel yourself devolving into pure madness. sunghoon’s fingers were working you open at the same time his tongue flicked over your clit, and you could hardly keep still, your body convulsing every which way. if not for how tight his hands were around your trembling thighs, you wouldn’t have been able to keep them spread for him.

“daddy, please don’t stop. i think i’m gonna come,” you said between quick pants. 

“i know, baby girl. just relax for me.”

with every nerve in your body going haywire, you felt anything but relaxed. between your thudding heartbeat and the ecstasy shooting its way through your spine, your body was bursting at the seams with fervor. but you tried for him. you couldn’t think, at least. there was too much physical stimulation to allow for passing thoughts.

sunghoon only had only goal in mind and that was to make you feel nothing short of the absolute peak of pleasure. he could see what things your body was responding to best and he took advantage of every reaction you had to offer, twisting his tongue the way you so clearly loved.

you couldn’t handle it anymore, and something within you snapped; you cried out, back arching off your fluffy pink bed, jake and the stupid stuffed toys the furthest thing on your mind as warmth fluttered in your stomach.

“that’s it, doll,” sunghoon crooned. “you’re okay, baby. i promise. just let go.”

all the while, his fingers didn’t stop as he spoke. they kept moving as he assured you between gentle kisses to your thighs, almost as restless as your entire body was. “daddy,” you whimpered, thoroughly wrecked.

“i know,” sunghoon whispered, lips flush against your skin. “you did so good, doll. so good for me.”

sunghoon got up from his knees and draped himself over your body, leaning down to kiss you breathless. though you tried to ignore it, you could feel his hard cock pressing against you and just the feeling itself was mouthwatering.

“so perfect,” sunghoon murmured, pulling back to pepper kisses down your jaw. “did you really think daddy wasn’t gonna make sure his doll was taken care of?”

you had nothing to say, so you just watched him begin to peel off what was left of both of your clothes, piece by piece. when you completely naked, you noticed sunghoon’s unbudging eyes stuck to your figure. “do you think i’m pretty, daddy?” you asked with a smile. 

“pretty?” he murmured, brows stitched in amazement. “you’re… you’re beautiful, doll. don’t you forget it.”

you wanted to hear him say that a thousand times over.

even as sunghoon moved to reposition himself between your legs, you could hardly believe that this was actually - genuinely - happening. but every touch of his body had felt so real, and you’d dreamed of moments like this enough to know the difference. giving you one last chance to back out, sunghoon asked, “are you sure you want to do this, baby?”

“please,” you begged. the brushing of his tip against your slick folds made your mouth run dry. “i need it. i need you.”

that was all it took for sunghoon to push inside you, slow and steady as ever. you sucked in a breath, your hands already clenching the sheets again as he coaxed the head of his cock deeper inside your sticky cunt.

“oh my god,” you gasped out. 

sunghoon chuckled. “i’m barely inside you, baby.”

you knew that, but the feeling of him inside you even this far was enough to make your mind unravel. you’d imagined that it would be a tight fit, but despite him preparing you to take him, that seemed like an understatement. though you were nothing if not purely determined. you would take all of him, no matter how long it took.

sunghoon’s brows furrowed the deeper he sunk into you, his jaw slacked. “god, you’re so tight,” he murmured. to sunghoon, this was the moment that cemented everything into reality, the moment that made everything true. the tight, wet feel of you stretching around his cock as he moved deeper and deeper was too insane to be imagined even if he tried. and he had tried.

your chest and core fluttered at the compliment. you enjoyed the praise. knowing that you were satisfying him, that you were pleasuring him the way he was pleasuring you, was something that filled you with an immense sense of accomplishment. there was nothing you wanted more than to serve him, than to be his girl.

sunghoon took his time, still hardly moving. every time he heard you abruptly suck in a gasp, his hips ground to a stop, wanting to give you time to adjust. he knew better than anyone that he wasn’t lacking in the size category, and the last thing he wanted was to make his sweet girl’s first time uncomfortable. for the right reasons, he wanted to give you a time to remember.

“do you need a minute, doll?” he asked, one brow lifted as he glanced down at you.

you shook your head. “no, it’s okay. you can keep going.”

“you sure?” he pressed. it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t dying to move even deeper, but not at your expense.

not to mention that your mother probably wouldn’t return until after midnight, but that was another conversation.

“i’m sure, daddy,” you replied, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. you didn’t want him to look away. “don’t stop.”

“fuck,” sunghoon groaned. you watched his lips part with the noise and felt his cock become buried further inside your cunt, working you open for him. he was taking his sweet time, because you both knew that if he was going to destroy you, he was going to make every second of it count.

“daddy, are you almost done?” you asked quietly. 

“halfway, babe,” sunghoon told you.

you gawked. “halfway?”

sunghoon shushed you with a kiss, pushing himself yet another inch within your heat. he couldn’t wrap his mind around how perfect you felt around his cock and he wasn’t even fully seated inside you yet. you tried to focus on the way his lips moved against yours, but not even that could distract you from how he was stretching you out beyond belief.

“daddy, you’re so big,” you whined. 

“i know, baby girl,” sunghoon replied softly, a hint of guilt on his face. “almost there, i promise. does it hurt?”

“a little bit,” you admitted. “but i can take it.”

sunghoon swept his finger over your bottom lip. “you sure, baby?”

you nodded your head. for him, you were convinced that you could do anything. and on top of that, there were no bounds to the things that you would do for him.

when sunghoon’s length had finally penetrated you to the very end, he stilled again, giving you a moment to recover before he started. it felt like an eternity before he actually moved, but when you gave him a nod of approval, he slowly drew back and penetrated you again. you were at a lost for words. nothing had ever been inside you that deeply. there were your fingers and maybe a hair brush, but neither rivaled the depth of your stepfather’s thick cock as he began to take you like you were his. 

because you were.

“jesus christ,” sunghoon hissed. “you feel so good, doll. do you know that?”

“you feel good too,” you stammered out.

sunghoon took that as a sign that he was doing everything right, which was more than enough for him to relax. his mind was reeling. the mere wet sound of your skin meeting was making him lose control, and that was to say nothing of your pretty moans. the way you desperately called out for him was almost too much to bear.

you reciprocated his feelings. with every deep, guttural grunt that escaped sunghoon’s mouth, your body was less and less yours. he owned you, head to toe, inside out. you were more than prepared to surrender everything to him, to let him claim all that you were. because you relied on him. you needed him. and little did you know, in some twisted way, he needed you even more.

sunghoon’s hands were balled at your sides, clenching the sheets fiercely. he dreaded hurting you, but imagine his surprise when you grabbed a hold of his hands and redirected them to your perfect hips. “you can hold me, daddy,” you reassured him. “please. i won’t break.”

and even if you did, you were willing to let him put you back together. sunghoon could feel whatever remained of his restraint crumbling into pieces, and he held your hips in his palms tightly, his eyes boring into yours. his gaze, as relentless as it was, wasn’t challenging; it was piercing, loving, understanding. he saw you, he knew you, because you were familiar. you were what kept him whole.

something made sunghoon hold you even tighter. there was a thought that struck him. you needed him to take care of you, to depend upon, to guide you. and he needed you to bring back a purpose which was unfairly stolen from him. he knew it was wrong, that it was sick, but it couldn’t be helped. you had become everything to him, and there was no way in hell he was going to let that go.

“i need you,” he panted, his hips keeping a comfortable pace that you seemed to enjoy, judging from how you continued to throb and moan. “i need you so much, doll. you don’t understand.”

you shook your head, arms wrapped around his neck. you wanted to be inseparably close. “i do understand, daddy,” you insisted. “i need you too.”

sunghoon felt heat surging through his stomach. he said your name. “i love you.”

your lips curled into a smile. your body shook with rapture, so much that you thought you could cry. “i love you too, daddy. i love you so much. i’d let you have me whenever. i’m yours and i wanna take care of you.”

“mine?” sunghoon repeated, so quietly it could have gone unheard if not for how close his face was to yours.

you nodded your head. 

sunghoon prodded, “all mine? and not that stupid little boy you call a boyfriend?”

the mere mention of jake made you feel disgust and you knew that you were over him, for good. “won’t see him anymore, daddy. i promise. i never wanted him. i always really just wanted you.”

sunghoon didn’t even bother willing himself to keep calm after he heard you say that. he was insane about you and he didn’t care to hide it anymore. “always?” he repeated.

you hummed. “the first time i came was on that bunny rabbit right there.” you turned your head to gesture towards the stuffed animal.

sunghoon saw it and his eyes darkened as he pictured you mounting the poor bunny, grinding your hips against it as you wished and hoped and prayed it’d soon enough be him bringing you pleasure. he wondered exactly how many times you had used it. how many times you had thought of him.

you cried out as his hips began slap against yours faster, but you took it. sunghoon wasn’t particularly rough, but each thrust drove you closer to insanity than the last. wrapping your legs around your waist, you drew him closer, your arms around his neck and his big hands firm at your hips. “fuck,” you stammered.

“you think about me a lot?” sunghoon asked. 

you nodded your head eagerly. “yes, all the time!”

sunghoon was unrelenting. he lowered his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, before he let it fall and pressed, “how much do you think about me?”

“every day,” you told him honestly. “there’s not one day… where i don’t.”

“every day?” sunghoon repeated. “you think about me fucking you every day?”

“sometimes i dream about it,” you confessed.

sunghoon groaned. he had dreamed of you too. he had constantly tried not to think about you in that light, but he couldn’t help what he dreamed of. “i dream about you too,” he whispered. “of making love to you and fucking you full of my cum. will you let me, doll?”

“yes,” you answered him without a second of hesitation. “please, daddy. come inside me!”

sunghoon almost came just from hearing those words, but he couldn’t yet. not before he felt you tighten around his cock with climax. removing his hand from his hip, he began to toy with your sensitive clit, eager and desperate to make you come, to see you come, to feel you come.

your body arched into his hand, knowing who its owner was and willing to submit to his every whim. it felt like your mind was floating somewhere between earth and heaven, lost in space where there was no life, no time. only infinity.

it wasn’t long before your vision brightened white and you swore you could see every star. your legs tightened their grip around his waist as you shuddered with ecstasy, and your mouth hung open as you moaned.

“that’s it,” sunghoon crooned. “good girl. you’re amazing, doll.”

you stilled after a moment, sated. 

the sensation of your cunt gushing tightly around him as you orgasmed made sunghoon moan himself, and you listened to the sounds of your heat kneading his cock as he used your cunt to push himself to the end. it had felt so good to you too; having something to grip on as you came made the experience all that much better.

“come for me, daddy,” you said, trying to coax the orgasm out of him. “come inside your doll… i need it.”

that did it. hearing you referring to yourself as his doll sent him completely over the edge and you gasped out loud when you felt sunghoon dumping his thick, sticky hot load into your cunt with the deepest grunt of your name. it was so good, so warm. you held eye contact with him the entire time, not once daring to look away even as his hips slowed to a stop.

for a long moment, you both simply lay there in each other’s arms, neither of you wanting to move when you were this close. but you did pull him in for another heated kiss, because you couldn’t think of another way to somehow bring yourself even closer. sunghoon kissed you back passionately, holding your body against his protectively, almost as if he was afraid you’d be taken from him too.

you thought nothing could ruin the moment. then, out of the blue, your phone rang. you and sunghoon both let out a collective sigh of exasperation and you withdrew to peak at your phone on your nightstand, wholeheartedly expecting it to be your mother.

your eyes went wide when you saw that it was jake.

and you wouldn’t have answered it, but you needed to call it quits anyway. though you initially planned to meet him in person, in that moment, you decided he didn’t deserve to see you again in his life. “hello?” you answered.

“baby, you picked up,” jake said, sounding amazed. “listen to me, baby. i’m so sorry i haven’t been answering your calls. i just needed some space, you understand that, right?”

before he could utter another word, the phone was abruptly snatched from your hands. “don’t call my daughter again, or i swear to god, i will find you, and then i will fuck you up,” sunghoon hissed. 

he hung up without another word and tossed the phone to the side.

you gawked at his words, but you both felt the way you’d throbbed. “daddy!”

“quiet,” sunghoon said, withdrawing from inside you. “now show me what you did to the bunny.”

[cyjhhyj]

𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙢𝙜… 𝙄'𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙚

[cyjhhyj]

I want him so badly

[cyjhhyj]

𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐄’𝐒 𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘

Sunghoon never wanted to leave the city and move to the countryside. But one day, his view shifted. And all it took was a girl, a lullaby, and a young doe.

✴︎ pairing: sunghoon x reader

𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁, 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗿𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲, 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗼𝗻𝗱, 𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲, 𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗸𝗲𝘆 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗱, 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 ✴︎ 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗴𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗳, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵, 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘃𝘂𝗹𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴

7k words

(words cannot describe how in love i am with this one, please give it a read. i think you’ll love it.)

Sunghoon hated how the countryside smelled like nothing and everything at once. Like rain-soaked bark. Like something sweet fermenting in the grass. Like air so clean it made him dizzy. The village his family moved to didn’t have a name on most maps. Just a ribbon of cottages winding through wildflower fields, guarded by stone fences older than the people who lived inside them. Even the sky felt wider here, like it had forgotten how to hold itself together. There were no sidewalks, just dirt paths. No convenience stores, only village markets and a woman who sold honey on her front porch and smiled like she’d known Sunghoon and his family in a past life.

His parents called it a fresh start. He called it a prison sentence.

They moved there with hopes of starting a new, better life. His mother said she needed space to breathe again. His father said that too many years of enduring the city lights had turned his mind to static. And his little sister… well, she was just happy to see cows up close. So they left. Their apartment in Seoul was emptied out in two weekends, and by the third, Sunghoon found himself standing on a gravel driveway beside a wooden gate that creaked like a dying piano.

Nothing in this place moved fast. Not the sun, not the people, not time itself. The nights weren’t quiet, they were too alive. The crickets screamed. The owls stared. The floorboards of the old house moaned like something underneath wanted out. Everything smelled like pine and earth and woodsmoke, and even his dreams felt different, hollow and unfamiliar.

He missed the pulse of the city. The way it thrummed under his shoes, always moving, always carrying him somewhere. He missed anonymous crowds, trains full of strangers, neon signs bleeding color into the streets at two in the morning. He missed the feeling of urgency, of noise.

So he walked. Out of the house. Past the stone fence. Along the river trail that carved its way like a silver ribbon through a patchwork of meadows and forests. The stream beside him whispered secrets to the stones. Every now and then, a breeze dipped into the reeds and pulled a shiver from the leaves. The path narrowed into wildflowers. Violets, buttercups, and tall grass laced with dragonflies adorned the ground. Sunghoon ducked a low-hanging branch and nearly slipped on a wet rock, steadying himself with a muttered curse.

Then he heard it. A voice. Singing.

Soft, unsure in places, but clear. The kind of voice that made the forest itself listen. 

Sunghoon moved toward it before he could stop himself, drawn as if the sound had fingers curled into his shirt collar, tugging gently. Up ahead, beneath the boughs of an old willow whose branches swept the earth, someone was kneeling in the grass, folded in the moment as if they belonged there more than the tree itself.

You.

The dress you wore was off-white, worn thin at the hem, the kind of thing passed down between sisters or found tucked in a chest that smelled like dried lavender. The sleeves had slipped slightly off your shoulders, exposing the smooth curve of your collarbones. You wore no shoes. Your bare feet were tucked under you, your ankles resting softly against the moss.

Beside you, curled in the shape of trust, was a young doe.

Her legs were folded neatly under her body, head resting lightly against your thigh. You stroked her back in slow, patient motions, like you knew the exact weight and rhythm needed to keep her calm. The doe lay completely still, save for the slow rise and fall of her chest. One ear flicked as you ran your fingers along her neck, your touch so gentle it might’ve been the breeze.

And you sang to her as if she were a human child. Not loudly. Not for attention. Your voice was meant only for the young doe resting beside you, and perhaps for the trees that leaned in to listen, or for the quiet spirits lingering in the shadows, cradling the moment.

Little one, lie still now, The daylight’s gone to rest. The leaves will make your pillow, The wind will warm your chest. No need to keep from sleeping, Your life is just beginning, I found you in the clearing, Just breathing. Just alone. Lie calm within my hold, No danger, no alarm. For in this quiet moment, You rest away from harm.

Your voice wasn’t perfect. It wavered in places, caught slightly on the breeze. But it was real. Sweet and whisper-soft, like the hush between raindrops. The kind of voice that felt like warm hands and chamomile tea. There was something ancient in your stillness. A quietness not born of shyness, but peace. You didn’t just exist in this place. You belonged to it.

He should have left.

He should have stepped back, turned around, preserved the moment the way it deserved to be left, untouched and unspoiled. But he didn’t. He shifted his weight, and his heel snapped a twig beneath him.

Crack.

The doe bolted. Gone in a blink. A flash of legs, a blur of fear. Vanished into the trees as if she had never trusted anything at all. The song died instantly. You turned your head slowly and looked at him. Not startled. Just… disappointed. You stood, brushing your dress gently with one hand, the other still hanging at your side where the doe had been.

He raised his hands as if that could undo it.

“I didn’t mean to—” he began.

“If you’re going to walk through the forest,” you cut him off, “you should learn how to do it quietly.” And without waiting for a reply, you turned and walked deeper into the willow’s green veil, your figure fading into shadow and silk until he could no longer tell if you were real or something the woods had dreamed up for themselves.

He stood there long after you disappeared, swallowed by the willow and whatever stillness had claimed you. The hush returned slowly. The birds, emboldened by silence, began to chirp again, cautiously. The stream continued its whispering. And Sunghoon… he stayed still, as if moving would wake him from a dream.

He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. His heart was still thudding. Not loudly, not urgently. That wasn’t normal. He’d been here for two weeks, and nothing had made him feel anything other than bored or bitter. He hadn’t expected the woods to offer something like this. Like you.

Who the hell were you?

Sunghoon turned back toward the path, his shoes scuffed against the roots as he walked, but he was careful now. Quieter. Not for the forest’s sake, but for yours.

He couldn’t stop replaying it. The way your voice had curled around the lyrics. The way your hand never left the doe’s back until the very last second. The way you looked at him like he’d stepped into a painting with muddy boots.

He tried to rationalize it. Perhaps you were just a local girl, someone accustomed to having this place to yourself. Maybe the young doe had been orphaned, and you were taking care of her. Maybe that song was something you sang to her every day, a doe’s lullaby.

Still, he couldn’t shake the guilt. He had seen something rare, but interrupted it.

When he finally reached the edge of his family’s property, the gravel crunched under his feet like it had been waiting for him to return. The house stood quiet. Ivy curling up one corner of the porch, the swing creaking slowly in the breeze like it had something to say but forgot the words. Sunghoon stepped inside and shut the door with more care than usual. He didn’t go to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Didn’t check his phone. Didn’t complain to his sister about the smell of manure wafting in from the neighbor’s cows.

Instead, he went to his room, pulled the curtains aside, and stared at the woods. They looked different now. Like the whole forest had a secret it wasn’t ready to share. And you, whoever you were, were part of it.

He didn’t know your name, not yet. But he knew your song.

The village market woke with a deliberate slowness, as if it were reluctant to disturb the peaceful dawn that still lingered in the folds of the fields and forests beyond. Morning mist clung to the edges of wooden stalls, softening the edges of baskets piled high with wild herbs, freshly picked roots, and bundles of dried flowers. The air was cool and sweet, carrying the mingled scents of earth and dew, honey and moss.

Sunghoon moved through the quiet bustle with a tentative pace, hands deep in the pockets of his jacket, eyes darting between the colorful displays and the few villagers beginning their day. The market wasn’t much, just a handful of stalls set along the dusty main road, but it held an old charm that the city could never offer.

He watched a woman carefully wrap sprigs of lavender in faded brown paper, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Nearby, a man with weathered hands balanced a tray of freshly baked bread, the crust crackling gently as steam rose from the warm loaves.

Sunghoon was about to turn away when a sudden movement caught his eye—a small child, no more than five or six, tangled in the crowd, her fingers gripping a woman’s dress as she looked around with wide, uncertain eyes. The child’s soft breath came in quick, shallow bursts, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar noise and faces.

And then he saw you.

You knelt beside the child, your Mary Janes pressed lightly against the wooden floorboards of a stall. The hem of your pastel purple dress brushed the earth in soft folds, worn thin at the edges like something treasured for years. Your fingers moved gently, brushing back a loose strand of hair from the child’s forehead as you spoke in a voice soft enough to calm a storm. He remembered that voice, the lullaby you sang beneath the willow tree. It was the same voice now, quiet but steady, weaving invisible threads of comfort and safety around the trembling child.

“You should not be alone here,” you said quietly to the child, who nodded, tears brimming but held back. Sunghoon’s heart tightened at the scene. This fragile moment where you, a stranger, had stepped into the role of protector. He stepped closer, the gravel crunching beneath his boots, “It's you,” he said quietly.

You met his gaze, a flicker of something curious and guarded in your eyes. “Yes, but let’s keep that conversation for later. Right now, we need to find her parents.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the child’s fragile frame as she clung to your side like a lifeline in the unfamiliar crowd. Around you, the market’s gentle murmur seemed to recede into the background, swallowed by the quiet urgency that settled between you. Then he crouched down beside you, his voice low and careful. “Has she said anything about where they might be?” 

“She said she was holding her mother’s hand,” you murmured, your voice barely more than breath. “Then she turned to look at the beeswax candles. When she looked back… her mother wasn’t there.”

A silence settled over the three of you. One that felt heavier than noise, solemn and still, like the hush before grief has fully bloomed. Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on the little girl’s small form, her face tucked into the folds of your dress as if she believed disappearing inside it might make everything right again. And he watched the way you held that fear without flinching, how your stillness offered her something to hold onto.

“We’ll walk through the market,” you said, your tone warm but steady, like a branch bent low enough for someone smaller to climb. “Someone must have seen her mother. We’ll ask. We’ll find her.”

Sunghoon nodded once. “Let's check by the candle stall. If that’s where she last saw her, someone might’ve noticed.” The little girl didn’t protest as you gently took her hand again, coaxing her to walk. She followed without a word, her other hand clutching the fabric of your dress. 

The three of you wove carefully through the sleepy market. Morning sun began to stretch across the road in golden threads, catching the soft glint of glass jars, the shimmer of ribbon-tied bundles, the sway of drying herbs strung between beams. Vendors smiled in recognition, but you offered only brief nods in return, too focused on the little girl to engage.

Sunghoon stepped ahead slightly, making his way to the vendor with the beeswax candles — a thin man with delicate hands and sleeves dusted in pollen-yellow. He asked in a low voice, pointing discreetly to the girl clinging to your side. The vendor’s brows rose in recognition.

“Yes,” he said, “there was a woman. She looked frightened, searching and calling. I sent her down toward the river bend, said she might have better luck there.”

Sunghoon thanked him and turned back to you. Your eyes met his, steadier now, more open, but still unreadable.

“She’s probably still looking,” he said quietly.

You nodded once and knelt to the little girl’s level, brushing a thumb gently across her cheek. “We know where to go now,” you told her. “Your mother is nearby.” The little girl didn’t answer, but she reached for your hand again. You stood, lifting her effortlessly into your arms. She tucked her face into the crook of your neck without hesitation, her tiny fingers curling into your sleeves like roots seeking earth.

Sunghoon walked beside you without speaking. There was no need. The hush between you was full of questions, of memory, of some gentle tether that had begun to form in the space between willow leaves and now stretched through a quiet road under a waking sky.

He glanced at you, noticing the way your steps remained careful even when your arms were full, the way your breath didn’t waver, the way you let the little girl cling without flinching. You didn’t just calm her, you carried her, in a way that was more than physical. He couldn’t help but wonder: Who carries you when you're the one afraid?

The question didn’t reach his lips. It stayed there, quiet and unanswered, like a pebble resting on the tongue — small, but impossible to ignore.

You walked with purpose down the narrow path that led toward the river bend, the hush of the market giving way to birdsong and the rustling hush of reeds. The air shifted here. It was fresher, touched with the cool breath of moving water. Light filtered through the leaves above, casting rippling shadows on the path ahead. The little girl stirred slightly in your arms, murmuring something only you could hear. You nodded, whispering something back, and Sunghoon watched the way her shoulders eased just a fraction. You had that effect, soothing storms in the quietest way.

“I think I hear someone calling,” you said suddenly.

Sunghoon paused, tilting his head. And then, faintly, there it was: a woman’s voice, cracking through the morning air, each breathless call laced with desperation. The little girl lifted her head at once.

“Momma?”

The sound was no louder than a whisper, but it rang like a bell in Sunghoon’s chest.

You stopped walking. The child wriggled in your arms, reaching instinctively toward the sound. You turned toward the voice, your arms loosening just enough to let the girl down gently, your hand still resting at the center of her back like a lighthouse beam.

The woman came around the bend moments later, her face drawn with panic, eyes wild until they landed on the small figure in front of her. “My baby!” she gasped, falling to her knees as the girl ran toward her. They collided in a tangle of arms and sobs, the mother’s voice breaking with relief. “I thought I lost you, I thought—”

The little girl said nothing. She simply pressed her face into her mother’s shoulder and held on with everything she had. You took a small step back, the movement quiet and instinctual, as if leaving space for the scene to unfold. Sunghoon watched the tension ease from your shoulders, a slow exhale you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

The mother looked up at you, eyes glassy. “Thank you,” she whispered, clutching her daughter close. “Thank you for finding her.” You gave a small nod, not expecting or needing anything more. Just watching them, letting it settle into the air like a closing prayer.

As the mother turned away, leading her daughter back toward the market, a hush settled between you and Sunghoon once more—deeper now, fuller, steeped in everything unspoken. You stood beside him, your dress fluttering softly in the morning breeze, eyes still trailing after the pair in the distance. “She was so small,” you murmured.

He glanced sideways. “She trusted you.”

You didn’t respond right away.

The breeze curled softly around the hem of your dress as you stood staring down the path where the little girl and her mother had vanished. The moment should’ve felt complete. Someone found, someone returned. But it left a strange aching in your chest.

“She reminded me of myself,” you said slowly, your voice low and tethered to a distant place inside you. “I was young,” you went on. “Too young to understand how quickly a familiar place can become foreign. I wandered away from a crowd, maybe at a festival, maybe at a gathering. I don’t remember much of what came before. Just the part where I was suddenly… not anywhere I knew.”

You didn’t look at him as you spoke. Your eyes were fixed on the treeline ahead, where the mist still clung between the tall grass and the reaching birches, like the memory itself was stitched into the land.

“I didn’t cry right away. I remember that,” you said with a faint, almost amused chuckle. “I think I thought I could find my way back. But the more I walked, the more the silence grew. It got heavier.” Your voice faltered, just slightly. And then you went on.

“I sat down underneath a willow tree. Curled up and crying. And after a while… she came.”

“She?” Sunghoon asked softly.

“A doe… full-grown, ears tall, eyes the color of wet soil. She didn’t run when she saw me. She just… stood there. Watching. Not afraid. Not curious, either. Just still, as if she knew. She looked at me with the kind of calm that makes you believe you're safe without even knowing why,” you continued. “All of a sudden, she turned and began to walk.”

You looked at him then, and there was a softness behind your gaze that felt older than the moment.

“So I followed.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, the memory still vivid in your heart. “She led me to the edge of a dirt path, one I recognized. And then she disappeared back into the trees.”

“Over time, I began to visit her, finding solace beneath those drooping willow branches, bringing with me a lullaby,” You looked up, voice thickening with the weight of years. “The one you heard in the forest.”

Sunghoon’s brow furrowed, sensing the depth beneath your words.

“One day, she wasn’t alone. A young doe, tentative and shy, followed close behind her mother. I sang to that little one, the same lullaby, and she listened.” Your lips curved with a bittersweet smile. “We shared a quiet understanding, a bond spoken in a melody.”

“But then,” your voice faltered, “the mother stopped coming. The clearing felt emptier, quieter.” You swallowed hard, the ache of that loss settling around your heart. “The young doe returned alone, waiting beneath the willow tree, carrying the memory of her mother’s calm.”

You took a slow breath, the memory settling softly around you. “I swore to myself I would look after her, that I would keep her safe.” Your voice softened, almost reverent.

Sunghoon was quiet for a long moment, as if afraid to speak too soon and disturb the delicate air your story had cast around you both. He glanced sideways, replaying the scene he saw during his walk yesterday. He remembered the way your hands moved over the doe’s fur, careful and reverent, each stroke full of quiet tenderness. And your voice weaving through the night like a delicate thread.

“That was her, wasn’t it? Last night”

You didn’t answer at first. The breeze shifted the hem of your dress, threading the silence like it knew to step softly here. You nodded eventually.

“Yes.”

Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on you, as if trying to hold onto something fragile before it slipped away. “I never expected to see something like that,” he murmured, voice low and a little rough. “It was so…beautiful. You looked beautiful.”

You, cheeks tinted red, looked down at your hands, folding one over the other. The evening shadows lengthened around you, the world dimming into muted blues and silvers. The scent of damp earth and willow leaves hung faintly in the air, mixing with the quiet rhythm of your breathing. After a long pause, you spoke softly,

“I should go.”

He nodded, slow and understanding. “I’ll walk with you,” he offered.

Together, you moved away from the river bend, your footsteps light on the soft earth. The trees seemed to lean in closer, their shadows deepening as the moon climbed higher. Neither of you spoke. Words felt unnecessary, heavy against the quiet that stretched between you.

At the edge of the path, where the forest gave way to the flicker of distant lights, Sunghoon looked at you, his eyes searching yours one last time. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For sharing… for trusting me.”

You gave a small, almost shy smile. “Thank you for listening. My name is y/n, by the way.”

“Mine's Sunghoon.”

A pause settled, thick with everything left unsaid. You smiled and gently turned away, your dress whispering against the grass as you made your way home. Sunghoon watched you go, the fading outline of your figure folding into the shadows, carrying with it the quiet strength of the story you had shared.

And with that, the night closed softly behind you both.

Once every year, when summer stretched out its long, honeyed days into warm evenings and the earth smelled faintly of blooming wildflowers, the village gathered for its bright, magical night — the lantern festival. It was a celebration stitched together from simple things: laughter spilling from wooden stalls, the warm glow of countless lights hung like stars caught in trees, and the steady hum of music weaving through the narrow lanes.

Strings of paper lanterns bobbed gently overhead, their soft amber light painting the faces of old friends and strangers alike in hues of gold and rose. The smell of roasted chestnuts, sweet cider, and baked apples drifted through the air, mixing with the sound of children’s giggles and the clatter of wooden games. Around every corner, neighbors traded stories beneath fairylights fluttering in the gentle spring breeze, and the world felt a little smaller, a little kinder, if only for one night.

The carnival was alive with color and sound. Bunting in bright reds, blues, and yellows fluttered above the winding streets, while the stalls overflowed with handcrafted trinkets, delicate glass birds, embroidered scarves, and tiny carved wooden animals. Music spilled from the center square, where a fiddler and a flutist played a tune that was as old as the village itself, inviting even the shyest to tap their feet and sway.

But amid this warm glow and laughter, not everyone found comfort.

You walk slowly, your shoulders curled inward like you’re trying to shrink, to fold yourself smaller than your shadow. The festival moves around you, a tide of movement and music and joy, and yet you feel like driftwood washed up on the edge of it all. You're old enough to stand among the young adults now, the ones who carry alcoholic drinks in glass bottles and speak in lowered voices about jobs and marriages and dreams, but they still look at you like a mystery they don’t want to solve.

Or worse, a joke they never get tired of laughing at.

“There she is, our little freak. Do you think she still speaks to animals?” one girl hisses to her friends, not bothering to lower her voice. “She probably thinks the lanterns talk to her too,” another girl answers, lips curling in a sugar-sweet sneer. 

You try to ignore it. You try to walk faster, eyes fixed on the glowing cobblestones beneath your boots, letting the music and chatter wash over you like water. But the tide pulls you in anyway. “Don’t get too close to her,” a boy murmurs in mock warning, pulling his friend’s sleeve. “She’ll curse you. Turn you into a toad or something.”

Their laughter rings again, louder now, emboldened by each other's cruelty. Their drinks slosh in their hands as they double over, eyes never leaving you. And it’s not just their voices now. You catch a few glances from the surrounding crowd, the way someone’s brows twitch upward, how someone else whispers behind their palm. You don’t even know when your breathing starts to crack. Tears blur the warm lantern glow into soft, spinning halos. Your throat tightens as if your heart is trying to crawl up and escape through your mouth.

“Hey, maybe she’ll fly off on a broom tonight. Right after she sings lullabies to the squirrels.”

You don’t remember the exact moment your legs started moving, only the rushing sound in your ears and the heat prickling behind your eyes. You shove through the crowd, past paper lanterns swaying gently in the wind, past the sweet scent of cinnamon. You run, faster than you mean to, clutching your hands to your chest like you could hold the pieces of yourself together just a little longer.

You don’t see him.

But Sunghoon sees you.

He’s just arrived at the square, drawn in by the music and the soft firelight. He’s weaving his way past a stall selling flower crowns when he hears the laughter. Not the good kind. Not the kind that belongs at festivals.

And then he sees your back. Your hair flying behind you, your shoulders shaking, your hands fisted tight at your sides as you bolt from the lantern-lit square like the night itself is chasing you. He sees the group of people, smug and sparkling with cruelty, their chuckles dying out one by one as they notice him staring.

“One more laugh,” he says, quiet enough that they have to lean in to hear it, “and I’ll make sure none of you forget what it feels like to be humiliated in front of a crowd. Don't test me.”

They blink at him, startled and half-drunk on their own cruelty, not expecting anyone to bite back. Sunghoon doesn’t wait for them to recover. He doesn’t care to. The music behind him plays on, too cheery for the sharp tension. His steps are slow, measured, as he turns away from them, and then he starts running.

Towards the edge of the festival. Towards the darkening tree line.

Towards you.

The willow appears like a ghost rising from the earth—its long silver-green fronds swaying gently in the late summer wind, lit only by the nearest flickers of lantern light, golden and trembling. The same willow you always ran to as a kid. The one place you thought nobody would ever think to look.

But he finds you there. Collapsed on the grass. Breathless and trembling and small in the way that breaks him. Your knees are pulled to your chest, and your hands are knotted into the hem of your dress. Like you’re trying to disappear into yourself. You don’t hear him at first. All you can hear are their voices, still echoing every cruel syllable in your head like a song you can’t unlearn.

Then, the softest crunch of a step echoes behind you. 

Your spine straightens instinctively, but your body doesn’t move. Your throat is tight, hot with shame you don't deserve to carry. And then his voice, low and steady and unfamiliar in its gentleness.

 "Hey." 

One word.

But it slices through the silence like a blade, and you finally turn your head, only slightly. Just enough to see him standing there, backlit by the flicker of a single wayward lantern caught in the willow’s limbs. He doesn’t look smug. Or amused. Or curious.

He looks furious.

Not at you. For you.

You see it in the way his jaw tenses. The way his eyes flicker like there’s still fire burning behind them. The kind of fury that doesn’t come from insult, but from witnessing someone else's wound. And yet, when he speaks again, it’s softer.

“You okay?” A stupid question. A gentle one. You hate it. You let out a breath that’s part laugh, part sob. “Do I look okay?”

He doesn’t flinch. Just steps closer. Still no pressure. Still no sudden moves. Like he knows you’ll bolt again if he breathes wrong. But then, quietly, almost like he’s offering a dare, “You want me to deal with them?”

You look up. Really look at him. There’s something unreadable in his face. Something dark and unrelenting. Not performative. Not for show. Raw. And dangerous. Like he’d do it, ruin every one of them in ways they’d never forget. 

So you shake your head, “No… but thank you.”

He nods once. Like he understands. Like he respects it. And then he sits beside you. Not touching. Just there. Close enough to feel the warmth of his shoulder. Close enough that your trembling slows, just slightly, in the silence that follows. Neither of you speaks. But something settles. Something that says: You’re not alone anymore.

The silence stretches between you, thick and fragile, until a soft, almost hesitant rustle breaks it. From the shadows beyond the willow’s low-hanging branches, a pale shape steps forward, delicate and trembling, like a creature born of light itself.

Your friend, the young doe, steps into the moonlight. Her coat gleams softly, almost ethereal, blending with the silver-green leaves swaying above. She pauses, as if sensing the weight that hangs in the air, the quiet sorrow mingling with fragile hope.

You barely dare to breathe, but your eyes meet hers. Those gentle, unjudging eyes filled with an ancient calm, as if she carries the memory of every lost thing and every whispered promise. The doe doesn’t shy away. Instead, she takes a slow, careful step closer.

Sunghoon shifts beside you, his gaze caught by the unexpected visitor. The harsh edges of his expression soften for the briefest moment, touched by something almost like wonder. 

The doe lowers her head slightly, as if offering comfort without words, and you reach out to touch the soft fur along her neck. It’s like a balm to the raw ache inside you, like the world outside the festival’s laughter and cruelty can still hold a space for kindness.

You rest your forehead against the doe’s and close your eyes, letting the quiet of this stolen moment wrap around you like a shield. The willow leaves above sway gently, casting shadows that dance like silent witnesses to your small, fragile healing.

You pull back and, as if on instinct, your hand finds Sunghoon’s, his skin cool but steady beneath your touch. You take his hand gently in yours, moving it closer to the doe. His fingers curl slowly, hesitating at first, then brushing down the doe’s soft fur in long, patient strokes. The doe leans into the touch, her small head resting lightly against his palm, a quiet sigh escaping her lips like a breath of peace.

You begin to hum a lullaby, the one you always sing to her. The melody rises soft and low from your chest, barely more than a whisper, threading through the warm air like a fragile promise. Sunghoon listens, his shoulders relaxing beside you, his gaze dropping to where your hands rest together on the doe’s smooth fur.

Slowly, the doe settles onto your thigh, her body warm and steady beneath your touch. The rise and fall of her breathing is slow and rhythmic, a gentle heartbeat in the quiet night. Your fingers move on their own, brushing along her soft fur, tracing patterns that soothe both the animal and yourself.

Feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion, you lean your head against Sunghoon’s shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but in the dim moonlight beneath the willow’s swaying branches, it carries a weight you didn’t expect. His shoulder is solid, grounding, like a quiet anchor in the midst of your storm.

He doesn’t pull away. Instead, his breath settles against your hair, steady and warm, and for the first time in a long while, the tight knot of fear and shame in your chest loosens just enough to let a flicker of something like peace in. Neither of you speaks. The distant laughter and music of the festival feel far away, as if you’re suspended in a bubble of safety. And in that silence, in the gentle weight of the doe on your leg, the soft hum of your lullaby, the steady presence of Sunghoon’s shoulder beneath your head, you feel something fragile and new begin to grow.

The night wraps around you both like a velvet cloak, the willow’s branches swaying gently above as if whispering secrets only you and the darkness understand. The doe’s steady warmth anchors you to the earth, but your mind drifts, tangled between the ache of the past and the fragile hope of now.

Sunghoon shifts slightly beneath your head, the subtle movement a quiet reminder he’s still there, steady and unwavering. His fingers twitch at his side, hesitant, as if deciding whether to reach for yours again. When they do, slow and sure, his hand finds yours, fingers curling around yours like a silent vow.

The contact sends a small pulse through your skin, something fierce and tender all at once. You glance up, catching his gaze. Those dark eyes holding shadows and promises, danger and something softer, almost painfully close.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence with a voice low and rough, “No one’s going to touch you again. Not while I’m here.”

Your heart tightens, a bittersweet ache threading through the warmth pooling there. You want to ask him what that means, what kind of fate he’s ready to bring down on anyone who dares hurt you again. But the words stick, swallowed by the weight between you.

Instead, you squeeze his hand gently, leaning a little more into the solid strength beside you. The festival’s distant sounds fade even further, leaving only this fragile space where the past’s shadows don’t reach.

Under the willow’s gentle gaze, a delicate feeling takes root within you.

 A slow, inevitable bloom of love.

Days later, an invisible thread tugs you back to the willow, the quiet sanctuary where so many memories have taken root. The path feels different now. Each step heavier, weighted with an unspoken dread. The familiar rustle of leaves that once brought comfort now carries a strange stillness as if the very air is holding its breath.

As you approach, the sunlight filtering through the branches seems dimmer, the shadows deeper. A chill grazes your skin despite the warm afternoon. Your heart pounds with a mix of hope and fear, an uneasy knot tightening in your chest.

Then, beneath the sweeping canopy of the willow’s silvery leaves, you see her. The young doe lies motionless, her once pristine pale coat marred by dark stains spreading slowly into the earth below. A cruel wound in her ribs glistens with wetness, bleeding quietly but relentlessly. A gunshot. Her breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps.

You drop to your knees beside her without hesitation, the ground cold and unforgiving beneath your hands. Your fingers tremble as you gently lift her delicate head, feeling the faint warmth that stubbornly clings to life but slips like fragile sand through your grasp.

Her wide eyes meet yours, flickering with pain and confusion, shimmering pools of silent sorrow. Time seems to collapse, the world fading away until only this moment remains, the fragile beating of a life on the edge beneath the willow’s watchful gaze.

Your heart fractures, every beat echoing with a desperate ache, as you cradle her trembling form close. The weight of helplessness presses down, thick and suffocating, as you search for words to comfort what cannot be saved.

Around you, the leaves whisper mournfully, the breeze carrying the sorrow of loss through the branches. And as your tears fall quietly onto the soft earth, you know that here, beneath this tree, the innocence you once cherished is slipping away, fading into silence.

Your throat tightens, tears blurring your vision, but you force yourself to speak softly, to sing… for the doe, for yourself, for all the unbearable grief swelling inside. Your voice shakes, fragile yet unwavering, carrying an altered lullaby that feels like a goodbye woven with love and sorrow:

Little one, lie still now, The light has left your chest. The leaves still try to hold you, The wind still does its best. No need to keep from leaving, Your pain is nearly gone. They found you in the clearing, Just breathing. Just alone. Lie calm within my arms, Though red now stains your grace. Slain for simply being, I mourn your fading trace.

Her eyes flutter shut. Her breathing slows, growing faint, as if the song itself is coaxing her gently toward peace. Your tears fall freely now, tracing silent paths down your cheeks. The ache in your chest is raw and hollow, a cavern of grief where hope once lived. You want to scream at the cruel unfairness of it all, to shake the branches until they promise to bring her back. But the willow only sways, whispering a quiet elegy in the breeze.

A few minutes later, Sunghoon’s footsteps come rushing through the woods, sharp and frantic. He skids to his knees beside you, eyes wide with shock as he sees the young doe’s still form cradled in your arms. The warmth has slipped away completely now, her chest no longer rising, no faint breath escaping.

He stares down at her lifeless frame, the dark stains spreading over her coat, and then at you, whose tears glisten like shattered glass in the fading light. His hands tremble as they hover uncertainly, as if afraid to touch the silence that has settled between you.

“Why… why are you singing that?” His voice cracks, barely more than a broken whisper. He knows the lullaby, but these lyrics aren’t the same. They are filled with grief, a farewell that cuts sharper than any blade.

“She’s gone, Sunghoon.”

His breath hitches, disbelief crashing over him like a wave. He closes his eyes, swallowing hard, trying to hold onto hope that’s already slipped through his fingers. But the truth is undeniable. The stillness is absolute. The young doe has slipped beyond reach, her fragile life extinguished.

He lowers his head, pressing a trembling hand against the earth, the weight of loss folding around him like a shadow. You both sit there, bound by sorrow, the lullaby still lingering in the air. The silence that follows is louder than any scream, an aching void where innocence once lived.

The earth is soft and cool beneath your fingers as you dig a small grave underneath the willow tree. Each handful of soil feels heavier than the last, laden not just with dirt but with the weight of goodbye. The young doe’s fragile body is laid to rest gently, wrapped in the whisper of fallen leaves, as if the tree itself is cradling her one last time.

Sunghoon is beside you, his breaths slow and steady but uneven, like he is fighting to keep himself together in the face of something that has shattered the world into shards. His hand finds yours, hesitating for a moment before curling around your trembling fingers, anchoring you to this moment, to each other.

“She lives in the spaces between our heartbeats,” he says softly, eyes fixed on the swaying branches above. “In the quiet strength we find when everything feels broken. As long as we remember, she breathes within us.”

You nod, tears spilling freely down your cheeks, the sorrow folding into your chest like a slow-burning ache. It’s so much more than grief. It’s the breaking of something inside, the unbearable weight of helplessness. And yet, beneath it all, there’s a fragile spark flickering, a thread weaving between you and Sunghoon, binding you together.

His eyes search yours, not with pity, but with something fierce and quiet, as if in that gaze he is saying: I am here.

And at that moment, the world narrows down until it’s just the two of you beneath the willow’s silver leaves, the air thick with the scent of earth and sorrow, and the fragile pulse of life still beating between your hearts. Sunghoon leans in slowly, his breath warm against your skin, and when his lips meet yours, it is not a kiss born of desperation or sorrow, but a quiet promise to the young doe.

I will keep her safe for you, sweet little doe. Though you are gone from this world, your spirit will live on in every breath we take, in every moment we share. You shall not be forgotten.

The kiss lingers, soft and deliberate, a balm to the fractures that ache beneath your skin. When you pull apart, your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling in the fading light. The willow sways above you, its leaves singing the young doe's lullaby. And maybe, just maybe, beneath the soil where the doe lies, she listens and sings back. 

But the lullaby she sings is different. It is no longer hers alone.

It is the lullaby of two souls — of yours, of Sunghoons.

Been working on this one for two weeks...I love it though, so it's okay. There isn't much to say about this one, just that I lowkey cried. Hope the lullaby doesn't come off as cringe, I have never tried to write a song before, so...lol. Let me know your thoughts!

[cyjhhyj]

Plagiarism should always be called out and discouraged. It's not a harmless shortcut; it's a theft of someone's creative effort. Acknowledging inspiration is important but claiming another's work as your own is just irritating and aggravating.

IMPORTANT - PLAGERISM

It’s come to my attention that a user on this platform copied my original story “Nerd, Interrupted” — not just vaguely, but blatantly. The themes, character dynamics, the pacing and major plot elements were all taken from my work, repackaged under a different title, and posted as if they were original. I was anonymously informed, looked into it myself, and the similarities were undeniable. When I confronted them, they denied everything — claimed they didn’t know me, had never read my work, and had never followed me. Yet, soon after, they deleted the story entirely… and then their entire account. If you really didn’t copy anything, why go to those lengths?

What’s worse — this same person @snowho0n was commenting on my anon post pretending to support me throughout the ordeal, agreeing I had been wronged, only for me to later realize it was them the entire time. A friend of mine recognized the aesthetic, formatting, and behavior — it was unmistakable. And now, from the same account, they’ve started posting again, this time putting “inspired by” in the description and tagging me along with other writers. Let me be very clear: writing “inspired by” after the fact does not make anything better. You didn’t own up to what you did. You didn’t apologize. You didn’t take accountability. Instead, you erased the evidence, played both sides, and are now trying to rewrite the narrative while avoiding the actual consequences. This isn’t inspiration — it’s theft. And no amount of sugar-coating or emotional guilt-tripping will change that. If you’re bold enough to steal, deny, lie, fake support, and then try to quietly rebuild — you should be called out publicly.

below are the screenshots (proof) my friend and i collected

the old post -

the new post-

the “support”

their message-

crazy world we live in

[cyjhhyj]

APPLE CIDER

You and Heeseung were inseparable once—laughing over takeout, sneaking into rooftops, dreaming about futures too big to say out loud. But that was before everything changed. Before he started hanging out with new people, stopped talking to you. He became colder, more distant. Now, forced back into each other’s lives, old feelings resurface through lingering stares, bitter arguments, and late-night tension.

paring: ex childhood bsf!heeseung x fem!reader (college au | angst + smut | ex-friends to lovers..?)

warnings: emotional tension, unresolved past friendship, jealousy, college setting, alcohol use, slow-burn mutual pining, arguments, emotional vulnerability, sexual tension → eventual smut, mentioned Enhypen members, and appearances by Sungchan, Sohee (riize), Karina (aespa), Yunjin (le sserafim) and Jiwoong (zerobaseone)

MDNI. 18+ only — p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), explicit sexual content, emotionally heavy scenes, little dirty talk, bedroom sex, overstimulation, Heeseung is slightly tipsy when they have sex but gives clear consent, and the complicated intimacy of someone you used to know too well.

wc: 15k

AN: I edited in a rush so v sorry if any mistakes!!! One of my first big project,, hope you like it <3 (reblogs, fb, likes, and comments are appreciated!!!)

You used to know every corner of Heeseung’s world.

The boy who walked you home with headphones shared between you, who’d hum songs with his eyes closed and tell you he felt like he was made to do something bigger. The boy who never let you cry alone, who let you sleep on his shoulder during late-night study sessions and called you his “other half” like it meant something. You and Heeseung used to be inseparable , the kind of friends who shared secrets, inside jokes, and dreams too big for small dorm rooms. He was the constant you counted on, the person who made everything feel lighter even when your schedule was suffocating.

Now he barely even looks at you. You pretend not to care. You never imagined college would feel this empty. Not like this. But now? You didn’t know who he was anymore. It started small , missed texts, canceled plans, excuses that made no sense. Then the silence. You found out through others: Heeseung had joined a those popular kids, started throwing parties, gained a new crowd. The boy you once knew was buried beneath layers of popular kids, expensive cologne, and that reckless behavior.

Your friends—Yunjin, Sungchan, Sohee, and Karina,noticed your quiet frustration.

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” Yunjin asked one afternoon as you sat in the campus cafe, textbooks spread out but untouched. You looked up, biting your lip. “What’s the point?” Sungchan shrugged. “Maybe he misses you, too.” “Or maybe he’s too proud to say it,” Sohee added softly. You wanted to believe them. You wanted to reach out, to tear down the walls between you two. But the fear of rejection and the sting of being forgotten stopped your fingers every time they hovered over your phone.

—————

One evening, you caught a glimpse of him across campus. He was laughing with Jake, Sunghoon, and Jay,the usual crew now,backpacks slung carelessly, his denim jacket hanging off one shoulder. His eyes met yours for a split second. Something flickered there. Regret? Surprise? Or just recognition of a ghost from his past? You turned away quickly, your heart pounding.

The days after were filled with memories you hadn’t touched in months , that time he stayed up with you when you were sick, the late-night walks under flickering street lamps, the way he always knew exactly when you needed a friend. But there was also the sharp pain of abandonment.

At night, you found yourself scrolling through old messages, rereading the goodbyes that never came.

“Maybe,” you whispered into the darkness, “this is the kind of loneliness you only feel when you lose someone who once held your entire world.”

And still, the slow ache of wanting him back lingered beneath every breath. You finally fall asleep after overthinking about the whole situation.

—————

The first time you saw Heeseung after everything was in the library. You were buried in notes for your midterms, the quiet hum of students studying a comfort you hadn’t known you needed. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement.

Heeseung.

Same hoodie, baseball cap pulled low. He looked around, then sat down at the table across from you , but didn’t say a word. You swallowed hard, heart hammering. Should you say something? Apologize? Ask why? But your throat was dry and the words wouldn’t come.

He kept his gaze fixed on his laptop, pretending you weren’t there. You kept your eyes on your notes, the silence between you thick and loud.

You wanted to scream at him, “Why are you acting like I’m a stranger?”

But you said nothing.

—————

Weeks passed. Each time you crossed paths, it was worse.

In the crowded campus hallways, your eyes locked for a second, then he’d look away. At group lunches with your friends, he would barely nod in greeting, then turn his attention elsewhere. The cold shoulder was unmistakable.

Yunjin saw you retreating into yourself, one day pulling you aside.

“Heeseung’s probably dealing with stuff. Maybe it’s easier for him this way.”

“Or maybe he’s just pretending I don’t exist,” you whispered.

Sohee tried to cheer you up, but you couldn’t shake the ache. Every brush of his gaze felt like a fresh wound.

—————

It was evening, just as the sun dipped below the horizon and the campus lights flickered on, you were walking briskly near the student center, your backpack heavy with textbooks and your mind tangled in unfinished assignments. The cold air bit at your cheeks, making you pull your jacket tighter around yourself as you hurried to get home.

Suddenly, you collided with someone.

“Sorry,” you muttered quickly, your eyes instinctively dropping to the ground.

The person you bumped into stiffened immediately. You barely had a moment to register the tense energy radiating from him before a voice, low and clipped, sliced through the quiet air:

“Watch where you’re going.”

You flinched, not from fear exactly, but from the sharpness of his tone. It wasn’t the Heeseung you once knew,the warm, easy smile, the teasing lilt in his voice. This was something colder. Harder. His jaw was tight, his entire body rigid, like he was holding back a storm just beneath the surface.

Your cheeks flushed with heat,not just from the cold, but from the unexpected confrontation. You swallowed, trying to steady your breath, but your heart was already pounding, loud enough to drown out the faint murmur of passing students.

You didn’t dare meet his eyes. Instead, you focused on the rough weave of your jacket, your fingers twisting the strap of your bag nervously.

Then, just as suddenly as the harshness came, his expression shifted,softened,for a flicker of a moment.

You caught it: a flash of something raw and unguarded. Regret? Longing? Pain? It was there, lurking behind his eyes before he blinked and hardened his gaze once more.

He took a step back, like pulling away from a flame too close to touch.

Without another word, he turned and walked away. The sound of his footsteps echoed against the pavement, leaving a hollow ache in the space where he had been.

You remained rooted, caught in the swirl of conflicting emotions,confusion, sadness, and a strange pull you couldn’t explain.

For a heartbeat, you thought about calling after him, reaching out and breaking the wall between you.

But something stopped you,maybe pride, maybe fear, maybe the weight of all the unsaid words between you.

Instead, you exhaled slowly, your breath visible in the cold air, and forced yourself to keep moving forward, even as your heart dragged behind you.

—————

You hadn’t even meant to go to the campus café that afternoon,just wanted to grab a tea and find a quiet corner to finish your essay. You weren’t expecting anyone to be there. Especially not him.

But the moment you pushed open the door, the warmth of the café hit you… and so did the sight of Lee Heeseung.

He was there,sitting at the far window, one leg crossed over the other, headphones around his neck, lazily flipping through a notebook. His dark hoodie hung loose over his frame, a water bottle tucked into the crook of his elbow. He looked tired. Sharp. Untouchable.

And completely unaware of your presence. At least at first.

You froze halfway through the entrance, your fingers tightening around your phone. You thought about turning around, pretending you never walked in. But your name was already being called for pickup, and your pride had always been a little too loud.

So, you stayed.

You moved toward the counter, ignoring the way your stomach twisted in on itself. You could feel the moment he noticed you,the air shifted, like a static charge in the room. You didn’t look at him, but you felt his stare.

Your tea was too hot to sip, but you cradled the cup anyway and took the table near the opposite wall. Far enough to pretend it didn’t matter. Close enough that you could still hear when someone else sat down across from him.

Jake.

Their laughter felt too casual, too loud in the quiet space. Every now and then, you’d catch Heeseung glancing your way,quick, almost guilty flicks of his eyes before turning back to whatever Jake was saying.

You hated how aware you were of him. Of how close he was. Of how he hadn’t said a word.

You opened your laptop, pretending to type, but your mind was miles away.

He’s right there.

And still, he says nothing.

A full twenty minutes passed like that,silent, aching, your fingers idle on the keyboard as your tea slowly lost its warmth.

Then, Jake got up.

Heeseung didn’t.

He stayed seated, gaze fixed out the window now. His fingers drummed lightly on the table. His jaw was clenched, but his posture was relaxed,almost too relaxed, like he was forcing himself not to care.

And then, when you thought the silence might finally break, he stood.

He walked past you.

And he didn’t say anything.

But as he passed, his hand brushed the edge of your table,barely, just enough to knock your pen to the ground.

You reached down to grab it, and when you sat up again, he was gone.

You stared at the empty doorway, your pulse skittering.

Was it an accident?

Or was it the closest he could get to touching you?

—————

You didn’t even hear your name at first.

You were half-listening as Professor Yoon announced project partners at the front of the lecture hall, your head resting on one hand and your other hand idly doodling in the margins of your notes. You weren’t too worried,you usually ended up with Sohee or Sungchan in this class.

You heard your name at the exact same time as his.

You heard your name at the exact same time as his.

“Y/N… and Lee Heeseung.”

You didn’t even react at first. You just blinked, your lips slightly parted in disbelief.

You’d kept your head down all semester. You sat in the third row. You turned in your assignments on time. You weren’t loud, weren’t late. You didn’t ask for much.

So being paired with the one person you were actively trying to emotionally bury?

Cruel.

Across the room, Heeseung didn’t look up either. He just exhaled once, slowly, and leaned back in his chair like he’d been hit with the same cosmic joke.

Professor Shin finished reading off the rest of the partners, completely unaware of the emotional landmine she’d just created.

When class ended, Heeseung didn’t wait. He didn’t walk up to you, didn’t linger. He just brushed past you at the door without a word.

You didn’t know what hurt more,the silence or how normal it looked.

—————

You ignored him for two days.

No text back. No email. Nothing.

You worked around it. You opened the Google Doc and did the intro slides yourself. You picked a topic, formatted it, and outlined talking points. You left it open on purpose, hoping maybe he wouldn’t contribute and the professor would switch you.

But then, at :13 a.m. one night, your phone buzzed.

Lee Heeseung: We should talk about the project.

I’m free tomorrow. Don’t make me chase you.

You stared at the message for a full minute before locking your phone and tossing it across the bed.

You didn’t reply.

—————

The next day, he showed up where he knew he’d find you.

The study hall on the third floor of the humanities building. You always sat at the second table near the window, headphones in but music barely playing.

He didn’t ask permission. Just pulled out the chair across from you and sat down like you hadn’t spent the last several months actively avoiding each other.

You didn’t look up. Didn’t greet him.

He clicked his pen once. “You’re really gonna ghost me on the project?”

You glanced at him. “Didn’t know you cared.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I care about my grade.”

Of course he did.

You went back to typing, forcing your voice to stay level. “Topic’s already picked. Slides are halfway done. You can do the citations.”

He didn’t answer right away.

When you finally looked up again, he was watching you,like he was waiting for something more than a project breakdown.

He looked… tense. Jaw set. Hands folded, but twitching slightly, like he wanted to say something and couldn’t bring himself to do it.

You said nothing. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

He clicked his tongue once. “Fine. Just send me the file.”

“You already have access.”

And just like that, he stood up and left.

Not a thank you. Not even a bye.

You stared at the empty seat across from you for way too long after he was gone.

—————

Three days later, the Google Doc was filled with clean citations, some edits, and… one slide you didn’t write.

You opened it out of curiosity.

It was a mid-section transition slide. Nothing special.

But at the bottom, in a barely-visible font size 8, he’d written:

‘Didn’t know you hated me this much.’

You hovered your cursor over it.

But you did nothing.

You were allowed to hate him. Especially after everything he did.

—————

By week four, the deadline was approaching.

Your professor had sent out a reminder email:

All project presentations must be given in person, together.

No escape. No hiding behind shared Google Docs or sterile email threads.

You had to meet.

You stared at the email for a full ten minutes before opening your texts.

You: Library. Study Room 6. Tomorrow at 6.

Be on time.

Heeseung replied five minutes later.

Heeseung: Alright.

You read it once, then again. No sarcasm. No half-jokes. Just… compliance.

It almost pissed you off more.

—————

The next day, 6:05 p.m.

You were already there when he walked in , seated stiffly at the corner table, laptop open but untouched, your notebook blank save for a half-scribbled title. You weren’t working. You were just waiting. Bracing.

Heeseung entered like he always did. Effortless. Casual. Pulling the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows, like this was just any other study session. Like he wasn’t three months late to this conversation.

He didn’t say anything.

No greeting. No glance.

Just dropped his iced coffee onto the table with a dull thud, sank into the seat across from you, and opened his laptop like you were strangers forced into proximity.

Fine.

You didn’t look at him. You didn’t have to. The tension practically breathed on its own between you.

“We should finalize the intro,” you said, voice flat, eyes glued to your screen. “The visuals still need formatting. You can talk during slides four and six. I’ll do the conclusion.”

“Alright,” he said. Quiet. Neutral.

And that was it.

No small talk. No acknowledgment. No shared history.

Just silence.

Not the kind that settles gently. Not the type that means comfort.

This was loaded. Stiff. Thick with everything left unsaid.

The tapping of your keys echoed too loudly. His straw squeaked against the plastic lid every time he took a sip. The ice cracked. You clicked your pen twice,then again,just to keep your fingers moving because your hands had started to shake.

Twenty minutes passed like that.

Then his voice broke through, unprompted.

“You still hate me, huh.”

Your fingers stilled over your keyboard. The cursor blinked at you, waiting. You didn’t respond right away. You didn’t even breathe.

He wasn’t looking at you. Just staring at slide six like it said something profound. Like bullet points could distract him from what he really meant.

You finally blinked, slow and deliberate. “I don’t hate you.”

He turned toward you. Eyes searching. “You act like you do.”

You met his gaze now,unflinching, flat. “You act like I don’t exist,” you said, voice sharp, disbelief creeping in. “But I’m the one who hates you?”

Your throat tightened.

“And even if I did,” you added, “I’d have every right.”

His jaw tensed, but he said nothing.

“No explanation. No closure,” you continued, your tone rising. “You didn’t even have the decency to pretend we were ever close. You just left. Like I was disposable.”

Heeseung flinched,just slightly,but enough. The guilt cracked through for a second.

You slammed your laptop shut and shoved it into your tote. You were done.

At least, you tried to be,until his voice stopped you.

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”

You turned, eyes blazing, stunned by the audacity.

“That’s such a cop-out,” you snapped. Your voice wasn’t just controlled rage anymore. It was breaking. “You didn’t think, period. You didn’t care. You just disappeared the moment things got good for you,Popularity, new friends, new image, a whole personality swap.”

He stood up now too, his hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, avoiding your stare like it burned. And maybe it did.

He didn’t speak.

You took a step closer, biting the inside of your cheek to keep it together.

“Was I just boring to you?” you demanded. “Compared to parties and getting laid and cheap fucking beer?”

That finally made him look at you. And this time, he didn’t hide the way his face fell.

His eyes,tired in a way that went deeper than sleep,locked onto yours.

“You weren’t boring,” he said softly, like the words were scraped from somewhere buried. “You were the only thing that felt real.”

And it hit you.

Because it was honest. Because it sounded like the truth.

But also,because it was too late.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, gaze dropping to the floor as you whispered, “Then why’d you leave?”

Silence.

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t apologize.

He just stood there,shoulders stiff, lips parted like he might say something.

But he didn’t.

And maybe that was worse than hearing a lie.

The room was quiet again, but not empty.

It was filled with everything that used to be.

And neither of you knew what to do with it.

—————

One Week Later

You didn’t go to class.

Not on Monday. Not on Wednesday. Not even the Thursday lecture you usually never miss.

Your professor had emailed once , a generic check-in , but you ignored it.

You weren’t sick. You weren’t busy.

You were just… stuck.

It had been a week since the project meeting. Since that conversation you hadn’t meant to have. Since Heeseung looked at you like he still felt something, and then left you with nothing.

You told yourself to forget it.

But then came the what-ifs.

What if he meant it?

What if he didn’t?

What if you said too much?

What if you didn’t say enough?

You hadn’t opened your laptop in days. Your notebook was still in your bag. The slides were done , the presentation had already passed. But that wasn’t what haunted you.

It was his voice.

“You were the only thing that felt real.”

It played in your head like a broken record, looping at the worst times. In the shower. While brushing your teeth. When you tried to sleep but couldn’t.

The days started blending. You stopped answering texts. Even Sohee’s relentless “u alive?” messages went ignored.

Until Friday.

There was a loud knock at your dorm door. Then another. Then,

“Y/N. Open the damn door,” Yunjin’s voice came through , sharp, worried. “We know you’re in there.”

You stayed still, curled up under your blanket, hoping they’d leave.

But they didn’t.

Karina’s voice chimed in next. “You haven’t shown up to class all week. You didn’t even reply when Sungchan offered to bring you notes.”

“Are you hurt?” Sohee added. “If you’re dead in there, I’m gonna cry and haunt you.”

Finally, you heard a quiet thud, like someone had sat down against the door.

It was Sungchan. You recognized the sigh.

“We’re not leaving until you talk to us,” he said softly.

You stared at the ceiling. Then at the blank wall. Then, finally, you got up , limbs heavy, stomach hollow , and opened the door.

They all looked up at you like you’d just walked out of a wreckage.

Yunjin’s expression fell first. “You look like shit.”

“Love you too,” you muttered, voice hoarse.

Karina stepped in, pushing past you gently. “Come on. Couch. Now.”

Sohee immediately opened the window blinds to let some light in. Sungchan brought in a tote bag full of snacks and something that smelled like takeout.

You sat on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, trying not to cry for no reason.

They didn’t say anything for a minute. Just… existed there with you.

And then:

“Is this about Heeseung?” Yunjin asked bluntly.

You froze.

Sohee sucked in a breath like he was expecting you to lie.

But you didn’t.

“I thought I was over it,” you whispered.

Karina sank to the floor in front of you. “What happened?”

You told them everything. Quietly. Hesitantly. Word by word, unraveling. The cold silences. The passive-aggressive project work. The way he looked at you that night , like something was still there, buried beneath the frat boy persona and the radio silence.

You told them about the line that broke you.

“You were the only thing that felt real.”

They didn’t interrupt.

Even Sungchan, who usually had something smart to say, just sat there with his hands folded, listening.

“I thought I wanted closure,” you admitted. “But hearing that? It just made it worse. Because now I don’t know what the fuck he wants from me.”

“You shouldn’t have to figure that out alone,” Karina said softly.

Yunjin scoffed. “You shouldn’t have to figure it out at all. He should’ve figured it out before disappearing like an asshole.”

“Did he try to talk to you again?” Sohee asked.

You shook your head.

Then Sungchan finally spoke. “You don’t have to decide anything now. You don’t owe him another minute of your time if you don’t want to.”

“But,” Yunjin added, looking at you closely, “if you do want to… that doesn’t make you weak either.”

Sohee leaned back against your desk chair, arms crossed loosely, expression calm but firm. “Feel however you need to feel. Be pissed, be confused, be fucking numb. But don’t carry it by yourself.”

Karina reached for your hand, squeezing gently. “We’ve got you.”

And just like that, the weight cracked.

Your throat tightened. Your chest clenched like it finally had space to feel all the things you’d been bottling for weeks.

“I’m just so tired,” you whispered, barely holding it together.

“I know,” Sohee murmured. “But you’re not alone.”

They stayed with you the whole night.

They didn’t push. They didn’t tell you to fix anything. They just made space for you to fall apart a little , and reminded you that even when someone walked away without warning, there were still people who stayed.

—————

“Did she present?”

Heeseung’s voice came out more abrupt than he meant.

Jake blinked at him over his laptop. “Huh?”

“For the psych elective. Group presentations were this week, right? Did Y/N go up?”

Jake frowned slightly, setting down his Red Bull. “I think her group presented Tuesday, yeah. Why?”

“I didn’t see her there.”

“Maybe she went on a different day?” Jay offered, but even he sounded unsure. “I haven’t seen her around either.”

Heeseung didn’t answer.

Because he knew.

She wasn’t there Tuesday.

He was.

He didn’t mean to be , he had no reason to walk into that class after their project was done , but something in him had pulled him there anyway. And when he didn’t see her? He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself she was probably just sick. Or skipped. Or busy. But now, four days later, knowing she still hadn’t shown up…

His stomach turned.

Why did he feel like this even when he thought his life was better without you?

—————

Later that night in Jiwoong’s party was loud since the boys were over.

Louder than usual.

Someone turned up the speakers too high, and there were bodies pressed against each other in every room, red solo cups dotting every surface.

Heeseung was supposed to be drinking.

Supposed to be having fun.

But instead, he was leaning against the hallway wall upstairs, his phone in hand , screen blank.

No texts. No notifications. Nothing from her.

You still hate me, huh?

You were the only thing that felt real.

Her words from that night replayed again and again.

And the way she looked at him , like she didn’t even recognize the person he’d become.

He ran a hand through his hair.

“Bro.”

Sunghoon suddenly appeared next to him, balancing a beer in one hand. “You’ve been standing in the same place for like ten minutes. You good?”

Heeseung glanced at him. “Yeah.”

Sunghoon raised a brow. “You thinking about Y/N?”

Heeseung said nothing.

Which was an answer.

“Dude…” Sunghoon sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “You really messed that one up.”

Heeseung didn’t reply.

Because yeah , he did.

And it was starting to hit him now.

Not just the guilt, but the absence.

The way her silence burned louder than anything she ever said to him.

He couldn’t explain it , why he needed to know if she was okay. Why it bothered him more than anything else lately.

But it did.

He pocketed his phone and pushed off the wall. “I’ll be back.”

Sunghoon blinked. “Where are you,”

“Just,I’ll be back,” he muttered, already heading for the door.

You couldn’t sleep again.

Even with the dorm lights off, the room was too loud with thoughts.

Your pillow was warm, your fingers curled stiffly under the blanket. All you could do was stare at the ceiling and replay everything.

You were supposed to feel lighter after talking to your friends.

But closure wasn’t linear.

And your mind was still stuck on that damn night.

How Heeseung didn’t even apologize. How he looked at you like he wanted to say something and then didn’t.

How he let you walk away , again.

You sighed.

Then suddenly, there was a knock.

Soft.

Careful.

You sat up, confused.

Karina never knocked. Sohee always texted. Yunjin banged like a cop. Sungchan wouldn’t come this late.

You padded to the door, cautious.

And when you opened it ,

Heeseung was standing there.

Hair a little messy. Hoodie sleeves pushed up like always. Eyes unreadable.

You froze.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you like you weren’t supposed to open the door.

Like maybe he came here without really planning to knock.

You swallowed. “What are you,”

“I heard you haven’t been to class,” he said.

Voice low. Tired.

You stared at him.

“So?” you replied, cold. “You checking attendance now?”

He didn’t flinch.

“I just…”

He looked down, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

“I don’t know. I thought you were,”

“What? Falling apart without you?” you snapped. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He looked up, sharp. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?” you asked, stepping out into the hallway now, closing the door behind you. “You show up here like you get to care all of a sudden?”

“I do care.”

“You didn’t. Not when you dropped me. Not when you started acting like a stranger in every room we used to exist in.”

Heeseung looked like he’d been hit.

And for the first time… he didn’t defend himself.

“I didn’t know how to come back from it,” he admitted. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”

“Well, you were right.”

You turned to go back inside, hand on the doorknob.

But he spoke again.

“Then why haven’t you blocked me?”

You paused.

He stepped closer, voice quieter. “If I mean nothing now… why do you still let me stay on your screen?”

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

And the worst part?

He knew it too.

You stared at him for a long second, the weight of his words choking the space between you.

Then without saying anything, you turned the knob and walked back into your room , leaving the door open behind you.

Heeseung hesitated.

Then stepped in.

The air felt tight immediately. Too many memories crammed into a room that used to be just yours , that used to be off-limits to him. You sat on the edge of your bed, arms crossed, while he hovered awkwardly near the desk chair before finally sitting in it.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” he said.

“Too bad. You earned one,” you replied, bitterly.

He winced , visibly.

“Y/N…”

“No,” you snapped. “You don’t get to say my name like that anymore. Like it still means something to you.”

“It does.”

“Then why did you treat me like nothing?”

The silence was immediate. Thick. Full of all the things he should have said months ago.

“You changed,” you said, voice shaking. “You got into that frat, started partying, drinking, fucking whoever , and suddenly I was just some weird reminder of your pre-popular life. Of the version of you that actually had feelings.”

His jaw tensed. “That’s not,”

“You ignored me, Heeseung. You acted like I was invisible. I sat next to you in class and you didn’t even blink. Like we weren’t each other’s favorite person for two years.”

You stood now, pacing, words pouring out.

“You made me feel crazy for even wondering what I did wrong. Like I just imagined everything we were.”

He stood too. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why?” you shouted.

He finally cracked.

“Because I didn’t know how to be around you without feeling like shit!”

You froze.

He ran a hand down his face, frustrated with himself. “Because I was messing everything up and I knew it. And being around you reminded me of everything I was throwing away. Everything real.”

You looked at him, breath catching.

“I wanted to fit in,” he continued, voice lower now. “I wanted to feel… wanted. And the boys gave me that. The attention, the girls, the parties , it was easy.”

He laughed, but it was hollow. “You weren’t easy. You saw through all of it. You saw me. And that scared the hell out of me.”

You swallowed hard. “So you punished me for it?”

He looked down. “No. I punished myself. But yeah… you got caught in it.”

You stared at him.

This version of Heeseung , stripped down, not the frat boy, not the cocky party king , looked tired. Raw. Like everything he’d been burying was finally surfacing whether he wanted it to or not.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I needed you,” you said quietly. “And you disappeared.”

“I know.”

“That project was the first time I’d heard your voice in three months. And you were still cold.”

“I didn’t know how to stop being that version of me.”

“Then why are you here now?” you asked.

He finally looked up.

“Because I kept waiting for this feeling to go away,” he said. “The guilt. The regret. You. I thought if I ignored it long enough, it’d die out. But it didn’t. It got louder. Every time I walked into a room and didn’t see you. Every time I laughed at a party and thought about how you would’ve rolled your eyes at it. Every time I saw your name in the team group chat and wanted to text you but didn’t have the right to anymore.”

You blinked. And your eyes stung.

He stepped closer.

“But I’m not here to ask for anything,” he added quickly. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. For being a coward. For hurting you. For pretending you didn’t matter when you were the only person who ever did.”

The room went still.

Your heart was thudding so loud it felt like it echoed.

You didn’t know if you were ready to believe him. Or forgive him. Or even feel for him again.

But you couldn’t deny this truth:

He was finally standing in front of you.

Not perfect. Not fixed. But real.

You should’ve kicked him out.

Told him to go. To leave you alone. To take his late apology and shove it somewhere far away from the wounds he reopened just by walking through your door.

But instead, you stood there. Silent. Arms wrapped around yourself like they were the only thing holding you together.

And he just watched you.

You hated how his eyes still looked at you like that. Like he remembered every version of you. The soft one. The annoyed one. The one who used to wait up for his texts. The one who used to matter.

“I was angry,” you said suddenly, voice cracking. “I was so fucking angry, Heeseung. Not just at you , at myself. For still hoping. For checking your socials. For reading every caption like it was some hidden message just for me. I hated how even when you were out getting drunk or wrapped around someone else, I still wanted you to text me. To just… come back.”

Heeseung’s face crumpled. A crack in his facade. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. His throat worked around silence like it physically hurt to hold the words back.

Your voice was shaking now, but you didn’t stop.

“I used to stay up at night wondering what I did wrong. If I was too clingy. Too quiet. Too boring. I reread our texts so many times I started memorizing the punctuation. I thought if I could just figure out when you stopped caring, I could fix it. I could fix me.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you brushed it away fast.

But he saw it.

And it shattered him.

“I never stopped caring,” he said hoarsely. “I just didn’t know how to deal with what I felt for you. Everything else was easy to fake. With you… it wasn’t. You made it real.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

Another tear. Then another. This time you didn’t bother wiping them away. You were exhausted. Tired of being the one who held everything in. Tired of pretending it didn’t destroy you.

“You ruined everything,” you said.

“I know.”

“I don’t even know who I am without resenting you.”

“I know.”

Your breathing was uneven now, like your lungs were collapsing under the weight of it all.

And Heeseung?

He looked like he was barely standing.

He took a step closer, eyes glassy. “I missed you every day.”

“Then why didn’t you act like it?”

“Because I didn’t think I deserved you anymore.”

The silence that followed that was the loudest of all.

You looked at him , really looked at him. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up, the way he always did when he was nervous. His hair was a mess, like he’d been running his hands through it all night. His jaw was clenched tight, but his eyes…

His eyes were pleading.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he said quietly. “But I want to try. Even if it takes months. Even if you never forgive me. I just want you to know,”

You interrupted him.

“Stop.”

He did.

Your voice was soft now, but strained. “You can’t say that to me and expect it to fix anything. I’m still broken from it. I’m still picking pieces of myself out of the mess you left behind.”

Heeseung’s breath hitched. He blinked fast , and this time, it was his eyes that shimmered.

And for the first time, you saw him cry.

Not the dramatic kind. Not loud. Just quiet, ashamed, wrecked.

He sank back down into the desk chair, covering his mouth with his hand like it could hold him together.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood there , torn between hatred and heartbreak.

You hated him. You missed him. You wanted him to leave. You wanted him to stay.

It wasn’t fair.

He wiped his face, breathing heavy now. “I know I never had the right to ask for anything from you. Not then, not now. But I… I think I was in love with you. And I still am.”

That broke you.

Because somewhere under all the hurt…

You were too.

But it wasn’t that simple.

Not anymore.

You turned away, breathing hard, heart collapsing in on itself. “You should go.”

You didn’t look at him when he got up.

You didn’t look when he paused by the door.

You didn’t look when the silence stretched like a wire about to snap.

But you did hear him whisper one last thing before he left.

“I’ll wait.”

And then the door shut behind him.

You collapsed onto your bed and cried harder than you had in months.

Because even now, with all the pain…

A part of you still wanted to believe him.

—————

Two nights after the argument with Heeseung

You were lying on your side, staring at the uneven shadows cast by your desk lamp, when the knock came.

Three short raps.

You didn’t even say anything , just got up and opened the door. Sungchan stepped in with a bag of snacks and two cans of iced coffee.

He took one look at your face and sighed. “Yeah. You’re not okay.”

You gave him a flat look. “Hi to you too.”

“Sorry,” he said gently, brushing past you. “Hi. I missed you. You look like shit.”

You huffed a weak laugh as you closed the door. “Thanks.”

Sungchan sat on your bed, setting the snacks down and cracking one of the iced coffees open. He held it out to you.

“Drink. Then talk.”

You took it wordlessly and sat beside him, both of you leaning back against the headboard. The cold can was comforting against your palms. The silence sat there for a while , not heavy, not tense. Just quiet.

“I saw him again,” you said finally.

Sungchan didn’t ask who.

He already knew.

You stared at your lap. “He came over. And… things came out.”

“What kind of things?”

“The kind you can’t take back.”

Sungchan didn’t speak for a second, just let you process. Then he said, “Do you still care about him?”

You swallowed. “I wish I didn’t.”

He nodded, eyes on the ceiling. “You know, when you first told me about him last semester… I thought you were overreacting. I thought,he’s a popular boy now, who doesn’t cares, move on. But seeing how much he still affects you… I get it now.”

You looked at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t think he’s just some guy from your past. And maybe he never was.”

You blinked hard. “That doesn’t mean I want him back.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not still hurt. Or that you don’t miss what you had.”

You stayed quiet.

“I know what it feels like,” he added, voice softer now. “To care about someone who doesn’t show up for you the way they should. You start to think maybe you’re the problem. Maybe you were too boring or too sensitive or not cool enough to keep up. And that shit sticks.”

Your chest tightened. “Why do you get it so well?”

He looked at you then , really looked at you. “Because I’ve been watching you go through it. And I hate that he gets to take up this much space in your heart when he didn’t even fight to stay.”

You turned your face away.

“I just wanted him to try,” you whispered. “Even once. To say something when he started slipping away. To say he doesn’t just miss me, that he needs me. That I mattered.”

Sungchan’s voice dropped, almost like he was scared to say it. “Would you have taken him back?”

You paused. “Back from where? We were never even anything. Just… friends who felt like something more.”

“Sometimes those are the hardest to lose.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak.

He didn’t push. Just leaned in and pressed his shoulder against yours, grounding you.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “If you want to talk, cry, scream, or just lie here all night. I’m here.”

You blinked away tears. “Thanks, Chan.”

He smiled a little. “Of course.”

Sungchan stayed with you the whole night, even slept on the floor.

—————

The next day you decide to go to your classes.

You weren’t planning to run into Jay.

He’d always been the most level-headed of Heeseung’s friends, even back when you used to hang around with them, back when things were easy. He wasn’t the type to get involved in drama, but when he spotted you walking out of the student center, earbuds in and head down, he didn’t let you pass.

“Hey.”

You paused, halfway down the stairs. He looked like he was debating whether to even say anything.

“Have you talked to him?” he asked.

You blinked. “Talked to who?”

Jay gave you a look. “Don’t make me say it.”

You adjusted the strap on your bag, keeping your voice cool. “Why would I?”

He studied you. “Because he’s not doing great. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but… I thought you should know.”

You didn’t say anything.

Jay sighed. “Look, I’m not taking sides. But whatever happened between you two,it’s killing him.”

You laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “He left me first. I’m just returning the favor.”

Jay nodded slowly. “Fair. But… you’re not okay either.”

You didn’t respond, because you couldn’t lie.

Because it was true.

That evening you sat at your desk, staring at your laptop, trying to edit the last few slides of your assignment. But the words wouldn’t register. You’d reread the same sentence four times and still couldn’t focus.

Jay’s voice echoed in your head. He’s not doing great.

Why did that still matter to you?

Why did the thought of Heeseung hurting , even after what he did , still twist something in your chest?

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard.

You opened your phone.

You stared at his name.

Lee Heeseung.

Still saved in your contacts. Still there.

You didn’t text him.

But you didn’t delete it either.

—————

Campus Café, 9:47 PM

You were sitting by the window, your laptop glowing in front of you, an untouched croissant on the plate beside your drink.

Sungchan sat across from you. Leaning back, smiling softly. He looked at you like he always did , calm, patient, like he was listening to everything you weren’t saying out loud.

It was peaceful.

Until Heeseung walked in.

He wasn’t looking for you. He didn’t expect you. He was just there to grab a late-night coffee before locking himself in the library. But when his eyes landed on your face, his whole body went still.

He didn’t move. Didn’t order. Just stood there for a second too long, frozen like time had reached out and grabbed him by the throat.

And maybe he could’ve looked away.

Maybe he could’ve pretended he didn’t care.

But then you laughed.

It wasn’t even loud , just a soft little breath that slipped out when Sungchan made some dumb joke.

But it shattered him.

Because he hadn’t heard that laugh in months.

Because that used to be his.

And you weren’t crying anymore.

You weren’t looking for him in crowded lecture halls.

You weren’t even sparing him a glance.

You were moving on.

And it hit him harder than any fight, any scream, any goodbye ever could.

He left before you noticed.

Didn’t even get his coffee.

And before he knew it he was at his dorm, Jake wasn’t back, he was still in class.

Heeseung slammed the door shut harder than he meant to.

The sound echoed off the walls, but he didn’t care. His hands were still shaking , not from anger, but from something uglier.

Jealousy.

Loss.

The ache of watching you smile at someone else like he’d never existed.

He threw his backpack onto the floor, kicked his sneakers off with barely a thought, and collapsed into his desk chair. The room was dark except for the desk lamp’s soft orange glow. His laptop was still open on a half-finished lecture slide, the cursor blinking, waiting for input. Like everything else in his life.

He ignored it.

His head fell into his hands.

All he could see was you , the curve of your lips when you laughed, the way your eyes sparkled, the casual brush of your arm against Sungchan’s. It wasn’t even romantic. It didn’t need to be.

It destroyed him anyway.

Because you never smiled like that around him anymore.

Because the only time you looked at Heeseung was when your eyes were sharp and guarded, like you were trying not to flinch.

And that hurt more than yelling. More than anything.

He pressed his palms into his eyes. Hard.

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop.

You’d been skipping class. You looked tired, thinner. And for days he convinced himself it wasn’t his business anymore. But it was. It always would be.

He could feel it , in the hollow pit in his chest, in the gnawing guilt every time your name came up in a conversation and he had to pretend he didn’t care.

And tonight?

Tonight broke something in him.

Heeseung stood up suddenly, knocking his chair over. It hit the floor with a thud, echoing across the quiet dorm.

Then he just stood there.

Hands clenched.

Breathing uneven.

He wanted to text you. Call you. Bang on your door and say something. Anything.

But he didn’t even know who he was to you anymore.

Not a friend. Not someone you trusted. Not someone you needed.

He leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor.

He didn’t cry.

Didn’t scream.

Didn’t move.

He just sat there.

Still.

Like his body was there, but everything else had checked out.

Because what was left to say?

He’d spent months pretending it didn’t matter. Pretending you didn’t matter.

Now you were right there , smiling at someone else, looking okay without him , and suddenly, it all hit him at once.

The way your eyes used to light up around him.

The way they don’t anymore.

And worst of all , the way you looked happier without him in the picture.

That was what gutted him.

Not the jealousy. Not the guilt.

The fact that you seemed fine.

And he wasn’t.

So he sat there, back to the wall, legs stretched out on the cold floor, staring at the ceiling like it held answers.

It didn’t.

His mouth was dry. His heart was loud. He didn’t reach for his phone. Didn’t try to fix it.

Because deep down, he knew,

There’s only so many times you can rip something apart before it stops being something you can put back together.

Because he couldn’t fix what he broke.

And the worst part was, he wasn’t sure if you’d ever let him try.

—————

The next day at Jay’s place, the boy started to notice how off Heeseung was.

“Okay, what the hell is up with him?” Jay asked, finally breaking the silence.

Heeseung was slumped on the couch, hoodie over his head, scrolling on his phone with the screen dimmed like he wasn’t even reading it. His knee bounced. His eyes were red-rimmed, not quite bloodshot, but tired , like sleep had been something he stopped trying to chase.

Jake looked up from his spot at the kitchen counter, raising an eyebrow. “You mean more than usual?”

“No, seriously,” Sunghoon chimed in, tossing a ping pong ball at the table and missing completely. “He’s been acting weird all week. Didn’t come out Thursday, skipped beer pong last night, didn’t even say anything when those girls from the club showed up.”

“That’s when I knew it was serious,” Jay muttered.

Jake leaned over the island, arms crossed. “Heeseung. Bro.”

No response.

Heeseung kept staring at his phone like it held the answer to a question he was too afraid to ask. A screen full of untouched texts and empty drafts. His thumb hovered over your name , the chat thread still stuck on a dumb meme from months ago.

“Earth to Heeseung?” Jake said louder this time, walking over. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Heeseung muttered, dragging his hood further down. “Just tired.”

Jay frowned. “You’ve been ‘just tired’ for a week. That girl from your econ class literally offered to walk you home the other night and you didn’t even blink.”

Sunghoon’s voice lowered a bit. “Is this about her?”

The silence was all the answer they needed.

Jake sat down next to him with a sigh. “So… something happened?”

Heeseung didn’t answer at first. Just let his phone drop onto the couch next to him. He stared straight ahead at the TV, which wasn’t even on.

“She was with Sungchan.”

Jay leaned back, eyes narrowing. “Like, with Sungchan? Or just walking with him?”Heeseung gave a humorless laugh. “Doesn’t matter. She looked happy.”

Jake’s brow furrowed. “Okay, but that’s not new. You’ve been acting like she doesn’t exist for months. What did you expect?”

“I didn’t expect it to hurt this much,” Heeseung snapped, then immediately looked away. His voice was too raw, too loud , too unlike him.

The room fell silent. Sunghoon sat down on the arm of the couch, finally serious. “Do you still like her, as a friend or more?” Heeseung didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

Jay spoke up after a long pause. “You never told us what happened. One day you two were always together. Then suddenly you were throwing parties every weekend and ignoring her like she didn’t exist. And you expected that to not backfire?”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched. Jake glanced at him sideways. “You could just talk to her.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because she looked at me like I was a stranger,” Heeseung said quietly. “Like I was someone she was trying to forget.” They all fell quiet again.

Sunghoon finally muttered, “Then maybe stop giving her reasons to.” Heeseung didn’t respond. He just sat there, unmoving. Unwell. Like someone who realized too late that the silence he built to protect himself had become the very thing keeping him away from the only person he wanted to hear from.

“That’s enough, bar night?” Jake asked

“Hell yeah, and yes your going Heeseung” Sunghoon said, looking at him.

They made sure Heeseung got dressed and went with them

Fast forward

“Heeseung, slow down,”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re really not.”

Jake glanced at Jay, who just shook his head in frustration, then at the empty glass Heeseung had just slammed down. It was his fifth drink. Maybe sixth. He’d stopped keeping count after shot number three. His words were slurred now, hoodie pushed off, hair a mess, and that cocky play-boy grin he usually wore like a shield?

Gone.

“You didn’t even eat dinner, dude,” Sunghoon muttered, steadying him when Heeseung nearly tripped getting off the bar stool. “You’re gonna throw up.”

“Good,” Heeseung laughed bitterly. “Maybe I’ll feel something other than”

He stopped himself. Head tilting up, eyes fluttering closed like he was trying to stop the room from spinning. But his voice dropped, quiet and hoarse.

“She was smiling with him.”

Jay stared. “Dude.”

“She never smiled like that with me. Not lately.”

Jake sighed. “That’s because you ghosted her. For months.”

“I know that,” Heeseung snapped, louder now, nearly stumbling backward as he turned to pace. “I know I’m the asshole. I know I fucked it all up. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

“We’re trying to stop you from drinking yourself into a coma, idiot.”

But Heeseung wasn’t listening anymore. He was somewhere else. Somewhere in the past , maybe in your dorm, maybe that project meeting, maybe back in the hallway that day when he bumped into you.

He leaned against the bar, eyes glassy, voice barely a whisper.

“I still care.”

And that’s when Jake looked at Jay.

Jay was already pulling out his phone.

“Don’t,” Heeseung muttered. “Don’t call her. Don’t drag her into this.”

But the moment Jake saw your name in Jay’s contacts, his fingers were already moving.

Because Heeseung was too far gone.

And you were the only person he’d ever softened for.

1:30 AM

Your phone lit up just as you were about to crawl into bed.

Jay <3: hey… this is random but can u come get heeseung? he’s way too drunk and keeps talking abt u and we don’t think he’s okay.

You stared at the message, heart dropping. Then it buzzed again.

Jay <3: do us this favor, just once. I’ll buy you matcha tomorrow.

And for some reason , despite the ache, despite everything , you got up.

Pulling on your sweater, grabbing your bag and heading out.

1:47 AM

When you got there, it was worse than you expected.

Heeseung was sitting on the curb, hoodie back on but unzipped, sleeves not pushed up this time. His head was tilted back toward the sky like he was trying to ground himself in something real. Jake stood beside him, arms crossed. Jay was nervously checking his phone, and Sunghoon visibly relaxed the second he saw you.

“Thank god,” Jay muttered. “He won’t even let us call an Uber.”

Your gaze flicked to Heeseung.

He looked… empty.

And when his eyes met yours, something inside him shifted.

He straightened, but swayed a little. “You came.”

You didn’t say anything.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Then why did you keep saying my name?”

He looked at you like he didn’t have the energy to lie. His voice cracked. “Because you’re the only one who ever gave a shit.”

You closed your eyes for a second, trying not to flinch.

Jake hands you his phone “He needs someone he trusts. That’s you.”

“Sure whatever, I don’t.” you murmured.

“Maybe not,” Jake said quietly. “But he still wants to try.”

You crouched in front of him, slow and cautious. “Can you stand?”

Heeseung nodded, but when he tried to get up, he faltered , and instinctively, your hands reached out to steady him.

He didn’t let go.

You and Heeseung grab a uber that the boys called after you came to get Heeseung.

Heeseung slumped against the backseat window, quiet.

You sat on the other end of the seat, arms folded tight across your chest, as far from him as the small space would allow. Your bag was in your lap, phone gripped so tightly it ached. You weren’t looking at him. You refused to.

But you could feel him.

The tension. The weight of everything that hadn’t been said.

He didn’t speak either , not until the car turned onto campus roads.

“…Sorry.”

Your eyes flicked toward him.

He wasn’t looking at you. Just out the window, lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. His jaw was tight.

“I didn’t want them to call you.”

“You didn’t stop them either.”

Silence.

Then, quieter , “I didn’t want anyone else.”

You turned away. Jaw clenched. Because it hurt. It hurt so fucking much, and you didn’t know how many more times you could hear things like that without unraveling.

1:57 AM

The hallway was dim when you reached your door. Heeseung stumbled once, and you caught his arm without thinking , quick, steady. He looked down at where your hand wrapped around his hoodie sleeve, but said nothing.

You let him in first.

The second the door shut behind you, the air shifted.

Your dorm smelled like vanilla and laundry detergent. Soft light spilled from the lamp on your desk. Your laptop was still open, your textbook still flipped to the same page you’d been rereading all week and not absorbing.

Heeseung stood awkwardly in the middle of your room, blinking.

It was the closest he’d been to you in months. Really been to you. Not across a table. Not passing by. Not hiding behind everything he turned into to forget who he used to be.

“You can sit,” you muttered, setting your bag down and kicking off your shoes. You walked to your closet, pulled out an old blanket, then tossed it on the edge of the bed without looking at him. “You’re not sleeping here, just staying until you’re sober enough to walk back. Got it?”

He nodded slowly, eyes never leaving your face.

But the second he sat on the floor , back against your bed, long legs stretched out in front of him , something in you stuttered. Because he looked tired. Not just physically. But drained. Cracked open and hollow.

And you hated it.

You hated how even now, after all the silence, you still felt him.

1:08 AM

Neither of you spoke.

You pretended to scroll through your phone. You weren’t.

Heeseung let his head fall back against the edge of your mattress. His hoodie had slipped off one shoulder. His eyes were closed. For a second, you thought maybe he’d fallen asleep.

Then,

“You stopped wearing your bracelet I gave you.”

You froze.

It was barely above a whisper, but you heard it clear as day.

You turned your chair slightly. “Why are you looking?”

“I never stopped.”

Your heart cracked down the middle.

You stood up fast , too fast , walking over to grab a glass of water from your nightstand, pretending like you didn’t hear him. Like the way he said it hadn’t lodged itself in your ribs.

When you turned back, his eyes were open.

And he looked at you like he was seeing something sacred. Something distant and aching and untouchable.

“I kept everything you gave me,” he said. “Even if I didn’t deserve to.”

You didn’t speak.

You just handed him the water and sat back down , this time closer.

But not close enough.

The water glass sat untouched in his hands. Heeseung stared at it for a while like he forgot why you gave it to him in the first place.

You were sitting on the edge of your bed now, legs down and crossed and so did Heeseung.

Neither of you had spoken in a few minutes. But for once, the silence didn’t ache.

It just… settled.

Gentle. Unsteady.

You glanced over.

He was looking at you again , not like earlier, not drunk and sloppy , but with something fragile behind his eyes. Like he didn’t want to blink and risk losing this.

And maybe that was what finally cracked something open in you.

Because you spoke first.

“You looked sad when they brought you to me.”

Heeseung’s gaze flickered toward you, guarded at first , like he wasn’t sure if you were trying to start something. But you weren’t.

You were just… honest.

“You weren’t stumbling or wild like they said. You just looked… empty.”

He stared at his hands. The silence between you stretched until it started to ache.

Then he spoke, voice low and unsteady.

“I didn’t want to be there.”

Your lips parted slightly, unsure what to say. But his next words came quicker.

“I kept thinking about what you said that night.” His jaw tightened. “About how I left. How I made you feel.”

He finally looked at you.

“And I guess it hit me. What I did… what I lost.”

Your chest ached.

Because this was the version of him you hadn’t seen in so long , the one who let his guard down, even if it hurt.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

Heeseung looked like he hated himself for saying all of it. Like the words had scraped their way out of him, raw and unpolished. And maybe that’s what made them feel real.

You swallowed, shifting slightly on the edge of your bed. “You didn’t just lose me, Heeseung. You pushed me away.”

“I know.”

“And it wasn’t just one moment. It was every time you ignored me. Every time you looked through me like I didn’t matter anymore.”

“I know,” he said again, quieter now. “I was… trying not to feel anything. It was easier.”

“Was it?”

He didn’t answer.

Because you both knew it wasn’t.

You exhaled shakily and looked away, but then , he moved.

Not dramatically, not suddenly. Just close enough to sit beside you, knees brushing. His head hung low between his shoulders, like he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes again.

But when he finally did, it was devastating.

“You were the only person I ever felt safe around,” he said, voice fraying at the edges. “And I still fucked it up.”

You blinked hard, throat thick. “You did.”

And that honesty,made his jaw clench. But he didn’t run from it. He just nodded once, like he was bracing himself.

Silence followed. But it wasn’t cold anymore.

It felt fragile.

Tentative.

His knee brushed yours again. Neither of you pulled away.

“I don’t know if you’ll ever trust me again,” he murmured, eyes tracing the curve of your jaw like it hurt to look. “But I never stopped thinking about you. Not for one second.”

You turned to him slowly. Your face was unreadable. Quiet.

Then, barely above a whisper:

“Then why did you let me go?”

Heeseung’s lips parted, but no words came out.

He looked like he wanted to give you an answer , a real one. Something that would finally make sense of all the silence and distance and bruised pride. But he couldn’t.

Instead, he leaned in.

Cautiously. Gently. Like he didn’t deserve to want this.

And you could’ve pulled away. You could’ve stopped him.

But you didn’t.

His lips met yours , soft, tentative, as if he was asking a question with the way he kissed you.

You kissed him back , slowly, with the ache of everything unsaid still burning in your chest.

It wasn’t a make-up kiss.

It wasn’t forgiveness.

It was grief. Confession. Years of wanting tangled in apology.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads stayed pressed together, breaths shallow and uneven.

No words.

Not yet.

Just the heavy, quiet knowledge that something had shifted.

Maybe not enough to fix things.

But enough to crack something open.

You didn’t know who moved first.

Maybe it was you. Maybe it was him. Maybe it didn’t matter.

Because the second your lips met again, it was different.

No longer careful. No longer tentative.

Heeseung kissed you like he’d been holding his breath for months and finally exhaled. His hands found your waist, warm and trembling, and yours tangled in the hem of his hoodie, curling in the fabric like you needed something to hold on to.

The kiss deepened.

You felt it in your chest. In your fingertips. In the soft sound he made when you tugged him closer, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

You could feel the weight of everything between you , resentment, yearning, hurt , dissolving into the spaces where your mouths met. Where your breaths mixed. Where your bodies pressed just barely too close to be innocent.

Heeseung’s hand slid beneath your shirt, not boldly , just resting on your bare waist like he was grounding himself. His thumb brushed slow, reverent circles against your skin, and you shivered.

“You can tell me to stop,” he whispered against your lips. “I don’t want you to,” you whispered back. And it was true.

Even with everything unspoken. Even with your heart still pieced together with questions. Right now, you wanted this, the ache in his kiss, the way he held you like you were something delicate and holy.

Your back hit the mattress, his weight following but never crushing. He hovered, eyes searching yours.

“You’re sure?” he asked again, voice low, thick with restraint.

You nodded. “I’m sure.”

He kissed you again, slower this time. Softer.

Like he was memorizing every second.

His hands never roamed too far. Just your hips, your ribs, the curve of your jaw , like he was worshiping more than touching.

And when he pulled back just enough to see you again, his voice cracked slightly. “I missed you so much it made me sick.”

Your throat tightened. You reached up to cup his cheek.

“I know.”

Heeseung’s hand cupped your jaw gently, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him this close again. Like he was afraid to break whatever fragile thread held the two of you together.

But your fingers curled in his shirt and you didn’t let go.

Not when his lips traveled to your neck. Not when he whispered your name like a prayer, like he was trying to say sorry without saying it. Not when his hands slipped under your shirt and he paused, looked at you , really looked , like he needed your permission to do anything.

You nodded.

And that was all it took.

Heeseung kissed down your chest, your stomach, slow and reverent like he’d been waiting forever for this. Every touch, every press of his lips was careful , not out of hesitation, but intention. Worship.

When his fingers hooked in the waistband of your shorts, he glanced up again, eyes dark, voice wrecked.

“Still okay?”

Your heart was hammering, breath uneven. “Yeah. Please.”

He kissed the inside of your thigh first, soft and maddening. Then again, closer this time. You gasped when he finally dragged his tongue through your folds, slow and thorough. Your hips twitched, and his hands came up to steady you gently.

“God,” you breathed, already coming undone.

He didn’t rush. Heeseung took his time , learning you, responding to every breath, every stuttered moan. He sucked lightly at your clit and you whimpered, one hand flying to his hair without thinking. He groaned when you tugged, the vibration making your eyes flutter shut.

You felt every flick of his tongue, every gentle curl of his finger when he slid one inside you. Your thighs trembled and he tightened his grip, keeping you right there as your back arched, the pleasure climbing fast and hot through your core.

“Hee,” you gasped, falling apart beneath him.

His cock getting harder just from you moaning.

Your whole body tensed before releasing all at once , breathless, shaking, his name still lingering on your lips. He didn’t pull away until your thighs relaxed, until the aftershocks faded and you slumped back onto the mattress.

He kissed your inner thigh once more. Then your stomach. Then the corner of your mouth as he crawled back up beside you.

You didn’t open your eyes.

Heeseung didn’t stop for long.

Not after the way your body trembled under him. Not after the way your breath hitched every time his mouth found a new spot that made you melt.

His eyes lingered on you as he moved back down, slower this time , like he was savoring the moment. You were still bare and sensitive, your thighs parted willingly, your chest rising and falling in uneven, dizzying rhythm.

“Can I keep going?” he asked, voice low and raspy, lips brushing against your hip.

You nodded, too dazed to speak, but he waited.

“I need to hear it,” he murmured. “Please.”

“Y-Yeah,” you whispered. “Please.”

That was all he needed.

He dipped between your thighs again, his hands splayed warm and steady on your hips, thumbs stroking gentle, grounding circles into your skin. His tongue slid over your folds with more purpose now , firmer, deeper, messier. Like he was making up for lost time. Like he couldn’t get enough.

Your fingers flew back into his hair, your hips arching off the bed. “Oh my god,Heeseung…”

He moaned softly into you, the vibration sparking sharp pleasure up your spine. He sucked on your clit now, slow pulses between licks that made your legs tremble. He pulled back only to kiss you again, messily, then dive in harder.

It was too much. Not enough.

His name spilled from your mouth over and over, broken and breathless, as he slid a finger inside again , then a second. He curled them just right, his tongue working in tandem like he already knew every part of you by heart.

The coil in your belly tightened fast , impossibly fast , and when he added just a little more pressure, you cried out, thighs clenching around his head as another orgasm crashed into you. Your hands were gripping his shoulders now, pulling him closer even as your body trembled with overstimulation.

He didn’t stop right away. He kept licking gently through it, easing you down from the high with soft, languid strokes until your legs finally relaxed and your breathing slowed.

He kissed your inner thigh again. Then again. Then the soft crease of your hip, murmuring something against your skin , a whisper you couldn’t hear but felt all the way in your chest.

When he finally looked back up at you, his lips were wet, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes held something raw.

Something worshipful

Heeseung’s hands were gentle as they slid beneath your shirt again, lingering on your waist like he was anchoring himself to you. His fingers moved in slow, reverent circles, the warmth of his touch sending shivers racing along your skin.

His lips found the curve of your neck, soft and tentative, as if afraid to disturb anything fragile between you.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, voice thick with something unspoken.

You closed your eyes, tilting your head to give him better access, breath catching where his lips grazed your pulse.

You felt him pause, looking up at you with those intense eyes, searching.

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice husky and quiet

You nodded, unable to trust your voice, heart pounding loud in the stillness.

He smiled , small, almost shy , before he slowly slid your shirt off, inch by inch, letting every movement linger. You felt the cool air against your bare skin, and the contrast made the warmth of his hands even more electrifying.

He hesitated, breath shallow, then leaned down to kiss the soft skin of your chest. His lips were feather-light, sending sparks that made you gasp softly.

He traced lazy patterns on your nibbles with his tongue, every lick slow and deliberate, as if he was memorizing your body.

“H-hee..” you whimper out, moaning everytime he licks your nipple.

Your hands found his hair, fingers weaving in gently, urging him closer without a word.

When he finally looked up, his eyes dark and shimmering with need, you felt exposed and safe all at once.

He kissed you deeply, hands pressing into your hips, holding you steady as he lowered himself between your legs.

His tongue found your sensitive folds for the third time, moving slow and tender, exploring every inch with a worshipful care that made your knees tremble.

Heeseung’s fingers lingered at your hips, tracing gentle circles as he met your gaze with quiet intensity. His breath was steady but thick with something deeper , need, care, and something unspoken.

He paused, searching your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, heart pounding hard but steady. “I’m sure.”

With the softest of smiles, he leaned down to kiss you, slow and lingering, as if memorizing the taste of your lips one last time before moving forward.

His hands slid lower, cupping your thighs and spreading them carefully. The air between you thickened with anticipation, every nerve ending alive.

his cock sprang free from his sweats and boxers, hard and leaking, the head flushed red. he hovered over you, eyes dark and hungry, but still searching your face for any doubt.

you shook your head, barely, heart racing. you wanted this. wanted him.

his fingers slid through your folds again, slow and teasing, making sure you were soaked for him. then he lined himself up at your entrance, the tip brushing against you, hot and steady.

“tell me if it hurts,” he whispered, voice low and rough against your ear.

you nodded, breath caught in your throat.

he pushed in slow,inch by inch,careful, gentle, like he was trying to remember the way you took him. the stretch made you whimper, but it felt good, so good. his forehead rested on yours, breath heavy.

you held onto his shoulders, legs trembling as he paused once he was fully inside, letting you adjust.

then he started to move. slow, deep thrusts. not rushed, not rough,just steady and full of tension, like he didn’t want to miss a single second. his hands gripped your hips, grounding himself in you.

h-hee, fuck! i can’t, s’ too much!” you cried out, nails digging into his back as your body trembled under him.

he groaned, eyes locked on yours, filled with heat and something almost tender.

“yes you can, baby,” he murmured, thrusts slow but deep, dragging against your walls just right. “take it like a good girl, yeah?”

his hand slid up your thigh, squeezing gently as he pushed in deeper.

“you’re doing so good for me,” he whispered, voice like a low hum in your ear.

“so fuckin’ perfect like this. taking all of me.”

your back arched when he hit that spot inside you, a gasp ripping out of you.

your fingers curled into the sheets. his hips rolled in again, slower this time, dragging the pleasure out.

“fuck… you’re perfect,” he breathed against your lips, voice thick and shaky.

your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and he took the hint,his thrusts got deeper, needier, your name slipping from his lips between moans.

the sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, mixed with soft gasps and breathy whimpers.

your stomach tightened, that familiar heat building fast.

“come for me,” he whispered, lips brushing your neck.

you came hard, body shaking, walls clenching around him as you moaned his name like a prayer. he fucked you through it, slow and sweet, letting you ride it out.

when he came, it was with a deep groan, hips pressing all the way in as he filled you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he said softly.

You could only blink at him, still catching your breath, completely undone.

And for the first time in what felt like months, your heart didn’t feel so heavy.

You just whispered, soft and shaky, “You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he said. His voice cracked. “You don’t get it, do you?”

You blinked at him, still hazy. “Get what?”

Heeseung exhaled hard, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

“You never stopped being the only one I wanted.”

You weren’t sure how long you lay there , your body still warm and humming, skin flushed and buzzing with the aftershocks. But you felt him before you saw him.

Heeseung was climbing up beside you, wordlessly. The heat of his chest brushed yours as he reached for the blanket at the foot of your bed, pulling it over you both with care. You heard the sound of your laptop shutting closed, the click of your lamp being turned off until only your soft string lights glowed above.

Then he turned back to you. You were wearing his hoodie.

His touch was feather-light as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, throat dry. “Yeah.”

His eyes searched yours like he didn’t quite believe it. “Tell me if anything hurts. Or if you feel weird. Or… I don’t know. If you need anything.”

You reached out and touched his wrist , gently. “Heeseung.”

That stopped him.

“I’m okay,” you said again, firmer this time. “I promise.”

He hesitated, then let himself relax. His hand slid into yours and stayed there.

A quiet fell over the room again. Not awkward. Not heavy. Just full.

He lay beside you, eyes tracing your face like he didn’t want to forget anything , like he was afraid this would disappear the moment he blinked.

You turned toward him slowly. “Why did you call me tonight?” Heeseung looked down, his expression softening. “I didn’t mean to. Jake did.” You almost laughed, but the sound died in your chest. He looked back at you. “But I think I would’ve. If they didn’t… I think I would’ve eventually.”

You swallowed. “I didn’t think you’d want me anymore.”

“Y/N.” His voice cracked. “I never stopped wanting you. That was the problem.”

You looked at him now , really looked , and something in your chest ached all over again. He still looked so broken, like guilt and longing were battling behind his eyes.

So you leaned closer.

Your forehead pressed to his.

His breath stuttered.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer until your chest pressed to his, and he breathed you in like he’d missed the way you felt against him. Like he was terrified he’d wake up and it’d all be gone.

“Stay,” you murmured. Heeseung looked at you, blinking slow. “You want me to?” “Just for tonight,” you whispered. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

He shifted with you until you were tangled together under the covers, your cheek pressed to his chest, his fingers tracing small, idle shapes across your back. And for once , for the first time since things fell apart , it felt like breathing didn’t hurt. You didn’t know what tomorrow would look like. You didn’t know if this was closure or a beginning. But for now, wrapped in his arms and in the quiet warmth of something long-missed, it was enough. He held you like a promise.

And you let him.

—————

The next morning , 7:44 AM

The dorm was quiet, sunlight creeping lazily through the blinds. Heeseung unlocked the door softly, stepping inside like he didn’t want anyone to hear.

Too bad they already had.

“Look who finally came home,” Jay’s voice called from the couch, way too smug for this early. “Was it a walk of shame or…?”

Heeseung blinked, startled. “Why the hell are you all awake?”

“Because unlike you,” Sunghoon chimed in from the kitchen, “some of us didn’t disappear for twelve hours after getting blackout wasted.”

Jake walked out from the hallway, toothbrush still in his mouth. He looked Heeseung up and down, eyes narrowing like he was analyzing a crime scene.

“Same clothes,” Jake mumbled around the toothbrush. “No hoodie. Hair looks like you got mauled. Definitely didn’t sleep here.”

“Not when you’re this obvious,” Jay smirked, arms crossed. “So? What happened?”

Heeseung kicked off his shoes with a grunt and muttered, “Nothing.”

Jake scoffed. “Nothing? You disappear all night, come back wearing the same clothes, but without your hoodie, looking like you’ve been through an emotional car crash, and you want us to believe nothing happened?”

Heeseung avoided their eyes, brushing past them toward the bathroom. “Drop it.”

But Sunghoon leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. “You were with Y/N.”

It wasn’t a question.

Just fact.

Heeseung froze for a beat,just long enough to give himself away.

“I said drop it,” he muttered, voice lower now. Less defensive. More… tired.

Jay exchanged a knowing look with Jake, who tilted his head and said, “So… are we talking closure or something else?”

Heeseung didn’t answer.

Didn’t flinch.

Just closed the bathroom door behind him.

Softly, this time.

There was a long silence outside.

Then Sunghoon exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn.”

Jake flopped onto the couch, still staring at the closed door. “Whatever it was… it got to him.”

Jay nodded, more serious now. “He’s been holding that shit in for months.”

Sunghoon laughs. “But he definitely got some pussy”

—————

Heeseung was gone.

You sat up slowly, fingers clutching the blanket still warm with leftover traces of last night. The sleeves of his hoodie hung past your wrists, soft and oversized, carrying the faintest hint of his cologne , mixed with alcohol, familiar, like something you’d spent months trying to forget.

It was warm around you, but not enough to calm the way your chest ached. Heeseung was gone. Your chest tightened. You hadn’t expected him to stay. Not really. But still… some part of you had hoped.

The vulnerability, the confessions, the softness in his voice , it all felt too real to just be temporary. Too raw to be another mistake. You reached for your phone on the nightstand. No texts. No missed calls. Just the time: 10:13 a.m.

You rubbed your eyes and leaned back against the pillows, breath shaky. You rubbed your eyes and leaned back against the pillows, breath shaky. The fabric of his hoodie still clung to your skin, the sleeves long enough to hide your trembling fingers.

It felt too intimate. Too temporary. You forced yourself to move, throwing the blanket off and planting your feet on the cold floor, grounding yourself. You stood, the oversized hoodie slipping down one shoulder as you padded toward the mirror.

Your reflection looked softer than you remembered. Tired eyes, lips still a little swollen, a flush that hadn’t quite faded yet. You swallowed hard and reached for your hairbrush, trying to steady your thoughts as you started getting ready. Your fingers paused as they hovered over the small jewelry dish on your desk. Among the tangled earrings and rings, it sat there… the bracelet.

The one he gave you months ago. Thin, silver, and understated. The clasp is a little loose now, worn from you taking it on and off too many times. But it still gleamed in the morning light, catching on memories you weren’t ready to name.

You picked it up.

Your hands didn’t shake this time. And as you clasped it around your wrist, something settled in your chest. Not closure. Not clarity. But the quiet beginning of something else. And just as the clasp clicked shut around your wrist, your phone lit up with a familiar name.

Heeseung.

You froze. For a second, you just stared at the screen , thumb hovering, heart thudding a little too loud for the morning stillness. It had only been a few hours since he left, but something about him calling now felt heavier. Like the night wasn’t over yet. You swallowed hard and answered, voice softer than you meant.

“Hey.” There was a pause. You could hear his quiet breathing on the other end. Then, finally, “Did I wake you?” he asked, voice low and rough with sleep, like he hadn’t been up long either. You shook your head, forgetting he couldn’t see. “No. I was just… getting ready.” Another pause. A longer one this time.

“I don’t really know why I called,” he admitted, and you could tell he meant it. You didn’t say anything. Because you knew. And maybe he did too. He exhaled like the silence answered for you. “I didn’t wanna go, you know. I just… I didn’t know what to do.”

Your fingers curled around the edge of the desk. “I know,” you said quietly. “Me neither.” The line went quiet again. You could hear Heeseung shift,like he was pacing, or sitting at the edge of his bed, uncertain. Then, softly: “Can I see you?” Your breath caught. He didn’t rush to explain. Didn’t fill the silence with excuses or backpedal like he usually would. He just… waited. Like he needed this, like he was holding onto the thread of whatever last thing the two of you still had.

“When?” you said, barely “Now. Or, whenever you’re free,” he said, almost too quickly. “I just… want to talk. Not about last night. Just… us.” Your eyes flicked down to the bracelet on your wrist. You shouldn’t want this. But you did. “…Okay,” you whispered. “Yeah. Okay.” You hesitated, glancing around your room like it held the answer. Then you brought the phone back to your ear. “…Where do you wanna meet up?”

Heeseung was quiet for a beat. You could hear the low hum of traffic behind him, like he was already outside. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Somewhere not loud. Not crowded.” You nodded slowly, even though he couldn’t see. “The café by the library?” A soft sound of agreement came through the phone. “Yeah. That’s perfect.” you said with a smile even though you can’t see him. “I’ll meet you there in ten.”

“Okay,” he murmured. Then, quieter: “Thank you.” You grabbed your bag, heart thudding louder than your footsteps as you left your dorm. The air was cooler than expected, your fingers curling into your sleeves as you walked. The campus was quieter now, the late afternoon sun stretching shadows across the pavement. Every step toward the café felt heavier , like you were walking straight into something you couldn’t take back.

When you finally pushed the door open, the soft chime above your head barely registered. He was already there. Sitting in the far corner booth, hoodie sleeves rolled up, one hand cradling a paper cup. He looked up when the door opened, eyes catching yours instantly , like he’d been waiting for just that. And for a second, everything around you blurred. Just you and him. You walked over without a word, sliding into the seat across from him.

Heeseung stared for a moment, something flickering in his gaze when he noticed the bracelet on your wrist. “You kept it,” he said, voice low. You looked down at it, then back at him. “Yeah. I did.” The silence that followed was soft. Not cold like before. Just careful. Heeseung exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around his cup.

“There’s a lot I need to say.” You met his eyes. “Then say it.” He swallowed hard, gaze dropping to the table for a moment before he looked back up at you. There was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there in a long time,uncertainty. Not the cocky, careless look he wore around everyone else. Just raw, unfiltered Heeseung. “I don’t even know where to start,” he said quietly. “There’s no excuse for how I acted. For what I became. For how I treated you.” You didn’t speak. Just let him keep going.

“I thought…” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I thought if I buried everything , the past, you , maybe it’d hurt less. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a fucking mess every time I saw you walk into a room.” You looked at him, searching for honesty. “And did it help?”

He let out a humorless laugh, bitter and small. “Not even for a second.” The weight of it settled between you. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward , it was full. Full of what had been unsaid for too long. “I saw you with Sungchan that night,” Heeseung said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “And it hit me harder than I thought it would.” Your brows knit slightly. “Why?”

“Because he looked at you the way I used to.” His voice cracked, just a little. “And you let him. You let him see you. And I realized… I haven’t in a long time.”

You exhaled, fingers tracing the edge of your sleeve. “You left,” you said, voice steadier than you expected. “You let yourself become someone else. And I kept waiting for the version of you I knew to come back, but he never did. So I stopped looking.”

Heeseung looked like you’d just hit him in the chest. He nodded slowly. “I know I don’t deserve anything from you. Not your forgiveness. Not even this conversation. But I needed you to hear it, from me. Not from Jay, not from anyone else.”

You stayed quiet for a long moment. Letting the words linger. Letting them sink in. “You hurt me, you made me feel like I didn’t exist.” “I know,” he whispered. Your throat tightened, but you didn’t cry. Not yet. “So what now?”

Heeseung leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table like he needed to be closer to breathe right. His eyes searched yours, desperate and soft all at once.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t expect things to go back to how they were. I don’t even know if they should. But I just… I wanted you to know I never stopped caring. Not really. I just forgot how to show it.”

You looked away, staring out the café window, heart beating too loud in your chest.

And for a long moment, neither of you spoke. The coffee between you went cold.

But his presence didn’t feel like a wound anymore. It felt like a scar that might finally be healing. Heeseung’s eyes lifted slowly at your words, like he wasn’t sure he heard you right. Your voice was softer this time, but steady. “We can try it out.” He blinked. “Try…?”

You nodded, heart thudding in your chest. “This. Us. I’m not saying we pick up where we left off. I don’t even know what that would look like. But I felt something last night,” you breathe before counting… “if you mean what you said, then maybe we don’t have to figure it all out right now. Maybe we just… see where it goes.”

He stared at you like you’d just let sunlight into a room he’d been trapped in for months. And then his lips parted, a quiet breath leaving him like relief and disbelief all at once.

“You mean that?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You offered the smallest smile. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

Heeseung leaned back in his seat, his shoulders dropping for the first time in what felt like forever. He looked at you the way he used to,like you were the only person in the room. Like he could breathe again.

“We can start off as friends again. Then see where it goes.”

“I won’t mess it up this time,” he murmured. “I’ll take it slow. Whatever you need.”

You raised a brow. “Even if I make you wait three business days to reply to your texts?”

He grinned, eyes lighting up with something boyish and real. “I deserve that.”

“I missed you” you said looking at him.

His eyes lit when you said that, “I missed you more than you think, really y/n. I really appreciate you trying this again, we’ll go at your pace.”

You laughed, and something in your chest loosened.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t everything.

But it was something.

And this time, it felt like a beginning.

© hoon4lia 2025. all rights reserved.

[cyjhhyj]

- Nerd, Interrupted II -

part I

enhypen masterlist

wattpad

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down bad!bully!park sunghoon x nerd!reader | enemies-to-lovers | teasing → in love | slow burn | rom-com with emotional depth | size difference | mutual pining | filthy smut | shy but smart reader | possessive, whipped male lead

summary: It starts quiet. Then it gets loud. You break him. He worships you for it.

warning: rough sex, jealousy, choking (consensual), thigh-grabbing, overstimulation, visible precum, filthy dirty talk, degradation mixed with praise, size kink, public tension, desperate moaning, reader crying from pleasure, Sunghoon moaning like a broken man, worship kink, panties pulled aside, full creampie, post-sex shaking, hand-holding during climax, soft aftercare, cheeks squished, eye contact kink, boyfriend begging, body worship, emotional softness, clinginess after fucking

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You’re humming when you walk into class.

Not loudly. Just a soft little tune under your breath as you slide your fingers along the spine of your chemistry book, the hem of your skirt swishing just slightly around your thighs. There’s still gloss on your lips, and the warmth from yesterday still lingers between your ribs — the kind of warmth that stays after someone’s held you like they didn’t know how to let go.

Your neck still smells like him.

You sit down at your usual seat — second row, near the window — and pull out your lab notebook.

A boy slides into the seat beside you.

Not Sunghoon.

You blink.

He’s new. Sharp jaw, friendly eyes, a stupid silver chain peeking from under his collar. And worse?

He’s smiling.

“Hey,” he says casually. “Y/N, right?”

You pause mid-note. “Yeah…”

“Cool. I’m Theo. I just transferred here from Busan.” He offers his hand, confident but not cocky. “Looks like we’re partners for the term.”

You blink down at the schedule paper he’s unrolling next to your desk.

Lab Partner Assignments

Y/N L/N × Theo Kang

Oh.

Right.

Your professor had mentioned reshuffling partners this week. You’d barely paid attention. Too distracted by the memory of Sunghoon’s mouth on your neck.

You clear your throat. “Nice to meet you.”

Theo grins. “Same. Hope you’re smart, ‘cause I suck at titration.”

You smile. Not flirtatiously. Just polite. Nice.

And that’s the mistake.

Because across the room — standing in the doorway, one hand braced casually on the frame — is Park Sunghoon.

And he’s watching.

⸻

His eyes narrow.

He doesn’t move for a solid ten seconds. Just stands there — tall, lean, jaw clenched — and takes in the scene:

You, smiling.

Some new guy, grinning.

Your knees too close.

His fucking seat taken.

When he finally steps in, it’s slow.

Measured.

The sound of his shoes against the tile is soft but sharp enough to make Theo glance up.

“Oh,” Theo says, confused. “Is this your seat?”

You open your mouth, but Sunghoon beats you to it.

“No.” He says it too smoothly. “Used to be. Don’t worry about it.”

Theo blinks. “Oh. Cool.”

Sunghoon walks right past. Drops into the seat behind you.

And doesn’t say another word.

But you can feel it.

The weight of his eyes.

The heat of his jealousy crawling up the back of your neck like a hand pressing down.

You don’t turn around. You know better. You just focus on your notes — even though your pen is starting to tremble and your thighs are suddenly tight.

Theo laughs at something he wrote. “I’m already lost. Did she say twenty-five or fifteen milliliters?”

You lean over. “Twenty-five.”

He leans closer, just to see your notebook.

That’s it.

That’s all it takes.

Behind you, Sunghoon’s breath stutters.

He shifts in his seat.

And when his leg bumps your chair, you know exactly what that meant.

He saw.

___________

Later that afternoon.

You step out into the breezeway after class, heading toward your locker. The hallway is quiet — most students still in session. Your shoes echo faintly on the tile.

You feel the shift before you hear it.

A hand wraps gently — but firmly — around your wrist.

Pulls you into the old AV room. Empty. Dusty. Soft blue light through the blackout curtains. Equipment boxes stacked in the corners.

You turn, startled.

“Sunghoon—?”

He locks the door.

You freeze.

He steps toward you. Slowly.

You step back. One pace. Then another.

Until your back hits the wall.

He doesn’t touch you yet.

Just looks at you.

Then…

“Was he making you laugh?”

His voice is low. Quiet. But not calm.

“No—yes. I mean—he was just being friendly.”

Sunghoon’s eyes don’t blink.

You keep going. “He’s new. He didn’t know—”

“That it was my seat?”

Your breath catches.

“I don’t own you,” he says slowly, “but don’t sit there laughing with another guy like I don’t spend every night thinking about your smile.”

You go silent.

“You think I can watch that? Watch you giggle and lean in and act like he’s the one who gets to sit next to you now?”

He steps closer.

You press back against the wall.

“I’m not mad at you,” he says softly. “But you don’t get it. I’m going insane trying not to lose it.”

“You already are,” you whisper.

His smile is broken. “Yeah.”

You look up at him.

He’s staring down at you like he wants something he’s too afraid to take.

You whisper, “What are you waiting for?”

He exhales.

“I don’t know. Permission. A sign. Anything.”

You reach up.

Fingers curl into his hoodie.

And that’s all it takes.

His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your lip, and his voice cracks when he whispers:

“You’re mine, right?”

__________

His fingers are curled beneath your jaw.

Not tight. Not rough.

But firm — like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold you in place.

And when he says it again, voice breaking?

“You’re mine.”

You feel it in your chest.

Not just a claim. Not just a line.

It’s a need.

You blink up at him — soft, flushed, lips parted — and for a long, breathless second, neither of you says anything. The closet is dark, lit only by the crack of daylight through the slats in the door, the hum of electricity overhead, and the shared sound of your uneven breathing.

He leans in slowly, forehead pressing to yours.

His nose brushes yours.

His voice drops.

“Say it.”

Your throat tightens.

“Say you’re mine, pretty girl. Say it before I lose my fucking mind.”

You close your eyes for just a moment — chest heaving — and then whisper:

“I’m yours.”

His inhale is sharp.

You open your eyes just in time to see his lashes flutter — his whole body tense — and then suddenly his mouth is on yours.

Not gentle this time.

Hungry.

His lips crash into yours like he’s been waiting to taste you again for years. His hand slides down from your jaw to your neck, not choking, just holding — like he wants to feel the words still vibrating through your throat.

You’re gasping now, body pressed back against the supply shelf, the edge of a box digging into your lower back. His tongue licks into your mouth and you whimper into him — breath catching, knees weakening.

He pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips:

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe.

He moans — actually moans — like the sound breaks something inside him.

“Say it louder.”

You cling to him.

“I’m yours, Sunghoon.”

He groans, his hips pressing forward, grinding just slightly against your stomach. He’s hard. Already. And the sound that leaves his throat is borderline feral.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy.”

He kisses down your jaw — wet, hot, open-mouthed — then lower, to your neck. You gasp when his teeth scrape against your pulse point.

“You think I can watch you laugh with someone else?” he growls. “You think I can breathe when someone else touches your arm?”

You tremble.

“You looked so pretty sitting there,” he pants. “Like you didn’t even know what you do to me.”

“I wasn’t—” you gasp as his hand slips under the hem of your skirt, “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous—”

“I am jealous,” he snaps. “I’m fucking drowning in it. You’re all I think about.”

His fingers slide up the inside of your thigh.

You choke on a breath.

“You’re mine, pretty girl,” he growls against your skin. “My girl. My fucking everything.”

His hand finds your panties.

You’re soaked.

He groans, deep and shaking, like he’s wrecked just from the feel of you.

“Of course you’re wet. Of course you are,” he mutters. “You like when I get jealous, don’t you?”

You gasp as he presses against you — two fingers pushing against the soaked fabric.

“You like when I get mean. When I growl in your ear. When I drag you into closets and kiss you until your legs stop working.”

You do.

You really, really do.

And he knows it.

“Say it again,” he hisses. “Say you’re mine while I touch you.”

You’re shaking.

“I’m—oh my god—I’m yours, Sunghoon—please—”

He groans, nearly buckling at the knees.

And then suddenly he’s pulling back, just enough to look at you — eyes glassy, lips swollen, chest rising and falling like he ran a mile.

“I need you,” he says. “Right now. Properly.”

You blink, dazed. “What?”

His voice breaks.

“I need to fuck you.”

________

The closet is too small for this.

Too hot. Too dark. Too quiet to hold the kind of sounds you’re both making — your soft little gasps, the way Sunghoon pants like he’s about to fall apart just from how wet you are.

His fingers are still between your thighs. Rubbing slow, tight circles against your clit through your panties. Not teasing. Not testing.

Just… needing.

And his other hand?

Gripping the back of your neck like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

“I need to fuck you,” he mutters. “I need to—fuck, I can’t wait—”

He mouths at your jaw, your cheek, your lips. His teeth catch your lower lip and pull. You moan into his mouth. Your hips rock against his hand and you feel him twitch in response — through his pants, against your stomach, already hard and leaking.

He kisses you again — deeper now, rougher — and his hand slips under your skirt fully, dragging your soaked panties to the side.

“Can I?” he breathes.

“Yes.”

He groans. Loud. Just from that. Like the sound of your permission breaks something.

“Fuck, baby—thank you—thank you—”

And then he’s rubbing you — bare, soaked, and so sensitive you can barely breathe. His fingers slide up and down your folds, spreading you open like he’s memorizing the feel of your cunt, like he can’t believe this is real.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs. “You’re shaking. Oh my god, baby, look at you—”

You moan — breathy and high — and his head drops to your shoulder as he rubs tight little circles on your clit.

But then — just as suddenly — he stops.

He’s breathing hard.

You blink up at him, confused. “Sunghoon?”

His jaw is clenched. His eyes are tortured.

And then — voice wrecked — he whispers:

“No.”

You freeze. “What?”

He pulls his hand back. Barely. His palm still cups your thigh, but his fingers curl like he’s forcing himself to let go.

“No, not like this. Not here. Not rushed. Not with your panties still on and a box of dry erase markers digging into your spine.”

You open your mouth.

He keeps going.

“You deserve more than a closet, baby,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “I want our first time to be perfect. I want it to be soft. Slow. I want to undress you one button at a time, lay you down, fuck you on clean sheets with the lights on. I want you to feel safe.”

Your throat tightens.

He kisses your temple.

“I want you to remember it,” he murmurs. “Not just because you came. But because you felt loved.”

Your heart aches.

His voice shakes.

“You mean too much to me.”

You reach up and cup his cheek. He leans into it instantly — like a boy who never thought he’d be touched like this.

And when you speak?

It’s barely louder than a whisper.

“Then love me like this.”

He blinks.

You look at him — eyes wide, soft, shining — and say:

“It’s already perfect if it’s you.”

Sunghoon breaks.

You feel it happen — like something snapping just behind his ribs.

His mouth crashes into yours. His hand grabs at your thigh, yanking it around his waist. His other hand fists in your cardigan, pulling you closer, like he wants you everywhere. His cock grinds against your stomach — hard, thick, twitching through his pants.

“Say that again,” he gasps.

You look up at him, ruined already, and whisper:

“I want you. I want this. Right now. You’re the only thing that’s ever felt right.”

He groans — like he’s in pain — and kisses you hard. His hand slips back between your thighs and this time?

He doesn’t stop.

_________

He doesn’t stop this time.

The moment you say it — “It’s already perfect if it’s you” — his hands are on you like he’s afraid someone will come and tear you away. He groans into your neck, arms wrapping around your waist, breath ragged like he’s drowning in it.

“Fuck,” he pants, “say that again—please—say it again.”

You tilt your head back against his shoulder. “I want you.”

He makes a sound. Broken. Low. Wrecked.

“God, baby… you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

And then he turns you.

Not fully.

Just enough that your spine presses into his chest — your skirt lifted slightly, his hand pressed to your stomach. He kisses the top of your shoulder. Then your neck. His hand slides up — over your ribcage, under your cardigan — until he’s cupping your breast and moaning.

“So fucking soft,” he breathes. “You feel like heaven.”

His other hand dips lower, palm spread over your bare thigh. Your panties are still pushed to the side. His fingers ghost over your clit but don’t press — not yet. Not until you feel him press his cock between your ass cheeks, the thin fabric of his boxers the only thing separating you.

And then—without a word—you reach back.

One hand. Slow. Fingertips trailing down his thigh, then up.

And you grab him.

His whole body shudders.

“Ohh—fuck,” he moans, voice breaking.

His head drops to your shoulder. His mouth is open, jaw slack, breath steaming against your skin.

“Baby—fuck, baby—what are you doing—”

You stroke him gently through the fabric. He’s thick, heavy, twitching in your palm. And his hips roll forward, like he can’t help it.

“You’re gonna make me come just from this,” he whines. Whines.

You turn your head slightly. “You like it when I touch you like that?”

“I—fuck—I love it,” he chokes. “Love you—love the way your hand feels on me, the way you look when you beg—God, baby, you’re gonna ruin me.”

His hand trembles as it slides back down.

He cups your pussy from behind — hot, open fingers pressing down, dragging between your folds. You moan, loud and high, and he groans behind you, rutting against your ass like he’s gone feral.

“So wet,” he murmurs, dazed. “You’re dripping, pretty girl. For me. All for me.”

You nod frantically. “Only for you.”

“That’s it,” he growls. “That’s my girl. My nerd. My pretty fucking girl.”

He brings his fingers to his mouth, tastes you, moans, and slides his hand back down without hesitation.

His middle finger circles your clit. Tight, slow pressure. You gasp. Your thighs twitch.

“You feel that?” he whispers, breath hitching. “That’s me loving you. Right here. With my fingers. Gonna make you come like this first, baby. Gonna make you shake for me.”

His voice is low, soothing, but filthy.

“Gonna spread you open with my fingers… get you nice and loose for my cock. Want you to take it all.”

He kisses your shoulder again. Sucks lightly.

And then he slides in one finger.

You moan. Louder than you mean to.

“Shh,” he breathes, curling it inside you. “Don’t want anyone to hear how pretty you sound when I finger you.”

Your body arches against him.

He groans.

“That’s it. Just like that. Let me in.”

He adds a second finger.

Your head falls back on his shoulder.

His mouth finds your jaw.

His hand under your skirt is relentless—curling inside you, pressing hard against that sweet spot while his thumb rubs tight circles over your clit.

“You like that, baby?”

“Y-yes—”

“You gonna come for me like this? Let me feel you squeeze my fingers?”

You whimper.

“Please,” you whisper. “Don’t stop. Please, Sunghoon—please—”

And the way you say his name?

He loses it.

_______

You’re panting.

He’s behind you, chest pressed to your back, fingers still deep inside you — curling just right, thumb circling your clit. Your body’s rocking in his arms, soft whimpers spilling from your lips as you start to break apart.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your shoulder. “You’re so close, I can feel it.”

You are. Your thighs tremble. Your hands grip his arms. You moan his name again — Sunghoon — and the sound that rips from his chest is half prayer, half possession.

“You’re everything,” he breathes. “You feel like fucking heaven.”

He kisses the back of your neck as you come — hard, soaking his fingers, your entire body twitching and arching back into him. He holds you through it, whispering praise the whole time.

“That’s my girl,” he coos. “So pretty. So fucking perfect. I’ve got you.”

And then he pulls his fingers out — slow, reverent — and groans when he sees how wet you are.

“You’re ready,” he says, voice wrecked. “You’re so ready, baby.”

You nod, dazed.

“I want you,” you whisper. “Please.”

Sunghoon kisses your cheek, then gently turns you around in his arms. This time, your chest is flush against his — your back pressed to the supply shelf, his hands cradling your hips.

He looks down at you.

And he smiles.

Soft. Lovesick.

“Hi,” he says, voice shaking.

You giggle. “Hi.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek.

“You sure?”

You nod.

“I’m yours.”

He groans.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You reach up, palm over his heart.

“No. You always have.”

His breath catches.

And then — slow, trembling — he reaches between you.

Pushes his pants lower. Boxers down.

His cock springs free — flushed, red at the tip, thick and veined, leaking already.

You gasp.

“Oh my god…”

“You okay?” he whispers.

“You’re so… big.”

He grins — cocky for just a second — then leans down and kisses you. Gentle. Deep.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises. “I’ll make it good. You’ll feel so good, baby.”

You nod, wide-eyed, trusting.

You grip his shoulders.

And then he lines up — his tip pressed right to your entrance, dragging through your folds.

“Ready?” he whispers.

“Yes.”

He kisses your nose.

“I love you.”

You whimper.

“I love you too.”

And then — finally — he pushes in.

⸻

It’s slow.

It’s so slow.

You feel every inch of him — the stretch, the heat, the way your body opens for him like it’s been waiting for this.

You gasp — loud and high — clinging to his arms as he presses deeper.

“Oh my god—”

He moans. Loudly.

“You feel so good,” he groans, voice raw. “So fucking tight, baby, you’re so warm—”

His jaw tightens. His brow twitches.

He looks like he’s about to cry.

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” he pants. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last—”

You wrap your arms around his neck.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “You feel so good, Sunghoon. You’re perfect. You’re everything.”

His lips crash into yours again — desperate now, open-mouthed and shaking.

“I love you,” he moans into your mouth. “I love you I love you I love you—”

He bottoms out.

Your gasp breaks into a moan.

His hips still. Forehead to yours. Eyes fluttering.

And then?

He thrusts.

⸻

The first real stroke knocks the breath out of you.

“Sunghoon—”

“I’ve got you,” he gasps. “I’ve got you, baby—fuck—you’re mine—”

He kisses your cheeks between every thrust.

“My girl—” kiss

“My love—” kiss

“My fucking everything—” kiss

His hips rock into yours — deep, full strokes, slow but intentional.

You cry out softly.

He moans, his mouth dragging over your jaw, your neck, your lips.

“You feel like heaven,” he gasps. “I never wanna leave this pussy—fuck, you’re so wet, you’re so tight—”

You squeeze around him.

He whines.

“Fuckfuckfuck—do that again—yes—just like that, baby—”

You nod. You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to.

You’re gone.

So is he.

⸻

He loves you in every sense of the word — his hands holding your hips, his lips worshipping every inch of your face, his cock pushing so deep you can’t think.

And every few strokes, he stops — just to look at you.

And every time you moan?

He kisses you like he needs to.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “You were made for me.”

_______

He groans — a sound that scrapes from the back of his throat — and his arms slide under yours, hands gripping your hips from behind, holding you still as he ruts into you from the rear.

“You’re—fuck—you’re taking me so well,” he pants, voice cracked, hair plastered to his forehead as his cock disappears again into your soaked heat. “I don’t—baby, I don’t think I can stop—”

You’re shaking, lips parted, moans spilling from your mouth with every snap of his hips. Every thrust feels like it knocks you higher. Every word he says pulls you closer to unraveling.

“So deep,” you gasp, “you’re so big—”

He growls at that — a low, primal sound — and wraps one arm around your belly, the other coming up to cradle your jaw.

“Turn around,” he murmurs into your ear, breath hot, voice trembling. “Let me see you.”

You do.

You turn.

You let him guide you, breathless and shaking, until your hands are clinging to his shoulders and his hands are on your waist again, lining you up.

And when he slides back inside you—this time face-to-face—your mouth falls open and your eyes flutter.

Because it’s deeper this way. Slower. Full.

“Oh my god—” you moan.

Sunghoon’s head drops to your shoulder. His hips roll. The stretch, the burn, the pressure of it—all of him inside you—makes your eyes fill.

“You’re warm,” he groans. “You’re so fucking warm, I feel like I’m inside the sun.”

You cry out softly when he thrusts again — long and deep, your body jolting with each motion.

“Look at me,” he whispers, lifting his head.

You do.

Your eyes meet.

And it’s like your whole body pulses under his gaze.

He looks at you like you’re sacred.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I fucking love you.”

You whimper, your hands sliding up to his face.

“I love you too.”

And he kisses you — hard, open-mouthed, moaning against your lips as he fucks you deeper, faster.

You feel everything.

His sweat-slicked chest pressing to yours.

The way his cock stretches you with every thrust, nudging that sweet spot over and over until your thighs start shaking.

His moans — God, the sounds he makes — raw, breathy, desperate.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he gasps. “So wet for me. You were made for me. This pussy was fucking made for me—”

You sob out a moan.

Your arms cling to his neck.

“Don’t stop—please, Sunghoon—don’t stop—”

“Never,” he growls. “I’ll fuck you through every lifetime if I have to. I’m not letting anyone else touch you—ever.”

He kisses your cheeks between thrusts.

Your forehead.

Your jaw.

“Pretty girl,” he breathes, “my pretty fucking nerd—fuck—you feel so good, I’m gonna die—”

You’re close. So close you can’t speak.

Your nails dig into his back.

“Come with me,” he pants, voice cracked. “Please, baby—come with me—need to feel you—need to feel it—”

You nod frantically, lips trembling, thighs quivering around his waist.

And then—

He thrusts up, hard, deep—

And your body breaks.

Your orgasm hits like a wave — shaking you, pulling a loud, high-pitched moan from your throat as you come around him, clenching and sobbing his name.

“Sunghoon—!”

And that’s it.

He loses it.

His hips stutter, a groan tearing from his chest, and he buries himself to the hilt—

“F-fuckfuckfuck—I’m coming—”

—before he spills inside you, cock twitching, moaning brokenly into your neck as he fills you with heat.

“God—I love you—I love you—I love you—”

You’re both trembling.

You hold each other like you’re afraid you’ll fall apart.

His forehead is against yours, eyes dazed, lips twitching with every aftershock.

You press your nose to his cheek.

“That felt so good…”

He laughs. Breathless. Destroyed.

“You feel so good. Perfect.”

You kiss his lips.

He kisses your eyelids.

And you both just stand there, full of each other, hearts racing, sweat-damp skin pressed together in the silence.

He lets out a long, shaky breath.

“Can I…” he whispers, voice so quiet you almost miss it.

You blink up at him.

“What?”

He kisses your cheek. Your jaw. His hands still trembling on your waist.

“Fuck,” he whispers, breath caught in his throat. “I wanna be your husband.”

You freeze.

He’s staring at you like it hurts — like loving you is something sacred and unbearable all at once.

“I wanna wake up next to you every day,” he says, chest heaving. “I wanna take you out on dates and come home to you and kiss you when you’re reading those stupid smutty books and tell you you’re mine and—” His voice cracks. “Please, can I be your boyfriend? Can I please be yours?”

Your lips part. Your eyes sting.

Because there’s no hesitation. No pride. Just pure, open, aching love.

You press your forehead to his.

“You already are.”

_______

You don’t know how long you stayed in that tiny supply room.

Minutes. Hours. Days. Maybe an entire season passed while you curled against Sunghoon’s chest, legs tangled, his fingers brushing through your hair like it was the only thing that could keep his heart beating.

But eventually?

You moved.

Together.

Still clinging. Still flushed. Still smiling so hard it hurt.

And now—walking hand in hand down the hallway, your cheeks glowing, his eyes never leaving your face—you feel it.

Everyone sees it.

The shift.

The transformation from “he teases her” to he’d burn the planet down if she frowned.

⸻

You reach the study lounge before he does—mostly because he keeps slowing down to steal glances at you.

“You’re glowing,” he murmurs, catching your hand again. “Like… actually glowing.”

“That’s just fluorescent lighting.”

“No,” he whispers, “that’s love, nerd.”

You roll your eyes but your cheeks flush warm anyway.

You push open the door to the lounge, expecting mild chaos. Maybe a stack of books. Maybe Sunoo on a beanbag with a bag of dried mangoes.

What you don’t expect—

Is everyone there.

Sunoo. Yunjin. Jake. Eunchae. The new guy.

And all of them stop what they’re doing when you walk in—with Sunghoon trailing behind, his hand tightly laced in yours, his hoodie now hanging off your shoulders.

There’s a pause.

A full-body, brain-short-circuiting silence.

And then—

“HOLY SHIT,” Sunoo shrieks, leaping off the couch. “WHAT DID I MISS?!”

“Oh my god,” Yunjin gapes, blinking. “Did you guys—wait—is that his hoodie?!”

You smile, sheepish, tightening your grip on Sunghoon’s hand.

He’s smiling too. Softly. Proudly. Like you’re something he earned and treasures.

Jake drops his pen.

“Bro. You’re holding hands. And not like, haha we tripped into each other—like… real people. In love.”

“We are real people in love,” Sunghoon says, without even flinching.

You choke on your own breath.

Sunoo clutches his chest.

“They admitted it. Oh my god. This is it. True love is real.”

Eunchae claps dramatically.

Yunjin still looks like she’s processing.

Meanwhile, the new guy—Theo, the one Sunghoon had previously nearly burst a vein over—just tilts his head, expression amused.

“Well, this is interesting.”

Sunghoon narrows his eyes.

You squeeze his hand.

“Be nice,” you whisper.

Yunjin grabs her drink, sips from the straw, and leans dramatically against the couch arm.

“Okay, Mr. Flirt,” she says, turning to Theo. “Just so you know? She’s taken. So maybe back off a little.”

Theo pauses.

Raises a brow.

Then lets out the most obnoxiously perfect little laugh.

“Honey,” he says, crossing one leg over the other, “I’m gay.”

The entire room stares.

You blink.

Sunghoon blinks.

Yunjin sputters.

“WHAT?!”

Theo shrugs, reaching for his iced coffee.

“You thought I was flirting? No, babe. I was trying to figure out if her skin routine was CeraVe or sorcery.”

Sunghoon looks like he just lost a ten-year war.

You squeeze his hand tighter.

Yunjin literally facepalms.

“God,” she groans, “I accused a gay man of trying to steal someone’s girlfriend. I need to go home and rethink my entire personality.”

“Too late,” Sunoo chirps. “You’re stuck here with us.”

“Help,” she mutters.

Jake finally speaks.

“Wait—” he blinks. “So this whole thing—like, you two—like, you’re official now?”

Sunghoon doesn’t even hesitate.

He lets go of your hand—just to wrap his arm fully around your waist, pull you close, and kiss the side of your head.

“She’s mine,” he says, voice steady. “And I’m hers.”

“We’re dating,” you add, shy but glowing. “Like… real dating.”

Sunoo sniffs, dramatically dabbing his eyes with a napkin.

“They grow up so fast.”

Eunchae reaches over and rubs his back solemnly.

⸻

Later, you’re curled up on the couch.

Sunghoon’s head in your lap.

Your fingers in his hair.

Everyone’s talking over each other. Sunoo and Theo are now in a full-blown discussion about skincare acids. Jake is writing something down with an expression that suggests he just discovered love exists. Yunjin is still grumbling into her coffee.

And you?

You’re looking down at the boy who used to call you nerd like it was a curse.

Now?

He says it like it’s your name.

“Hey,” he whispers, tilting his head so he can see you better. “Can I tell you something?”

You nod.

“I used to think I liked teasing you,” he says, fingers tracing lazy circles on your knee. “But now I know I was just trying not to fall in love too fast.”

Your throat tightens.

“Sunghoon…”

“Too late though,” he adds, lips curving. “I’m gone for you. Fully. There’s no coming back.”

You smile, your hand smoothing over his hair.

“Good,” you whisper. “Because I love you too.”

⸻

And as the others argue, laugh, tease, and throw popcorn…

You and Sunghoon sit there, wrapped in each other.

No more walls.

No more teasing.

Just a nerd and her menace — completely and irreversibly in love.

And he exhales like he’s finally breathing for the first time.

____________

NERD, INTERRUPTED IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED THANK YOU SM FOR READING PLS COMMENT AND REBLOG HEHEH

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[cyjhhyj]

- Nerd, Interrupted II -

part I

enhypen masterlist

wattpad

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

down bad!bully!park sunghoon x nerd!reader | enemies-to-lovers | teasing → in love | slow burn | rom-com with emotional depth | size difference | mutual pining | filthy smut | shy but smart reader | possessive, whipped male lead

summary: It starts quiet. Then it gets loud. You break him. He worships you for it.

warning: rough sex, jealousy, choking (consensual), thigh-grabbing, overstimulation, visible precum, filthy dirty talk, degradation mixed with praise, size kink, public tension, desperate moaning, reader crying from pleasure, Sunghoon moaning like a broken man, worship kink, panties pulled aside, full creampie, post-sex shaking, hand-holding during climax, soft aftercare, cheeks squished, eye contact kink, boyfriend begging, body worship, emotional softness, clinginess after fucking

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You’re humming when you walk into class.

Not loudly. Just a soft little tune under your breath as you slide your fingers along the spine of your chemistry book, the hem of your skirt swishing just slightly around your thighs. There’s still gloss on your lips, and the warmth from yesterday still lingers between your ribs — the kind of warmth that stays after someone’s held you like they didn’t know how to let go.

Your neck still smells like him.

You sit down at your usual seat — second row, near the window — and pull out your lab notebook.

A boy slides into the seat beside you.

Not Sunghoon.

You blink.

He’s new. Sharp jaw, friendly eyes, a stupid silver chain peeking from under his collar. And worse?

He’s smiling.

“Hey,” he says casually. “Y/N, right?”

You pause mid-note. “Yeah…”

“Cool. I’m Theo. I just transferred here from Busan.” He offers his hand, confident but not cocky. “Looks like we’re partners for the term.”

You blink down at the schedule paper he’s unrolling next to your desk.

Lab Partner Assignments

Y/N L/N × Theo Kang

Oh.

Right.

Your professor had mentioned reshuffling partners this week. You’d barely paid attention. Too distracted by the memory of Sunghoon’s mouth on your neck.

You clear your throat. “Nice to meet you.”

Theo grins. “Same. Hope you’re smart, ‘cause I suck at titration.”

You smile. Not flirtatiously. Just polite. Nice.

And that’s the mistake.

Because across the room — standing in the doorway, one hand braced casually on the frame — is Park Sunghoon.

And he’s watching.

⸻

His eyes narrow.

He doesn’t move for a solid ten seconds. Just stands there — tall, lean, jaw clenched — and takes in the scene:

You, smiling.

Some new guy, grinning.

Your knees too close.

His fucking seat taken.

When he finally steps in, it’s slow.

Measured.

The sound of his shoes against the tile is soft but sharp enough to make Theo glance up.

“Oh,” Theo says, confused. “Is this your seat?”

You open your mouth, but Sunghoon beats you to it.

“No.” He says it too smoothly. “Used to be. Don’t worry about it.”

Theo blinks. “Oh. Cool.”

Sunghoon walks right past. Drops into the seat behind you.

And doesn’t say another word.

But you can feel it.

The weight of his eyes.

The heat of his jealousy crawling up the back of your neck like a hand pressing down.

You don’t turn around. You know better. You just focus on your notes — even though your pen is starting to tremble and your thighs are suddenly tight.

Theo laughs at something he wrote. “I’m already lost. Did she say twenty-five or fifteen milliliters?”

You lean over. “Twenty-five.”

He leans closer, just to see your notebook.

That’s it.

That’s all it takes.

Behind you, Sunghoon’s breath stutters.

He shifts in his seat.

And when his leg bumps your chair, you know exactly what that meant.

He saw.

___________

Later that afternoon.

You step out into the breezeway after class, heading toward your locker. The hallway is quiet — most students still in session. Your shoes echo faintly on the tile.

You feel the shift before you hear it.

A hand wraps gently — but firmly — around your wrist.

Pulls you into the old AV room. Empty. Dusty. Soft blue light through the blackout curtains. Equipment boxes stacked in the corners.

You turn, startled.

“Sunghoon—?”

He locks the door.

You freeze.

He steps toward you. Slowly.

You step back. One pace. Then another.

Until your back hits the wall.

He doesn’t touch you yet.

Just looks at you.

Then…

“Was he making you laugh?”

His voice is low. Quiet. But not calm.

“No—yes. I mean—he was just being friendly.”

Sunghoon’s eyes don’t blink.

You keep going. “He’s new. He didn’t know—”

“That it was my seat?”

Your breath catches.

“I don’t own you,” he says slowly, “but don’t sit there laughing with another guy like I don’t spend every night thinking about your smile.”

You go silent.

“You think I can watch that? Watch you giggle and lean in and act like he’s the one who gets to sit next to you now?”

He steps closer.

You press back against the wall.

“I’m not mad at you,” he says softly. “But you don’t get it. I’m going insane trying not to lose it.”

“You already are,” you whisper.

His smile is broken. “Yeah.”

You look up at him.

He’s staring down at you like he wants something he’s too afraid to take.

You whisper, “What are you waiting for?”

He exhales.

“I don’t know. Permission. A sign. Anything.”

You reach up.

Fingers curl into his hoodie.

And that’s all it takes.

His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your lip, and his voice cracks when he whispers:

“You’re mine, right?”

__________

His fingers are curled beneath your jaw.

Not tight. Not rough.

But firm — like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold you in place.

And when he says it again, voice breaking?

“You’re mine.”

You feel it in your chest.

Not just a claim. Not just a line.

It’s a need.

You blink up at him — soft, flushed, lips parted — and for a long, breathless second, neither of you says anything. The closet is dark, lit only by the crack of daylight through the slats in the door, the hum of electricity overhead, and the shared sound of your uneven breathing.

He leans in slowly, forehead pressing to yours.

His nose brushes yours.

His voice drops.

“Say it.”

Your throat tightens.

“Say you’re mine, pretty girl. Say it before I lose my fucking mind.”

You close your eyes for just a moment — chest heaving — and then whisper:

“I’m yours.”

His inhale is sharp.

You open your eyes just in time to see his lashes flutter — his whole body tense — and then suddenly his mouth is on yours.

Not gentle this time.

Hungry.

His lips crash into yours like he’s been waiting to taste you again for years. His hand slides down from your jaw to your neck, not choking, just holding — like he wants to feel the words still vibrating through your throat.

You’re gasping now, body pressed back against the supply shelf, the edge of a box digging into your lower back. His tongue licks into your mouth and you whimper into him — breath catching, knees weakening.

He pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips:

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe.

He moans — actually moans — like the sound breaks something inside him.

“Say it louder.”

You cling to him.

“I’m yours, Sunghoon.”

He groans, his hips pressing forward, grinding just slightly against your stomach. He’s hard. Already. And the sound that leaves his throat is borderline feral.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy.”

He kisses down your jaw — wet, hot, open-mouthed — then lower, to your neck. You gasp when his teeth scrape against your pulse point.

“You think I can watch you laugh with someone else?” he growls. “You think I can breathe when someone else touches your arm?”

You tremble.

“You looked so pretty sitting there,” he pants. “Like you didn’t even know what you do to me.”

“I wasn’t—” you gasp as his hand slips under the hem of your skirt, “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous—”

“I am jealous,” he snaps. “I’m fucking drowning in it. You’re all I think about.”

His fingers slide up the inside of your thigh.

You choke on a breath.

“You’re mine, pretty girl,” he growls against your skin. “My girl. My fucking everything.”

His hand finds your panties.

You’re soaked.

He groans, deep and shaking, like he’s wrecked just from the feel of you.

“Of course you’re wet. Of course you are,” he mutters. “You like when I get jealous, don’t you?”

You gasp as he presses against you — two fingers pushing against the soaked fabric.

“You like when I get mean. When I growl in your ear. When I drag you into closets and kiss you until your legs stop working.”

You do.

You really, really do.

And he knows it.

“Say it again,” he hisses. “Say you’re mine while I touch you.”

You’re shaking.

“I’m—oh my god—I’m yours, Sunghoon—please—”

He groans, nearly buckling at the knees.

And then suddenly he’s pulling back, just enough to look at you — eyes glassy, lips swollen, chest rising and falling like he ran a mile.

“I need you,” he says. “Right now. Properly.”

You blink, dazed. “What?”

His voice breaks.

“I need to fuck you.”

________

The closet is too small for this.

Too hot. Too dark. Too quiet to hold the kind of sounds you’re both making — your soft little gasps, the way Sunghoon pants like he’s about to fall apart just from how wet you are.

His fingers are still between your thighs. Rubbing slow, tight circles against your clit through your panties. Not teasing. Not testing.

Just… needing.

And his other hand?

Gripping the back of your neck like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

“I need to fuck you,” he mutters. “I need to—fuck, I can’t wait—”

He mouths at your jaw, your cheek, your lips. His teeth catch your lower lip and pull. You moan into his mouth. Your hips rock against his hand and you feel him twitch in response — through his pants, against your stomach, already hard and leaking.

He kisses you again — deeper now, rougher — and his hand slips under your skirt fully, dragging your soaked panties to the side.

“Can I?” he breathes.

“Yes.”

He groans. Loud. Just from that. Like the sound of your permission breaks something.

“Fuck, baby—thank you—thank you—”

And then he’s rubbing you — bare, soaked, and so sensitive you can barely breathe. His fingers slide up and down your folds, spreading you open like he’s memorizing the feel of your cunt, like he can’t believe this is real.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs. “You’re shaking. Oh my god, baby, look at you—”

You moan — breathy and high — and his head drops to your shoulder as he rubs tight little circles on your clit.

But then — just as suddenly — he stops.

He’s breathing hard.

You blink up at him, confused. “Sunghoon?”

His jaw is clenched. His eyes are tortured.

And then — voice wrecked — he whispers:

“No.”

You freeze. “What?”

He pulls his hand back. Barely. His palm still cups your thigh, but his fingers curl like he’s forcing himself to let go.

“No, not like this. Not here. Not rushed. Not with your panties still on and a box of dry erase markers digging into your spine.”

You open your mouth.

He keeps going.

“You deserve more than a closet, baby,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “I want our first time to be perfect. I want it to be soft. Slow. I want to undress you one button at a time, lay you down, fuck you on clean sheets with the lights on. I want you to feel safe.”

Your throat tightens.

He kisses your temple.

“I want you to remember it,” he murmurs. “Not just because you came. But because you felt loved.”

Your heart aches.

His voice shakes.

“You mean too much to me.”

You reach up and cup his cheek. He leans into it instantly — like a boy who never thought he’d be touched like this.

And when you speak?

It’s barely louder than a whisper.

“Then love me like this.”

He blinks.

You look at him — eyes wide, soft, shining — and say:

“It’s already perfect if it’s you.”

Sunghoon breaks.

You feel it happen — like something snapping just behind his ribs.

His mouth crashes into yours. His hand grabs at your thigh, yanking it around his waist. His other hand fists in your cardigan, pulling you closer, like he wants you everywhere. His cock grinds against your stomach — hard, thick, twitching through his pants.

“Say that again,” he gasps.

You look up at him, ruined already, and whisper:

“I want you. I want this. Right now. You’re the only thing that’s ever felt right.”

He groans — like he’s in pain — and kisses you hard. His hand slips back between your thighs and this time?

He doesn’t stop.

_________

He doesn’t stop this time.

The moment you say it — “It’s already perfect if it’s you” — his hands are on you like he’s afraid someone will come and tear you away. He groans into your neck, arms wrapping around your waist, breath ragged like he’s drowning in it.

“Fuck,” he pants, “say that again—please—say it again.”

You tilt your head back against his shoulder. “I want you.”

He makes a sound. Broken. Low. Wrecked.

“God, baby… you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

And then he turns you.

Not fully.

Just enough that your spine presses into his chest — your skirt lifted slightly, his hand pressed to your stomach. He kisses the top of your shoulder. Then your neck. His hand slides up — over your ribcage, under your cardigan — until he’s cupping your breast and moaning.

“So fucking soft,” he breathes. “You feel like heaven.”

His other hand dips lower, palm spread over your bare thigh. Your panties are still pushed to the side. His fingers ghost over your clit but don’t press — not yet. Not until you feel him press his cock between your ass cheeks, the thin fabric of his boxers the only thing separating you.

And then—without a word—you reach back.

One hand. Slow. Fingertips trailing down his thigh, then up.

And you grab him.

His whole body shudders.

“Ohh—fuck,” he moans, voice breaking.

His head drops to your shoulder. His mouth is open, jaw slack, breath steaming against your skin.

“Baby—fuck, baby—what are you doing—”

You stroke him gently through the fabric. He’s thick, heavy, twitching in your palm. And his hips roll forward, like he can’t help it.

“You’re gonna make me come just from this,” he whines. Whines.

You turn your head slightly. “You like it when I touch you like that?”

“I—fuck—I love it,” he chokes. “Love you—love the way your hand feels on me, the way you look when you beg—God, baby, you’re gonna ruin me.”

His hand trembles as it slides back down.

He cups your pussy from behind — hot, open fingers pressing down, dragging between your folds. You moan, loud and high, and he groans behind you, rutting against your ass like he’s gone feral.

“So wet,” he murmurs, dazed. “You’re dripping, pretty girl. For me. All for me.”

You nod frantically. “Only for you.”

“That’s it,” he growls. “That’s my girl. My nerd. My pretty fucking girl.”

He brings his fingers to his mouth, tastes you, moans, and slides his hand back down without hesitation.

His middle finger circles your clit. Tight, slow pressure. You gasp. Your thighs twitch.

“You feel that?” he whispers, breath hitching. “That’s me loving you. Right here. With my fingers. Gonna make you come like this first, baby. Gonna make you shake for me.”

His voice is low, soothing, but filthy.

“Gonna spread you open with my fingers… get you nice and loose for my cock. Want you to take it all.”

He kisses your shoulder again. Sucks lightly.

And then he slides in one finger.

You moan. Louder than you mean to.

“Shh,” he breathes, curling it inside you. “Don’t want anyone to hear how pretty you sound when I finger you.”

Your body arches against him.

He groans.

“That’s it. Just like that. Let me in.”

He adds a second finger.

Your head falls back on his shoulder.

His mouth finds your jaw.

His hand under your skirt is relentless—curling inside you, pressing hard against that sweet spot while his thumb rubs tight circles over your clit.

“You like that, baby?”

“Y-yes—”

“You gonna come for me like this? Let me feel you squeeze my fingers?”

You whimper.

“Please,” you whisper. “Don’t stop. Please, Sunghoon—please—”

And the way you say his name?

He loses it.

_______

You’re panting.

He’s behind you, chest pressed to your back, fingers still deep inside you — curling just right, thumb circling your clit. Your body’s rocking in his arms, soft whimpers spilling from your lips as you start to break apart.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your shoulder. “You’re so close, I can feel it.”

You are. Your thighs tremble. Your hands grip his arms. You moan his name again — Sunghoon — and the sound that rips from his chest is half prayer, half possession.

“You’re everything,” he breathes. “You feel like fucking heaven.”

He kisses the back of your neck as you come — hard, soaking his fingers, your entire body twitching and arching back into him. He holds you through it, whispering praise the whole time.

“That’s my girl,” he coos. “So pretty. So fucking perfect. I’ve got you.”

And then he pulls his fingers out — slow, reverent — and groans when he sees how wet you are.

“You’re ready,” he says, voice wrecked. “You’re so ready, baby.”

You nod, dazed.

“I want you,” you whisper. “Please.”

Sunghoon kisses your cheek, then gently turns you around in his arms. This time, your chest is flush against his — your back pressed to the supply shelf, his hands cradling your hips.

He looks down at you.

And he smiles.

Soft. Lovesick.

“Hi,” he says, voice shaking.

You giggle. “Hi.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek.

“You sure?”

You nod.

“I’m yours.”

He groans.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You reach up, palm over his heart.

“No. You always have.”

His breath catches.

And then — slow, trembling — he reaches between you.

Pushes his pants lower. Boxers down.

His cock springs free — flushed, red at the tip, thick and veined, leaking already.

You gasp.

“Oh my god…”

“You okay?” he whispers.

“You’re so… big.”

He grins — cocky for just a second — then leans down and kisses you. Gentle. Deep.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises. “I’ll make it good. You’ll feel so good, baby.”

You nod, wide-eyed, trusting.

You grip his shoulders.

And then he lines up — his tip pressed right to your entrance, dragging through your folds.

“Ready?” he whispers.

“Yes.”

He kisses your nose.

“I love you.”

You whimper.

“I love you too.”

And then — finally — he pushes in.

⸻

It’s slow.

It’s so slow.

You feel every inch of him — the stretch, the heat, the way your body opens for him like it’s been waiting for this.

You gasp — loud and high — clinging to his arms as he presses deeper.

“Oh my god—”

He moans. Loudly.

“You feel so good,” he groans, voice raw. “So fucking tight, baby, you’re so warm—”

His jaw tightens. His brow twitches.

He looks like he’s about to cry.

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” he pants. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last—”

You wrap your arms around his neck.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “You feel so good, Sunghoon. You’re perfect. You’re everything.”

His lips crash into yours again — desperate now, open-mouthed and shaking.

“I love you,” he moans into your mouth. “I love you I love you I love you—”

He bottoms out.

Your gasp breaks into a moan.

His hips still. Forehead to yours. Eyes fluttering.

And then?

He thrusts.

⸻

The first real stroke knocks the breath out of you.

“Sunghoon—”

“I’ve got you,” he gasps. “I’ve got you, baby—fuck—you’re mine—”

He kisses your cheeks between every thrust.

“My girl—” kiss

“My love—” kiss

“My fucking everything—” kiss

His hips rock into yours — deep, full strokes, slow but intentional.

You cry out softly.

He moans, his mouth dragging over your jaw, your neck, your lips.

“You feel like heaven,” he gasps. “I never wanna leave this pussy—fuck, you’re so wet, you’re so tight—”

You squeeze around him.

He whines.

“Fuckfuckfuck—do that again—yes—just like that, baby—”

You nod. You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to.

You’re gone.

So is he.

⸻

He loves you in every sense of the word — his hands holding your hips, his lips worshipping every inch of your face, his cock pushing so deep you can’t think.

And every few strokes, he stops — just to look at you.

And every time you moan?

He kisses you like he needs to.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “You were made for me.”

_______

He groans — a sound that scrapes from the back of his throat — and his arms slide under yours, hands gripping your hips from behind, holding you still as he ruts into you from the rear.

“You’re—fuck—you’re taking me so well,” he pants, voice cracked, hair plastered to his forehead as his cock disappears again into your soaked heat. “I don’t—baby, I don’t think I can stop—”

You’re shaking, lips parted, moans spilling from your mouth with every snap of his hips. Every thrust feels like it knocks you higher. Every word he says pulls you closer to unraveling.

“So deep,” you gasp, “you’re so big—”

He growls at that — a low, primal sound — and wraps one arm around your belly, the other coming up to cradle your jaw.

“Turn around,” he murmurs into your ear, breath hot, voice trembling. “Let me see you.”

You do.

You turn.

You let him guide you, breathless and shaking, until your hands are clinging to his shoulders and his hands are on your waist again, lining you up.

And when he slides back inside you—this time face-to-face—your mouth falls open and your eyes flutter.

Because it’s deeper this way. Slower. Full.

“Oh my god—” you moan.

Sunghoon’s head drops to your shoulder. His hips roll. The stretch, the burn, the pressure of it—all of him inside you—makes your eyes fill.

“You’re warm,” he groans. “You’re so fucking warm, I feel like I’m inside the sun.”

You cry out softly when he thrusts again — long and deep, your body jolting with each motion.

“Look at me,” he whispers, lifting his head.

You do.

Your eyes meet.

And it’s like your whole body pulses under his gaze.

He looks at you like you’re sacred.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I fucking love you.”

You whimper, your hands sliding up to his face.

“I love you too.”

And he kisses you — hard, open-mouthed, moaning against your lips as he fucks you deeper, faster.

You feel everything.

His sweat-slicked chest pressing to yours.

The way his cock stretches you with every thrust, nudging that sweet spot over and over until your thighs start shaking.

His moans — God, the sounds he makes — raw, breathy, desperate.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he gasps. “So wet for me. You were made for me. This pussy was fucking made for me—”

You sob out a moan.

Your arms cling to his neck.

“Don’t stop—please, Sunghoon—don’t stop—”

“Never,” he growls. “I’ll fuck you through every lifetime if I have to. I’m not letting anyone else touch you—ever.”

He kisses your cheeks between thrusts.

Your forehead.

Your jaw.

“Pretty girl,” he breathes, “my pretty fucking nerd—fuck—you feel so good, I’m gonna die—”

You’re close. So close you can’t speak.

Your nails dig into his back.

“Come with me,” he pants, voice cracked. “Please, baby—come with me—need to feel you—need to feel it—”

You nod frantically, lips trembling, thighs quivering around his waist.

And then—

He thrusts up, hard, deep—

And your body breaks.

Your orgasm hits like a wave — shaking you, pulling a loud, high-pitched moan from your throat as you come around him, clenching and sobbing his name.

“Sunghoon—!”

And that’s it.

He loses it.

His hips stutter, a groan tearing from his chest, and he buries himself to the hilt—

“F-fuckfuckfuck—I’m coming—”

—before he spills inside you, cock twitching, moaning brokenly into your neck as he fills you with heat.

“God—I love you—I love you—I love you—”

You’re both trembling.

You hold each other like you’re afraid you’ll fall apart.

His forehead is against yours, eyes dazed, lips twitching with every aftershock.

You press your nose to his cheek.

“That felt so good…”

He laughs. Breathless. Destroyed.

“You feel so good. Perfect.”

You kiss his lips.

He kisses your eyelids.

And you both just stand there, full of each other, hearts racing, sweat-damp skin pressed together in the silence.

He lets out a long, shaky breath.

“Can I…” he whispers, voice so quiet you almost miss it.

You blink up at him.

“What?”

He kisses your cheek. Your jaw. His hands still trembling on your waist.

“Fuck,” he whispers, breath caught in his throat. “I wanna be your husband.”

You freeze.

He’s staring at you like it hurts — like loving you is something sacred and unbearable all at once.

“I wanna wake up next to you every day,” he says, chest heaving. “I wanna take you out on dates and come home to you and kiss you when you’re reading those stupid smutty books and tell you you’re mine and—” His voice cracks. “Please, can I be your boyfriend? Can I please be yours?”

Your lips part. Your eyes sting.

Because there’s no hesitation. No pride. Just pure, open, aching love.

You press your forehead to his.

“You already are.”

_______

You don’t know how long you stayed in that tiny supply room.

Minutes. Hours. Days. Maybe an entire season passed while you curled against Sunghoon’s chest, legs tangled, his fingers brushing through your hair like it was the only thing that could keep his heart beating.

But eventually?

You moved.

Together.

Still clinging. Still flushed. Still smiling so hard it hurt.

And now—walking hand in hand down the hallway, your cheeks glowing, his eyes never leaving your face—you feel it.

Everyone sees it.

The shift.

The transformation from “he teases her” to he’d burn the planet down if she frowned.

⸻

You reach the study lounge before he does—mostly because he keeps slowing down to steal glances at you.

“You’re glowing,” he murmurs, catching your hand again. “Like… actually glowing.”

“That’s just fluorescent lighting.”

“No,” he whispers, “that’s love, nerd.”

You roll your eyes but your cheeks flush warm anyway.

You push open the door to the lounge, expecting mild chaos. Maybe a stack of books. Maybe Sunoo on a beanbag with a bag of dried mangoes.

What you don’t expect—

Is everyone there.

Sunoo. Yunjin. Jake. Eunchae. The new guy.

And all of them stop what they’re doing when you walk in—with Sunghoon trailing behind, his hand tightly laced in yours, his hoodie now hanging off your shoulders.

There’s a pause.

A full-body, brain-short-circuiting silence.

And then—

“HOLY SHIT,” Sunoo shrieks, leaping off the couch. “WHAT DID I MISS?!”

“Oh my god,” Yunjin gapes, blinking. “Did you guys—wait—is that his hoodie?!”

You smile, sheepish, tightening your grip on Sunghoon’s hand.

He’s smiling too. Softly. Proudly. Like you’re something he earned and treasures.

Jake drops his pen.

“Bro. You’re holding hands. And not like, haha we tripped into each other—like… real people. In love.”

“We are real people in love,” Sunghoon says, without even flinching.

You choke on your own breath.

Sunoo clutches his chest.

“They admitted it. Oh my god. This is it. True love is real.”

Eunchae claps dramatically.

Yunjin still looks like she’s processing.

Meanwhile, the new guy—Theo, the one Sunghoon had previously nearly burst a vein over—just tilts his head, expression amused.

“Well, this is interesting.”

Sunghoon narrows his eyes.

You squeeze his hand.

“Be nice,” you whisper.

Yunjin grabs her drink, sips from the straw, and leans dramatically against the couch arm.

“Okay, Mr. Flirt,” she says, turning to Theo. “Just so you know? She’s taken. So maybe back off a little.”

Theo pauses.

Raises a brow.

Then lets out the most obnoxiously perfect little laugh.

“Honey,” he says, crossing one leg over the other, “I’m gay.”

The entire room stares.

You blink.

Sunghoon blinks.

Yunjin sputters.

“WHAT?!”

Theo shrugs, reaching for his iced coffee.

“You thought I was flirting? No, babe. I was trying to figure out if her skin routine was CeraVe or sorcery.”

Sunghoon looks like he just lost a ten-year war.

You squeeze his hand tighter.

Yunjin literally facepalms.

“God,” she groans, “I accused a gay man of trying to steal someone’s girlfriend. I need to go home and rethink my entire personality.”

“Too late,” Sunoo chirps. “You’re stuck here with us.”

“Help,” she mutters.

Jake finally speaks.

“Wait—” he blinks. “So this whole thing—like, you two—like, you’re official now?”

Sunghoon doesn’t even hesitate.

He lets go of your hand—just to wrap his arm fully around your waist, pull you close, and kiss the side of your head.

“She’s mine,” he says, voice steady. “And I’m hers.”

“We’re dating,” you add, shy but glowing. “Like… real dating.”

Sunoo sniffs, dramatically dabbing his eyes with a napkin.

“They grow up so fast.”

Eunchae reaches over and rubs his back solemnly.

⸻

Later, you’re curled up on the couch.

Sunghoon’s head in your lap.

Your fingers in his hair.

Everyone’s talking over each other. Sunoo and Theo are now in a full-blown discussion about skincare acids. Jake is writing something down with an expression that suggests he just discovered love exists. Yunjin is still grumbling into her coffee.

And you?

You’re looking down at the boy who used to call you nerd like it was a curse.

Now?

He says it like it’s your name.

“Hey,” he whispers, tilting his head so he can see you better. “Can I tell you something?”

You nod.

“I used to think I liked teasing you,” he says, fingers tracing lazy circles on your knee. “But now I know I was just trying not to fall in love too fast.”

Your throat tightens.

“Sunghoon…”

“Too late though,” he adds, lips curving. “I’m gone for you. Fully. There’s no coming back.”

You smile, your hand smoothing over his hair.

“Good,” you whisper. “Because I love you too.”

⸻

And as the others argue, laugh, tease, and throw popcorn…

You and Sunghoon sit there, wrapped in each other.

No more walls.

No more teasing.

Just a nerd and her menace — completely and irreversibly in love.

And he exhales like he’s finally breathing for the first time.

____________

NERD, INTERRUPTED IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED THANK YOU SM FOR READING PLS COMMENT AND REBLOG HEHEH

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- Nerd, Interrupted -

enhypen masterlist part 2

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down bad!bully!park sunghoon x nerd!reader | enemies-to-lovers | teasing → in love | slow burn | rom-com with emotional depth | size difference | mutual pining | filthy smut| shy but smart reader | possessive, whipped male lead |

summary: You’re a shy, pretty, and inexperienced nerd with a habit of reading smut and wearing skirts a little too short for your own safety. Sunghoon, the tall boy who won’t leave you alone, bullies you — but only because he’s completely in love. What starts as teasing slowly burns into something deeper and more dangerous. You were never clueless. He was never playing. And once your thigh highs come out… so does the truth.

warning: sexual tension, explicit smut, degradation kink, praise kink, non-harmful bully x nerd dynamics, obsessive behavior, voyeuristic undertones, emotional vulnerability, inexperience themes, filthy language during smut, possessive male lead.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

You always sit in the same spot.

Far left corner. Second floor. Behind the dusty encyclopedia shelves no one touches anymore.

You have your own little universe up here: a corner chair with a sun-warmed armrest, a power socket you guard with your life, and your annotated copy of Modern Chemistry: Foundations and Applications resting in your lap, pages marked with violet flags and smudged with highlighter. Your dark lipstick is freshly applied, a glassy wine-red sheen against your otherwise plain, focused expression. You’re the kind of girl that makes people nervous — pretty, but quiet. Reserved. Always looking like you’re about to ace the exam you didn’t even know was happening.

It’s not that you like being alone. You’ve just learned how to be very good at it.

But peace is a fragile thing.

Especially when Park Sunghoon finds it amusing to ruin yours.

“Wow.” His voice drops behind you, a smooth mix of mock surprise and low amusement. “Didn’t think nerds came in high definition.”

You don’t jump. But your fingers tighten around your pen.

He leans against the bookshelf beside you — tall, broad, arms crossed like he owns the place. Which, socially speaking, he kind of does. He’s one of those boys: the effortless popular kind, sharp jaw, smug smirk, and a voice you hate how well you recognize. Every word he says to you is laced with that same I-know-I’m-hot venom that makes your chest buzz in a way you can’t stand.

“Let me guess.” He nudges your book with the tip of his knuckle, voice dripping with mockery. “Reading ahead for a test no one cares about?”

You keep your eyes on the page. “I care.”

“Aww.” He drops into the chair beside you like he has any right to. His leg knocks into yours — long, warm, uninvited. You freeze. “That’s cute.”

You stare at your book harder. You don’t respond. You know how this goes. The moment you give him attention, he triples the chaos. He’s not a traditional bully — he doesn’t push you into lockers or throw things at you. But what he does do is worse: he whispers things in class to make you blush, calls you Professor Tits behind your back loud enough that it echoes, and steals your pens only to leave them on your desk the next day with hearts drawn on them in black sharpie.

And now? He’s in your library chair. With his freakishly long legs brushing yours every time he shifts.

You tuck your skirt more tightly around your thighs.

Sunghoon notices.

“Mm.” He hums, eyes glinting as he tilts his head. “You always wear those skirts, huh? No shame for a nerd.”

You snap your gaze up.

He grins at your flushed expression. He’s so tall, even while slouching, his frame dwarfing the little space between you. You hate how your stomach turns, not with fear — but something stupid and fluttery and hormonal.

“I’m not ashamed,” you mumble.

“Oh, I know,” he teases. “You love attention. Don’t pretend you don’t. Always sitting like that, all innocent, pretending you’re just here to study when you know every guy in the building wants to bend you over that desk.”

You gasp, scandalized — cheeks burning. “Sunghoon—!”

“What?” He says your name like it’s a joke. “Am I wrong?”

You try to push your chair back, but he stops you — one long leg swinging casually over yours, boxing you in.

“Relax.” His voice softens. Too close. Too smug. “You’re just fun to mess with. You make the best faces.”

“Go away.”

“Make me.”

You narrow your eyes, lips parted in disbelief. “You’re such a child.”

He leans in a little — face tilting down to meet your height, his mouth just slightly crooked.

“And you’re such a virgin.”

Your brain short-circuits.

He doesn’t say it like an insult. He says it like he knows — like he’s been thinking about it. A lot.

“I—” You stammer, but nothing coherent comes out.

Sunghoon watches you fumble with your pen, your breath catching, your hands trembling slightly, and something shifts in his face. He looks… satisfied. Like he’s won something. Not the conversation, but something deeper. Something that sinks into your skin and makes your heart race.

“I’m right,” he says lowly.

You want to slap him. You want to vanish. You want to throw him off the building. But most of all, you want to understand why your heart is hammering in your ears like this. Why your thighs are clenched and your mouth is dry and your brain is filled with the memory of the way he looked at you just now — like you were some kind of puzzle he’s dying to tear apart.

Instead, you grab your bag.

“I’m going to class.”

“Class isn’t for twenty minutes.”

You shoot him a glare. “I need to study.”

He lets you go. Doesn’t stop you. But his eyes trail down your legs — slow, lingering — and when you walk away, you feel his gaze, thick and unrelenting.

⸻

Elsewhere on campus, your best friend Yunjin is waiting under the shade tree by the courtyard steps, arms folded and eyebrows raised.

“You have that face again.”

You adjust your bag. “What face?”

“The Sunghoon harassed me again but I don’t want to admit it made my stomach flutter face.”

You sputter. “That is not a real face.”

“It is when you wear it every day.”

You groan and flop beside her. Jake walks by with a protein bar in his mouth, shooting you both a casual nod. Sunoo is sitting backwards in a chair nearby, eavesdropping like it’s his job.

“Did he quote one of your smut books again?” Sunoo asks.

You freeze.

Yunjin leans forward, scandalized. “Wait, did he?”

You bite your lip. “…He might have.”

Sunoo squeals. “Girl, you need to stop reading those in public. That man is waiting for you to drop a page so he can sniff it.”

“He’s just an asshole,” you grumble.

“He’s a hot asshole,” Yunjin corrects.

“I don’t care.”

They both snort. Because they know you care. You just won’t admit it.

And neither will he.

Not yet.

_________

It starts as a normal day.

As normal as it can be, anyway, when you wake up with your heart already pounding from a dream you don’t want to talk about. Not even to yourself. Not even to your pillow.

It was about him again.

Not that anything happened. Not really. Just flashes — long legs brushing yours under the library desk. That smug mouth curling as he whispered something filthy in your ear. The heat of his hand almost, almost resting on your knee. The dream didn’t even go further than that. It didn’t need to. You woke up hot and bothered, thighs pressed together, breath coming in short little bursts like a broken whisper.

You hate that he gets under your skin like this. Sunghoon. The tall, annoying, gorgeous bane of your academic existence. You hate his jokes. His smirks. His stupid boy perfume that lingers behind every time he walks past your locker.

And you especially hate that the dreams started around the same time he found out you read romance novels.

You’d been so careful. You read on your tablet in class, the screen tinted to look like a textbook. You marked your place with clean little sticky notes that matched the color scheme of your physics binder. You never highlighted the dirty lines.

But last week, somehow, he found one of your paperbacks in your bag. It was just sitting there when you returned from the bathroom, pages slightly open, your highlighter tucked inside.

He hadn’t said anything then. Just raised his brows at you like he’d unlocked a cheat code.

You’d prayed he forgot.

He did not forget.

⸻

The next day, after class—

You’re minding your own business in the campus courtyard, tucked under a tree with a book in your lap — a different one this time. Something safer. Something classic. Jane Eyre. Which, to be fair, still has some intense longing scenes, but at least it doesn’t have phrases like “his tongue mapped the inside of her soul”.

You turn a page, ink-smudged fingers tucked under your chin, knees drawn up under your skirt — when a shadow falls over you.

“Didn’t peg you for a Brontë girl,” a voice drawls.

You close your eyes. Breathe in. Try to remain calm.

“Go away, Sunghoon.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, he drops down beside you on the grass, legs sprawled out carelessly, like this patch of campus is his kingdom. His uniform is slightly rumpled — tie loosened, sleeves pushed up to reveal tan forearms that look entirely too smug for a Tuesday.

“What, no sexy warlocks today?” he teases, eyeing the cover. “No vampires with six-packs? No ‘his length twitched at the sight of her’? Or did you leave that one in your bra again?”

Your entire soul exits your body.

“You went through my bag?”

“You left it wide open,” he shrugs. “I was doing you a favor. What if someone else found out you read fanfic with plot?”

You slam the book shut, face burning. “It’s not fanfic.”

He leans closer. “So you admit you read it.”

“Sunghoon,” you say warningly.

He reaches out and tugs your book away, ignoring your gasp. You lunge to grab it, but he’s holding it way above your reach. Which is criminal, really. Freakishly tall bastard.

You scramble to your knees, trying to claw it back. “Give it!”

“Nope.” He grins, flipping through the pages. “Let’s see where Professor Tits left off…”

You gasp. “Don’t call me that!”

He flips to a bookmarked page and clears his throat.

“‘She whimpered as he pinned her hands above her head, his mouth devouring her neck with possessive hunger, whispering filth into her ear she’d never heard before.’”

Your entire soul evaporates into steam.

“SUNGHOO—”

“‘Her skirt bunched around her hips—’” he reads, eyes flicking to your actual skirt for one shameless second, “—‘his hands branding her skin like fire.’”

You lunge for him, tackling him in the grass, trying to snatch the book back with a strangled yell. But he’s stronger than you. And obnoxiously amused. You’re half on top of him now, your hands clawing at the spine while he just laughs, breath warm against your cheek as he reads:

“‘Please,’ she begged, ‘I can’t—’”

“‘You will,’ he growled—’”

You yank the book from his grip, flush a shade of crimson not even found in nature, and scramble back into your spot, face hidden behind your knees.

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbows, still lying in the grass, watching you with a boyish smirk.

“You know,” he says lazily, “you don’t need a book for that kind of thing.”

You slowly peek at him through your fingers. “What?”

He shrugs, lashes low over those sharp eyes. “Someone like you? Pretty. Shy. Always sitting with your legs crossed like a good little girl. You don’t think some guy’s dying to—”

“Stop talking.”

He sits up, amused. “Why? I thought you liked dirty talk. You highlight the good parts.”

You fling a leaf at him.

Sunghoon dodges it with ease, smirk growing. “You’re lucky I like nerds.”

“No, I’m lucky you have no shame.”

He clutches his chest like he’s wounded. “Ouch.”

You glare at him, trying not to laugh. Trying.

He pushes up from the grass with an easy, languid stretch, the hem of his shirt lifting just enough for you to catch a glimpse of sharp hip bones. You look away instantly. Too late.

He notices.

“See you tomorrow, Professor.”

You don’t answer.

You just flip open your book again — to a very different page — and pretend he didn’t just make your thighs ache for reasons you’ll never say out loud.

⸻

Later that evening—

You’re studying with Yunjin and Sunoo in your room. The usual setup: flashcards, open laptops, snacks you’ll regret, and Yunjin’s playlist of girl group bangers in the background.

“He read your book?” Yunjin shrieks.

Sunoo nearly chokes on a gummy worm. “Out loud? In public?! Oh, he wants you. He wants you so bad it’s illegal.”

You groan into your pillow.

“It’s not like that,” you mumble.

Yunjin snorts. “Babe, he has a whole sexual harassment arc planned out in his head. The slow burn? The enemies to lovers? He’s living your smut fantasy.”

“He’s annoying.”

“He’s obsessed.”

Sunoo hums. “You should ask yourself why you’re not, like, really mad about it.”

You go quiet.

Because that’s the problem. You should be mad. You should hate how he always corners you, always flusters you, always finds the one button to press and presses it until you break.

But a small, stupid part of you…

Wants him to keep pushing.

_______

It starts with your name on the projector.

Not in a good way.

You’re sitting front row, highlighter poised, when your chemistry professor clears her throat and says, “Alright, we’re pairing off for the next lab cycle. Each of you will work with your designated partner for the next two weeks. Names are on the board. No switches.”

Your eyes flick up.

You scan the list. Fast. Already mentally preparing to work with someone quiet, maybe even someone you can control a little — because group work, for you, is like handing a toddler your thesis.

Then you see it.

Your name.

Next to his.

Y/N L/N × Park Sunghoon

Your soul leaves your body.

You blink once. Twice.

Surely there’s been a mistake. The universe wouldn’t be this cruel. You’ve done nothing to deserve this. You recycle. You use turn signals. You highlight with restraint.

But there it is. Burning bright on the projector like a death sentence.

You barely hear the professor’s next sentence. Something about goggles. Safety. Don’t blow up the lab. Whatever.

Because behind you, a voice says low and delighted:

“Well, well, well. Look who finally has to play nice.”

You squeeze your pen so hard the cap snaps.

⸻

Ten minutes later, at your lab table—

Sunghoon strolls over like he’s auditioning for a fragrance commercial. He smells like clean soap and something boyish and warm that makes your stomach do inappropriate things. His lab coat is open, his ID badge hanging crookedly from the collar, and he leans on the counter with both arms like it’s his personal modeling platform.

You pretend to be invested in the periodic table.

“Don’t worry, nerd,” he murmurs, dipping close. “I’m great with chemistry.”

You grit your teeth. “Don’t touch anything.”

He grins. “Yes, Professor.”

You hate him. You hate him.

Mostly because he’s so tall that he has to bend way down to look you in the eye. And when he does, your whole body reacts like it’s being dragged across a live wire.

“I mean it,” you say, elbowing him lightly. “This is my GPA. Don’t ruin it.”

He leans in even closer — just enough to make your breath catch.

“Would never ruin you,” he murmurs, too soft, too intimate.

Your heart stutters.

You look at him. He’s not smiling now. Not really. His expression is unreadable — some strange mix of amusement and something heavier, darker. Something… unfamiliar.

You shove the reaction away.

“I’ll take the measurements,” you say quickly, pulling the graduated cylinder toward you. “You just… don’t get in the way.”

“Whatever you say,” he drawls, shifting behind you.

And then he’s right there — standing behind your shoulder as you pour, his body heat brushing yours, his breath disturbingly close to your ear.

You fumble.

A few drops spill over the edge of the cylinder.

“Careful, nerd,” he says. “You’re trembling.”

You are. Just slightly. But it’s not because you’re scared. It’s because his voice is low and thick and way too close, and his chest brushes your back when he leans forward to glance at the beaker.

And because for some reason…

You don’t move away.

⸻

Half an hour later—

The lab smells like antiseptic, alcohol, and the faint tang of lemon cleaner. The experiment is simple: titration. Measure. Pour. Record. Repeat.

And yet somehow, this is the hardest hour of your life.

Because Sunghoon won’t. Stop. Hovering.

Every time you shift, he shifts too — close enough that his thigh bumps yours, his arm brushes your elbow, his breath tickles your neck.

And every time you ask him to “stop doing that,” he just says “doing what?” in the smuggest voice known to man.

It’s a miracle you haven’t broken a glass.

“Write down the value,” you mumble, pushing the log sheet toward him.

He leans over, his shoulder nudging yours, pen scrawling across the paper in lazy, cocky handwriting.

You try to ignore how broad his chest is. How his fingers are ink-stained and long and stupidly hot. How your knees are practically touching now.

And then he drops the pen.

Right between your feet.

You freeze.

He crouches, slowly, almost dramatically — his head disappearing under the desk as he reaches for it. And when he rises back up, something shifts. His eyes. His smirk. His voice.

“Nice panties.”

You whip around, eyes wide.

“What?!”

He smiles. “Lace, huh? Classy.”

You want the ground to eat you alive.

“I’m—” You stutter, mortified. “I’m wearing shorts under my skirt!”

“Sure you are.” He grins, tossing the pen onto the desk. “Didn’t say I saw skin. Just said I liked the color.”

You die inside.

He chuckles, picking up your notes.

“And here I thought you were innocent.”

You blink. Your voice is quiet now. Honest. “I am.”

He glances at you. Stops.

For one beat, he doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease. Just looks at you.

You expect him to make fun of you. But he doesn’t.

He just says, quieter than before: “…Yeah. I know.”

And then the teasing glint returns.

“But I bet your books aren’t.”

You groan, shoving your face into your arm.

Sunghoon laughs — really laughs — the sound of it echoing off the sterile walls like sunshine cracking through the ceiling. You kind of hate that it sounds good. You kind of hate that it makes you want to laugh.

But most of all…

You hate that your hand is still tingling from when his accidentally brushed yours.

⸻

After class—

Jake is waiting for you outside the science building.

“You okay?” he asks, eyes flicking over your flushed face.

You nod too fast. “Fine. Lab stuff.”

“Did he mess with you?”

You hesitate. “Not really. Just being… him.”

Jake narrows his eyes. “You sure?”

You nod again. “Yeah.”

He walks you to the café without another word.

But behind you, across the lawn, Sunghoon is leaning against the stair rail. His hands are in his pockets. His hair is messy. His smirk is gone.

He’s watching you.

And he doesn’t look amused anymore.

____________

Your locker is always clean.

Not obsessively, but neatly — like everything in your life, it’s arranged to keep people out. Pencil cases stacked by color. Books lined up in subject order. A lavender air freshener clipped to the top shelf. Even your emergency snacks are sealed in Ziploc bags, labeled with sticky notes like Don’t Touch (Yunjin) and Mine (Still Yunjin, don’t lie).

You don’t trust easily.

You especially don’t trust people like Sunghoon.

Which is why the moment you see your locker door slightly ajar after third period, your stomach drops like a stone.

You stop walking.

Yunjin keeps going — then pauses and doubles back, noticing your frozen stance.

“What’s wrong?”

You don’t answer. You just reach out and pull your locker open.

The inside looks… the same. Sort of.

But your notebook — your private notebook — the one you use for doodles and little diary entries and the occasional steamy paragraph you don’t want to admit you wrote — it’s not where it should be. It’s not under your folders. It’s not behind your lab manual.

You blink once. Twice.

Panic prickles under your skin.

“Oh no,” you whisper.

Yunjin leans over. “Wait—what’s missing?”

You don’t answer.

Because that’s the thing. You know what’s missing. You just don’t want to say it out loud.

⸻

Two hours later—

You find him in the art wing.

Sunghoon’s sitting alone in the back row of the photography lab, long legs stretched under the desk, flipping through something that definitely doesn’t belong to him.

Your notebook.

Your fucking notebook.

You march in before you even think it through, yanking it from his hands so fast he lets out a low, surprised laugh.

“Easy, nerd. Might tear a page.”

You hold it to your chest, face burning. “You broke into my locker?”

“Wasn’t locked.”

“That’s not the point!”

He tilts his head, annoyingly calm. “You dropped your schedule the other day. I figured you’d come here to yell.”

You gape. “You planned this?”

He shrugs.

“I—what the hell is wrong with you?” Your voice is high now, trembling with embarrassment. “That’s private, Sunghoon. That’s my notebook. There’s—there’s—”

“Scenes?” he says casually. “Plots? A character who definitely isn’t based on me?”

You freeze.

Oh no.

He read that part.

The scene you wrote during math last week. The one you swore you’d delete. The one where a tall, smug male lead corners the innocent bookworm in the school stairwell and says something along the lines of “Tell me how many times you touched yourself thinking about me.”

Your soul detonates.

“You weren’t supposed to see that—”

He stands.

Slowly. Deliberately.

You instinctively take a step back. He doesn’t touch you — doesn’t have to. He just moves into your space with the kind of lazy confidence that should be illegal.

“So you have thought about me,” he says, eyes dark and unreadable.

You clutch the notebook tighter. “That was fiction.”

He smirks. “Was it?”

“Obviously,” you snap. “You’re not even nice to me!”

He tilts his head. “You think I’d be nice if I got you alone?”

Your throat tightens.

You hate him. You hate that he has this effect on you. That you’re still standing here. That your fingers are shaking. That you want to kiss him just to shut him up.

“I’m not… I don’t…” You swallow hard. “I don’t do stuff like that.”

He studies you.

Not like he’s judging you — but like he’s learning you. Filing away every detail.

“I know.”

You blink.

“I know you don’t,” he says again, this time softer. “You blush when someone touches your hand. You flinch when someone calls you pretty. You get scared when people ask if you’ve dated. I know.”

Your breath catches.

And for a second — a split second — you think he might say something real. Something honest. Something that would shatter the stupid rhythm of your days.

But then his smirk returns.

He steps back. “But you write like someone who wants to.”

You burn.

He walks out.

You stand alone, clutching your notebook, your heart pounding in your throat.

⸻

Later that night—

Yunjin and Sunoo are sitting on your bed, watching you pace.

“He read it?” Sunoo gasps. “Like really read it?”

You nod, dying slowly.

“And then quoted it back to you?”

You nod again, collapsing into your blanket.

Yunjin’s jaw is on the floor. “Babe. That is not normal bully behavior.”

Sunoo raises a brow. “That’s ‘I have a secret folder of pictures of you’ behavior.”

You bury your face in a pillow. “I want to vanish.”

“But like,” Yunjin leans closer, “was he mean about it?”

You hesitate.

“No,” you admit. “Just… smug.”

“So,” Sunoo concludes. “He’s into it.”

“I’m going to die.”

Yunjin hums. “No, babe. You’re going to wear a short skirt next week and finish him off.”

You laugh — just a little.

Because you’re not ready for that.

Not yet.

But soon?

Maybe.

_________

The day you wear the short skirt is just a regular Thursday.

At least for you.

You didn’t mean to cause anything. You didn’t plan a thing. You’re wearing the same style of outfit you always do — a black pleated skirt, mid-thigh, soft cotton; thigh-high socks with lace trim; and a fitted cardigan buttoned up to your collarbone. Hair tied with a little black ribbon. Gloss dark and shiny. You’re still you.

Just a little cuter than usual.

Maybe you were tired of blending in. Maybe you needed a confidence boost. Or maybe you just liked how the outfit made you feel — pretty, in a way that was yours and yours alone.

You walk into the library, as always, twenty minutes before your study group meets. You take the back corner chair again. You plug in your tablet. You open your book.

Everything is normal.

Until you hear the scrape of a chair behind you.

You don’t even have to turn around.

“…Sunghoon.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

You glance back.

He’s standing just far enough to look casual. But something’s… different.

His expression is unreadable. His usual smirk? Gone. In its place is something still. Quiet. Controlled.

Too controlled.

You tilt your head. “What?”

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, his eyes drift — deliberately — down your legs. Your skirt. The sliver of bare skin between your thigh-highs and the hem of the fabric.

And they stay there.

For a second too long.

You shift uncomfortably, crossing your legs. “What?”

Still, he doesn’t speak. He just exhales — slow, quiet, a sound that barely escapes his chest — and then he drops into the seat beside you.

But this time, he doesn’t sprawl like usual. Doesn’t lean in close to tease. Doesn’t say anything at all.

You peek at him.

His jaw is tight.

His fingers are tapping once, twice, then curling into his palm like he needs to stop.

You blink.

“You okay?”

Sunghoon turns slowly to look at you. Eyes heavy. Face unreadable.

“You wore that on purpose.”

Your breath hitches. “Excuse me?”

“That skirt.” His voice is low. “Those socks.”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie.”

You sit straighter. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

The intensity in his voice makes you shiver.

“Sunghoon, I dress like this all the time.”

“Not like this.”

You stare at him.

He looks… wrecked.

His fingers twitch on his thigh. His knee bounces. His teeth grind against the inside of his cheek like he’s fighting a war with himself.

“You’re acting crazy,” you whisper.

He laughs. But it’s not funny. It’s hollow. Pained.

“Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

You feel your cheeks go hot.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know you didn’t,” he snaps. Then softer, more raw: “That’s the worst part.”

You blink, startled.

He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. His voice comes quieter now, not directed at you — more like a confession to the floor.

“I’ve spent months trying not to touch you. Not to lose it. I thought it was funny at first — teasing the nerd. Getting a reaction. Watching you get all shy and breathless.”

Your throat tightens.

“But then I started wondering what your lips tasted like. Wondering if you’d cry if I kissed you. Wondering if you’d let me ruin you if I was just a little nicer.”

You don’t move.

“I’d close my eyes and see you. Skirts riding up. Little notes with hearts. The way you lick your gloss off when you’re thinking.”

He laughs again — a sharp, miserable thing.

“I thought I was just horny. I thought it would pass.”

You swallow. “And did it?”

He looks at you.

And the look in his eyes answers the question before he even speaks.

“No.”

Your breath catches.

“I’m obsessed with you,” he says softly. “I think about you all the time. In class. In the shower. In my fucking sleep. I can’t stop.”

You feel like the world has tilted.

“I didn’t mean to make you—”

He cuts you off, sharp. “Don’t apologize.”

Silence settles between you like ash.

You’re not sure what to do. What to say. You’re still the shy girl. Still inexperienced. Still figuring out what it means when someone looks at you like they want to set the world on fire just to keep you warm.

And Sunghoon?

He’s not teasing anymore.

He’s unraveling.

“You should go,” he mutters suddenly, standing too fast. “Before I do something I won’t come back from.”

“Like what?”

He looks down at you.

And for the first time in weeks — maybe months — he looks scared.

“Like fall in love with you.”

_________

It starts with silence.

You don’t see him for two days.

Not in the hallway. Not in class. Not even during free period when he usually appears behind you like a bad idea dressed in perfect skin.

Just—nothing.

At first, you tell yourself it’s a relief.

You can finally think straight. Finally read without blushing. Finally open your locker without wondering if something’s missing — or added. You tell yourself it’s better this way. Clean. Quiet.

You almost believe it.

Until the third day.

⸻

Thursday. Late afternoon.

You’re walking down the old north stairwell — the one behind the drama wing, tucked between forgotten bulletin boards and scratched-up banisters. You only ever use it when you want to avoid crowds. It’s usually silent. Deserted.

Today, it isn’t.

Because at the bottom of the landing — leaning against the railing like he’s been waiting for hours — is Sunghoon.

He doesn’t look smug.

He looks like he hasn’t slept.

Hair a mess. Tie loose. One hand in his pocket, the other gripping the stair rail like it’s the only thing anchoring him to this hallway.

Your stomach flips.

You slow down. Carefully. Eyes locked on his.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you say, trying to keep your voice level.

His jaw clenches. “I had to.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer.

You descend the last few steps — slow, cautious. The moment you reach the bottom, he straightens up.

And then — very quietly — he says:

“You wore those socks again.”

Your breath catches.

He takes a step toward you. Then another.

You don’t move. Can’t.

“They drive me fucking crazy,” he murmurs.

Your back hits the wall. He’s close now. Not touching you, but there — his heat pressing into your space, eyes low and dark and dangerous in a way that isn’t scary, but devastating.

“I asked myself why you’d wear them again,” he says, tilting his head. “If you meant to.”

“I didn’t.”

“Didn’t you?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Didn’t you want me to lose control a little?”

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.

He leans in.

“You think I don’t notice every little thing about you? The way your thighs squeeze when I sit too close. The way you flinch when I say something dirty but never really tell me to stop.”

Your legs tremble.

“I don’t mean to—”

“Yes, you do.” His voice is low and raw. “And that’s what kills me. Because I want to ruin you so badly it hurts. But I know you’re not ready.”

His fingers lift. Hover. They don’t touch you. Just trace the air beside your cheek like he’s memorizing your shape.

“But you will be,” he whispers. “Soon.”

You shiver.

“You want to know what I did when you left the library the other day?”

Your eyes dart up to his.

He smiles — soft, broken, almost bitter.

“I went home and lost my mind.”

You swallow.

“I kept thinking about how your skirt slid up when you sat down. How the top of your sock curled right above your thigh like a fucking invitation.”

He’s breathing heavier now, close enough that your lashes flutter with each exhale.

“I locked my door,” he says. “Tore my belt open. And I came so hard thinking about the way you looked at me when I said I was in love with you.”

You gasp.

He grins — slow, dangerous.

“You thought I was lying?”

You can’t speak.

“You think this is just lust?” He laughs — dark and quiet. “No, baby. Lust would’ve faded. Lust wouldn’t make me go insane when another guy so much as looks at you.”

Your knees nearly give out.

“Sunghoon…”

“I’ve been trying to be good,” he breathes. “Trying to be patient. But every time I see you like this — pretty little skirt, those shy eyes, lips glossy like you want me to kiss you — I lose it a little more.”

His hand lifts again — and this time, he does touch you.

Just a finger under your chin.

He tilts your face up. Your pulse skitters.

“I’ve been waiting for the moment you ask me to stop.”

You don’t.

You just look up at him, trembling.

And he smiles like a man who’s finally found something holy.

“I knew it,” he whispers.

_________

You don’t go to class after that.

You sit in the old stairwell for ten full minutes after he leaves — heart in your throat, knees shaking, hand pressed against your chest like you can stop the echo of his voice still ringing in your bones.

“I came so hard thinking about the way you looked at me…”

“You think this is just lust?”

“I’ve been trying to be good.”

You can’t breathe.

Not because you’re scared — but because every single thing he said was real. And it’s the realness that messes you up.

You thought he just liked teasing. That maybe he thought you were hot in a condescending, look-at-the-nerd-with-nice-legs kind of way. But this? This was deeper. Unfiltered. Borderline feral.

And underneath all that hunger…

You saw something else.

Worship.

⸻

The next day

You sit at your desk in homeroom, trying to focus on your notes.

You fail.

Mostly because Sunghoon hasn’t looked at you once. Not even when he walked in. Not even when your pen fell to the floor and you reached down to grab it, thigh-highs on display like a death sentence.

He’s silent. Still.

Too still.

You glance over.

He’s doodling on his paper — eyes dark, jaw clenched, hair falling into his lashes. You almost think he doesn’t care anymore. Until he shifts just slightly and you see it.

His hands.

Fists.

Trembling.

He’s not calm. He’s trying to stay calm.

You bite your lip.

And then you do something that surprises even you.

You write something on your sticky note.

Just a few words. Neat handwriting. One line.

“What would you do if I said I don’t want you to be good anymore?”

You slide it across the desk.

He reads it.

Still doesn’t look at you.

But his chest moves — sharp and sudden, like someone just punched the air out of him.

You wait.

One beat. Two.

Then he writes something back and slides it to you.

“I’d ask if you meant it.”

You stare at the words.

Then — heart pounding — you scribble your reply:

“I don’t write things I don’t mean.”

When he reads that, he closes his eyes.

Like he’s praying.

Or begging himself not to get up and ruin you in the middle of class.

⸻

Later that day—

You’re in the hallway after seventh period when it happens.

You’re walking to your locker. Yunjin and Sunoo are behind you, bickering over something dumb — whether Sana from class C has extensions or not — when a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you behind the science building.

You gasp.

“Sunghoon?!”

He doesn’t say anything at first.

He just cages you against the wall, breath shaky, hands gripping the bricks beside your head.

“You really meant it?” he asks, voice wrecked.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I meant it.”

“Say you want me.”

Your eyes flutter shut.

“I want you.”

He exhales — like he’s been holding that breath for weeks.

“You have no idea what that does to me,” he whispers.

“Then tell me.”

He blinks.

You tilt your head. “You act like I’m the only one losing my mind. But you’re the one jerking off to the way I looked at you. You’re the one memorizing my skirts. You’re the one quoting my fake smut like it’s a Bible.”

He lets out a short laugh — half turned on, half stunned.

You step closer.

Braver now. Still nervous, still innocent, but not fragile.

“I’m not as clueless as you think,” you whisper. “I just didn’t know you liked me that much.”

He stares at you. Really stares.

And then he says it.

The one thing that makes your entire body flush with heat and something dangerously close to affection.

“I’ve liked you since the day you corrected the teacher and didn’t even realize you were being a show-off.”

Your lips part.

Sunghoon leans in.

“Since the day you wore that tight black sweater and glared at me for calling you ’Professor Tits.’”

You choke.

“And every day since,” he breathes. “Even the days I hated myself for it.”

Silence.

You meet his eyes.

There’s a weight to them now. Not just lust. Not just teasing.

Longing.

You don’t kiss him.

Not yet.

But you step close enough that your chest brushes his — that he feels the way you tremble.

“Then stop hating yourself,” you say quietly.

“Because I’m starting to think I’ve liked you this whole time too.”

_______

It’s past sunset when it happens.

The campus library is nearly empty — just the buzz of overhead lights and the soft click of a librarian’s keyboard echoing in the silence. You sit alone in your usual corner, tucked beneath the frosted glass window, your fingers curled tightly around the edge of your book.

You’re not reading it.

You haven’t turned a page in the last ten minutes.

Your heart’s too loud.

Because you know he’s coming.

You texted him two words: “Come here.”

And he answered with only one: “Okay.”

You didn’t know what would happen. You didn’t plan it. But now you’re sitting in the spot where he first called you “Professor,” wearing that same gloss on your lips and a soft black cardigan that buttons at the top and opens just enough at the bottom to tease the shape of your skirt.

You hear the footsteps before you see him.

Sharp. Measured. Deliberate.

And then Sunghoon rounds the corner — all long legs and loose sleeves and unreadable eyes. His hair is still messy. His tie is gone. His mouth is set in a line that betrays none of the fire you saw in him before.

He stops in front of your table.

Doesn’t sit. Doesn’t speak.

You stare up at him.

The silence feels like it stretches forever.

Then you ask, barely a whisper:

“…Are you going to kiss me?”

His jaw ticks.

“I shouldn’t.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He doesn’t answer.

Just walks around the table. Slowly. Carefully. Like a hunter circling prey he doesn’t want to startle.

You turn in your chair to face him.

Your knees touch his thighs.

Your breath trembles.

Sunghoon lowers to his knees in front of you — not teasing, not dramatic. Just soft. Grounded. Like he’s doing something sacred.

You stare at him.

He stares back.

His fingers come up — tentative — and hover near your cheek, barely brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You lean into it.

That’s all he needs.

He leans in slowly, one hand still cradling your jaw, the other braced on your thigh like an anchor.

And when he kisses you — finally, finally — it’s nothing like what you expected.

It’s not wild. Not fast. Not filthy.

It’s gentle.

His lips press to yours like a secret. Like a question. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he kisses too hard.

You melt.

Your hands curl into his sleeves, your mouth parting instinctively. He doesn’t take advantage. He just stays there — lips soft, breath warm, fingers trembling slightly against your jaw like he can’t believe he’s allowed to do this.

He pulls back. Just enough to speak.

His voice breaks.

“…Been dreaming of that.”

You open your eyes slowly.

“You’re shaking,” you whisper.

He lets out a breathless laugh. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“Baby, if I touch you the way I want to—”

You lean in.

“Then touch me.”

He exhales — like he’s been waiting for that.

________

His breath is already hot against your cheek when you whisper it—

“Then touch me.”

It breaks him.

Sunghoon’s hand trembles where it rests on your thigh, fingers flexing like he’s fighting the urge to grab, to grip, to mark. His other hand cradles your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip. You’re still sitting in the library chair, but he’s on his knees between your legs now, eye-level with your mouth, and something about the position—him below you, both of you breathless—makes your stomach twist.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispers.

“I do.”

His eyes search yours.

Still waiting for you to back out. Still waiting for this to be a dream.

And then you part your lips, slowly, dragging your tongue over your gloss and whisper:

“Touch me like you dream about it.”

His head drops—chin to chest, exhale rough and ragged, like he’s been holding it in for months. You feel his breath on your thigh and shiver.

When he looks up again, his eyes are gone—glassy, dark, the pupils blown wide with something between reverence and hunger.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

And then he’s kissing you again—harder now, no more hesitation.

His mouth devours yours, warm and slick and open, tongue stroking past your lips in a desperate, wet slide. His hand tightens on your thigh—really grabs now, fingers spreading wide, pulling your leg apart so he can fit closer between them.

You gasp into his mouth.

That sound—your sharp, high breath—makes him groan, low and filthy in the back of his throat like he’s starving.

“Keep making that noise,” he pants against your lips. “I swear to God—”

He kisses you again—sloppier this time, breath hotter, grip firmer.

Your fingers are buried in his hair now, tugging. He moans into your mouth when you do—moans, like it does something to him, like he likes it messy, likes being grabbed, needed.

“You’re so soft,” he breathes, kissing down your cheek, your jaw. “So fucking soft, baby. I can’t think when I’m near you.”

You whimper when he kisses under your ear, and his hand immediately slides up your thigh in response, like a reward.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Say it again. Let me hear you.”

You try to muffle the sound. He doesn’t let you.

His hand grabs your chin, not rough, but firm—tilting your face so you’re looking right into his eyes.

“I want to hear what I do to you,” he whispers.

You’re panting now, chest rising and falling fast. He can see it—the way your cardigan pulls at the buttons with every breath, how your thighs twitch under his grip. He watches you fall apart like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Then he leans in—presses a kiss just above your collarbone, lips lingering there, breathing you in.

“You smell like fucking vanilla and library pages,” he groans.

You laugh breathlessly. “That’s not a real—”

“Yes it is.” He kisses you again. “It’s you. It’s driving me insane.”

His hand slides higher—over your skirt, thumb dragging across the top of your thigh-high sock. He’s still on his knees. Still between your legs. Still gripping the edge of your chair like if he lets go, he’ll do something unholy.

“Can I?” he asks. “Can I touch you here?”

You nod—shaky, unsure—but your hips shift forward on their own, and his jaw drops.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, voice breaking. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

He palms your thigh slowly, dragging his hand up until it brushes under the hem of your skirt, and he moans—visibly, eyes fluttering shut like your skin hurts to touch.

“You’re so warm,” he pants. “So fucking warm and perfect—how are you real?”

You gasp when he mouths at your neck again, lips dragging down until he finds your pulse—and sucks. Not hard enough to mark. Not yet. But the intent is there.

You clench around nothing.

He pulls back, breathing hard now.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers.

“So are you.”

His eyes find yours again—glassy, red at the corners, pupils massive, breath completely gone.

“I’ve never wanted anything like I want you,” he admits. “Not once. Not ever.”

_________

You’re not sure who breathes louder—him or you.

But your thighs are trembling.

And his hands haven’t even done what they’re desperate to do yet.

Still kneeling, Sunghoon stares up at you like he’s praying to something. His hair’s falling into his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen and damp from how hard he kissed you. And then there’s his eyes—those glazed-over, black-hole pupils swallowing the soft brown whole.

“I need to see you,” he whispers. “Right fucking now.”

Your breath skips. “What—what do you—”

His hands slide under your skirt.

No warning this time. No hesitation.

And when his fingers meet the soft cotton of your panties, he groans. Loudly.

“Fuck, baby—”

You arch.

He hasn’t even touched you properly yet. Just his palm over your underwear. But he feels everything—the heat, the softness, the way you twitch under him.

He leans forward and moans into your thigh.

“You’re so wet, and I’ve barely even done anything. You’re shaking for me already?” His voice cracks, trembling at the edge of his restraint. “You don’t know what that does to me.”

You gasp when he presses his whole hand against your pussy through the fabric—fingers spread, applying pressure like he wants to memorize the shape of you.

His eyes roll back slightly. He bites his lip.

“Ohhh, my God—” he growls. “I’ve thought about this. Every. Fucking. Night.”

You can barely breathe. Your head tips back against the chair, legs falling wider apart without you realizing, and he notices.

“Oh my fucking god, baby,” he groans, voice desperate. “You’re opening up for me.”

You try to speak—say something smart, something sexy—but then his thumb rubs you in a slow, firm circle over your panties and you gasp, loud and sharp, legs jerking.

“There she is,” he pants. “That’s my girl.”

You whimper.

His hand flexes—his other one gripping your thigh, thumb dragging over the skin where your sock ends like he’s about to lose it over the lace trim alone.

“I’m not gonna finger you yet,” he mutters. “Not here. Not until I can take my time. You deserve more than two fingers in a library.”

You moan softly.

“But I’m gonna get you close, baby. I’m gonna make you fucking drip for me.”

He presses harder.

You’re soaking through your panties now—you know it, because you feel it, and from the way his jaw drops when he cups you again?

He feels it too.

“Jesus fuck,” he whispers. “You’re soaked. Fuck, fuck—you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You’re writhing now.

Tiny, helpless gasps leave your mouth with every motion—your eyes fluttering, your head rolling slightly to the side, hands gripping the armrests of the chair like they’re the only things keeping you from floating away.

And then he leans up.

Still between your legs. Still palming your pussy with one hand. But now he brings his mouth to your ear and whispers:

“Do you want me to grind on you, baby? You want me to fuck against your pretty little panties like a pathetic virgin?”

You moan—sharp, high, helpless.

And that destroys him.

He practically growls. “Yeah? That get you off? You want to feel how fucking hard I am just from watching you squirm?”

You nod frantically. “Yes—please—Sunghoon—”

He stands.

His hands go to his belt.

You watch—frozen—as he undoes it fast, the click of metal loud and vulgar in the quiet library. Then he’s shoving his pants down just enough, groaning softly when the pressure eases, and—

Fuck.

He’s huge.

Thick. Red at the tip. Leaking.

You choke.

He strokes himself once—twice—then looks at you like he’s about to eat you alive.

“Pull your panties to the side.”

Your hands shake.

“Let me see you,” he adds, quieter. “Just a little. Please.”

And the “please” wrecks you.

You do it.

Panties tugged gently aside, your thighs trembling, your whole body flushed and aching. You can’t look him in the eye.

But he can’t look anywhere else.

“Oh, my fucking god.”

He strokes himself slowly, lining up with your folds—not pushing in, just grinding against you, head dragging up your slit as he holds your hips steady with both hands.

You cry out.

He moans—deep and raw—like the sound of you is something holy.

“You feel that?” he pants. “That’s what you do to me. You made me this hard. You’re gonna make me come just from fucking against your soaked little cunt.”

You grip the chair tighter, eyes wide, mouth open—because he’s grinding now, slow and filthy, his cock sliding up and down your folds, teasing your clit every pass, his head catching just slightly on your entrance each time he rocks forward.

You’re not even being fucked.

But it feels like it.

Every time his tip drags up your clit, you shake. Your moans are getting louder—higher—your body twitching beneath him.

“You gonna come like this?” he growls. “You gonna come just from me humping your little pussy like a fucking pervert?”

You nod desperately.

And then he moans, forehead pressed to yours, sweat building on his temples.

“I’m gonna make you come, baby,” he pants. “And then I’m gonna ruin you for real.”

_________

Sunghoon’s hips are grinding into you now—slow, desperate thrusts that drag the thick head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, catching on your clit with every pass. The friction is filthy—wet and hot and perfect, the head of his cock gliding against your slickness like he was meant to be there.

And the sounds he makes?

Devastating.

Every rock of his hips earns a moan—guttural, shattered, like he’s falling apart just from being this close to you.

“You feel that?” he pants against your ear. “You feel how hard I am for you, baby?”

You nod frantically, fingers clutching his shoulders, legs trembling.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls. “I’m not even inside you and you’re dripping—Jesus, you’re making a mess.”

You are.

The fabric of your panties is soaked, your thighs sticky, your whole body trembling like you’re about to break.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasps, voice cracking. “I’m gonna come just from rubbing against you—oh my god, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

He buries his face in your neck, his breath hot and erratic.

“I can’t—fuck—I can’t stop—”

His thrusts get faster, more frantic.

Each grind rubs right over your clit, dragging the swollen head of his cock across the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure. You’re whining now—sharp, high sounds that make his rhythm stutter.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Let me hear you. Let me fucking hear you—”

You moan louder.

And his whole body jerks.

“Oh my god, I’m so fucking close—”

You are too.

Your hips twitch against his, meeting each thrust, chasing the friction that’s making your stomach coil tighter and tighter.

“Come for me,” he gasps. “Come on my cock, baby. Please—please, I need to feel it.”

You cry out.

Your orgasm hits like a wave—sharp, blinding, a full-body tremble that makes your legs lock around his waist, your back arch, your nails dig into his skin.

“Ohhh fuck—baby—yes, that’s it—fuck, fuck—”

He loses it.

His hips jerk once, twice—and then he moans, loudly, voice wrecked as he comes. Hard. The hot, wet pulse of it spilling against your soaked folds as he ruts through it like he can’t stand to stop.

His whole body shakes.

His mouth is open, eyes squeezed shut, breath shattered as he gasps through it.

“Holy fuck,” he moans. “You just made me come so fucking hard—fuck, baby—”

You hold him.

And he doesn’t pull away.

⸻

The Aftermath

You’re both still trembling.

His head is buried in your neck, his breath sticky against your skin, his hands gripping the back of your chair like if he lets go, he’ll fall to pieces. Your skirt is hiked up. His pants are open. You’re sticky. Sweaty. Spent.

And neither of you moves.

For a long, breathless moment, it’s just… quiet.

Then, slowly, Sunghoon exhales.

He lifts his head.

And when he looks at you?

His eyes are glassy.

Not just from pleasure. Not just from lust. But something else—something softer. Something terrifyingly tender.

He reaches up and brushes your hair from your face.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod, breath catching.

He leans in—kisses your cheek. Then your temple. Then the corner of your mouth.

“I’ve never,” he murmurs, “ever… felt anything like that.”

You bite your lip.

“I liked it,” you whisper.

He smiles, small and stunned.

Then he bends down and presses his forehead to your chest, arms wrapping around your waist like he’s never letting go.

“You’re mine now,” he says softly. “You know that, right?”

You nod.

And you let him hold you.

Because in this moment—sweaty, messy, heart still pounding—you’ve never felt more wanted.

Or more safe.

_____

You don’t know how long you sit there with him.

His arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Your legs still parted over his hips. The library’s overhead lights hum softly above you, casting a pale glow over his messy hair, his swollen mouth, the pink flush still dusting his cheekbones.

And for once—just once—he isn’t teasing. Isn’t cocky. Isn’t even speaking.

He’s holding.

He’s breathing you in.

As if this moment is something sacred.

You card your fingers through his hair, gentle and slow, and he sighs like it’s the only thing keeping him from dissolving into the air.

“You okay?” you whisper.

He nods, but doesn’t let go.

You glance down and realize his eyes are closed, lashes fluttering against your chest. And you swear—swear—he looks like a boy who just found peace for the first time.

Eventually, he murmurs into your skin:

“You make me feel like I don’t have to be the asshole anymore.”

Your heart clenches.

You press your lips to his forehead and whisper:

“You never were. You were just scared.”

He laughs softly. Choked. Like that truth finally freed him.

And you know, in that moment, whatever comes next—he’s yours.

And you’re his.

Not just in lust.

But in everything.

____________

i love me some pathetic YEARNING men 🙏🙏

THANK YOU FOR READING LUVS <3

© si3rren 2025. all rights reserved.

[cyjhhyj]

given-taken (l. hs, p. js, s. jy, p. sh)

pairing. boyfriend heeseung x female reader x jake x jay x sunghoon

genre. explicit smut, fluff, college au, pwp, established relationship, friends ‘helping’ friends warnings. profanity, camera use, pillow princess y/n, voyeurism, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise, daddy kink, cuck vibes, kink discovery. minors DNI.

wc. 10,000+ taglist. @deobitifull @yunjardi @smuchsmut @lhsng @enhasolace @sjakewrld @jchezca @cha0thicpisces @skzenhalove @anunconditionallylover @hwangsies @dannyyy10 @pansies-garden @cherryunie @09yyeol @yongboksfreckles @zerasari @bxby-bloom @bunhoons @axartia @markleeisdabestdrug. @bwljules @qu0kkarambles @jenniferecand @poipoi01 @jeondolly @lalalalawon @asjkdk @eulaenthusiast @prettykia @danijmo @azulupori5

when Lee Heeseung chose cinematography as an elective, he never could have foreseen the dramatic impact it would have on his sex life.

professor Choi struts back and forth before watchful eyes admiring the way he seems to float with each step. soothing his throat with a sip of water, he comes to a stop facing the rows of seats leading up in an incline. students gaze upon him, some half-asleep hunched over their desks praying for class to end quickly. others stressed, pencils gripped tight between two fingers ready to jot down details about their end of the semester project.

“relationships.” professor Choi leans back on the ledge of his desk. smirking at the amount of heads raising higher with confusion. 

“oftentimes, we correlate relationships to that with another person. relationships are more about a connection to something, whether it be an object, a pet, a memory. it is the state of being connected. involved in a way.”

gesturing toward the students seated near the front, he stands up asking for different examples.

“exactly. even now what we have with each other is a relationship. from teacher to student, you learn, I educate. we provide something for each other, don’t we?”

professor Choi scribbles a few examples of relationships on the erase board. underlining the topic for major emphasis. 

“you are probably wondering what the hell I am going on about by now.” he says, stepping up to the podium. “for your final project I want you to deep dive relationships. connections. I need you to reach inside, evoke human emotions, make me feel invigorated. I want to laugh, cry, lose sleep over how damn good your documentation is.”

clasping his hands together, he smiles, radiating enough enthusiasm to have everyone grow excited. “if you can move me enough to feel something I’ve never felt before, I’ll even curve half of your final grade based on the outcome of your film.”

rounds of gasps and chatter fill the room upon the news. professor Choi smacks the podium to gain back attention for more instruction. “you have the next two months, I trust you to find your groups. no more than 5 per team please. take this seriously, I expect the most from my top students.”

sure enough Jake wastes no time to gather up 4 seats around a desk. crammed together with 3 of his best friends without a doubt in mind that they will figure out how to impress professor Choi more than anyone else can. they weren't the ‘top students’ of the class for slacking.

Heeseung sets down a notebook filled with crisp clean writing. fast to jot down and memorize everything the professor says. “what do you guys have in mind? any ideas, should we start brainstorming?”

“relationships.” Jay reads the notes out loud to the table, mimicking the dramatic way professor Choi had commenced today’s lecture. loud and clear enough to be heard by his group of friends. “I guess it could be a less interesting topic to cover.”

“do relationships even exist anymore?” Sunghoon asks. ever the cynical one after many failed attempts at anything beyond fuck buddies and one night stands.

“of course they do.” Jake joins in, waving the end of his pencil toward the two. “unless you attend Euphoria high and your names are Nate Jacobs or Cassie Howard.”

leaning back to straighten out, he pretends to choke himself around his neck. ‘I love that I’m your secret.’ he coughs, gagging as if he can’t breathe. ‘and I can’t tell a soul.’

“ugh yeah, choke me daddy.” Jay jeers in a high pitched tone. jutting out his hip to smack hard enough for a sound of skin on skin to emit followed by chuckles and scoffs.

“that’s not a relationship.” Sunghoon says, rolling his eyes. “I mean it is, a toxic one. I would know. I didn’t vow to never date another ‘Cassie’ again because of the fond memories.”

“a lot of relationships we see on tv and media are toxic these days. look at Kim and Kanye, actually don’t, if I have to hear about their high school drama again I might scream.” Heeseung adds in thoughtfully. mouth tweaked to the side as he thinks it over. “that’s the problem, all we ever see anymore is toxic relationships. dating culture is dead.”

“that’s not true Heeseung!“ Jake pats his friend’s chest. “how can you say that when you have the perfect relationship? your girlfriends a damn angel.”

“that’s true bro, you have like..maybe the most healthy example of a relationship I’ve ever seen.” Sunghoon nods, head slanting to the side at the first sign of jealousy panging the back of his mind. “must be nice.”

Jay snaps his fingers, focusing everyone’s attention back on him. “that’s it! you guys are right!”

turning to a blank page, Jay begins to write as he continues to speak. “we’ll make a documentary about healthy relationships in 2022. a culture of souls who’ve lost hope to find their true love. we’re all too busy worrying about the future, if we can even buy a house. Heeseung’s done it though. he’s proof love can still prevail if two people really try to make it work.”

“we’re going to make a film about my relationship?” Heeseung asks, confused. “I don’t know about that. I have to talk to her about this first..”

“I think that actually sounds like a brilliant idea.” Jake encourages Jay’s thoughts. tapping his chin as he ponders it over. “it’s not like either of you have easy lives. you struggle to make rent, study day and night, even had an awkward first meeting..” he coughs, smiling timidly. “but you really do adore each other. it’s sickening in the softest, sweetest, most beautiful way honestly.”

Sunghoon nods, rolling his bottom lip between two fingers. “a budding healthy relationship in this day and age, it’s a rare sight. the divorce rates are high, hook-up culture is thriving. how do you do it Hee?”

Heeseung holds back a sigh, glancing at the pairs of eyes watching him expectantly.

his friends are right, he really could not ask for a better relationship. it was almost too perfect how well the two of you got along. even cuddling in a small twin size bed felt like aligning a missing puzzle piece; finally completing the set.

nothing can really be perfect though, can it? 

what is a perfect relationship anyway? 

is it coming home to the shoebox sized studio apartment you share with your partner; finding them at the stove waving and smiling cheerfully after a busy day of stressful classes? somehow still happy to announce that they’re boiling two packets of your favorite ramen?

is it huddling up together on the floor with your backs pressed to the couch sharing that said pot of boiling noodles as you rewatch Spirited Away together for the 1000th time? 

or is it taking a shower together before bed, using the excuse that your water bill was high last month and you could cut the cost by rinsing off at the same time?

perhaps it’s a combination of everything, from the way you laugh and make a mess of toothpaste dribbling down your chin before hopping in the shower for a quick rinse; recounting a silly joke your instructor bombed during political science this morning.

laughter and conversation melts into the fog filling up your tiny shared bathroom, and as you stand together held against Heeseung’s chest with warm water streaming down your back, you know that at the end of the day this feels perfect.

it’s not the standard idea of ideal, but you’ve never been happier.

“Choi assigned our final assignment for the semester finally.”

Heeseung’s voice cracks as he recounts his day, nervously swallowing, nestled up to your side in bed.

“that’s awesome? it’s still a good while before the school year ends.” 

he nods, fiddling with his fingers tediously.

“alright, spit it out. what’s going on?” you question, knowing your boyfriend well enough to understand when he’s hiding something from you.

“I’m working with the guys, obviously.” he starts to explain. “we have to complete a documentation on relationships.”

“sounds like an interesting topic to me?” you shrug.

Heeseung nods, gnawing on his lip. “they want to make it about our relationship.”

“our relationship??” you can’t control the snort that passes through your nose, arching one of your eyebrows as you turn to look at your boyfriend. “what about our relationship?”

“the guys say we have a perfect relationship..” Heeseung blushes, warding away his nervousness with a stifled laugh. “I mean..”

“of course we do,” you tease, burying your chin in his chest. “right, daddy?”

“ahhh..” the pink shade layering his cheeks spreads further, growing more rudy. “none of that in front of the camera alright?”

“oooh the camera.” you continue to taunt, poking and pinching at his flat abdomen. “what kind of movie are we making daddy??”

Heeseung’s eyes roll up comically at your flirtatious tone, taking a hold of your head to massage your scalp. “I’m serious, don’t talk about that with the guys around. that’s just between us.”

“you know, my friends' boyfriends love to brag about this type of stuff.”

“you know how I am.” Heeseung kisses your forehead, cuddling deeper into your body with his arms locked around your waist. 

of course you know how your boyfriend is.

it’s still a surprise he tolerated your antics from the beginning; while you have always been more of an explorer, Heeseung still had a lot to learn.

a lot, beyond vanilla sex that hardly ever satisfied your hunger and thirst for more. vanilla sex that unfortunately made you resort to creating fake scenarios in your head of your boyfriend snapping one day. a dream to get bent over and plowed through even as he held you close and repeated the list of things he loves about you.

you knew from the first time you made out in the backseat of his car and reached for his hand— setting it on your neck suggestively only for the softest touch to stroke along the column of your throat while peppering your lips with breathless whimpering kisses that he wasn’t anything like the guys you’d been with before.

you pushed it more, dropping into a deep heated mental space of trust after sleeping together; deep enough to let the nickname slip from your lips.

your boyfriend's reaction was stiff, mouth agape with widened eyes. evidently too shocked by your moment of weakness, enough to have you panicking and giggling. turning the playful name into a joke overtime, because how silly is it to call your significant other ‘daddy’. the excuse seemed to calm his initial surprise, nodding and smiling before returning to thrust inside of you slowly. even now he turns crimson red every time you say it.

Heeseung was special to you though, he always put you first. friends, schoolwork, any stresses that could ruin his day; he made sure to always prioritize the importance of your relationship. 

it was an easy choice to move in with him, the most impressive part of your connection is how easily you came to trust him. 

trust and adoration that made it harder and harder to express the one problem you can’t stop dwelling on; your sex life.

at times there were glimpses of hope, Heeseung has a naturally nurturing and caring demeanor afterall. 

the amount of love and attachment to him outweighed your need to get railed out of your mind.

at least you’ve managed to convince yourself of that, love prevails all, right?

“I think we should start off filming the two of you just like doing your usual daily stuff.” Sunghoon stands in your small kitchen, setting up lights on the counter space. “I mean, you guys sicken us enough on a average day; viewers love that type of stuff.”

“hey!” you whine, stomping your foot for dramatic effect. 

he shrugs sporting a smirk, proceeding to record the two of you; mouthing to ‘keep it casual’ as you work on preparing ingredients for dinner later.

on film you do depict a perfect couple, well suited for each other even just standing side by side. Jake mentions the two of you look great on camera, like the pairings you see in corny romance movies.

awkward moments when you meet eyes with the camera turn into hysterical laughter and joking around, it’s not too bad.

you sit and interview together explaining how long you’ve been in a relationship now. what prompted the two of you to move in together, pretty mundane questions about your lives together.

Heeseung was worried for no reason, at least you thought.

“we’ll do the one-on-one interview portion now.” Jay says, directing his attention to you. “if there is anything you aren’t comfortable with answering, just let us know?”

apprehensively you glance to your boyfriend, clutching his fingers in your grip. he nods, reassuring you with his other hand gliding up and down your spine in a comforting manner. “no pressure, okay?”

“I know..”

Heeseung gives you a kiss, sharing that he will be out on the rooftop deck until you��re done answering their questions for today.

“nothing to be nervous about, it’s just us.” Jake smiles, motioning for you to sit where they have set up a backdrop in your living room.

“it’s just to get a perspective of your relationship from one side.” Sunghoon informs. “I’m really hoping for one of those masterful moments where the protagonist has the same thought as their counterpart without knowing beforehand.”

he finishes, adding a wink while playing with the microphone stand perched over your head. 

“you good?” Jay sits nearby, just far enough from you to not enter the camera frame. he smiles softly, patting your bouncing knee.

“yeah yeah, it’s fine.” you gulp. “I am a little anxious.”

“of course, totally a normal reaction.” he advises you to take deep breaths before starting. giving you a few minutes, the guys all join your breathing exercise assisting you to calm down and quill your sparking nerves with affirmations that you have no reason to stress over this.

worry dissipates as you get into the groove of things, simple with stating your name, age, and how long you have been in a relationship. it’s easy-going really, just like having a conversation with friends gathering your memories to discuss over a long night.

“when did you know Heeseung was someone you’d want to commit to for this long?” Jay asks, letting you know to take your time answering. they have two months to complete their documentary anyway.

“probably after our second month of dating honestly.” you smile fondly, crowding deeper into yourself feeling shy suddenly. “when we were all playing basketball and my shoelace came untied..”

“oh god.” Sunghoon snorts, shaking his head knowing the exact story you are about to share.

“Hee was supposed to hit a 3 pointer, but saw I almost tripped on my loose shoelace and dropped the ball to tie my shoe for me.” you’re smiling bashfully now, clearly rehearing the coo’s your friends let out as your boyfriend dropped down to one knee without having to be asked.

Sunghoon mocks a gag pretending to shove his finger down his throat. “I was so mad at him. I lost $20 on that game.”

“yeah, you all started to boo him. I guess that’s when I knew.”

Jake laughs under his breath behind the camera remembering that part as well, how they threatened to bring tomatoes the next time in case Heeseung decides to pull something like that again.

“okay, next question— do you remember what it was about Heeseung that caught your attention the first time you met?” Jay asks, continuing to read through a compiled list of notes they have worked on since planning for their assignment. 

Jake shifts in his seat, adjusting the camera in his hold. the question arising discomfort for him, still able to vividly recall the first time you all met.

Sunghoon had been rushing for a frat for over two months at the time, finally in his last week of hazing he caught a break. other than having to supply alcohol along with his other rushies without an ID to do so, they were able to plan a great party.

a great party you had happened to attend after your friends pestered you the day before; reminding you that it’s been months since you’ve gotten dicked down.

the perfect opportunity to find a hook-up for the night stumbled right into you while trying to catch a pingpong; successfully spilling the cup of lukewarm beer in his hand as his chest collided with yours.

‘I got it! I got it!’

all that Jake Sim would get that night would be a dry cleaning bill for ruining the white bodycon dress your friends convinced you to wear. something about how frat boys wouldn’t be able to resist your curved out hips and ass in a stretchy material that could hardly cover your bottom.

“oh fuck.” Jake stutters, foregoing the red solo cup in hand to grab onto your shoulders before cracking your back on the table behind you.

his accent catches you off guard at first, and then his large eyes full of fright, the way the corners of his lips point up even while frowning. all of that subsiding as your chests crash together, unintentionally pulling your bodies as physically close as possible to prevent further damage.

“fuck, I’m so sorry!”

cute. you think, pulling a grimace when the scent of beer hits your nostrils. beer that’s soaked through the material of your dress, now clinging to your skin.

“my dress!” you exclaim, balancing yourself by pushing his weight away.

Jake gapes, opening and shutting his mouth horrified, and mildly turned on as he takes in your soaked figure.

“Jake!” another guy calls out from behind, charging over with a wad of paper towels in hand. “oh my god, you really messed her up.”

Jake hadn’t managed to knock you off your feet, physically, but looking up and locking eyes with his friend nearly had you tripping while standing in place.

while Jake had surprised you by practically beheading you on your way to the kitchen for a refreshment, the large eyes scanning over your face filled with worry had you ready to pitifully collapse to your knees.

“I’m so sorry about this..” he speaks up, breaking your lost haze. “it’s my fault.”

“no no, Heeseung it’s my fault.” Jake says, patting his friend's arm. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m such an idiot, and I’m kind of drunk.”

“I threw the ball too hard.” Heeseung lets him know with a frown. 

as adorable as their apologetic banter was, you let out a sound of annoyance, flailing your arms. “my dress!”

“right!” the taller boy jumps up straight to attention, flailing similarly to you in response. “here!”

he gulps, lingering over the trickles of beer pouring down your thighs. patting down his chest, he reaches to unbutton his long sleeve plaid top. “sorry, sorry..”

shaking off the shirt, he hands it over to you without question. “don’t worry about returning it, I’ll be fine.”

“I need a bathroom..” you sigh, disgusted by the sticky bitter smell of IPA stuck to your legs and chest. 

the three of you glance around fast, spotting a long line wrapping up the stairs for the restroom.

“whatever” you mutter, removing the straps from your dress first before rolling the rest of the material off. grateful you opted for a cute matching bra and pantie set today in hopes of getting laid.

“oh, I—“ the two guys before you splutter, averting their gaze around while shifting to create a wall to hide your exposed skin. 

“didn’t think she was going to do that.” Jake whispers to his friend under his breath. pretending to look around while stealing glimpses at your breasts half pushed out of your bra.

“shirt!” you call out, reaching toward the taller boy. leveraging yourself with a hold on his shoulder as you hop free from your ruined dress. 

“this is probably a bad time,” he turns back to face you, waving the shirt before you while looking away. “I’m Heeseung, by the way.”

Heeseung.

he smiles, holding open his shirt for you to get into. it’s long thankfully, longer than the dress you had on in the first place. buttoning up starting from the bottom, you take him in; studying the nervous gulp passing through his throat. 

he’s cute, handsome, and makes your heartbeat grow to a rapid speed when he licks his lips.

“Heeseung..” you repeat slowly, enjoying the way his name naturally slips off your tongue.

“oh yeah, and I’m Jake.” his friend interrupts with a sharp smile. 

that’s the first time you met Heeseung, and Jake. 

“we all know how you guys met.” Sunghoon intervenes in your storytelling. “but..”

“yeah, like why Heeseung?” Jay finishes his thought. “Jake was the one who knocked you off your feet.”

you nod, reminiscing on the rest of the evening. Heeseung continued to apologize while attempting to find the laundry room, only to find a washer filled with ice and alcohol for party goers who wandered up the stairs.

“it’s okay,” you let him know, gripping his arm and coughing to hide your surprise when his bicep flexes. “that stains set in by now.”

Heeseung clearly felt bad, taking the full blame before setting down Jake to regather himself and sober up with a cup full of water. he sighs, shifting foot to foot.

“I can buy you a new dress? I feel really bad.” 

cute. he’s so cute.

“how bad do you feel?” you ask coyly, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed to push your chest up more. strategically leaving the buttons of his top open enough to have your bra on full display.

Heeseung swallows again, fidgeting and stifling an awkward laugh. 

“is there something I can do for you right now?”

that was the moment he grabbed your attention, from stripping the shirt off his own back to following you around for the last two hours groveling because he ruined your night; you knew he was a giver.

“you know when you meet someone and you think— how can this person be real?” you ask your friends, speaking to the camera. “I don’t believe in love at first sight honestly, but the first time I met Heeseung.. I considered changing my mind.”

“that night, we lost the two of you.” Jake nods, focusing the camera on your face. “I’m assuming you fucked before the first date?”

“should we be cussing for this?” Jay asks, earning a round of ‘ohhh right’.

Jake clears his throat, turning to face you bodily from behind the camera. “you hooked up? after the party?”

“actually..” Jake zooms into your lips, capturing the way you chew on one side anxiously, panning up to your irises that shake. “we didn’t.”

Sunghoon lets out a huff, surprised much like his two friends. “weren’t you only there with a goal to get di—uh….to meet a guy for the night?”

“I was.” you confirm, rubbing your sweaty palms against your thighs. “we ended up walking to a park a few blocks away and just….talking. the next day we had our first date, at a little coffee shop.”

“and then you hooked up?” Jay questions, scribbling a few notes down.

“no..” you swallow, each of your changing mannerisms caught on film as Jake shoots the way your fingers have started to twitch, the rise and fall of your chest, and splotches rising up your throat. “he walked me home, and gave me a kiss..”

“Heeseung’s a gentleman.” Sunghoon nods with a knowing smile. 

“he is.” you say. “in fact, he didn’t kiss me on the lips until our fifth date.”

“WHAT?” Jake topples forward, ruining the footage by doing so; sitting back up to apologize and collect himself.

“where did he kiss you?” Jay wonders.

you flush, tapping the tip of your nose, then each of your cheekbones, chin and forehead. “honestly, he’s the first guy that’s never tried to get in my pants after 5 minutes of conversation.”

Sunghoon ruins the moment with a sound of disgust. “man, you two are down bad. sick.”

“stop me if this is too.. invasive, but..” Jay taps his notes. “you’ve been dating over a year now, so when did you two have sex?

“six months.” you share, folding your hands to stop the fidgeting. “I asked him to.”

the three of them splutter, sharing shocked looks with gaped open mouths. 

“d-do-do you.. not like sex?” Sunghoon asks timidly, unsure how much you’re willing to share.

“I love sex.” you say confidently, meeting eyes with Jay, Jake, Sunghoon and then the camera lense. “can we stop recording?”

Jake turns off the camera without hesitation, nodding and mumbling a quick ‘of course!’.

“is everything okay?” Jay’s mouth quirks to the side with concern, setting down his notes to speak more casually.

“yeah, I just..” blinking up with watery eyes has the three of them folding in closer to comfort you, worried in an instance that they’ve made you uncomfortable. “it’s okay, it’s okay guys, seriously.”

“hey, you can tell us anything, alright?” Jay moves closer, slinging his arm around your shoulder, gently petting up to your neck.

“yeah, fuck the assignment right now. did we push it too far with the questions?” Jake gets down into a squat to peer up at you from below, just like a puppy sensing your turmoil and rubbing its cheek on your knee.

“no no!” you’re fast to reassure them. after all they accepted you into their group without question when Heeseung started to bring you around. confirming every word of praise he spoke of you once the rest of them got to know you better. 

more than Heeseung’s girlfriend, you are also their friend.

“it’s nothing you guys said, I shouldn’t have agreed to filming this.”  

Sunghoon hums and shrugs. “we can always change our subject to something else. I don’t want to upset you more.”

“we don’t have to talk about sex either.” Jay consoles, stroking your hair away from your face. “the stuff just about what the two of you like about each other is great.”

“I just..” you falter, trailing off. meeting Jake’s curious concern, blanketing you with a sense of calm. “I love Heeseung, like.. everyday I think about how I’m going to end up marrying him; I have no doubt.”

they snort and laugh at that, nodding for you to continue.

“but there is.. something.”

it’s not easy for you to share and talk about this, opting to smile and stay silent whenever your friends make jokes that Heeseung must rail you through your shared bed nightly.

‘I saw her limping into class the other day’ one of your friends taunts, pointing an accusing finger at you. ‘knowing you, he’s probably overjoyed that you’re such a greedy cock slut.’

you only wished their jokes held some truth.

“the thing is, my boyfriend, he is really a true gentleman.” you clarify, casually admitting how much you love Heeseung. “trust me— there is not a single doubt in my mind that I am going to marry that guy. even if I have to be the one to get down on one knee and propose to him myself.”

“I think I know what it is.” Jake interferes, holding up his palms. “I know how Hee is, he’s not..”

he staggers a bit, motioning to Sunghoon at his side. “you’re super dominant you know, uh maybe even aggressive at times. Jay’s more wild, messy..”

“what the fuck dude?” his friend blurts, scoffing because he hates that it’s true.

“I mean, me too! I’m, you know— figuring myself out.”

“Heeseung’s uh,” Sunghoon joins in, catching Jake’s drift. “he’s always been more caring and nice. I get what you’re saying.”

“yeah, am I right?” Jake returns to you, smiling when you nod. “you’re too scared to ask him to be.. rougher?”

Jay cleans off the tears rolling down to your chin with the end of his sleeve, going ‘ahh that makes sense’ when you nod again.

“I’m going to text Hee to come back.” Jake picks up his phone. “this is a groundbreaking moment, and he’s my best friend. I can assure you that he’ll be more understanding than you might think. is that okay with you?”

Jay helps by soothing your spine with soft strokes, giving you a thumbs up to encourage you. “okay, you can text him.”

you know Jake’s right. your boyfriend has never shamed you or made you feel inferior; as if you have any reason to feel embarrassed, but it’s still hard for you to tell him the truth.

it’s harder when Heeseung comes back and throws his arms around you upon meeting your watery eyes. scolding his friends for disobeying his rules as you attest that they have done nothing wrong, but you have been hiding something from him.

between more tears and sobs breaking your speech, you manage to mutter something about how you don’t want to make him feel bad but you desire for an adventurous sex life; along with helpful assistance from the three men sat around to full explain your dilemma, Heeseung begins to understand the meaning behind your fear and cries.

“it’s my fault.” he sighs, drawing you closer to his chest while littering kisses down to the tip of your nose. “I should have paid better attention.”

“no no!” you protest, gripping at his waist for semblance. “I love you so much, you’ve done nothing wrong! you are incapable of doing anything wrong baby!”

“ah you guys are really sick.” Sunghoon breaks the heightened emotional grief finally, after watching the two of you attack each other with words of appreciation and pure love. “it’s so painfully cute. sex is important and all, but you will both figure it out from here.”

Heeseung meets his friend's pleased expressions, worrying his bottom lip between two fingers with concern. “what if I don’t know how to?”

“what do you mean?” Jake asks, checking on the camera set down on your makeshift living room table that’s been recording your impromptu therapy session.

“I—“ Heeseung stutters, squishing your torso tighter against his. “I don’t know how..”

“ahh..” Sunghoon waves for his friend to not finish his sentence. “got it.”

“this is going to sound really insane.” Jay laughs awkwardly, pinching and tugging at his earlobe. “we could turn the camera off, if you want to try this. just uh, between friends, you know, like old times.”

“try what?”  Heeseung fixes him with an inquisitive look, earning a shaky gulp from his friend.

“we could..” he gestures toward Sunghoon and Jake. “help?”

Sunghoon’s groomed eyebrows sky rocket at that, huffing out a timid laugh as well. “oh you are insane.”

Jake stays silent, gauging for yours and Heeseung’s reactions. 

“it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve..” Jay trails off, sitting up with a stiff smile. “..stop me if I shouldn’t say more guys.”

Jake nods, shrugging to his friends before meeting your confused gaze and continuing where Jay paused. “it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve hooked up with the same girl. before the two of you were an item, it happened a couple of times.”

“babe??” you turn toward your boyfriend, tilting your head to the side for an answer.

Heeseung starts to laugh nervously now as well. “typically it was just Jake and I, or Sunghoon, uh one time Jay.”

“at the same time?!” you blurt out, more surprised than anything.

“don’t forget Hoon’s first night at the frat.” Jake interrupts. “that was all four of us.”

“wow, you guys are whores.” it’s your turn to laugh, trying to picture your boyfriend struggling in the middle of a five-way between his friends; and the amount of times ‘oops sorry’ must have been whispered whenever their dicks accidentally brushed against each other.

“college you know..” Jake excuses their antics with a shrug. “honestly, I mean I’ve told Heeseung about this before too, but that first night we all met, I thought..”

“oh yeah, Jakey here was so disappointed when the two of you disappeared for the night.” Jay adds. “he told us he felt that threesome in his dick.”

“dude!”

“you did!”

“well! I let that go once you started dating!” Jake defends himself. 

silence falls between the group waiting for you and Heeseung to voice your thoughts. a few shared silent looks have you nodding, playing with the shell of your boyfriend’s ear until he smiles and complains that it tickles too much.

“only if you want to.” he whispers to you, tapping the tip of his nose against yours.

“I want to.”

while you have experimented enough during your first two years of university, finding yourself in bed with 4 men is certainly a situation you somehow had never managed to land yourself in before, until now.

two was an average weekend during your single days, but four had your heart racing right out of your chest. thankful for your boyfriend’s presence at the end of the bed watching you and reminding you repeatedly that this can stop whenever you feel too overwhelmed.

you’re cramped between Jay and Sunghoon with Jake sitting on his knees on the outer middle of your less than spacious bed. Heeseung stays toward the end rubbing his palms against his thighs anxiously. 

“this is a lot less awkward when you’re inebriated and feeling lonely at 2 in the morning..” Jay cracks a joke to ease how thick the air has become around the five of you.

scooting closer to your side, he taps your chin first to get you to look at him, gently perching your face in his palm before pressing in closer. “you good?”

“yeah..”

“your lips look really soft,” you can tell Jay’s nervous from the way his mouth trembles as he speaks. just barely grazing your upper lip in a back and forth motion. “they are really really soft..”

Jay’s initial worry melts away, pushing forward until your head hits a pillow. his hips dig into your side, reaching for the one of the straps of your top to trace from your shoulder to your breast. the rapid beat of your chest lifts his hand up and down, pushed under weight applied to grope and knead your covered breast.

“fuck,” Jay curses between another fierce kiss. the harshness in his touch matching the neediness delivered with his lips. he bites, sucks, nibbles and tugs on your meaty bottom lip. getting your mouth abused and swollen within minutes. seconds transform into minutes quickly lost to his rapturous tongue shoving inside of your mouth to taste every corner and crevice. “taste so sweet.”

it’s not much at first, but the whispered compliment has your waist arching up chasing after him to deepen the kiss. your whimpers are swallowed down as another hand strokes over your stomach becoming exposed with Jay’s relentless teasing to your chest. he tweaks and pinches the hardened buds poking through the material of your top, enough to make your thighs squirm and push together frantically. 

Heeseung wants to look away at first, contemplating calling off this ordeal, but the first sound of pleasure you let you makes his spine stand ramrod straight, concern twists his eyebrows together. leaning in closer to find your back rounded off the bed, thighs smashed together passing tremors down to your toes from just kissing.

rough kisses, different from the soft, slow, caress-like ones he exchanges with you daily. Jay’s kisses turn your mouth a darker shade, plump and pouty, deliciously lewd in appearance as you pass another moan.

Jake pats his shoulder to make sure everything’s good, the two sharing a nod as Sunghoon takes the motion as his queue to join and begin feeling up the first exposure of skin he spots. lapping his lips like a hungry animal as his calloused fingers brush along the smooth skin covering the lower half of your unveiled stomach.

he pushes up beneath your top, passing under Jay’s forearm to cup your other breast. a larger, weightier palm grips you with more strength. rolling one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger as the other mauling your mouth slaps and pinches. 

Sunghoon’s excited to remove your clothes and get a good look at your chest, put his mouth to use. he works to push your tank top off more, slapping Jay’s forearm who’s still occupied with ravaging your mouth. 

what Jake said earlier starts to make sense, Jake’s a messy kisser. spit coats your chins banging together as your teeth clash. he’s good, knows how to put the muscles in his jaw to work, controlling the kiss with vacuum-like sucks on your tongue that draws up moans from the back of your throat. 

he’s so good at kissing you feverishly until your head throbs, that you nearly let Sunghoon discard you bra, biting down on Jay’s lips to stop their ministrations. you suck in long winded breaths of air, hot all over under the pairs of hands working to stimulate your nipples.

“maybe,” you glance at the camera turned off and sat on your nightstand, shifting your focus back to Heeseung, back to the camera, back to Heeseung. “you could record.. for reference?”

Jay silently whistles, impressed and continuously shocked by your forwardness. crossing his fingers behind his back to someday meet a girl that will match his experimental sexual energy.

“yeah?” Heeseung leans over to velcro the camera strap to his hand. the recognizable sound of a beep follows, slowly analyzing the curves of your body through the lense. he zooms in to where Sunghoon’s palm lays flat on your stomach, capturing the rapid rise and fall up to your glazed over eyes. 

“you look so pretty.” your boyfriend speaks quietly, low enough for only the camera to pick up; but your gaze never leaves his lips. smiling at him through the camera lense as Sunghoon finally gets your upper half bare. 

“so beautiful.” you know Heeseung is flattering you, never one to go without reminding you of what a good job you’re doing no matter what it may be.

the thrilled sighs of relief around you tickle through your stomach. Jay and Sunghoon return to their positions, each fondling one of your breasts. sharp teeth dig into the roundness, the bigger of the two working to suck up blood harshly between lapping and coating your chest in teeth marks and hickeys. 

dominant and aggressive as Jake said, Jake who stays by Heeseung’s side, watching, admiring, palming the growing bulge in his jeans. laving at saliva that gathers at the corners of his lips as he turns feral watching you take and take.

Sunghoon’s mouth works its way to your ribcage, hungrily sucking on every dry inch of skin his tongue finds. he likes to leave marks, easy to imagine how he’d wrap around your throat until you see dots. until you choke and struggle to breathe, until faded signs of his long fingers appear on your flesh. 

Sunghoon’s creeping toward the entrance of your jeans, cursing under his breath as he struggles to unbutton them and push past. catching Jay’s line of sigh with a glint passing through his iris, the other nodding and moving to help with stripping your legs free of your bottoms.

the seat of your underwear breathes against your entrance, soaked through displaying the full shape of your cunt. groans and curses circle around, the camera following a pathway up your thighs to wear your underwear sit embarrassingly wet.

“fuck fuck” Heeseung grunts to himself, focusing on Sunghoon’s thick fingers pushing your panties between your folds. cursing more when he swears that you visibly pulse through the worn down cotton fabric.

“look at that.” Sunghoon smirks, biting down on the top of your thigh. “such a pretty pussy, I knew you’d have a cute little cunt.”

he delivers a smack between your legs, cupping your core roughly, pushing the heel of his palm against your clothed clit. turning to find Heeseung’s watchful gaze with an arched brow.

“getting her all sloppy wet for you.” Sunghoon taunts him, pressing the pad of his finger along the dip running down the middle of your panties. his teasing works both ways, making your boyfriend’s jeans tighten up on his groin uncomfortably. calling your hips to chase his fingers to touch you where you need.

“like having your pretty pussy played with?” Jay patronizes, squishing your cheeks in until your lips pout out like a beak. he nods your head for you, grinning and licking at the swell of your lips. “slutty little girl letting everyone watch you with your legs spread open.” 

too many hands run over your body at once, amplifying Sunghoon’s digits prodding at your core like a complete pervert, enjoying the way your legs lock up and toes clench against the bedding. delivering another slap he rips at your underwear, tugging them down to your knees.

“Jake,” he snaps, motioning for the other to help hold your thighs apart. Jay leans closer, four sets of eyes burn between your legs, humiliating as your hole grips at nothing, pushing out a glob of fresh wetness desperately.

“holy shit..” Jake gasps, nearly choking on his spit. nodding, he scoots closer. manhandling your panties off before sneaking them into one of his pockets. “you’re so wet..”

the twitch your stomach gives has Sunghoon’s teeth burying into his bottom lip, shaking his head as he spreads your folds apart and motions for Heeseung to get a good shot. “you like that Hee? look at your precious girlfriend, so wet for us. just wants to get fucked so bad.”

“my dicks about to fall off.” Jake mutters, following Jay’s handy work. moving over to replace Sunghoon’s torment on your chest. he greets your heated face with a tender smile, sheepishly kissing down your neck. he’d never admit that he’s had a small attraction to you since the first time you met. praising himself for not fighting his friends away to taste your lips first.

“fuck Heeseung, she’s so tight around my fingers.” Sunghoon looks back and forth from his friend to where the pads of his digits teasingly dip in and out of your hole. pursing together his lips when you clench and tug around him as he seethes inside of you to his first knuckle. “so warm, wet, dripping down to my wrist; just like a good pretty slut should.”

Heeseung can’t deny the way Sunghoon’s words affect him, canting his hips up into nothing, imagining you dripping hot locked around his size. he has to bite back a growl as his friend pushes in deeper, stretching the digits inside of you for your boyfriend to get a good look at your empty hole.

“don’t you wanna fuck her? fill her up real good.” he teases, pressing a kiss to your clit. watching as Heeseung’s demure polite demeanor shatters. rolling his tongue against your bundle of nerves with a smirk dimpling his cheek. Sunghoon thrusts, setting his attention back on your trembling thighs, biting at the sensitive fleshy area in-between. 

“you’re doing so good, letting Hoon feel that tight pussy.” Jay kisses up your burning hot cheeks. nudging against your nose before hoisting your neck up to watch your body ravaged. 

Jake gazes up, lapping and sucking on your breast. Sunghoon works a pattern of marks up your thigh, collecting arousal down his forearm and he begins to jackhammer inside your cunt, and by your feet, Heeseung watches. 

your boyfriend's irises burn black, lustful, carnal, obscene in a light you’ve never seen him in. the camera moves to your face, filming the first roll of your eyes, noisy sounds of pleasure that rip from your chest. loud ragged breaths from the one recording, itching to be the one to make your spine break, to feel you convulse around his fingers like Sunghoon is.

“even your orgasms are pretty, so pretty, just like you.” Jake whispers in your ear, nodding to Sunghoon to move over. he slinks down the bed, pushing your thighs to flatten while looking over his shoulder at the camera.

the mischievous look in his eyes expresses more than words, pushing down onto his stomach as his jaw widens. stretched far to lap from your rim to your clit. 

Jake’s not one to hold back, spreading his tongue to lick stripes between your folds and collect the wetness that's begun to smear on your inner thighs. 

“so good, so god damn good. fuck.” he’s mumbling to himself, vibrating words against your core. rambling about how good you taste on his tongue, smoothly gliding up and down. dipping halfway in and out of your entrance just to make your thighs clamp around his neck.

“guys” he commands quickly, snapping his fingers for Jay and Sunghoon to keep you held open. 

“that’s it, let me eat this pretty pussy the right way.” 

the right way being with his nose digging into your clit. struggling to breathe properly as wet slick pushes inside, careless as he sucks on your labia folds. tracing your hole until you’re shouting and begging to be filled.

“please please!” your cries shoot pangs of heat straight to his groin, racing up his spine to growl and eat you out like you deserve. 

Jake laps at your cunt like a man dying of thirst, drunk and high off the first taste of your arousal trickling down his throat. grabbing onto your waist, he keeps you in place with his friends help. pushing his wide long tongue as far inside of you as his jaw will allow. expertly working inside along your pulsating walls. 

the two above him praising you for taking it so good, letting them use you so well. all of it too much, especially when the tip of Jake’s nose rubs against a set of nerves that has your toes curling until you hear a crack.

your next orgasm hits you with Jake’s tongue wiggling inside, trapped between your gripping walls; almost feels painful surging you to the point of oversensitivity.

“ca-can’t!” you try to get out, throat dry and raspy after the scream Jake got out of you.

Sunghoon grips your chin, pushing the pad of his thumb against the middle of your bottom lip. “of course you can, this is what you wanted. good girls can take it all.”

Jake’s spewing curses, moving out of the way when Heeseung pushes his shoulder to make him stop. scooting away until he’s next to Jay, waiting for the others next move.

“Hee” you whine, eyes fluttering open in search of your boyfriend. still hazy and rolling from your orgasmic bliss, you reach for him releasing a needy plea. 

Heeseung’s ripping off his clothes at the first syllable of his name pouring from your lips. the camera tossed aside recklessly, nearly toppling to the floor if not for Sunghoon’s eyes bulging out and catching the device in time. the last hour made your boyfriend feel like a captured wolf, locked in a cage as meat dangled before his snout to tease him and make him drool rabidly. tormented, tortured to the point of turning feral.

even with his cock rock hard, dangling mid-air between his thighs and the subconscious voice in the back of his mind chanting for him to fuck you, reclaim what’s rightfully his; he takes his time, cupping your face in his palms to find your wanton gaze.

“my pretty baby, my pretty girl.”

Heeseung steals the gasped breath you let out next, kissing harder than Jay had. luscious lips glide between yours, tantalizing tongue rubbing languidly inside of your mouth. slipping down to grip your nape, his thumbs tease at the columns of your throat, pushing against the veins that stick out the more you struggle to breathe. the more you arch and writhe against him, calling him with your body to mark his territory.

“daddy,” you gasp between intense kisses that further abuse your raw lips. 

Heeseung can tell when you’re just messing around from the lilt in your tone. the more saccharine and woozy you sound, the more you mean it. evident that your mind has slipped beyond reality, into a pit of pleasure that’s numbed your brain from working properly as you keen and repeat his name over and over again.

“what does my pretty baby need?” he asks, husky and warm against your swollen lips. spreading your thighs apart with his knees to settle between your hips. the familiar weight of his thick length nudges against your core, making your pulse rise in speed and circle against the insurmountable heat that radiates off of him, settling a space between your folds.

“inside,” you heave, dropping your head against Jake’s knee, letting out a drawn out exhilarated moan. the tip of Heeseung’s length catches on your entrance, pushing between your center to coat himself in your fresh arousal and spit left behind.

“really think you deserve it?” he says cheekily, working his hips against yours in a methodical pace. enough to glide against your clit and make you keen desperately. whining as your breath lodges in the back of your throat.

“please baby, please.” you beg, running your palms down his chest. swiping against hardened nipples, trailing down to his trim waist. “need you, only you.”

Heeseung wishes he could make you cum like this, too close to losing his last bit of sanity himself, he dips forward, licking away two tears that escape down the side of your face. 

“anything for you, anything.” he quietly mumbles in your ear. pushing up on his palms to line up to your entrance. 

the tip of Heeseung’s dick always feels like too much at first, even after Sunghoon and Jake’s work. he’s thick, a fat girth that stretches your walls apart exactly how you love. pushing your eyes back until nothing but white shows.

his first thrust slams into you, expecting him to stay slow and steady, you’re bounced up in shock. neck gathered in his hands to watch as he fucks into you fast, the muscles in his stomach flexing and contracting with each dip of his cock pushing in and out of you.

“this what you want?” he moans, pressing closer to kiss and nip at your forehead. “want it to hurt so good like this?”

“yes yes!”

you almost forget the three nearby, if not for a loud curse Jay lets out. too lost in the way your boyfriend’s dick glistens with your arousal. burying you deeper and deeper into your bed with each brutal hit of his hips landing against yours.

“my pussy” Heeseung pants, pupils blown wide with his brows knitted together from the amount of strength he uses to keep your head held up. intent to make you watch him fuck you thoroughly like no other can. “tell me who it belongs to, baby?”

“you!” you cry out brokenly, babbling idiotically. “yoursyoursyours, all yours.”

his pace turns relentless at your scrunched up face, viciously burying the entirety of his length inside of you with each thrust until you’re begging again.

“d-don’t pull out! please please don’t! f-fuckk Hee!” your cry breaks, milking his length working in against your orgasm. Heeseung buries inside of you with a slap of his hips landing against you rough enough to snap your back into the bed. arch flattened under the next three powerful thrusts he rams into you with. 

“feel so good for me, so fucking good around my cock pretty baby.” he grits, face dropped by yours. an orgasm hitting him at high speed after waiting for so long, unleashing endless warm spurt after spurt.

Heeseung’s throbbing, still hard, buried deep inside of you. cum pushes out past his size spilling down to his inner thighs. he’s hot, heavy, sticky with sweat against you, sharing staggered breaths between your hungry lips.

Sunghoon lowers the camera to record your faces, the lost dizzy looks passing through both of your expressions. “tell him what you want.”

Jay grunts, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes faintly through your fogged up ears. “you want more right? greedy little cock slut needs to get fucked again and again.”

Heeseung nods, tracing his lips on yours in silent question. canting your hips up as an answer, cream trickles down. filthy and nasty like you’ve always wanted, mercilessly fucked and fucked again and again.

everything more intimate and close despite the live audience hanging off your every moan. your boyfriend’s dick buries in and out of you, slick and covered in your blended release. 

“love you so much” Heeseung whimpers, shoving his forehead against yours. wrinkling at the corners of his eyes as he hits that spot deep inside of your over and over again.

“baby baby” you chant incoherently, locking your ankles around his lower back to keep him in place. grinding circles into you, the tip of his length hits deep and hard, kissing your cervix with each pointed roll of his hips. “g-gonna cum, again.”

he nods, digging big hands under your thighs to fuck you deeper into the bed. whining and grunting as he slams deep inside with renewed vigor, thrusting sloppier and messier, closing in on his own high faster.

wet. hot. thick. long. mind numbing. explosive. 

thoughts leave you with a shout, straining your neck in a twist as another strong orgasm shoots out from the tips of your fingers to each follicle lining your scalp. 

Heeseung loses the last bit of strength he has, screaming through gritted teeth as he fills your cunt with release again. sinking his face into the crook of your neck to bite and suppress uncontrollable sounds of pleasure.

rounds of pained groans and whines fill your ears, drowning out the white noise that’s begun to consume your mind. it’s loud all around you as the three men watching cum into their fisted palms, grunting and moaning, unable to rip their eyes away from your middle pouring out a second load of cum.

Heeseung hovers above you, keeping one of your legs held up while painting your core with the tip of his cock to spread his release. leaving traces of himself all over, the unspoken reminder that you’re his. you belong to him.

coming down himself, he misses the anguished expressions surrounding your bodies. the looks of grimace his friends share knowing they will have to leave with soiled underwear and blue balls.

the guys silently agreed to head separate ways back to their prospective dormitories and apartments, allowing Heeseung to take care of you alone through your post-orgasmic bliss. 

the day had been emotional, long, exhausting in many ways and grueling on your body. your boyfriend did his best to clean you up and change you into a cozy pajama set before cradling you to sleep in his arms.

“Heeseung?” you croaked, throat gravelly and scratchy after all of the voluminous moans you had released.

“hmm?” still mostly asleep, your boyfriend grunts with his face half-buried in a pillow.

“baby, wake up.” you shake him by his arm. “we need to talk.”

upon hearing your serious tone, his eyes flutter open, scrunching his eyebrows together confused. “what’s up?”

“what do you mean what’s up?” you ask, stunned by his lax demeanor. “last night..”

“ohh..” propping up on his elbow, Heeseung pushes strands of hair behind your ear. “was that too much?”

“Hee.. not at all..” 

“what’s troubling you then? tell me.” one thing about your boyfriend, he knows how to speak to you in a way that always makes you feel safe. falling into a docile unthreatening tone that wraps you in comfort.

“are you upset with me?”

the only thing better than a response straight from his lips is the smile you receive. a smile that coats you in a layer of love and consoles you with peace of mind.

Heeseung wasn’t upset in the least, he only wishes you would have let him know sooner that you wanted to explore more sexually. 

“it wasn’t necessarily the perfect approach but I’m not mad.” he confirms, stroking up and down your arm. “I was more worried about you, with the camera and.. audience.”

“I liked it.” you blurt out suddenly, burying your face in his shoulder. “I think I enjoyed that more than I should have.”

“I’ll be honest, I really did too.” 

the two of you share an amused look, sitting up quickly in search of the camera to watch whatever you managed to catch on video yesterday.

Heeseung sets up the HDMI cord to play the footage on your small tv, settling behind your back with his legs draped around your hips as you both ease into a comfortable position and begin to watch.

it’s awkward at first, but the combination of heavy panting and lustful moans have you both weakened in little time. 

“do you like watching yourself?” your boyfriend whispers against your ear, sneaking a pathway down your chest to your stomach. “I liked how desperate you kept gazing into the camera, because you were only looking at me.”

Heeseung’s right, the desperation in your eyes paints the screen in front of you full of carnal desire and love. the mixture of your lips parting open as his groans reverberate through the television speakers, entering you and filling you up, has your core leaking arousal within seconds. 

“touch me..” you start to beg, rolling your neck back to nip and suck along the side of his throat, lapping at the up and down bob that follows. 

Heeseung nods, tickling his way beneath your bottoms inside of your underwear without wasting time to tease you against the outside. 

the image on your television moves as thick fingers press down and circle your clit. Heeseung’s defined forearms are shown, pushing off the bed as he gains speed, thrusting inside of you at a faster pace.

in the background Jake and Jay sit side by side with their hands buried inside of their pants fisting around their lengths dawning half pained expressions. Sunghoon angles the camera more giving a real point of view experience, showing off the bulge moving up and down inside of his pants while encouraging his friend to fuck you harder like you want.

it was euphoric enough to live through once, but watching yourself pounded into by your boyfriend with his friends having to control their own raging arousal has you grinding incessantly against the fingers working in and out of you.

“fuck, Hee,” you whimper, rolling up to match his rhythm. the frenzy around you makes your head spin, shaking as hard as the image on screen does the closer Sunghoon gets to his climax. groans boom from the tv, from your throat, against your ear between praises your boyfriend repeats through your orgasm. “doing so good for me, you’re always so good for me, aren’t you? my pretty pretty baby girl.”

“I love you, love you so much.” breathlessly you chant, turning your head to capture your boyfriend's lips in a heated kiss. footage long forgotten as you recreate the night prior alone.

the air feels stiff around the table Heeseung meets up with his friends during their breaks. consistently hanging out with each other everyday since the semester began, they typically shared warm greetings with shoulder and fist bumps, but after the other day, the aura each one of them carried felt tense; sitting down with barely nodding in each other’s directions as greeting.

“listen,” clearing his throat, Heeseung sits up straight, twisting his hands together timidly. “what happened was.. it was a lot.”

a round of murmurs from his friends sound in agreement, Sunghoon the first to look around and speak up in response.

“are you mad? are we good?”

Heeseung seems dumbfounded, waving off his surprise with a smile. “not at all! guys, I’m happy, like..”

Jake lets out a huge sigh of relief, quickly scooting closer to nuzzle up to his friend's side. “dude, I was so worried all night.”

“no no!” Heeseung throws an arm around him, tugging Jake in even closer. “it’s a good thing, I feel like she’s really comfortable now. I never thought about how much I hold back, or how much she’s been holding back to not scare me off.”

“is she okay?” Jay pipes up, dawning a skeptical expression. 

“oh she’s great.” Heeseung reassures him. “actually, we watched the video.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows shoot up, pouting curiously. “oh?”

“yeah, there is no way we can use any of that for the final, but uh,” Heeseung nods, patting Jake’s shoulder. “you all definitely could have promising careers in filming adult videos someday.”

“I’m not even going to lie,” Jay grins, shrugging. “under a pseudonym I’d totally do it, not a bad paying job.”

“who knows, maybe we’ll end up making more ‘home videos’ on accident.” Jake jokes, half-heartedly. shifting his gaze around the group with a staggered laugh.

Heeseung nods, thinking over how elated and angelic you looked falling apart under the lense; how much you enjoyed rewatching yourself taken on camera.

“maybe we will.”

[cyjhhyj]

CW: smut, voyeurism, M/F. minors DNI.

IB: nsfw link

——————-

Everything sucks.

Mostly this heat, the mosquitoes already sucking at his flesh, and the amount of dust clogged up in the cabin rooms unit preventing any type of breeze.

“This sucks.” Heeseung complains as if he could hear Sunghoon’s thoughts. The sound of his stuffed bag crashes to the rickety hardwood floor, groaning dramatically as he further steps inside. “Bunk beds?! They can’t be fucking serious.”

“Thought we’d at least get our own beds as counselors..” Sunghoon mumbles, dreading that Heeseung will make him sleep on the top bunk as he always has every summer at camp.

“Bullshit man.” The older grumbles, throwing himself down on the beat up old bunk bed, silently claiming the bottom. “This changes nothing though, you know that right?”

This changes none of his friends' original plans to conquest each and every girl attending camp this summer. From the other camp counselors to the eager freshly legal showing off their goods in two-piece bikinis for the first time. It’s the whole reason they agreed to take on counselor roles this time around instead of getting summer jobs at home. 

“I can’t fuck anyone on the top of his bunk dude.” Sunghoon gripes, sweeping sweat off his neck. “This things like a hundred years old.”

“Never stopped you from getting laid before, the floors all yours.”

“Nice.” With a tight lip he climbs up to the top of the bunk, his bed for the next few months. Laying back flat glaring at the ceiling. They couldn’t bring girls back to the boys quarters previous summers, and even if the rules stated the same for counselors, everyone knew those rules have never been followed.

“Good thing you sleep like a rock.” Heeseung adds, getting up to shower. “Gotta make sure I smell good at the bonfire. You coming?”

“Nah, pretty tired after being on the bus all day.” He yawns, shooting a thumbs up. “Probably gonna sleep.”

“Yeah, get some rest bro.” Heeseung snorts, scoffing and shaking his head as he grabs a towel. At least one of them would be getting his dick wet this summer, that’s for sure.

——————-

“Shh shhh, don’t want to get caught, do you?” Heeseung’s playful laugh enters the room, setting down a lantern near the doorway to illuminate the darkness consuming the cabin. 

“Wait, you’re sharing a cabin?”

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal.” He drawls, continuing to tug you in closer and shut the door behind you. 

“But your cabin buddy—what if he snitches on us?”

“Don’t worry about Hoon, he’s fast asleep anyway.” He reassures, leaning you against the door to continue where you left off without the restriction of a blanket over your laps. 

“Hoon? You mean Sunghoon?” You ask fretfully, turning your mouth away from his lips that land on your throat. “Park?”

“Yeah, you remember, my friend.”

Somehow you’d forgotten between Heeseung’s sultry gaze and deep tone laying down sweet words to you in front of the fire. The small touches, grazes of fingertips against your bare thighs, bitten back smiles, the last thing you’d be thinking about is Sunghoon.

Sunghoon who claimed your first kiss 4 summers ago in the woods after a scavenger hunt. The same boy that pretended to ignore your existence the next day and pick on you every summer after. It was always something, from tripping you in the food hall, pulling your hair, dropping a pile of dead bugs on your belongings. He never tried to initiate conversation beyond mocking everything from your laugh, to the way you styled your hair, or even the new shoes you’d be excited to show off before early morning summer hikes.

You knew he was friends with Heeseung, but they weren’t really that close? 

“He’s a heavy sleeper, like a log.” He continues, raising his eyebrows mischievously. “Don’t get shy on me now when you had no problem with my hand inside of your shorts only a few minutes ago.”

They have to know what we’re doing. Heeseung had whispered, smiling against your ear. His fingers smoothing past your underwear to glide between your folds.

“I wanted privacy..” you whisper, allowing him to pin you against the wall and sink to his knees.

“And now we have privacy.” Nipping at your upper thigh, he unhooks the button on your shorts. The lantern covering his face in light and enough of the bunk bed to make out a lump on the top level. “Come on, we’ve been waiting all year for this.”

Heeseung had found you quickly on your way to the camp opening night bonfire, throwing an arm around your shoulders playfully expressing that he missed you. It was all a part of the plan, after scouring the camps forum for hours to track you down after last summer, he hunted down your socials and began planting the seed from there. Always good with conversation and making you laugh, you both fell into flirtatious interactions from there.

It started with selfies, then compliments, until he called you one night mumbling that he really wanted to see you. 

“I’ve been waiting.” He reminds you, pressing feather light kisses beneath your navel, tongue teasing at the hem of your panties. “Don’t make me wait longer.”

You’ve been waiting for this too, looking forward more to seeing Heeseung this summer than your friends from camp. The two of you had agreed to have a lot of fun together his year since it’d likely be your last. 

“Like a log, huh?” You tease, gripping his hair between your digits. “What are you waiting for then?”

“For you to turn around.” He groans, gripping firmly onto your hips to force your front against the wall. Warm thick hands slide up the backs of your thighs, shoving your shorts down to your ankles to bury his face into the crevice where your underwear have bunched up. Breathing in deep, he lets out the most pleased sigh, pushing his hands beneath the soft cotton to cup around your bottom. 

“B-but I wanna see you..” you hiss, arching against his nose pressed between your buttcheeks. 

The sound of feet paddling across the floorboards itches at Sunghoon’s ears, stirring in his sleep to squint open one eye.

“You sound more desperate for cock right now than you ever did over the phone.” That’s Heeseung’s raspy low tone, alerting him to open both eyes as his ears perk up to listen. 

“Hee, come on..” you whine, making Sunghoon’s lips tighten shut to keep quiet as the bed beneath him sinks and the bunk bed structure shakes under him. 

Shit, of course Heeseung brought a girl back the first damn night of camp. And now he has to pretend to sleep through it? Act oblivious to what’s about to happen right under him come tomorrow? 

“You’re dripping wet.” Heeseung says, voice even deeper, coated in a thick layer of lust. Dragging your panties off of your thighs slowly to admire how your messy cunt clings to the material, breaking off connected strings of slick. “Want me to fuck you so bad.”

You let out a little whimper, so ashamed and cute. Sunghoon has to peer down, just to get a sneak peak and see who his friend would be conquering tonight. He can’t resist, you sound too cute, too slutty..

The last face he’d expect to greet him down below is yours, biting down on his lip when he spots your sweat-dampened cheeks, your kiss bitten lips. Fuck, leave it to Heeseung to not only get his dick wet the first God damn night of camp- but with the one girl Sunghoon’s always been weird about, as his friend observed and pointed out the past few summers.

Fucking dickhead would try to fuck you, especially with the way Sunghoon brushed him off everytime insisting it was nothing, he just thinks you’re annoying.

Annoyingly hot, yeah. He had to walk around with his dick pressed up against his stomach all of last summer when you started prancing around in short shorts and bikini tops. 

He can’t look away now, not with Heeseung stripping your minimal clothing off piece by piece, licking inside of your mouth each time you let out a pathetic little sob. Not with your chest fully exposed, stiffened nipples pinched between his friends fingers, cruelly pulling at the hardened buds until tears form in your eyes. 

No, he has to watch. Has to rock his dick against the mattress beneath him. All of his blood rushing down to chubbed up his length when your thighs get pulled open. It’s better than porn, close enough that he can practically smell the heat radiating from your cunt. He salivates watching Heeseung teasingly drag his fingers between your folds, irises blown wide and laser focused on the wet strings of slick that cling to his friends digits. Fuck, you’re a real whore, he always knew.

“Please, please more.” You seriously beg so pretty, making him roll his lower half against the bed desperately. His eyebrows furrow as Heeseung struggles to get two fingers inside of you, you must be so fucking tight. Tight for a slut, he’d have to get you nice and loose before you can take him. Knowing how thick his friend's dick is after years of using communal showers at camp. But if his reputation has any validity, he’ll hardly give a fuck about opening you up properly before slamming his size fully inside of you. Heeseung’s not known around camp for being too rough and mean for nothing.

“Don’t have to beg.” He chuckles, leaning down to lick the drool off your chin. “But don’t stop.” His fingers stretch inside of you, parting your walls open with two to allow a third access inside, patience worn thin after playing with your clit for nearly 20 minutes as camp-goers pretended to not notice. 

“You know I can’t fuck you like this.” He grumbles, forcing you to take three of his fingers, tapping against your engorged clit. “Stop fucking fighting me.”

“Ugh—I’m not!” God you’re so whiny, how can Heeseung stand it? Sunghoon would have covered your mouth by now, shoved your filthy panties inside of there to shut you up. 

“Just like that,” Heeseung mutters, further pushing your cunt open to get his pinky inside. “Opening up for me so good.” 

Fuck, that really shoots to Sunghoon’s dick, grinding his teeth together to keep himself quiet. He watches intently as your pussy struggles to take 4 of his friends fingers, the sight near painful. Stretched to your limits, pussy lips sucked taut around the thick digits that could only look better with his cock in their place.

“S’too much! H-hurts!” You keep panting, head dizzy with your legs kicking out around his hips. The stretch more than you’ve taken before, burning up through your core to your chest. 

“You’re being so loud, want the entire camp to hear you?” Heeseung grunts, pumping his digits in and out of you faster. His palm pressing flat on your mound to keep your writhing hips held down in place. “Cover your mouth baby, or I’ll have to shut you up myself.”

The whimper that cracks through your throat throws Sunghoon’s hips deeper into his bed, quickly clenching his eyes shut to suppress a groan, he blinks fast to calm himself. Fixated on how your breasts bounce up and nearly hit your chin with each thrust of Heeseung’s hand. Forcing your own fingers inside of your mouth to keep down your cries, you blink up, choking on gasped breaths. “Hee..”

Sunghoon’s eyes go wide, raising a finger to his lips as he meets your wild gaze. A silent shush to not expose him, reaching inside of his pajama bottoms to wrap around his length with his free hand. He nods, slowly licking his lips as your neck arches back with a garbled shout and he positions himself for you to watch his hand wrap around his cock, smearing the wet slit down his size, starting off a light stroke.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make a mess.” Heeseung grits, pulling out to land a succession of slaps between your thighs. Hips nearly jumping free from his firm hold on your lower half. “So needy, can’t even hold it for me.” 

“Heeseung,” with your jaw dropped open, you watch Sunghoon jerk off above you. Viscously fisting around his size with a crazed look focused on you. “Please, ahh—please!” 

“What are you begging for?” He tuts, releasing his hold to pinch your clit and jackhammer his fingers inside of your cunt. The wet squelch emitting from between your thighs fills the room embarrassingly loud, pulling Sunghoon’s lips back over his clenched teeth. His nostrils flare, tugging at his cock at an equal pace to grant his imagination the full fantasy of fucking you open himself. “Fuck, come on, tightening up around me so fucking good.”

Heeseung continues to spew praises, taunt you for the puddle of arousal drenching his sheets, lifting his hand to your throat to squeeze on. “Grip that pussy around my fingers, cum for me.”

“Ah, fuck!” Sunghoon groans, twitching against his hand right as your lower half shoots up releasing a stream of clear slick. 

“Ah!” Choking for air, you grab onto Heeseung’s forearm. The rush of your orgasm hitting like a truck, lifting your body into a full arch as wet sounds burst around you. Heeseung’s tongue hangs out, catching trickles of your arousal flying through the air, fucking his fingers deep inside of you through it. Thumb ruthlessly pressed down on your clit, abusing your bundle of nerves side to side until you break into a cry and beg him to stop.

“Pl-please—“ you whimper, shaking through the aftershocks, only to be jolted by his fingers retracting to slap your swollen core. 

“Fuck.” He licks at his lips, raising his slick coated palm to his mouth to lick clean. Between the dark and lust filled fog, he squints above, dropping his head back. “Hoon?”

“Uhh,” Sunghoon squints back, wiping his palm clean against his boxers with a grimace. “Yeah.”

“You fucking pervert.” Heeseung laughs and scoffs. “You’re up anyway.” He teases the double innuendo, cocking an eyebrow. Licking his lips, he hooks a thumb along the hem of his shirt, tossing it aside and stepping back on his knees to push your thighs apart. 

“Heeseung?” You whine shyly, reaching down to cover yourself, unable to close up with his strong hold on your inner thighs pinning you down. 

Sunghoon’s cock thrums, taking in the helpless little flex and pinch your asshole gives, pussy visibly throbbing even in the dim light. Tempting him further to climb down and have his way with you. “Like old times.” His friend adds with a wink. “We can share more than just bunk beds this summer.”

——————-

[cyjhhyj]

IMAGINE GETTING LOCKED IN A LIBRARY'S STORAGE ROOM WITH PARK SUNGHOON WITH NO LIGHT AND LITTLE TO NO SPACE

AHHHHHHHH 😫😫😫😫😫😫

Sunghoon’s on the schedule today.

Great.

Not great actually.

Terrible in fact, anxiety inducing, nerve wracking. It’s not his fault that you can’t handle more than a second of eye contact with him, cursing under your breath when you saw he’d be working in the library with you this semester, you purposely opted for library assistance to avoid human interaction. The rumor that no one wanted to work in the library for extra credits clearly proved false after the first time you ran into him and had no choice but to introduce yourself.

“Aren’t you in my computer science class?” He squinted, teeth poking out near the edges of his lip with a hint of smile. “Yeah yeah.. you usually sit up in front.”

You gulped, nodding slowly in astonishment that he even knew you existed. Couldn’t possibly be because your eyes drag up and down his body every time he enters the room, or because you make an effort to walk slower whenever you need to venture to the back of the classroom, subtly admiring his side profile lit up behind a computer screen.

“Oh, yeah, maybe.” You shrugged, pursing your lips together and quickly mapping out the library for a place to hide.

He’d made it hard from that day to avoid, even going as far as greeting you on his way to the last row of seats in your shared class. 

“Annoying.” You mumble from behind a bookshelf on the second floor, peering down between an empty space to watch Sunghoon push a cart full of returns past groups of girls shooting heart eyes his way. He couldn’t be more oblivious, so nonchalant walking past all of them with his head held high, pausing to read the backs of a few books as he starts on his daily tasks.

“God he’s so attractive.” You whine quietly, glancing around to make sure the areas empty. 

Annoyingly attractive is what he is, walking around so tall and long, skin icy white in stark contrast against his jet black hair, and that stupid sharp adorable smile. 

“Excuse me?”

“Shit!” You jump, head knocking against the shelf you’d been leaned down inside of to peak from.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” A small voice says shyly from behind you. One of the freshmans you recognize stands there pigeon-toed, biting on their nails. “You work here, right?”

“Yeah yeah..” you hiss, rubbing at your head. “Sorry, didn’t think anyone was up here.”

“Sorry for startling you, I’ve been looking for this book for the last hour.” She whispers, stepping forward with her phone outstretched to show you the school’s library website that lists its available to rent out. “I can’t seem to find it anywhere though.”

“Ah, I’ll have to check storage for that one, we haven’t put out the latest shipment yet. Give me a bit, I’ll bring it to the front counter.”

“Thank you so much!” She bounces happily, apologizing about your head before scurrying off. 

It’s your fault for being a creep, spying on Sunghoon like that. Not your fault that he looked exceptionally good today, dressed in all black, hair styled to frame his defined jawline, pronouncing his cheekbones even more.

“Oh..” you stutter a bit, pausing at the storage room door. “What’re you doing in here?”

Sunghoon raises a well groomed eyebrow at you, pink lips tweaking up to one side. “Unboxing the shipment I didn’t get to last time I was here.”

“Oh, right, yeah..” nodding, you kick at the door stopper perched against the frame, head jerking up at the sight of him charging at you.

“No no no!” He sighs, hands thrown up as the door clicks shut. “The door—“

“Huh?” Turning back, you tug at the handle, jerking it only to find it won’t open. 

“Yeah, the locks kind of,” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair causing a few long pieces to fall in front of his eyes. “Hard to jimmy it open, gets stuck really easily.”

“What?!” Panic shoots through your chest, glancing around the small closet sized room you’re now stuck in?? With Park Sunghoon of all people?!?!

“Guessing you don’t have your phone on you either.” He says lamely, leaning back against a shelf. “What’d you come in here for anyway?”

Groaning, you pat at your skirt lacking any pockets, avoiding his gaze clearly moving up and down your body. “Girl out there,” you wave off. “Needed some new book.”

 “You probably hate this.” Laughing under his breath, he slouches against the shelf, fidgeting with his hands. 

“What?”

“Being stuck in here with me.” Sunghoon’s gaze drags up slowly to find yours, chin tilted down. “You tend to avoid me whenever we’re scheduled together.”

“What? No I don’t.” You pretend to laugh, shoving your back to the door silently wishing for it to jerk open somehow. 

He shrugs, head dropping back with his gaze still lowered to watch you. “Did I do something to make you dislike me?”

“I think you’re just—” you can feel the words tumbling out, nearly slurring the more your palms begin to sweat and heat stirs through your gut. “Paranoid.”

Pushing off from the shelf, he strides forward slowly, only a few long steps to end up right in front of you. “Am I making you nervous?”

“Hah—“ swallowing around thick wads of saliva pooling around your tongue, you shake, reaching for the door handle to twist behind your back. Sunghoon closes the space between you, hand finding yours to stop your movement, clasping long fingers on top of yours.

“I think,” he whispers, face lowered closer to yours, lips close enough to trace them with your tongue. “I had you all wrong.”

“Wh-what are you going on about?” You stammer, attempting to slip your hand out of his, only forced to hold onto the handle as he tightens on top of your grip.

“You like me.” Sunghoon grins, licking across the top rows of his teeth. “I would have never guessed..”

“I—“ with a trembling bottom lip, you take a deep breath, head rolling against the door. Gaze flickering across his pretty features from this up close, somehow still illuminated in this dimly lit room. “I don’t—“

“Maybe just a little bit?” His free hand finds your waist, smirk growing larger. 

“A little bit.” You mumble, shocked to hear yourself admit it, even more surprised as he dips in closer and his arm slides behind your waist, pulling your stomach flush to his. The hand covering yours slips down, intertwining your fingers together. 

“Can I kiss you?” He breathes out across your lips, remnants of winter fresh mint tingling with the question. Nodding rapidly, you lunge for his mouth first, throwing your arm around his shoulders to allow your legs to go limp, knees buckling upon crashing your lips together. 

He kisses feverishly, nipping at your bottom lip for entrance, parting through with the long tip of his tongue expertly passing along yours. Seconds escalate to minutes, rocking your hips against his the more heated your kiss turns, freeing your hand from his to grip a chunk of his hair. 

Sunghoon gasps, pulling back to suck down deep breaths with swollen pink lips tantalizing you. “We could have been doing that all of this time..” he chuckles, eyes darting down to your equally pouty mouth. He drags kisses down your jawline, sucking against your chin, murmuring quietly. “Wanna kiss you all over.”

Nudging a knee between your thighs, he arches an eyebrow, asking without asking. Nodding eagerly, you let go of his hair as he slinks down onto his knees and hot palms drag up your thighs right as you reach for the doorknob again.

It clicks under your hand, unlocking. Peering to your side fast, you close it back into place as Sunghoon’s lips start to work up your inner thighs, nibbling and sucking between the trail of kisses searing against your skin.

Getting locked together in the storage room doesn’t seem so bad now.

[cyjhhyj]

Fuck i love this series so much

freak (p. sh)

pairing. sunghoon x female reader

genre. best friends brother AU, smut smut smut, M/F, one shot

warnings. horror film references, dom sunghoon, oral, sensory deprivation, degradation, choking, spitting, biting, rough unprotected sex. minors DNI.

wc. 4600

now playing. Freak//Doja Cat

“What’s your brother been up to? Haven’t seen him around lately.” 

Your best friend clicks her tongue from across the room, long hair flipping away from her shoulders as she snaps to glare at you. “Have you been looking?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sitting up on her bed you return the glare, playfully of course.

“Can’t believe how obsessed you are with my brother.” She scoffs, returning to blend her blush. “You won’t believe it, but he got a summer job.”

“I’m not obsessed with him.” You sigh, flipping through one of the numerous Cosmopolitan issues she has collected. Flipping the corner of a page down with an article discussing exploring new kinks.

“Sunghoon wouldn’t even know what to do with you.” She says, detangling her hair to braid pigtails. “I’m convinced he’s never felt the touch of a woman in his life.”

“He’s harmless, don’t be so mean to him.” Casually scanning the article, you mentally disagree; even if Sunghoon’s more the quiet, stand-offish and observant type, your gut had a feeling he’d know exactly what to do with you. “Where’s he working?”

She snorts, turning to face you. “That’s the best part, little freak got a job at that horror museum downtown. I swear he jumped and kicked his ankles together mid-air when he got the call back.”

“Oh I bet, he loves horror movies.”

She pulls a disgusted face, shaking her head at you. “The way you can list off facts about my brother like some type of Wikipedia page needs to be studied.”

“Shut up.”

She winks, sticking out her tongue before returning to glamming herself up; shooting you a wink. “Freak.”

Summer moves slow without your usual daily excitement of catching sneaky glimpses of your crush.

It’s not like you’re obsessed or anything, it’s also not like you purposely aligned your class schedules to match your best friends for a reasonable excuse to study together for any reason other than working better with assistance. Has nothing to do with knowing she’d prefer to study at her house, where her brother conveniently always is; because as she mutters under her breath ‘he’s such a loser.’

Nothing at all to do with the fact that he was working on remodeling his car the last few months. Definitely not suggesting to study at the kitchen table to be able to admire Sunghoon coming inside covered in car oil and sweat, quietly chugging down water near the fridge while inconspicuously glancing in your direction. 

Plans of hanging around all summer to seduce your best friend’s brother seemed to be on pause now, unsure what your plan even is to begin with anyway. How hard could it be? If rumors have any truth then Sunghoon should be groveling at your feet for a chance.. not that he is, yet.

“Oh Hoon’s bringing the new Scream movie later.” Your friend interrupts your silent scheming, tapping at her phone. “Didn’t you want to watch that?”

“Huh? Oh..” checking the time you note it’s getting late. “Like, when?”

“He just left work,” she nods, locking her phone. “Stay over, we’ll have a horror movie slumber party like old times.”

“Is he gonna watch with us?” You ask, sinking lower against her headboard. She mocks a gagging sound, rolling her eyes. 

“Yes, probably.” Getting up she grabs extra clothes for you, motioning to her closet if you need anything else. “Gonna shower real quick if you want to head down and start up some snacks, I want popcorn.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Sunghoon works late, you think to yourself, peering through kitchen cabinets for snacks he could also want to munch on. Luckily, they are always stocked up with food for the weekends when their parents typically leave town to spend nights visiting other cities now that their kids are old enough to take care of themselves. They made sure to have all types of ramen, chips, candies and popcorn ordered before their weekly summer vacation. 

“Extra butter,” you mindlessly mumble, reaching higher up for a box of microwave popcorn.

“What are you doing here?” 

Sunghoon’s deep voice has you jumping, clutching at your chest and snapping around to grip onto the counter. Heart pounding fast as you look up to see him standing there with one eyebrow raised. 

“Oh my God when…” you sigh, fixing your hair quickly. “I didn’t hear you come in..”

Sunghoon smirks, reaching to grab a handful of chips from the tray of food you’ve set up. “Nice PJs.”

“They’re your sisters..” you mumble shyly, returning to reach for the extra butter popcorn.

“You staying over or something?” Sunghoon sounds bored, monotone even as he chomps down chips. Standing on your toes you swat at the top shelf, keeping yourself steady with one hand as your fingers graze the box of popcorn. 

His tongue clicks from behind you, striding up swiftly to reach over your head and grab the box easily. It’s a quick moment but his lower half presses flush to your backside long enough to feel the heat between his thighs mold between your buttcheeks. The cold from his chest meeting the warmth of your back simultaneously, groin heavy where it nestles between you. 

Taking a step back after a minute of swatting for the box, Sunghoon swallows and licks at his upper lip, setting the popcorn down near your arm. “That’s my popcorn.”

“Oh..” calming yourself, you take a deep breath, shifting to turn and press against the counter when you realize how close he still is. “Sorry, I was getting snacks to watch the movie..”

His eyebrows furrow in question, eyes lowering to scan over your figure, quick enough that if you blink you’d miss it. “You like Scream?”

“What? Of course I do, who doesn’t??”

Sunghoon shrugs, not bothering to move away more, outside chilly air still clinging to his body. “A lot of people don’t like horror films. Which ones your favorite?”

“Uhm..” he’s looking at you apprehensively, waiting to judge your answer. “Nothing tops the original.”

He nods, bottom lip jutting forward seemingly pleased. “Reviews have said this ones really good, I mean.. how many times can they reinvent a new ghost face killer?”

He steps back a bit, as if ready to turn around and drop the conversation, slowly turning to the side cocking an eyebrow at you. “Say.. what’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Like, of all time?” Twisting your legs together nervously you grip at the counter ledge behind you, he hums and nods for you to continue. “Uhm, I guess it’d have to be the original Halloween.” You shrug, noting his surprise. “..but as far as more recent goes, Midsommar is a masterpiece.”

Sunghoon laughs a bit, reaching inside his pocket to pull out a ghost face mask, finger gliding over the white plastic to avoid your gaze. “I preferred Hereditary personally but..”

Taking a step back he continues to nod. “Good choices.” He winks, leaving the kitchen with one plate of snacks in hand before you’re able to respond. The deep breath of air you let out near deflates you, rushing to the bathroom to look over yourself and check your breath before following after him.

“What’s taking so long!” Your friend calls out from the living room, startling you again as you scramble to fill a bowl with popcorn. 

“One second!” Rushing out with a bowl and drinks you come to a halt seeing your best friend spread out comfortably on the smaller couch leaving you left with no choice but to sit next to Sunghoon, his hooded gaze slowly lifts up, tucking his lips in to hide a smile.

“Uhm..”

“You don’t mind right? Need to stretch my legs so badly.” She pouts, blinking innocently and wiggling her feet under a blanket.

“Oh yeah..” gulping, you lower down to sit by her brother, clearing your throat as you settle back and attempt to get comfortable.

He’s changed out of his work clothes, white t-shirt baggy on his chest but fitted on his thick biceps, gray sweats draw your attention lower; fast to avert your gaze away when you catch a glimpse of an outline lifting the material up between his thighs.

“Press play.” Your friend mumbles, phone in hand immersed with her daily lurking, having to go through all of her boyfriend's socials to make sure he’s only up to good.

Sunghoon leans back further, easing into a more comfortable position with one arm resting on the couch behind you. The room is mostly dark aside from the TV light, illuminating his side profile and milky skin tone all the more, biting down on his lower lip as the movie begins, drawing you back to reality, realizing you’ve been staring for too long.

Eyes shift your way curiously, nodding to acknowledge you. “You a screamer?” He whispers, just enough for you to hear.

“What?” Surprised by his question, you pull up your legs onto the couch, Sunghoon using the chance to scoot closer to you and speak into your ear. 

“You scream when you’re scared?” He asks, a heavy husky tone shooting chills down your spine, eyes rolling off to the side.

“Uh, no, I don’t really get scared.”

“That’s too bad.” 

“Huh?” He straightens out, gaze fixated back on the TV ignoring your confusion. The first scene plays out, a blond woman on her phone staring down an alleyway.

“Ah, don’t go in there.” He smiles by your side, speaking softly only to you. “Has she never seen the Stab films?”

Half distracted by his commentary, you jump a bit as the volume rises and the actress on screen proceeds to get stabbed repeatedly by ghost face, shocking you enough to turn your face away and inadvertently hide in Sunghoon’s shoulder. He bounces under you, chuckling and leaning in closer to wrap an arm around your back. “What happened to not really getting scared?” 

“Caught me off guard..” 

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He smirks, pressing close enough to your ear for his lips to brush against your lobe. “I’ll protect you from the boogeyman.”

Sunghoon stays close to you throughout the duration of the film, adding little snarky remarks every time another character falls victim to the killer's plan. “Amateurs, you’d think this entire franchise wasn’t built around the premise of the scary movie cliches.”

Half focused on the movie, you adjust to rest more of your weight against his side, forehead nuzzling into the column of his throat, occasionally squealing and playing into a more helpless damsel in distress to earn extra squeezes around your arm. 

“What would you do if I wasn’t here to keep you safe huh?” He chides, peering toward his sister half asleep on the other couch. “Probably scream until your lungs burst.”

“I’m not a screamer..” you whisper, tilting your head to keep your chin held up on his broad shoulder. “Unless you want me to be.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks coyly, movie forgotten as he dips in to whisper near your mouth. “Want me to make you scream? You wanna play psycho killer with me?” The hidden connotation behind his words has your thighs shifting together, aching between with anticipation.

“Are you the killer?” You question, shifting to whisper into his ear. “Please don’t kill me, I wanna be in the sequel.”

Sunghoon leans into your ear, eyes skirting across to make sure his sister still hasn’t moved. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”

He gets up quickly, glancing at you over his shoulder in a way that implies more without saying anything. After waiting for a few minutes and sitting uncomfortably, squirming in place to appease the wet heat between your thighs; you move ever so gingerly as to not make a sound. The TV volume assists in masking your footsteps leading out into the hallway in search of the bathroom.

“Hoon?” You call out quietly, cursing under your breath at how dark it is, only a bit of moonlight breaking through from the small window at the end of the hall. The bathroom doors half open where you stop to peak inside. Creaking sounds with every step you take, reaching for the door handle to push it fully open. “Who’s there? Sungho—“

Large palms engulf your throat and mouth before you can scream, clasped across your face, a raspy breathy voice cooing against your ear to hush. “Don’t scream, it’s me.”

Without loosening his hold, he knocks against the backs of your knees to press you up against the nearest wall, sharp canines finding the shell of your ear to nibble at. “Don’t be too loud or you’ll wake her up.”

Releasing your neck, his thick fingers smooth down your chest, squeezing one of your breasts along the way, cleaned up nails trailing down to the front of your shorts. “Rule number 1- you should never ask ‘who’s there?’. Don’t you watch scary movies? It’s a deathwish.”

The lines familiar, said in a low toe curling tone meant to instill fear in you. Shoving past the elastic waistband keeping your shorts held up, he cups over your core, a rumbling pleased sound escaping his throat. “Were you planning this? Readying yourself to fuck your best friend’s brother?”

He smacks against your bare cunt, fingers sweeping between your folds as you jerk forward, groaning beneath his hand, jagged edges of his fingernails digging into your cheek. 

“I asked you something.” Pointed eye-teeth scrape along your jugular, licking at the small indentations left behind.

“Yes..”

Sunghoon chuckles darkly on your skin, his nose scrunching up against your cheek as fingers work to spread your arousal around, smearing the mess of wetness around your middle. “What a slut.”

“N-no!”

“Shh shh, not too loud now, don’t wanna ruin our fun.” Plump pink lips litter up and down your throat, his free hand lifting up to grip your chin and force your neck to twist more. “Wanna get fucked so bad don’t you?”

Dim lighting streaks across his heated hooded gaze, nodding your head for you as he dips lower to circle your entrance. Sunghoon’s touch isn’t gentle in the least, instantly slapping your cunt in rapid succession forcing your knees to lock together with a pained yelp, the sound of your wetness splashing against the collision adding more heat in your chest. Whimpering down embarrassed little moans the more he continues to land against your core, wet arousal even reaching far enough to make a mess of the wall your lower half arches against.

“Hoon.. f-fuck.”

“I said shut the fuck up.” He grits, other hand clasping over your mouth before you’re able to let out a shocked fear filled sound. Sunghoon pinches your clit between two digits, panting against your ear as he continues to babble nonsense. “Such a helpless victim, just begging to get caught. You like this, huh? A little fear, getting snatched up and fucked until you cry, groveling for mercy. Will you beg for it?”

He emphasizes by rolling against your bare backside, pajama shorts dropping down to your ankles leaving you exposed to be used and taken advantage of, the idea of Sunghoon hiding in dark corners waiting for you to pass by with a head full of air, drag you by your limbs into a closet and ruin you sets your stomach on fire. Jerking back and forth, you work against his fingers pinching and rolling your clit deliciously, each press of calloused finger pads nudging against a different bundle of nerves. The sensations shooting down to your toes lifting off the floor causing you to squirm back into his hardened length even more.

“What a nasty little whore,” he growls, restricting your head to the side with an unrelenting hold on your mouth, teeth finding a lifted pulsating vein easily due to your excitement. “What would my sister say? Knowing what a slut her best friend is, always hanging out here batting your big puppy eyes at me. Squishing your tits together like I won’t notice.”

Sunghoon laughs against your throat, fingers gliding down between your labia folds to circle your entrance. The amount of wetness pouring out slipping his digits through a mess dribbling down your inner thighs. “Fuck, so wet for me, you want this so bad don’t you? Always coming out to the garage to bother me, bending over the hood of my car asking stupid questions just to show off your fat little ass. Been dreaming about this haven’t you?”

Each filthy incriminating thing he says has your eyes rolling back, neck arched into an awkward stretch the more he keeps you held in place to lick and suck at hot bits of flesh lining your throat, leaving marks behind with every sink of his teeth. The sharp points burn as they bury in hard enough to create indentations, hissing behind the suffocating palm keeping your screams trapped.

Twisting your neck again, his palm falls to your neck tightening around as his lips hungrily devour your parted open pout, tonguing his way in easily. Each gasp you struggle to get out swallowed down by his domineering lips easily taking full control of the kiss with more of a choking squeeze around your neck. “Keep your pretty mouth open for me.”

Two fingers tease at your hole as he presses the back of your head to his shoulder more, the position leaving you vulnerable at his will, mouth dropped open gazing up at him with glossy eyes. Sunghoon’s lips purse together over yours, tongue swishing around collecting a wad of saliva, the first glimpse of shiny clear spit exiting his lips has you choking for air even more. Already struggling to breathe as he slowly spills drool onto your tongue, fingers pushing past the resistance of your tight hole as his spit collects at the back of your throat with yours urging you to gurgle and cough for air.

“Fucking disgusting, such a pretty little thing, nasty cock whore.” He grunts, biting your bottom lip roughly, teeth knocking into yours. “Swallow.”

Patting the middle of your throat, he sneers sadistically, enjoying the first batch of fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Fingers thrusting in and out of you without falter, the width of his palm colliding with your clit the more he works to stretch you out around his digits. Not that it matters much, he could care less if you cry because it hurts.

Sunghoon waits for your throat to bob under his palm, sliding out of you and blurring over your clit with more strength, muscles pronounced with each motion even in the dark. He sinks down leaving you to rest your face on the wall, using the opportune moment to compose yourself and fill your lungs. Sniffling away the tears now making their way past your chin, ending their journey down to your breasts. 

“Remember what I said.” Sunghoon’s palms land heavy on your ass, a string of curses following under his breath. Long fingers knead and squeeze, pulling your cheeks apart to fully expose both of your holes. “Don’t wanna get caught..”

He dips in keeping you held open, the tip of his nose grazing between the crevice of your ass, lips dragging across your rim. “Or do you?”

The cry you let out disappears into the wall, lifting a hand to bite down on as your other supports you from melting down to your knees. Sunghoon’s ears clog up with muddled heat, his sole focus turning to your holes winking at him enticingly, each one barely opening even as his tongue swipes between both nastily. He murmurs below you, shaking the meat of your ass against his face to further drown in your aroused scent. The warmth radiating from between your thighs dizzying him to a brainless empty-headed mess. 

“Hoon..” 

He swipes up and down repeatedly, wetness covering him forehead to chin the more he teases and flicks at your holes. Muffling your own moans, you twist to watch his face of pure ecstasy, half lost between your ass as he pushes in to curl his tongue through the tight ring of your rim. Everything about it sets your back rigged, from his long black eyelashes laid out on his high cheekbones, to the pleasured wrinkle that’s formed between his perfect eyebrows. Raspy groans accompany the slide of his tongue, endlessly digging his strong hands into your asscheeks, firm enough for it to sting.

Sunghoon blinks up meeting your gaze, unhinging his jaw more to swoop past the skin separating your core and rim. Tongue tickling at your slick hole without breaking his focus on your heated face. He finally laps at your entrance akin to a dehydrated animal, slurping the slop of wetness out of your hole with his lips latched around you.

“Oh fuck.” You croon, biting down harder on the inside of your fingers. Cheeks streaked with overwhelmed tears by now, shoving your butt back against his nose to ride each clean sweep of his tongue collecting your wet desire.

Sunghoon shoves in, the thick wet of his tongue combining with the slick coating your walls adding an extra slip for him to push all the way in; out of breath the more you rock down burying his nose into your rim. All of it downright disgusting. The thought of being too loud and getting caught has you rolling down faster, fucking his tongue in and out of your hole in chase of relief. 

Seeming to catch on, he slaps your hips, gripping mounds of meat roughly to jiggle and urge you to set your weight down on his face. Skin gone near completely red, Sunghoon gazes up at you with blazed out eyes, a vein rippling down the center of his forehead the more he struggles to breathe. All of it sends you over the edge right as his biceps wrap around your thighs and he pulls away to spit at your hole. The sick trickle of it has you jerking, eyes rolling up and slapping the wall as a flash of blank minded heat washes down from your skull to your toes.

Sunghoon gasps under the drench of arousal spouting from your cunt, pinching nerves throbbing at the sides of his forehead quickly relieved to receive oxygen again. The thought of dying between your thighs with a happy smile on his face amusing him. 

Moving back up to stand, he loops your waist with one arm, using the other to free his engorged girth from the confines of his boxers, shoving them down past his balls with the waistband of his sweats.  

Sunghoon’s fast to stroke himself, pinching at the head of his length to calm his need to cum already; the tight suction of your cunt around his tongue had him ready to soil himself, cock jumping between his thighs with each trickle of your wetness gliding down his throat. He squeezes at the base for a minute or two, smacking the meat of his length down on just below the dip where your lower back meets your ass. “Want it?”

The sound of his cock slapping heavily on you has your already quivering thighs crashing together, ready to lose your balance on your weak ankles if not for his muscular grip around your torso.

“H-hoon please,” you try to whine louder than you should, gagging as his hand returns to circle your throat again. Sunghoon uses more power to drag your neck back, forcing your ass to jut out more leaving your thighs parted and easy to access. 

“Too fucking loud.” He grits, kissing the sweat off your forehead, cock grazing between your thighs. “Where do you need it?”

“I-inside…inside me, please, Hoon please..”

A growl rumbles off his sturdy chest, licking down your cheek to bite at your jawline, Sunghoon releases your throat only to cover your mouth again. The scream that rips from your chest goes mute under his grasp, thrusting forward with one meticulous thrust until the entirety of his girth manages to stretch past your convulsing heat. “Fuck.” He growls, the bite he holds on your jaw chattering, having to shake away his own need to shout. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

Shutting his eyes, he sighs, hand staying clamped to your lips tightly as he savors your walls gripped around him. The heat of your cunt wrapping him in a dripping wet cocoon of raging heat, each contraction around him drawing the veins lining his size to throb painfully. “So..”

Sunghoon grunts, nipping at your chin, hips pulling back a few inches just to fuck back into you. “Fucking..”

He pants, repeating the movement, pistoning into your backside with a sudden urgency. “Good..”

Already feeling too close to release he’s merciless from the start, fucking into you fast, bouncing your weight against him hard enough to have you jumping up on your toes similarly to a rag doll being tossed around. Sunghoon groans, tucking his bottom lip in a fierce bite to control the volume of his grunts. Cock slamming in rapidly, each virgous snap of his hips more rough than the last.

“You fucking like that?” He rasps, fully pressing your front to the wall to keep you held up. Grinding against the perky top of your ass folding over onto your lower back. The lewd visual of your body altering due to the aggressive nature he fucks you in only seizes his balls up, heavy as they meet your clit with each clap of his pelvic bone digging into your backside. 

Sunghoon doesn’t wait for your answer, knows the pathetic screams lost beneath his hand are enough. The thick creamy gloss coating his length with every draw back more than enough to know how much you love it. The deep arch you stay in, the way your pussy sucks him in more and more with each thrust.

“Fuck, good.” He mutters, hissing between his teeth, his free hand grappling your arms behind your back to handcuff your wrists together. The new position allowing him more control to fuck you like nothing but a whore, just a dirty cockslut desperate to take dick and catch a fat nut.

“Cum for me one more time.” He says between gritted teeth, sloppily nipping your earlobe between rapid skin-clapping thrusts. “Fucking cum.” 

Sunghoon’s throat cracks to not scream, his vocal cords raw from trying to suppress his own need to cry out, face dropping to your shoulder to bite into any exposed flesh as you writhe against him, pussy sucked around his length to an almost painful point. The wetness fucked out of you with each jerky last thrust he gives drenching his balls, smearing between his thighs in such a disgusting vile way.

He can’t help but to fully bite the juncture between your neck and shoulder. A bitter metallic taste mixes  with his saliva as he pumps you full of release, his hand only going lax on your mouth the more he empties inside of you and falls weak. Orgasm fully absorbing his strength for a moment as he licks at the accidentally inflicted wound struggling to regain his barings. 

The whiny whimper you let out has his eyes fluttering open, nodding against your nape before taking a deep breath and slowly freeing himself from your warmth.

“Shh,” Sunghoon’s lips drag against the side of your face panting to catch his breath. Squatting down he picks up your bottoms and tugs them back up over your hips. Turning you around to face him, he cleans up the tear tracks left behind on your cheeks, leaving two soft kisses on each. “You good?”

He smiles, keeping you held up straight with a hold around your waist. “I’m good..”

Sunghoon laughs under his breath, leading you down the hall toward the living room. “You’re kind of..” he pauses, peeking into the room at his sister still sound asleep, the movie credits now rolling.

“Kind of what?”

“A freak...” He grins, patting your butt, eyebrows directing you back to the couch. “Like me.”

[cyjhhyj]

Like A Villain (M)— Patreon Exclusive

part 1: Freak—>

part 2: Scream—>

pairing. sunghoon x female reader

wc. 7.1k

warnings. this is a continuation(can be read as a stand alone), filthy nasty depraved smut, noncon, horror themes, mask use, sunghoon.. being unhinged, branding, knife use, blood, unprotected rough sex, no prep anal, etc

preview—

That was the last time you spoke to each other. The last time you responded to any of his messages. Last time you acknowledged his existence. 

And now it’s been a year of checking your profiles online, eavesdropping on conversations he can hear his sister having with you.

You never come over anymore, never reply to him. Probably didn’t help that he tied you up and fucked you within an inch of your life(mild exaggeration) when you repeated again that you wanted to break-up.

“She was a little out of your league anyway.” Sunoo squeezes his arm, leaning over the front counter. He peers over his shoulder, sighing when he sees that Sunghoon’s going through your photos once again. “Girls like that don’t really date losers like us. Realistically, you wouldn’t have lasted very long.”

Sunghoon shrugs him off, pursed lips dropping at the corners. You haven’t posted once this month. The last photo being of your stupid new boyfriend, the one currently browsing through the Romantic Comedy section.

“We didn’t break-up.”

“Hmm, soo she just ignores you and refuses to meet up with you because she’s playing hard to get or something?”

“No.” He says flatly. Pocketing his phone, returning to sort through the go back’s and organizing them by genre. “We’re seeing other people.”

“Hasn’t it been like.. a year?” Sunoo snorts, turning around to lean back on his elbows. “And who are you seeing? Besides your hand every night.”

Sunghoon continues to ignore him, slowly placing the Scream movies someone returned earlier into order. You always really liked the 3rd installment. It’s too bad that you’d been so stubborn over stupid shit. 

“It’s okay man.” Sunoo goes on, eyes turned up to the ceiling in thought. “You may have fumbled one weird baddie, but she’s one of many out there. You have to move on, it’s October! You can’t waste this time sulking over your ex-girlfriend.”

He squats down, removing Scream 4 from his coworkers hands. Lips sadly pouted out. “Besides.. isn’t that guy over there dating her now? Look, he’s such a jock. Twice the size of you too, imagine he finds out you’ve been stalking her all of this time. A guy like that could rip your head off with his thumb and pinky.”

Read Only On Patreon—>

[cyjhhyj]

scream (p. sh)

Freak—>

paring. sunghoon x female reader

genre. best friends brother AU, smut smut smut, M/F, part 2👻

warnings. horror film references, ghost face sunghoon, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 5000

now playing. Scream//Misfits

smut warnings. cnc, dom Sunghoon, role play, mask kink, degradation, rimming, anal, sub drop, unprotected sex, etc

The mouth-watering scent of melted butter looms around the room as you busily work to multitask and alternate between checking on pizza bakes and Sunghoon’s favorite type of popcorn.

How could you possibly forget the slather of salty clear yellow left behind on his lips after shoving a handful into his mouth, winking at you as his tongue dragged across to lick up the tasty mess left behind, much as he had when..

The high-pitch ring of your cellphone rips you from your thoughts, glancing around quickly and turning the stove fire off with the sound of kernels expanding filling up the kitchen. “Shit.” You mutter, quickly wiping your hands, it’s probably him.

‘Uknown Caller’ stares back at you while your thumb hovers to answer, could just be a scam call.. “Hello?”

“Hello?”

“..yes?”

“Who is this?”

Leaning back against the kitchen island, you frown, not recognizing the voice on the other end of the line. “You called me, who is this?”

“What number is this?”

“Who are you trying to reach?”

“I don’t know.”

Opening and shutting your mouth, you glance around swiftly, turning your attention to the windows. “Hmm, I think you have the wrong number. It happens, take it easy.” Without a second thought you hang-up, uncovering the popcorn you made specially for your date tonight. 

Another blaring ring jolts your heart, lifting onto the balls of your feet before reaching for your phone annoyed. “Wrong number again.”

“No, no, don’t hang up.”

“Why?”

“I like your voice.” He says smoothly, adding a small laugh. “What are you wearing right now?”

“Ugh, they have 800 numbers for that dude.” You say, prepared to hang up again. “Bye.” 

“No no! Wait!”

Sighing, you roll your eyes and look over your freshly manicured nails. “Make it quick.”

“Tell me your name.” He says in a flirtatious tone.

“Why do you wanna know my name?” You giggle, shutting the oven off to let the pizza pockets cool down.

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at.” He says wickedly, making your heart skip a beat as you make a quick spin to glance around.

“What did you say??”

“Uhm,” clearing his throat, he changes to speak in a softer tone. “I said I want to know who I’m talking to.”

“That’s not what you said!” You stammer, quickly running around to check the window locks and doors. “Don’t fucking call me again!”

“Don’t forget the garage door, baby.” 

Fear spikes up your chest, running back through the kitchen to the garage door, too late as it crashes open and a masked figure bursts through with a knife in hand chasing you past the entrance and around the kitchen counter.

“No no! PLEASE DON’T!” You beg, taking a deep gulp, panting hard as you try to catch your breath.. 

The large figure looms closer, knife tightly clutched ready to lunge forward and attack until your cellphone blares throughout the kitchen space again, darting both of your eyes to the device.

“Oh shit, it’s your sister.” You say, reaching for your phone prepared to answer the call until Sunghoon whacks your hand away causing the phone to slip from your hold and land with a nasty thud. “Hoon! You jerk!”

His lack of response continues, only moving in closer until your back meets the edge of the kitchen counter. The mask even more wicked this close-up, barely revealing his concentrated vicious gaze behind the fabric peeled over his eyes.

‘If you break character, I’ll have to punish you.’

Sunghoon chuckled, adding a wink as you discussed and shared a secret fantasy the two of you have in common. Devising a plan to make it come to life after hitting up a costume store together. He nodded to the display holding fake blood, plastic bloody knives and the iconic Ghost Face mask before leaning in to whisper by your ear. ‘What’s your favorite scary movie?’

The fun and games subsided now as he presses in harder, whipping free a dull knife(probably borrowed from his parents kitchen) from his back pocket to press to your throat. 

“I’m sorry..” you plead, tongue-tied and distracted by the thick heat shoved just beneath your navel. His hand lifts, 5 fingers held apart before your wide fear filled eyes as he pushes back and his pinky folds in, signaling you have 4 seconds left to get away.

Scanning for an escape you scram out of the kitchen and look both ways before booking it toward the living room, feet tripping over each other as heavy footsteps come closer up behind you.

“Stop stop!” You shout from one side of the couch, finding your predator barricading the room's entrance with the knife waving before his face in a mocking ‘hello’.

“You want me?” You ask boldly, tiptoeing around as he strides closer, each step nearing the couch escalating the thump in your chest. “My boyfriend will be here soon!! And he’s big!” 

Sunghoon shakes his head, an audible click of his tongue sounding from where he stands nearby, he tugs your discarded phone from his pocket and shuts the device off, throwing it aside to one of the seats behind him. 

Fuck. He’s really thought of everything.

“Fine. What are you going to do.. if you catch me?” You ask teasingly, opting for a new approach as you scurry to stand behind the coach as a shield, sliding from side to side depending on his movement. “Hurt me? Kill me? Choke me and spank me?”

Sunghoon’s head tilts, never once breaking his character, he stops before the center of the couch to run the knife down his chest, white t-shirt rippling beneath the blade.

“Cut me open?” You say curiously, focused on the knife trailing down to the prominent bulge between his hips. “You into that?” Bending forward, for a better view, your ass sways as he sends the knife back up to his chest, forming more wrinkles with the passing motion. 

The knife drags down rougher this time, gasping at the sound of cotton ripping through as he slices down the material of his shirt slowly exposing icy white skin stretched taut over muscle. “Shit.” You mutter, entranced by the blunt tip of the knife skimming up and down the line of hair trailing from his navel down to the hidden area beneath his jeans.

He pauses, turning the knife around to hold the handle out for you to grab. “What? Want me to cut my dress open?” You scoff, receiving a slow nod in return. “No! This is a nice dress!”

Sunghoon takes a step forward with his shoulders rolled back and chest flexed, knees hitting the couch causing you to stand straight. “Sorry sorry… I mean..”

Fiddling with the straps of your dress you look down for a second and take a deep breath, still shy even though you suggested this in the first place. A streak of light from the kitchen lands across his gaze, focused dark eyes trained on your every little move as you push the straps off your shoulders and cup around your chest for the garment to stay put.

Sunghoon tips his chin in, the mask even more sinister at that angle, he nods slowly, making a quick movement to lift the knife before your face and startle you momentarily; but it’s enough time for him to round the couch and crowd in on you, fisting a tuft of your hair before you manage to run off.

“Ahh! No no!” You croon, shoved down over the back of the couch into a bent position. The tough grip on your head doesn’t relent as he runs the knife down your back to the hem of your dress, using it to flare the material up to rest above your ass.

He groans behind you, unveiling your naked already sleek glossy core, forgoing panties in favor of getting fucked faster. “Ahh, no no.” You keep on, twisting your neck back to watch the way he observes, tracing the knife over your ample cheeks. “Please mister ghost face.. not there!” 

Sunghoon smirks behind the mask, turning the knife around to shove the handle between your buttcheeks. “Please, not there! Anywhere but there!”

He groans, pushing lower past your rim to your entrance to tease and poke at the wetness beginning to seep out past your hole. the dollop of slick that covers the handle makes him moan, pulling the knife back to hit your ass with the wet hardwood, erupting shame through your head as he glides it down and leaves a line of glossy arousal down to your upper thigh before the knife clatters to the floor and his knees follow. Setting down with his face hovering just behind your presented ass, he grabs your buttcheeks roughly; strong digits burying into the soft fatty flesh he’s become obsessed with pillowing around his face for the last few weeks. 

“Fuck, ah, please don’t eat my ass!” You whine helplessly, smiling to yourself as you feel him use your thigh to shove the bottom half of the mask up and bite down on the pert roundness leading to your tensed rim.

The first prod of his tongue against the tight little clench of your asshole has you lifting up onto your toes, gripping at the couch under your weight to not kick back as he swirls around the muscles and spits nastily. “Ah, god damn.” You mumble to yourself, biting down on your forearm to keep in a row of moans. You aren’t supposed to enjoy this..

Two digits meet his tongue, working between your heat to lube your hole with the slick dribbling free from your cunt. Burning desire explodes through your stomach the more he uses your own arousal to open your rim up, the more he spits and shoves the mess from his tongue through your clenched muscle.

Sunghoon pants against your ass, his cock rock hard from the phone call alone. The girl of his dreams had been in his sister’s bedroom, giggling over boy bands and celebrity gossip all these years, now face down ass up trying to not cum from the impending thought of having your ass full of his cock soon, very soon.

It’s harder for him to not comment too much on how tight you wrap around his tongue, how fucking good your dirty fuckhole smells covered with spit and slick as he drags down and takes a deep inhale; thighs tremoring against his face nervously. You’re not the best at playing this part, but who cares with his tongue sunken deep between your ass cheeks, sucking the wetness straight from your cunt just to spit it back inside of your asshole and watch you open up for his fingers thrusting in and out. 

“What a pretty hole.” He whispers, the rumble of his tone low, but loud enough for you to hear. Sunghoon stands, dragging his digits up and down through your dripping wet labia folds, his wrist slithering through too with a string of curses emitting as he watches your ass and cunt cradle him; making it harder to not imagine the fat girth of his cock there instead.

“You’re lucky I’d rather split your ass open and not your chest.” He says quietly, looping around your waist to manhandle you down to the floor, pulling your pretty pretty dress off as he lays you down and takes in your breasts pushing up high with each ragged breath you struggle to take. The glaze over your eyes screaming to get fucked, to fuck you like the whore you are.

Sunghoon tugs the mask back down to cover his chin, not bothered by the slick still painted over his lips and jaw. Ripping off the rest of his cut t-shirt, he looks like something straight out of one of your most depraved fantasies perched between your parted legs, jamming his clothed crotch to press flush to your core. His greedy hands run up your stomach, kneading your breasts as he seeks your neck and clasps his hands around with a firm squeeze, stealing your next breath.

“H-hoon—“ you croak, reaching for his wrists as he tightens and presses down on your windpipe. Jean covered cock rutting against your swelled pussy, further cementing how desperate you are to get fucked as you lift to roll back and feel the friction against your clit. “Fuck yes.”

It’s impossible to keep up the act the more you get lost to the pleasure, the boiling heat scorching up from between your thighs to your head. Sunghoon growls upon hearing his name moaned out, furiously pressing against your jugular until you slap at his forearms and let out a pathetic sob.

Loosening the hold, he glides down your torso, flicking your stiff nipples along the way to grip your hips roughly and hoist your lower half up, wrapping his biceps around your body to keep the backs of your thighs pressed to his chest as he leans in and rubs your cunt against the mask.

“Fuck!” The sight above you has your eyes rolling up, smacking at the floor around you as he lowers you back down and whips a strike of his palm right along your slit, making your hips jump up and down to run and chase the sensation all at once. Every action grows more delirious from there, fast to shove and kick his bottoms off as he sets your butt on his upper thighs and his length lands where it belongs, laid flat against both of your holes. He watches intently as each vein pulse’s viscously, more hungry to fuck you than he even realized throughout this game. 

“Look at you.” He voices, harsh and strained. “So desperate for cock, you’re practically begging for me to fuck your ass.” His head tilts again at that evil practiced angle, admiring the shame washing down your pretty features, overwhelming your capability to breathe properly as your back arches and you give him a sad little nod. 

Sunghoon cooes, inching back until the large blunt tip of his length rests against your rim, beating faster and harder than your own heartbeat. He drags the wet head around your asshole teasingly, just to watch you squirm and squeal out anxious tiny whimpers. “Is that what you want? Should I fuck your ass?” 

With another nudge against your hole, you nod eagerly, teeth chattering together in anticipation. “Please.. fuck my ass.”

Sunghoon smiles behind the mask, slowly entering past your clenched muscle, earning a muffled cry as your lips purse together. The position he keeps you at isn’t the most comfortable, but mind-numbing nonetheless, having an up close viewing of his cock pushing in inch by inch, forcing the skin wrapped around his thick girth to accommodate the new sheer massive size you’ve never experienced before.

His hips meld to your ass, fully sheathed inside, panting heavily under the thin cloth covering his mouth. He whistles lowly, pausing to take in how fucking stretched you are around his cock as his fingers reach to rub and swipe around the pulled skin kissing around him. “Fuck, what would your boyfriend say?” He emphasizes by pulling back enough for half of his length to be seen, thrusting back in as slow as possible to make it all the more torturous. “If he saw you like this? Fucked up the ass, pussy wet as fuck.”

His hips snap forward roughly, jamming every bit of his girth in and back out, gaining speed with each movement. “Getting fucked in the ass is for stupid fuck whores..” he says with a hard snap of his lower half meeting yours, ass met with bruising hits of muscle and bone. “With pussys too useless and loose to even bother fucking.”

The mean-spirited intent entwined in his speech has your mind spiraling away, feeling split open more and more by each meticulous thrust meant to push your hole open until he can bury in balls deep. Sunghoon curses loudly, slapping your hips to pay attention and watch his length retreat out to the tip only to bury back in mercilessly.

Ram after ram of his hips solidifies just how fucking full you are, gazing through hooded tired eyes at his cock plunging in and out, wet by the consistent drip pushed from your cunt, passing down past the crevice of your ass making a slick mess of wet between his thighs as well. 

Sunghoon nearly pulls out completely as he repositions himself, searching for the pits of your knees to shove them down against your shoulders as he mounts you and fully pushes back in. The stretch reminds you of how raw and bare all of this is, nothing between you to separate his cockhead from pressing through your ring of muscle. “So fucking wet.” He grunts, peering down between your crushed together limbs where your empty cunt shines under a heavy layer of slick. “So fucking wet from getting your ass torn open huh? What a good slut.”

He manages to snake one of his hands to your cunt, hips jumping under his weight desperately as your body begs to be touched just once. Clit hard as a rock as he softly grazes past the bundle of sensitive nerves to sink lower toward your pussy hole.

Silently pleading for more, you tiredly hook around your knees to keep yourself in place and free his hands, pussy opening up as you bite down a cry and ask between grinding teeth to be touched. “Please! I’m a dumb slut! Fuck me hard!”

Sunghoon’s pace falters, swallowing down a curse before picking up again into a much more brutal speed. His sight goes blurry for a moment, landing a slap down on your cunt before two fingers slink through the heat of your pussy. “Such a whore.”

His hips snap at a backbreaking speed, pushing you up against the floor roughly as he rushes to fuck you like nothing but a used up cocksleeve. Two fingers attempting to chase and fuck your pussy just as fast despite how fuzzy his mind gets with each addicting suck your ass gives around his cock.

Sunghoon’s digits hit deep, the tips pressed up against your cervix at this angle, buckling under the ruthless pumps as he stills buried deep inside your ass. It builds and builds, from the tension gathered at the tail end of your spine and the swelled flesh gripped around his fingers, you can’t control the jump from your hips. Rucking up just to feel the burning stretch, to chase the friction against your bundle of nerves trapped beneath his piercing thumb.

“H-hoon, s’too—“ you slur, eyes lit up in flames as they shoot wide open and your throat feels constrained even without long fingers wrapped around you anymore. The invisible weight of his grip remains, collapsing your chest as you suck in for a deep breath and see nothing but white. “S’too—much!”

Sunghoon pinches your clit again, the bite on your tongue turns useless as you let out a broken scream. He’s filling up your ass so good, pushing your orgasm to the coil up faster with each ramped thrust. “Need t-to cum, I’m g-gonna cum.” Breath evades your lungs, head spinning the more you try to hold back, wanting him to flood your hole before you reach your own peak of pleasure.

Sunghoon fails to answer, drawing back to land a ruthless wet slap down on your cunt. Two middle fingers sink in past your convulsing hole, forcing his pinky and index fingers alongside the foreboding stretch down to his first knuckle. They press flush to your pussy, the heel of his palm landing smacked dab against your clit at the same time that his cock pushes in your ass to the brim. With buried fingers he wiggles against the flesh stretched around his cock, pushing against the walls of your pussy until you let out a heart wrenching sob and balled fists hit the floor around you.

“You know who cums from getting their ass fucked like this?” His pace picks up again, matching the rhythm of his digits to his cock before pulling free to slap your pussy once more. “Getting fucked up the ass like nothing but a common used filthy slut.” 

Without really taking in anything he’s saying through the muffled speech playing from behind the ghost face mask, you nod, over and over again. Thoughtless to the teasing thumb finding your sensitive clit again to rub figure eights over.

“I’m a s-slut!” You wail out mindlessly, back arching up until Sunghoon leans down with your legs braced upon his shoulders. Burly biceps bracket your head, snapping his hips into merciless action. The wet clap of his pelvic muscle against the fat of your ass resounds through the living room loud enough to rush blood up your face, consumed by the embarrassment and just how loose you are now. His cock slides in so easily now, so fucking good, reiterating with each seathing pass through your hole just what a god damn slut you are.

“I’m such—such a dumb slut!” You say right as a prickle hits the back of your eyes, blinking rapidly to subdue the tears ready to river out. Sunghoon’s pace turns erratic, breath quickened with eyes laser focused on your disoriented expression. “I’m—I’m just a hole.” You weep, chest caved in by your next breath. “Please, please, I’m cum—“

Sunghoon’s stomach wrenches, body locked up by the unrelenting suctioning grip around his cock, unable to pull himself out even an inch as you cum and a splash of slick smacks under his navel. “What a good fucking slut..” he says between ragged breaths, resisting the damning urge to force his length past your climax to chase his own.

The wet droplets hit your cheeks before you even realize tears have run down from your eyes, completely bewildered and blinded by your mind going blank as intense orgasm hits every tip from your fingers down to your toes, curled where they hang above you with Sunghoon’s weight crushing you under the mating press position, cock shoved deep inside rutting against the fat of your ass to savor the clamp of maddening heat closed around him.

The whimper that rips from your chest has his masked face peering up, coming to a complete stop upon finding your blazed gaze turned toward the ceiling and tears springing rapidly down your cheeks.

“Hey hey,” Sunghoons sheds the mask off quickly, his flawless skin coated in a glisten of sweat that highlights each curve and chiseled bone, making him appear even more God-like above you. Stilling his ministrations, he dips forward to cup your face and turn your watery gaze back to him, too dazed to fully register that he’s even stopped with each passing throb rippling up from your core through your gut. “What’s going on? You okay?” 

A stifled helpless cry runs through your lips, cheek falling into his palm for comfort as another wound of tears pour down your cheeks from the overwhelming continuous surge of pleasure panging through your limbs. “Hoon..”

Letting out a sigh of relief he adjusts to take pressure off your upper back, allowing your thighs to drape down around his sides as he slowly eases himself free, biting down a hiss. “Was I too rough?”

Shaking your head, you can’t help but to feel needy and vulnerable, especially with your hole gaped open squeezing around nothing. “Hold me..” you whine, weakly lifting your palms to open and shut. The vision has Sunghoon’s throat jumping, stroking up the sides of your thighs with the tips of his blunt nails before guiding his hips to lay between your parted legs, hard pulsating cock nudged up against your core.

“Want me?” He asks in a low whisper, reaching to position his length between your swollen heat, snuggly fitting his thick girth tight with your flushed pussy squeezed around him. “Did I hurt you?”

His lack of confidence with regaining movement makes your chest inflate, scurrying to scrape your nails over his defined shoulders as you shake your head. “Good, felt t-too good.”

“Had me worried.” He mumbles, pressing a light kiss to your chin. “So sexy how you came just like that..”

“Please, gimme more..” the wanton little way you ask rips heat through Sunghoon’s lower back, hips jerking forward to rut his length up and down between your slit, the tip bumping and rubbing along your engorged clit menacingly.

“You’ll make me crazy—“ he groans, hand slinking down between your pressed bodies to grip around his cock and tease the tip through your wetness. “—talking like that.”

“S-so big, feel so open,” you keep whining, snaking around his neck to tangle your fingers through the sweaty hair lining his nape. “Never f-felt so stretched.”

“Fuck.” Sunghoon growls, tapping at your entrance repeatedly, abdomen locked tight indenting each muscle lined up to his chest. “W-wanna cum.. on your gaped hole.”

“Please, please give me—that,” your neck bows upward, throat on display gleaming with a heavy layer of sweat, beads trickling down between your bouncing breasts.

Sunghoon huffs, knees rutting against the hardwood floor hard enough to blossom red marks upon his skin to find later. He glides through the wet thick between your pussy again and again, shooting the arousal to spark out around his length and soak your inner thighs in the mess. “Yeah? Tell me, wanna hear y-you say it, ask for it.”

Shifting to grip around your thighs, he hoists your butt up again, the bulbous tip of his cock piercing through your stretched rim with ease; stroking in and out just to watch it disappear and edge himself further. “Ask for it.” He growls again, ordering with a firm slap to your thigh.

“Ah! Hoon!“

“Don’t make me repeat myself again.” Another strike stings across your upper thigh, clenching together from the impact sending a shot of nerves up Sunghoon’s cock.

“Please—cum all over my ass.”

A low rumbled groan emits from his chest, keeping you held up with one flexed bicep curled around your thigh, gripping at the base of his length to squeeze down to the middle of his cock. The head throbs between your ass, jerking the rest of his girth off until his balls finally squeeze up tight between his legs, lips curled in with sharp eyebrows furrowed together in anguish as the first shot of release jumps free.

“Oh—fuck,” he grits, teeth biting down on his tucked in bottom lip as he tugs harshly at his size, eyes wide and struck by the streaks of white blown across your hole, some dripping down to your unused pussy, drawing another round of cum to spill out and paint your ass in nothing but creamy white.

“So warm..” you moan, eyes rolling up as you can feel yourself clench around the bubbling arousal trickling through the cavern of your asshole, warm and sticky on the slide down. 

Sunghoon groans long and loud, having to clench his eyes shut to stop himself from plunging his cock back in and out of you one more time just to watch his cum seep out around the expanse of his length pushing you to your limits. “Liked that didn’t you.” He states more than asking, grasping the base of his size to cool the incessant need to feel your suffocating heat one more time.

“Did really good for me.” He says, cupping under your knees to haul your legs open and bite at the inside of your thigh, sending your ribcage up as your back lifts from the floor with a moan. “Wish you could see how good it looks.” He mutters against your soft flesh, lapping down to your upper inner thigh for a closer look of his cum dripping from your hole to the floor. “How fucking nasty your hole looks, fucked raw like a no good filthy whore.”

His lips confuse the humiliation crashing down like brutal waves, distracting you as he bites along the juncture where your thigh meets groin, burying his teeth down deep enough to sprout a trickle of blood. The mumble of his on-going degradation hardly affects you, more turned on by his deep rasp vibrating between your thighs and shocked by his tongue passing over the cum that's nearly dried up between your pussy folds.

Sunghoon kisses up your thighs over the teeth marks left behind, met with a coppery taste as he licks at the now deep sharp indentations. The jagged edges of his canines scrap across your skin every now and then, jolting shivers up your chest and halting your breath. He works a path of tender kisses and nips up past your mound, taking extra time to suck blood up to the surface along your hip bones and waist as he makes way to your breasts and watches you with fierce intent while rolling your hardened nipple along his tongue, sucking it to press against the roof of his mouth.

“Did I make you cry?” Sunghoon frowns, seeming genuinely concerned. Having to pry his lips away from your nipples to gently sweep his thumbs across your cheeks to clean away the remnants of dry and fresh tears. Even if you look extra pretty and make his heart skip the more salty wetness gathers at your waterline.

“Yes—but not you. Made me feel too good.. you’re supposed to scare me..” you say, cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

“I told you I’d protect you from the boogeyman, even if I am the boogeyman.” Sunghoon grins, chasing your lips for a kiss. “Can’t lie and say I don’t like to hear you scream and watch you cry though..”

“So, next time—“

“Next time?” Sunghoon’s eyes light up, cupping the back of your head to brush his lips down the bridge of your nose. “Already planning for next time?”

“Next timeee,” you say coyly, shoving his shoulders away to turn your bodies over together and press his back to the floor. “I’ll chase you.”

Sunghoon’s lips pout, eyebrows raised curiously. “What? Wanna make me scream?” He says with a wicked glint behind his gaze, smoothing up your hips to hold your waist firmly. “Think you can catch me?”

“We need a trilogy.” You wink, scratching down his pale chest.

“Trilogy?”

“That’s right. It’s a rarity in the horror field, but it does exist.” You quote, tickling up to his throat to cuff your hands around. “And it is a force to be reckoned with.”

[cyjhhyj]

freak (p. sh)

pairing. sunghoon x female reader

genre. best friends brother AU, smut smut smut, M/F, one shot

warnings. horror film references, dom sunghoon, oral, sensory deprivation, degradation, choking, spitting, biting, rough unprotected sex. minors DNI.

wc. 4600

now playing. Freak//Doja Cat

“What’s your brother been up to? Haven’t seen him around lately.” 

Your best friend clicks her tongue from across the room, long hair flipping away from her shoulders as she snaps to glare at you. “Have you been looking?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sitting up on her bed you return the glare, playfully of course.

“Can’t believe how obsessed you are with my brother.” She scoffs, returning to blend her blush. “You won’t believe it, but he got a summer job.”

“I’m not obsessed with him.” You sigh, flipping through one of the numerous Cosmopolitan issues she has collected. Flipping the corner of a page down with an article discussing exploring new kinks.

“Sunghoon wouldn’t even know what to do with you.” She says, detangling her hair to braid pigtails. “I’m convinced he’s never felt the touch of a woman in his life.”

“He’s harmless, don’t be so mean to him.” Casually scanning the article, you mentally disagree; even if Sunghoon’s more the quiet, stand-offish and observant type, your gut had a feeling he’d know exactly what to do with you. “Where’s he working?”

She snorts, turning to face you. “That’s the best part, little freak got a job at that horror museum downtown. I swear he jumped and kicked his ankles together mid-air when he got the call back.”

“Oh I bet, he loves horror movies.”

She pulls a disgusted face, shaking her head at you. “The way you can list off facts about my brother like some type of Wikipedia page needs to be studied.”

“Shut up.”

She winks, sticking out her tongue before returning to glamming herself up; shooting you a wink. “Freak.”

Summer moves slow without your usual daily excitement of catching sneaky glimpses of your crush.

It’s not like you’re obsessed or anything, it’s also not like you purposely aligned your class schedules to match your best friends for a reasonable excuse to study together for any reason other than working better with assistance. Has nothing to do with knowing she’d prefer to study at her house, where her brother conveniently always is; because as she mutters under her breath ‘he’s such a loser.’

Nothing at all to do with the fact that he was working on remodeling his car the last few months. Definitely not suggesting to study at the kitchen table to be able to admire Sunghoon coming inside covered in car oil and sweat, quietly chugging down water near the fridge while inconspicuously glancing in your direction. 

Plans of hanging around all summer to seduce your best friend’s brother seemed to be on pause now, unsure what your plan even is to begin with anyway. How hard could it be? If rumors have any truth then Sunghoon should be groveling at your feet for a chance.. not that he is, yet.

“Oh Hoon’s bringing the new Scream movie later.” Your friend interrupts your silent scheming, tapping at her phone. “Didn’t you want to watch that?”

“Huh? Oh..” checking the time you note it’s getting late. “Like, when?”

“He just left work,” she nods, locking her phone. “Stay over, we’ll have a horror movie slumber party like old times.”

“Is he gonna watch with us?” You ask, sinking lower against her headboard. She mocks a gagging sound, rolling her eyes. 

“Yes, probably.” Getting up she grabs extra clothes for you, motioning to her closet if you need anything else. “Gonna shower real quick if you want to head down and start up some snacks, I want popcorn.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Sunghoon works late, you think to yourself, peering through kitchen cabinets for snacks he could also want to munch on. Luckily, they are always stocked up with food for the weekends when their parents typically leave town to spend nights visiting other cities now that their kids are old enough to take care of themselves. They made sure to have all types of ramen, chips, candies and popcorn ordered before their weekly summer vacation. 

“Extra butter,” you mindlessly mumble, reaching higher up for a box of microwave popcorn.

“What are you doing here?” 

Sunghoon’s deep voice has you jumping, clutching at your chest and snapping around to grip onto the counter. Heart pounding fast as you look up to see him standing there with one eyebrow raised. 

“Oh my God when…” you sigh, fixing your hair quickly. “I didn’t hear you come in..”

Sunghoon smirks, reaching to grab a handful of chips from the tray of food you’ve set up. “Nice PJs.”

“They’re your sisters..” you mumble shyly, returning to reach for the extra butter popcorn.

“You staying over or something?” Sunghoon sounds bored, monotone even as he chomps down chips. Standing on your toes you swat at the top shelf, keeping yourself steady with one hand as your fingers graze the box of popcorn. 

His tongue clicks from behind you, striding up swiftly to reach over your head and grab the box easily. It’s a quick moment but his lower half presses flush to your backside long enough to feel the heat between his thighs mold between your buttcheeks. The cold from his chest meeting the warmth of your back simultaneously, groin heavy where it nestles between you. 

Taking a step back after a minute of swatting for the box, Sunghoon swallows and licks at his upper lip, setting the popcorn down near your arm. “That’s my popcorn.”

“Oh..” calming yourself, you take a deep breath, shifting to turn and press against the counter when you realize how close he still is. “Sorry, I was getting snacks to watch the movie..”

His eyebrows furrow in question, eyes lowering to scan over your figure, quick enough that if you blink you’d miss it. “You like Scream?”

“What? Of course I do, who doesn’t??”

Sunghoon shrugs, not bothering to move away more, outside chilly air still clinging to his body. “A lot of people don’t like horror films. Which ones your favorite?”

“Uhm..” he’s looking at you apprehensively, waiting to judge your answer. “Nothing tops the original.”

He nods, bottom lip jutting forward seemingly pleased. “Reviews have said this ones really good, I mean.. how many times can they reinvent a new ghost face killer?”

He steps back a bit, as if ready to turn around and drop the conversation, slowly turning to the side cocking an eyebrow at you. “Say.. what’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Like, of all time?” Twisting your legs together nervously you grip at the counter ledge behind you, he hums and nods for you to continue. “Uhm, I guess it’d have to be the original Halloween.” You shrug, noting his surprise. “..but as far as more recent goes, Midsommar is a masterpiece.”

Sunghoon laughs a bit, reaching inside his pocket to pull out a ghost face mask, finger gliding over the white plastic to avoid your gaze. “I preferred Hereditary personally but..”

Taking a step back he continues to nod. “Good choices.” He winks, leaving the kitchen with one plate of snacks in hand before you’re able to respond. The deep breath of air you let out near deflates you, rushing to the bathroom to look over yourself and check your breath before following after him.

“What’s taking so long!” Your friend calls out from the living room, startling you again as you scramble to fill a bowl with popcorn. 

“One second!” Rushing out with a bowl and drinks you come to a halt seeing your best friend spread out comfortably on the smaller couch leaving you left with no choice but to sit next to Sunghoon, his hooded gaze slowly lifts up, tucking his lips in to hide a smile.

“Uhm..”

“You don’t mind right? Need to stretch my legs so badly.” She pouts, blinking innocently and wiggling her feet under a blanket.

“Oh yeah..” gulping, you lower down to sit by her brother, clearing your throat as you settle back and attempt to get comfortable.

He’s changed out of his work clothes, white t-shirt baggy on his chest but fitted on his thick biceps, gray sweats draw your attention lower; fast to avert your gaze away when you catch a glimpse of an outline lifting the material up between his thighs.

“Press play.” Your friend mumbles, phone in hand immersed with her daily lurking, having to go through all of her boyfriend's socials to make sure he’s only up to good.

Sunghoon leans back further, easing into a more comfortable position with one arm resting on the couch behind you. The room is mostly dark aside from the TV light, illuminating his side profile and milky skin tone all the more, biting down on his lower lip as the movie begins, drawing you back to reality, realizing you’ve been staring for too long.

Eyes shift your way curiously, nodding to acknowledge you. “You a screamer?” He whispers, just enough for you to hear.

“What?” Surprised by his question, you pull up your legs onto the couch, Sunghoon using the chance to scoot closer to you and speak into your ear. 

“You scream when you’re scared?” He asks, a heavy husky tone shooting chills down your spine, eyes rolling off to the side.

“Uh, no, I don’t really get scared.”

“That’s too bad.” 

“Huh?” He straightens out, gaze fixated back on the TV ignoring your confusion. The first scene plays out, a blond woman on her phone staring down an alleyway.

“Ah, don’t go in there.” He smiles by your side, speaking softly only to you. “Has she never seen the Stab films?”

Half distracted by his commentary, you jump a bit as the volume rises and the actress on screen proceeds to get stabbed repeatedly by ghost face, shocking you enough to turn your face away and inadvertently hide in Sunghoon’s shoulder. He bounces under you, chuckling and leaning in closer to wrap an arm around your back. “What happened to not really getting scared?” 

“Caught me off guard..” 

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He smirks, pressing close enough to your ear for his lips to brush against your lobe. “I’ll protect you from the boogeyman.”

Sunghoon stays close to you throughout the duration of the film, adding little snarky remarks every time another character falls victim to the killer's plan. “Amateurs, you’d think this entire franchise wasn’t built around the premise of the scary movie cliches.”

Half focused on the movie, you adjust to rest more of your weight against his side, forehead nuzzling into the column of his throat, occasionally squealing and playing into a more helpless damsel in distress to earn extra squeezes around your arm. 

“What would you do if I wasn’t here to keep you safe huh?” He chides, peering toward his sister half asleep on the other couch. “Probably scream until your lungs burst.”

“I’m not a screamer..” you whisper, tilting your head to keep your chin held up on his broad shoulder. “Unless you want me to be.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks coyly, movie forgotten as he dips in to whisper near your mouth. “Want me to make you scream? You wanna play psycho killer with me?” The hidden connotation behind his words has your thighs shifting together, aching between with anticipation.

“Are you the killer?” You question, shifting to whisper into his ear. “Please don’t kill me, I wanna be in the sequel.”

Sunghoon leans into your ear, eyes skirting across to make sure his sister still hasn’t moved. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”

He gets up quickly, glancing at you over his shoulder in a way that implies more without saying anything. After waiting for a few minutes and sitting uncomfortably, squirming in place to appease the wet heat between your thighs; you move ever so gingerly as to not make a sound. The TV volume assists in masking your footsteps leading out into the hallway in search of the bathroom.

“Hoon?” You call out quietly, cursing under your breath at how dark it is, only a bit of moonlight breaking through from the small window at the end of the hall. The bathroom doors half open where you stop to peak inside. Creaking sounds with every step you take, reaching for the door handle to push it fully open. “Who’s there? Sungho—“

Large palms engulf your throat and mouth before you can scream, clasped across your face, a raspy breathy voice cooing against your ear to hush. “Don’t scream, it’s me.”

Without loosening his hold, he knocks against the backs of your knees to press you up against the nearest wall, sharp canines finding the shell of your ear to nibble at. “Don’t be too loud or you’ll wake her up.”

Releasing your neck, his thick fingers smooth down your chest, squeezing one of your breasts along the way, cleaned up nails trailing down to the front of your shorts. “Rule number 1- you should never ask ‘who’s there?’. Don’t you watch scary movies? It’s a deathwish.”

The lines familiar, said in a low toe curling tone meant to instill fear in you. Shoving past the elastic waistband keeping your shorts held up, he cups over your core, a rumbling pleased sound escaping his throat. “Were you planning this? Readying yourself to fuck your best friend’s brother?”

He smacks against your bare cunt, fingers sweeping between your folds as you jerk forward, groaning beneath his hand, jagged edges of his fingernails digging into your cheek. 

“I asked you something.” Pointed eye-teeth scrape along your jugular, licking at the small indentations left behind.

“Yes..”

Sunghoon chuckles darkly on your skin, his nose scrunching up against your cheek as fingers work to spread your arousal around, smearing the mess of wetness around your middle. “What a slut.”

“N-no!”

“Shh shh, not too loud now, don’t wanna ruin our fun.” Plump pink lips litter up and down your throat, his free hand lifting up to grip your chin and force your neck to twist more. “Wanna get fucked so bad don’t you?”

Dim lighting streaks across his heated hooded gaze, nodding your head for you as he dips lower to circle your entrance. Sunghoon’s touch isn’t gentle in the least, instantly slapping your cunt in rapid succession forcing your knees to lock together with a pained yelp, the sound of your wetness splashing against the collision adding more heat in your chest. Whimpering down embarrassed little moans the more he continues to land against your core, wet arousal even reaching far enough to make a mess of the wall your lower half arches against.

“Hoon.. f-fuck.”

“I said shut the fuck up.” He grits, other hand clasping over your mouth before you’re able to let out a shocked fear filled sound. Sunghoon pinches your clit between two digits, panting against your ear as he continues to babble nonsense. “Such a helpless victim, just begging to get caught. You like this, huh? A little fear, getting snatched up and fucked until you cry, groveling for mercy. Will you beg for it?”

He emphasizes by rolling against your bare backside, pajama shorts dropping down to your ankles leaving you exposed to be used and taken advantage of, the idea of Sunghoon hiding in dark corners waiting for you to pass by with a head full of air, drag you by your limbs into a closet and ruin you sets your stomach on fire. Jerking back and forth, you work against his fingers pinching and rolling your clit deliciously, each press of calloused finger pads nudging against a different bundle of nerves. The sensations shooting down to your toes lifting off the floor causing you to squirm back into his hardened length even more.

“What a nasty little whore,” he growls, restricting your head to the side with an unrelenting hold on your mouth, teeth finding a lifted pulsating vein easily due to your excitement. “What would my sister say? Knowing what a slut her best friend is, always hanging out here batting your big puppy eyes at me. Squishing your tits together like I won’t notice.”

Sunghoon laughs against your throat, fingers gliding down between your labia folds to circle your entrance. The amount of wetness pouring out slipping his digits through a mess dribbling down your inner thighs. “Fuck, so wet for me, you want this so bad don’t you? Always coming out to the garage to bother me, bending over the hood of my car asking stupid questions just to show off your fat little ass. Been dreaming about this haven’t you?”

Each filthy incriminating thing he says has your eyes rolling back, neck arched into an awkward stretch the more he keeps you held in place to lick and suck at hot bits of flesh lining your throat, leaving marks behind with every sink of his teeth. The sharp points burn as they bury in hard enough to create indentations, hissing behind the suffocating palm keeping your screams trapped.

Twisting your neck again, his palm falls to your neck tightening around as his lips hungrily devour your parted open pout, tonguing his way in easily. Each gasp you struggle to get out swallowed down by his domineering lips easily taking full control of the kiss with more of a choking squeeze around your neck. “Keep your pretty mouth open for me.”

Two fingers tease at your hole as he presses the back of your head to his shoulder more, the position leaving you vulnerable at his will, mouth dropped open gazing up at him with glossy eyes. Sunghoon’s lips purse together over yours, tongue swishing around collecting a wad of saliva, the first glimpse of shiny clear spit exiting his lips has you choking for air even more. Already struggling to breathe as he slowly spills drool onto your tongue, fingers pushing past the resistance of your tight hole as his spit collects at the back of your throat with yours urging you to gurgle and cough for air.

“Fucking disgusting, such a pretty little thing, nasty cock whore.” He grunts, biting your bottom lip roughly, teeth knocking into yours. “Swallow.”

Patting the middle of your throat, he sneers sadistically, enjoying the first batch of fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Fingers thrusting in and out of you without falter, the width of his palm colliding with your clit the more he works to stretch you out around his digits. Not that it matters much, he could care less if you cry because it hurts.

Sunghoon waits for your throat to bob under his palm, sliding out of you and blurring over your clit with more strength, muscles pronounced with each motion even in the dark. He sinks down leaving you to rest your face on the wall, using the opportune moment to compose yourself and fill your lungs. Sniffling away the tears now making their way past your chin, ending their journey down to your breasts. 

“Remember what I said.” Sunghoon’s palms land heavy on your ass, a string of curses following under his breath. Long fingers knead and squeeze, pulling your cheeks apart to fully expose both of your holes. “Don’t wanna get caught..”

He dips in keeping you held open, the tip of his nose grazing between the crevice of your ass, lips dragging across your rim. “Or do you?”

The cry you let out disappears into the wall, lifting a hand to bite down on as your other supports you from melting down to your knees. Sunghoon’s ears clog up with muddled heat, his sole focus turning to your holes winking at him enticingly, each one barely opening even as his tongue swipes between both nastily. He murmurs below you, shaking the meat of your ass against his face to further drown in your aroused scent. The warmth radiating from between your thighs dizzying him to a brainless empty-headed mess. 

“Hoon..” 

He swipes up and down repeatedly, wetness covering him forehead to chin the more he teases and flicks at your holes. Muffling your own moans, you twist to watch his face of pure ecstasy, half lost between your ass as he pushes in to curl his tongue through the tight ring of your rim. Everything about it sets your back rigged, from his long black eyelashes laid out on his high cheekbones, to the pleasured wrinkle that’s formed between his perfect eyebrows. Raspy groans accompany the slide of his tongue, endlessly digging his strong hands into your asscheeks, firm enough for it to sting.

Sunghoon blinks up meeting your gaze, unhinging his jaw more to swoop past the skin separating your core and rim. Tongue tickling at your slick hole without breaking his focus on your heated face. He finally laps at your entrance akin to a dehydrated animal, slurping the slop of wetness out of your hole with his lips latched around you.

“Oh fuck.” You croon, biting down harder on the inside of your fingers. Cheeks streaked with overwhelmed tears by now, shoving your butt back against his nose to ride each clean sweep of his tongue collecting your wet desire.

Sunghoon shoves in, the thick wet of his tongue combining with the slick coating your walls adding an extra slip for him to push all the way in; out of breath the more you rock down burying his nose into your rim. All of it downright disgusting. The thought of being too loud and getting caught has you rolling down faster, fucking his tongue in and out of your hole in chase of relief. 

Seeming to catch on, he slaps your hips, gripping mounds of meat roughly to jiggle and urge you to set your weight down on his face. Skin gone near completely red, Sunghoon gazes up at you with blazed out eyes, a vein rippling down the center of his forehead the more he struggles to breathe. All of it sends you over the edge right as his biceps wrap around your thighs and he pulls away to spit at your hole. The sick trickle of it has you jerking, eyes rolling up and slapping the wall as a flash of blank minded heat washes down from your skull to your toes.

Sunghoon gasps under the drench of arousal spouting from your cunt, pinching nerves throbbing at the sides of his forehead quickly relieved to receive oxygen again. The thought of dying between your thighs with a happy smile on his face amusing him. 

Moving back up to stand, he loops your waist with one arm, using the other to free his engorged girth from the confines of his boxers, shoving them down past his balls with the waistband of his sweats.  

Sunghoon’s fast to stroke himself, pinching at the head of his length to calm his need to cum already; the tight suction of your cunt around his tongue had him ready to soil himself, cock jumping between his thighs with each trickle of your wetness gliding down his throat. He squeezes at the base for a minute or two, smacking the meat of his length down on just below the dip where your lower back meets your ass. “Want it?”

The sound of his cock slapping heavily on you has your already quivering thighs crashing together, ready to lose your balance on your weak ankles if not for his muscular grip around your torso.

“H-hoon please,” you try to whine louder than you should, gagging as his hand returns to circle your throat again. Sunghoon uses more power to drag your neck back, forcing your ass to jut out more leaving your thighs parted and easy to access. 

“Too fucking loud.” He grits, kissing the sweat off your forehead, cock grazing between your thighs. “Where do you need it?”

“I-inside…inside me, please, Hoon please..”

A growl rumbles off his sturdy chest, licking down your cheek to bite at your jawline, Sunghoon releases your throat only to cover your mouth again. The scream that rips from your chest goes mute under his grasp, thrusting forward with one meticulous thrust until the entirety of his girth manages to stretch past your convulsing heat. “Fuck.” He growls, the bite he holds on your jaw chattering, having to shake away his own need to shout. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

Shutting his eyes, he sighs, hand staying clamped to your lips tightly as he savors your walls gripped around him. The heat of your cunt wrapping him in a dripping wet cocoon of raging heat, each contraction around him drawing the veins lining his size to throb painfully. “So..”

Sunghoon grunts, nipping at your chin, hips pulling back a few inches just to fuck back into you. “Fucking..”

He pants, repeating the movement, pistoning into your backside with a sudden urgency. “Good..”

Already feeling too close to release he’s merciless from the start, fucking into you fast, bouncing your weight against him hard enough to have you jumping up on your toes similarly to a rag doll being tossed around. Sunghoon groans, tucking his bottom lip in a fierce bite to control the volume of his grunts. Cock slamming in rapidly, each virgous snap of his hips more rough than the last.

“You fucking like that?” He rasps, fully pressing your front to the wall to keep you held up. Grinding against the perky top of your ass folding over onto your lower back. The lewd visual of your body altering due to the aggressive nature he fucks you in only seizes his balls up, heavy as they meet your clit with each clap of his pelvic bone digging into your backside. 

Sunghoon doesn’t wait for your answer, knows the pathetic screams lost beneath his hand are enough. The thick creamy gloss coating his length with every draw back more than enough to know how much you love it. The deep arch you stay in, the way your pussy sucks him in more and more with each thrust.

“Fuck, good.” He mutters, hissing between his teeth, his free hand grappling your arms behind your back to handcuff your wrists together. The new position allowing him more control to fuck you like nothing but a whore, just a dirty cockslut desperate to take dick and catch a fat nut.

“Cum for me one more time.” He says between gritted teeth, sloppily nipping your earlobe between rapid skin-clapping thrusts. “Fucking cum.” 

Sunghoon’s throat cracks to not scream, his vocal cords raw from trying to suppress his own need to cry out, face dropping to your shoulder to bite into any exposed flesh as you writhe against him, pussy sucked around his length to an almost painful point. The wetness fucked out of you with each jerky last thrust he gives drenching his balls, smearing between his thighs in such a disgusting vile way.

He can’t help but to fully bite the juncture between your neck and shoulder. A bitter metallic taste mixes  with his saliva as he pumps you full of release, his hand only going lax on your mouth the more he empties inside of you and falls weak. Orgasm fully absorbing his strength for a moment as he licks at the accidentally inflicted wound struggling to regain his barings. 

The whiny whimper you let out has his eyes fluttering open, nodding against your nape before taking a deep breath and slowly freeing himself from your warmth.

“Shh,” Sunghoon’s lips drag against the side of your face panting to catch his breath. Squatting down he picks up your bottoms and tugs them back up over your hips. Turning you around to face him, he cleans up the tear tracks left behind on your cheeks, leaving two soft kisses on each. “You good?”

He smiles, keeping you held up straight with a hold around your waist. “I’m good..”

Sunghoon laughs under his breath, leading you down the hall toward the living room. “You’re kind of..” he pauses, peeking into the room at his sister still sound asleep, the movie credits now rolling.

“Kind of what?”

“A freak...” He grins, patting your butt, eyebrows directing you back to the couch. “Like me.”

[cyjhhyj]

demon! sunghoon headcanons

sunghoon isn’t loud about his affection. his love is obsessive, quiet, and constant, watching you in your sleep. his clawed fingers grazing your cheek or arm, as if memorizing you every night.

you’re the only good thing in his brutal, blood-stained world. not belonging in his domain. he couldn't understand love, he didn't want to. until you. but once he feels it, he burns for you like hellfire itself

he carves his sigil, his mark onto your collarbone with a kiss, marking you as his. it glows faintly whenever he needs to remind you that you're his. doesn't matter if he's near or in another dwelling

anyone or anything - another human or a creature of the dark - who looks at you wrong will never seen what or who is coming for them, never to be seen again.

“You don’t need to think about them” he murmurs. “Just know you’re safe, my love"

sunghoon has never feared anyone, never bowed in front of anyone, but he kneels at your feet without shame. he calls you his angel, his holy sin, his reason

he touches you like you’ll disappear; long embraces, lips to your pulse point, arms always around your. his wings wrapped around you like a blanket when you sleep together, or he flies you to other places.

his control is razor-thin, always tryinh to be gentle at first. his fingers tracing your curves, lips lingering on your thighs. but the moment you moan his name… it snaps.

His voice drops an octave, dark and low: “You don’t understand what you do to me, do you."

"we may indulge in sin, but.. god", he groans into your neck, inhaling your scent, "my love, you are what heaven must feel like"

he needs you with him at all times; on him, under him. it doesn't matter to him. when he hasn’t had you in a while, you’ll feel claws on your hips, sharp teeth on your neck, and his low growl in your ear: “You’ve been teasing me all day. You think I wouldn’t notice?”

his favourite thing is when he's in his court, his minions, his followers made to get on his knees for you, worship you. sunghoon's on his throne - a beast of a throne designed out of obsidian and what seems to be freakishly similar to blood and maybe bones? but that doesn't matter because he has you perched on your own special throne - his lap.

and times when he's craving you, his cock is your throne. he doesn't care if he has his subjects witnessing the filthy view of him bouncing you on his cock. if he's feeling possesive, he'll cover you with his wings.

after claiming you the first time, your souls are linked. he can feel your arousal, and you can feel his. it’s intoxicating. it burns within you the best way, the fire only be able to controlled and quenched when he fills you up.

he'll smirk at you across a room as you squirm from the growing heat between your legs, without a single touch

for instance, I one day, you took him out to a party, saying he needs to mix in with the crowd more, however, the second he saw some guy approaching you when he left to get you drinks, he just scoffed.

smirking right after as he uses his powers, eyes turning red with how his hidden tentacles came out, invisible, coming and wrapping themselves around your thighs and up where you needed him the most, thrusting in suddenly, almost enough for you to moan and cum on spot, marking his territory

more often than not, he abuses this connection to tease you until you beg, he won't give in until you say god's name in vain.

telepathic whispers like: "touch yourself, my pretty angel. let me feel you come for me."

he’s the king of his domain which means he's also always in control unless you beg him otherwise and even then, he lets you think you’re in control just to flip the switch mid-act.

"you never learn, do you, angel?" his teeth nip at your ear, a smug smile on his pretty lips. "you maybe the queen of hell but I'm god here"

a/n: the biggest fattest kissie to my girl @jaylaxies for being my designer 🥺🫶🏻