hoonharem

[hoonharem]

MY PRETTY GIRL

warnings: smut, fluff, rough sex, squirting, dirty talk, praise kink, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, lmk if I missed anything

wordcount: 1.4k

masterlist

Sunghoon walks into the living room, his dark eyes locking onto you immediately. His lips curl into that shy, boyish smile that makes your heart flutter. “Baby,” he says, voice low, “you look so fucking pretty.” He’s so cute like this, all sweet and attentive, his cheeks a little pink as he sits next to you. He pulls you into his lap, his strong hands gentle as they rest on your hips. “How do you always look this perfect?”

You giggle, smoothing your dress and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just for you, Hoonie.” His nickname makes his smile widen, and he leans in to kiss you, soft and slow at first, tasting your gloss. His kisses are warm, like he’s pouring all his love into them. But you can feel the shift, the way his grip tightens, the way his breath hitches.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rougher now, dripping with need. His hands slide up your thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress, and you shiver as his fingers brush your skin. He’s so big, his biceps flexing under his shirt, and you can’t help but run your fingers over them, loving how strong he feels.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice shaky with want, and that’s all he needs. He scoops you up like you weigh nothing, carrying you to the bedroom with that cute grin still on his face. He lays you down on the soft pink sheets, his eyes roaming over you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “My pretty girl,” he says, climbing over you, his body hovering above yours.

Sunghoon starts slow, kissing your neck, your collarbone, his lips warm and soft. His hands push your dress up, revealing your lacy panties, and he groans softly. “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect.” He loves you like this, all dolled up, soft and feminine. It drives him crazy. He pulls your dress off completely, leaving you in just your panties, and his eyes darken as he takes you in, his gaze hungry.

He’s sweet, but in bed, he’s rough. Not mean, just… intense. Like he can’t hold back. He kisses you harder now, tongue sliding against yours, wet and messy, and you feel his hands everywhere, gripping your thighs, squeezing your waist, palming your breasts through your bra. He yanks your panties down, tossing them aside, and spreads your legs wide, his fingers brushing over your pussy, already soaked for him. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good,” he promises, his voice low and husky, thick with lust.

He starts with his fingers, sliding two inside you, slow at first, stretching you open. Then faster, curling them just right, hitting that spot that makes you moan. You grab his biceps, feeling the hard muscle under your fingers, and whimper, “Hoonie.” He looks up at you with that cute, boyish smile, even as he’s doing filthy things to you. “You’re so fucking wet, baby,” he says, sounding almost proud. “This pussy’s all for me, yeah?”

“Y-Yes,” you gasp, your hips bucking as he pumps his fingers harder, the slick sound filling the room. He loves this, loves making you squirm, loves the way you fall apart for him. He lowers his head, his lips finding your clit, and you cry out as he starts to suck, his tongue flicking over you, fast and relentless. It’s too much, too good, and you feel that pressure building fast, your body tightening.

“Gonna make you squirt, princess,” he mumbles against your pussy, his voice confident, cocky even. He presses his fingers deeper, fucking you with them, hitting that spot over and over while his tongue works your clit. You’re a mess, moaning his name, your thighs shaking, and then you’re gone. Your body convulses, and you come hard, squirting all over his fingers, his face, the sheets. He doesn’t stop, keeps licking and fingering you through it, drawing out every last shudder until you’re whining, oversensitive, tugging at his hair.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he groans, pulling back to look at you, his lips shiny with your cum, his eyes wild with want. He’s still so cute, even now, with that proud little grin like he just won a prize. He strips off his shirt, and you can’t help but stare at his lean, muscled body. Perfectly defined abs, strong shoulders, and those biceps that flex as he tosses his shirt aside. You want to lick every inch of him.

He’s quick to get rid of his pants and boxers, and you bite your lip at the sight of his cock—hard, thick, leaking precum. He climbs back over you, kissing you deeply, and you taste yourself on his lips, the mix of you both making you dizzy. “You okay, baby?” he asks, his voice soft for a moment, checking in like the sweet boyfriend he is.

“Mmhm,” you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Want you, Hoonie. Want you to fuck me.”

That’s all it takes. He positions himself between your legs, his hands gripping your hips as he slides into you, slow at first, stretching your pussy around his cock. You moan, your head falling back, and he groans, low and deep. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he says, his voice rough, almost desperate. He starts to move, thrusting hard, and it’s intense, the kind of rough that makes your whole body tingle. His cock fills you perfectly, hitting deep, and you can feel every inch of him.

His biceps flex as he holds himself up, and you grab them, squeezing the hard muscle as he fucks you, each thrust rocking your body. He’s so strong, and he knows it, loves using his strength to make you feel small, safe, his. He shifts, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you tight against his chest as he pounds into you, his cock dragging against your walls. “My pretty girl,” he murmurs, his lips against your ear. “Love you so fucking much.”

You whimper, clinging to him, your nails digging into his back as he fucks you harder, the bed creaking under the force. He’s rough, but he’s still your Sunghoon, the one who blushes when you compliment him, who carries your bags and kisses your forehead. Even now, as he’s fucking you so hard you can barely think, he’s so cute, the way he watches your face, making sure you’re okay, making sure you’re loving every second.

He pulls back slightly, grabbing your legs and pushing them up, folding you in half so he can fuck you deeper. “Look at you, taking my cock so well,” he groans, his eyes locked on where he’s splitting you open, your pussy stretched around him, slick and dripping. “Such a good girl for me.” His words make you clench, and he feels it, grinning as he thrusts even harder, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

“Gonna come again, baby?” he asks, his voice shaky, like he’s barely holding on. He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars, and you nod frantically, your body trembling. “Come on, princess, let me feel that pussy squeeze me,” he says, and his arms tighten around you, his biceps pressing against your sides as he fucks you harder, deeper, relentless.

You scream his name as you come, your pussy clenching tight around his cock, your body shaking as pleasure rips through you. He groans, his thrusts getting sloppy as he chases his own release, fucking you through your orgasm. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum,” he pants, and with a few more hard thrusts, he buries himself deep, filling you with his cum, hot and thick. He holds you tight through it, kissing your neck, your cheek, murmuring, “So good, baby, so fucking perfect.”

When it’s over, he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. His biceps are still flexed, and you snuggle against him, feeling small and safe. “You okay?” he asks again, his voice soft, his fingers brushing your hair back.

“More than okay,” you say, kissing his cheek. He’s rough, yeah, but he’s so sweet, so cute, you can never be mad at him. He smiles, that shy, boyish grin, and pulls you closer, his lips finding yours for one last, gentle kiss.

“Love you, my pretty girl,” he whispers, and you melt, knowing you’re his, always.

[hoonharem]

heesimp’s stepdad! hoon has me on a chokehold so bad lately 🫠

Thinking about being in stepdad! Sunghoon’s beach house...

The clock ticks past midnight.

The beach house is cloaked in soft silence, broken only by the distant hush of the waves outside.

You lie on your side in the guest bed; tiny sleep shorts riding up your hips, a loose tank top brushing against your bare chest—your skin still sticky and warm from the humid night air.

The creak of the door is almost imperceptible.

But you hear it.

You feel him.

Sunghoon’s silhouette looms in the doorway, his body lit only by the faint moonlight slicing through the blinds.

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t have to.

Your breath catches in your throat as he closes the door softly behind him, clicking the lock into place with a tenderness that betrays just how badly he wants to devour you.

He pads over to the bed—bare-chested, grey sweats hanging low on his hips, the outline of his cock already swelling visibly beneath the fabric.

And then he’s there, sitting on the edge of the mattress, his hand grazing the soft skin of your exposed calf.

“Couldn’t sleep without my baby,” he whispers, voice thick, dark with need.

He bends down and presses a kiss above your knee, trailing upward, slowly, until his lips brush your inner thigh.

You shift, thighs parting instinctively with a sigh escaping your lips.

An invitation.

Sunghoon exhales a soft, shaky breath, fingers sliding under the hem of your sleep shorts, dragging them down your hips with agonizing patience.

“Such a sweet girl,” he murmurs, voice almost worshipful. His nose nuzzles the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis, inhaling you like you’re the air he needs to breathe.

“My love… My pretty baby.”

The words make you whimper—a sound so small the dark swallows it.

But Sunghoon hears it.

And he thrives on it.

You lift your hips, helping him peel the shorts down completely, leaving you in only your thin panties and the loose cotton tank.

He kisses along your hips, your pelvis, teasing closer, until he’s spreading your thighs wider with his broad palms, settling himself between them like he belongs there.

And he does.

He presses his hot, wet tongue against the fabric, tracing over the outline of your pussy lips and leaving a kiss to the visible wet spot over your entrance. He then shifts his focus back to exploring your clothed cunt. You moan softly when his tongue grazes your sensitive bud. He smiles.

He puts all of his attention into stimulating your clit. He gives adoring kisses at first and then kitten licks that quickly transform into full-on sucking.

He gives it one more kiss before pulling away to look at you—lips parted, chest rising irregularly, nipples hardened from you playing with them just a minute ago.

God, he loves seeing you like this.

Sunghoon reaches the hem of your panties and pulls down slowly. You raise your hips slightly and watches as a string of slick connects your pussy to the ruined pice of fabric previously hiding it from him.

He positions himself, spreading your legs again. His eyes never leave your pussy, the hunger in his stare resembling a starved man about to eat for the first time in weeks.

The first press of his tongue to your bare slit is slow and devastating.

Sunghoon moans low against you, the vibration shooting straight into your core.

He licks you in long, deliberate strokes—savoring, tasting, owning.

One of your hands finds his hair—silky and soft between your fingers—and tugs gently, but Sunghoon just growls, low and warning.

“No, sweet girl. Let Daddy take care of you.”

He wraps his arms under your thighs, locking you in place, and devours you properly.

His tongue dips into your entrance, teasing, before lapping up your slick and circling your clit in lazy, torturous patterns.

Every slow lick, every wet suck against your aching bundle of nerves pulls a broken moan from your throat.

You arch, panting, grinding your hips against his mouth helplessly.

Sunghoon pulls back just enough to mutter against your dripping cunt, “Look at you… already so wet for me. My baby’s pussy always knows when I need her.”

You whine, thighs trembling.

The need spirals, sharp and unbearable, but Sunghoon keeps it slow. He keeps you right on the edge, wanting, needing, desperate.

Only when you’re sobbing, softly whispering ‘Please, Daddy, please!’ does he relent.

He sucks your clit between his lips hard enough to make you cry out, the orgasm ripping through you without warning, blinding and hot.

He doesn’t stop.

Not even when you start squirming from the overstimulation, not even when your fingers scrabble at his shoulders.

Sunghoon growls against your cunt and holds you down, tongue and mouth working you through every wave, until you’re left limp and gasping.

When he finally pulls back, your juices slicking his chin, he kisses his way up your trembling body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, your ribs, the soft underside of your breast.

You blink up at him, dazed, and he smiles—soft, almost sweet—as he brushes your damp hair from your forehead.

“My sweet girl,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your flushed cheek. “So good for me… always so fucking good.”

You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s pushing his sweats down, his thick cock springing free—flushed, leaking, and hard for you.

Sunghoon leans down, pressing a kiss to your parted lips.

You taste yourself on his mouth.

“Think you can give Daddy just a little more, baby?” he whispers, nudging the head of his cock against your sore, needy entrance.

The way you whimper and nod—desperate, greedy—makes him chuckle softly.

“That’s my good girl.”

He pushes in devastatingly slow, stretching you all over again—claiming you once more in the dead of night, with only the moon to witness it.

He’s not gentle this time.

Because you’re his.

And tonight, just like every night, he needs to remind you of it.

Sunghoon sinks into you inch by inch, and your walls flutter helplessly around him, still soaked, still twitching from the orgasm he wrung out of you minutes ago.

He curses low under his breath—the sound raw, almost pained—and braces his hands on either side of your head, caging you beneath him.

“Fuck, baby…” he rasps, pressing his forehead against yours for a breathless moment. “You’re so warm… my sweet, sweet girl, so fucking tight for me…”

He doesn’t wait—doesn’t even give your pussy time to adjust.

He pulls almost all the way out—the head of his cock catching at your entrance—before slamming back in with a deep, heavy thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.

You sob his name brokenly, your nails clawing at his broad back, but Sunghoon just growls—a dark, possessive sound vibrating in his chest.

“That’s it, baby,” he pants. “Take it—Take all of Daddy’s cock.”

He sets a brutal pace—hips snapping against yours, his balls slapping wetly against your ass with every thrust.

The bed creaks under the force of it, the frame rattling against the wall, but neither of you care.

Not when he’s fucking you like he’s trying to carve you open—to brand you from the inside out.

Sunghoon dips his mouth to your neck—biting, sucking, marking—leaving angry red blooms along your skin.

You feel them blooming across your collarbone, your breasts, your shoulder—a constellation of bruises only he will ever touch.

“My baby,” he grits out, sinking his teeth into your shoulder just hard enough to make you cry out. “My fucking baby. Mine.”

You can’t speak—too overwhelmed by the relentless stretch and thrust of him—but he sees it in your eyes, the way you nod frantically, whimpering as tears prick the corners of your lashes.

Sunghoon lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his arm to fuck you deeper, harder, until every thrust punches a wet gasp out of you.

The angle lets him hit that perfect spot—over and over—until you’re babbling, begging without words.

“Never gonna let you go,” he hisses, his voice rough against your temple. “You’re mine, my love. You hear me?”

You nod again, tears slipping free now, overwhelmed by how full you feel, how good it is, how right it is.

“You’re never going back to that fucking campus without me,” he growls. “Never gonna let some little college boy even look at you. Gonna keep you right here—in my bed—dripping with my cum every fucking day.”

The filthy, possessive words send you hurtling toward another orgasm—tighter, hotter than the first.

You feel yourself clenching around him, milking his cock greedily, and Sunghoon snarls when he feels it.

“Fuck—that’s it, baby. Cum on my cock. Show me who you belong to.”

You shatter around him with a hoarse, broken gasp—body seizing, back arching off the bed—and Sunghoon loses it.

He drives into you with reckless, punishing thrusts, chasing his own release, desperate to empty himself inside you.

And when it hits him—when his cock throbs deep inside your spasming cunt—he presses his mouth against your throat and roars into your skin, thick, hot cum flooding you in endless, jerking spurts.

He doesn’t pull out; he stays buried deep. His hips grinding in tight, messy circles, making sure every drop stays inside you.

The lewd wet sounds echo in the silence, your bodies slick, trembling, bound together by sweat and want and obsession.

You’re both gasping—wrecked, ruined—but he still doesn’t move far.

Instead, Sunghoon leans down—his body heavy over yours—and captures your mouth in a kiss.

It’s filthy; your spit mixing, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip, his tongue fucking into your mouth just like he fucked your cunt.

A kiss that tastes like desperation, need, and ownership.

He kisses you until you’re whimpering into him, clinging weakly to his shoulders.

Only then does he pull back slightly—just enough to press his forehead against yours again.

“My baby,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “My sweet girl. You’re not going anywhere. Ever.”

This time you kiss him—slower, but just as dirty—while his heavy, softening cock remains buried inside you, your combined cum leaking slowly out your pussy.

Outside, the night stretches on, the ocean murmuring against the shore.

Inside, you’re wrapped up in Sunghoon’s arms—claimed, filled, and hopelessly his.

Exactly how he always intended it.

[hoonharem]

PARK SUNGHOON who absolutely loves to sink his sharp, fanged little teeth into you.

ꔫ MDNI. cw. est relationship, possessive!bf sunghoon x f!reader, biting, marking, unprotected sex (wrap it), petnames (pretty, baby, princess), breeding, slight manhandling, cockwarming. porn with no plot.

sunghoon is directly behind you, flexed arm wrapped around the front of you just enough to slightly choke you. his back is against yours as he heaves, mumbling out small, incoherent cusses under his breath as he relentlessly pounds into your warm cunt. you, on the other hand-- are in complete bliss.

"hoonie, harder.." you plead, almost teasingly when you know he's already giving you his all. your eyes roll back when he finds a way to comply, body tightening around yours as the sound of skin slapping now echoes off the walls of your bedroom.

"yeah, baby? you like that?" he whispers low into your ear, chin pressed against your shoulder as he takes in your scent. god, it's like he's practically drunk on you. the way the smell of your sex captures the air, mixed with the perfume he'd bought you a few weeks prior. "pussy s'all mine, pretty girl. gonna ruin you for myself only."

your moans turn into choked out whimpers when he focuses on your sweet spot. his lower lip starts to trace over your shoulder blade where his chin once rested. you're curious until you feel his teeth graze over the flesh, followed up by them sinking in to pierce you in a way that stings so deliciously. "yes, yes! claim me. give me more, hoon, please.." you beg through broken cries, and he just chuckles darkly.

"so fucking greedy. that's right, gonna show everyone who you belong to." his tone is quite cocky, but you're drowning in how much more turned on it makes you feel. your walls flutter around his big length, and he growls loudly as his body presses you further into the mattress.

that's when he flips you over, his eyes striking into your eyes as you watch his chest falter up and down. you're quick to wrap your legs around his waist, and he wastes no time slamming into you again with a sound so primal as he feels you once again.

sunghoon's head dips to your neck, tongue running up your skin before his mouth suctions to it. he doesn't stop until there's several dark marks left behind, curing them by delving his "fangs" over each spot. "too sensitive there.." you squirm, but his strong arms keep you down. "you can take it. you take anything, just like a good girl is supposed to." he speaks as he grips your hips tighter, pulling you deeper onto his cock as his thrusts pick up once more.

when he finds a new rhythm, he groans before finding your collarbone. his reign doesn't end, leaving endless love bites all over your supple flesh all for his eyes. his teeth trace behind, nibbling anything they can grab. sunghoon's cock throbs as he moans against your body, the sound muffled into your skin. "gonna fill you up, give my girl just another way to remember me. gonna have you leaking, baby." his voice is breathy, signaling just how close he is.

you feel your walls start to clench around him, moaning uncontrollably. the sensation of his spit on your skin attracts cold air with each harsh thrust, causing you to jolt and whimper. "gonna cum with you.." you nod, mewling loudly as you feel your body shudder against his, orgasm violently crashing into your system. "give me it, fuck, please!"

he grunts as you milk his cock, his release pooling into you so deep that you can feel every twitch of it. his eyes roll back, and you hear a needy whine for the first time of the night. sunghoon's hands reach for your breasts, squeezing them tightly into his firm palms as he rides you both through your highs.

"fuck-- fuck, princess. you felt so good." he mumbles as he finds his way next to you on the bed, cock still stuffed up your dripping hole. "think 'm gonna stay in you all night. don't want you going anywhere." he whispers in a way that feels utterly possessive against your nape. "i belong to you." you eventually manage to get out.

"you belong to me." and just like that, his mouth finds it's way to your neck once more. like some sort of fevered addiction.

[hoonharem]

!prompt!! jealousy finally makes sunghoon act and fuck, even with him in denial

please please please - psh (m)

sunghoon x f reader

synopsis: Sunghoon always played it cool—until he saw you with someone else, and suddenly, he wasn’t asking for you, he was taking you ✉️ wc2757 ‼️ jealousy, possessiveness, sexual content (oral sex, rough sex), language, slight exhibitionism, emotional tension, minor angst, heavy making out, marking (hickeys/bites)

💌 didnt understand a word said there hun but hopefully this works <3

It had only been a few weeks since you and Sunghoon moved in together. Things were still new, still soft around the edges. Boxes half-unpacked, routines not quite settled, kisses traded in the middle of lazy afternoons. It wasn’t official-official—no labels, no big confessions—but everything between you had felt right. Comfortable. Safe.

So when you casually mentioned your friend would be staying the night—“just for a bit, promise, he’s passing through”—Sunghoon didn’t think much of it.

Until he opened the door.

Jake.

Tall, sharp-jawed, with easy charm in his voice and pretty-boy eyes that lingered a beat too long when they met yours. His duffel bag slung over his shoulder, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he said, “Hey, Hoon. Thanks for letting me crash.”

Sunghoon didn’t remember saying yes.

And you—fuck, you looked excited. Lit up, like this was someone you hadn’t seen in a while. Like this wasn’t just any friend.

Jake pulled you in for a hug, his hand resting low on your back, his mouth brushing close to your ear as he murmured something that made you laugh. That laugh again.

Sunghoon didn’t say a word.

He just watched.

Watched Jake sit next to you on the couch after dinner. Watched how your knees touched and you didn’t move away. Watched how Jake handed you his hoodie when you said you were cold, like it was second nature.

Watched how you wore it.

He told himself it wasn’t a big deal.

But by midnight, when Jake was still up with you, flipping through old photos on your phone and laughing like he belonged here, Sunghoon was seething.

You eventually got up to grab water, leaving them alone in the living room.

Jake leaned back on the couch, glancing at him. “You’re quiet tonight,” he said casually, like they were just two guys catching up.

Sunghoon gave a tight smile. “I didn’t know her friend was a guy.”

Jake raised a brow. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Sunghoon muttered. “She didn’t.”

Jake shrugged, completely unbothered. “Well. Nothing to worry about, man. Y/N and I go way back. Totally platonic.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked toward the hallway, where you were still out of earshot.

His jaw clenched. His voice dropped.

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Jake only grinned, like he could smell the tension in the room and was enjoying the hell out of it. He stretched his arms over the back of the couch, relaxed, confident, completely at ease in a space that wasn’t his. “Man, she’s changed a lot since we last hung out. Got hotter somehow,” he added with a little smirk.

Sunghoon didn’t even blink.

“Right. Real glow up,” he said flatly, taking a sip from his water bottle, eyes fixed on the TV even though it wasn’t playing anything.

Jake chuckled. “You two are roommates, right? Just roommates?”

Sunghoon’s grip on the bottle tightened.

You walked back in just then, Jake flashing you that stupid, too-pretty smile. “We were just catching up. You didn’t tell me Hoon was so protective.”

You laughed, sliding onto the couch beside him, not noticing the way Sunghoon’s eyes tracked how Jake shifted closer, thigh brushing yours.

“We’re not roommates,” you said, glancing at Sunghoon with a teasing look. “We live together.”

Jake raised a brow. “Same thing.”

“It’s not,” Sunghoon said sharply—too sharply.

You blinked. “Hoon?”

His jaw flexed. “Doesn’t matter.”

You and Jake kept chatting, the conversation picking up again like nothing happened, but Sunghoon barely heard a word. His head was loud—too loud. He kept telling himself he didn’t care. That you could be close with whoever you wanted. That he didn’t need to say anything because it wasn’t like that between you two.

Except it was.

Except the way Jake touched you made his blood boil.

Except the way you laughed at Jake’s stupid jokes made something burn low in his stomach.

And when you stretched your arms over your head, hoodie riding up just enough to expose a sliver of skin, Jake’s eyes dropped to your waist and didn’t come back up right away.

Sunghoon stood abruptly. “I’m going to bed.”

You looked up, surprised. “Already?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at Jake. “Have fun catching up.”

Then he turned and walked down the hallway, hands clenched at his sides, breathing harder than he wanted to admit.

He shut the bedroom door behind him—but he didn’t sleep.

He lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding in his chest as your voice carried faintly through the walls. Soft. Sweet. His.

You were his.

Even if he’d never said it. Even if he was too much of a coward to admit it out loud. Even if he was still pretending it didn’t mean anything—this thing between you.

But Jake?

Jake wasn’t pretending anything.

And that was going to be a problem.

The clock hit 1:14 a.m.

You were still out there with him.

Sunghoon rolled onto his side, arm tucked under his head, eyes trained on the door like it might open at any second. It didn’t. Laughter filtered faintly through the wall instead—yours and Jake’s. Low, intimate. The kind of laugh you gave when you were completely at ease. The kind of laugh Sunghoon heard in his dreams, usually when you were curled up against his chest in the early morning, half-asleep and warm.

He hated that Jake was hearing it now. Hearing you like that.

His fingers twitched against the sheets. He kept telling himself to let it go. That you’d chosen to live with him, not Jake. That you came home to him, not Jake. That Jake was just a friend.

But something about the way Jake looked at you tonight…

Something about the way you looked back…

He didn’t like it.

And he really didn’t like that he couldn’t stop picturing Jake sitting closer. Testing limits. Making some slick little comment that made you blush. Maybe brushing your hair behind your ear. Maybe daring to touch your thigh the way only he should.

Sunghoon sat up. Too hot. Too tense. His jaw ached from clenching so hard.

Then he heard your voice. Closer this time.

You were walking down the hall.

His heart thumped.

A moment later, the door creaked open and you stepped inside, Jake’s hoodie still hanging loose around your frame, swallowing your body in fabric that smelled like him. Not Sunghoon.

You smiled sleepily. “Hey… I didn’t wake you, did I?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked to the hoodie. His hoodie—the one he gave you a few nights ago when you were cold—was lying untouched on the desk chair behind you. Abandoned.

“No,” he said, voice low. “Didn’t wake me.”

You crossed the room, clearly unaware of the storm under his calm. “Jake says hi. He’s crashing on the couch now.”

Sunghoon hummed in response, barely a sound. You were already climbing into bed, pulling the covers over your legs.

“You okay?” you asked softly, glancing at him.

“Fine.”

You gave him a look, like you didn’t believe him—but you didn’t push. You just curled up on your side, facing away from him.

Silence.

His eyes dropped to your waist. The hem of the hoodie had ridden up just slightly, exposing the curve of your hip, your bare thigh peeking out. He knew you weren’t wearing anything under that. Not when you’d been lounging in the living room all night in it.

Wearing his hoodie like that would’ve had him touching you already.

But this? Jake’s?

“Take it off,” he said suddenly.

You blinked, turning back toward him. “What?”

Sunghoon’s eyes were sharp now, burning into yours in the dark.

“That hoodie. Take it off.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Because it’s his,” he said, voice low and tight. “And I don’t want to see you in it.”

You stared at him, surprised by the edge in his tone. “Sunghoon…”

He looked away. “Forget it.”

“No,” you said, sitting up slowly. “Say it.”

“I did,” he snapped, then lowered his voice. “I said take it off.”

You studied him in the silence that followed. The clenched jaw. The barely restrained tension. The heat in his eyes that didn’t match the coolness of his words.

“…Are you jealous?”

He scoffed. “Why would I be?”

You smirked just a little, like you knew exactly why.

That made it worse.

Sunghoon lay back down and turned away from you, teeth gritted, fists curled into the sheets.

He wasn’t jealous.

He wasn’t.

He just didn’t want Jake looking at you like that. Touching you like that. Making you laugh like that.

That wasn’t jealousy.

That was… something else.

Right?

The morning after was quiet.

Too quiet.

You were making coffee in the kitchen, hair still messy from sleep, dressed in one of Sunghoon’s old tees—thankfully his again this time. Jake wandered in behind you, yawning, stretching, acting like this was his place too. Sunghoon sat at the dining table, nursing a mug of black coffee he hadn’t touched, eyes following every move you made.

He watched as Jake leaned casually against the counter beside you, close—too close.

Watched as you laughed at something Jake said.

Watched as Jake’s hand slipped to your shoulder, fingers lightly brushing the fabric of your shirt. “God, you’re still the same,” Jake said, chuckling. “Always trying to make people feel at home, even when you’re half asleep.”

You smiled. “Well, you are a guest.”

Sunghoon’s knuckles went white around his mug.

Jake’s hand didn’t move.

It stayed right there on your shoulder, fingertips warm, possessive, easy like it belonged there.

Sunghoon stood up so fast the chair scraped harshly against the floor. You and Jake both turned to look at him—but before either of you could say a word, Sunghoon was already moving.

He crossed the room in three long strides, grabbed your waist with both hands, and pulled you in without hesitation.

Then his mouth was on yours.

Hard. Hot. Unapologetic.

You gasped, hands bracing on his chest in shock, but he didn’t stop. His grip tightened, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair as his lips crashed over yours again—claiming, tasting, devouring. Like he’d been starving.

You barely had a second to react before he broke the kiss, just enough to speak against your lips.

“He doesn’t get to touch you.”

Your eyes widened, breath caught in your throat. “Sunghoon—”

But he kissed you again—this time slower, deeper, like he was trying to burn the taste of you into memory. Like he wanted Jake to see exactly what you meant to him.

Jake cleared his throat awkwardly behind you. “Dude, seriously?”

Sunghoon pulled away just enough to turn his head, his arm still locked around your waist.

“Yeah,” he said flatly, eyes cold. “Seriously.”

Jake looked between you two, lips parting like he wanted to say something smart—but for once, he didn’t. He just blinked, muttered something under his breath, and grabbed his mug to leave the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, you turned back to Sunghoon, dazed and breathless.

“…What the hell was that?”

His eyes searched yours, like he couldn’t believe he just did that either. But the flush creeping up his neck said everything he wouldn’t.

“I’m not just your roommate,” he said hoarsely. “And he’s not just a friend. Not when he looks at you like that.”

You stared at him, stunned.

Then a smile tugged at your lips.

“Took you long enough.”

You barely made it to the bedroom before Sunghoon had you pinned against the door, mouth already on your neck, hands roaming with a desperation that had been building for weeks—months, maybe.

“Fucking knew he wanted you,” he growled against your skin, nipping hard just below your ear, “but he’s not the one you come home to, is he?”

You shook your head, breath catching. “N-No.”

“Say it.”

“He’s not,” you gasped. “He’s not you.”

Sunghoon kissed you again, rough and possessive, tugging at the hem of your shirt until it was over your head and on the floor. His eyes dragged down your body like he was seeing it for the first time—like Jake’s hands on you had flipped a switch he couldn’t shut off.

“You’re mine,” he said lowly, pushing you back until your knees hit the edge of the bed. “Mine to look at. Mine to fuck. Not his.”

Then he shoved you down.

You bounced lightly against the mattress, eyes wide and lips parted, heat pooling between your thighs at the sight of him stripping off his shirt and tossing it aside. He crawled over you, caging you in, and leaned down until your noses were nearly touching.

“Bet he thought about it last night,” he whispered. “You in that hoodie. No panties underneath. Just walking around like that.”

You whimpered, his hand sliding between your legs, pressing through the damp fabric of your underwear.

“He doesn’t get to know what you sound like when you beg,” he murmured. “But he’s about to hear it.”

He yanked your panties down, tossing them somewhere behind him, and spread your thighs wide open with a firm grip. His eyes were dark, wild, hungry.

“Say my name,” he ordered as he dipped his head between your legs.

“Sunghoon—!”

You cried out the second his tongue touched you, hot and wet and unrelenting. He licked into you with long, slow strokes, groaning against your heat like he needed it. One arm hooked around your thigh, keeping you locked in place as your hips bucked up toward his face.

Every gasp, every moan, every yes, right there, echoed loud and clear through the thin walls.

And Sunghoon made no effort to be quiet. In fact, he made it louder.

He pulled off for just a second, voice thick and soaked in pride.

“Think he’s listening, baby?” he panted, licking his lips. “Think he knows I’m the one making you cum?”

You could barely answer before he buried two fingers inside you, curling just right, and sucked your clit back into his mouth.

You shattered.

Your thighs clamped around his head, back arching off the bed as you cried his name like a prayer—over and over again.

Sunghoon didn’t stop until you were shaking, flushed, completely wrecked.

Then he climbed up your body, kissing your collarbone, your jaw, your lips—messy and deep and full of everything he hadn’t said before.

“You think he can make you feel like that?” he whispered, lining himself up at your entrance. “Let him listen to what he can’t have.”

And then he pushed in.

Hard.

You both moaned—loud, shameless, hungry. The bed rocked under the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming against the wall. You couldn’t stop the sounds he dragged out of you even if you wanted to—whimpers and cries and broken sobs of please, more, don’t stop.

Sunghoon gritted his teeth, gripping your hips tight. “Yeah… that’s it. Louder. Let him fucking hear how good I make you feel.”

He angled his hips and hit that spot—your voice cracked.

“Sunghoon—fuck—!”

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“That’s right, baby,” he growled. “Scream for me.”

[hoonharem]

could u share how stepdad hoon and reader started their sexual relationship? who came onto who…did reader resist….feeling guilty to be enjoying it….stepdad hoon lowkey forcing…

I imagine Sunghoon married his wife out of convenience and because she was exceptionally easy fuck. He didn’t care about love and romance, or any of that bullshit. He just wanted available pussy and got hard on knowing she’d drop to her knees without him asking.

He knew she had a daughter in her last year of college but never formally met her. It’s not like he’s forgotten about it per se, but he figures the two of you aren’t close because his wife never brings you up and you never came around.

And when you did, something similar to electricity seemed to conjure up whenever he was in the same room with you.

His wife is fine and all, but she’s gotten so used to being married to a hot and wealthy man that she uses his money to fund her lavish lifestyle. It irritated him at first, because who is she to spend his money without asking? But you start to come over to their house during breaks. Winter holiday came around and being next to your bedroom 24/7 felt like an urge he was itching to scratch, never mind the fact that his wife slept next to him every time he had those thoughts. And when you weren’t home, it tortured him to imagine you wearing those shorts and push up bras you love so much. Sunghoon would fuck her in lieu of your body and wished he could be fucking you instead.

Truly, Sunghoon didn’t know who was the predator and who was prey. You act so innocent but don’t dress like you are. You say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and treat him like a true member of your family when your mom’s around, but you look at him like you want to devour him alive. He’s pretty sure you know he wants you too, but Sunghoon knows he does a better job at hiding it.

During your spring break, you elect to go home instead of a girl’s trip under the guise of not having money. Which is bullshit. Sunghoon could front the bill and wouldn’t complain either. But he told you that your mom’s out of town and won’t be back until after you leave for uni again. It seemed like a no brainer to come home that week and see what happens.

One movie turned into two, and suddenly you were sitting on his lip with your pussy wrapped around his hard dick.

“We waited too long for this,” Sunghoon says against your mouth without remorse. He leans his head back against the couch and flexes his naked abdomen when you clench around his dick. He starts to put his hands on your waist but you push them away and kiss him hard.

“Let me do all the work, Daddy.” Sunghoon moans. “You do so much for me. Let me make you cum. Just relax.”

“I’m relaxed, alright.”

With your feet planted on either side of him on the couch, you ride him until he’s gushing inside of you. He’s looking up at you like you’re some kind of angel, and you look at him like you’ve won a game. You don’t stop fucking his cock until he forcibly pushes you off of him, but that doesn’t deter you from acting like the nymph he knows you are.

You scramble to your knees and push him back down onto the cushion, slipping his wet cock into your warm mouth. He nearly orgasms again when you hum around him, licking up the remnants of his cum as your fingers gently massage his balls. Your throat constricts around him like you’re trying to take him down all at once. Sunghoon is so fucking impressed and can’t help but think how much better you are at sucking dick compared to his wife.

Eventually, your mouth releases his cock and he watches you bend your head down while stroking him. He grunts when your mouth sucks on his balls and enjoys the feeling of your tongue dancing between his sack. He loves this feeling so much and wishes he could bottle it up. Sunghoon loves that you’re so fucking horny all of the time, and you show it by getting on your knees for him in a way no one has ever done before.

Sunghoon refuses to cum a second time before you get the chance to first, though. You find yourself clinging onto his chiseled, naked body for dear life as he carries you to his bedroom and pushes you against the bed he shares with his wife. It makes you even better and Sunghoon can see just how turned on you are from the prospect of how taboo and dirty this is. He thinks you like being his little secret and he’ll do anything to make sure your pussy is satisfied.

“Daddy’s cock is big, hm?” he tuts. He pushes his hard tip in and pulls it out, pushing and pulling over and over again until you whine. “Or is my stepdaughter’s pussy too tight?”

“Both!” You scream. “Your cock is so big, Daddy. Bigger than I’ve ever had.”

“God,” he moans, sinking right into your hole. “This is so wrong, but I think you like being a dirty slut, don’t you? My baby loves knowing she can get my cock whenever she wants.”

“Wanna fuck you all the time,” you babble when he thrusts in and out of you. His dick is so warm. It’s too good for you to ever let go.

He brushes your damp hair from your forehead and kisses you there. “My stepdaughter is so fucking gorgeous when she’s naked. You’re so messy and pretty when you’re under me.”

You’re close. So close. But he pulls out and pushes you onto all fours until he’s buried to the hilt again with his big sack resting against your clit. It makes you moan like never before and Sunghoon nearly bursts when you arch even further as you push your breasts against the soft mattress beneath you.

So he fucks you like that, hands on either side of your hips while he raises himself to balance his body as he fucks into you from behind. His balls clap against your soaked cunt to the point that he can feel your cum making him sticky. Sunghoon doesn’t stop until he’s cumming too, but even then his thrusts are still ongoing.

Neither of you care that you’re both overstimulated. Sunghoon keeps going and going, pushing your mixed cum in and out of you. He feels it dripping down his balls but doesn’t care about that right now.

Over the course of the week, you and Sunghoon go at it like never before. The sex between the two of you is cosmic and euphoric, like two addicts who need each other to survive. He never uses a condom and you never ask him to put one on, consequences be damned. There isn’t an inch of this house you two haven’t had sex on.

And he’ll admit it. The idea of cheating on his wife with his step daughter keeps him hard.

[hoonharem]

step brother virgin hoon who’s horny 24/7 and jerks off to you without knowing thin walls. Yn shows him what it’s like to have his dick shoved inside a pussy I’m just so down bad

CUM N’ CONFESS ⌗ psh

stepbrother!Sunghoon x reader

⋮ ⌗ ┆ You’ve spent nights listening to your shy, nerdy stepbrother moan through the walls while jerking off to porn—but when you catch him in the act, dripping and curious, you make him drop the screen and fuck you instead ✉️ wc. 2497 - tw. stepcest, virgin!sunghoon, masturbation, oral (f receiving), first time, unprotected sex, teasing, sub!sunghoon, dom!yn, moaning, creampie, slight corruption kink, porn mention, size kink, praise, begging

📝: I want this to happen to me

When Sunghoon first moved in, it was hard not to stare.

He was tall—awkwardly so, like he hadn’t quite grown into it yet—and he always walked around like he was trying to take up less space. Pale skin, like porcelain, not a blemish in sight. He barely spoke during the first family dinner, eyes focused on his plate, nodding shyly when your mom asked if he liked the food. His voice was quiet, almost too soft for how deep it was, like he didn’t trust himself to speak around strangers.

You watched him from across the table. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Not once.

He wore oversized hoodies even in summer and fidgeted with the sleeves whenever anyone looked at him too long. And when your parents introduced you two—“This is Y/N. Same age, you’ll get along fine”—he only gave a tiny smile and a stiff little wave, mumbling something that sounded like “Hi” before ducking into his room and shutting the door.

You assumed he was just shy. Maybe a little weird.

But then you noticed how he always paused when you entered a room. How his eyes lingered on your bare legs when you wore shorts around the house. How he remembered things—little things. The exact way you liked your coffee. The kind of music you blasted through your headphones. The fact that you hated the sound of chewing, so he started eating softer foods when you were around.

He never said much, but he noticed everything.

And that quiet, nervous act? It didn’t quite hold up when the lights were off and the walls were thin. Because after your parents left for their honeymoon, you started hearing things. Late at night. Low, choked sounds from the other side of the wall. The creak of bedsprings. A muffled voice—his voice—groaning under his breath.

You tried to ignore it.

The first night. The second.

By the third, you couldn’t sleep.

Because now every time you heard him, it wasn’t just embarrassing.

It made your thighs press together.

It made you think about that tall, quiet boy with the flushed cheeks and the wandering eyes.

And how maybe he wasn’t that innocent after all.

The first few nights, you pretended not to hear it.

You shoved your face into your pillow, turned your music up, even tried falling asleep on the couch once. But no matter what you did, the noises still found you. Quiet, desperate sounds bleeding through the thin wall you shared with your new stepbrother.

You weren’t supposed to notice. You weren’t supposed to listen.

But you did.

You lay in bed, body still, heart beating faster every time the bedsprings in his room gave that familiar little squeak. And then came his breathing—ragged and broken. Whispered curses. The occasional whimper of your name—not loud, not direct, but enough to make your stomach flip.

At first, you told yourself it wasn’t about you.

You were imagining it.

But then came the fourth night.

And you couldn’t pretend anymore.

You lay there, your legs pressed tight together, thighs clenching at nothing. Your breath hitched when you heard it—the sound of his hand, fast and wet, the softest groan punching out of his throat as he muttered something into the mattress.

It made your skin flush.

It made your nipples ache under your thin tank top.

And before you even realized what you were doing, your hand had slipped under the blanket—under your waistband—fingers pressing against the heat between your thighs.

You were soaked.

From him.

It made no sense. It was wrong. He was your stepbrother—quiet, awkward, nerdy Sunghoon who barely said more than two words to you.

But your fingers slid against your folds anyway. You imagined the look on his face behind that wall. Imagined his jaw clenched, eyes shut tight, hips bucking into his fist. And when he moaned again, soft and broken and real, your fingers moved faster.

You bit your lip to keep from making a sound.

But your body was already chasing that high, rocking slowly against your own hand, soaking wet, needing more.

And all because of him.

You stared at the wall for too long. Heard every breath, every slick sound, every soft curse.

Your fingers were still damp when you slipped them out of your shorts, heartbeat pounding in your throat.

This had to stop.

You couldn’t take another night of pretending.

So you got up—quiet as you could—crossed the hallway in the dark, and stood outside his door for a second too long, heart stuttering as you heard the sound of a woman’s moans, high and fake through his laptop speakers.

Then came the breathier sounds—his sounds.

A low grunt. The creak of his bed.

You knocked once. Light. Hesitant.

The sounds stopped instantly.

“Give me a sec,” his voice called, strained and startled.

But you didn’t wait.

You opened the door slowly, the light from the screen spilling across the bed—and there he was.

Sunghoon froze like he’d been shot.

Blanket yanked over his lap, chest heaving, hoodie pushed halfway up his stomach, cheeks bright red.

His eyes were wide behind those thin silver glasses.

“What—what are you doing?” he asked, voice cracking mid-sentence.

You stared at the glow from his laptop, your eyes adjusting.

“Is that porn?”

He didn’t answer.

You stepped further into the room, ignoring the rush of heat between your legs. “What kind?”

Sunghoon looked like he wanted to die. “Y/N, seriously—get out.”

But your eyes were already on the screen, your voice calm. “No. I want to see.”

You walked closer.

He reached out like he was going to shut the laptop, but you got there first.

And your breath caught in your throat when you saw it.

The girl on the screen looked a little like you.

Same hair color. Same body type. Same whiny little moans.

You turned to him slowly. “Really?”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Fuck. This is not what it looks like—”

You tilted your head. “I think it’s exactly what it looks like.”

Your eyes dropped to the lump under the blanket, his cock still hard and twitching.

You licked your lips.

He watched that movement like a man starved.

You moved closer, slowly, until you were standing at the edge of the bed. “You’ve been jerking off to me, haven’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

But he didn’t deny it.

Sunghoon’s eyes dropped, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. He didn’t say a word.

“I mean,” you continued, stepping just a little closer, “you’ve been pretty obvious about it. You know the walls are thin, right?”

He winced.

“And the way you say my name sometimes… do you even realize you’re doing it?”

“Stop,” he muttered, voice low and tight, like he couldn’t decide whether he was more embarrassed or turned on.

You smiled. “Why? I’m just asking questions.”

His gaze flicked up to yours, and the look in his eyes was different now—desperate, glassy, like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

You leaned down slightly, voice dropping into a whisper. “Did you imagine me watching you?”

Sunghoon let out the faintest, broken noise.

You bit back a grin. “Did you think about me walking in, catching you? Getting curious?”

You dragged your gaze over him slowly—his messy hair, the sweat at his temples, the way his chest rose and fell like he couldn’t breathe right.

Then you straightened up and turned toward the door.

His eyes widened. “Where are you going?”

You glanced over your shoulder, letting your hand trail up the edge of your tank top lazily. “Nowhere. Just figured I’d give you some privacy. Since you’re so shy.”

Sunghoon looked like he was going to say something—maybe beg, maybe tell you to stay, maybe just fall apart right there—but he stayed quiet.

You paused in the doorway, letting your fingers brush the waistband of your shorts, just barely tugging them down a notch.

Then you looked back and smiled.

“Try not to be too loud this time.”

And with that, you disappeared into the hallway.

Your parents had barely pulled out of the driveway when the silence settled. No more awkward dinners. No more chattering voices in the hallway. Just you and Sunghoon, alone in the house for the weekend.

He hadn’t said much all day—just kept to his room, playing his games, pretending like nothing had happened the night before when you caught him red-handed.

But you could feel it.

The tension.

The way his eyes kept flicking toward you at breakfast. How he mumbled responses when you asked him innocent questions, flinching when you leaned just a little too close. He was unraveling slowly, and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

You decided to push it further.

So that night, once the house was quiet, you made your move.

You waited until it was late—until you knew he’d be in his room with his headphones off, probably pretending to read or sleep.

Then you let yourself moan.

Loud.

One hand between your legs, the other gripping your pillow, and you didn’t bother hiding it this time.

You wanted him to hear.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers slipped lower, already wet, already aching. You thought about the way he looked with that laptop in his lap, the panic in his voice when you caught him, how hard he was under that blanket. And the sounds you made echoed through the thin walls, every whimper exaggerated, every breathy moan a tease.

You cried his name once—just loud enough.

Just once.

Then silence.

A beat passed.

Then you heard it—the quiet creak of his bed, the faint shuffle of footsteps.

Your heart pounded as you lay back, still dripping, still pulsing.

And then came the soft knock.

Three taps.

Controlled. Hesitant.

You smiled, biting your lip.

You’d gotten to him.

You let the knock hang in the air for a second.

Then two.

Then three.

You wanted him squirming.

Finally, you opened the door—just a crack at first. Just enough to meet his eyes. His face was flushed, his lips parted like he couldn’t remember how to breathe. Hoodie sleeves tugged over his knuckles. That same nervous energy humming under his skin, but now it was laced with something darker.

Need.

He didn’t say a word.

You tilted your head. “Did you need something, Sunghoon?”

He blinked, throat bobbing, hands clenched at his sides. “I… I heard you.”

You smiled, stepping back slowly to let him in. “I know.”

He hesitated, like crossing that threshold meant crossing a line he couldn’t come back from. But you didn’t fill the silence. You just waited—patient, composed, legs still bare in your tiny shorts, one strap of your tank top slipping off your shoulder.

When he finally stepped inside, you closed the door behind him.

His eyes dropped to the bed, still messy from where you’d touched yourself just minutes before. You walked past him, brushing against his chest lightly, and sat down right in the center of it—legs crossed, gaze heavy.

“Take your hoodie off,” you said softly.

He obeyed instantly, pulling it over his head with shaky fingers. His shirt came up slightly with it, exposing pale skin and a twitch of lean muscle.

You patted the bed beside you. “Sit.”

He moved like he was in a daze.

Once he was down, his knee bounced anxiously, eyes flicking from your face to your bare thighs and back again.

“Relax,” you said, voice low. “You’re the one who came to me, remember?”

His breath caught.

You leaned in, just close enough for your voice to brush his ear.

“Show me how you touch yourself.”

He stiffened. “What?”

You smiled. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

He blinked at you, stunned, lips parting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out. His hands hovered in his lap, trembling slightly.

“I—I can’t, you’re—watching—”

“Exactly,” you said, slow and sweet. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted me to see. So show me.”

He swallowed hard, hand moving to the waistband of his sweatpants. But he didn’t move fast enough.

You clicked your tongue. “Say it first.”

He looked up at you, dazed. “Say what?”

You leaned back against the headboard, spreading your legs lazily. “Beg.”

His breath hitched.

“Tell me how bad you need it. How long you’ve been thinking about me. How many times you’ve gotten off to the sound of my voice. My body. My moans.”

He whimpered under his breath, eyes dropping to your thighs.

“Please,” he said finally, voice rough. “I—I need it. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I’ve… I’ve been so hard all day, I thought about you in the shower, in bed—fuck, even when you hugged me earlier. Please let me show you. I’ll be good, I promise—”

You reached over, stroking your fingers down his cheek, soft and taunting.

“Good boy,” you whispered.

“Now show me.”

He looked like he could barely breathe.

His hand trembled as he slipped it beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, eyes flickering to your face like he needed your permission one last time. You didn’t blink. You just sat there, watching, legs parted, fingertips brushing lazily over your own thigh as you gave a small nod.

He exhaled shakily and pulled himself out—his cock already flushed, hard, twitching against his stomach. He covered it with one hand like he was ashamed, but you caught the way his hips shifted forward instinctively, already chasing friction.

“Let me see,” you said, voice low, sharp.

Slowly, he moved his hand, revealing everything.

You dragged your eyes over it with zero shame. He was thick. A little curved. Pink at the tip and already leaking. You tilted your head and smiled.

“Cute.”

Sunghoon flushed deeper, his knuckles tightening as he wrapped his fingers around himself. His breath hitched as he gave the first stroke—slow, unsure, eyes on you like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“Faster,” you said.

He obeyed instantly, his hand moving slicker now, a soft sound escaping the back of his throat. You reached between your own legs, not even pretending to be subtle anymore, letting him see the way your fingers slipped under your waistband.

“Does it feel good?” you asked.

He nodded, breathless. “Yeah—fuck, so good…”

“Do you always imagine me when you do this?”

“Yes—every time. Every single time,” he groaned, head tipping back.

You slid two fingers against your folds and moaned softly—just to torture him.

His hips jerked.

“Keep going,” you whispered. “I want to watch you come for me, Sunghoon. Just like you’ve been doing every night.”

He whimpered—actually whimpered—as his hand sped up, his body tensing, sweat starting to bead at his temple.

“Look at me when you finish.”

He dragged his gaze back to yours, pupils blown, mouth parted, and it only took a few more strokes before he came with a desperate cry, thick ropes spilling over his knuckles, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.

You smiled, still touching yourself, letting him sit there trembling and red-faced and ruined.

“You’re such a mess,” you said softly. “But you came so pretty for me.”

He looked up at you, breathless and dazed.

And your fingers didn’t stop moving.

He was still catching his breath when you slid closer, your fingers still slick and glistening with your own arousal. His wide eyes followed every move, lips parted like he didn’t even realize he was still breathing heavy.

You leaned in until your mouth was right at his ear.

“You made a mess,” you whispered. “Now clean mine.”

He blinked slowly, like your words took a second to register. But then he looked down—between your legs, where your shorts were clinging to your soaked core—and his throat visibly tightened.

“Y-You want me to…”

“Eat me out,” you said, clear and unapologetic. “Now.”

His breath caught, but he was already moving—shifting to the floor on his knees, eyes never leaving your center as you leaned back and tugged your shorts down. Your panties followed, slow and sticky, and the second you were bare, his lips parted with a soft gasp.

“You’ve been thinking about this every night, haven’t you?” you murmured, spreading your legs wider. “Listening to me moan, touching yourself to the idea of your stepsister dripping for you.”

Sunghoon whimpered—actually whimpered—before lowering his head.

He started slow, like he was afraid to do it wrong. His tongue flicked tentatively against your folds, gentle and shy at first, but when you let out a sharp breath and tugged his hair, he groaned like he couldn’t help it.

“There,” you whispered. “Right there—don’t stop.”

And he didn’t. His hands clutched your thighs, his mouth getting messier with each stroke of his tongue, each flick against your clit, each wet gasp that spilled from your lips. You felt him sink deeper into it, like he was addicted to your taste, like he couldn’t get enough. His shy little whimpers vibrated against your core, making you grind down harder on his face.

“Fuck, Sunghoon…”

Your voice cracked as the knot in your stomach tightened. His tongue moved faster, sloppier, desperate to make you come, and when your fingers threaded tighter into his hair and you cried out, he groaned like he was the one coming.

You pulsed hard against his mouth, hips jerking as your orgasm tore through you—and he didn’t stop until you were pulling him away, trembling and twitching from the overstimulation.

He sat back, his lips and chin glistening, cheeks flushed red, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile.

You looked down at him, still breathless.

“…Good boy.”

wanna read my longer ffs? Check out @shy9-29

[hoonharem]

thinking about brother!sunghoon fucking me doggy style while recording

▸ 18+ mdni. | warnings. incest (or stepcest if it makes you feel better), consensual filming.

don't like it, don't read it. warnings are all identified.

your muffled whines and the sound of skin slapping against skin fill up the room, otherwise dark and quiet, sunghoon's phone casting light over your arched back. his eyes lift up from where your two bodies meet every now and then to take a glance at the closed door of your bedroom, making sure it remains shut, no noises coming from behind it.

the hand that doesn't have his phone in it holds your hip, your ass colliding with the front of his thighs, the flesh bouncing at every thrust. mouth agape, he stares at the way his cock enters you then slides out, his length glistening in your wetness. your pussy gushes around him and he's amazed at how tight and warm you feel.

he angles his phone the right way so it captures the lewd sight of him fucking you, the flashlight making his cock shine in your arousal, your pussy swallowing him whole. the squelching noises are nothing but disgusting, the clear proof you're enjoying it as much as he does.

you know you have to be quiet, but you can't help but moan softly, your hands clenching around your bed sheets, face buried in your pillows and the few plushies still on top of your bed. sunghoon finds you too cute, too pretty... too slutty. it's bad, he knows, but he really can't bring himself to care when your cunt sucks him in so well and drools all over him.

why should he hold himself from claiming what's rightfully his? especially when you deliberately leave your door ajar, sleeping with nothing on but a pair of flimsy panties and tank top. when he knows you're waiting patiently in your bed for him at night.

"sunghoon," you whine, glimpsing over your shoulder, catching him staring at your ass, his phone unsteady in his grasp as he pounds into you.

his eyes leave your pussy to meet your gaze, lips pouty and hair in a mess, looking so stupid and pathetic. "shh," he softly shushes you. "keep quiet, baby. i'm almost finished, okay?"

you slowly nod, your head slumping back down onto the pillows, letting out a sigh. you bite down into your lip to keep in your moans, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing between your walls, whispering your brother's name until his hips stutter, steadying over your ass.

"shit," you hear him curse before he releases himself inside of you, pumping you full of his cum.

when he slips out, he almost groans at the way your pussy clench, making his white cum dribble out of you, his phone filming all of it. he takes pictures of his fingers pulling your lips apart, dipping his digits inside of you, admiring the mess he made of you.

at some point, his library is full of your sins, photos after photos of his sister in numerous positions he shouldn't see you in, making you do things that shouldn't even be talked about. a few days back, when jungwon almost saw these pictures sunghoon swears to keep hidden, he made sure to put a lock on it.

but what can he do when his mother asks to see the videos he's taken during his trip? when she swipes a little too far and suddenly your moans echo in the kitchen, blood instantly draining from his face, snatching his phone out of his mother's hold so fast it nearly shatters to the ground.

he knows he's a lucky bastard when she doesn't recognize you and calls her son perverted for having such content in his own phone. he knows he can't keep acting so mindlessly if he doesn't want this to end badly.

[hoonharem]

ohhh nothing just sunghoon begging you to put it in… mdni, fem!reader

“fuck! pl-please, baby jus’… oh fuck—“ he chokes on his own words, his hips desperately bucking up to try and slip inside your wet cunt.

you smile down at him, your own hips hovering over his. his tip kisses your entrance, but you make no move to fully lower yourself. "hmm?" you hum innocently, your head tilting to the side almost mockingly.

sunghoon huffs at your feigned innocence, his head falling onto the soft pillow with a dull thud. he shuts his eyes, as if trying to gain some semblance of sanity.

unfortunately for him, you don't like the lack of response you get from him. you fully sit on him, your pussy and his cock pressing against each other but not inside. it elicits a low grunt out of him, his hands flying to your hips as he tries to get you to grind on him.

you don't.

dipping a hand between your thighs, you begin to rub your sensitive clit, causing you to gasp. you still smile at him, grinning at him coyly as he watches you with low-lidded eyes.

he can feel it. he can feel the way your pussy clenches around nothing, just practically begging for his cock to stuff you full. yet here you are, sitting on top of him and moaning purposefully to egg him.

and of course, it fucking works.

"o-okay! shit," he pants, lifting his head off the pillow to watch you rub your clit, the way you're quite literally dripping your arousal onto his aching dick. "please, my love."

you try to hide your growing, triumphant smile. you rub your clit faster, biting your lower lip as you feel the familiar coil in your stomach build up just from playing with yourself, from playing with sunghoon.

and he knows when you're close. "no!" he whines, his hand grabbing your wrist, trying to yank your hand away from touching yourself. "you can't cum like this, y-y'have to cum on my cock..."

you mockingly furrow your brows in confusion. "i was going to cum on your cock?" you muse, purposefully grinding your hips against him to emphasize that you are technically on his cock, just not inside.

he huffs again, a frustrated growl escaping him. "no, inside. you cum with my cock inside you," he pants breathlessly, like he had just ran a marathon. "please. please, baby. you have to, you need to, i need to be..." he rambles, his brows all furrowed and irritated.

and isn't it the hottest thing ever?

smiling like you had just won the fucking lottery, you lift your hips up and plap! his plump, kiss-swollen lips part into a half-moan, half-whine sound, his hands squeezing your hips like it was his lifeline.

"fu-yes. yesyesyes, thank you baby, shit!" he groans, now fully sitting up off the bed. his strong arms fully wrap around your entire body, pressing you impossibly closer to him.

and then he's manhandling you, moaning and thanking you in your ear as he moves you up and down his cock himself.

[hoonharem]

five days

wc: 5.6k

warnings: smut, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, p in v, semi-public sex, creampie, breeding kink, hickeys, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol, lmk if I missed anything

First day

The villa was a dream, all wide windows and salty air rolling in from the beach just a short walk away. You and your boyfriend had been talking about this getaway forever, a chance to ditch the city’s noise and just be together. He’d picked this place out, grinning when he showed you the pictures, promising lazy days and wild nights. Day one, though, was all about settling in. You wanted to make the place yours, at least for the week.

You hauled in bags of groceries, the kind of stuff you never buy at home—fancy cheeses, bottles of wine, snacks for late-night munching. He was supposed to help clean, but he was useless in the best way. Every time you turned around, he was there, hands sliding over your hips, lips brushing your neck. “Babe, come on,” he’d murmur, voice low, trying to tug you away from the mop or the stack of plates you were putting away. In the kitchen, he got bold, pressing himself against you from behind, hands sneaking under your shirt. You felt him hard against you, and for a second, you leaned back, letting his fingers graze your stomach. But you laughed, swatting him away. “We’ve got work to do,” you said, dodging his next grab. He groaned, dramatic, but backed off, smirking like he knew he’d get you later.

You spent the day wiping down counters, sweeping sand off the floors, making the bed with crisp sheets that smelled like lavender. He’d wander in, stealing kisses, trying to pull you onto the couch or against a wall. You kept shaking your head, focusing on the tasks, but his teasing was building something in you, a slow heat you couldn’t ignore.

By night, you were both beat from the drive and the cleaning. The villa’s bathroom was huge, with a shower big enough for two. You took turns under the hot water, steam curling around you. You washed off the day, letting the spray hit your shoulders, but you caught him watching through the glass door, eyes dark, like he was already planning something. When you stepped out, towel around you, he was waiting, pulling you close before you could dry off. His skin was warm, still damp from his own shower, and you kissed him, slow at first, tasting the mint from his toothpaste.

You broke away to change, grabbing your pajamas from the suitcase—a soft tank top and shorts. He was faster, already down to his boxers, leaning against the bedframe, watching you like you were the only thing in the world. You started to slip on your top, but he moved quick, hands catching yours. “Nah, you don’t need that,” he said, voice rough, tossing the shirt aside. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts before you could protest, tugging them down until you were left in just your panties.

You raised an eyebrow, standing there, feeling his eyes roam over you. “What about you?” you teased, nodding at his boxers. He grinned, stepping closer, close enough you could feel the heat off him. “Fair’s fair,” he said, and slid them off, kicking them away. You couldn’t help but stare, your breath catching at how hard he already was, his cock thick and ready, brushing against your thigh as he pulled you against him.

He kissed you then, deep and hungry, hands everywhere—your back, your ass, sliding up to cup your breasts. You gasped into his mouth when his thumbs grazed your nipples, already hard under his touch. He didn’t stop, kissing down your neck, sucking lightly at the spot that always made you shiver. You tried to keep it together, tried to tease him back, but he was relentless, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“Babe,” you started, but he shushed you, hands on your thighs, spreading them just enough to make you feel exposed. He looked up, eyes locked on yours, and hooked his fingers into your panties, pulling them down slow, like he was unwrapping something precious. You stepped out of them, heart pounding, and he leaned in, kissing the inside of your thigh, then higher, until his mouth was right there.

You grabbed the edge of the bed for balance when his tongue flicked against you, soft at first, teasing your clit. He groaned, like he was the one getting off, and the sound sent a jolt through you. He licked you slow, then faster, sucking gently, his hands gripping your ass to pull you closer. You were wet, so wet, and he knew exactly how to work you, circling your clit, dipping his tongue inside you just to make you moan. Your legs shook, and you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

He didn’t let up, eating you out like he’d been starving for it all day. You could feel it building, that tight coil in your stomach, your breaths coming faster, louder. “Fuck,” you gasped, when he sucked your clit hard, his fingers digging into your thighs. You were close, so close, and he knew it, humming against you, the vibration pushing you higher. You tried to hold back, not wanting to give in so fast, but he was too good, too focused, and when he looked up at you again, lips slick, you lost it.

Your orgasm hit hard, waves of it rolling through you, your hips bucking against his mouth. He didn’t stop, licking you through it, softer now, until you were trembling, oversensitive, tugging at his hair to pull him away. He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like he’d won something. You were still catching your breath, legs shaky, but you reached for him, wanting to return the favor. He caught your wrist, though, shaking his head. “Not yet,” he said, voice low. “We’ve got all night.”

You collapsed onto the bed, still buzzing, watching him crawl over you, his cock brushing your thigh again. He kissed you, and you could taste yourself on him, sharp and intimate. He was hard, pressing against you, but he didn’t push for more, not yet. Instead, he lay beside you, pulling you close, skin on skin, his hand resting low on your stomach, promising more without saying a word. You knew he wasn’t done, and neither were you.

Second day

You woke up slow, sunlight sneaking through the curtains, warming your skin. At first, you thought you were dreaming—something soft and wet was teasing your pussy, sending little sparks up your spine. Then you blinked, lifting the sheet, and there he was: your boyfriend, face buried between your thighs, eyes closed like he was savoring every second. His tongue flicked over your clit, lazy but deliberate, and you gasped, half-laughing, half-moaning. “Seriously?” you mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

He looked up, lips glistening, grinning like a kid caught sneaking candy. “Good morning,” he said, before diving back in, sucking gently. You tried to play it cool, but your body was already betraying you, hips shifting closer, hands fisting the sheets. He wasn’t in a rush, just licking you slow, tongue dipping inside you, then circling back to your clit. You were still sensitive from last night, and every move he made felt electric, pulling you awake in the best way.

You let your head fall back, closing your eyes, letting him work. His hands held your thighs apart, thumbs rubbing soft circles on your skin. It didn’t take long—you were already wet, already climbing toward that edge. He groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and that was enough to tip you over. Your orgasm rolled through you, softer than last night but still sharp, leaving you breathless. He kissed your inner thigh as you came down, then crawled up to kiss your mouth, tasting like you. “Best way to wake up,” he said, smug, and you swatted his chest, too blissed out to argue.

The rest of the day was different, quieter. After you both dragged yourselves out of bed, you made coffee in the villa’s fancy kitchen, the kind that hissed and steamed like it belonged in a café. He didn’t try to bend you over the counter this time, just sipped his mug and watched you move around, a soft smile on his face. You felt lighter, like the air between you was easy for once. You spent the day chilling—no plans, no rush. You walked down to the beach, toes sinking into warm sand, the waves loud enough to drown out any city stress still clinging to you. He held your hand, swinging it as you walked, and didn’t even tease when you yelped at a cold wave hitting your ankles.

Back at the villa, you cooked together, nothing fancy—just pasta with some sauce from a jar, but it felt good, normal. He chopped garlic, only half-paying attention, and you bumped his hip to steal the cutting board. You ate on the patio, the air cooling as the sun dipped low, painting the sky pink and orange. He was calmer today, not pawing at you every second like yesterday. You caught him looking at you, though, eyes soft but still hungry, like he was holding back for your sake.

Night came slow, the villa glowing warm from the lamps you’d turned on. You were sprawled on the couch, your head on his chest, some random movie playing that neither of you cared about. His fingers traced your arm, then slid under your shirt, not grabbing, just resting on your skin. You tilted your head up, and he kissed you, slow and deep, no rush behind it. His lips moved to your jaw, then your neck, and you felt his teeth graze you, light at first, then harder.

He shifted, pulling you onto his lap, hands roaming your sides. “Hold still,” he murmured, and you did, letting him kiss down your collarbone. His mouth was warm, sucking gently, then harder, leaving your skin tingling. You felt the first hickey bloom on your neck, a little sting that made you gasp. He didn’t stop there—his lips trailed lower, tugging your shirt up to kiss your stomach, then your ribs, leaving another mark just below your bra. Each one was deliberate, like he was mapping you out, claiming spots only he’d see.

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and he groaned, biting a little harder on the curve of your breast. Your skin was buzzing, sensitive where he’d marked you, and you could feel him hard under you, but he didn’t push for more. He just kept kissing, sucking, leaving hickeys across your chest, your hips, even the soft skin of your inner thigh when he slid down later. Every mark felt like a promise, a reminder of him that’d linger for days.

When he finally pulled back, you were flushed, your shirt half-off, his lips swollen and red. He looked at you like you were something unreal, his hands resting easy on your hips. “You’re gonna have to wear a scarf tomorrow,” he teased, tracing one of the darker marks with his thumb. You laughed, shoving him lightly, but you didn’t mind. You liked the idea of carrying his touch with you, hidden under your clothes.

You fell asleep tangled together, the movie long forgotten, his arm heavy over your waist. For once, he didn’t wake you up with his mouth, just let you sleep, his breath steady against your neck. The day had been soft, the night softer, but you knew him—he was only pacing himself. There was still time left in this trip, and the way he held you, even now, said he wasn’t close to done.

Third day

The third day hit different. You woke up to the sun already high, spilling gold across the bedroom, but it wasn’t the light that stirred you. It was him—his hands, his mouth, already on you before your eyes even opened. He was awake and hungry, his body pressed against yours, cock hard against your thigh. You barely had time to register the heat of him before he was kissing you, deep and messy, like he’d been waiting all night to start.

“Babe,” you mumbled, half laughing, trying to stretch, but he wasn’t having it. “Nuh uh,” he growled, voice rough with morning, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. His weight settled over you, heavy and warm, keeping you right where he wanted. You squirmed, mostly for show, because the way his eyes burned into yours was already making you wet. He knew it too, smirking as he nudged your legs apart with his knee.

He didn’t rush, though. That was the thing about him today—he was horny as hell, but he took his time. His lips found your neck, kissing over the fading hickeys from last night, adding new ones with slow, deliberate sucks. You arched under him, feeling his cock brush your pussy, teasing but not pushing in yet. “You’re killing me,” you whined, tugging at his grip on your wrists, but he just chuckled, tightening his hold.

“Patience,” he said, like he wasn’t the one practically shaking with need. He let go of your hands but only to slide down, kissing your chest, your stomach, pausing to flick his tongue over your nipples until you gasped. By the time he settled between your legs, you were aching, hips lifting toward him instinctively. He didn’t tease long—just a slow lick along your slit, enough to make you shudder, before he moved back up, lining himself up.

He pushed in slow, inch by inch, stretching you until you felt full, your breath catching at how perfectly he fit. He groaned, low and guttural, his forehead pressed to yours as he bottomed out. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, and then he was moving, deep and steady, each thrust rocking you into the mattress. It wasn’t fast or rough—just intense, like he was pouring everything into you, every thrust deliberate, hitting that spot that made your toes curl.

Your hands roamed his back, nails digging in when he angled his hips just right. He kissed you again, swallowing your moans, his tongue mimicking the slow drag of his cock. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, deeper, and he hissed, pace faltering for a second before he found it again, fucking you like he couldn’t get enough. The bed creaked under you, the air thick with the sound of skin on skin, your gasps, his quiet curses.

You felt it building, that tight heat coiling low in your stomach, and he knew it, could tell by the way you clenched around him. “Come on,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear, thrusting a little harder, just enough to push you closer. “Let go for me.” His hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow circles, and that was it—you came hard, shaking under him, moaning his name as waves of it crashed through you. He kept going, drawing it out, until his rhythm stuttered, and he followed, groaning as he spilled inside you, hips jerking with the last few thrusts.

He stayed there, buried deep, catching his breath, kissing you softly as you both came down. You were boneless, buzzing, already feeling that sweet ache between your legs. He finally pulled out, rolling onto his side, pulling you against him. “Good way to start the day,” he said, voice smug but warm, and you laughed, too blissed out to argue.

The rest of the day was a blur, not because it was bad, but because he’d already set the tone—exhausting in the best way. You tried to get up, maybe make breakfast, but every time you moved, he was there, kissing your shoulder, tugging you back to bed for “just a minute” that turned into more. He wasn’t as relentless as the first day, but the heat in his eyes never really faded. You managed to shower—together, which was a mistake, because his hands were all over you again, soaping your back, then lower, until you were pressed against the tiles, giggling and gasping.

By afternoon, you forced some normalcy, dragging him to the beach for a walk. The air was salty, the waves loud, and for a while, he was just your boyfriend again, not the insatiable guy from this morning. He held your hand, stole bites of your ice cream, laughed when you tripped over a rock. But you caught him staring, his eyes lingering on the way your swimsuit hugged your hips, and you knew he was only half-present, already thinking about getting you back to the villa.

Night came, and you were spent, curled up on the couch with takeout from some local place. He didn’t push for more sex, thank god, because you weren’t sure your legs could handle it. Instead, he pulled you close, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. He kissed your neck, your collarbone, leaving a few new hickeys, lighter this time, like he was just reminding you he was there. You leaned into it, too tired to do much but hum softly, letting his warmth lull you.

It wasn’t a bad kind of unbearable, not at all—just overwhelming, like he was pouring all his want into you, and you were trying to keep up. As you drifted off, his arm around you, you felt the weight of him, the promise of more tomorrow. You weren’t sure if you should be nervous or excited, but either way, you weren’t ready for this trip to end.

Fourth day

The fourth day, you both decided to hit the beach for real, not just a quick walk. The sun was blazing, the kind of heat that made your skin glow and the sand too hot to walk on barefoot. You slipped into your tiniest white bikini, the one you’d bought on a whim and never dared wear until now. It was barely there—thin strings tied around your neck and hips, the fabric hugging your curves so tight it left nothing to the imagination. When you stepped out of the villa, catching his eye, he froze mid-sip of his coffee, jaw tight. “Fuck, babe,” he said, voice low, already shifting in his seat. You smirked, knowing exactly what you were doing.

He grabbed the beach bag, tossing in towels and sunscreen, but you caught the bulge in his swim shorts as he moved. It was obvious, straining against the fabric, and he didn’t even try to hide it, shooting you a look like it was your fault. You just laughed, brushing past him, letting your hand graze his arm. The whole walk to the beach, you felt his eyes on you, burning into the sway of your hips, the way the bikini barely covered your ass.

The beach was quiet, just a few people scattered far off, the waves rolling in lazy and blue. You spread out your towels, and he rubbed sunscreen on your back, his hands lingering longer than necessary, fingers slipping under the strings of your bikini. You shivered, leaning into his touch, but swatted him away when he tried to untie a knot. “Behave,” you teased, though you weren’t sure you meant it.

The water was perfect, cool against the heat, but you’d always been a weak swimmer, nervous about anything deeper than your waist. He knew it, wading in with you, holding your hand as the waves lapped around you. When it got too deep, you panicked a little, clinging to him, arms around his neck. “I got you,” he said, voice soft but rough, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you close. You wrapped your legs around him underwater, your body pressed tight to his, and you felt him—hard, throbbing against you, even through his shorts. His grip tightened, eyes darkening as he looked down at you, water dripping from his hair.

You weren’t making it easy for him, and you knew it. Sitting on his lap underwater, your barely-there bikini slipping slightly, you could feel every inch of his cock pressed against your pussy. You shifted, just a little, and he groaned, low and quiet, his fingers digging into your hips. “You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, but he didn’t let you go, holding you tighter as you clung to him, waves rocking you both. You were scared to swim alone, so you stayed like that, bodies locked together, the water hiding just how close you were to losing it.

He carried you closer to shore, where the water was shallow, just lapping at your thighs. You were still wrapped around him, your bikini top riding up slightly, nipples hard against the wet fabric. He glanced around—nobody close, the beach empty enough to risk it. “Fuck it,” he said, and his hands moved fast, tugging at the strings of your bikini bottom. The fabric fell away, floating off in the water, and you gasped, half-laughing, half-nervous, looking around to make sure no one saw.

He didn’t care. His shorts were down just enough, his cock free, thick and hard as he pressed it against you. You were already wet—not just from the ocean—and he slid in easy, filling you with one slow thrust. You moaned, louder than you meant to, and he kissed you quick, swallowing the sound. “Shh,” he whispered, but his voice was shaky, like he was barely holding it together. He fucked you right there, standing in the shallow water, waves splashing around you, your legs still locked around his waist.

It was slow at first, deep rolls of his hips, his cock hitting just right with every thrust. You clung to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, trying to stay quiet but failing every time he pushed in deeper. The water made it different, every movement slick and smooth, your bodies rocking together like you were part of the tide. He held you up, hands under your ass, guiding you onto him, and you could feel him throbbing, so close to losing it.

You were lost in it, the heat of him, the cool water, the way your bikini top was barely hanging on, one breast spilling out as he fucked you harder. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he panted, lips brushing your ear, and that was enough to send you over. You came hard, clenching around him, biting his shoulder to muffle your cry. He groaned, low and desperate, thrusting a few more times before he spilled inside you, his hips jerking as he rode it out.

He held you there, still inside you, catching his breath as the waves kept rolling in. Your bikini bottom was long gone, but you didn’t care, not yet. He kissed you, softer now, grinning against your lips. “You’re trouble,” he said, and you laughed, still shaky, feeling the ache of him between your legs. He helped you fix your top, glancing around like he just remembered where you were. You waded back to shore, his arm around you, his bulge still half-there under his wet shorts, like nothing had changed.

The rest of the day, you lounged on the towels, sunning yourselves, but every time you caught his eye, you saw it—the memory of what you’d just done, the promise of more.

Fifth day

The fifth day, your last full day at the villa, felt like it carried the weight of the whole trip. You woke to soft kisses trailing across your shoulder, his lips warm and gentle, a stark contrast to the wildness of the days before. You stirred, blinking into the morning light, and found Sunghoon propped on one elbow, smiling down at you. “Last day,” he said, voice low, like he was already plotting something. You stretched, expecting him to pull you closer for more, but instead, he kissed your forehead and rolled out of bed. “Stay there,” he said, and you heard him rummaging in the kitchen.

He came back with breakfast—pancakes stacked high, drizzled with syrup, fresh fruit on the side, and coffee steaming in your favorite mug. He’d gone all out, even found a little tray to carry it on, setting it across your lap like you were royalty. You laughed, teasing him about being domestic, but the way he looked at you—soft, intense, like he was memorizing every second—made your chest tighten. You ate together, cross-legged on the bed, his hand resting on your knee, stealing bites from your plate just to make you roll your eyes.

The morning was lazy, spent tangled in each other, talking about nothing and everything—plans for when you got back, dumb stuff like what shows to binge next. But there was an edge to him, a quiet focus, like he was building up to something. You didn’t push, just let the hours slip by, soaking in the warmth of his body next to yours.

By afternoon, he disappeared for a bit, coming back with a sleek black box tied with a red ribbon. “For you,” he said, tossing it onto the bed. You raised an eyebrow, pulling the ribbon loose, and lifted the lid to find a dress—red, tight, the kind of thing that screamed confidence. It was stunning, cut low at the neckline, made to hug every curve. Under it, a pair of black heels with red bottoms, sleek and expensive. Your jaw dropped. “When did you even get this?” you asked, running your fingers over the fabric. He just shrugged, smirking. “Try it on.”

You did, slipping into the dress in the bathroom, feeling it cling to your body like a second skin. The heels made your legs look endless, and when you stepped out, his eyes went dark, his throat bobbing as he stared. “Fuck,” he said, simple, like he couldn’t find any other words. He crossed the room in two steps, hands on your hips, kissing you hard, but he pulled back before it went further. “Not yet,” he said, voice rough. “We’ve got plans.”

He wouldn’t tell you where you were going, just led you to the car, his hand on your lower back, guiding you like he couldn’t stop touching you. The drive was short, winding along the coast until you pulled up to a restaurant right on the beach. It was small, intimate, all glass walls and candlelight, the kind of place that felt like a secret. When you walked in, it was empty—just a single table set for two, right by the window, waves crashing softly outside. “You rented the whole place?” you asked, half-laughing, but he just nodded, pulling out your chair.

Dinner was perfect. The food was incredible—seafood so fresh it melted in your mouth, wine that went straight to your head. But it was him that made it unforgettable, the way he talked, laughed, looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. You were buzzing, warm from the wine, from the night, from the way his knee brushed yours under the table. You thought it couldn’t get better, that this was already the best night of your life.

Then he stood, clearing his throat, and your heart stopped. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box, and dropped to one knee right there, the ocean glowing behind him. “I don’t want this to end,” he said, voice steady but thick, like he was holding everything in. “Not this trip, not us. Marry me.” He opened the box, and the ring caught the candlelight, simple but perfect, just like him.

You froze, tears stinging your eyes, then nodded, too choked up to speak at first. “Yes,” you finally whispered, and he slid the ring onto your finger, standing to kiss you, deep and slow, while you laughed through tears, clinging to him. The waiter brought champagne, but you barely noticed, too lost in him, in the weight of the ring, in the promise of forever.

Back at the villa, the mood shifted. The door barely closed before Sunghoon was on you, kissing you like he couldn’t wait another second, hands tearing at the zipper of your dress. The red fabric hit the floor, pooling around your heels, and he groaned, stepping back to look at you in just the heels and your underwear. “You’re mine,” he said, and it wasn’t soft anymore—it was raw, possessive, like he needed to prove it.

He didn’t hold back. He pushed you onto the bed, not bothering to strip you fully, just shoving your panties aside as he kissed you, rough and hungry. His hands were everywhere—your breasts, your thighs, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. You were already wet, aching for him, and when he freed his cock, thick and hard, you moaned just at the sight. He didn’t tease, didn’t go slow like before. He thrust in deep, filling you completely, and you gasped, arching into him.

It was rough, messy, dirty in the best way. He fucked you like he wanted to mark you, claim you, like he was trying to pour everything into you. The bed shook, headboard banging against the wall, and you didn’t care about the noise. You scratched at his back, pulling him closer, needing more. He growled your name, flipping you over, yanking your hips up so he could take you from behind. His hands gripped your ass, spreading you, and he fucked you harder, deeper, each thrust pushing you into the mattress.

You came fast, screaming his name, your body shaking as he kept going, relentless, like he was chasing something primal. Sweat dripped from him, mixing with yours, the room thick with the smell of sex. He pulled out only to flip you again, spreading your legs wide, fucking you face-to-face, his eyes locked on yours. “Want you full of me,” he panted, and you knew what he meant, felt it in the way he moved, like he wanted to leave a piece of himself behind.

The intensity didn’t let up, but as the night deepened, it turned into something more intimate, more deliberate. He slowed just enough to kiss you, his lips soft but urgent, tasting of sweat and champagne. His hands roamed slower now, one sliding up to cup your face, the other gripping your thigh to keep you close. “You’re gonna be my wife,” he whispered against your mouth, voice shaking with emotion, and the words hit you hard, grounding you in the moment. You nodded, tears prickling again, and he kissed them away, his cock still buried deep, moving with purpose.

He shifted, laying you flat on your back, hooking your legs over his shoulders so he could go deeper, hitting that spot that made you see stars. “I want you to feel me tomorrow,” he said, eyes burning into yours, “and every day after.” His thrusts were steady, powerful, each one driving him closer to the edge, and you could feel it—his need to claim you, to make this night stick. “Gonna fill you up,” he murmured, voice low and possessive, “wanna see you carrying my kid someday. You want that?”

You moaned, the idea sparking something primal in you, your walls clenching around him. “Yes,” you gasped, nails digging into his arms, “want it, want you.” His grin was feral, but his eyes were soft, like he was seeing a future you were both building right there. He kissed you again, messy, all teeth and tongue, and his pace picked up, hips snapping harder, chasing that release. “Gonna give it to you,” he growled, “gonna make you mine in every way.”

You came again, harder this time, your body locking around him, pulling him in deeper as you cried out. He groaned, low and desperate, his thrusts stuttering as he hit his limit. “Fuck, here it comes,” he panted, and you felt him pulse, spilling inside you, hot and thick, his cock twitching with every spurt. He didn’t pull out, stayed deep, grinding into you like he wanted every drop to take, like he meant every word about filling you up. You shuddered, overwhelmed, your body still trembling as he kept going, slow rolls of his hips, milking every last bit of his release.

He collapsed onto you, heavy and warm, his breath ragged against your neck. You were both slick with sweat, cum leaking between your thighs, but he didn’t let you go, just shifted to his side, keeping you pressed against him. His hand slid down to your stomach, resting there, fingers tracing soft circles. “One day,” he whispered, voice hoarse but tender, “you’re gonna have my baby. I can’t wait for that.” He kissed you, slow and deep, like he was sealing the promise, and you melted into it, your heart racing with the weight of it all.

He cleaned you up after, gentle with a warm cloth, but his eyes never left you, like he was still hungry, still reveling in what you’d just shared. You fell back into bed, naked, tangled together, the ring on your finger glinting in the moonlight. He held you close, his hand never leaving your skin, whispering things too soft to catch—about forever, about the life you’d have, about the way he’d never let you go.

You drifted off like that, his warmth wrapping you up, the ache between your legs a reminder of him, of this night. It wasn’t just the sex, though that was burned into you—rough, raw, perfect. It was the way he looked at you, the way he promised you everything, the way his voice shook when he talked about your future. Unforgettable didn’t even come close. You’d carry this night, this trip, him, for the rest of your life.

masterlist

[hoonharem]

cherry - p.sh

pairing ; bsfsbrother!sunghoon x f!reader

synopsis ; you never thought that an unexpected obsession formed during your trip to southern italy would teach you one life’s cruelest lessons, never fuck your bestfriend’s brother

genre ; summer au, best friend’s older brother, forbidden romance, smut, a bit of fluff, a bit of angst

word count ; 4.8k

inspired by ; cherry - lana del rey

this work contains smut, mdni

cw ; p in v, unprotected sex, spit, choking, gagging, oral fem!receiving, mating press, edging

note ; hii, this is my first work so i’m a bit nervous!! lmk what you think of the layout and feedback in general is appreciated! :)

Was it wrong that you felt happy when your parents announced they wanted to take a vacation alone this year?

You sit opposite them at the dining table, your mom explaining herself for the hundredth time over. Clearly she felt guilty about it but you didn't mind. “You know its our anniversary during that time darling and I hope you understand that we love having you with us, of course we do, but 50th anniversaries are rather special and we’re booking a honeymoon resort.”

You feign a look of sadness to act like you’re listening but your mind is already elsewhere. It wasn’t that you didn’t like spending time with your parents, that wasn’t the problem at all, but now that a family vacation was out of the picture, joining Stella’s family in Italy was back in the conversation.

Soojin, or Stella as she liked to be called was your best friend, your ride or die. Years ago, when you moved to a new town, the Park family were your next door neighbours and you and Stella quickly became close, bonding over your hatred for the town and its people. You two had always felt suffocated in its environment, the way everyone knew everyone’s drama, everyone’s problems, everyone’s secrets. You promised each other that one day you would escape and explore the world together for that very reason.

You were over at her house so much that you were basically a part of the family. You had your thumbprint on their security system, the password to the garage door, and even your own designated chair at the dining table. Her mom used to jokingly call you two sisters, but honestly, that didn’t feel far off. You and Stella had grown up together, seen all of each other’s phases too. The cringe phase, the boy-obsessed phase, oh god- the emo phase, and yet your friendship was still going strong. From weekend sleepovers where you giggled and gossiped all night long to crying on each other’s shoulders after not feeling accepted in school, to smoking your first blunt together, you two had been through every whirlwind experience together. After all these years, you still struggled to express just how much admiration you held for her.

And now, it had come. This was the last summer you had left with her. In 3 months you were going to head North to New York City, to pursue a degree in arts while Stella would remain in your hometown. When you broke the news, you expected her to be angry at you because of the promise you made to travel together forever, but she simply smiled and told you she was proud of you and that she always knew you would make it far.

You felt a pit in your stomach thinking about being apart, you had never really imagined life without her, so imagine your relief and excitement when she proposed that you join her family on their vacation to Italy this summer. One last chance to have the time of your life with your best friend while you were both still young? No one could catch you dead saying no.

-

“Mom, please.” You beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from frustration. You sit across from her on the kitchen island, sipping on a mango smoothie as she prepped dinner for tonight. At this point, the conversation had been going on for far too long and both of you were running thin on patience. “I just don’t understand why you won’t let me go.” You huffed, used to getting your way.

Your mother sighs. “Sweetie, I’ve explained this to you. The Parks have done so much for you, your entire life! I just don’t want you to be a burden on them when they’re trying to have a family vacation. They're extremely sweet for offering but it’s a tough situation.”

“Ugh!” You exclaim and your mother shoots you a don’t-be-so-dramatic look. “They offered to have me! And besides, with you and daddy going to Mexico and Stella going to Italy, I’m going to be alone this summer. My last summer before college is going to be spent wasting away. It’ll be years before I see Stella again!” You pout, your eyes sparkling with hope as you see her expression soften, triumphant that you clearly struck a soft spot.

“We’ll see about it darling.” She sighs.

Even with her weary expression, all the tell-tale signs were there. She had been convinced. You stand up, satisfied as you go to text Stella the news.

And that’s how you find yourself going to the South of Italy for three weeks with the Parks: Stella, her mother and father, and her older brother Sunghoon.

Sunghoon had always been a little shy and introverted making him hard to talk to, your four year age gap not doing much to help create a relationship either. Despite that, Sunghoon had always tried being sweet to you. After many attempts of trying to talk to him over the years, you finally managed to break his shell the one time he rescued your prized possession, a teddy bear plush named Ben, from a tree branch. You still remember the warm hug he gave you when you cried over Ben’s stitching being torn and ever since that day, although you wouldn’t call yourself friends, the relationship shifted. It changed from nods of acknowledgement to smiles, from waves of greeting to hugs.

During your last years of middle school, you even developed a small crush on him but you never once told Stella, knowing she would have killed you. Once you turned fourteen, Sunghoon left to go for college and you hadn’t seen him since then. You had no idea what he was like now, his personality, his likes and dislikes, his interests. Honestly, the thought worried you a little. You just decided you would try sticking to Stella on the trip, hoping that things wouldn’t be awkward.

Only if you knew. Only if you knew what was about to happen, you never would’ve chosen to go on that godforsaken trip.

-

The last minute nature of your decision to join the vacation meant that tickets weren’t available on the same flight as the Parks, so you booked one for a flight that arrived in Italy just two days later. You didn’t mind however, you were just excited to spend time with Stella.

And so you arrive in the quaint beach town of Taormina, located on the shorelines of the island of Sicily. The drive from the airport to your location spans over rugged hills overlooking the Loian sea. You maintain small talk with the barely english speaking driver, chatting about what to do in town and what beaches to visit. A gasp leaves your mouth as the taxi comes to a halt outside a stunning Italian villa style Airbnb. You know the Parks aren’t exactly middle class, neither were you, but you weren’t expecting this much grandeur.

Cobblestone bricks line the pathway to the house, leaning up against the ivy covered walls. Heaps of colorful potted flowers are placed at the entrance and a wooden gazebo in the corner catches your eye. Stella is sitting in the gazebo, sipping tea. When she sees you, she jumps up in excitement and rushes over.

“You’re here!” She squeals and twirls you around as you both laugh excitedly. You hear claps of joy from the back as Shin-ah, Stella’s mom steps out of the front door, her husband, Ji-hun in close pursuit. You quickly wish the driver goodbye and thank him before hugging them both fondly.

“Gosh, we only just saw you a month ago and you’ve already become prettier!” Shin-ah exclaims, making you blush and immediately resort to your usual ‘humble’ deflections that you recited out like a poem whenever she complimented you.

You lean to the side, getting up onto your tip-toes to get a glimpse of the dark haired boy who just stepped out of the door. Sunghoon. His short black hair was now grown out into a mullet and he no longer held the smiley expression that his face once always used to carry. You glance at his arms, his thin tank top showing off his muscles, a striking difference to his previously scrawny build. He looks so different. He’s grown now and more confident, no longer the sweet, shy boy you used to crush on. Theres no doubt, Sunghoon Park has matured. He’s a man now. A fucking gorgeous man, that too.

Sunghoon murmurs a half-hearted greeting towards you, reminiscent of the way he used to speak to you before you two became comfortable. You’re not surprised-it had been years since you’d seen him. Traces of your previous dynamics were long gone by now. You return the soft greeting as Shin-ah ushers you into the house, Stella following behind, wheeling your luggage in.

“You must be hungry, come, we’ve already set the table.” And sure enough, the intricately carved wooden dining table was all set up with dishes, cutlery and a large pizza in the centre. Dinner with the Parks is comfortable as you go back and forth with them, discussing the trip’s itinerary, recent stories and more.

Shin-ah glances at Sunghoon before turning back to you. “So, you and Sunghoon haven’t seen each other in a while. He’s been asking what you’ve been up to.” It was horribly obvious that Sunghoon couldn’t care less about what you’d been up to. His mouth opens in annoyance at his mother’s words. “What? No I—" But he’s cut off by a sharp nudge from his father who scowls at him. Embarrassment pools inside of you and you laugh awkwardly before Shin-ah nods encouragingly for you to continue.

“Well uh— I’m going to NYU after this summer. I’m going to be studying art history and I’m hoping to get an internship with a local gallery this summer, after the trip of course. But yeah…” You trail off awkwardly as Sunghoon pretends to be interested. An awkward atmosphere settles over the table and you finish in silence.

After dinner, you head up to your room that you’ll be sharing with Stella. You’re sitting on the floor, unpacking your suitcase while she removes her makeup.

“Hey,” she turns to you, “I’m sorry about what happened with Hoon earlier. I don’t know why he’s acting like that.”

You wave it off. “No, don’t worry about it at all, it’s all good. I’m sure it’ll settle down in a while.”

She nods comfortingly but deep down you feel a little hurt. You knew that it wasn’t going to be the same but you didn’t expect him to be so cold.

-

After a few chaotic days of what felt like never-ending sightseeing and cold shoulders from Sunghoon, you finally collapse onto a picnic blanket out in the back-garden, your white sundress pooling around your knees. You roll over onto your stomach, kicking your legs into the air as you grab your book, the pages soft between your hands as you slowly flip through, trying to find where you left off. Pop. The sound of plastic popping as you open the box of glowing red cherries next to you. Your favorite.

You're a few pages in when a soft voice calls from behind you. “Hey.” You glance behind to see him standing there in a loose white shirt and khaki shorts, holding a book. He laughs softly as you scramble to straighten yourself. “No need for that, you can sit however you want.”

“No, no it's okay,” you shake your head, sitting up straight now, confused at his cheerful demeanour “what do you need?”

“I was wondering if I could join you,” he tilted his head, “you seem to be having fun.”

You squeeze internally. Something about Sunghoon was making you nervous right now but you plaster on a sweet smile nonetheless, “of course.”

You’re hyperaware of his every movement as he approaches and sits down next to you on the blanket. He holds up the book he had and it takes you a second to realise that both of you had gotten the same book to read, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’. You smile at him, “that’s funny.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He hums. “How’s Ben doing?”

You laugh, the anxious feeling in your stomach fading a little. There’s no need to be nervous in the first place, it’s just Sunghoon. “He’s doing okay. No more accidents since the last.”

The two of you fall into silence. He coughs. "Listen... I uh— I didn't mean to act that way when you first came."

You nod almost immediately. "You don't have to explain yourself, I get it, it's fine."

"No, I was acting like a jerk for no reason. I mean- you know how I am with people at first and I hadn't seen you in a while, it just took me a while to get used to. That's not an excuse for how I acted though, I'm sorry."

You peer at him. "I get it, I figured that's the reason you were acting distant. It's okay. I'm glad we can be pause normal again." You both look at each other and for a second you feel him glance at your lips but his eyes move away so fast, it's impossible to tell. He smiles softly at you.

-

Your legs are crossed as you lounge lazily on a chair on the balcony, taking in the view of the salty sea, waves lapping against the rocks. Once again, a box of perfectly round Italian cherries lay on the table behind you. You couldn't seem to get enough of them.

“You must really like these.” Sunghoon murmurs from behind you, pointing at the box of the sweet fruit. You smile lazily at him, not surprised by his interruption. Somehow, he had been finding you in all sorts of odd places recently, almost as if he was looking for you from the second you disappeared from view. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sunghoon thought you were pretty. You realised fairly quickly from the way his eyes flicked up and down whenever he saw you, resting on your tits for just a second more.

“They’re my favorite.” You nod, grabbing one and popping it into your mouth as he watches. Maybe it's the way he’s staring at you hungrily but a newfound confidence takes over you. You reach for another cherry but this time, you make sure to hold eye contact with him, looking up with big bambi eyes as your tongue swirls around the sweet fruit. You bite into it and the red juice dribbles down your chin, your eyes glinting. His finger instinctively reaches down, a millimetre away from your chin before you nod to give him permission.

He swipes at the juice on your chin, before pulling his finger back, licking it slowly. Your throat suddenly feels like it’s constricting. You should not be doing this— holy shit you should not be doing this. You stand abruptly, coughing slightly. He doesn’t react much but a slight smirk plays on his face. Pause. “I should go,” you stutter as you rush into the house, heart hammering in your chest.

You try your best to ignore him for the next few days because you had no idea what possessed you to do that. Your mind constantly replayed the moment. The way he stared at you. The way he touched you. The way he licked his finger. God you were so fucked. Every time you saw Stella, you couldn’t help but feel guilty but then you tried comforting yourself. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong, nothing actually happened.

You didn’t even notice what you were doing at first, your actions seemingly innocent in your mind. You just wanted to make the most of the summer clothes you owned and the heat in Taormina was intense, right? But your skirts were growing shorter and shorter by the day, your bikinis became skimpier and skimpier. That, accompanied by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when he came around, batted your eyelashes at him, knowing it made him crazy-you hadn’t even realised but that little incident between the two of you had made you develop a little obsession with Sunghoon Park, just like the one you had all those years ago. And you were desperate for his attention now.

Right from your shiny olive skin that glistened in the Italian sun to your long hair that swayed as you walked, Sunghoon Park knew you were gorgeous, even more so now that you were making it painfully obvious. He knew. He knew you were doing all of this entirely on purpose but that didn’t mask his staring as you lather on sunscreen, resting beside him in the sand in a floral pink bikini.

You know you have him.

"Hey can you help me with this?" You ask softly, holding out the bottle of sunscreen towards him. His jaw ticks but he takes the bottle from your hand.

"Actually," you smile sweetly, "on second thought, I think I'm done, what do you think?"

If looks could kill, you would strike dead at this very moment from the way he was looking at you. “What’s your game?”

You stare at him, not expecting him to say those words so soon. “What do you mean?” You pout, pretending to be oblivious, a little upset that you didn't get to have that much fun with him before he called you out.

He scoffs. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb. You like teasing me and then pulling away at the last moment, don’t you?” When you don’t respond, his expression hardens. “You’re trying to win a game you don’t even know how to play.”

Before you get the chance to respond, the two of you are interrupted as Stella runs to you, laughing.

“Hey are you having fun?” Stella smiles down at you.

“I’m having a great time, thanks.”

She nods as she moves to sit down on the sand, between you and Sunghoon.

Theres a moment of silence before you speak. “Hey Stells, thank you for letting me come. I appreciate it a lot. I would’ve had a terrible summer without you and I’m just really glad we get to spend time together before … you know …”

She smiles at you again. A genuine smile. “I’m gonna miss you. A lot. And I know you’re worried but i’m not, because I know we’ll always be friends. We’ve been through everything together and stupid New York isn’t going to change that.” As she pulls you in for a hug, you feel a pang in your heart. You love your friend and the last thing you want is for her older brother to come between you. But you just can’t help yourself.

You glance up at Sunghoon who's watching you two hug with an emotion in his eyes that you can't quite place. He meets your eyes and you shut yours, unable to look at him any longer. You hold onto Stella tighter, suddenly feeling disgusted with yourself. You're sickening. Sickening and selfish.

-

Your phone screen shows 4:36AM and sleep wasn’t coming. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you glance at Stella snoring beside you. You get out of bed slowly, the wood creaking beneath you. You desperately needed a walk to clear your mind. Stepping into your fuzzy slippers, you leave the room, entering the narrow corridor outside. Sunghoon’s door stands tall in front of your face, which you would have normally ignored, except today, streaks of light peek out of the crack at the bottom. Why is he awake?

You know you shouldn’t. You know you really shouldn’t but you do it anyways. You knock softly. A few moments pass and you think he might not come. Right as you’re about to leave, the door clicks open and he stands there in grey sweats, shirtless. You choke a little but he doesn’t notice, neither does he seem surprised to see you.

He looks you up and down and you realise what you’re wearing—a tiny pink lace-trim nightgown, barely covering anything. He’s smirking now. “Come in.”

“Uh I—“ You start to say as you begin to regret your decision but you’re cut off by his harsh tone, his smirk now faded, replaced with a hardened expression.

“That wasn't a question. Come. In.”

You swallow nervously as you follow him into the room and shut the door behind you. Sunghoon sits on the edge of the bed, motioning for you to stand in front of him. You do as he asks and now you're staring down at his face, your silky hair hanging loosely, brushing against his cheeks. He starts to grab harshly at your waist and you gasp slightly.

"You think this is funny huh? Playing all these games? Do you have any idea what you're doing at all?" When you don't respond he starts again. “What? Cat got your tongue? Are you all nervous now? Don't be, you started this after all."

You breathe out shakily, hands finding his neck. "Please—"

"Please what?" His smirk is back, he likes that he's finally the one in control. "Say you want me."

"God I want you, I do." You whine pathetically. And whatever little power you may have had over him was gone, he had claimed it back. His dark eyes glint sinisterly as he stands, picking you up by the waist and placing you down onto the bed. Your legs are raised, being held up by his hands as he presses kisses on your left ankle. He slowly makes his way down, nuzzling his nose into your inner thighs. His teeth lock onto your panties and you gasp as he drags them off, discarding them on the floor, leaving you exposed.

"Fuck you're beautiful."

He dives in again, his nose pressing against your clit as he laps harshly at your folds. You throw your head back, a jerk reaction to the sudden sensitivity. You cry out and feel him immediately stop what he was doing. You whine softly in annoyance. "Wow baby, it seems like you really want my sister to know I'm fucking you right now." You swallow harshly as his eyes shoot daggers at you. "Keep. Quiet."

He's looking at your pussy now. You wait, burning to see what he would do. And he spits on it. You gasp, biting your lip to stop the moan. He spits right on your pussy, using his fingers to spread his saliva around your messy area. He begins to lick up your folds again, pressing his tongue down on your clit.

You can't handle it. It's pathetic but you already feel a knot building up in your stomach. "Hoon— I'm going to—"

"Not yet," he spits out, coming up.

You moan weakly in protest but he doesn't seem to care. "You don't deserve to cum yet. You've not been a very good girl have you?" You shake your head.

His hands reach for his pants now, pulling them down in one quick move and you could see how painfully hard he is. Your eyes widen as he pulls out his cock. It was big. Too big. Bigger than you'd ever had before and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it. He laughs, looking at your expression. "Don't worry baby, we'll make it fit."

He pushes your legs up all the way and you were practically bent in half in front of him, your knees blurrily shifting in and out of your peripheral vision. He lines his cock up with your entrance and rubs the tip across your wet folds, groaning softly as his eyes shut. Without warning, he pushes it in and you shriek in surprise, causing him to shove his fingers into your throat. You're choking around his fingers now as he thrusts into you, quickening the pace. Tears stream down your face as you gag, you're close again, you can feel it, but so can he. Just as you're about to reach your high, he stops his motion again and you lean back into the bed, panting hard. You're desperate for release now but as you stare up at his fucked out face through your lashes, smirking down at you, you know he's not going to give you that release anytime soon.

So you go four more rounds. Four more rounds of chasing that desperate high that he pulls away from you at the last moment. You're fucked up now, sweating and panting, your hair splayed across your face as you cried and cried, begging him. The sun had risen now and it pooled in through the window, enveloping you in a warm glow, making your tan skin look golden.

"God baby, you look so fucking sexy right now." Sunghoon reaches an arm towards the desk nearby, where a small pile of digital cameras lay. Stella's digital cameras. The one's she had excitedly bought for the trip, wanting to capture every memory. He points the lens of one of them at you and you don't even have enough energy to protest. Click. And just like that, a picture of you in one of your most fucked up moments was captured forever. He tosses the camera aside, turning his attention back to you.

"You up for one more?"

Strings of gibberish come out from your mouth and he chuckles as he pushes into you once again. He thrusts in and out and you're moaning loudly this time but neither of you cared anymore. You're so sensitive at this point that it doesn't take long for that familiar feeling to arise again. This time, Sunghoon lets you have it. You let out a strangled moan as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Pure fucking euphoria. He collapses on top of you after cumming as well. You reach out, your hands tangling in his hair, stroking his face gently.

You realise you haven't kissed yet. You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his pink lips. He kisses you back immediately but there is no lust behind it. "You're a goddess, you know that?" He speaks, muffled against your arm. You laugh this time, reaching for the camera next to you. Click. Another picture. But this one is much cuter, the two of you staring into the camera, laughing as your arms are wrapped around him. Click. And another. He's kissing you and you just want to stay in this moment forever.

-

The remainder of the vacation is spent stealing glances and kisses with Sunghoon as you two sneak away at random times together. You visited his room every night, sometimes it was sex and sometimes you just wanted to cuddle.

If there was one thing you were sure of by the end of the vacation, it's that you were madly, madly in love with him. And he was in love with you too.

-

1 month later

You step into your room, flopping onto the bed, exhausted from your shift at the gallery. You pull out your phone to texts from both Stella and Sunghoon. Sunghoon's reads 'see you tomorrow :)' while Stella had texted to cancel your bar plans for the night, wanting to hang out at home instead. You almost feel relieved, too tired to even think of going to the bar. Instead, you quickly change your clothes and head over to the house next door. Shin-ah opens the door and she's delighted to see you as ever.

After exchanging some small talk, you head upstairs to Stella's room, briefly glancing at Sunghoon's door.

"Hey Ste—“ You stop. She isn't there.

You look around, confused for a moment before realising she's sitting outside on the balcony.

"Hey, what's up?" You smile at her as you take the seat beside her.

She doesn't respond, staring straight ahead into the pink sky. She's holding an envelope, nothing too special, just a plain white envelope.

"Do you know what this is?" She speaks for the first time, holding the envelope up, still refusing to look at you.

Your eyebrows furrow. "No?"

She breathes out, finally turning to meet your eyes. You recoil slightly when you see the wild anger looking straight at you. She opens the envelope slowly, almost teasingly. "You know..." She trails, "I recently sent in the film from the trip to be developed."

Your stomach drops.

She knows.

The envelope is finally open and she pulls out three photos. The first one of you laid down on the bed, fucked out with his cock still inside you, then you and Sunghoon are hugging naked, then you're kissing.

You're going to throw up.

"Look at me." She speaks softly, gently, but her voice is full of venom.

You look up to meet her eyes but you just can't do it. Your world is spinning.

"I want you to go to New York," her voice drops to a whisper, "and never come back. I never want to see you again. I never want you to see my brother ever again. Do you understand?"

You're nodding now, pleading silently, tears streaming down your face but you know it's not going to do anything.

She takes your nod as a yes. "Good, then we're clear."

[hoonharem]

what are you wearing?

riding a sweaty sunghoon because he looked too good in tank tops and you almost took it personally.

“you really couldn't wait, could ya?” dom!sunghoon x horny!reader wc𓈒 1.1k — not proofread! ✴ fluff, unprotected sex (protect urself guys), riding, p in v, cursing, banter, praise & degradation kink, pet names (hoon, sweetheart, doll..), implied multiple rounds, mdi!

𝑚. 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

you were lying down on the couch, phone in one hand as you scrolled absent-mindedly through many different social medias, a blanket draped lazily around your lap and a cooking show passing on tv that you tried to pay attention to but soon gave up. even if some videos caught your attention, nothing really entertained you. sunghoon promised you he'd be home by 8:30 from gym, and it was already 8:46, wait, 8:47.

when the door opened up with a loud thud and not-so-careful steps approached, you wondered whether you'd pretend to be sleeping, or if you'd look like you were fully invested in the contestants baking pumpkin pies. he was in the living room sooner than you'd calculated, and he caught you mid changing position, fixing your hair unstoppably.

“oh, so you're finally ho-” you muttered pretending not to be embarrassed, but stopped mid sentence as he walked in: big ass grin, confident steps, bangs sticking to his head with sweat from the workout and a cap that covered half of his face. that alone would've finished you up in any situation, but yeah, there was more. black compression tank top, defining his abs and clinging to his chest like a second skin.

“what the fuck are you wearing?” was the only thing you asked after checking him out for a few seconds, careful not to let your jaw drop or something. he looked confused, clearly not expecting anything but an angry version of you. his eyes followed yours, trying to catch up on what you were referring to.

“why? is it bad?”

“not at all, that's the problem. i was supposed to be mad at you.”

“yeah, sorry for being late. i know i promised you i would be on time” he tried, but your mind wasn't there anymore. you weren't annoyed anymore. you were just with an unmistakable heat pooling on your stomach and your gaze followed his ab lines like a predator. the fact that he was late didn't matter whatsoever. not now.

“this is not what you should be worried about now, hoon”

“oh god. what have i done?”

“you wouldn't know. just come and fix it.”

sunghoon snapped. one second he was staring blankly at you, trying to follow your mind, and the other one he was dropping his bag, moving hurriedly to be all over you. his eyes darkened instantly, and you felt your stomach twist when you stood up from the couch and his sweaty, firm hands found your waist, pulling you closer. inch by inch pressed against his skin. air between you seeming almost shared.

“is this your definition of ‘fixing it’, sweetheart?”

you hummed, agreeing. “it did involve something like this”

he smirked, gaze dropping to your mouth. you were sure he'd try to postpone it, to edge you, but he started it, and now he'd have to cope. you leaned in, lifting your chin and tiptoeing to kiss him. and it was the type of kiss that had your mind spiraling, the ones that even the tip of your toes curled with the soft encounter of your lips followed by the mind-blowing passage of his tongue inside your mouth.

sure, he was a bit surprised by your sudden courage, he could give you this one, but it was nothing that would lead him to lose control. sunghoon always had a way to silently remember you that he was in charge, and right now? it was the way his grip on you tightened as he dropped to the couch, forcing you to sit on top of him, legs holding on to his waist for dear life.

you breathlessly gasped, startled, your fingers instantly hooking on the collar of his black tank top to keep you steady, grounded to his heat.

the touch of your tongues started off as soft, like a coordinated dance both of you were dancing, but it soon built up to something rougher, warmer, with desire dripping from your mouths.

but when he tilted his head slightly and bit your bottom — and already swollen — lip?

you completely lost it.

and worse, fully moaned into his mouth, the sound coming out of your throat strained, hoarse.

“oh doll, look at you, already turned on?” he darkly chuckled, breaking the kiss and lipping his own bottom lip now, as if trying to collect every single trail of yourself you could've let on him.

sunghoon didn't wait for your answer, and before you knew it, he leaned in to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck and collarbone, sliding your beige shirt to the side to give him more access to your skin.

he nibbled on your sensitive skin, leaving red marks behind like he was worshipping something sacred. his hands touched you almost everywhere, mostly grabbing your waist to keep you in place. you readily tilted your head, allowing him to do everything and panting softly as the cherry on top.

despite your whines, he was patient, taking his time to suck on your neck and sliding to your shoulder with caution. when the fabric started to get on his way, his long fingers found the hem of your shirt as he gently took it off.

his gaze dropped on you as if he was food deprived, flying pecks returning to flood your skin and leave your head dazed. when you whimpered again, he finally gave in, quickly unbuttoning your bra with the ability of who'd done this thousands of times, cupping your tits carefully like they were precious.

“you look so fucking gorgeous it's killing me. my god—” your nipples hardened and he smirked, visibly satisfied. when his tongue finally found them, you squirmed on top of him, the sudden acknowledgement of his bulge forming under you now both overwhelming and pleasuring.

“hoon, don't tease—”

“don't be so eager, sweetheart. even though you look beautiful begging, this is just the start and you're already acting all slutty” he bit one of your nipples harder only to watch you tremble, the degrading tone laced in his hoarse tone.

your fingers found his scalp, holding on to it firmly and gripping it when he sucked on a certain spot that made you go dumb. your whines turned into moans, sinful sounds leaving your throat beautifully, the noise finding his ears like music.

your hips rolled, trying to find friction between your bodies. because you were not in the mood of holding back, and when his bulge teased you so good? there was no point in pretending.

“holy shit— keep going like that.” he momentarily stopped his mouth, and you swore the face he made was unreal. eyebrows furrowed, eyes fluttering closed, biting bottom lip, trying to keep himself still.

you kept going, sometimes bouncing on his lap. soon, your arousal couted his black leggings and a wet spot could be seen. you shut your eyes, the fabric keeping you from coming undone but at the same time leaving you overwhelmed, the pleasure building up.

“you really couldn't wait, could ya? so fucking desperate.” his grip on your waist tightened, signalling you to stop, to stay still. despite your own desires, you did exactly as you were said, and sunghoon quickly took off your shorts and pantie and layered his shorts and boxer just below his knees, not really caring about it. when you took a glance of his face, he was flustered, that one concentrated face you were crazy about getting even redder when his tip teased your hole and you fully bounced on it, sitting up on him.

his hardened dick had already filled spots that made you see stars when you started to move your hips under his control, the action now feeling way more intimate and way better.

“always so tight around me— shit, keep bouncing.” and oh you did. you alternated between bouncing, grinding and riding, your hips moving senselessly as your breathing came out short, uneven. the moans that left your mouth filled the living room and the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin became louder when he bottomed out, thrusting on you from below.

your thighs burned, but the desire was bigger, the pleasure was better. soon, you felt your legs sore, muscles almost screaming — but not as loud as you did, of course — sunghoon noticed immediately, and he became rougher, grip tight to tell you that you only had to stay still.

his thrusts were deliberate, hitting your g-spot every single time, aligning perfectly with the way your hips rolled. he groaned — guttural, loud, rough. — signaling that he was close, or that you were close, you didn't really know. however, when your nails began to scratch him and your hips faltered, he understood perfectly what it meant without saying a single word. because there was no need to, obviously.

he leaned in to suck against your neck one more time, his kisses now slower, savoring your skin like a whole meal. his thrusts lost a bit of its pace, and when he came, he announced it with a lewd, raw sound, gripping the curve of your hips like it was something he wanted to destroy. to ruin completely

because he fills you up all at once, burying himself inside you in one smooth, deep thrust, stretching you open, pressing so much you swear you feel him in your stomach. “filling you up so good. feel full don't you?”

“shit, hoon— s’ full” you cried, your cum mixing with him as you released. you buried your head on the crook of his neck and he got the cue to fuck you through all of it, leaving you empty and filling you up simultaneously. the scent of him filling up your nostrils as your mind blanked deliciously.

you bit his skin as if felt too much, and both of you didn't move for a second, your breathing irregular, the smell of sex filling the room.

when he did say something, it felt more like a confession from how low it was, despite the dirty words that would leave his mind. “you don't think we're over, right? you asked for it. take it.”

“fuck, hoon, ngh— shouldn't you be tired from gym?”

“not at all. i workout in order to keep up with you, horny girl”

and you knew that would be a very, very long night.

[hoonharem]

jealous bf hoon + choking 🤔

ughghhh i love jealous hoon with a choking kink the obsession is #unhealthy !!

✧ tw. smut (18+ mdni!), possessiveness, choking, degradation, unprotected sex (wrap it!), manhandling

if there's one thing about sunghoon, it's that he gets jealous easily. maybe overly jealous—he doesn't like you talking to other guys, hates when they look at you for too long, and despises when either of you laugh a little too hard at each other's jokes.

this is exactly what was happening when you and sunghoon attended a friend gathering, where an acquaintance started to converse with you, looking a little too comfortable, at least for sunghoon. and how does he take out his resentment? by fucking you dumb.

he quickly makes an excuse for you both to leave, dragging you home, jaw clenched the entire ride back. next thing you know, you barely get a word in before your clothes are stripped off, your back pressed into the bed, thighs lifted to your chest as his cock relentlessly bullies your pussy, now growing more sensitive as you feel every inch of him stretch you out.

"hoon... sh-shit!" you moan out, eyes barely able to stay open. "you want attention that fucking bad? i'll show you." he tuts, his fingers moving from your hip to your neck, wrapping around your throat—not too tight, but enough to make your breath hitch. no coherent words leave your mouth, not with the way he’s choking you or the way his tip repeatedly hits your g-spot, making your pussy tighten around him.

"say it. say you're mine." he demands. his grip on your neck loosens just a little, but his thrusts slow down, his cock dragging in and out of you agonizingly slow, forcing you to feel every inch of him as he watches you struggle to get the words out.

"m' yours, fuck..." you manage, eyes tearing up as you look up at him. he smirks in response, absolutely loving the sight of you right now. completely fucked out, teary-eyed and submissive, cock buried deep inside you while the veins in his arm become visible, wrapped around your pretty neck.

© emisluvr 2025. all rights reserved.

[hoonharem]

ghosted ― p.sh

anon: HIMBO SUNGHOON?

WORDCOUNT: 1.5k WARNINGS: jay kisses sunghoon's bulge through his pants as a dare, and heeseung drinks bong water. virginity loss note: tumblr wont let me post it as an ask but whatever

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

HIMBO: an attractive but unintelligent man.

Don't get it twisted, it's not that Sunghoon isn't intelligent, he's just...a little bit behind on the ways of the dating world. He's unaware of how to speak to women, how to touch them, how to even turn them on.

That's why he's here. A senior in college with not a single notch on his bedpost. No names under his belt. In fact, he's still a virgin unless you count that time Jay was dared by Heeseung to kiss his dick through his pants. Why was that the dare? Probably because Jake dared Heeseung just moments prior to drink the bong water, and he wanted to make them do something equally as "embarrassing" out of spite. It's the fact that Jay was supposed to turn down the dare, it's the fact that it wasn't supposed to feel that good if it were to happen.

Jay didn't turn the dare down, and it did feel good for Sunghoon. Regardless of the fact that it was one of his own best friends. All he did was close his eyes, and pretend that little dick-kiss was a girl about to take his pants off.

The boner for the remainder of the night was embarrassing though. At least Jay didn't make fun of him for it, if anything, it gave him an ego boost. Still.

Year after year Sunghoon has been hit on, and each sexual interest ends up with the ick. It's because he lets the moves fly right past his head, or he fumbles too hard, sweats too much, acts too nervous when a girl is throwing herself at him. If anything, he ends up making it look like he's uninterested when the reality is that he's so...so...interested. "You act too desperate." Heeseung waves his friend off, rolling his eyes. "There's a reputation for you here on campus y'know." "Yeah but, there's got to be someone out there who is okay with that, right?" Sunghoon groans, slouching on the couch and pouting.

"Not here." A scoff.

It's a given that Heeseung, a man who has put his dick in at least twelve different girls on this campus, has grown bored of Sunghoon's issues. But like, crazy how people think Sunghoon is arguably one of the hottest men here, yet none will give him the chance to touch them at this point. Did he really fumble all of them? Some that he hasn't even he met yet solely because of his experience with other girls? Sunghoon pouts harder, looking apologetic at his friend. "You know-" Jake's voice suddenly rings out, having just come out of the bathroom after being in there for like an hour. "That university across town is known for the sluts." Sunghoon perks up a little bit, nearly leaping for the chance. "I doubt the rumors about you have reached that far, you could always go over there and mingle or something." ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・ Mingle. Sunghoon was supposed to be fucking mingling, not locked behind some random person's bedroom door with a girl ripping her shirt off?! How did he even get here? What did he do for things to go so well tonight? You can answer that. You were ready to leave the party, bored, totally unimpressed by the same faces weekend after weekend. Then, boom, in comes a guy from a different campus, eyes downcast to the floor, wandering about awkwardly. "Fresh meat." You had nudged Sunoo in the side, nodding to the new guy. "Oh my god," Sunoo's eyes widened. "That's the guy who ghosted my cousin!" You, in all of your tipsy glory, saw that as a challenge. So, this guy thinks he can just ghost people? You've seen Sunoo's cousin, she's kind of fucking hot? Who does he think he is? "That's him?" You eye him, listening to Sunoo's complaints. "Yeah, she said she was supposed to go to his house but he just, never sent the address and eventually blocked her. She was pretty upset, said he was really hot-"

Well, she wasn't wrong. Unfortunately for her though, you barely know her and this dude can't ghost you if you're right in front of him, right? Right. You had walked away from Sunoo, straight to the new face and instantly started your usual routine. Oh man, was he fucking easy to get in this room. His eyes shined much more innocently than you expected though, coming from a guy who fucks over one of the hottest girls in town. His little head tilt, letting his hair fall into his eyes as his ears and cheeks drown in the color red. You look at him, or, well, you hover over him. On your knees with your legs spread, you straddle him as you stare down. You tilt your head too, feeling how hard he's gotten. No one gets this hard over a very casual pair of tits being exposed. Hell, you weren't even wearing your sexy panties tonight. Yet, look at him. "Heard you like to ghost girls." You chuckle from above, reaching down to tug at his shirt. "Too good for us?" Sunghoon is a little too quick to shake his head, allowing you to lift his shirt up and above his head. And, oh fuck, goddamn. The way his hair sticks up all over and he just...he just looks at you with those pretty eyes. "Hm? You gonna ghost me too?" He shakes his head again, mostly remaining silent because if he's being honest, if he tries to talk he might just end up fucking moaning at this point. You lean down, real close to his ear as you intentionally drag your ass against your bulge. "No?" You laugh. "What do I have that they don't?" Sunghoon thinks long and hard, long. and. hard. "You're kind of aggressive." He mumbles. That catches you off guard as you sit back up, flicking his nipples playfully before watching him literally bite back a moan. "Am I?" He nods, tensing his hips and pressing his cock directly against you. "Yeah, most girl let me-" He stops to moan as you pinch his nipples now. "Fuck, okay, listen."

You pause all movements, giving him the floor if that's what he wants.

"I'm a virgin." You laugh first. You laugh hard, but then when you look at him and he has that serious expression on his face...the way his cock starts to soften from under you...oh. "Wait, seriously?" Well, that explains it, you guess. He nods shyly, almost trying to cover his face with his arms but he can't because, well, your tits are right there and his eyes struggle to not remain glued to them. Like hell he's gonna fumble again.

"Does that ruin it for you?" He mumbles again, wanting so badly to use his mouth on you.

"No?" You roll your eyes, now intentionally grinding against him again. "Just lay back, you're way too hot to not know how to use this...thing." And you emphasize your works with another harsh grind, almost relishing in the size of it.

You're shocked, actually, that no one has found themselves riding it by now. You're definitely gonna ride it though.

Ride it, you do. Gently at first, letting him get a feel of what it's like to have a pussy all wrapped up around him. Goddamn is he pretty too, eyes nearly crossed the second you get the tip in, you could only imagine how he will react when he's balls deep.

His reaction doesn't disappoint either. You can feel his fingers digging into you at the hip, and you're sure he's curling his toes if that slack jaw and eyes rolled back look on his face is anything to go by. You've barely even moved by this point and he looks like he's literally experiencing god.

"Sunghoon?" You reach out to him sweetly, grabbing his hands and moving them to both of your tits. "You can fuck me, you know."

Another surprise to you is that he just fucking listens. You almost hear a grunt in his throat, as if to say "finally" when he bucks his hips up, hands groping, feeling, relishing in the feeling of such a pretty girl on top of him right now.

Fuck, he's always imagined what it would be like to see a girl bouncing on him, but he never knew it would feel like this. It's...so good. He can barely see straight as he relentlessly fucks up, as if his entire life depends on it.

To you, there's no rythmn or rhyme to his movements, but it still feels good. You know he's just...experiencing. Which is fine, surely he'll get you off later, right? You'll teach him if he'll let you.

Because let's be real, seeing such innocent eyes looking up at you as he makes his attempt as eating pussy for the first time? That would be a sight to behold, as if the face he's making right now isn't all on its own.

Man, you like Sunghoon.

And goddamn if he doesn't like you too.

[hoonharem]

loose - p.sh

박성훈 as your bf that you wake up by sucking off ⊹ ࣪ ˖ wc. 707 ୨ৎ mature drabble ✧ w. smut (18+ mdni!), oral sex (m. receiving), explicit language, hair pulling, light choking, not proofread

the soft glow of morning sunlight filters through the blinds, shining over sunghoon's sleeping form. he's lying flat on his back, his body stretched out lazily, one arm draped over his forehead. his toned abs peek beneath his shirt, slightly lifted in his sleep, accentuating his v-line as his sweatpants hang loose, practically begging to be pulled down.

gosh, he looks so good, even in his sleep. a little too good, and your wetness starts pooling in your panties, just from the sight of him and every little feature. your eyes lock on the evident rise of his cock pressing up against his sweatpants, like it wants to be free.

you move on the shared bed, settling right in between his sprawled-out legs. gently, you tug his sweatpants down, careful not to wake him—yet. his cock springs free, close to your face. you press your lips together, staring at him for a moment, unable to stop yourself.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to take him right then and there. how could you not? his cock was quite literally a work of art, bright and proud in your face, screaming to be inside you.

your lips wrap around the tip, licking up any pre-cum that’s already there. you hum at the salty taste, your tongue flicking over his sensitive head, collecting every drop. the sound of him groaning in his sleep makes you go slower, savoring every inch, every second. your mouth slowly takes all his inches in, working yourself up and down his length.

your eyes slightly widen when you feel a hand on the back of your head, gently but firmly pushing your head down further on his cock. "fuck, angel.." he groans, eyes still shut, his voice thick and sleepy as he lays there and lets you suck him.

his hand doesn't let go, guiding you deeper, pushing you to take more of him. his cock hits the back of your throat, slightly choking you. you go faster, eager to bring him closer to the edge. your mouth works on him, your lips pulling away just enough to tease, then taking him all the way back down, your tongue swirling around his base.

the moans and grunts he lets out get louder, more desperate, and you can tell he's completely lost in the pleasure. "fuck..." he groans again, gripping your hair tighter as you continue to suck him, feeling him twitch in your mouth. his body jerks slightly, as if he’s trying to fight the growing sensation, but he can’t, and you know it.

you speed up again, the rhythm of your head bobbing matching the desperation you’re feeling. his cock hits the back of your throat again and again, your mouth getting wetter, drool dripping down your chin as the sound of your sucking fills the room.

his fingers tug tighter on your hair with each groan he lets out, “sh-shit, so good... gonna cum.” his voice cracks with the intensity, and you can feel his cock twitch again, his breathing shallow as he fights to hold back his orgasm.

but you don’t stop. you increase the pressure, your tongue pressing against the sides of him, feeling every vein as you go down on him again. you want him to lose it, want him to fall apart in your mouth, and you know you’re about to get him there.

you feel him twitch once more before the warm, salty release fills your mouth. his cock pulses against your tongue, and you swallow it down eagerly, feeling the hot liquid slide down your throat.

he lets out a low moan, eyes still closed as his body relaxes against the bed. “swallow, baby,” he murmurs, and you do just that, licking your lips as you take every drop he gives you.

you pull away slowly, eyes meeting his, watching him stir just enough to lift his head. a lazy smirk plays on his lips as he stretches, letting out a satisfied groan. he pulls you up to kiss him, tasting the remnants of himself on your tongue.

has this become his favorite way of waking up? yes. will he repay you by eating you out the next morning? oh, without a doubt.

© emisluvr 2025. all rights reserved.

[hoonharem]

SWEET INHIBITIONS | PARK SUNGHOON

summary: you know what they say, never answer a call from your boss when you’re drunk off your mind—oh, and never tell him that he desperately needs to get laid.

word count: 6.4k

warnings (18+): smut. swearing. pet names (sweetheart, baby). alcohol. kissing. heavy petting. spanking. semi-public sex. rough sex. office sex. unprotected sex. light teasing. minor brat taming (?). slight dacryphilia.

MINORS DNI!!

A/N: been dying to do an office siren fic for the longest time, lol. and being a huge fan of ‘the devil wears prada’ this just had to be done.

People-watching was a secret pleasure.

When writer’s block struck or your motivation dipped, your gaze naturally wandered across the sea of Vogue employees—the editorial department, buzzing with energy, some typing furiously, others fighting off yawns as they cradled half-empty lattes.

It was a vibrant chaos, punctuated by the occasional sound of heels clacking or phones ringing.

For the past week, your unofficial subject of interest has been Audrey Klein, one of the junior beauty editors.

Every day at precisely 1:00 PM, Audrey would reapply her signature lipstick—Dior Addict 922, a sultry red that had headlined Vogue’s “Power Lips for Winter” feature last month.

She’d peer into her compact mirror with laser precision, tousle her bangs into submission, and sashay toward the pantry with the confidence of a supermodel strutting the red carpet.

Her heels echoed through the bullpen, catching a few glances like she anticipated. The cacophony of staff chatter and the steady hum of keyboards seemed to fade when she passed.

“She’s at it again,” Anton, your cubicle neighbor and the office gossip, murmured as he perched on the edge of your desk.

He nodded toward the pantry where Audrey now leaned against the counter, laughing at something your features editor, Park Sunghoon, had just said.

“Do you think he even notices her?”

Park Sunghoon was practically a Vogue institution. At a young age, he gracefully ascended to Features Editor after a meteoric rise from editorial assistant.

With his impeccable tailoring, razor-sharp instincts, and a résumé that included stints at L’Officiel and Harper’s Bazaar, Sunghoon embodied everything Vogue stood for: brilliance, beauty, and an aura of untouchable mystery.

But the real excitement around the office? Sunghoon was devastatingly handsome. Unfairly so, as Anton liked to say.

He was like a dreamboat from Ancient Greek mythology, beautiful eyebrows, perfectly aligned moles, hypnotic brown eyes that seemed to see right through you—and a smile that drove the young seasonal interns crazy, though that was a very rare occasion.

And yet, he was maddeningly aloof, entirely unbothered by the countless women who lingered a little too long at his desk.

“Dedication or desperation?” you mused, glancing at Audrey. “I’ll never understand why everyone worships him. He’s…exhausting.”

Anton snickered, twirling a pen effortlessly between his fingers. “He’s also fine.”

He stops, tapping the pen against his chin in pensive thought, “I guess his beauty is an apology for his scary personality.”

Anton was only partially right.

Sometimes, you hated the way your stomach would twist whenever he glanced at you during a meeting, willing away your unfathomable fantasies—because, at the end of the day, his looks couldn’t overcompensate for his personality.

Park Sunghoon terrified you.

Not in the obvious sense though. He wasn’t loud or explosive. Sunghoon didn’t need to raise his voice to make his point. He could slice through your confidence with a single look or a flat, unimpressed tone.

And yet, despite the intimidation, you couldn’t help yourself.

You were stubborn. Always had been. And that stubbornness meant that every time he ripped apart one of your articles—usually with a sigh and a biting comment—you couldn’t just sit there and take it.

You’d defend yourself, argue your points, even as your palms got clammy and your voice wavered just slightly under the weight of his simmering gaze.

“You’re insufferable,” Sunghoon said once, after a particularly heated debate over a piece you’d written about emerging fashion tech trends.

You’d stayed late in his office, going back and forth until he finally waved a hand and let you keep half your original draft.

“And you’re impossible,” you’d shot back, clutching your notes to your chest like a shield.

But you’d do it anyway. You’d rewrite your drafts, re-interview sources, and pull all-nighters just to meet his exacting standards. No matter how stubborn you were, the truth was you always gave in.

You did everything Park Sunghoon requested—eventually.

And maybe that was what frustrated you most. Because no matter how hard you fought, he always won in the end.

It wasn’t just you, either. Sunghoon had a way of getting under everyone’s skin. You’d seen seasoned journalists break under his criticism, storming out of meetings or retreating to the bathroom to cry.

He was unrelenting, unapologetic, and always right—or at least, he acted like he was.

Still, despite everything, you weren’t like the others. You didn’t quit. You didn’t crumble.

And that, in itself, was something of a miracle.

Sunghoon had once acknowledged it in his own infuriating way—after tearing apart one of your drafts and sending you back to rewrite for the third time, he’d leaned back in his chair and said, “You’re stubborn. But you’re good. That’s why you’re still here.”

It wasn’t a compliment—not really. But coming from him, it almost felt like one.

So yes, Park Sunghoon intimidated you. He frustrated you. Sometimes, you even despised him.

You grumbled, returning to the half-written article on your screen. “101 Tips to Get the Guy” wasn’t your finest pitch, but it had been approved begrudgingly.

Now you were stuck trying to make a glorified listicle feel worthy of Vogue.

“Oh- three o’clock,” Anton whispered knowingly before retreating to his own desk.

The sound of Sunghoon’s voice startled you.

“(Y/N),” Sunghoon greeted, appearing beside you. His tone was just as sharp, cutting through the din of the office.

He held a coffee cup—likely a black coffee, cold foam, his usual drink of choice—and a clipboard tucked under his arm.

“How’s the article coming?”

You turned, only to be met with the sharp lift of his brow. He adjusted his glasses, the motion precise and maddeningly deliberate.

“Don’t bother lying.” His voice was cold, laced with quiet disdain. “I’ve seen you staring at Audrey all day.”

“I wasn’t…” you trailed off, voice growing small as his brown eyes narrowed slightly, looking away as your face flushed.

“Sure,” he said dryly. “Bring me what you have. My office. Ten minutes.” Sunghoon didn’t wait for a response, striding back to his glass-walled corner office.

You winced, shrinking into a puddle while Anton flashed you a sympathetic smile. “Great,” you groaned under your breath, scrambling to pull your draft together.

Sunghoon’s office was as intimidating as the man himself: a sleek mix of polished mahogany and chrome, with towering shelves of art books, Claude Monet impressions and archival issues of Vogue.

He leaned against his desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking like a dreamy editorial spread come to life.

But this somehow felt more reminiscent of a REM Nightmare.

“Let’s see it,” he said, motioning for you to hand him the printout of your article.

You stood awkwardly, clammy hands clasped behind your back as he scanned the first few paragraphs.

The silence was deafening.

Crashing a friend’s psychology class one time in college, could only tell you so much about body language.

Furrowed brows, then raised. Short, irritated huffs between each paragraph—the bottom line? It wasn’t looking good.

After a moment, he sighed—long and dramatic—before dragging a hand through his hair and shoving his glasses up into it.

Why did he have to look so hot when he was disappointed?

“This… reads like something out of Seventeen magazine.” Sunghoon dropped the pages onto his desk with a thud.

“Excuse me?” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

“This isn’t Vogue, sweetheart,” he continued, ignoring your indignation. “This is…fluff. A cute checklist for teenagers who are still figuring out contouring. We don’t do fluff here. We do substance. Style and sophistication. This? It’s juvenile.”

Your fists clenched at your sides. “With all due respect, Sunghoon, the concept was approved. I’m simply delivering exactly what was asked for.”

Sunghoon straightened, his sharp gaze pinning you to the spot. “And I’m asking you to elevate it. Vogue readers don’t need ‘101 Tips to Get the Guy.’ They need insight. Depth. Why not reframe it? Something like, ‘The Science of Seduction: Beauty Hacks Proven to Work.’”

“That’s…” You paused, begrudgingly acknowledging it was a better angle.

“It’s Vogue,” Sunghoon said simply, leaning back. “Rewrite it. And please, try not to bore me this time.” He waved you off like a rejected textile, dismissing your presence as he made a call.

The walk back to your desk felt much like a walk of shame, slamming your notebook down with a frustrated sigh.

“Rough?” Anton asked, biting into his sandwich.

“Rough is an understatement. Sunghoon called my article juvenile,” you hissed, collapsing into your chair.

Anton shrugged. “He’s probably just stressed y’know? Winter issues are always chaotic.”

“Yeah, but chaotic doesn’t give him the right to be a jerk,” you shot back. “Honestly, he just needs a good lay.”

Anton almost choked on his food, “with his face?” He smirked, “He probably gets more action than anyone here.”

“With his personality?” you countered, turning to his office.

Over the frosted partition, you could spot him pacing, grateful you weren’t the one being yelled at over the phone.

“Highly doubtful.” You continued.

Anton raised an eyebrow. “I…wouldn’t be so sure. And if I didn’t know better, I’d say you wouldn’t mind finding out yourself.”

Your glare could’ve melted steel. “Not even in my worst nightmares.”

But even as you said it, your mind wandered—briefly—to how Sunghoon had looked leaning against his desk, adjusting his tie with his sleeves rolled up, tearing your work to shreds.

Infuriating. And annoyingly hot.

But he was still an insufferable prick. So, you pushed the thought aside and focused on your screen, hammering out an article that might—just might—finally earn a fragment of his approval without the usual snide remarks.

The city sparkled under the glow of Manhattan’s nightlights, alive with the usual buzz of life roaring in the busy streets.

The day of work was finally over, and you, Anton, and Yunjin, fresh from the trenches of Vogue, stood on the corner of Fifth Avenue impatiently flagging down a cab in the gelid air.

Yunjin had her coat draped over her shoulders like a makeshift cape, exuding effortless elegance as always, while Anton clutched a bag of takeout fries he’d snagged from a food truck on the way out.

“Where are we going again?” you asked, voice slightly muffled by the scarf you were wrapping around your neck.

“Lustra,” Yunjin beamed, checking her phone with a practiced flick of her wrist. “Chic but not pretentious—and they make a mean Moscow mule that’ll change your life.”

Anton let out a low whistle, his breath slipping through the sharp hisses of cold air. “It better for the prices they charge. You sure they’ll let me in? I’m just a humble journalist. Not exactly a hot commodity like you two.”

“Oh please, Anton,” Yunjin scoffed, stepping gracefully into the cab that had finally pulled up. “You’re literally gorgeous, they’ll let you in.”

Lustra was everything Yunjin promised: dim lighting, plush velvet seating, and a DJ spinning music at just the right volume to feel alive without completely drowning conversation.

The three of you nestled into a corner booth, Moscow mules in hand, and dissolved into the kind of freewheeling, tipsy conversation that made you forget the stress the day had given you.

Yunjin, as usual, was glowing—slightly moving to the music’s beat. “Did I mention Scarlett and I hit six months last weekend?” she said, her tone humble yet smug.

“Congrats!” you said sincerely, raising your glass as the man beside you gave the beaming girl a congratulatory hug.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” Anton groaned sarcastically. “Meanwhile, I went on a date with a girl who ditched me the second I started talking about my favorite filmmakers. Can you believe that? How do you date someone who doesn’t know who Coppola is?”

You paused, a bit confused, “wait, Francis or Sofia?”

“Sofia.” Anton simply states and Yunjin snorts into her drink, “Okay, very tasteful but you really need to leave the fanboying for like, fifth dates, Anton.”

“What about you, (Y/N)?” Anton asked, eyeing you amusingly, nudging your shoulder. “Any love life updates?”

You swirled the remnants of your drink. “Not much to report. Between deadlines and Sunghoon riding my ass, I barely have time for one-night stands,” you paused, downing your drink, “let alone a relationship.”

Anton chuckled. “Oh, here we go again. Another Sunghoon rant incoming.”

“No, seriously!” you insisted, waving your glass.

“That man is the bane of my existence. He’s so uptight, and his looks—fine, I’ll admit he’s hot—do not make up for his sour mood. And you know what he needs? A good one-night stand. Someone to take the edge off so he’ll stop ruining my life.”

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, her lipstick-stained glass hovering mid-air. “And who, pray tell, is this mysterious someone?” She shot a brief conspiring glance towards Anton who smirked.

“Yeah…do we know her?”

“Oh, shut up,” you shot back with a roll of your eyes, laughing. “It’s not me. I wouldn’t touch that man with a ten-foot pole.”

“Hmm,” Anton said, smirking. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

You were just about to retort when your phone buzzed on the table. The name on the screen making your stomach drop.

“Oh, no,” you groaned.

“What?” Yunjin asked, leaning in.

“It’s Sunghoon,” you said, swiping to answer. “I’ll be right back.” You sifted through the crowd, briefly apologizing for the noise as you stepped out.

Outside, the winter breeze bit at your skin as you stepped away from the club’s noise. Sunghoon’s voice finally came through the line, crisp and formal. “(Y/N), I need you to come into the office. Fifteen minutes.”

Your eyes widened as you slowly processed his words, holding back an incredulous laugh—at this hour?

“Are you serious?” you asked, irritation creeping into your tone.

“Very,” Sunghoon replied. “Unless, of course, you’re too busy… gallivanting at clubs.”

Oh you could taste his sarcasm on your tongue, and you would’ve let it slide if it wasn’t filled with such derision.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Gallivanting? People with hobbies call it living, Sunghoon. You should try it sometime.”

His radio silence on the other end—or maybe the alcohol—suddenly gave you the courage to keep going.

“Screw it, you know what your problem is?” you said, words spilling out faster than your brain could process them.

“You’ve got a lot of pent-up anger, and you know what the cure is? Getting laid. Seriously, you’d be doing everyone a favor. Maybe then you wouldn’t be such a miserable ass all the time.”

“Excuse me?” he said, his voice colder than the air around you.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re gorgeous, fine. But your personality? Yikes. That’s probably why women run the other way. Just…” you groaned, “let your inhibitions go for one day, Sunghoon.”

“Maybe then I wouldn’t be standing in the fucking cold because of you!”

With that, you hung up, your heart pounding.

You brushed the setting panic away as you stepped back inside.

You didn’t remember much after that. Brief flashes of hitting the dance floor, and sipping a couple more drinks flickered in your memory, until Anton took you home.

The next morning, you stumbled out of the elevator nursing a hangover that could bring a lesser mortal to their knees.

Sporting oversized sunglasses and clutching a venti black coffee, you mustered up weak smiles to your coworkers in greeting, before you slumped into your chair.

“I must say, those glasses go with your blazer quite well.” Anton greeted you with a knowing grin.

He handed you a Tylenol, and you pouted at him with a grateful smile.

“Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you muttered, sipping your coffee.

“Remind me to never drink like we’re in college again.” You groaned and your best friend chuckled, “but it was fun, our first night off since like, ever.”

“At least I could sleep in after that.” You whined, recalling your haphazard morning routine when you missed your alarm.

Anton leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Ooh, looks like someone else had a rough night, too.”

You followed his gaze to Sunghoon, who was pacing the office, angrily critiquing an intern's layout with the precision of a surgeon.

You watched the intern subtly dab a tissue at her eyes when he walked away, immediately restarting her layout.

“Uh-oh,” Anton whispered. “What’s his deal?”

Wait…

Your jaw dropped in horror, as the memories of your call flooded back, ducking under your cubicle.

Anton noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?”

You turned to him, eyes wide. “I think I know why he’s in such a bad mood…”

In a hushed, frantic whisper, you told him everything, recounting your drunken tirade from the night before.

Anton stared at you, his expression a mix of shock and glee—grin growing by every word and detail you dropped.

He placed his croissant down slowly, like he needed his hands free to fully process the chaos.

“You what?” he whispered, leaning in so close it felt like he was about to crawl into your lap.

“I told him to get laid!” you hissed, slumping further into your chair. “I basically said his entire personality is why women run screaming! And I said it while I was drunk in the middle of the street!”

Anton’s face twisted as he tried—and failed—to suppress his laughter. “Oh my God, (Y/N). You didn’t just burn the bridge. You nuked it.”

“Not helping, Ant!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Anton paused, his grin so wide it looked painful.

“Let- let me get this straight. You—our beloved, mild-mannered coworker—called Park Sunghoon, the Ice King of Vogue, an uptight, sexually frustrated killjoy who needs to let loose. Do I have that right?”

“Essentially,” you muttered through your palms.

Anton sat back, folding his arms with a hum as if to fully savor the moment. “You realize you’re my hero now, right?”

“This isn’t funny!” you hissed, peeking over your sunglasses to make sure Sunghoon wasn’t within earshot. “He’s already in a bad mood. What if he fires me?”

Anton waved a dismissive hand. “Please. Sunghoon doesn’t fire people. He just makes their lives a living hell until they quit.”

“Great,” you deadpanned. “Super comforting.”

“Honestly, though,” Anton said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “he probably needed to hear it. You’re not wrong. He is an uptight control freak, and let’s be real, he could use a night of… recreational activities.” He let out a chuckle, stopping himself when he noticed your glare.

“You’re supposed to help me, not encourage my demise.”

Anton smirked. “Fine. Damage control time. First, don’t mention it unless he does. Second, be professional, act like nothing happened. And third…” He trailed off, eyes lighting up mischievously.

“What?” you asked warily.

He grinned, snapping his fingers and pointing out, “if he does bring it up, double down. Tell him you’re just looking out for his uh well-being.” He covered his mouth to avoid another giggle from slipping through.

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “I’m doomed.”

At that moment, Sunghoon walked by your desk, his perfectly tailored suit somehow making him look even more intimidating.

He glanced in your direction—just a flicker of his sharp dismissing glare—before continuing down the hall.

Anton leaned closer. “That look was…scary.”

“His looks are always scary,” you muttered, though your stomach churned with nerves.

“No, this was different,” Anton stated. “This was like…‘I’m planning your funeral and choosing tasteful florals for the casket’ scary.”

Before you could respond, Yunjin appeared, holding a stack of mood boards and looking utterly unbothered. “Why do you two look like someone just died?”

“Oh, no one’s dead,” Anton said cheerfully. “But (Y/N)’s career might be.”

“Thanks, Anton,” you said dryly.

Yunjin raised an eyebrow. “What happened now?”

Anton wasted no time filling her in, embellishing just enough to make your drunken tirade sound like a full-on Shakespearean monologue.

Yunjin listened, her expression shifting from confusion to horror to amused admiration.

“Well,” Yunjin said finally, “at least you were honest.”

“That’s not helping!” you snapped.

She giggled with a hopeless shrug. “Look, if he hasn’t confronted you about it yet, maybe he’s letting it slide. Or maybe he secretly agrees with you.”

Anton snorted. “Yeah, because Sunghoon is definitely the kind of guy to take constructive criticism well.”

Yunjin looked thoughtful. “Or,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye, “he’s planning to make you pay for it in the most passive-aggressive way possible.”

You groaned again, face sinking further into your hands. “I need a time machine.”

“Or a therapist,” Anton said.

“Or both,” Yunjin added.

The three of you fell silent as Sunghoon reappeared, this time striding toward his office with a stack of proofs in hand.

He didn’t look at you, but the tension in his jaw was impossible to miss.

“Yep,” Anton concluded. “He’s plotting your doom.”

You shot him a withering glare. “I hate you so much.”

“Don’t worry, (Y/N)” Anton said with a grin. “If he does fire you, I’ll buy you a consolation martini.”

“Because that’ll fix everything,” you muttered sarcastically as you mentally prepared for whatever wrath Sunghoon was surely about to unleash.

The office printer room was its own little world—tucked into the far corner of the writers floor, dimly lit, and constantly humming with the soft whir of machines churning out drafts, proofs, and pitches.

It was the perfect place to avoid people, particularly a certain brooding features editor who had taken up far too much real estate in your thoughts since last night.

You spent the morning successfully avoiding him, hiding back in your workspace and typing whatever nonsense to look busy, pretending to speak to coworkers when he passed by and making your coffee in the fashion department.

But, of course, you couldn’t evade him forever.

Every passing moment was spent trying to find the right words to say something when your worlds inevitably collided.

You tapped your foot impatiently as the printer sputtered and beeped, taking its sweet time with the twenty-page document you needed for your pitch meeting tomorrow.

You glanced at the door nervously, praying that fate wouldn’t bite you in the ass.

What would you even say? You’re sorry you told the truth? You’re sorry you got “unreasonably” upset that he called you off work?

“Six more pages,” you muttered under your breath, watching the slow machine spit out the pages like it was mocking you. “Just six more…”

The door creaked open, and for a brief, foolish moment, you thought about pretending you hadn’t heard it. But then you caught a whiff of cologne, that telltale wood scent with notes of vanilla and bergamot.

Only he would wear Tom Ford.

“(Y/N).” His voice was low, clipped, and far too close for comfort.

You forced yourself to look up. Sunghoon stood by the door, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a folder.

Even without the blazer, he looked effortlessly immaculate, his white shirt sculpted to perfection, his expression a familiar mask of indifference—except for the way his jaw ticked slightly when your eyes met.

“Mr. Park,” you greeted, your voice straining for neutrality.

You turned back to the printer, focusing on the flashing green light like your life depended on it.

Sunghoon took a few steps closer, the sound of his leather shoes on the tile making your pulse quicken.

“Avoiding me?” he asked casually, but there was an edge to his tone that made your stomach drop.

“No,” you quickly lied.

The printer suddenly shut off, and you cursed under your breath—grabbing whatever stack of papers remained.

You didn’t even bother aligning them, too focused on your escape. “Just busy. You know how it is.”

You turned to leave, but Sunghoon sidestepped, blocking your path. “Busy club hopping?” he asked, arching a brow.

Your face burned.

Of course he remembered.

“I had a night off, it was a personal evening” you said, clutching the papers to your chest like they could shield you from his piercing stare.

"Hmm. Personal," the tall male repeated, the word dripping with irony. "Interesting. Because I recall a very personal call from you last night.”

You cringed, wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

“Something about my... personality? Stressed. Uptight. And my supposed need for, what was it again? Oh, right-getting laid." Sunghoon’s voice was calm, but the restrained anger in his tone was palpable.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your brain scrambling for something, anything, to say. “I—well, I was…drunk.”

“Clearly.” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Drunk enough to think that telling your boss at midnight to psychoanalyze his personal life was a good idea.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done.

“Drunk enough to suggest that I—how did you put it?—‘let my inhibitions go.’”

The way he said it made your face flush even hotter, and your thoughts briefly betrayed you, wondering what it would look like if he ever did.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you blurted out. “It was unprofessional, and it- it won’t happen again.”

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“You’re right,” he said after a moment.

“It was unprofessional. And reckless. And frankly…” He leaned in, just enough to make you feel the heat of his presence. “…you’re lucky I don’t have HR on speed dial.”

Your heart was pounding now, and you couldn’t tell if it was from fear, embarrassment, or the undeniable air crackling between you.

“I said I’m sorry,” you said, your voice coming out softer, more desperate than you intended. “I shouldn’t have said—any of that.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond immediately. He simply stepped closer, gaze locked on yours, unreadable and unrelenting.

“Sorry doesn’t fix it, sweetheart.” he said, his voice low and almost dangerous.

“You don’t just…” he trailed off, his eyes dragging over you slowly. “Get to say whatever you want and walk away.”

You stepped back again, only to feel the cool, unyielding surface of the printer against your back.

He was close now—too close. The scent of his cologne made your head spin, and you couldn’t tell if it was the lingering hangover or his intense presence.

“I wasn’t trying to—” you stammered, your throat dry. “I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?” Sunghoon interrupted feigning confusion, his hands braced on the machine on either side of you, trapping you in.

“Didn’t mean to call me uptight? Didn’t mean to tell me I needed to get laid?” His tone was sharp, but his gaze softened ever so slightly, his lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smirk.

Your heart was hammering against your ribcage, and you hated how your breath hitched as his face inched closer.

The atmosphere between you was suffocating, the air charged and stifling all at once.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe.

“I—I was drunk,” you reasoned again, your voice barely audible.

“And yet,” Sunghoon murmured, leaning down slightly, his dark eyes boring into yours, “you said it. You think I don’t know what you meant?”

You could feel the faintest brush of his breath on your skin as he bridged the thinning gap. Your knees felt weak, and your grip on the papers loosened slightly.

You turned your head, trying to look anywhere but at him, but he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

“Look at me,” Sunghoon said, his voice quieter now, almost a command, but it wasn’t harsh—it was soft, almost…intimate.

You obeyed, your eyes flickering to his, and that was your mistake.

His gaze flicked down briefly to your lips, and your breath caught as his face drew closer, his lips just inches from yours.

The tension was unbearable at his point. Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Every logical part of your brain screamed at you to stop, to say something, to step away. But you couldn’t.

And then, before you could think it through—before you could stop yourself—you surged forward, crashing your lips against his.

The stack of papers in your hand fell to the floor in a forgotten mess as your hands reached up instinctively, clutching the fabric of his well pressed shirt.

He groaned against your lips, his voice rough and full of something you couldn't quite name.

For a second—a fraction of a second—you thought Sunghoon might pull away, but then his hands were on your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the kiss deepened.

It was everything you didn’t know you needed—hot, consuming, and utterly intoxicating. The taste of espresso and something uniquely him lingered on your tongue as his fingers tightened around your waist, anchoring you to the moment.

You only briefly pulled back, gasping for air, before Sunghoon’s lips chased yours again, kissing you with a force that almost made your knees buckle.

It was frantic, needy and messy in a way that came from too much tension snapping at once.

Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as your hands rushed for his buttons, each one revealing a much more intimate vision of him only the naive interns could dream of.

Your hands landed on his chest as he lips grazed along your jaw, planting kisses on your neck that made you fall back in breathy sighs.

They traveled up his neck and into his soft dark strands, moaning softly as he skillfully unbuttoned your blouse, palming your breasts over your lace bra hungrily.

Without any warning you were quickly spun around, and bent over the printer, a soft gasp escaping your tingling lips at the cool contrast of the machine on your hot skin.

“Is this what you meant?” He asked, hating the way your heart skipped at the sound of his belt unbuckling behind you.

His hand crept up your skirt, sending shivers up your spine as he hooked his fingers around the band of your panties, tugging them down without care.

You felt your cheeks flush at the cool air hitting your glistening cunt, practically aching for him.

“Hmm?” He mused, awaiting an answer before landing a sharp, yet pleasurable smack on your ass.

The sound of your gasp echoed off the walls, gripping the machine as you anchored yourself, swallowing a choked moan.

You felt the heat of him pressing against your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your sensitive clit. You let out a breathy moan, trying to rock yourself backwards to feel him inside you.

Sunghoon’s hand pressed firmly on your back, holding you in place with tut. You felt another smack on your reddening skin, holding back a whimper.

“I need you to answer me, sweetheart,” he instructed, “is this what you wanted?”

You nodded, begging he would take the hint.

Of course he didn't, continuing to tease the both of you as his hand caressed your backside, his lips planting kisses across your exposed skin.

When you didn't say anything else Sunghoon spanked you once again, a louder whimper escaping your mouth this time.

"I can’t hear you," he instructed, a smirk tugging his lips, "is this what you wanted?"

"Yes! Fuck." You rushed, with desperate cries.

Without a moment of hesitation his cock slid inside of you, both of you lowly moaning in pleasure.

You had never felt so good in your life.

His hand found its place on your waist, gripping tight as he started a rhythm, bottom lip slipping between your teeth as you willed yourself not to moan.

The last thing you needed was for the whole office leaning their ear against the printing room door in scandalous curiosity.

“Don’t make a sound, ‘hear me?” He instructed, with every slow thrust, inching deeper as you whimpered in response, nodding hastily.

"That's it, sweetheart," he praised, his cock meticulously stretching you out with every passing second, "So fucking tight.."

You shudder under his tight grasp, swallowing a few moans as he slowly bottoms out into you with every drag, arching into him as he bites his lip at the pornographic sight.

“You take me so well, don’t you?” He groaned, practically sensing the cocky smirk on his lips as he reveled in your sweet whimpers.

He was such a prick.

“You’re— you’re a— fuck.” you cry, biting your lip to stifle your moans.

Sunghoon leaned over, his groans tickling the shell of your ear like he wanted you to break, “I’m a what, baby?”

Your brain was too foggy to form a coherent sentence, irritation a mere afterthought as he hit every spot, his cock filling you perfectly. You couldn't even remember the last time someone fucked you so full.

So much for declaring that you wouldn’t even touch Sunghoon with a ten foot pole.

You let your guard down for a few seconds before his hips experimentally snapped into you, lewd moans tumbling past your lips before his hand instantly clamped your mouth.

“You never listen, do you (Y/N)?” Sunghoon grunts, grabbing your hips and slamming himself into you, his cock reaching even more profound places as you cry out, desperate moans muffled by his palm.

His brows furrow, low groans escaping his lips, “so fucking stubborn.”

Your hands search for any surface to grip onto, surging forward from the sheer force of his hips snapping into you, gasps drowned into his palm.

“Walking around challenging my authority?”

You couldn’t respond, pretty eyes rolling to the back of your head, eyes fluttering shut as he pounded into you, making sure to hit the most pleasurable spots inside you.

“Mr Park? Are you in here?” a voice called through the door, loud enough to cut through the haze of everything.

You froze, rising up in alarm before he pushed you down. Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, indifferent to the reality of the situation that teetered on the lines of danger.

“Yes,” he called back, his voice calm and steady, yet still rutting into you.

His grip finally left from your side, instead slipping a hand between your thighs and circling over your sensitive clit, jolting as your muffled cries of pure ecstasy were heard by him and no one else.

The voice on the other side hesitated, then added, “I have the updated layouts you asked for.”

Your nails dug into the skin of your palms, fighting the urge to scream as he hitled himself deeply, making a mess of you as he fucked into you over, and over again.

You were damn near the cusp of falling apart from everything, yet the fact that he had the audacity to be so calm and collected while stretching you out, sent you over the edge.

“Leave them on my desk,” Sunghoon replied coolly, not even glancing toward the door.

The footsteps retreated, and you closed your eyes in sheer relief. You were a teary mess now, crying at the dizzying sensation of fingers on you, velvety walls tightly hugging him as his thrusts picked up.

“You crying for me, princess?” He moans, and the soft delivery of his words makes your cunt flutter around him.

He finally moves his hand away from your mouth, as if challenging you to make a sound.

“Sunghoon, fuck.” You cry, in a broken whisper, clenching around him uncontrollably as he tries to hold you still.

“I know baby, I know.” He cooed, savoring the way your legs shaked, pupils blown wide with lust as his pistoned in and out of you so easily.

With his fingers, he continued his assault, working your clit in tight circles as your hips bucked wildly. He groaned, feeling your walls squeezing him, threatening to bring him over the edge.

But he wouldn't cum before you.

Sunghoon’s lips ghosted over your ear, his soft guttural moans shooting straight to your core, “such a pretty mess for me, aren’t you?” his lips curled into a grin as you finally tipped over the edge.

A soft, yet long moan slipped was quickly muffled by his hand as he fucked you through it, your toes curling and thighs quivering.

White hot pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in sheer bliss. But just when it was starting to subside, he was slamming his cock into you.

The sound of his skin meeting yours was like music, and his fingers returned to your clit, sending you spiraling back into ecstasy.

Your weak cries of pleasure only seemed to encourage him more.

Sunghoon moaned, a beautiful sound leaving him as his cock twitched. With a few hard erratic thrusts, he came, filling you up completely, not wasting a single drop.

He groaned softly, riding out your highs before you whimpered at the feeling of him slipping out of you, both panting.

The silence between the two of you was mutual as you caught your breaths. Sunghoon leaned down, sliding your panties back up and pressing a soft kiss on your asscheek.

It was infuriating to admit that, just as good as he was with everything else, he was really good at fucking.

[hoonharem]

nerd!sunghoon headcannons

MDNI!!

nerds cant fuck, or can they?

huge thanks to my sister for helping me out w this one, luv u bby @hoonieswifeyy 👅💕

nerd!sunghoon who can't help but steal glances at you during lectures.

nerd!sunghoon whos a bit of a perv, glancing down to see if he can catch a glimpse of what's under your skirt.

nerd!sunghoon who helps you with your work in class.

nerd!sunghoon who trails behind you everywhere you go on campus, like a lost puppy..

nerd!sunghoon who musters up the courage to talk to you, asking you about your hobbies, and whatnot..

nerd!sunghoon who finds out you love penguins!!

nerd!sunghoon who finally got your number.

nerd!sunghoon who got invited to watch one of your -- games, maybe you've grown fond of him..

nerd!sunghoon who's efforts to be with you finally paid off.

nerd!sunghoon whos eating you out in one of the gym showers after everyone's gone, as a reward for winning your game.

"mmf- am I doing this r-right?" He asks, before looking up at you, the hot water cascading down your bodies. he flicked his tongue, muscular arms holding you up against the wall. "y-yeah..so good, 'hoonie..juuust- like that.." you whined, head thrown back due to the pleasure he was causing.

He moved his head up so he could get a better angle on you, his tongue licking a trail up and down, occasionally flicking over your clit, teasing you with just enough pressure to drive you crazy, but not enough to give you any semblance of release. "You taste amazing, princess.." he whimpers out, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He was driving you wild with need, his hands holding you up firm as he started to lose control, his mind now consumed with only you, and your pussy.

He thrusted his fingers into your cunt, desperately sucking at you, trying to push you over the edge. he pulled his fingers out and focused on your clit, teasing it as his tongue slipped in between your folds. He was now licking you more eagerly, lapping at your cunt, as he looked at you with lustful eyes. He wanted to go slow, but he also wanted to make you feel good. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he sure was enjoying himself while doing it. "Like this? Does this feel good?" he whispers, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes. "'hoonie..t-too good, a-ahn..!~" you cry out, fingers gripping his hair tight as you tried pushing him away, thighs closing in around his head. but he didn't let up, prying your thighs open, pushing his head further between them, as he spread your wetness, trying to bury himself impossibly deeper into your aching core, lips sucking at your core, tongue flicking over your clit, as he teasingly pushed him thumb into you dripping hole. he felt it, you were so close, all he had to was push you over the edge.

his hand trailed up, before prodding at your entrance with his middle and ring finger. he looked up, pulling away for a moment, before spitting on his fingers, pushing it into your aching cunt. He groaned at the feeling of you clenching around his fingers as he pushed into you, and he couldn't resist the urge to curl them up, trying to reach just the right spot in you as his mouth continued to work on your clit. He pulled back, letting a fat, wet glob of spit fall from his lips, as he watched in dribble down your folds, mouth attaching to your clit, tongue lapping up your juices hungrily. He felt the beginnings of your orgasm beginning to build, and he could tell that it was going to be a powerful one, and he wanted to push you over the edge, just with his touch.

"princess, i could eat you all day, mmf..- so wet, and so fucking delicious.." he groaned, lips attaching to your clit as he sucked, hard. just then, his fingers slid into you hole again, moving and curling up to reach your sweet spot. "are you close yet, beautiful? can you c-cum on my tongue f'me? like a good girl.?" He questioned, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to bring you over the edge. suddenly, sunghoon felt you squirt, all over his face. the gush of liquid took him by surprise, but he pulled away, using his fingers to rub over your folds, encouraging more of your release. you tried catching your breath, before feeling his lips wrap around you swollen nub. "n-no, too- mmhnn~ sensitive!-" you moan out, before he pulled away, gently placing your feet on the ground again, the water streaming down both your bodies, before his lips connected to yours in a needy, desperate kiss. his tongue intertwined with yours, before he moved away, holding you close by the waist. "you did so good, baby.. can i give you some more.?" he asks, not waiting for a response, before pinning you to one of the glass doors, perky tits pressing against the cold glass. anyone passing by could see, but sunghoon could care less.

"sorry for making you wait too long, baby..I'll make it up to you." he speaks, one hand grabbing your hip, the other pulling your head back, his mouth attacking your neck. he felt you move your backside against him , mouth suckling at your shoulder, before his other hand groped your breast. he thumbed at your sensitive nipple, pinching it between your fingers, before pressing you against the door once more. he held your hips, looking down before aligning his hard, lengthy cock with your entrance, gently pushing the tip in, before he slipped out, coating himself in your wetness, the head nudging at your sensitive bud. he pushed in once more, a sigh escaping his lips as he entered you for the first time, and- oh. you were so warm, and tight, and your walls clenching down on him like there was no tomorrow. he hadn't had good pussy in ages, he wasn't planning to hold back at all. "you're so tight..'nd wet, baby..-is it all f'me? for hoonie?" he says, before burying himself to the hilt, a desperate whine slipping from his lips. he thrusted gently, cockhead sliding against your cervix. "h-hoonie..'ts so big.." you say, in a breathless tone, feeling your knees buck, clit pulsing for attention. he kept thrusting, angling his hips at a different angle, trying to aim himself to hit the spot that made you go crazy.

a string of moans and cries escaped your kiss-bitten lips, as you tried your best not to fall, feeling your legs shake uncontrollably, his hips slamming against yours with renowned fervor. he grabbed one of your legs, keeping it slung over his arm, before thrusting harder than before, his tip hitting the spongy spot inside of your cunt with every thrust. "all mine.. you're all mine now, princess.." he whispered into your ear, leaning forward to suck at your earlobez his thrusts never stopping. "y-yours, hoonie! 'm jus' for you- mmnhh~" you moaned, feeling your body push against the glass with each thrust, eyes rolling into the back of your head, orgasm inching closer and closer. at that moment, his thrusts got rougher, piercing gaze locked onto where you both were connected, seeing the white ring of cum around the base of his cock.

he kneaded your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he spread them apart, spitting onto your cunt once more. he leaned down, tongue licking at your ear before he spoke. "can you squirt f'me again, darling? wan' t'see you make a mess of my cock.." he whispers, free hand moving down to your dripping wetness, his middle finger rubbing tight circles harshly on your clit. "'m close..o-oh fuck!-~" you moaned, before he felt your walls clench down on him tightly, before he had to pull out, seeing you coat his lower abdomen, and his hardness with the warm liquid spurting out of your wetness. he rubbed your clit sideways, in a fast motion. he muttered praises in your ear, not even waiting for you to come down from your high, sliding his cockhead between your folds, pushing into your hole once more. "sorry, princess..I know your sensitive, can you wait a bit for me.?- mmfh..~ 'jus a littlee bit more.." he says, thrusts turning sloppier, and sloppier, before he pushed himself balls deep in your cunt, feeling your cunt contract around his cock repeatedly, as he reached his peak. he pumped his fat cock into you, riding out his high, all whilst pushing his seed deeper into your dripping hole. he slowly pulled his softening cock out of your used hole, before pushing his thumb into your dripping hole. "wait..'need to get this back in here.."

nerd!sunghoon who officially made you his girlfriend, giving you a big penguin plushie! (he'll ruin you when it's looking, btw.)

[hoonharem]

biceps and bites

wc: 2k | smut, bicep kink, rough sex, biting, unprotected sex, p in v, mentions of alcohol

-

The summer night was sticky and warm, the kind of heat that clung to your skin and made everything feel a little hazy. You and Sunghoon had spent the evening at a friend’s backyard barbecue, a casual gathering with music, laughter, and too many drinks. Now, the party was winding down, and you’d both slipped away from the crowd, walking down the quiet street toward his place, the air buzzing with unspoken tension.

Sunghoon looked effortlessly hot tonight, and you hadn’t been able to take your eyes off him. He was wearing a white sleeveless shirt, the fabric loose but clinging to his frame in all the right places, showing off his toned arms. His biceps looked like a work of art—strong, defined, flexing every time he moved, whether he was tossing a frisbee at the party or just running a hand through his dark hair. A thick silver chain necklace rested against his collarbone, catching the streetlights as you walked, and his skin was still flushed from the heat of the night, a faint sheen of sweat making him look even more irresistible.

You’d been dating for a few months, and the chemistry between you was undeniable—playful flirting that always turned into something more when you were alone. Tonight, though, there was an edge to it, a hunger that had been building all evening as you watched him laugh with friends, his arm flexing when he’d pulled you into a quick hug, the muscle hard under your hands. You’d always had a thing for his biceps, and he knew it—teasing you with little flexes, smirking when he caught you staring.

“You’re quiet,” he said, glancing at you as you walked, his voice low and teasing. “What’s on your mind?”

You smirked, your eyes flicking to his arm as he swung it casually by his side. “Just thinking about how good you look tonight,” you admitted, not bothering to hide the way you were staring. “That shirt… it’s doing things to me.”

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, I know,” he said, stopping to face you, his hands on his hips, deliberately flexing his biceps as he did. The muscle bulged under his skin, and you bit your lip, unable to look away. “You’ve been staring at my arms all night, baby. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Can you blame me?” you shot back, stepping closer, your fingers brushing the curve of his bicep, feeling the warmth of his skin. “They’re fucking perfect.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk tugging at his lips as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him. “You’ve got a thing for them, huh?” he murmured, his voice dropping as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “Wanna do more than just look?”

Your breath hitched, heat pooling low in your stomach at the suggestion. “What do you have in mind?” you asked, your voice already a little breathless.

He didn’t answer with words—instead, he tugged you down the street, his grip firm on your hand as he led you to his apartment, just a block away. The second the door closed behind you, he had you against it, his body pressing into yours, his lips crashing down in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His chain necklace was cold against your skin as he pressed closer, and you could feel the hard lines of his body, the way his biceps flexed as he held you in place.

“Fuck, I’ve been dying to get you alone,” he growled against your mouth, his hands already roaming, sliding under your tank top to grip your waist. His fingers were rough, digging into your skin, and the scrape of them made you whimper. “You, staring at me like that all night—you have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands off you.”

“Then don’t,” you shot back, your hands fisting in his shirt, tugging at the damp fabric. “I want you, Sunghoon. Right now.”

He groaned, the sound vibrating through you as he kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. He tasted like the beer he’d been drinking, a little bitter and a lot intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough. His hands moved with purpose—yanking your top over your head, tossing it aside, then working on your shorts, leaving you in just your underwear in record time.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice rough as he stepped back to take you in, his eyes raking over your body. “So fucking hot.” He pulled his own shirt off, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest, his abs flexing with every breath, and those biceps—god, those biceps—glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. You reached out, fingers tracing the curve of his arm, squeezing the muscle, and he watched you, eyes hooded, as you practically drooled over him.

“Like that, huh?” he teased, flexing deliberately, the muscle bulging under your touch, and you nodded, too turned on to be embarrassed. “Fuck, you’re obsessed.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, but he was right, and he knew it. You stepped closer, pressing your lips to his bicep, kissing the taut skin, then dragging your tongue along the curve. He groaned, his head tipping back as you sucked a mark into his arm, your teeth grazing the muscle.

“Goddamn,” he hissed, his free hand tangling in your hair as you moved to his other arm, repeating the motion. “You’re gonna leave marks, baby.”

“Good,” you murmured against his skin, your voice muffled. “Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He growled, the sound low and dangerous, and then he was on you again, pushing you back until your legs hit the couch. You fell onto it with a soft thud, and he followed, kneeling between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you to the edge. “Spread your legs,” he ordered, and you did, trembling as his fingers hooked into your underwear, yanking them down with a roughness that made you gasp.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he said, his voice a mix of awe and hunger as he ran his fingers through your folds, teasing you just enough to make you squirm. “All this just from my arms?”

“Sunghoon, please,” you whined, pushing your hips toward him, and he chuckled, the sound dark and promising.

“Patience, baby,” he said, but his own control was slipping—you could see it in the way his hands shook as he shoved his shorts down, freeing himself. He was hard, the tip already leaking, and you moaned at the sight, your mouth watering.

But he had other plans. He grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer, and then he lifted his arm, flexing his bicep right in front of you. “Go on,” he said, his voice rough. “You want it so bad—ride it.”

Your eyes widened, heat flooding your core at the suggestion. “You serious?” you asked, but you were already moving, straddling his arm, your slick center pressing against the hard muscle of his bicep.

“Fuck yeah, I’m serious,” he growled, his other hand gripping your hip to guide you. “Show me how much you want it.”

You didn’t need more encouragement. You started moving, grinding against his bicep, the firm muscle slick with your arousal as you rocked your hips. The friction was perfect, the pressure hitting just right, and you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. His arm flexed under you, the muscle tensing with every movement, and the sight of it—his bicep glistening with your wetness, the veins popping under his skin—pushed you closer to the edge.

“Shit, that’s hot,” he muttered, his voice strained as he watched you, his free hand sliding down to stroke himself. “You’re a fucking mess, baby—look at you, riding my arm like that.”

“Feels so good,” you gasped, your pace quickening, the heat building fast. “Sunghoon—oh my god, I’m close.”

“Come on, then,” he urged, his voice rough and desperate. “Come all over me—make a mess.”

His words sent you over the edge, your orgasm hitting hard, your body shaking as you ground against his bicep, your release coating his skin. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders, and he groaned, his own hand speeding up as he watched you fall apart.

But he wasn’t done. Before you could catch your breath, he pulled you off his arm, flipping you onto your stomach on the couch, your knees on the floor as he positioned himself behind you. “Not done with you yet,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him.

“Sunghoon—fuck,” you moaned, your voice muffled against the cushions as he thrust into you, hard and deep, filling you in one rough motion. He didn’t hold back, his hips snapping against yours with a force that made you see stars, the couch creaking under the intensity.

“God, you feel so good,” he grunted, his voice strained as he pounded into you, his hands digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises. “So tight—shit, you’re perfect.”

“Harder,” you begged, pushing back against him, and he obliged, his thrusts turning sloppy, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. His chain necklace swung with every movement, brushing against your back, and you could feel his sweat dripping onto your skin, the heat of him overwhelming.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice rough and breathless. “Taking me so well—fuck, you’re a mess.” His hand slipped between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing messy circles that made you whimper. “Gonna come again, huh? I can feel it.”

“Yes—please,” you gasped, your body trembling, the pressure building again. His bicep flexed as he held himself up, the muscle right in your line of sight, and you couldn’t help yourself—you reached out, biting down on it, hard enough to make him hiss.

“Fuck, you little freak,” he laughed, but it turned into a groan as you clenched around him, the pain pushing him closer to the edge. “Biting me while I fuck you? You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Make me,” you shot back, your voice raw, and he thrust harder, his fingers on your clit speeding up until you were shaking, your second orgasm crashing through you. You cried out, your body tightening around him, and he cursed, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release.

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he growled, his voice raw, and you could feel him throbbing inside you, his thrusts turning erratic. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside,” you panted, still trembling, and he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he gave one last hard thrust, spilling into you with a low, guttural moan. His bicep tensed under your hand as he came, his whole body shuddering against yours, and you held on, your nails digging into his skin, marking him as yours.

For a moment, you stayed like that—panting, sweaty, tangled together on the couch as the aftershocks rolled through you. He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity, and then he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his bicep still glistening with your release.

“Fuck, that was insane,” he muttered, his voice still rough as he kissed your forehead, then your lips, soft and sweet despite the mess you’d just made. “You’re okay?”

“More than okay,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his chest as you traced the marks on his arm, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “You?”

He laughed, the sound vibrating through you. “Never better,” he said, tilting your chin up to kiss you again. “But next time, you’re cleaning me up.”

“Deal,” you grinned, already looking forward to the next time you’d get to worship those biceps.

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