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ninisdollie · 2 days ago

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back off - park sunghoon (pt.2) 𓈒ིུ ❤︎

‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ (Pt.2)

“In which reader finds herself tangled in a complicated, secret relationship with her bodyguard.”

⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ content:+18MDNI

fem! reader x sunghoon, popstar x bodyguard, a little bit angsty and emotional, jake is a side character, ni-ki is a side character, a bit of comedy relief, romantic sex, rushed sex, unprotected sex, oral (f. rec), fluffy.

READ PART 1 HERE.

notes: finally finished pt2. i hope y’all like it <3 this is one of my fav works until now, although i hope this part 2 doesn’t feel rushed i wanted to close this story but not in a very dramatic way.

taglist at the end, likes and reblogs are appreciated, hate comments will be deleted and blocked !!

Weeks passed in a blur, turning into a couple of months. In the outside world, everything started to slowly go back to normal. You were still working on your stunt with Jake, still went out on dates, public events, photoshoots where you held his hand and smiled for the cameras like nothing had changed. You still had you solo schedules too, practising for your upcoming tour, dance practices, wardrobe fittings, all the things that should bring you joy, but you knew exactly why they didn’t.

You felt hollow. Every interview, every flash of the camera, every compliment about how beautiful and in love you and Jake looked, it all scraped against your skin like slow punishment. You smiled through it anyway, nodded, laughed on cue, let yourself be styled and polished and praised. Let the world believe the lie.

But at night, when you got home and found yourself in the loneliness of your penthouse, that was the worst part. Your apartment was a mess now, not visibly, but emotionally. The silence was heavier than ever. Your new bodyguard was perfectly kind, polite, and good at his job. But he wasn’t Sunghoon. He didn’t know the way you liked your coffee or when to step closer in a crowd or when you just needed to be left alone. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t see through you.

Some nights you didn’t even make it to your bed, you just curled into the couch with a blanket and your phone in hand, scrolling through old photos and videos, watching old interviews or red carpet clips where Sunghoon was just barely in the background, sunglasses on, earpiece in, jaw tight. Or some blurry photos you took of him just to annoy him, the affection and the tease in his eyes.

It wasn’t just that you lost him, it was that he lost too, the job he so much cared about, he was one of the most remarkable agents, and now, with this happening, you didn’t know if he would be ok.

You missed him so much it was physically hurting you, you didn’t have appetite, your eyes were tired and baggy all the time, you didn’t make it our of your house unless it was extremely necessary. Even Jake noticed something was wrong, but he didn’t want to push you.

One of those nights, you sat wrapped in your hoodie, barely able to keep your eyes open, your cheeks still wet from crying again. An unfinished noodle bowl sat on the coffee table, your TV playing some old series you weren’t watching.

You were too drowned in your own depression you didn’t even hear the door open. It was too late for visitors, and you were already falling asleep, so you didn’t react properly, but you heard him. A quiet rustle, the sound of shoes coming off, then the scent hit you before anything else, cinnamon. Warm, sticky, fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon.

“Hey,” Jake’s voice broke the silence softly.

You blinked, blurry-eyed, as he stepped into the living room with a paper bag in one hand and two milkshakes in the other. He was wearing sweats and a hoodie, hair messy and still damp, he looked like the boy next door, not the vocalist of one of the biggest boybands. But his eyes were soft, like he already knew the state you were in.

“Thought you might needed some sugar” he said gently, placing the bag on the coffee table.

You didn’t say anything at first, just watched him quietly as he sat next to you, not too close, but not too far. His presence was familiar in a different way. He always felt like a warm light, even when everything around you was cold. He smiled softly, but you saw a bit of pity on his eyes.

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, voice dry.

He handed you a napkin, chuckling sweetly.

“You’re crying into your couch cushions and your mascara’s halfway down your cheek.”

You sniffled, wiping your face.

“Thanks.”

Jake didn’t push, just opened the bag, pulled out two still-warm cinnamon rolls, and handed you one. You took it even if you weren’t really hungry and chewed slowly. The sugar stuck to the roof of your mouth, soft and sweet. Jake just stared at the screen in front of you, like he was scared to say the wrong thing, but also scared of leaving you alone.

Finally after a few minutes, he took a small sip of his milkshake and asked:

“You’re not ok, are you?”

You blinked down at the floor for a long moment before you finally whispered:

“I miss him.”

Jake nodded once.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry,” your voice cracked. “I know you don’t deserve to get dragged into this mess, I never wanted this to happen like this.”

Jake leaned back into the couch, tilting his head toward you, his smile was bittersweet.

“You never really lied to me, you know. About the way you looked at him.”

You just looked at him, another tear falling down your cheek.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” he continued, “because I knew it wasn’t my place. But I’m not stupid. I knew this wasn’t real, I just wanted to make it easy for you, but I saw the way you looked at him and the way he looked at you.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to fall apart again.

“Do you love him?” Jake asked, softly.

You nodded, almost ashamed.

“It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” he said. “What’s stupid is the world making you hide it. And not to be mean, but seeing how powerful of an icon you are, I’m kind of disappointed, you should be fighting for him.”

You chuckled softly, and the silence stretched between you again, then Jake nudged your foot with his gently.

“Come on. You? Crying over some man while the world still thinks you’re on top of it? That’s not the you I know.”

You wiped your cheek with the sleeve of your hoodie, heart aching and throat too tight.

“I don’t even know where he is.”

Then a lazy, mischievous smirk appeared on Jake’s lips.

“Good thing you’ve got me then,” he said, cracking his fingers and pulling out his phone “Because I’ve got some... morally questionable connections.”

You frowned.

“Jake—”

“No, listen. I’m not letting you rot on this couch like some tragic indie heroine when you’re you. I know a guy who knows a guy who’s maybe been in a few tabloids for hacking into celebrity itineraries. If anyone knows where your hot ex-bodyguard is, it’s him.”

Your eyes widened, lips parting in disbelief.

“You’re serious.”

Jake didn’t even move.

“Dead. Just gimme a couple of days while I blackmail a couple of people.”

You laughed, breathless and tearful, but still a laugh.

“Why are you doing this?”

He looked at you then, his expression soft.

“Because I know what it’s like to love someone and have to keep it secret. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Especially not you.”

The words hit you like a punch straight to the chest, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, holding him tight. He hugged you back just as fiercely, but so softly, scared of hurting you.

And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel so alone.

Ever since he was as a kid, Sunghoon had always been good at silence. He was the type to keep things to himself, he bruises, the pressure, the fears. He learned early on that staying quiet kept you safe. So he built walls, never let anything in too deep.

But no one ever told him what to do when someone slipped past them anyway.

He didn’t talk about you anymore. He kept you buried, folded behind duty and discipline, tucked deep into the corners of his mind where no one could find you. He did his job, he kept the kid safe, he answered emails, drank his coffee black, made his bed with tight corners every morning like clockwork.

But you were fucking everywhere. He didn’t let himself look at the magazines or watch the late-night interviews. But he saw you in the smallest things, like the way your breath used to skim across his collarbone. The soft hum of the AC at night that reminded him of your half-asleep voice calling his name. The warmth of the sunlight through the car window that made him think of your smile.

He didn’t show how much it affected him, just blinked once, slow, took a deep breath, and kept walking.

Ni-ki — the rich teenager he was in charge of now whose parents were always too busy to even be at home — was yelling about something from the penthouse kitchen. Sunghoon didn’t really register it. He was standing by the window, arms folded behind his back, eyes fixed on the skyline like it had answers he wasn’t brave enough to ask for. He liked Tokyo, it was a big city, futuristic, full of distractions and the most important, it was very far, far away. From you and all the disaster that he causes by being so unprofessional and letting his feelings take him over.

Sometimes he dreamed of you, but just fragments. The curve of your neck, the glint in your eyes when you were teasing him, the way your fingers used to reach for his hand when you thought no one was looking. Your sweet scent, the way you whispered his name with wrecked voice when he kneeled in front of you to worship you, the little sounds you made when he was inside of you. He’d wake up with clenched fists, jaw tight, heart pounding like he’d run miles. But then he’d push it all away again.

He wondered if you missed him. If you hated him for leaving. If you’d found comfort in Jake’s arms, arms that had always been, easier, more acceptable. He wouldn’t blame your if you had. He’d never had the right to ask for more.

But he was hurting, silently. Because everything you had was still a secret. A private moment locked away in his chest like a forbidden thing he was too scared to touch.

Two days later, the sound of the penthouse doors swinging open echoed through the apartment like a wind shift in a still room.

You were in the kitchen, barefoot, clutching a half-finished smoothie you hadn’t touched since you poured it. The blender still sat unplugged beside you, and your reflection in the dark marble countertop looked like a stranger, tired, unwashed, hair tangled, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. You hadn’t showered, hadn’t slept properly, hadn’t cried again either. Just floated in a numb haze.

The door clicking shut snapped you out of your trance.

Jake stood there, breathless in the golden light spilling in from the windows, wearing his usual oversized hoodie and that persistent soft worry behind his eyes. But this time, there was something urgent in the way he held his phone and the way his gaze scanned you from head to toe, like he’d been waiting for the exact right second to say something.

“Jake?”

He stepped forward slowly, not speaking yet. He crossed the room in a few slow strides and gently reached out, placing a hand over yours, the one still wrapped around the glass of your smoothie.

The warmth of his touch nearly undid you.

“You’re not okay,” he said quietly. Not as a question, but as a truth.

You said nothing.

“I have something,” he said after a pause. “You should sit.”

You stared at him, heart thudding unevenly.

“What is it?”

Jake hesitated for the briefest second.

“I found him.”

The world stilled and you forgot how to breathe.

You didn’t react right away, your mind scrambling to make sense of the words while your body stayed frozen. Your throat tightened, heart fluttering in a sick rhythm. What Jake said registered, but not fully. It echoed and echoed, growing fainter each time, trying to reach a version of you that hadn’t been shattered.

Your body stayed frozen and you felt the rush of blood in your ears. The faint hum of the fridge, the way your bare toes curled against the cold tiles. And above it all, the ringing silence inside you, deafening.

“Sunghoon’s in Tokyo,” Jake continued softly. “He’s working. New job. He’s in charge of some rich kid, someone saw him at a gala.”

Your hand trembled. Jake gently took the smoothie from your fingers and placed it on the counter behind you before stepping closer.

“He’s ok.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, and it caught painfully in your throat. Your eyes burned, but you refused to cry. You had spent months becoming a ghost of yourself, too hollow for tears.

He’s okay.

Somehow, that hurt more than if Jake had said he was miserable.

Your knees nearly gave out. Jake caught your elbow before you could fall into yourself, grounding you with a steady hand and a softer voice.

“Hey,” he said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “breathe for me, yeah?”

“I—I thought he didn’t want to be found,” you whispered eventually, voice fragile “I thought he was done.”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He didn’t try to comfort you with words that would sound fake. Instead, he just stood with you like he always did. You turned your head slightly, eyes flickering toward him. Jake’s expression was unreadable for a second, a bit protective, something like love that didn’t belong to him.

He didn’t hesitate when he reached into his jacket and pulled out a thin envelope.

“I got us tickets,” he said. “Flight leaves in the morning. First class.”

Your heart stuttered. You stared at it, unmoving, while your insides twisted with something sick and bittersweet. A strange mix of want and fear, a longing so sharp it almost tasted metallic in your mouth.

What if he didn’t want to see you?

What if he had changed? What if he hadn’t?

What if he hated you?

You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly cold. The kitchen that had felt so still just minutes ago now felt too loud with your thoughts, too full of questions you weren’t ready to answer.

“Only if you want to go,” Jake added. “You don’t have to do anything. But you deserve to know, okay? To see him with your own eyes. And tell him that you love him.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked softly, brokenly.

Jake smiled, small and a little sad.

“I would never leave you alone in this,” he said simply, “and part of this mess is my agency’s fault too.”

And in the silence that followed, you finally let yourself fall, not into despair, but into the truth of it all. You would never get over Sunghoon, so you’d better fight for him.

The next day came faster than you imagined. Maybe because you didn’t sleep much, or maybe because part of you was still in that strange half-dream where Sunghoon held your face and looked at you like he never left.

Tokyo was hazy through the plane window, all gray skies and silver buildings, so unfamiliar but welcoming in some way. You’d been there before a couple of times before for your last world tour, but still, you were nervous as hell.

The good thing was that Jake hadn’t let you go the entire flight. A hand on your wrist when the turbulence hit, a pillow passed to you without a word, his shoulder, warm and steady, when your body finally gave in to sleep for a little while.

Now, in the passenger seat of the sleek black car that Jake rented speeding through Tokyo streets, your hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

“This is crazy,” you whispered, voice cracking as you stared at the neon blur outside. “I feel like I’m dreaming. I—I don’t even know what I’ll say if I see him.”

Jake looked at you gently from the driver’s seat.

“Then don’t say anything. Just... let him see you.”

You shook your head, pulling your hoodie tighter around you as a shield for your burning heart.

“What if I fall apart in front of him?”

Jake smiled, soft and sad.

“Then I’ll be right there.”

You didn’t reply, throat too tight. But you turned your gaze toward him, and for a second, you weren’t completely drowning in nerves.

Jake had arranged everything. He had connections, people who talked. Word had it that Sunghoon was now working for a high-profile family with a teenage son, some spoiled, ridiculously wealthy private school kid. His job was low-key, private, very behind-the-scenes. But like all secrets in elite circles, it didn’t stay hidden for long. He also contacted both of your agencies and convinced them that this was a little gateway couple trip, that it would be good for the stunt, and both of your managers agreed not knowing the real intentions. But it didn’t matter, it was worth trying.

“He picks the kid up from school every day at 2:45 sharp,” Jake said, glancing at his phone as the car slowed down. “It’s a school just outside the city. Uniforms, gates, the whole thing. If we wait near the side entrance, we’ll see him.”

You pressed your forehead to the cool window glass and closed your eyes.

2:45.

The time felt burned into your chest now. A countdown, suspended between everything you were terrified of and everything you still wanted. The idea of seeing him again made your stomach twist, your lungs feel too small. You weren’t entirely ready. But you’d come this far.

And maybe that meant something.

Jake reached for you and slipped his fingers into yours.

“We don’t have to do anything today,” he murmured. “We can just look. Just make sure he’s there.”

You nodded shakily.

In front of the school gates, the car stopped. It was a quiet, ivy-covered place tucked behind rows of manicured trees, a very obvious elite school made for sons and daughters of millionaires. A line of sleek black cars was already beginning to form along the curb, the drivers waiting in patient silence.

Jake leaned forward in his seat and glanced at the time, it was 2:41 PM. Just four minutes, and you couldn’t breathe right. You stared at the school entrance, at the polished brass gate where kids in tailored uniforms were to spill out in twos and threes, laughing, shouting, slinging bags over their shoulders. Your fingers dug into the sleeves of your hoodie. You felt everything at once: the heat under your skin, the tremble in your ribs, the dull roar in your ears.

What if he saw you and turned away?

Jake glanced over at you, noticing how you were practically curled in on yourself.

“Hey,” he said gently, voice low and calm. “We don’t even have to get out of the car. Just wait. You’re okay.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t really ok, you were close to having a panic attack. Because for all the ways you’d imagined this, every sleepless night, every “what if” and “maybe someday”, you had never been prepared for the weight of now.

Jake sat up straighter, eyes narrowing slightly.

“There.”

Your heart stopped.

There he was. Walking down the path, half-shadowed beneath the swaying trees, one hand casually in his coat pocket, the other holding a drink tray with two iced coffees balanced perfectly.

Sunghoon.

He hadn’t changed much. Still lean and untouchable, moving like he didn’t belong to this world. His black button-down was half unbuttoned under a navy coat, his sleeves rolled up just enough to show the curve of his veins. Tall and handsome and so perfect and so… yours.

He had sunglasses on, but you would’ve known him even blindfolded.

Your heart slammed so fast against your chest it felt like it might give out.

He stopped beside a parked car near the curb and waited, glancing towards the school. Like he was just another man doing his job.

Panic rose in you like a tide, your hands gripped your seat, nails digging into the leather. Tears stung your eyes before you even knew they were coming.

Jake noticed. He shifted instantly, reaching for your hand.

“Hey,” he whispered, “you’re okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe, okay?”

But you couldn’t. Because you hadn’t seen him in months. You’d mourned him, you’d missed him in ways that never got smaller. You’d kissed him a thousand times in dreams you never spoke of.

And now he was standing thirty feet away.

“I want to get out.”

The words left you before you could stop them, you didn’t even realize you were moving until your fingers found the cold door handle, heart racing so violently it made your breath stutter.

Jake turned sharply toward you, concern written all over his face.

“Wait—”

“I have to,” you said, voice trembling, eyes fixed ahead, on him, scared that even if you turned just a little, he would disappear “He’s right there. I can’t— I need to—”

He was standing besides the car now, leaning against it with that same calm posture you used to love watching from across dressing rooms, hotel lobbies, crowded airports. You moved again, ready to push open the door, but Jake’s hand reached out gently and rested over yours.

“Wait,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Not yet.”

You turned to him, panic laced into every muscle, into your voice.

“Jake, I have to—he’s right there. He’s—he’s right there.”

“I know,” Jake said, his voice low and calm. “I know. But this isn’t the right place.”

You blinked, disoriented, the world blurring at the edges. Everything felt too loud and too quiet at the same time. Jake glanced at the school, the cars lining up, the few parents still standing around, teachers chatting on the steps.

“If you go now, it’ll be messy. Too public. You’ll scare him. You’ll scare yourself.”

You swallowed thickly, your grip tightened on the fabric of your hoodie, knuckles white.

“Let’s wait till he drives off,” Jake continued gently, “and we’ll follow. Somewhere quiet. We’ll stop him there.”

The words made their way through the fog in your head, and slowly, the panic eased. Of course, you forgot for a second who you were, and even in the other side of the world, people would still recognise you. So you nodded.

Jake gave your hand a squeeze, bringing you back to reality.

“You’ve come this far, haven’t you? What’s a few more minutes, star?”

Outside, the doors of the school opened. A tall, lanky teenager walked out with an easy stride—Ni-ki, obviously—and jogged towards the black car, his uniform jacket slipping off one shoulder. He was saying something to Sunghoon, who looked down and gave him a barely-there smile, a flash of softness you hadn’t seen in months. Sunghoon opened the door for him like it was muscle memory. He waited until Ni-ki got in, then circled the front of the car and slid into the driver’s seat. The black car pulled out of the driveway, blending seamlessly into the afternoon traffic.

Your fingers dug into the edge of the leather seat.

“He’s leaving.”

Jake turned the key.

“So are we.”

He pulled out carefully, merging a few cars behind, keeping distance like a shadow. You leaned your head against the window, watching the back of Sunghoon’s car. The city passed by in golden waves, soft light slipping through power lines, painted across glass buildings.

You didn’t know what you would say when you saw him, but you needed to let him know that you wouldn’t give up on him again.

The late Tokyo sun dipped golden through the buildings, brushing across Sunghoon’s face in uneven patches as he drove. He kept one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting on the window ledge. The streets pulsed with the slow after-school traffic, a rhythm he knew too well. It had become routine, 2:45 PM pickup, Ni-ki always dragging his feet, hair a mess, tie half-undone, and some ridiculous snack in hand. Today was no different.

“Your shirt’s untucked again,” Sunghoon murmured without glancing away from the road.

Ni-ki grunted in response, mouth full of something crunchy.

“You’re no fun, man.”

“I’m not supposed to be fun.”

“You’re supposed to be chill,” the teen muttered dramatically, sprawled in the passenger seat like he was on a beach instead of a luxury car. “This is why you’re single.”

Sunghoon let out a small, humorless huff through his nose.

“I’m single because I don’t want to get shot in front of someone.”

“Romantic,” Ni-ki deadpanned.

The car slipped through a quiet stretch of road lined with trees. Shadows filtered over them in a moving pattern of soft grays and oranges. It was calm for long minutes, Sunghoon was already thinking about some schedules Ni-ki’s parents had emailed him earlier that day.

“Bro…” Ni-ki said suddenly, shifting in his seat.

Sunghoon didn’t look at him at first. Just kept his gaze on the road, fingers tapping the wheel absently.

“I’ve told you to not call me bro—”

“I don’t wanna, like, alarm you or anything, but…” Ni-ki leaned forward, squinting out the side mirror, “I think we’re being followed?”

That made Sunghoon blink slowly. The words didn’t jolt him like they used to at first, no rush of panic, he just stayed very still and checked the rearview mirror. One, two… three cars behind them. But his eyes locked onto one. A black car, civilian-looking, the type you’d forget the second it passed, unless you knew what to look for.

His mind slowed everything down. The way it used to when things got dangerous.

He changed lanes.

So did the car.

He took the next turn earlier than he normally would and the black car followed. Smooth, fffortless. Too effortless.

He swallowed.

“You were right,” Sunghoon said quietly.

Ni-ki sat up, suddenly a little less cocky.

“Wait—seriously? Oh my god my parents’ enemies finally got me.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond. His right hand dipped calmly under the seat and retrieved the cold metal tucked in a hidden compartment. His grip on the gun was tight but not nervous. Just… resolved.

Ni-ki saw the motion and went stiff.

“You’re—what the hell—Sunghoon?! Are you serious right now?”

“Get your head down.”

“Wait—what do you mean—”

“Now.”

That tone, it didn’t need to be loud, it was that razor-thin, ice-calm voice that only came out when things were serious. Ni-ki obeyed.

Sunghoon made another turn, this time into a back alley path just beyond the bridge. Golden-hour light pooled on the pavement like liquid amber, spreading long shadows that danced as the wind stirred the trees. The hum of the engine was the only sound.

He brought the car to a slow, controlled stop.

And waited.

The car stopped again just like the whole world around you. Your heart was a hammer inside your chest, beating so hard you could feel the pain in your ribs. Every sound around you faded until there was only the messy rhythm of your breath. You saw the black mercedes and your stomach turned, because you knew he was inside.

“Ok, he’s here—”

Before you could think, before Jake could stop you, you shoved the car door open and stepped into the heat of the afternoon, the sound of your sneakers striking pavement echoed louder than it should have. Your hands were trembling, your fingers curled into fists trying to keep yourself steady, but it didn’t really help.

“Y/n, wait!” Jake’s voice called after you with warning, but he didn’t grab you.

The sun caught on the mercedes’ door as it opened, the metallic click hit like a gunshot in your chest.

Sunghoon stepped out.

It felt like time folded on itself, the past months collapsing into a single heartbeat. He was exactly as you remembered him, but even more devastating. That that grace, that tight jaw, his mouth set in a grim line, his hair tousled from the wind.

And he had a gun in his hand.

It should’ve scared you, but it didn’t, because that was him. Always protecting, just for the first time it wasn’t you who he was protecting.

He didn’t see you at first, his dark eyes scanned the street, narrowing at the unfamiliar car idling behind him. His shoulders shifted with suspicion, tension rolling over him. And then, with a flick of his wrist, he reached for his holster and brought the gun up, arm steady.

The driver’s door of your car opened, and Jake stepped out with his hands raised, calm as ever.

“Hey, man… no need for that.”

Sunghoon’s expression changed then, a flash of recognition, the disbelief that hardened in his gorgeous face.

“…Jake Sim?” His voice was guarded “What the hell—”

But then, he saw you.

It happened so fast but so slow at the same time, his head turned and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, locked on you like they’d been starving. All the steel in his stance faltered, the gun in his hand lowered an inch, his mouth parted just barely, like he forgot how to breathe.

Your name slipped out of him in a whisper, soft and broken.

Everything inside you cracked open at once, you felt weightless, almost like the ground was tilting under your feet. Because after missing him and dreaming of him countless nights, he was finally in front of you again.

You took a step forward before you realised it, his eyes followed like you were gravity itself, but he didn’t move, he just stood there with every muscle drawn tight. The gun slipped from his fingers, landing on the pavement with a muted clatter that didn’t completely registered over the pounding in your ears.

For a long moment neither of you spoke, the air between you was filled with every night wasted, every ache buried deep.

“…What— why are you here?” his voice came like the words had scraped their way out of his chest. Not anger, just a confession of disbelief.

You stared at him, frozen. All the speeches you rehearsed on the plane, all the ways you imagined this moment, they scattered like dust. Your throat tightened so hard it hurt, but you managed his name.

 “Sunghoon.”

It was like the sound of it cracked him open. His body tensed, shoulders pulling tight, and his breath hitched audibly. For a second, you thought he might walk away, might slam that wall of distance back up, but then he moved.

In three sharp strides, he closed the gap and gripped your wrist, not hard but firm, almost trembling, his touch burning through your skin like a brand. He pulled you with him, out of sight, deeper into the narrow alley. The moment you stopped, your back brushed the cold brick, and his body was right there, close enough to feel the heat rolling off him. His gun lay forgotten on the ground, but his eyes were the real weapon now, dark, glassy, devastating.

“Are you out of your mind?” he breathed, voice shaking. His hands curled into fists at his sides, like he didn’t trust them not to touch you again. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done showing up here like this?”

You didn’t back down.

“I don’t care,” you whispered.

Something flickered across his face, pain, longing, fury. His jaw locked so tight you saw the muscle twitch, and then he dragged a hand down his face like he needed the grounding. When he looked at you again, it was fire and ruin and everything you remembered.

“You should care,” he said, almost a plea now. His voice cracked on the last word. “You should care. This—”

He broke off, breath harsh, before bracing one palm against the wall beside your head. His forehead dipped, almost touching yours, close enough that your lashes nearly brushed. His scent hit you, cedar, smoke, the faint coldness of mint gum, and it was too much. Too familiar and too him.

“Why?” he rasped, his breath warm against your cheek. “Why did you come?”

You didn’t even hesitate this time.

“Because I couldn’t live without you.”

The words spilled out like blood from an open wound, raw and unstoppable. His head dropped, eyes squeezing shut for one ragged second, and when they opened again they were completely wrecked.

“Don’t say that—” His voice was barely a whisper. “Don’t say that—”

“I love you,” you said, because if you didn’t say it now, you’d drown in it. “I love you, Sunghoon. And I don’t care about the headlines or the contracts or the stupid rules. I just—God, I love you so much.”

The silence that followed wasn’t silence at all, it was more a scream. It was a crash of months and mistakes and every heartbeat you’d spent apart, colliding in the space between you. Something inside him shattered audibly in the way he exhaled. His shoulders slumped, and for a single, devastating second, he looked like a man fighting for his last breath. Then he broke.

His hands came up to your face so suddenly you gasped, palms cradling your cheeks like he was afraid you’d vanish. And then his mouth was on yours. It was a savage kiss, desperate, aching. His lips crushed yours like he’d been starving and you were the only thing that could keep him alive. You clutched at his shirt, twisting the fabric in your fists, pulling him closer until there was no space left, until you felt his heartbeat slam against your ribs like it wanted to fuse with yours. He kissed you like months of silence and distance had all built to this, teeth clashing, tongues tangling, breathless and wet and hot. His body pinned yours to the wall, not gentle, but not harsh either, just needing.

When he finally tore his mouth from yours, it was only to breathe, his forehead still pressed to yours, both of you gasping like you’d run for miles. His voice when it came was rough and trembling, brushing against your lips.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. “But fuck—” His breath stuttered. “I’m so glad you are.”

Sunghoon’s chest rose and fell like he’d run miles, his fingers twitching at his sides as if touching you might set the earth on fire. His mouth opened once, then closed, his throat working around words that refused to come out.

His lips crushed yours again, bruising, hungry, his breath shaky as it mixed with yours. You whimpered into the kiss, and that tiny sound shattered him, he made a deep, broken noise in his throat and kissed you harder, tilting your head back, devouring like a man starved.

Your tears smeared against his cheeks, and he kissed them away without a thought, tasting salt, tasting heartbreak.

“I love you,” you gasped between his mouth and his jaw, every word spilling like blood. “I love you—God, I’m so fucking sorry—”

“Stop—” His voice cracked against your ear, his arms crushing you tighter as his forehead pressed to yours. “Don’t cry—please—don’t cry—”

But you couldn’t stop. Your body shook against his, sobs clawing up your throat.

“I regret it—I regret everything,” you said, fists curling into his shirt like you wanted to tear it apart. “I should’ve fought for you—I should’ve told them to go to hell—I should’ve—”

His hands came up, cupping your face so gently it was a contradiction to the way his body trembled. His thumbs brushed your tears, but his eyes, they were ruined, soft and blazing all at once.

“Don’t.” he said, almost a whisper, his voice low and raw. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

But you did. Because you couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“I’d throw it all away,” you whispered like a vow, your lips brushing his as you spoke. “Everything—the fame, the tours, the cameras—I don’t care. I just want you.”

He let out a sound between an laugh and a sob, before his mouth was on yours again, harder this time, so hard your back hit the brick wall with a muted thud. His fingers threaded into your hair, his breath ragged against your lips as the kiss turned wild, frantic, like every second apart had carved him hollow.

“You’ll ruin everything,” he breathed, his forehead still pressed to yours, lips ghosting over your mouth like he couldn’t stop. “You’ll ruin me.”

“I already did,” you said, kissing him again, your tears wetting his skin as your lips moved desperately over his.

A shudder ripped through him as he crushed you to him, kissing you like he was trying to steal every ounce of oxygen from your lungs, like he could swallow every sob and replace it with him. His hands roamed, your jaw, your waist, your back, gripping, pulling.

His mouth dragged down your cheek, your throat, your shoulder, murmuring between kisses, voice cracked and reverent:

“I tried to forget. I tried to move on. But I can’t—I can’t—”

Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his arms.

“Then don’t,” you whispered. “Don’t forget me. Don’t let me go.”

His head dropped to your neck, his arms curling around you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, and you realized, you never wanted to breathe without him again.

You were drowning in him when a voice cracked through the lovingly haze.

“Uh… what the hell is happening here?”

You froze. Sunghoon froze. Both of you turned your heads slowly toward the sound. Ni-ki stood there, his expensive school blazer still on, hanging off one shoulder like he’d just walked into an alternate reality. His eyes were huge, mouth hanging open.

“Bro,” he said to Sunghoon, pointing at the two of you like he was accusing him of murder. “Explain. Right now. And it better be good.”

Sunghoon’s chest rose and fell, breath heavy, jaw tight as he instinctively stepped in front of you, shielding you from view. But Ni-ki wasn’t even looking at him anymore, his wide-eyed stare was fixed on you.

“No way,” he whispered. “No fucking way. You’re Y/N. Like—the Y/N.”

Fuck. Of course a gen z teenager would know who you were. You nodded faintly, lips still swollen from Sunghoon’s kiss. Ni-ki’s jaw dropped so hard you thought it might hit the pavement.

“Holy shit,” he said, voice cracking. “Holy actual shit. Dude, you’re—You’re hotter in person. Like, ten times hotter. No, twenty. Oh my God—”

“Ni-ki,” Sunghoon said through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous. “Go. To. The. Car.”

Ni-ki blinked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Go to the car? Bro, you were just making out with Y/N in an alley. I’m not going anywhere. This is history. This is… Wait! That means the rumours were true, you motherfucker—”

You stifled a laugh, hiding your face against Sunghoon’s shoulder, but Ni-ki caught it and pointed at you. Sunghoon looked like he was seconds away from strangling him.

“Ni-ki. Now.”

“No way, dude,” Ni-ki said, crossing his arms like he had leverage now. “You think I’m just gonna forget this? You think I won’t tell anyone? Please.” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Unless…” His smirk was pure evil. “You let me drive the car home.”

“Absolutely not,” Sunghoon snapped.

“Fine,” Ni-ki said, pulling out his phone dramatically. “Guess I’ll just text my group chat about how my bodyguard is kissing an popstar—”

“Alright, enough.”

The new voice made everyone turn. Jake was leaning against the hood of his rented black SUV like some smug action star, hands in his pockets, calm as you’d ever seen him. The softest smirk played on his lips, though, like he was thoroughly enjoying the chaos.

“What if,” Jake said slowly, “we take this somewhere a little more private before the paps find us?”

Ni-ki spun around so fast his backpack nearly flew off. His eyes widened to the size of planets.

“NO. FUCKING. WAY,” he blurted out, pointing like Jake had just descended from heaven. “You’re Jake Sim. Jake. Sim. Of all people! Bro, seriously what the fuck is going on?”

Jake chuckled, walking over like he owned the sidewalk, and ruffled Ni-ki’s hair.

“Nice to meet you, kid,” he said smoothly. “Now maybe keep your voice down before the whole block shows up with cameras, yeah?”

Ni-ki stared at Jake’s hand like he’d just been knighted. His brain looked like it short-circuited completely. Then his eyes darted between you, Sunghoon, and Jake, pure disbelief all over his face.

“This is insane,” he whispered. “I’m never gonna shut up about this.”

“Yes, you will,” Sunghoon growled like he was ready to duct-tape his mouth shut.

Jake clapped his hands once, the only voice of reason.

“Okay. Reunion? Check. Teen meltdown? Check. Paparazzi risk? Big check. So let’s move before this blows up on Twitter.”

Ni-ki raised his hand slowly, trying to look innocent.

“Can I… ride with Jake Sim?”

Sunghoon looked like someone had just set him on fire.

“No.”

“Come onnn,” Ni-ki whined. “I’ll even keep your little forbidden romance secret—”

Jake grinned, leaning down to Ni-ki’s height.

“You can ride with me if you promise not to tell a soul. Deal?”

Ni-ki’s grin stretched so wide it was almost cartoonish.

“Bro, deal.”

“Kid,” Jake muttered as he steered him toward the car, “you better keep your mouth shut for real.”

Ni-ki was still muttering under his breath in awe.

“Jake Sim. Y/N. Kissing Sunghoon in an alley. My friends are never gonna believe this.”

“They better not,” Sunghoon warned, still glaring like he was seconds away from cardiac arrest.

You tried to hold back your laughter and failed completely, your giggles spilling into the humid Tokyo night as Jake and Ni-ki disappeared toward the car, leaving you and Sunghoon in your bubble again, he still holding your hand like he didn’t dare let go. And you knew he would never do it again.

It was kind of funny that you and Sunghoon always ended up in a hotel room.

The elevator doors closed behind you with a low chime, and suddenly it was just the two of you in the narrow space, breathing the same air. You could feel him even without looking, Sunghoon, quiet, hands clasped in front of him like he was holding himself together by sheer force. His presence pressed against your skin like heat, and you swore the walls were closing in.

Your heart pounded so violently you thought he could hear it. Every inch of you ached for him, to turn around, to bury yourself in his chest and stay there forever, but you didn’t. The elevator hummed and rattled as it climbed, and in the metal reflection of the doors, you caught his eyes for a fraction of a second and they were dark, intense.

When the doors slid open, you walked fast, your breath was shallow, trembling in your throat, the keycard slick in your fingers as you fumbled to slide it into the lock. The second the door opened, you stepped inside, and then his hand slammed the door shut behind you with a force that shook the frame.

You turned, your pulse stuttered, and saw him standing there. His chest rising and falling too fast. One stride. Two. And his mouth was on yours like a storm breaking.

The kiss stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t soft or careful, it was raw and desperate. Months of silence and pain poured out between your mouths, tongues clashing, teeth scraping, wet and messy and perfect. You whimpered into him, your hands clawing at his shirt as his arms banded around you, crushing you against him like he couldn’t stand the space between your bodies for another second.

You kissed him back with everything you had, with all the nights you cried into your pillow, all the mornings you woke up hollow, all the words you swallowed because the world told you to. He pressed you against the wall, hips hard against yours, and you could feel the tremor in his hands as they cupped your face like you were something fragile, precious.

When he finally tore his lips from yours, his forehead fell against yours, breaths ragged, heart pounding so loud you swore you could hear it. His voice came out low, broken.

“I tried,” he whispered, each word shaking. “God, I fucking tried to forget you.” His thumbs brushed the tears he didn’t even seem to notice were on your cheeks. “I told myself it was better for you. That if I disappeared, you’d be free and it would be easier.”

Your throat clenched, a sob climbing out before you could stop it.

“I wasn’t,” you choked, your voice breaking into a thousand pieces. “I’m not—I can’t be happy without you.”

Sunghoon let out a groan like you’d just gutted him. He kissed your temple, your cheek, your jaw, soft frantic presses of his lips.

“I thought I was strong enough,” he murmured, his voice wrecked against your skin. “But every night, I pictured you. Wondered if you were okay. Wondered if you hated me.” His voice dropped, hoarse, trembling. “I hated myself for leaving. But if staying meant destroying your life… I couldn’t do it.”

Your fingers curled in his shirt, clutching him like a lifeline, sobs wracking your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears wetting his collar.

“Don’t,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to look at you, his own eyes glassy now, shimmering under the warm glow of the lamp. “Don’t blame yourself. I knew this would happen. I knew the risk when I kissed you that night.” His breath hitched. “And I’d do it again. A thousand times.”

Something in you broke then, shattered into light and sound and saltwater tears, and you pressed your mouth to his, kissing him with everything you had left, everything you couldn’t say. The kiss turned molten, wet and messy and endless, his hands sliding into your hair, gripping like he’d never let you go.

When you finally broke for air, your lips were swollen, your tears smeared with his kisses, and his forehead rested against yours like he needed to feel you to keep breathing. His voice was a prayer now.

“Say it again,” he murmured. “Please—say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Always yours. I love you, Hoon. I don’t care anymore, about the world, the cameras, the press. If I lose everything, I don’t care. I just want you.”

His face crumpled, his breath shaking as he pulled you tighter, burying his face in your neck.

“I love you,” he said, like it hurt. “I love you so much.”

And then his lips were on yours again, softer this time, deeper. Your body melted into him, your heart beating so hard it felt like it would burst, and in that moment, there was no world outside the walls of that hotel room. Just you and him. And the love you’d both bled for.

His lips dragged down your jaw, leaving heat and dampness in their wake. His breath fanned your neck, shaky and hot. His hands were all over your body, needy to remind himself what you felt like.

“I dreamed of this,” he whispered against your skin, his voice gravel and honey. His hands gripped your hips so tightly you could feel his pulse through his palms. “Every fucking night. I’d close my eyes and see you like this, wanting me.”

You whimpered, head tilting back as his mouth grazed your collarbone.

“Hoon—”

“Say it again,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to search your face, eyes dark, desperate. “Say you want me.”

Your throat bobbed, your lips trembling when you spoke.

“I want you.” Your voice cracked, tears stinging your lashes.

The sound he made was almost a growl, guttural from his chest. In one motion, he grabbed the hem of your hoodie and slid it out of your body, letting it fall soundlessly to the floor. His hands followed the lines of your body with aching slowness, fingertips trailing and burning over your curves like he was mapping you for the first time, like he couldn’t believe you were real. And you were melting already, you missed his touch so much.

His mouth crashed to yours again, this kiss wetter, letting your lips slick and throbbing. He kissed you so hungrily, and you tasted him like salvation, clinging to him as his hands gripped the back of your thighs and hoisted you up against the wall. You gasped, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmured against your mouth, his hips pinning you to the wall, making you feel him hard and thick and hot beneath his pants. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged. “I’ve missed you. Missed this. I thought I’d go insane.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard which made him groan, and you bit his lip before whispering,

“Then take me, Hoon. Please.”

Sunghoon didn’t wait any longer. He carried you to the bed, barely breaking the kiss, and laid you down like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. But then he paused, his hand on your cheek, his gaze burning into yours, you smiled sweetly, biting your lip with anticipation. His mouth descended to your throat, and you felt his teeth graze your pulse before he licked and kissed the spot softly, sucking just enough to leave a mark only the two of you would know. His hands were everywhere, unbuttoning your jeans and peeling them off with rush, throwing them on the floor, then touching up your thighs, cupping your ass as he ground against you, his hard length pressing hot and heavy against your core through layers of laced fabric from your panties.

“God, you’re soaked,” he groaned when his fingers found the lace between your legs, already clinging to you, drenched. And it made him lose his mind. “All this for me?”

“Yes,” you moaned, hips twitching under his touch. “Always for you.”

His fingers slipped under the lace, slow, teasing, tracing your folds until you were trembling and breathless. He didn’t push in, just teased, showing you how much he missed having you like this. Then he looked up at you, his hair falling into his eyes, looking so beautiful and wrecked but so yours. His voice low and filthy when he spoke.

“I’m gonna taste you,” he whispered. “Every inch of you. I’m not stopping until you’re shaking so hard you can’t say my name.”

And before you could breathe, he was gone from your lips and sliding down your body, his mouth open and wet on your skin, dragging kisses down your stomach, over your hips. When his tongue met your thigh, you cried out, your back arching, your fingers fisting in the sheets. His hands curled over the fabric of your underwear, and he pushed them down before spreading your thighs with firm but sweet hands, his gaze still on you, looking at you so deeply you felt your stomach flutter. His eyes shined at the sight, a soft groan leaving his throat when two of his fingers found your dripping core, spreading your wetness and sinking just slightly, which made you whine his name again.

“Hoon…” Your voice cracked around his name as a plea.

He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, soft, then another closer to where you needed him most. His tongue darted out, tasting the edge of your slickness, and he groaned low, the sound vibrating through your bones.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” he confessed against your skin, his breath hot, his lips grazing the sensitive flesh. “Every fucking night. Waking up hard and angry because I couldn’t have you.” His teeth grazed your thigh before his tongue soothed the sting.

You suppressed a gasp as he leaned in and finally dragged his warm tongue through your folds, in one slow, sinful stroke that left you shakinh. He humed against you, a deep sound of satisfaction, before latching onto your clit, sucking gently, then harder, until your legs trembled.

“Sunghoon—” The cry tore from your throat as his fingers slid inside you, two thick digits stretching you perfectly while his mouth worked your clit like he owned it. His pace was steady, devastating, curling his fingers just right with every thrust, hitting that spot that made your vision go white.

He looked up at you from between your thighs, his eyes burning, his lips glossy and red, his chin slick with you.

“Look at you,” he rasped, voice vibrating against your clit. “Fucking perfect. Missed you so fucking much.”

You didn’t know if you were crying or just sweating under the weight of everything, his mouth, his hands, his voice wrecking you from the inside out.

“Sunghoon—” you whispered, your voice breaking, your hands threading through his dark hair, tugging because you needed him closer, even though he was already everywhere. Your thighs trembled around his head, your hips twitching against his mouth as his tongue traced slow circles on your clit.

“Please—please, I can’t—” The words tumbled out in a sob, desperate and ruined. “I can’t wait anymore—”

That was when he stopped, pulling his lips from your aching pussy. He looked at you, eyes glassy and hungry, the sweat beading along his temple. His lips parted, and his voice came rasping.

“Can’t what, baby?” His fingers trailed lazily over your thighs, spreading you wider, his knuckles brushing your slick folds. “Tell me.”

“I can’t wait,” you said, breathless, tugging at his shirt needing him closer. “I need you inside me. Please. I’ve missed you so much it hurts.”

He groaned again, more primal this time and crawled up your body, slow and predatory, until his weight pressed you into the mattress and you felt every inch of him, hard and straining against his pants. His forehead pressed to yours as he exhaled, ragged, shaky.

“You have no idea,” he said finally, and his voice cracked. His lips brushed yours when he whispered, “You think you’re the only one who’s been losing her mind? I’ve been dying for you.”

He kissed you then, messy, desperate, tasting like salt and hunger and everything you thought you’d lost forever. You whimpered against his lips, your nails clawing down his back wanting to feel him closer as possible.

“Then take me,” you begged softly when he broke for air, your voice trembling against his mouth. “Please, Hoon. I don’t care about anything else. Just you.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched as he dragged his pants down in one brutal move, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, the tip flushed a furious red that made your stomach clench. He caught your eyes as he lined himself up, the head sliding against your slick entrance, teasing you until you cried out.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his voice soaked in sin. “How hard I am for you? Been like this since the second I saw you again. Almost lost my mind in that alley.”

You whimpered, hips rolling toward him, but he gripped your thighs and pinned you down with a dark chuckle.

“Not yet,” he whispered, brushing kisses over your jaw, your temple, your lips, making you sob softly in frustration. “Say it again.”

“I want you,” you cried, tears spilling this time. “I want you so bad. Please, Sunghoon—”

He kissed you hungry again, not waiting anymore, and then he pushed inside you. Inch by inch until the world fell out from under you. Until the air was gone from your lungs and you were nothing but his, stretched full around him, your walls clenching around him, your body showing you and him how much you missed him. You sobbed when he bottomed out, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his breath ragged against your skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, almost broken. “You’re still so tight—still fucking mine.”

He pulled back, just enough to thrust in deep, the drag of him inside you so intense your whole body jolted, he was so thick and hard and so yours, every inch made just for you, every vein. You gasped, nails digging into his arms as tears slipped down your temples onto the pillow.

“I missed this pussy so much,” he whispered against your neck, voice splintering into something almost soft, almost sacred. “Missed you. Missed us.”

Sunghoon then started to move, slow at first, long strokes that had you clawing at his back, until the rhythm deepened, rougher, needier. Your moans tangled with his groans, the hotel walls holding secrets only the two of you would ever know.

“I love you,” you gasped into his ear between thrusts, and he stilled for a heartbeat, before kissing you so hard it hurt, his hips snapping forward like the words set him on fire.

“I love you too,” he growled against your lips. “Always have. Always fucking will.”

You gasped his name, head tipping back into the pillow, body arching toward him. Every nerve felt like it was lit from within, your skin hypersensitive, your thighs trembling, your heartbeat pounding so loudly you swore he could hear it. Your hands roamed his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he thrust deeper, your fingers pressing into the dips of his spine.

Sunghoon’s mouth found yours again, messy and searing, lips swollen from earlier kisses. When he pulled away, just enough to see you, his eyes burned. His hips snapped forward again, harder now, his rhythm rough with emotion. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure up your spine, your hands tangled in his hair, your body arching to meet him with every devastating roll of his hips. You felt everything, the stretch, the slide, the heat of his skin, the weight of his body pinning you down in the best way. It was everything you could ever dream of, everything you needed.

The pressure was coiling tighter in your belly, your whole body winding up, hypersensitive and slick with sweat and tears. Your nipples rubbed against his chest with every movement, your skin fever-hot. You could feel his every breath, his every heartbeat, they were yours. He was yours.

“You’re everything,” he rasped, voice breaking. “My whole fucking world, baby. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” you sobbed, your climax building, teetering on the edge. “Please, Sunghoon—don’t stop—”

He kissed your jaw, your throat, the wet tracks of your tears, whispering against your skin as he moved.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Come on, sweetheart. Give it to me. Wanna feel you fall apart around me. Show me you never stopped being mine.”

You came hard, with a cry that tore from your throat, your body clenching around him so tightly it made him groan your name loudly. Sunghoon followed you a moment later, his release crashing into him. He spilled warm and perfect inside you with a broken sound, hips rocking through it, burying himself deep. You felt him all, the heat of him filling you, the shudder of his breath, the way he clutched your face as he came undone.

He collapsed over you, breath hitching in your ear, his arms wrapped around you like he was afraid you’d vanish, or that maybe you would abandon him again. Your fingers stroked his damp hair, your own chest rising and falling, your legs still trembling around him.

“I’m here,” you whispered, kissing his temple. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever again. I choose you now, forever.”

And in that moment, with him in your arms again, you knew that the world wasn’t going to stop you from loving him anymore.

They stepped into cheap snacks, too-cold drinks, and the almost non-existent hum of silence broken only by crinkling chip bags.

Ni-ki bounced on his heels as he followed Jake around, barely containing himself, still reeling.

“I cannot believe I walked in on my bodyguard swallowing a popstar’s face,” he said for the fourth time, holding a popsicle in one hand and a ramen cup in the other. “Like what the hell. What is this life.”

Jake, calm as ever, was inspecting the banana milk section without saying much, just letting his thoughts come and go.

“You’re not ten years old, it was just a kiss.”

“It was! But still!” Ni-ki spun in a lazy circle before plopping a bag of shrimp chips into their basket. “I was expecting maybe a little kiss, not her legs—”

“Okay,” Jake cut in with a soft laugh, “no need for a play-by-play.”

“No, because seriously,” Ni-ki leaned in, eyes wide and whisper-shouting like it was the biggest conspiracy theory ever, “she’s, like, Y/N. And he’s my bodyguard. And you—” he pointed a chip at Jake dramatically, “—are Jake Sim. And you just bought me a soda. I think I might be dreaming.”

Jake snorted, ruffling Ni-ki’s hair like an annoying older brother.

“You really are something.”

“You’re buying me snacks right now,” Ni-ki muttered to himself in disbelief, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store. “What is my life.”

Jake shook his head, but there was fondness in his expression, because to be honest, he found the boy’s chaos comforting.

They reached the self-checkout, and as Jake scanned Ni-ki’s growing mountain of snacks, he leaned against the counter, his gaze drifting toward the street outside, to the dark, sleepy hotel windows in the distance. A soft sigh left his lips. Ni-ki took one of the peach sodas from the bag and popped the cap, passing it to Jake like a silent truce offering, noticing his stillness.

“You’re quiet. That means you’re thinking.”

Jake took a slow sip, then exhaled through his nose.

“I’m just… glad she’s happy. I wasn’t sure she’d go back to him. Not after everything.”

Ni-ki tilted his head.

“Are you in love with her?”

Jake was quiet for a beat, the question landing heavier than expected.

“I wouldn’t say that.” he said with soft voice, passing a hand through his hair. “I thought i was for a moment, but after seeing how she was when Sunghoon was away, how could i. It’s just…” he stayed silent for a moment. “This reminds me of something”

Ni-ki just waited.

“Whoa. Okay. Spill.”

Jake gave a little laugh under his breath that was more tired than amused.

“She was my makeup artist. Back when I’d just debuted. We spent every day together, she saw me before every performance, every breakdown, every win. And she never made me feel like a product.”

Ni-ki’s brows lifted, genuine curiosity lighting his boyish features.

Jake went on, his voice still calm and sweet.

“She left. Said she couldn’t live like that, backstage all the time, in the shadows. Said she loved me too much to watch me disappear into this world. And then… she was just gone.”

For once, Ni-ki didn’t say anything. He stood still, popsicle slowly melting in his hand.

Jake glanced down, smiling faintly, like the memories were bittersweet and too much for him to handle.

“I never got to tell her that I would’ve chosen her. That I wanted to.”

Ni-ki blinked rapidly.

“Dude. That’s, like… way sadder than I thought it would be.

Jake laughed, tilting his head back against the glass.

“Yeah, well. I think that’s why I’m so protective of Y/N. I know what it’s like to love someone and not be able to hold on to them. And I don’t want her to feel like she has to choose between her happiness and her career. I want her to have both.”

Ni-ki took a long slurp of his melting popsicle and stared at Jake like he was watching an angel descend from heaven.

“You’re, like… the best guy ever.”

Jake gave him a look, rolling his eyes.

“You just met me.”

“I know. But you’re Jake Sim, you bought me shrimp chips and you’re literally walking emotional support. I’m putting this in my memoir someday.”

Jake shook his head with a grin, stuffing the receipt into his pocket.

“Come on, let’s get out of here before you say something even weirder.”

As they stepped out into the warm night, their arms full of snacks, Ni-ki looked up at the dark hotel windows again.

“They’re definitely having emotional reunion sex right now.”

Jake sighed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. And I’m happy for them.”

Today was the day, your first press conference since the scandal, since the pr stunt, since you changed labels and sent your manager to go to hell, and you’d been silent. Until now.

Inside the glassy, chandelier-lit ballroom, it was all flashes and anticipation. Rows of journalists filled every seat, murmuring into microphones, adjusting cameras, flipping through rumor-filled notes. The scandal had been whispered across the internet like wildfire, rumors of hotel sightings, a bodyguard disappearing from staff lists, a popstar vanishing from the public eye.

you stepped in. You didn’t just enter, you arrived. Like a storm parting the silence.

In that black tailored dress with a slit running high up your thigh and a delicate gold chain glittering across your collarbones, you looked like a goddess who had walked through fire and survived. Your heels tapped against the marble floor, the rhythm steady, like your heartbeat had finally synced with your purpose. You walked with grace, with fury.

Cameras turned as one. Gasps echoed. Jake Sim, sitting a few seats down at the table, blinked in quiet admiration and pride.

You didn’t look left or right, you sat at the center of the stage.

A microphone blinked red.

A reporter leaned forward, voice cautious.

“There’s been a lot of speculation. About your relationship with your former bodyguard… would you like to comment?”

You looked out at them all, the press, the producers, the people who’d written your downfall before even knowing your truth.

And then you smiled. That dangerous, soft, stunning smile. And leaned into the mic.

“I’ve been silent,” you said, your voice like honey and thunder. “I let everyone else tell the story. I let headlines turn him into a scandal. I let fear control me for too long.”

Flashes, everywhere.

“But I’m done being afraid of my own heart.”

Another hush.

You exhaled.

“I’m in love with my former bodyguard.”

Gasps broke like waves around the room.

But you didn’t flinch. You kept going, calm and powerful and undeniably true.

“I’m in love with the man who stood behind me when I felt like the world was falling apart. The man who didn’t care about fame or cameras or what anyone thought of me. The man who looked at me like I was real when I couldn’t even breathe from all the pressure.”

Your fingers lightly touched the base of the mic, grounding yourself.

“I know people will say it’s reckless. I know some people already have. But I’m tired of pretending I’m not allowed to feel joy. He never asked for this attention. He never once took advantage of his position. He just… saw me. And I saw him. I loved him in the quiet moments, and now I want to love him in the light.”

Your voice broke, just slightly. But your eyes glowed brighter than ever.

“I don’t care what it means for my reputation. I don’t care what people tweet. I love him. And I’m not ashamed of that anymore.”

Silence.

Somewhere in the crowd, a single clap. Then another. The place exploted in claps and shouts and flashes, some were supporting, other in desbelief, someone shouted how you were making history.

But you didn’t care, you weren’t even thinking about making history.

You were thinking about Sunghoon’s hands.

His voice whispering I love you too against your lips in a hotel room weeks ago.

You were thinking about the way he looked at you like you were a miracle. And how much you loved him. The man that risked his life so many times for yours, and held you like you were precious. No amount of fame or money or scandals could ever make you letting him go ever again.

Your penthouse was bathed in warm, golden light. The city sparkled quietly beneath you, skyscrapers and bridges glowing like constellations. Romantic, intimate and soft. You stood at the edge of the room, barefoot, the red silk nightgown hugging your frame like it was made from poured fire. Your hair framed your face in loose waves, the kind that made him ache, and your eyes looked they looked like they could unmake him with a single glance.

Sunghoon was sitting on your bed, shirtless, his skin glowing in the amber glow from the chandelier above. His eyes had followed your every movement from the moment you stepped into the room like a man starved, reverent, stunned that you were real and here and his again.

You walked slowly, dragging your fingertips along the edge of the marble nightstand, the silk whispering against your thighs with every step. The air between you crackled.

“You gonna just stare at me all night?” you murmured with a teasing tilt of your lips.

Sunghoon’s voice came so low.

“I’ve been dreaming about this every night.”

You reached him, and he reached for you like instinct. His large hands slid around your waist, slow, sure, pulling you gently into his lap. You straddled him without hesitation, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips, your silk robe falling open just enough for his breath to leave his lungs.

“You’re not dreaming,” you whispered, brushing his hair from his eyes. “I’m right here.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he murmured, almost brokenly, burying his face in your neck. “But I swear to God, I’m going to spend every second proving I do.”

You tilted his chin up and kissed him, slow and deep and soft, a kiss that made time bend. His lips parted under yours, hungry and tender all at once.

When your bodies finally lowered into the sheets, it was with unspoken understanding, no rush, no wild urgency. Just… reverence.

He kissed the dip of your collarbone, your shoulder, the space beneath your breast. His hands moved reverently, thumbs tracing your skin like scripture, as if memorizing the curve of your waist and the softness of your thighs was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing the words into your sternum like a vow. “Not for how you look tonight — even though you’re destroying me — but for who you are when the cameras are off. When it’s just you.”

You spoke with weak voice.

“I’m still scared.”

“I know,” he said, kissing your trembling mouth. “But I’m here. Not going anywhere.”

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#enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut

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ninisdollie · 3 days ago

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#ninisdollie chit chats #enhypen smut #enhypen jake

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