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tobiosbbyghorl · 2 months ago

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Hoodie Thief Epilogue | psh 🔞

You heard the front door unlock.

Keys clinked on the counter. A low exhale followed—he was home.

You stayed exactly where you were, curled up on the couch in nothing but his old grey zip-up hoodie, pulled just long enough to cover what little else you had on underneath. The sleeves swallowed your hands. The cotton smelled like him. And you knew exactly what you were doing.

Footsteps padded across the floor. Then silence.

“…Are you serious right now?” Sunghoon’s voice came out low, already wrecked. You didn’t even look up at first, choosing instead to stretch, arms over your head lazily so the hem lifted just enough to flash your bare thighs and the curve of your waist.

“You said everything off,” you replied, pretending not to notice how hard he was staring. “I compromised.”

That was all it took.

He was in front of you in two strides. You blinked up at him, wide-eyed and oh-so-innocent. That made him smirk—half amused, half completely undone.

“Grey hoodie?” he murmured, tugging at the zipper. “Wrong choice, baby.”

Your breath hitched.

He dragged the jacket off your shoulders slowly—treating it like it offended him—and tossed it somewhere across the room. In its place, he slipped on his new brown hoodie, the one from the selfie. Warm from his body heat, slightly oversized, and zipped halfway up just enough to keep your chest cradled in soft cotton and nothing else.

“This one looks better on you anyway,” he said, brushing your hair behind your ears, his hands lingering just long enough to tease.

Then he leaned in and kissed you.

It was slow and deep at first, his fingers tightening around your waist like he’d been craving the feel of you all day. You gripped the hoodie, tugging him down, needing him closer. His lips trailed along your jaw, then lower—over your neck, your collarbone, all while his thumbs traced soft, maddening circles over your thighs.

“You drive me insane,” he whispered against your skin. “Always playing with fire.”

You hummed, eyes fluttering shut when his hips pressed into yours, firm and intentional. “Maybe I like getting burned.”

That made him groan.

Sunghoon lowered you gently onto the couch, his body covering yours like a shield—strong, warm, familiar. The kiss turned messy fast, hands exploring, hoodie bunching around your ribs as he tasted every reaction you gave him. His palm slid beneath the fabric, spreading heat over your bare stomach, the edge of your ribs, the underside of your—

“You’re mine now,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “And I’m not letting you walk around like this unless I’m the one putting it on and taking it off.”

You gasped at the shift in his tone—possessive, desperate, laced with affection.

“Then do it,” you whispered back, breathless. “Show me.”

The couch was a blur.

Your mind barely registered how he scooped you up—effortless, like you weighed nothing—and carried you down the hallway. His grip was tight, his hoodie riding up your bare thighs as your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist.

“Bed?” you murmured against his neck, voice breathy and eager.

But Sunghoon chuckled low in your ear, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

“No,” he said. “Shower. I want you soaked, pressed against glass, begging.”

Your stomach flipped.

The bathroom light flicked on, and before you could process much else, he was setting you down on the counter—his hoodie still half zipped on you, hair a little messy now, lips kiss-swollen. He took a moment just to stare.

“God, look at you,” he whispered. “Wearing my hoodie like you belong in it.”

He palmed your waist slowly, possessively. “Like you belong to me.”

You leaned forward, brushing your lips just under his jaw, and whispered, “I do.”

That broke him.

The hoodie was off in one swift motion, joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor. His mouth was back on yours—hungrier this time, rougher—his hands trailing down, gripping, kneading, leaving no inch of you untouched. You felt his restraint cracking under every soft whimper you gave him, every roll of your hips against his.

When he finally stepped back, it was only to twist the shower on—steam blooming instantly into the room. He caught your gaze in the mirror, and for a moment, the look between you said more than anything else: heat, intimacy, tension, love.

He guided you in under the water, pressing you gently back against the cool tile while the steam curled around both of your bodies. The contrast of heat and chill made your breath hitch.

Sunghoon’s hands smoothed up your sides, reverent now—eyes dragging along every line of your soaked skin. “Been thinking about this all day,” he murmured, voice ragged. “Having you like this. Marking you up. Making sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

You tipped your head back as his lips found your neck, then your chest, slowly working their way down—each kiss deliberate, each touch claiming.

He worshipped you there, under the spray of warm water—his hands gripping your hips tight, your thighs trembling around his. His lips didn’t leave your skin, mouth hot and hungry and desperate. He didn’t just touch; he memorized.

And when you finally pulled him back up and whispered his name, pleading—he pressed his forehead to yours, breath mingling with yours in the steam.

“I love you,” he said, raw and real. “You know that, right?”

Your heart stuttered even in all the haze.

“I do,” you whispered back, fingers tangled in his wet hair. “And I love you, too.”

The water beat down over both of you, steam curling around your bodies as Sunghoon caged you against the tile wall, eyes dark with something primal.

He was everywhere—his touch, his breath, his heat.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he rasped, voice low, his hands sliding up your soaked skin, cupping the underside of your breasts with reverence. “Wearing my hoodies. Teasing me. Acting like you don’t know what it does to me.”

You gasped when his thumbs swept over your chest, slow and deliberate, his lips following not far behind.

Your back arched as his mouth found one soft curve, kissing, licking, sucking like he was completely addicted—groaning low when you whimpered his name.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, dragging his tongue over your skin. “These—” he gave a gentle squeeze, “—have been driving me insane.”

You clutched at his shoulders, panting, your legs wobbling from how good it felt—how slow and focused he was, like this was the only part of you he wanted to worship right now.

“I can’t—Sunghoon, please,” you breathed, voice shaking. “I need more.”

That made him groan against your skin.

“Say it again,” he said, hands gliding down your hips, his mouth still teasing your chest. “Beg for it.”

“Please,” you whispered, half-crying now with want. “Touch me. I want you so bad—I need you.”

The way his jaw clenched at your words made your head spin. He looked at you like he was holding on by a thread, torn between savoring you and completely losing control.

“God, baby,” he said, voice wrecked. “You’re perfect. You’re mine.”

And then he kissed you—wet, desperate, fingers threading through your hair as the water poured over your bodies and your name fell from his lips like a promise.

He didn’t even wait for the water to stop before he turned you around.

The steam curled around your bodies as your hands braced against the tile, and you could feel the heat of him right behind you—his chest pressed to your back, his hands sliding down your slick thighs before gripping them firmly, spreading you just enough.

“Still begging?” he asked, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice gravelly and teasing.

You nodded helplessly, arching into him, your skin humming from the mix of warmth, water, and want. “Please, Hoon,” you whispered. “I want you… right here.”

That snapped whatever restraint he had left.

He groaned into your neck, fingers digging into your hips as his body aligned with yours—slow, deliberate, driving both of you insane with every roll of his hips. His hands weren’t still for a second, alternating between caressing your waist and sliding up to cup your chest again, like he couldn’t help himself.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, pressing kisses to the curve of your shoulder. “Every time I touch you here—” he palmed your chest again, earning a broken moan from your lips, “—you sound so pretty.”

“Sunghoon—please—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, giving in, his pace gradually building with every needy cry you let out. “I’ve got you. I always do.”

The shower walls echoed with wet skin, low moans, and the sound of his name spilling from your lips like a mantra. He kissed down your spine, hand snaking around to toy with your chest again—squeezing, thumbing gently at your sensitive skin, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally fell apart in his arms, body trembling under the heat, Sunghoon followed right after—groaning your name like it was the only word he knew.

Still inside you, still clinging to you, he leaned his forehead against your back and laughed breathlessly.

“You’re never allowed to wear a bra around me again,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

You smirked, turning your head just enough to meet his eyes.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

His eyes darkened again, even as he reached for the towel with one hand.

“Oh, you want another round, don’t you?”

You didn’t even make it out of the bathroom.

Towel barely draped over your hips, his hoodie somewhere lost in the chaos, Sunghoon caught your wrist and spun you into him—still wet, still wild from the shower.

Your lips crashed again, mouths hot and desperate, his hands gripping your waist like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you. You gasped when your back hit the cool mirror, a sharp contrast to his warm skin.

He caught that reaction with a smirk, leaning in to whisper, “Want to see how wrecked you look when I touch you?”

Your breath hitched.

He turned you around slowly, his chest flush against your back, and your eyes met his through the fogged-up reflection. His hands slid up your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake, before cupping your chest—palming you firmly, thumbs brushing your nipples with an unhurried tease.

You whimpered, the sound raw in your throat as your body arched into his.

“You love this,” he murmured in your ear, watching you squirm under his touch. “The way I touch you here.”

Your head fell back against his shoulder, lips parting with a shaky moan as he rolled your sensitive peaks between his fingers, wet kisses trailing along your neck.

“Look at yourself,” he growled. “All mine. Gorgeous. Desperate. Just for me.”

You could barely hold your weight as his hips ground into you from behind, slow and firm. His hands never left your chest—his favorite place to claim you, tease you, own you.

Each motion dragged the towel looser around your hips until it slipped to the floor.

He groaned at the sight—his hand dropping to grip your thigh, hitching it up just enough to make you feel how easily he could take you again right then and there.

And then he did.

Your hands flew to the counter as he pushed into you from behind, your eyes locking in the mirror—his chest flush to your back, your lips parted in a breathless gasp, his hands sliding right back to your chest, like he couldn’t stay away.

“Sunghoon—” you choked out, already falling apart from the view alone. “God, I—”

“I know, baby,” he whispered, biting gently at your shoulder. “Come for me just like this—watch yourself fall apart in my arms.”

And you did.

With a cry and his name on your tongue, you shattered—watching the way he held you, touched you, ruined you while still loving every inch.

And Sunghoon? He followed right after, groaning your name against your skin, gripping your chest like a lifeline, pressing kisses to your spine even as you both trembled against the mirror.

He didn’t let go. Not even after.

Just held you close, murmuring soft praises between kisses to your shoulder, still watching you in the mirror like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

You were both finally in bed—well, sort of. Sunghoon had flopped onto his back like he was absolutely wrecked, hair damp and messy, lips kiss-swollen, and chest rising and falling in deep, satisfied breaths.

You were sprawled half on top of him, your thigh draped over his, his fingers lazily trailing circles on your bare back.

He looked at peace. Until you lifted your head and gave him a slow, wicked smirk.

“So… new brown hoodie, huh?” you drawled, voice still husky from everything that just happened.

Sunghoon blinked, then laughed, head tipping back into the pillow. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying, you post a hot little selfie in it, I get all flustered, and then suddenly I’m getting absolutely destroyed against a mirror.”

He gave you a look—equal parts amused and fond, a little dazed around the edges. “Destroyed, huh?”

You grinned, trailing a finger down his chest, right where you’d left faint marks. “Don’t act innocent. You replaced my emotional support grey jacket mid-makeout. That’s sabotage.”

“I was being romantic,” he said, deadpan, though the faint flush creeping into his cheeks betrayed him. “You were wearing my favorite old hoodie with nothing under it—what was I supposed to do?”

“Mm,” you hummed, lips brushing his collarbone. “So it’s true. You do have a booby obsession.”

His hand slid to your waist. “I adore them. I’m respectful about it, though.”

“You sucked on them for like ten minutes in the shower.”

“I was worshipping,” he corrected, grinning now.

You giggled, burying your face into his neck, and he sighed contentedly, wrapping both arms around you tighter.

“…Are you gonna steal the new brown hoodie next?” he asked, voice muffled in your hair.

You pretended to think. “Only if you wear it shirtless again. Maybe with those gray sweatpants you forgot you owned.”

Sunghoon groaned into the pillow, pulling the blanket up higher over both of you. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You kissed his jaw and smiled.

“Then I’ll make sure you go out happy.”

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