@BELIFTLAB RETRACT YOUR STATEMENT. LET HEESEUNG DO SOLO ACTIVITIES WHILE BEING AN ENHYPEN MEMBER #BELIFTLABTREATENHYPENBETTER#HEESEUNG#ENHYPENIS7#COMEBACKHEESEUNG ENHYPEN HOME #ENHYPEN_IS_7#ENHYPEN_HOME#Alwayswithyou
Summary — Unlike his friends, Sunghoon is a good guy. He would never, ever dare to look at another woman... until you came along.
CW & Tags — 18+ MDNI, smut, college au, cheater!Hoon x sidechick!reader, sub!reader, mean dom!Sunghoon, very possessive!Sunghoon, p in v, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, messy sex, multiple orgasms, drunk sex, degradation, praise, mild exhibitionism, bathroom sex, cumshots, using a tie as restraints, partially-clothed sex, alcohol consumption, very brief mentions of puking, infidelity, morally corrupt characters, misogynistic themes & language, pet names: (pretty girl/thing, slut, referring to reader in possessive terms ex; ‘mine’, baby), major pathetic loser behaviour on hoon’s behalf, featuring Hyung line as hoon’s equally pathetic loser roommates, Jay is the only decent one of them tbh, girlfriend is unnamed, use of the word “bitch” only once (not directed at reader), tw league of legends mentioned
Words — 9.4k
A/N — raise your hand if, instead of studying for midterms, you decided to write almost 10k words of pure filth... oh, just me?
From ♡ : have fun tonight.
From ♡ : love you!
Have fun?
Sunghoon sighs at the message notification, looking up from his cellphone to glare around the room. The apartment is nearly packed to the brim with his roommate’s party guests, though that wasn’t saying much, given how small the place was. Jake is hosting and naturally, being the loser he is, all of his other friends are losers too. Which means he has to steep in the stench of this loser-filled apartment all night, counting down the seconds until all of them leave. As if dealing with three loser roommates isn’t annoying enough as is. Needless to say, he would not be having any “fun”.
“God, it stinks,” Sunghoon says under his breath, bringing his shirt to his nose, “do Jake’s friends, like, know what deodorant is?”
“Shouldn’t you be used to it?” Heeseung’s eyes are glued to his phone screen, doomscrolling. And normally, Sunghoon would mock him for acting like a damn iPad kid at a party of all places, but honestly, he’s itching to do the same. “I’m willing to bet your Comp Sci lectures smell a whole lot worse.”
“At least that’s a lecture hall and not my apartment.”
“Our apartment,” Jay corrects, emerging from the crowd to hand them each a can of beer. Sunghoon takes his, and Heeseung doesn’t notice until Jay rests the cold metal atop his head. He takes it without so much as glancing up. “Which always smells anyway, thanks to you.”
“Me?” Heeseung scoffs, opening the can with one hand before taking a loud, careless gulp. Sunghoon watches with disgust as the drink spills down the sides of his mouth, rolling down his chin.
“Your room is a fucking biohazard. The whole place gets stink-bombed every time you open your damn door.”
“Yeah? And what about your shits stink-bombing the bathroom every morning?”
“That’s a normal bodily function!”
“There’s nothing normal about that smell, dude.”
He rolls his eyes, scrolling a little further on his phone until Sunghoon’s most recent post pops up. It’s him and his girlfriend arm in arm, smiling like they’re on the cover of a Hallmark movie.
“Shit, you had your anniversary?” He squints, reading the caption, “How long has it been, anyway?”
“Two years.”
“Two years?” They answer in unison.
“…Yeah?” Sunghoon raises a brow, raising his drink to his lips. He glares from one to the other as the pair exchange side glances.
“Didn’t realize it was that serious.” Jay adds, and before Sunghoon can even open his mouth to ask what that’s supposed to mean, he interjects himself, raising his hands in surrender, “Don’t get me wrong! I’m happy if you’re happy. It’s just, you never bring her around, so…”
Sunghoon brushes a hand through his hair, avoiding Jay’s gaze. It’s not like he doesn’t want to bring his girlfriend around. Rather, she’s the one who doesn’t want to come.
“Don’t you think they’re kind of… immature?” She had asked carefully, the very night after meeting them for the first time. He recalls his heart sinking with disappointment. The relationship had still been fresh, and like anyone else at the beginning of something new, he was eager to please. No one wants to hear that their girlfriend disapproves of their closest friends. Though perhaps the worst part of it was that he couldn’t even blame her for it. Jake and Heeseung had decided to make the world’s most abysmal first impression, after all. He cringes at the memory of them trying to prove who could burp the loudest in the middle of dinner, shamelessly and completely unprovoked. As a result, she chooses to avoid any gatherings that involve his friends entirely, though she’d never admit it upfront.
“She’s busy, that’s all,” Sunghoon brushes it aside, “but I am happy. Things with her are easy.”
“Don’t make me throw up,” Heeseung fake gags, swiping away from the post to some meme below it. “Keep your happy, healthy, long-term relationship to yourself.”
“Maybe you should try it sometime,” Sunghoon deadpans, eyes narrowing at his phone screen when he sees his friend stop at some Instagram model’s post, zooming in on her ass. “You know. Instead of doing whatever this is.”
“Nah,” Heeseung chuckles, still biting his lip as he opens the girl’s DMs, typing out god knows what. “Gotta play the field while I’m young. Make good memories before getting tied down.”
“Good memories? Like that time your ex’s ex-gang-member-ex-boyfriend threatened to beat your ass?” Jay taunts, “No, wait. It must be the time the police showed up to arrest that drug dealer chick you were sleeping with. Then searched our entire fucking apartment.”
“You gotta experience the lows in life to experience the highs. And both were good fucks, so at least I got something out of it.”
“Probably got chlamydia out of it, too,” Jay mutters, prompting Heeseung to finally look up from his device, flashing him a glare.
“Never heard of quality over quantity?” Sunghoon finally says, “Maybe if you didn’t sleep with the first bitch that gave you attention, you’d realize it isn't all that worth it.”
“Quality, huh?” Heeseung purrs, and Sunghoon feels his arm snake its way around his shoulders, leaning in with a low voice, “So she keeps you that satisfied?”
"She does." A light flush rises to Sunghoon’s cheeks. His voice drops to a mumble, “Not that it’s any of your business.”
It’s not entirely a lie. He is satisfied… in the ways that mattered. His girlfriend is stable. Mature. Kind. Responsible. The kind of girl you’d take home to your mother, who sits with her legs crossed, back straight, whose shirts are always ironed, whose hair is always neatly tied back from her face. The kind of girl who always shows up on time— who never says anything wrong. A girl who is friends with the right kind of people, who is respectable. The kind of girl you’d expect to be dating Sunghoon, who is equally as respectable and high-esteemed in his own right. And yet, he couldn’t help the gnawing feeling inside, the one that kept reminding him of how he is so deeply bored. Everything with her is so predictable. Every conversation is like an interview. Every touch, devoid of a spark. Every social media post is an unspoken obligation to keep up appearances. And the sex? It’s just… fine. And while an evening alone with his right-hand and laptop was enough to keep his desires bay, it was never enough to satiate them.
It’s not as if he’s unhappy. But satisfied? Does anyone truly feel satisfied, anyway? His friends certainly aren’t— Jake, who can’t land a girl to save his life. Jay, who can’t keep a girl to save his life. And Heeseung? He shudders at the recollection of Heeseung’s ex-situationship breaking into their place and stealing their PS5, along with the myriad of other shit his long list of past partners have done to wreak havoc on him and his roommates.
He’d take boring over that any day.
“Don’t listen to him. He’s just jealous. Everyone wants something real. You’re one of the lucky ones who found it,” Jay’s hand lands on Sunghoon’s shoulder.
“I don’t know about that,” Heeseung’s eyes shift across the room, landing on you, and he nods in your direction, “I’d feel pretty damn unlucky if I were taken, and laid my eyes on her.”
With the slow turn of his head, Sunghoon’s breath catches, eyes travelling the length of your silhouette. You lean against the kitchen counter as Jake hands you a red solo cup, a perfectly manicured fingernail tapping nervously against the plastic. Your other hand tugs at the length of your white-blue floral dress just a bit and shoots up to adjust your white cardigan. He can’t help the way his eyes fixate on your exposed shoulder, where the cardigan seems to keep slipping down. You, doe-eyed and doll-like, stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of male STEM majors that litter the house party. You laugh at something Jake says, noting how he smiles widely. Jake would’ve bragged about someone like you if he could. Which means you’re not his.
“Oh? What’s that, lover boy?” Heeseung teases, “Think you might have a little bit of drool riiight there—”
Sunghoon tears his gaze away from you to shove his roommate’s hand away, ignoring his rather punchable-looking grin.
“Talk to me when your hinge matches stop ghosting you.”
“And his tinder matches. And bumble. And…”
Heeseung and Jay’s bickering falls deaf on Sunghoon’s ears as his eyes drift back in your direction. A pang of guilt hits him when you and Jake turn to look right at him in return. Jake gestures to him, and all too willingly, Sunghoon wades through the party until he’s standing right next to you, taking in the sight of you up close. He tries not to inhale too deeply as your scent, warm and sweet, engulfs him, invading his senses. And rather unfortunately, your voice is even sweeter, his brain short-circuiting as you introduce yourself with an outstretched hand. He stiffens, eyeing your hand with caution before shaking it. He tries not to think too hard about how soft it feels in his own, a flush rushing to his cheeks.
“This is Sunghoon. Also in computer science,” Jake exclaims, throwing an arm around Sunghoon’s shoulder. He’s not drunk yet, but the slight sway in his movements indicates that he’s getting there. “And don’t worry. He’s got a girl, so he won’t try hitting on you or anything.”
Sunghoon carefully chooses not to dwell on why the mention of his girlfriend makes him uneasy.
“You’re in computer science?”
He cringes at the way the words leave his own mouth. He’s only shocked because at least 80% of his lectures are filled with greasy, antisocial guys who moderate Discord servers in their free time. Not girls who look like you.
“Well, I used to be in mechanical engineering. That’s how we met,” you gesture to Jake, “Unfortunately.”
“What the hell?” Jake gapes, “I invite you into my home, and this is how I’m treated?”
“I totally carried you through that group project in our first semester. Remember?” You shook your head, “I did basically all the work. You’re lucky I even wrote your name on the final document.”
“…which I apologized for! Verbally and financially.”
“Wait. First year, first semester?” Sunghoon pauses, “Wasn’t that when you got addicted to ranked league?”
“Dude, I was so close to reaching platinum.”
“Seriously?” You gasp, “Jake, you nearly cost our grade to reach platinum in League of fucking Legends? I should’ve extorted you for way more free Uber Eats orders.”
“What am I, a walking wallet to you?”
“Yeah. Basically.”
“Ouch.”
Against his will, Sunghoon feels himself start to smile, his eyes fixated on the way you laugh, rocking back and forth on your heels ever so slightly. It wasn’t just because of how effortlessly gorgeous you were, either. Whatever energy you had brought in with you that night, it was contagious, a warmth blooming in his chest and spreading through him head to toe like a disease. He hasn’t felt anything like it in a while.
“And here I was, trying to help you find friends in your program who aren’t creeps,” Jake clutches his heart dramatically, “Should’ve just thrown you to the wolves.”
Ah. So that was what it was.
Sunghoon had heard the horror stories from his other female classmates over the years— all the project partners who turned out to be creeps, all the guys who sit just a little bit too close to them in their lectures and shamelessly stare, or the worst of all? The guys who pretend to be their friends just to get in their pants.
For a girl like you, he could see it clearly. It was one thing to be pretty. To be pretty and meek-natured? It’s a socially-awkward, creepy nerd’s wet dream.
“You know, I think I’ve seen you before. Well, the back of your head, at least,” you tilt your head towards Sunghoon, though he notices your eyes struggle to stay on his, always being the first to break eye contact. Your hand toys with the dainty necklace at your collarbone, absentmindedly. “Data Structures and Algorithms. Section C. I sit a few rows behind you.”
“Didn’t know I was being watched.”
“You’re hard to miss,” he raises his brow as you continue, “You come in early, sit right at the front and centre of the class, you open up that giant laptop with the bright RGB lights. Like, literally, I cannot focus on anything else, it’s so distracting.”
“You bring your gaming laptop to your lectures?” Jake deadpans, “and I thought I was the nerdiest one in the friend group.”
“First of all, you are. Second, those are the only kinds of laptops that meet the system requirements for the lab assignments, so—”
“Relax, I have the same one. I just turn off the RGBs,” you smile, your hand brushing his shoulder just a little bit. He flinches instinctively, and you notice, drawing back your hand in embarrassment. Selfishly, he wishes you didn’t, but he shoves that thought deep down, praying it never finds its way back to the surface. You look down at your cup, pitifully, the sight of you evoking an overwhelming ache in his fast-beating heart.
“We should sit together next time,” he clears his throat, offering a tender smile. He readjusts himself as he leans too close. “If you want.”
“For sure!” You beam. “Socials?”
You offer your phone, and he types his username into the Instagram search bar, swallowing dryly at the profile picture of him and his girlfriend. Pushing the ugly feeling to the back of his mind, he hands the phone back to you.
“Aw, two years,” you say, eyes immediately landing on the anniversary post. He shifts his weight where he stands. “Cute.”
Sunghoon scrunches his nose as he pours some awful-looking concoction down the drain, throwing the now-empty cup into the nearest trash bag. Everyone had long since left, and yet here the roommates were, still cleaning up the messes left behind in a tired, empty silence. Well, save for the lovely symphony of Jake’s coughing and hacking as he spills his guts out in the bathroom.
“You good?” Heeseung calls to him through the door, giving it a few knocks, “'cause I kinda need to piss really bad.”
There’s a silent pause and a sniffle before the door swings open, Jake wobbling out. His hair hangs over his eyes.
“Woah, woah, Jakey, take it easy,” he catches his friend, and Jake whines, trying to shove him away.
“I’m okay. Don’t touch.”
“Sure you are.”
Heeseung helps him over to the couch, sinking into the cushions uselessly, staring at the ceiling. Jay stands a few feet away, shaking his head at the sight.
“Such a lightweight, holy shit.”
“Am not…”
Sunghoon sighs, grabbing a glass from the overhead cupboard. And soon, with a full glass of water, he joins the three in the living room, setting it down on the coffee table.
“Drink. Unless you want the worst hangover of your life tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, mom,” he scoffs, picking it up and gulping it down. Sunghoon quickly moves to help him lift the glass to his lips, his friend holding it with the fine-motor skills of an infant.
“Grown man, by the way,” Heeseung mutters, Jay and Sunghoon holding back their snickering. Jake glares at him. “Guess I shouldn’t make fun of you too much, though. Since you did bring that pretty little thing into our apartment.”
When all the water is successfully gulped down, Sunghoon moves to place it back on the nearest surface. Jake takes in a deep breath, then he blinks once. Twice.
“Sorry, what?”
“Uh, earth to Jake?” He waves a hand in front of his face, “I’m asking about her. You know who I mean.”
“Ohhhhh, right,” he draws out his words, a smile creeping up on his face. He bites his lip and nods his head, as if he’s replaying the memory of you in his mind, “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”
“Cool?” Heeseung’s eyes go wide. In seconds, his hands are at Jake’s shoulders, shaking sense into him, “Jake. My guy. That’s the hottest woman that’s ever willingly spoken to you.”
“Dude, stop, he’s gonna throw up everywhere,” Jay tears Heeseung’s grasp from Jake, whose head slumps back the instant he’s let go. His hand moves to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.
“Yeah, yeah, but she clearly has noooo interest in me, so I don’t even bother,” he waves his hand dismissively, “We’re just friends.”
“Just friends,” Jay echoes in air quotes, snorting to himself.
“There’s no such thing as being just friends with a girl who looks like that,” Heeseung adds.
“No, really,” Jake replies, sounding maybe a fraction more conscious, though his words still drag, “Like, yeah, obviously I’d fuck her if she asked. But like, once the butterflies fade and you get used to her hotness, you start to realize she’s just like… normal. You know?”
“So she’s a friend that you would fuck.” He says flatly, “That’s not called being friends. That’s called being friend-zoned.”
“This is Jake we’re talking about. He’ll fuck anything with a pulse if it gave him a chance,” Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “For everyone else, it’s normal to be friends with girls, even if you find them attractive. Your brain’s just rotted from all the porn you jerk off to.”
“You’re such a fake, you know that?” Heeseung retorts, taking a moment to scoff at him, “Acting like you weren’t eye-fucking her all night. Sounds like someone’s coping.”
“Sounds like you only know how to think with your dick,” Sunghoon hisses, his blood pressure rising.
Heeseung pauses, taking him in, and how worked up he is over his off-handed comments. He can practically see the steam coming out of Sunghoon’s ears.
“Alright, Mr. Good guy,” he chuckles, “Whatever makes you feel better about yourself.”
Sunghoon takes a breath before leaving, making his way back to the kitchen.
“Have fun tucking Jake into bed or some shit. I’m not dealing with this.”
“Oh, you know I will.”
“Hey, don’t leave me alone with him!” Jake’s voice cracks watching Sunghoon walk off. He watches in horror as Jay walks away, too, continuing his garbage pickup. Heeseung tries to lift him up, and he yelps, sliding off the couch as he crawls away helplessly, leaving the elder boy to laugh his ass off on the couch, alone.
Three times a week.
Sunghoon sees you three times a week, twice for lectures, once for labs. And in only the first week of sitting next to you, he already has every little habit of yours mentally noted down. He swears he isn’t doing it on purpose— it’s not like he’s trying to keep tabs on you. It’s just that every little thing about you is so hard to miss.
Almost subconsciously, his eyes seem to wander from the board to you, noticing how you rest your chin in your hand, how you get antsy towards the end of class from sitting in one place for too long, how your elbow seems to drift in his direction as you write in your small notebook, occasionally brushing his arm on accident. He notices and appreciates how, in a room of sweatpants and hoodies, you always wore your pretty skirts and soft cardigans, with ribbons in your hair, and dainty necklaces adorning your collarbone. Everything about you is new, uncharted territory, and the desire to learn more is unrelenting, as well as deeply unacceptable according to his own moral code of conduct.
Of course, it doesn’t come without guilt; There’s the guilt for being so curious about a girl who isn’t his own, and then there’s the guilt he feels, given that he’s supposed to be your guy-friend, not another lustful loser trying to bother you. Though his shame, while constant, is nothing more than a low hum, not quite loud enough to call attention to… yet.
It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong, after all. Thoughts and desires aren’t actions. They’re just a normal, human reaction, and you don’t exactly make it easy for him, either. Really, what else is he supposed to do when you’re laughing just a little too hard at his terrible jokes? When he swears, he sees your eyes linger just a little too long on his body as he leans back to stretch, mid-lecture? And how you always seem to lose your train of thought as he leans in just a little closer, stumbling over your words? He could just be imagining it, but it makes him wonder.
So, maybe he starts telling more jokes, just to hear a little more of your laughter. And maybe he starts wearing shirts that are a little bit tighter, just to see if you’d rake your eyes across his body like he suspects you’d do (and as it turns out, you do). And maybe he enjoys invading your personal space just a little bit, if only to feel that certain rush he hasn’t felt in ages. If only to quell his stubborn curiosity, to enjoy the small moments of your attention, and to bask in the wonders it does for his ego.
There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with making these long, tedious lectures just a little more interesting. Anyone would do the same in his shoes. If not, worse. What he’s doing is completely harmless. After all, he knows himself. He knows he would never cross that line.
Yet, when he walks early into class that day, as his gaze shifts to his usual spot, he notices some other guy who had taken his place, who is leaning way too close to you than you appear to be comfortable with. And, from the way his jaw clenches and his fists curl at his sides, Sunghoon feels it is too close for his comfort, as well.
“See, your code is technically correct, but it’s not optimal,” his voice is grating to Sunghoon’s ears, watching him point to your laptop screen, “it’s fine to use multiple recursion for this example, but if your algorithm were to use much higher values, the runtime would skyrocket.”
“Thanks, but—”
“I could tutor you, if you want,” he hasn’t listened to a word you’re trying to say, eyes dragging down the length of you, shamelessly. You scoot further away until you’re practically on the edge of your seat. "You could pay me with cash. But I also accept other kinds of favours—"
“Hey,” Sunghoon’s voice is low, teetering on the edge of his self-control as he slams your laptop shut onto the guy’s hand. He keeps his palm there, applying just enough pressure to make sure the pain lasts. He leans over him, his tall frame casting a dark shadow over the irrelevant, pathetic loser. “Nobody asked.”
As soon as Sunghoon lets go, the guy cusses him out, scrambling from his seat immediately. Then, turning to you, he watches you breathe a sigh of relief. Sinking into the seat next to you, he can’t help but glare at the asshole across the room. Who does he think he is? All your other admirers had been silently resigned to watching you from afar, as they saw how you clung to Sunghoon’s side. Especially the first week you had been sitting together, he’d gotten a good few laughs out of feeling their jealous glares, shooting daggers at the back of his head. But this guy? Is he stupid? Has he failed to notice that you’re always with him?
Suddenly, the thought of all the other men who must be looking at you in your other classes crosses his mind. Do you sit alone in those lectures? Or, do you have other “guy friends” who get to talk to you like this? Sunghoon pauses before he can get ahead of himself, taking several mental steps back, because why the fuck does he feel like crawling out of his own skin? Why is this uneasy feeling so aching, so all-consuming?
“Are you okay?”
“You’re asking me?” He allows his expression to soften, if only for your sake, but his tone does not, venom dripping from every seething word, “Guys like him just piss me off. That’s all.”
The professor starts the class moments soon after, and Sunghoon lets his gaze drift forward, in search of anything to ease the whirlwind of emotions that rumbled beneath the surface of him, barely contained. Distracted, he doesn’t process that you’re leaning towards him, only snapping out of his trance the second he feels the warmth of your breath tickling his ear.
“Then I’m lucky to have a good guy like you around to look out for me.” You whisper, a shiver running up his spine. He swallows, and when he looks at you, taking in your wide-eyed gaze and how you look up at him through your lashes with pure, unfiltered, undeserved gratitude, he knows he's done for. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”
Maybe it’s the way you whispered his name in his ear. Or maybe it’s the way you looked so fucking appreciative when you really didn’t need to be. But whatever had been clouding his mind only seconds ago clears in an instant, replaced with that newly familiar rush that only you seem to awaken in him.
It’s ridiculously unfair how easily you could have him crumbling, falling apart at the seams, only to rebuild him seconds later. It’s ridiculously addictive how good it feels to have your full attention on him, as if he hadn’t been stewing in his own shameful, confusing misery only moments prior. Whatever it is you’re doing to him? It’s exhilarating. It’s dangerous. It’s wrong.
And yet…
He’s hard. Embarrassingly hard, as if he’s a fucking teenager again. He carefully crosses his legs, thanking his past self for choosing to wear jeans instead of sweatpants, and though he’s able to calm himself down in time to leave class undetected, it all comes back to him the moment he’s kicking off his shoes at his front door.
It takes everything in him not to jerk himself to the thought of you. Instead, opting for a cold shower, as if soap could scrub away the absolute filth that is his thoughts. Bracing himself against the tiled walls of the bathroom, under running water, he closes his eyes and thinks of his girlfriend— his kind, unsuspecting girlfriend. He’s supposed to be a good boyfriend. The kind of man a girl can brag about to their friends, who they can take home to their mother without shame. But these days, he feels anything but good.
Though the guilt passes too quickly, morphing into something else entirely when he recalls the events from earlier. You, talking to some other guy. You, whispering in his ear. You, looking so tempting, so forbidden, so infuriating. And just like that, you’re doing it to him again; making him writhe in an agony he didn’t know he could feel, torturing him without even needing to be in the same vicinity. You make him lose his grip. It only makes him want to reach for you even more.
To ♡ : I’m taking you out tomorrow
To ♡ : Wear something nice
Stability. Predictability. Assurance.
That’s what Sunghoon decides he needs. He hasn’t had a restful night in ages, between the stress of keeping up with school and the mind fuckery, that is, you. So he booked the nicest restaurant he could afford on his broke college student budget, brushed off the nice suit that collected dust in Jake’s closet (courtesy of his stupidly rich parents, who would probably collapse if they found out that their son lounges in dirty sweatpants all day), and picks up his girlfriend who greets him with that same old chaste kiss to his cheek.
He does everything right. He holds every door open for her. He asks about her week. He smiles, unwavering, even as she tells the same stories he’s heard over and over again, and he profusely apologizes when his phone starts blowing up with notifications mid-meal, trying not to let his determination shake when he notices your Instagram handle in the notification window. It must be that time of day, he thinks, when the sun goes down, and you curl up for your usual evening scrolling session. He turns it on silent, tucking it away into his pocket.
“Busy these days?” She asks.
“This semester is… frustrating. I’d rather not think about it,” he sighs. Then, he reaches across the table, taking her hands into his, “It doesn’t matter. Keep talking. I want to hear you.”
She giggles, fingers interlocking with his, “What did I do to deserve you?”
He tries. He tries so hard to care about whatever it is she’s talking about, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Because truthfully, he doesn’t feel anything.
He drives her home later, and though she kisses him and drags her hand down his chest with the hint of offering something more, he pulls away. He gives some excuse, talking of an early morning tomorrow, and kisses her one last goodbye with the same politeness and appropriateness she’d greeted him with.
Selfishly, his mind drifts to you as he drives home, wondering how you would’ve acted had he taken you on the same kind of date. You probably would’ve thanked him profusely, eyes shining with delight when he tells you that you can order anything you like— always so easily impressed by any small act of kindness. You’d probably get flustered when he kisses you at the end of the night, but kiss him back with fervour, so eager to show him your appreciation that you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself. You’d probably drop to your knees, wouldn’t you? You seem like the type. He pulls into his parking spot, snapping back to reality.
He groans, a hand moving to his face.
What the fuck.
It’s surprisingly loud when he walks through the front door, his roommates' laughter wafting down the halls. But he’s even more surprised to hear the sound of a certain familiar laugh, one that is unmistakably yours. And for a moment, he thinks he’s hallucinating, taking slow steps down the hall as he loosens the tie at his neck. But when he rounds the corner, he sees you there, sitting on his living room couch with a Nintendo Switch controller in hand.
“Why the fuck do we always pick the map with Rainbow Road?” Heeseung groans, his character falling off the map for what Sunghoon can only assume is the umpteenth time.
“Just get good,” Jake proudly raises his beer to yours, the two of you taking a celebratory sip as you both sit comfortably in first and second place. The creak of the floorboards behind him makes his head turn. “Hey, there he is! Thought you were— what the fuck, is that my suit?”
“Stole it from your closet earlier,” he states plainly, ignoring Jake’s annoyed expression. Sunghoon glances uncomfortably at where you sit, sandwiched between Jake and Heeseung on the couch. “What is this?”
“Mario Kart,” you shrug, “Was kinda bored and Jake said they could use a fourth player since you were out. But hey, now that you’re here, you should join!”
Right. You were Jake’s friend first. He has a habit of forgetting that, given how much time he spends with you alone. He glares down the way Jake’s arm is casually slung over the back of the couch, where you sit, just behind your head. And then there was Heeseung, who manspreads so wide that his entire leg is pressed against yours. He inhales sharply, suddenly hit with the overwhelming urge to grab you by the arm and drag you far, far away from his friends.
“Weren’t you on a date?” Jay asks, narrowing his eyes, “thought you’d be out all night.”
“Shit. Did all that just to get blue-balled, huh?” Heeseung snickers, looking him up and down. But his grin grows even wider when he notices the look on his roommate's face, and how his fists clench at his side, gaze unrelenting. And, more interestingly, how Sunghoon can’t tear his eyes from you. “Oh. I get it.”
A silence falls upon them, save for the end-of-match music from the game playing on loop in the background.
“…get what??” You ask so cluelessly, glancing between them. You nudge Jake, and he stammers, clearing his throat.
“Uh. It’s uh…”
“It’s guy stuff, baby, you wouldn’t understand,” Heeseung leans in just a little too close as he says it, looking to Sunghoon to make sure he’s watching. He brings his hand to your chin, raising it slightly with his fingertips. “Wouldn’t wanna worry your pretty little head with any of that, hm?”
Sunghoon goes cold seeing how your breath hitches, nodding your head like an obedient little dog. He hates the way his pulse quickens, heart thumping loudly in his ears. He hates, hates, hates this feeling so fucking much. He hates how it makes him want you more. He moves to the couch, shoving Jake out of the way, so that he can sit next to you instead.
“There’s nothing to get. Don’t listen to him.” He flashes you a smile, but the warmth of your side pressing into him is only a fleeting comfort. He turns to Jake, eyes landing on his remote before snatching it, “Give me this. And go get me a beer.”
“Are you deadass?” Jake blinks at him.
“I’m almost done mine, I could go—” you start.
“I’ll get it for you,” Jake rises to his feet in an instant, flashing you a ‘look how useful and helpful I am’ smile. He side eyes Sunghoon. “And you, I guess.”
He steps away, and the four of you shift in awkward silence as Sunghoon and Heeseung stare each other down.
“So, uh,” Jay clears his throat, turning to you with a gentle smile, tired of watching the unspoken dick comparison contest between his two roommates. “You said you guys take a class together, right?”
“Yeah. And thank god we do, 'cause I would be totally lost if we didn’t,” you laugh nervously, looking to Sunghoon almost adoringly, “he’s a way better student than I am.”
Your hand brushes his shoulder, and he melts.
“She’s just saying that.”
Without a second thought, he nudges you in return, every shy touch he shares with you feeling like the most monumental moment of his life. Like he couldn’t possibly get any higher. He wishes he could bottle the feeling up, keep it in his pocket forever. But like always, it is ripped from him in an instant, as his roommate reopens his loud, obnoxious mouth.
“Nah. You’ve always been a real good student,” Heeseung leans back, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, “Always listening. Always doing your work on time. Always following the rules.”
Sunghoon frowns.
“You must’ve been a real goody two-shoes in high school, huh?” You tease him, a smirk tugging at your lips.
“Oh yeah,” Heeseung continues, “I remember, we always had these stupid weekly quizzes in our History class. And even though the teacher would practically be asleep, he would always cover his answers so that I couldn’t cheat off him. I always thought it was cruel, ya know? Considering we were friends and all.”
“I don’t like to share,” Sunghoon snaps, “especially not with someone who didn’t put in the work.”
Heeseung ignores his retort.
“But you know what the funny thing is? You would cheat off of Jake in Physics.” He laughs, dryly, and Sunghoon most certainly does not find anything about his tone humorous as he sits there, biting his tongue. When he’s had his final laugh, he sighs, turning to him in a low voice, “You know what that makes you, right? A hypocrite.”
Neither of them moves. Jay definitely doesn’t dare to move, tired of playing mediator. And you just sit there. Jake’s return cuts through the tension like a knife.
“You guys not gonna play another game?” He asks, throwing a beer can carelessly in Sunghoon’s lap while placing the other gently in front of you on the coffee table.
“We definitely should,” Jay’s shoulders slump with relief.
Time ticks by, and one beer turns into two, three, six… until eventually, Sunghoon is barely able to hold the remote in his hand, and the room is spinning. But no matter how many drinks he took down, that ugly, despicably possessive feeling wouldn’t leave.
You’re not his. You don’t belong to him. But seeing Heeseung nudge your shoulder, touch your arm, look you up and down like you’re his next meal, then look back at him with a wolfish grin made him want to tear him apart limb from limb. He’s the embodiment of everything he despises; a careless, lazy, college dropout and unemployed asshole with zero shame. He’s disgusting, inside and out, and embraces his filthiness instead of hiding it like everyone else does— like everyone else is supposed to do. He doesn’t deserve to be rewarded. He doesn’t deserve a prize like you when he’s done nothing to earn it.
And then there’s you. With each drink you finish, you return Heeseung’s touch, brushing his shoulder when you laugh. Hell, even placing a hand on his knee, making his stupid grin grow even wider. And Sunghoon just has to sit there and take it, pretending like it’s fine. Because it should be fine. It’s not his business, and if your standards are that low, then so be it.
But when you beat Heeseung yet again, and he’s stealing your remote, holding it above his head,Sunghoon watches in horror as you squeal, reaching up for it, and climbing to your knees. You decide to straddle Heeseung in his lap as you reach further, using a hand at his shoulder to steady yourself, and it makes him sick.
Sunghoon’s head is spinning, and his stomach… his stomach aches. He can barely breathe or form any kind of thought that isn’t murderous. He stands up, stumbling only a little bit, because if he watches whatever the hell the two of you are doing for any longer, he’s not sure he can restrain himself from strangling his roommate any longer.
“You good?” Jake asks, watching his remote control fall to the ground. It hits the carpet with a soft thud.
Sunghoon locks eyes with the bathroom and bolts for it.
The world spins around him as he dry-heaves into the toilet, knees on the bathroom floor. He’d spilled his guts already, but is far too exhausted to will himself to stand. He barely even registers that the bathroom door clicks behind him, eyes shifting upward to find you above him. The overhead light frames you in a golden glow, like a halo around your gentle silhouette, and for a second, he wonders if he’s dreaming when your hand reaches to push his hair from his forehead.
“Jeez, Hoon, you’re burning up.” Your words are slightly slurred, eyes a little unfocused, like his own. Everyone has had too much to drink tonight.
Your lips are still moving, but he’s too distracted by them to process what you’re even saying. Then, you’re lifting a glass of water to his mouth, and he drinks it loudly, unceremoniously, your finger tips lifting the tip of his chin. He, rather ungracefully, moans as it washes away the traces of acidic aftertaste in his mouth, soothing the throbbing in his head. Soon enough, the image of you is clearer. He mourns the loss of your touch as you set the cup aside, and he brings his wrist to wipe his chin with his sleeve.
“Don’t fuck Heeseung,” his words slip out in a deeply drunken, deeply desperate voice. He doesn’t care how pathetic he looks, eyes half lidded, face flushed, kneeling before you like you’re the altar he worships. Though he doesn’t pray. He selfishly demands, even if his tone resembles something of a plea. “He’s a fuckin’ asshole. He’ll treat you like shit. I’m telling you he’s…”
A sharp, throbbing pain shoots through his head, and his words trail off. Face falling forward, his forehead lands flat against your thigh, unable to support his own weight. He’s exhausted, mentally and physically, panting, and his hands reach to dig into your skirt for support. Though the fog is starting to clear up now that he’s evicted most of the alcohol from his system, he thinks— no, he knows he’s drunk on something else. Your closeness is a drug. Your touch intoxicates him.
He hears you laugh. God, how he loves that laugh.
“You’re telling me what to do?”
“Yeah,” he swallows, “so don’t do it.”
“Why?”
“'Cause I said so.”
“Hm, and why should I listen to you?” Your fingers are threading through his hair, and a careless, guttural groan is escaping him as you tug his head back to meet your gaze.
“'Cause you’re mine.”
Your eyes go wide, conflicted, but you don’t push away. Your hand still runs through his hair in a gentle, soothing manner. You try to laugh it off nervously.
“We’re just friends, Hoon. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Friends,” he scoffs, “How could I ever be friends with you?”
His eyes flicker from yours, then to your bare thighs, just millimetres away from his face. He’s so close, the warmth of his breath is tickling your exposed skin, and whatever remaining shred of morality he thought he could cling to is thrown out the window as he leans forward. He brings his hands to caress the back of them and presses a few kisses into your soft skin, a prideful feeling spreading through him when you let out a breathless whimper. He looks up your skirt and notices the wet patch on your white, lace panties. He smiles at that, adoring how your fingers curl into his hair a little more harshly.
“Don’t fight it. Know you want it too.”
“Sunghoon, this is wrong.”
He ignores you, his tongue darting out to suck at the skin of your inner thighs, fully intending to leave his mark.
“Love the way you say my name, baby,” His breath hovers above your clothed clit, his nose nuzzling just above the waistband of your underwear. “Say it again for me.”
He tastes you through your underwear, hands at your hips, gripping into your skin as you whimper. He can practically feel you twitching on his tongue, though he’s barely started, tasting your arousal, which has long since soaked through your underwear. You taste like heaven, and it’s probably the closest he’ll ever get to it, now that he’s certainly going to hell.
“Hoon…”
“Gonna have to be a little louder than that if you want me to give you what you want, pretty.”
He tugs the useless piece of fabric down enough to allow him to lick a stripe up your clothed cunt and you cry out, already twitching with need.
“Fuck, Sunghoon—!”
“That’s it. Don’t hold back,” he growls, “Let them know how badly you need me.”
He kisses your soaked cunt before sucking hard, grinning at the sound of his name on your lips like a broken record. He fucking hopes Heeseung can hear his name coming out of your breathy, pleading voice— hopes he learns not to play with other people’s toys. He hopes Jake feels pathetic knowing you chose the one guy in the friend group who already has a girl, instead of him, who's been begging for a crumb of pussy from you since your first year. There’s nothing to feel guilty for anymore. Not when your legs are shaking like this for him as he laps you up and sucks on your clit, your essence dripping down his chin.
His dick twitches in his pants when you tug at his hair even harder, your cries sinful as you finish embarrassingly fast on his tongue. He drinks up every drop, even as you try to push his face away, loving how you writhe uselessly in his half-drunken grasp. He finally pulls away, bright-eyed as he watches you catch your breath. He muses at your expression; half ashamed, half lustful.
“Don’t tell me you feel guilty, now,” he rises to his feet, caging you in against the sink. He doesn’t kiss you yet, preferring to drink in the sight of you first, now that he finally has you. “You wanted this. Gave me all this attention all semester. I’m not stupid.”
His knee slips between your legs, and he presses into you until your soaked, throbbing cunt is pressed right against his thigh. You whimper, your hands fiddling with the end of his tie as you rock against him.
“Opening your legs so easily. If you really thought this was wrong, you’d push me away,” he whispers in your ear, before dragging his lips down to your neck, “You’re just an easy little slut.”
“I’m not a—”
“Baby, you’re dripping,” he chuckles, looking down at the wet patch on his pants. He hikes your skirt higher on your hips to get a better view, “Probably dreamed of me fucking you stupid, as my little side piece.”
His eyes move down to your chest, heaving in that tight little tank top you wore. He palms your breast through the fabric, kneading the flesh before slipping under to pinch your hardened nipples. But his gaze darkens when he pushes the fabric down, revealing the white, lacy bra beneath it.
“What’s this?” His hand gropes your chest through your bra, his thumb swiping over your hardened nipples through the material. “Were you planning on getting fucked tonight?”
You don’t get the chance to answer because he’s flipping you around, bent over the sink as he drags your matching panties down, tossing them over his shoulder carelessly. He slides two fingers inside you, holding your wrists down against your back, and you gasp as he fills you deep, pace unforgiving, not bothering to even pretend to be gentle. The way you tense around him, choking on your own gasps in shock, only feeds his depraved desires even more.
“By who? Heeseung?” He seethes, then pauses for a second, laughing, “Or were you gonna let Jake hit it for once? Fucking slut.”
“For you,” you manage to choke out, “Not that I thought we would, but… just…”
The words leave your mouth pathetically, and you can feel your face burn with embarrassment. You had done your best to keep your crush on him at bay. But, there was always a small part of you that couldn’t help but wonder. You rationalized it by saying it was something every girl did— it’s like shaving your whole body before seeing an attractive artist’s concert, imagining what it would be like to get noticed in the crowd. Or wearing your prettiest outfit for that one class with the hot married professor. You didn’t wear a matching set because you thought this would actually happen; you did it to entertain your twisted little fantasy of getting with your off-limits campus crush.
Your confession makes him pause entirely, his fingers leaving you hollow.
“For me?” His voice is slow, smooth, “You wanted to look all pretty for me?”
You nod, timidly.
You wanted to act like you felt bad. Wanted to pretend like it was wrong. And yet, he caught you red-handed. Some part of you, deep down, wanted this to happen. You can’t run from the truth now. And when he turns you to face him, you’re not sure what you expect, but you definitely weren’t expecting to be kissed slowly, tenderly, and yet at the same time, so cruelly.
“You wanna be mine?” He mutters against your lips.
“Please,” you breathe out. He hums approvingly.
His hunger only grows from the taste of you. He slips your breasts from their pretty lace confines and latches his mouth on them, licking and sucking them, using his teeth, and continues upward. He kisses up your collarbone and your neck, mercilessly, until you’re littered with marks. And when he’s satisfied, he pulls back, admiring his work, thumb sliding across your skin in gentle circles.
“If you wanna be my pretty little slut,” you feel his hands snake behind you, and his tie wrap around your wrists, “then you’re gonna have to start acting like one.”
He shoves you to your knees, and you stumble a little, struggling to regain your balance, given your hands were tied. Your knees burn where you’re certain you’ll have nasty bruises tomorrow, and you watch as he lifts your chin, “Well?”
Your eyes land on the bulge in his pants. Obediently, you nuzzle your nose at his clothes crotch, looking up at him in a lustful haze. He’s painfully hard, throbbing with need, and he tries not to show how the sight of you like this is making him crumble.
“Please, Hoon. Wanna taste you.”
He undoes his belt and lets his pants fall to the floor, cooing as you immediately move to mouth him through boxers, desperate to please him like the whore you pretend you aren’t. It’s amusing, really, and while he adores the sight of you drooling on him, soaking the fabric of his underwear, he’d much rather feel your mouth on him without anything in the way.
He pulls them down and laughs, watching it slap your cheek, standing tall, thick, and in desperate need of being touched. Your fascinated expression and the way you lick your lips tells him you’ve never taken someone of his size, and he loves that. He guides the tip to your lips, and your tongue reaches out, tasting his precum on your tongue, spreading it around as you then take the tip of him.
“Shit,” he groans, “You drive me fucking insane. You know that? Haven’t had a moment of peace since I met you.”
But it’s worth it, he thinks, as he slides past your lips, hands in your hair, pushing you down his length. And though he can’t wait to fuck your face, he can’t help but take his time first, sinking into your mouth, admiring just how good you look being fed his cock.
“It’s like you were made for this,” a smile toys at his lips, thinking of all the times he’d woken up with sticky sheets from a dream just like this. “You like being on your knees for me?”
He glances down at how you rub your thighs together, and how your wrists struggle against its restraints with desire to touch yourself. His girl hated doing this for him. But you? You’re moaning as he hits the back of your throat, taking it like a champion. He could cum from the sight alone if he weren’t trying to savour every second of your mouth around him.
He sinks his fingers into your scalp, pulling himself out before fucking right back into your mouth again, your throat constricting around him as you choke on his thick cock. There are tears stinging your eyes, and your mascara and lip gloss are smudged, and yet you’ve never looked more beautiful to him than you do right now.
“Sorry, pretty, but I have to be a little rough on you. Gotta teach you a lesson, you know?” He’s panting now, his groans falling effortlessly from his lips, “That’s what happens when you rile me up. When you flirt with my friends just to get my attention.”
He reaches from your hair to cup your cheeks, a thumb swiping at a single tear that falls and he sighs. And then, he cracks a twisted smile.
“They’ll never get to see you like this. Now that you belong to me.”
He finally slows, sliding from your mouth and coos at your exasperated breaths, eyes locking on your marked chest as it heaves up and down. He presses his tip to your swollen lips again, but this time keeps his cock in his hand, fist sliding up and down to the mere sight of you.
“Gonna cum all over your pretty face.” You hum around him in approval, “You like that? So fucking messy.”
He cusses finally, pulling himself out of your mouth to paint you with his spend, shooting ropes over your face, your chest, watching it stain your little tank top, which still hung onto you uselessly, though your breasts were on full display. You blink a few times, mouth agape, because never in your life had you seen this much cum come out of anyone. He stares at you, a gorgeous, pathetic mess, in complete pride, admiring his work. How beautiful it was to have you on your knees for him, completely ruined and marked up, covered in his cum. He wished he had his phone to capture it.
“All mine now,” he reaches out, spreading the cum at your lips, gathering it on his fingers before slipping them into your mouth. You moan around his fingers.
He hoists you to the sink and throws your panties somewhere across the room, while he pushes up your skirt, revealing your wet, needy pussy. You’re practically weeping when he finally touches you because you’re aching for release. And, to your surprise, he kisses you, open-mouthed, desperately, tasting himself on your lips, not giving a single shit about how it gets on his face or in his hair. You feel his fingers prod you, entering your cunt with little resistance.
“Want you,” you manage to say, despite his unyielding, feverish kisses. “Want more.”
“That’s not how you ask,” he teases, his fingers reaching that spot inside you that makes your toes curl, “try again.”
“Please fuck me.”
All he does is laugh.
“You’re real sweet when you beg, but…” he adds a third finger, and your eyes flutter shut, “You’ll take what I give you.”
His other hand grips your neck as he fucks his fingers into you, relishing every cry that leaves your lips. And he takes his sweet damn time, waiting until you’re at the brink of finishing to pull his fingers out of you. And though you open your mouth to whine, you’re quickly shut up when you feel the head of his cock pressing against you, sliding along your needy cunt. Behind you, you can feel his hands undo the tie at your wrists, freeing them from their confines. And now that you could touch him, your hands move instantly, purring with delight at the feeling of his broad, muscular shoulders beneath them. His tip catches at your entrance.
“Don’t have a condom. You care?” he sputters out, as if he isn’t already sheathing the tip of himself inside you, cursing at the feel of your tight, wet walls.
“Just— don’t cum inside.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he growls. At least not yet. He’d fill you with his cum another day.
He pushes your skirt up further to watch himself enter you, lifting either leg to the side, and your fingernails sink into the white button-up that still hangs from his shoulders. And, at the realization, you decide to start unbuttoning it, practically salivating at the sight of his body.
“Fuck,” he hisses, your pussy wrapped around him so tightly, “Could do this every fucking day.”
He buries to the hilt, leaving you barely a second to adjust before he takes another deep thrust. He’s so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him in your guts, splitting you on his cock. And you love it. You love the way he stretches you, the way he takes and takes from you so unfairly.
“Bet you’d like that. Letting me use you whenever I want. Wouldn’t you?” He picks up the pace, and you can feel every inch of him inside you, every vein and curve making your head spin. He grasps your chin, forcing you to face him. “I asked you a question, pretty girl.”
Dazed, you nod fervently, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.
“Wanna be used by you. Just wanna be fucked like I’m yours.”
“Already said you’re all mine now, remember?” he groans when he feels you clench around him, looking down again just to watch your tight little hole be ruined by him, “My dirty little slut. All mine to ruin. This one time won’t be enough. I need to have you again, and again. Fuck—”
He shakes his head at himself, almost laughing, to think he tried to deny himself of this. Of you, spread open for him, moaning his name loud enough for the whole damn building to hear. He can feel your walls start to tense, your breath catching, and when he feels you fucking claw at his back, shaking around him, he knows you’re about to finish.
“Gonna—”
“That’s it,” he purrs, “Cum on my cock.”
You cry out his name, your pussy gushing around him, squeezing him like a vice. Your vision goes blurry, and your body shakes all over. And soon, his hips are stuttering.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
Cursing, he pulls out, jerking the rest of himself until he’s cumming all over you again. He’s everywhere. All over your glistening pussy, your skirt, your thighs, the sink, probably the floor, too. It’s disgusting, and yet, so beautiful.
With a relieved smile, he practically collapses on top of you, his face buried into your chest as his arms wrap around your waist. And for a while, he just breathes, the thought of knowing that he is now covered in his own jizz shoved momentarily to the back of his mind. Because now, as he lies in his own filth with you, he can say with certainty that he finally feels completely satisfied.
JUNGWON X SLIGHTLY OLDER! READER! mdni. reader's an 02 and in denial lol, won is tryna prove a point. overstimmulation, fingering, munching, groping, slapping, spitting, a lil more than kissing :0, reader is called noona. crying, fucking, pettywon, smugwon. short. not proofread yet again
the party wasn't even fun. especially when you couldn't get him out of your mind.
you peeked at him, once- maybe few- times. him driving with one hand, jaw tense, music low. him never bringing up things that don't need bringing up, him pouring your drink, him never asking for a thank you, just.. existing, beside you. then at the party you're bored, over it. the jokes are too loud, the stares are too obvious, were men always this fucking stupid? they didn't even noticed when you frowned or declined their intiative. but then there's wonie, staring from the corner, taking a shot in your name. and when he told your situationship to back off a bit? it was grounded, deep- different.
you magnetically walk in his way, and he puts a palm to your head. "noona, you're burning up."
sweat beads against your core as you continue to loll your head back against the truck's sticky leather. the windows reflect the heat of your moans, hair clinging to your neck in the summer heat, hands locked together- fastened by a set of arms that also seem to push your plush tits together.
you're shaking. lips glossy, brows furrowed, thighs trembling around his wrist that cages you in. jungwon's voice had dropped, but you noticed way before now. "am i," he kisses your breast through your ripped out clothes. "tell me am i too young to have you whimpering like this?"
"won please- let me cum-" you whisper, and his fingers splay out of your pussy as he slaps it. "no." and he means it, "not unless you take me as your boyfriend. i won't."
"won-- fuck, i can't- i -" your eyes are stinging from each finger plunging and curling inside of you, his hard cocking still in his briefs rutting the stained panties hanging onto your thighs- and all you could do was beg.
"so fuckin' composed, huh?" jungwon slaps your thighs, growling against your heat. "'s'that what you think of me? hm?" slap. "is that what you think of yourself too? noona?"
this time, jungwon looks into your eyes as his hands work up to hastily spread your legs apart, wrapping your ankle in a seatbelt. "tell me again," jungwon sloppily groans in your ear. "tell me i'm too young for you while you're creaming on this cock." he shoves his girth into you without hesitation, watching the corner of your lips twitch up in a smile, watching you bite the inside of your cheek- a gesture he knows all too well to know you're enjoying it. you fucking love it.
"wonie!" you cry, and he shudders at his nickname. he watches the tears spill from the corner of your eyes. "i thought you could take it," he cooes, "big girls don't cry, right noona?" he chuckles, fucking you deeper, twitching his cock on purpose just to see you buckle and whimper. "big girls can handle big cocks, right noona?" he gropes your waist and presses it flushed against his crotch, stretching you as your fingers tear at the leather. "won.. i-" you sob, brows curling at the pleasure. he smirks, rolling and snapping his hips tighter, rhythm pacing faster. "if you keep crying like that, i'll stuff your mouth with my cum too."
your moans multiply and for a split second, you smile. you fucking smile, breaking the fact that you hate to see this. "admit it." he spits on your tits, "no man has ever fucked you like i do." "no!" you cry, "admit it," he spanks you, unwrapping you from the car seat's binds and fucking you from behind. "every time you called me just your best friend, was it before or after you fingered yourself to my name?"
you're quivering, shaking under his thrusts, "won please, i wanna cum-" "you wanna cum?" he slaps your cheek after mandhandling you. "block every stupid cunt on your phone and be mine, noona." "yes! i'll do it, i'm yours, wonie! i'm yours," you let out a glutteral moan, "im so fucking yours."
and he lets out a noise so deep into your neck you cum without even warning him. he cums straight after too, manhandling you back to you on his lap as he pumps out the last few bits of his seed far into you, just how you like it. he watches the seats get watered with your slick and cum, while the party in the house continues to boom, bringing your senses back.
"go back in there and tell that fucker who made you cum, okay baby?"
When Park Sunghoon wants something, he gets it no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands, but he has absolutely no morals.
| pairing. designer!sunghoon x fem!reader
| warnings. dark!sunghoon (he's not a good person lol), implied legal age gap, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, mention of gain weight, manipulation, corruption, violent sexual thoughts, unprotected sex, anal play, dacryphilia, aftercare because yes sunghoon's a sadist but he still has a heart.
| wc. 7.5k
| a.n.: repost from an old blog. pls forgive me for how lengthy the smut is (or thank me)!!
His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place where he can spend hours without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio, it feels like time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.
When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, or the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's working on.
He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.
He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of that dress. At some point, it was consuming his entire mind, the only thing he could draw and think of.
Now that he's finally making it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever created. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Sunghoon is. It's going to be the design of the year—of the century.
He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of it all. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.
It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.
Sunghoon still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.
All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Sunghoon when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.
Until today.
He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking.
"Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims and Sunghoon immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Soobin. "I have someone to introduce you."
Sunghoon raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Soobin who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he never really cares about the many girls Soobin brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.
When Sunghoon turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Soobin's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs—the one he wants and has to ruin.
Soobin introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.
You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.
"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Soobin raises his eyebrows in Sunghoon's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.
"Thanks," you smile back at Soobin before glancing at Sunghoon who still hasn't looked away from you. "I'm a big fan of your work, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."
The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt as you cry his name invading his mind.
He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, so eager to break but also repair them.
He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.
"I'm glad to hear that," Sunghoon says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile—stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it shallow. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him, so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex.
"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Soobin begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you."
You chuckle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Sunghoon as if waiting for some praises.
Sunghoon faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you sooner. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, his to kiss and fuck. His to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.
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"Careful," Sunghoon softly says as he catches you up before you can fall to the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.
"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost stumble. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.
Sunghoon looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.
You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Sunghoon knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol during your diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just a glass tonight.
It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the wine, but you had a little help.
A little help from Sunghoon himself.
When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you noticed nothing and gulped everything down. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.
But Sunghoon assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank...
Until you were more than tipsy.
You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.
"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Sunghoon announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.
"Will she be okay?"
"Of course. I'll take care of her."
He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.
You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them by the entry.
When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.
"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"
Sunghoon sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper—a secret, a confession only you know. "Right?"
You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Sunghoon will fix your mistakes.
"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter.
He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.
Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.
"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks—he hopes.
You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Sunghoon as if his simple presence will make all of your problems go away.
You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Sunghoon everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.
You bring him closer, wrinkling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.
Sunghoon breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.
"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days earlier when you came to his studio to try on his dress.
You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly.
He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.
And maybe it was made for you, after all.
Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.
Sunghoon will make you walk the runway wearing his dress—the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.
His forever.
"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.
"Tell me what you did," Sunghoon softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.
You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.
"I prepared myself for you..." you begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Sunghoon wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.
"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him.
You swallow, "On my ass, Sunghoon," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.
"Good girl," Sunghoon purrs. "Let me see it then."
You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor.
You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Sunghoon stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.
His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you.
You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours.
He sees that your ass is a bit more loose than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock—though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not.
He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side?
He's choked you before—smacked your ass hard till you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements.
So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Sunghoon wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?
But you trust him so much—with all of your pathetic being—and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiples, and being the poor girl that you are, you said nothing.
You truly are extraordinary.
He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice, "how about we play with it a little?"
He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."
"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase.
"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.
Sunghoon brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well.
He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you, sinking in gradually as Sunghoon holds your cheeks apart.
"Feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Sunghoon.
When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, leaving his stinging handprint on you.
"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?"
"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug.
Sunghoon genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way—though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.
It's not like you seem to mind, anyway.
After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever.
He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.
He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt.
"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy.
His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out.
"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Sunghoon holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock.
He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin burning after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip.
"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Sunghoon. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex.
"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before.
When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls envelop him tightly.
He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your neck and shoves your head against the mattress.
You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body.
He already sets a hard and rapid pace—fucking is never soft or loving with Sunghoon, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public, and releases when he gets intimate with you.
You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. You've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Sunghoon whenever he feels like it.
"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, to be ravished and delighted to have his cock sliding against your walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head into the bed covers with more strength.
You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Sunghoon's hand still pushing down on your head.
His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and onto the bed. Your pussy swallows all of him, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.
It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You hold the bed sheets between your fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Sunghoon and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you.
He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock.
His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Sunghoon controls you—controls your life and thoughts.
With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, covered in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you and as he holds you by the throat, he lewdly licks the side of your face in a long stripe.
You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers the words to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so badly like the slut that you are.”
His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy. You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud.
"Yes, want to please you, Sunghoon," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on you. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid.
He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you.
It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features.
He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you were on him, how impossible it was for you to live without someone to guide you.
He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room.
He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around him once again. Your hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest.
"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Sunghoon lets go of your face and hips.
You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Sunghoon slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress.
You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and milky skin. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only thing remaining on him being the watch crowning his right wrist.
His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes.
He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction—more pain.
He doesn't mind being naked because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Sunghoon is imposing, his cock thick enough to split you in half.
He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator that has caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, your hole pathetically quivering—missing his size terribly.
He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath, sweetheart," Sunghoon instructs and you inhale deeply.
He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. There's still a bit of lube left on it and around your ass. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after.
He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaked from your pussy. His cock is so close to it and Sunghoon could slide right in with one movement of his hips.
He lets go of one of your legs to grip his erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in.
"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, staring so obsessively at your rim.
Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush down to his cock at the mere thought of hurting you.
Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it—he needs it. Accuse him of having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him of everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame.
"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more force. "Can you, baby?" Sunghoon asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you.
"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you.
"Yes what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain.
His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut.
"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails into the flesh of his biceps, only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass."
You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Sunghoon groans at that, stuffing more of himself into you. "Good girl," he praises.
He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used on you. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink.
The tears roll down the side of your face and Sunghoon can't help but love the sight, leaning in to kiss your face and collect one of your tears, tasting the saltiness of it on his tongue.
"Sunghoon!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful eyes. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin.
"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks a breath through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough.
He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, going down to your collarbones and pawing at your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you.
He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first.
The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation.
It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependent on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Sunghoon because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically.
His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. His finger gently circles your clit to make the pain more bearable.
His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..."
A choked moan is all that escapes your mouth. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his shoulder blades.
He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place—making sure you know that he’s always in control.
Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Sunghoon bottoms out. It starts to feel good for you—really good—and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning.
You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fingers.
He pulls away from you, his full lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms.
He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lets out a low groan, holding eye-contact with you.
You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You love to feel his pulsing veins under your fingertips.
"Sunghoon..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Sunghoon takes the opportunity to smooch over your neck again as you expose it to him, his lips pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly.
He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure.
And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.
"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby.”
He slowly halts his hip thrusts and he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass.
Sunghoon raises himself up from you and gets out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed.
You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Sunghoon commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees.
He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head.
"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Sunghoon's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the room.
He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair.
You relax your jaw for Sunghoon, allowing him to stuff more of himself into your mouth. He looks down at you, watching at the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water.
He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take him whole each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases.
"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, "you're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again.
You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said, sending vibrations throughout his entire body. He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes burning as Sunghoon fucks your throat roughly.
"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet.
You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Sunghoon's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself.
Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Sunghoon's moans and the feeling of his cock weighing down on your tongue.
You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger smoothly flickering over your sensitive bud.
The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Sunghoon can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him.
"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. "Go on the bed, baby."
You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Sunghoon penetrates your pussy, bending your legs over your stomach.
"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed right away, tits moving up and down on your chest.
His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly it hurts. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high.
You let out a high-pitched moan when Sunghoon suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in his fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your cunt.
"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips.
Your pussy clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep in you. When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering you in his cum.
He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made of you.
Later, Sunghoon is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall.
He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his dress, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes.
He thinks about everything that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Sunghoon.
You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five.
Sunghoon knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you.
But that's why he's here, he'll take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his—solely and completely.
"Sunghoon?"
Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest.
"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?"
You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."
๑♡՞
The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them.
But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best.
Sunghoon was satisfied to see that his name stood out amongst everyone else's, being mentioned more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about.
He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you contributed to the fame a lot.
Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Sunghoon needed.
But every good story has an end, doesn't it?
When Sunghoon comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, the city draped in the dark, splotches of bright yellow light flashing in front of your eyes. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes.
You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that happened the past weeks in your head.
It was going to happen soon or later anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all.
Sunghoon was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen.
He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with or without Sunghoon's sabotage. He did you a favour.
You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Sunghoon was feeding you. The bottles of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea.
You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to.
"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, still looking outside. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..."
He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Sunghoon comes home.
"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says.
You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts.
"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you."
Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed till the end of it.
He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away.
How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you—close all of your past wounds and create other ones. He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you—he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.
love, after all is hunger. when one is overwhelmingly consumed by their feelings, they believe that the only way to truly possess their beloved is to make them a part of themselves—literally.
𓊆박성훈 x fem reader𓊇 i found you, and felt so strongly. "i want to eat you, i want to eat you, i so want to eat you." and where i nibbled you, and i devoured climax, pleasure. everything swirls together. delicious, delicious, oh, so delicious. i truly have become one with you. sucking on your bones, i will love you. ─ 狐の嫁入り, masa works ⫶ 𐔌masterlist꒱
𓆩♡𓆪 this has been ongoing since february and i finally... finally completed it today... oh bless me. please, please, please read the warnings because i've never written something this dark and gore-y + sex scene! this is more of the thoughts + process of a sick, fucked up person ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)
word count 16k
warning advisory grotesque element: cannibalism & heavy gore (body and food horror), religious themes, stalking, obsessive behaviour, disturbing thoughts on food & eating human (descriptive & imagery), breaking in, disgusting & disturbing behaviour/thoughts by sunghoon, psychological manipulation, blood (not in the sexual intercourse), sunghoon's unstable, descriptions on tearing skin etc.
smut advisory m. masturbation, f. oral, pussy eating, tongue fucking, squirting, sunghoon has thoughts on eating you literally (descriptive) while performing sexual acts, cervix fucking, missionary, creampie, cock warming, reader said "it hurts" and "wait" but everything's consensual
viscera.
the viscera are the soft internal organs of the body located in the chest (thoracic cavity) and abdomen (abdominal cavity), including the heart, lungs, stomach, liver, and intestines.
sunghoon knew hunger before he knew love, and somewhere along the journey of his life—he began seeing hunger and love as the same thing.
the first time he was exposed to the idea was when he was a young teenager alone in his room. he was playing an online game when he accidentally clicked a shady advertisement that brought him to another website—a hentai website.
curious, adolescent, and horny, sunghoon clicked on a particular video that stood out to him. it was about a shapeshifter who fucked his lover, then got overstimulated and shifted into a big, heavy bear before biting off the head of the woman. that scene stuck and buried itself deep in the crevices of sunghoon’s mind.
how powerful, sunghoon thought; to love someone to the point of aggression.
from then, he began to believe that love is meant to be devoured and devouring. even the bible itself is full of consumption when it says—the holiest act of devotion is the ritual of eating the christ’s flesh, to drink his blood—because to love God is to consume him.
love is consumption, and faith is flesh, and it is all intertwined.
the boy also knew that in ancient greece, lovers would bite each other until they bled, which quickly became the proof of passion marked by bruised skin and torn lips. the king and queen of gods—rhea and cronus—were no strangers to hunger either. cronus swallowed his own 5 children whole as soon as rhea delivered them in fear that his newborns would one day overthrow him. there was also zeus, who swallowed metis for his own benefit—but sunghoon liked to think it was so that she could never leave him.
love was never gentle, and it was apparent in folklore too. sunghoon didn’t understand it back then why the witch fattened children before the feast, the vampire draining his lover dry, the wolf licking his sharp, fangy teeth before sinking it deep into the plush flesh of little red.
but that was years ago, he was a child back then, he screamed and cried when his little sister bit his finger. sunghoon understood it now—love was to take. love was to consume. love was to destroy.
while they were not romantic by any means, there’s a similarity, a fine line barely blurred between cannibalism and wanting to have someone be as close to you as possible, physically. both are driven by an insatiable need, an urge—although once devoured, what else is left? even then, it’s still not close enough.
——
sunghoon had seen your stuff before he saw you.
his neighbour moved out a few months ago from a job offer in another state, and for 4 months, the room was left vacant. not that he was complaining—it was better for him that way. he could play his instruments, games, have friends over, and blast music as loud as he wished to without having someone pounding on his door, telling him to shut the fuck up. for four months, he was in heaven.
but heaven on earth doesn't last forever.
and this was better than any heaven could offer.
he wasn’t curious in any way so neither him, nor you, ever introduced yourselves to one another. there was no housewarming party from you, and sunghoon didn’t bother showing up with fruitcakes.
but slowly, he started noticing. not in a friendly or neighbourly way of exchanging polite nods of acknowledgement or holding the elevator door open—hell, he didn’t even bump into you or cross paths.
no, sunghoon noticed you in the way a shadow notices the body it follows.
it started with the small things. the cardboard boxes stacked in front of your door from your move a couple days ago (that were still there, even after weeks), labeled in rushed neat handwriting, a packed delivery food hung on your doorknob, the perfume scent of white flower lingered in the air when he exited his door for morning classes.
you, to sunghoon, were just a collection and fragments of objects and moments.
then, he started noticing more than just things.
sunghoon started listening too.
the wall that separated the two rooms was thinner than anybody would like to have. so thin he could hear the sneeze you held back, your conversations with your parents, the refrigerator noise when you didn’t fully close it, your dryer signalling the end. so thin he could hear your humming to your favourite song while you were showering, the blurred and incoherent dialogues from late–night sitcoms you’d left turned on the whole night.
so thin he prayed you wouldn’t hear the things he did in the dark.
soon, sunghoon found out that you attended the same university as he did—your name printed among the rosters as his. fate hadn’t been kind to him often, but now it seemed and felt like it was cradling him.
he took forensic science, while you took education. it fits you, sunghoon thought—you were soft-spoken in the hallways when you thanked the other neighbour for leftovers, or when he had overheard you scolding your little brother for something, and sunghoon couldn’t tell if you were mad, or disappointed.
you’d make a great mother.
the first time sunghoon properly saw you, he was alone on the complex’s rooftop. a cigarette smoldered between his lips, the night sky cracked open above him. you weren’t occupied in his mind nor was he searching for you, yet there you were.
like a sacrament being offered—body and blood disguised in soft skin and breath.
walking along the entrance with your cardigan clutched tight around your frame, tote bag hanging loose off your shoulder. your steps were small, unhurried, the rhythm that told him you probably thought you were safe since you were already in the area. the cold breeze caught in your hair and pulled strands across your cheek.
sunghoon’s chest cinched tight. you’re adorable, he hummed. taking another drag of his cigarette. no, adorable is an understatement. there was something soft about the way you move, the innocence swimming in your eyes, the little push of your lip against your cheek.
how unfair, he exhaled slowly. feeling the smoke escaping his lungs. someone like you existed in the same world as him.
he watched—you were so far below despite living right next his door. sunghoon watched as your figure slipped into the building and out of sight, and he realised he was holding his breath—lungs aching not from the smoke, but from something more, something’s missing.
the ember at the tip of his cigarette had burned out completely, leaving only the taste of ash in his mouth.
the taste… so familiar—so close to what he felt when he came to the hentai he watched when he was younger.
——
you were like a disease—and sunghoon the host. it began with a single spore in his lungs that went unseen but felt–able, then multiplied with each breath until he was drowning, and all sunghoon could feel was raw ache.
you curled into his veins until every beat of his heart pumped you deeper and deeper. his body became a chamber of contagion, gnawed hollow by desire.
“—hoon, sunghoon!”
his head jerked up, thoughts breaking like glass. jake was staring at him across the cafeteria table, brows slightly furrowed. sunghoon blinked and brought his latte to his lips, snapping out of it. “you spaced out again, man. what’s gotten into you?”
sunghoon licked his lips, wetting it before shaking his head. “nothing,” he murmured, setting his cup down. “what were you saying?”
jake studied him for a moment longer, then shrugged it off. “the communication department is holding a festival this weekend for every major. there’ll be food stalls and booths and we’re all going to support sunoo. figured you might want to tag along.”
sunghoon pursed his lips, stirring the liquid in his cup with the flimsy wooden stirrer. yeah—he had no plans for the weekend except bedrotting and completing the endless tedium of reports. his professors were merciless with deadlines and memorising blood samples and decomposition stages—but he figured he could make time for some fun.
“sure,” he gave a small, practiced nod. jake smiled, already leaning back in his chair to ramble about his days. sunghoon let the words wash over him, feigning interest with the occasional hum. his mind was elsewhere but here.
sunghoon wondered what you could be doing right now. it’s lunchtime. do you have lunch in the cafeteria? crossed legs and stirring your juice and laughing with your friends? he tried to picture what you’d order. you didn’t seem like someone who’d for anything greasy—maybe something light. like a sandwich, or pasta.
what kind of meat do you like? sunghoon wondered, eyes drifting toward the untouched food on his own plate. what do girls as pretty as you even eat?
beef, maybe—rich and dark, the kind that melts apart in your mouth if cooked just right… tender, but tough if overcooked. sunghoon hated that the most. maybe chicken, simple and clean and hard to mess up. he could picture you chewing slowly, suppressing a smile. pork, though—he thought of the sweetness of it, the glaze, the stickiness that would cling to your fingers. but pork carries pathogens and parasites that are hard to kill despite being cooked.
you wouldn’t like that.
again, sunghoon imagined you savouring it—taking small bites politely, licking the sauce from your thumb—unconscious, devastating. you never realised that someone out there would’ve given anything to taste you.
“—jesus, hoon,” jake waved a hand in front of sunghoon, knocking reality into him. he blinked, swallowing the saliva he didn’t realise was pooling in the back of his throat. he straightened up, looking at jake. “yeah?”
“what time are you free this saturday?”
——
“i’ll just takeaway a salad, thank you.”
you’re a vegetarian ever since you could remember. you didn’t eat meat by choice, lived untouched by blood and bone and filth. your meals were soft in colour, greens, steamed broccoli, grains, nuts.
you preferred knowing nothing died for your sake—food that never screamed, never struggled, never bled. you ate gently, every bite was an act of mercy.
“just that?” wonyoung asked, thanking the cashier as she tapped her card on the terminal. you nodded, taking the bag from the waitress. “yeah, this is enough,” you hummed, smiling. “i really can’t afford eating too much and puking later.”
your friend nodded, linking her arm around your wrist as the two of you made your way out. “is sunoo already there? has he texted you yet?” she asked, peeking slightly from your shoulder as you fished your phone out.
“mm, hold on,” you murmured, thumb swiping across the screen. “he’s already there,” you said, glancing up at her. “he said he’d told jiwoo that we’ll be a little late.”
wonyoung grinned. “thank god. i don’t want her to nag in our ears later.”
“no one dares to nag at you, wony!”
the air was already beginning to be filled with chatter and sizzles from the food stalls lined up beneath unlit string lights. the scent of oil and spice hung heavy. you, wonyoung, and sunoo sat crowded around a small metal table, your takeaway salad box nearly empty, spork resting on the rims of your bowl.
“god, this was so good,” wonyoung sighed, leaning back in her chair. “now i have some energy to serve for the next seven hours.”
sunoo laughed, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “thanks for the meal, wony. i didn’t have time to drop by to get breakfast.”
wonyoung waved a dismissive hand. “it’s fine, don’t mention it! we prefer not rushing anyway.”
before you could respond, a voice cut through the din.
“kim sunoo!”
the three of you looked up. jake was grinning, waving as he made his way over with heeseung and sunghoon trailing behind him.
“oh, you guys are here so early!” sunoo perked up, waving them over. “yeah,” heeseung said, still standing beside jake. “we figured we’d check out the other booths before the crowd gets worse.” jake nodded, “yeah, then we’ll come back for you again during lunch.”
then, jake leaned forward slightly, eyeing your table. “man, this looks good. you got food without us, sunoo?”
“you were late,” sunoo teased, nudging his forearm playfully. “anyway, this is wonyoung, and—” he turned toward you with an easy smile. “—this is yn. my friends from the education department.”
wonyoung gave a polite wave, and you just smiled, murmuring a quick hello.
sunoo then gestured to the three boys. “and these are my high school friends—jake, heeseung, sunghoon.”
you looked up at the name, eyes briefly meeting sunghoon’s but staying the longest as he was the last one to be introduced. there was a flicker of recognition—or something close to it—but you brushed it off just quickly.
“nice to meet you,” you said softly.
sunghoon’s lips quirked into a polite half–smile. “yeah,” he murmured, voice low enough that it nearly disappeared under the hum of the crowd—meant only for you. “you too.”
like a blooming flower in rot, something unfurling where it shouldn’t. that quiet sickness—nourished by the ghost of your gaze—spread slow beneath his ribs.
he saw the crumpled paper bag from the restaurant, half–buried in the trash beside the booth. his friends were already walking ahead. “go on, i’ll catch up,” sunghoon called, forcing a small smile.
they didn’t think much of it.
when they turned the corner, sunghoon stood before the bin, his shadow looming across the metal. his fingers brushed against the paper. it still held the faint scent of greens. opening it, the container inside was empty except for smudges of sauces.
sunghoon stared for a moment too long. then, as though he couldn’t control his body, he peeled open the plastic container—and slipped the spork you’d used into his pocket.
pulse thudding in his throat—something sweet and rotten bloomed quietly in his chest.
——
sunghoon didn’t talk to you for the rest of the festival—not like there was a reason to in the first place. you were with your friends, and he was with his’. while you were doing your task in your little food stall both, he lingered somewhere in the periphery, eyes observing you handling the food.
it’s alright, he reassured himself. the two of you are neighbours. for any time sunghoon decides that he wants to talk to you, he can just knock on your door. simple. easy.
the day ended like any other.
that night, sunghoon set the spork on his desk. unwashed. the faint smell of vinaigrette still clung to it, sweet and sour. was that the flavour you liked? sunghoon thought you’d prefer something more umami.
he placed it neatly beside his keyboard, the plastic catching the lamplight.
it’s weird. it definitely was. no sane person would rummage through the bin and take a used item. especially one that had entered someone’s mouth. that’s disgusting—unsanitary, even.
sunghoon knew that. he wasn’t stupid.
but there was something about it—the evidence that you had touched something he could hold. disgusting, he thought. then again, he didn’t put it back.
in fact… he wanted to do it again.
“later?” you talked over the phone, the device pressed between your ear and your shoulder as you washed the dishes. you glanced at the clock on the wall, chewing the inside of your cheek. “no, i can’t… sorry. i promised jin–sol i’ll come over tonight to study.”
the plates made a slight clinking noise when you placed them on the dish rack, wiping your hands dry. “maybe tomorrow? it’s been almost two weeks since the festival and the data team still hasn’t sent their analysis anyway.”
“yeah, tomorrow i’ll come over. sorry, toni.”
this was it—you weren’t going to be home for a few hours. sunghoon heard it all from his room as he pressed his ear against the wall, eavesdropping. his pulse quickened when he heard the sound of your footsteps, the jingle of your keys, then the soft click of the door closing—each detail carved into his nerves.
fuck, he’s really going to do it.
sunghoon sat still for a moment before slowly creeping out of his apartment, peeking from the hallway balcony to make sure your silhouette had disappeared from turning the corner. the air outside felt heavier somehow—maybe because of what he was going to do.
he stood in front of your door. sunghoon knew where you kept your emergency key—buried beneath the wilted soil of one of the flower pots, tucked away like a secret. his fingers brushed against the damp earth, searching, soil stuck beneath his fingernails, and sunghoon only stooped when the cold metal finally kissed his skin.
the lock clicked open with a soft sound—almost too easy, he thought. sunghoon didn’t wait a second lingering there as he immediately slipped inside, not wanting to get caught by the other tenants.
your apartment was clean, smelled faintly of your detergent and something floral. a pair of cat slippers sat neatly by the entrance, an umbrella leaned against the wall. everything had its place and purpose.
he trailed his fingers along the edge of your counter. there was a mug in the sink, lipstick–stained on the rim, the water inside was just tap. your living room was small, a folded blanket on the couch, book facedown, faint indentation on the cushion where you sat.
sunghoon then took a slow step toward your bedroom door. this was the closest he had ever been to you in terms of intimacy. he’d seen you before, of course—at the festival—but this was quiet, private.
this was you with the things you left behind.
his breath caught as he turned the knob, the faint creak of hinge slicing through. the scent inside was different—warmer, more personal, it smelled like your honey shampoo, your vanilla lotion, your mist. yeah, all of those belonged on your skin, didn’t they?
sunghoon’s gaze darted across the room: your bed, slightly rumpled, cardigan draped over the chair; a bottle on the nightstand.
but it wasn’t your bedroom that he was interested in—the fridge hummed softly. that’s what he wanted to know. what you ate. what kept you alive.
“let’s see…” sunghoo crouched, fingers curling around the handle as he pulled the door open. cold air washed over him, sharp and clean, and inside—neat rows of containers, fruits sealed in public, half–finished salad bowls. your world was colourless. green and yellows, nothing red,
nothing raw.
your fridge had not a single meat to it.
his gaze lingered on a jar of olives and pickles, a small tub of hummus and greek yogurt. these food that don’t bleed when bitten into. sunghoon tilted his head. “you eat clean, huh,” he muttered, studying the paper bag of wrapped sweet potatoes.
he imagined you eating it—your tongue brushing over vegetables, your teeth never knowing what it's like ripping apart fleshes. then, sunghoon wondered what you would look like tasting something heavier, darker. filling your mouth with warmth and iron—because there was no way greens would taste good hot.
sunghoon turned away from the fridge, shutting it as his eyes drifted to the small bin beside the counter. heart pacing quick and uneven as his fingers dipped into the pile. “god…” every sound in the apartment seemed to grow louder as he rummaged through the trash bin.
pushing aside fruit peels, paper towels, plastic wrappers—sunghoon’s hand came in contact with a plastic cup. a paper straw. faintly bent, slightly wet, the tip stained a soft shade of pink. your lipstick.
the proof that your mouth had been there made his stomach twist. lifting it to his nose, sunghoon inhaled the tip of the straw—very faintly sweet of your matcha, artificial lipstick scent but you, nonetheless.
what the fuck am i doing…? the thought occurred to him as he tucked the straw into his pocket, flattening the limp paper straw. sunghoon moved through your apartment like a shadow without its owner.
the next door he opened was the bathroom—small for two, tiled, faintly damp and still wet. the mirror was fogged at the corners, toothpaste crusted by the sink. your toothbrush rested in a cup, pale bristles worn from daily use.
sunghoon’s throat felt dry as he stood before the mirror, looking everywhere but his reaction. he was ashamed, humiliated, disgusted—but fuck, he couldn’t help it. his fingers curled around the small handle, staring at it—the soft drag of bristles against your gums, pressed into your tongue—how it must’ve tasted like peach mint and saliva and you.
slowly, sunghoon brought his head up—his reflection looked wrong and calm—eyes hollowed with want as he brought the brush to his lips. the bristles grazed his teeth. it was an absurd imitation of closeness, he knew, yet something in him swelled with a trembling sort of pleasure.
is this how you taste like? part of you? the sound of bristles dragging faintly against his teeth filled the silence. sunghoon pressed it harder, dragging them across his enamel until the flavour bloomed into something he swore tasted like you and him at once.
saliva pooled, thick and warm, he swallowed alongside the leftover dried paste.
his tongue found the bristles next—slow—searching the places your tongue had pressed, the grooves where you spit had dried. each stroke only aroused his curiousity—is this the curve of your gum? is this the soft underside of your lip?
the toothbrush was making a map on sunghoon’s tongue. a low sound escaped him—half groan, half moan—when he tasted the faint iron of his own blood mixing with the mint from brushing too hard. the bristles were soaked now, darkened with the pink of his gums but still he dragged them back and forth, back and forth.
look at you, his reflection stared back at him. look at what you’re doing. sunghoon watched his mouth open, watched the toothbrush disappear between his lips like a lover’s finger. his thighs pressed together against the sudden ache, fuck, this was giving him a hard–on.
when he pulled the brush free, strings of saliva stretched and snapped. sunghoon rinsed the brush under the tap, watching the swirl down the drain like a secret. then he placed it back in its holder, bristles up, exactly where you’d left it.
sunghoon by no means is religious—but in christianity, as what he was taught when he attended a christian kindergarten and sunday churches, saints’ relics were kept, and sometimes ingested. holy fragments of the divine sealed in boxes for believers to kneel before.
a way to keep faith close, to let holiness rot beautifully in glass.
he supposed he was a devout now if you were a religion.
in the ritual of his own making—the straw, a single sock, a strand of hair snagged in a hair tie he’d found in the bedroom, a discarded band–aid carefully in tissue. small things you would never notice missing anyway.
next time, he’ll be bolder.
——
“kim sunoo!” jake’s voice cut through the chatter of the restaurant, loud enough to turn a few heads. he waved from across the table, grinning. sunoo smiled, waving back. “i brought wonyoung and yn too. figured it’d be nice.”
“that’s alright, the more the merrier anyway.” heeseung smiled, greeting the two of you. you and wonyoung sat opposite of sunoo, quietly placing your respective orders. the table got lively quickly with jake’s cheerful demeanor, and heeseung’s outgoing personality. sunghoon though, sitting at the far end, hadn’t said much, just the occasional nod and hum.
but you supposed you too, content with listening to their stories. to anyone else, sunghoon looked indifferent, disinterested. but every now and then, his eyes flickered toward you. he watched the way you gathered your hair in one hand (was it because he took your hairband?) to sip your soup, the way you laughed and leaned to everything wonyoung said.
everything you did was small and nothing remarkable, yet it caught him like static.
watching you now was strange. weird, even. sunghoon had been inside your house more than once after that night. had touched your things, had used your toothbrush and lotion, laid on your bed, pressed his palm against the hollow your body left on the sheets.
and yet, the real thing was here. so oblivious to the things that were happening to you—your apartment while you were gone. so oblivious that he was your neighbour eavesdropping to your everyday life through the thin wall. so unaware that your nail clipper and earpick had been used, shoes had been sniffed, spoons had been licked.
yeah. as long as you had zero idea about it, sunghoon should be alright.
he might be disgusting, but you’re a plain idiot.
“i’m so sorry i can’t send you back tonight, yn,” wonyoung frowned, glancing at her phone. “my sister needs me to pick her up from the station.”
you waved her off with a small laugh. “it’s fine, wony. i don’t live far.”
“still. text me when you get home, okay?” wonyoung pressed, already half turned toward her parked car. “mmhm,” you nodded, giving her a quick hug before stepping into the night.
you didn’t notice him at first. sunghoon walked a few paces behind. everyone left almost at the same time—pretending to check his phone, pretending he didn’t see you in front or the fact that he knew you guys were neighbours.
it wasn’t until you turned a corner that you caught the faint echo of footsteps matching yours. you slowed down, so did he. your fingers curled around your strap tighter, when you glanced back, you saw him—tall, eyes downcast.
sunghoon looked up then, caught your gaze—your steps faltered—and for a brief, awkward moment, the silence stretched.
“...uh,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “sunghoon, right?”
sunghoon’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, almost polite. “yeah,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “hey.”
you nodded quickly, slightly relieved that at least it wasn’t some creep or pervert or rapist. that it was a mutual… friend? someone your bestfriend knew. “do you live around here?” you asked softly, coming to a stop.
sunghoon took a few steps closer, it didn't bother you. “yeah,” he replied, gesturing with his hand toward the building across the street. “i live in that one.”
you followed his gesture, letting your gaze travel to the familiar shape of the apartment. that’s where you lived too! “what, really?” a small laugh escaped your lips. “that’s… i live there too.”
he raised his eyebrows, lips parting slightly. “you serious?” he chuckled, feigning confusion. “that’s a crazy coincidence. what room?” he added. sunghoon looked like he was genuinely curious in your eyes.
“33A, and you?”
you watched as his eyes widened just a fraction. “...32A,” he said, voice low, a shy laugh escaped him. “right next door, huh?” you blinked, a little startled by the coincidence. “yeah… oh wow—we’re literally neighbours…”
he nodded slowly, as if letting the reality settle. “that’s… uh, crazy,” he murmured, brushing another hand over the back of his neck. there was a pause, a strange tension in the air. you smiled nervously, finding yourself walking alongside sunghoon.
“how come i never noticed you?” you broke the silence, looking up at him. sunghoon glanced down at you. your eyelashes are really pretty, aren’t they? long, curved, brushing against your cheeks… your mascara sure is lucky, pressed so close to the wet shine of your eyes, kissing the thin skin every time you blink, drinking in the salt of your tears and running down your cheeks when it’s wet.
“...not sure,” sunghoon finally replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. he broke his gaze, looking forward. “i’m not home often, so…” he murmured in reply, shrugging. “how come i never noticed you?”
lies after lies.
you smiled, now it was your turn to shrug. “i’m not always home either,” you replied, tilting your head just enough for the streetlight to catch the gloss on your lower lip. “and i just moved so maybe that’s why.”
sunghoon couldn’t focus on what you were saying, his gaze snagged at the plump, shiny, imprint of your teeth where you’d bitten down earlier when you probably thought you were being followed. oh yn, the danger is closer than you thought it is.
that lip gloss, was it the one he saw on your vanity? the one he wanted to take, but it’d probably be too obvious, he thought. cherry, maybe. or vanilla, if lip gloss had scents.
sunghoon wanted to lean in, wanted to drag his tongue across that shine and taste the wax and heat and your lips. he wanted to kiss you until the gloss smeared across his mouth, until the flavour was indistinguishable from the salt of his skin. he wanted to bite down your lower lip, to hear the small startled moan you’d make when his teeth met flesh.
but of course, he didn’t. he looked away before you noticed.
“sunoo will be so surprised if he knew we were neighbours.” you giggled, a smile etched across your face. “then he’ll come over more often, just so he can hang out.” you continued, running your hand through your hair.
sunghoon just managed a soft yeah, swallowing the urge. his tongue pressed to the side of his cheek. if i take it now, you’ll know. if i take it now, you’ll run, the thought hissed.
by the time you knew it, the two of you were in the elevator heading up to the third floor.
“oh we’re here,” you said, stopping in front of your door. the old hallway light flickered once, then twice before steadied. you turned the key and the door sighed open. did you know sunghoon know where you kept your extra key?
sunghoon unlocked his door too, waiting for you to step inside first. “that didn’t feel like a long walk.” he chuckled, smiling. you smiled, leaning against the frame. “well,” you hummed, eyelashes fluttering prettily. “night, neighbour.”
he nodded, throat dry. “night.”
you hesitated then lifted your hand in a small wave. the door shut with a soft thud, then the lock slid home.
sunghoon stayed in the hallway, staring at the 33A number until it felt like they blurred. just three steps from his own door. his key scraped the lock, inside, the dark greeted him.
tomorrow, he decided. tomorrow he’d borrow sugar. tomorrow he’d stand closer. and soon, he’d taste the gloss for real. the obsession settled in his chest, it was still something he couldn’t quite name, but it had teeth now, still small but growing.
only hunger had a name, and it wanted you.
——
ever since that night, things had… shifted. subtly at first.
like magic, you and sunghoon started running into each other more often—sometimes at the garbage disposable downstairs, sometimes at the lobby mailbox, sometimes the two of you left your rooms at the same time. he’d always smile, small and reserved while you were always embarrassed to be caught at the same time.
it became a quiet routine. you’d wave when you saw him through the balcony smoking, he’d greet you in the morning, and before long, it felt strange not to see him around after… practically never seeing him at all since the past few months.
you supposed it’s true—that once you become aware of someone, you can never stop.
“hngh, fuck, fuck, fuck,”
sunghoon’s forehead rested against the thin wall that separated your apartment from his’, big hand clamped around his bigger cock as he jerked himself off. he was on his knees, legs splayed just enough for balance.
“i’m making dinner, right now,” you said, phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear. on the other line that only you heard, wonyoung asked what you were doing. it’s a friday night, and everyone was apparently too busy for a hangout.
“gym? you’re going to the gym right now?”
he let out a soft, inaudible groan under his breath silently as he pressed the palm of his hand against the hardening cock, pumping his cock back and forth with his eyes shut tightly. if he tried hard enough, he could imagine you splayed underneath him, legs spreaded—showing that pretty, meaty pussy that was all his to devour.
gym—hah, fuck, sunghoon thought. you didn’t need that. you didn’t need to lift or sweat or burn away the softness that made sunghoon so captivated to you. you were already perfect—so tender in all the right places, so soft it made his jaw ache and teeth sensitive just thinking about it.
it’d be so nice to bite you, flesh between his teeth as he grinded and dug his canines inside…
his cock throbs in his hand at the mere thought, the length of it bobbed and seemingly increased. the head of it was red and flushed, oozing out beads of precum that trailed over his hand.
“ngh, f—fuck, yn, keep talking,” he moaned softly, chest heaving, the sound barely audible against the quiet hum of his room. his breath was uneven, quick. every inhale trembled, every exhale came out in a low, broken sigh.
his cock was so achingly painful.
“he’s still bothering you? using a new number?”
his hips twitched as he began thrusting his cock in his fist like cunt, his wet cum making it easier for sunghoon to glide his cock back and forth, his other hand braced against the wall, palm pressed firm. something needed to keep him grounded as his body trembled, his forehead rested close to his wrist.
in short, hot bursts of breath, spine arched with each staggered breath as he fucked his fist. squelching noise filled the room from where his skin met the base of his cock. he wanted to sink into the thought of you, chew through the distance until there was nothing left between your body and his need.
“men are shit, anyway… did you report him to the professor?”
sunghoon increased his pace in stroking his cock, his thumb rolling around the tip of his flushed head, suppressing from cumming—he did not want to cum just yet. sunghoon was so hungry. the kind of imagination sunghoon had was not like the other guys when they jerked off to the girl they liked.
he didn’t just want to make love to you, he wanted to consume you. he wanted to more than just lick your pussy, he wanted to eat it. press his teeth on the flesh, tug on your little clit. sunghoon didn’t want to just fondle your tits, he wanted to squeeze those boobs until the flesh spilled between his fingers.
it was more than lust—it was appetite.
“oh, i cooked extra—should i send some to sunghoon? did you know he’s my ne—”
sunghoon groaned softly, painfully suppressing his moan in his stomach as he tipped his head back. “oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, ‘m cummin yn, ‘m cummin for you,” his entire body tensed, his huge cock jumped in his hand as he came, cum spurting all over his wall. he panted, shoulders dropped as the semen trailed down slowly like waterdrop.
that concluded it. sunghoon didn’t just want you—it was clear now.
he wanted to live inside your skin and be your birth and death and your beginning and end and your undoing and betterment. he wanted to eat you whole, to tear flesh by flesh, chew your skin between his teeth, grind your strands of hair, bite off your fingers and toes, and to suck off your tender meat off your bone like marrow.
sunghoon’s eyes widened, and he spiraled, eyes spinning, head gyrating. he needed to ingest you, to metabolise you in him.
you too—yeah. you can have sunghoon’s heart, if you can stomach it.
sunghoon looked down on his cum covered hand, strings of semen dripping down his digits and onto the floor. he’s ashamed and humiliated at himself, but there was nothing he wanted to do to fix it.
“—hoon? sunghoon?”
his head snapped towards the door, eyes wide and panicked, heart hammering, he scrambled, jerking his pants up and fumbling with the waistband, hands shaking as he tied the ribbon. the sound of the faucet splashing echoed through the small kitchen as he hurriedly washed his hands, water running over his skin and washing away his sins.
sunghoon opened the door before you could knock for the second time, leaning against the frame. “hey, sorry,” he tried controlling his breath, chest rose. “i was… in the bathroom.”
you smiled, shaking your head dismissively. “it’s okay, i should’ve texted. i made too much food. thought you might be hungry.”
yeah. his eyes flicked to the container in your hands—japchae. but with mushrooms and tofu instead of meat. he swallowed, forcing a casual nod. “ah… yeah, i haven’t had dinner yet anyway,” he said, stepping aside lightly.
“if you haven’t either, do you wanna eat together?”
you blinked, slightly taken aback at the offer. the thought of eating together, especially one that’s invited, almost made your stomach flutter. after a brief pause, you nodded shyly. “mmhm… sure.”
he gave a faint smile. letting you slip past him, sunghoon shut the door close, taking the container from you to place it on the dining table.
you sat across sunghoon, unpacking the japchae. “so…” you began, reaching for the chopsticks. “just what were you up to, today?” sunghoon lifted a small bundle of noodles to his mouth, looking at you from his bangs.
today? today i cum to you.
“nothing much,” he shrugged. the flavours were simple and clean. “just completed some reports and… yeah, that’s pretty much all.” he glanced as you ate, trying not to stare, yet stealing glimpses when you weren’t looking. “what about you?”
you hummed, chewing and swallowing. the munched noodles bobbed from beneath your throat. “also nothing interesting,” you chuckled, pressing your lips together. “except i just learned how to make japchae so… you’re like the first one to try.”
sunghoon let out a soft, amused hum, the corner of his lips twitching. “so i’m your test subject?”
“mm, yeah, i guess you could say that,” you replied, smirking. the tension that had hung in the room since he’d opened the door eased just a little. sunghoon tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity.
“it’s really good. but… you don’t eat meat, yn?”
you shook your head, fingers pausing. “no, ever since i can remember. i just… can’t.” your tone softened, almost apologetic, though not ashamed. “i can’t handle the blood, the… killing. knowing they suffer for me, for my own hunger—i can’t eat something that’s been hurt. it makes me feel… guilty.”
sunghoon’s gaze flickered down to his plate. of course, he thought, you were gentle, careful, soft in all the ways he wanted to consume. and yet, here you were, refusing the very thing that sunghoon might have wanted to offer—the rawness, the bite, the blood.
he forced a small nod, swallowing the strange curl of disappointment and fascination that pooled in his stomach. you didn’t want to eat living beings, yet here sunghoon was. “i… see,” he murmured, looking up at you with an understanding smile. “you’re just kind like that, yn.”
you giggled, shaking your head. “nooo, please, i’m not,” you took a sip of your drink. “besides, i didn’t grow up in seoul but in the countryside, so seeing my chickens and sheep being… a meal kinda gave me the ick.” you continued casually.
“ah,” sunghoon nodded slowly, watching the way your lips curved between words, the faint gleam of moisture on your lower lip after you took another sip. “that makes sense.”
you laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair. “yeah, i mean… i used to name them, so it felt wrong when they ended up on the table the next day.”
he smiled faintly, wrong when they ended up on the table.
you went on, oblivious to the way his gaze lingered. your attention was on your dinner, anyway. “so i just stopped eating meat. it’s easier and better that way. people claim they love animals, but how could they—” you paused, twirling a few noodles around your chopsticks.
“—love something and still hurt it?”
you looked down, shrugging, expression softening. “i don’t know. maybe i’m too sentimental.”
sunghoon’s gaze sharpened on you. he had long paused from eating. one hand flexed and twitched against his knee, jaw tightened. the words distorted and sweetened in his head. how could they not? he thought. how could love exist without wanting to consume and make it a part of you?
if you really love someone, don’t you want to be with them all the time?
he watched as you lifted the mushroom to your lips, eyes half–lidded as you chewed, and something inside him twisted into something more than hunger.
you didn’t get it. you could never understand the depth of what he felt for you—love, to you was soft, gentle, harmless—all sunshine and rainbows and everything good in life. but to sunghoon, it was the bite and the swallow.
the meal dwindled to silence and you dabbed at your lips with a tissue, sunghoon watched as you set it aside. when you stood to put your cups in his sink as he insisted, sunghoon slid the crumpled tissue into his pocket.
the boy thanked you for the dinner, sent you back next door, and wished you goodnight.
when the latch clicked shut behind him, sunghoon looked down at the tissues folded neatly in his palm—his little souvenirs from the evening.
——
slowly, the friendship between the two of you began to bloom—almost without you noticing. it wasn’t sudden, just small things that fit together like puzzle pieces.
sunghoon was attentive. not in the loud, overbearing way most boys tried to be, but he was gentle, calm. he remembered tiny passing details you thought no one really heard, or cared. in fact, he knew things you were pretty sure you never told anyone.
and he listened. really listened. when you spoke, sunghoon’s gaze stayed fixed on you, his replies thoughtful and quiet, almost like he was careful with what he was saying which was something you appreciated.
sometimes, when you caught him staring, you’d laugh and ask what he was thinking about—but he’d just smile, shake his head, and say, “nothing.”
it felt easy with him, somehow. like right now.
“you’re spacing out again.”
sunghoon blinked, his pupils refocusing as your voice broke through his daze. he shook his head slightly, caught off guard by the teasing in your tone.
“sorry—” he murmured, a small sheepish smile tugging at his lips. his voice was soft. “just… thinking.”
you tilted your head, a playful glint in your eyes. “about what?”
his fingers tapped lightly against the table, as if buying time. you, he thought. always you. only you. but instead he just chuckled under his breath. “how you just have a basket of fruits, but never offered me some.”
your eyes widened a fraction, before a grin etched across your face. “really—?” you chuckled, brows knitting in slight confusion. “i didn’t know you wanted some. you should’ve said so.”
sunghoon shrugged, lips quirking. “didn’t want to impose.”
you smiled, shaking your head as you got up towards the kitchen. picking up a peach, you placed it on the cutting board. “please, you’re practically a regular guest at this point.” the knife scraped softly against the board as you sliced.
sunghoon watched as the blade was just a fraction away from the tips of your fingers—close enough to nick the skin. he wished bones were that easy to slice through. wished he could part the metacarpals with the same clean whisper the knife made through peach flesh.
“see?” you broke his train of thought, holding up a neat smile. “there’s no need to shy about it.”
but then—slip.
the blade caught the pad of your finger, a quick sting blooming before the bead of red followed. “ah—” you gasped and hissed quietly, instinctively pulling your hand back.
sunghoon got up from the carpet, his expression shifting in an instant. “you’re bleeding,” he said. you just awkwardly chucked it off, bringing your finger to your lips. “yeah, it’s fine. just a little cut.”
your lips closed around the cut, tongue curling to lap the blood in one slow swipe. sunghoon’s pulse stuttered. the wet shine of your mouth, the faint smear of red left behind, the soft suction as you drew the taste of yourself in.
mine, he absentmindedly thought, raw and sudden. i could take that finger, keep it warm between my teeth until the marrow cooled.
“ugh,” you mumbled, pulling it free with a soft pop. a final crimson bead welled up. you turned to the sink, cold water hissing over the wound. sunghoon just stayed by you, sighing. “that won’t do,” he stepped closer, “where do you keep your band aid?”
you pointed at a drawer. sunghoon reached for the small box, fumbling a strip free. “let me…” he trailed, gently taking your hand in his, turning it palm–up so the cut faced the light. the blood had slowed to a lazy seep, a single drop sliding down the curve of your finger.
sunghoon pressed the pad to the wound, smoothing the edges with his thumb. the gauze drank the red instantly. “there,” he said, voice low. “better?” he didn’t let go.
you shyly nodded, not bothered pulling it away.
“mmhm,” you looked up to him from underneath your lashes. “better.”
with sunghoon, the world felt like it was moving slower and quieter. when he laughed, he did it with his whole body—leaning forward slightly, covering the bottom half of his pretty face with the back of his hand, eyes crinkling faintly.
and in the best way possible—maybe because of the calmness he carried, it made you sleepy. not one that came out of exhaustion, but safely.
like right now.
your eyes fluttered shut, still sitting on the floor with your back against the couch, the hum of his voice and the tv slowly fading. sunghoon glanced at you, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his lips.
you looked peaceful, head tilted slightly, hair brushing against your cheek. carefully, sunghoon crawled towards you and crouched, slipping one arm beneath your knees and the other behind your back.
your body fits nicely in his hold. would you melt if he hugged you?
you stirred a little when he lifted you, murmuring something incoherent that sunghoon hushed you under his breath. he carried you to the bed with slow steps as he didn’t want to wake you up if he wasn’t gentle enough.
“...there,” he muttered softly, laying you down and tucking the blanket up to your shoulders. sunghoon stood there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of your chest. the faint scent of your shampoo clung to his sleeve.
then, quietly, his gaze drifted to your hand—the one with the cut from earlier. reaching for it, his fingers ghosted over yours, before peeling the edge loose.
the band aid came off easily, leaving your skin bare. he folded the used sticker, blood–side in, and slipped it into his pocket.
you looked so peaceful amidst the chaos in sunghoon’s mind. if only you knew a fragment about what he was thinking about you, you would be horrified to death. you would hate him. loathe him.
without realising, sunghoon leaned over you, getting a closer look at your features and your tiny details. your lashes cast shadows, your lips slightly parted, breathing. he hovered, breath ghosting the corner of your lips.
one kiss. just one, you’ll never know.
his hand found your jaw, thumb setting in the hollow beneath your ear.
the kiss was barely contact, lips to lips, yes, but a little dry and quick. warmth flooded his mouth, letting the lower one graze the same of yours, tasting faintly the peach you had. the kiss was feather–light, but his teeth ached more.
just a nip, it purred. just enough to feel…
sunghoon traced the shape of your mouth with his own, mapping the bow, the dip, the plush at the center. he pecked, imagining how your lower lip would brush purple before bleeding if he’d bite it down.
the thought alone flooded his mouth with saliva that slipped in yours.
your breath hitched, and he froze. tongue moved behind your teeth, sunghoon didn’t pull back. instead, he pressed harder, dragging his mouth over yours. his hands slid from your cheeks down to the sides of your neck where he he cradled the fragile columns of muscle and tendon, thumbs settling beneath your jaw.
sunghoon could feel the flutter of your pulse against his fingertips, like a morse code saying: alive, alive, alive.
lips parted, a soft exhale escaped your lips as he drank it in, the tip of his tongue dragging across your teeth where he felt every ridge, every little mamelon. this is the map, he thought. this is the place i’ll open first.
when sunghoon finally pulled away, your lips were slightly swollen, glistening with saliva. a single thread of it stretched between you, snapped, and clung to his lower lip. sunghoon licked it clean.
“hah…” he breathed, your head lolled to the side, exposing the full column of your neck. sunghoon started, thinking of the painting where wolves bit the sheep as the little white animal had its eyes closed peacefully.
you were the little white.
sunghoon leaned in, pressed his open mouth to that spot—no teeth, just heat from his breath—and felt the thrum of your life against his lips.
then he let go.
when he finally turned to leave, sunghoon fiddled with the band aid in his pocket, thumb brushing over the faint trace of your skin into the adhesive. later that night, sitting on the edge of his bed in the dim light of his room—
sunghoon sucked the band aid into his mouth, tongue tracing the taste of your sweet, metallic blood on the dressing—his eyes fluttered shut and rolled behind the thin skin, savouring it like a secret snack.
——
“so… you and sunghoon?”
you blinked, looking up from the laptop screen. “what?” you raised an eyebrow, darting your eyes back to the screen. “what about us…?”
sunoo raised his brows, a teasing lilt in his tone. “you guys go home together and come together and eat together and have inside jokes together and—”
you let out a soft, awkward chuckle, waving your hand dismissively. “oh, that’s just because we live in the same building. it’s… convenient.”
“convenient,” he repeated, smiling knowingly, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “riiiight. and the same lunch boxes?”
your mouth fell open slightly. “what—how do you even notice those things?”
your friend shrugged, scoffing playfully. “hah—you should see his face when you talk to other guys too.” you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your neck. “he’s just… protective, i guess. he’s nice.”
sunoo leaned back in his chair, smirking. “yeah, he is. but y’know—guys don’t just look at their friend, especially one that’s supposed to be just neighbours like they like them.”
your eyes widened, unsure whether to laugh or deny it. “w—what? no, it’s not like that,” you stammered, the corners of your lips twitching. “we’re just… friends, really.”
sunoo gave a small hum, not quite convinced. “mm. if you say so,” his tone was light, teasing. “just… be sure with what you feel. as both you and sunghoon’s friend, i can tell you—sunghoon’s a lot of things, but he’s not the one to play around.”
“so if you don’t like him, just tell him. he’ll understand. he can be intimidating sometimes, but he’s not cruel.”
you bit the inside of his cheek, gaze falling to your hands. the words stuck somewhere in your throat—because the truth was, you did like sunghoon. probably more than you should.
“so you think i should just tell him?”
sunoo looked up from his screen, tilting his head. “do you like him?”
you nodded, lips pressing into a thin line. “yeah,” you admitted softly, almost embarrassed by the way your chest fluttered around it. “i do… he’s just so easy to be around. not like i planned it or anything.”
his expression softened, the teasing in his eyes faded into an understanding. “aw, then tell him,” he said simply with a shrug. “it’s probably mutual, anyway. i can feel it.”
you laughed under your breath, tapping your fingertips against your laptop’s palm rest area. “right… i don’t want to keep wondering if he feels the same either,” you sighed, shoulders dropping. “i just don’t wanna make things weird between us if it goes south,”
“he’s… important to me.”
sunoo leaned back, nodding. “if it’s real, it won’t get weird. and even if it does, sunghoon will make sure it isn’t.”
you didn’t know why—but that gave you the little boost you needed to let sunghoon know how you felt that night.
“—sorry, that was probably so sudden,” you said quickly, words tumbling out before you could stop them, “i just—ugh, this is embarrassing.” you fingers twisted the edge of your sleeve, and you looked everywhere but at him. “you don’t have to say anything. i just didn’t want to keep it in anymore, and i’m sorry if this makes things weird—”
“wait, wait wait wait,”
sunghoon’s eyes widened in disbelief, his lips parted slightly. “wait,” he said again, letting out a breath of chuckle. “you’re serious?”
you nodded, cheeks warm. “yeah,” you managed, trying to laugh, though it came out shaky. “i know it’s stupid, i just—”
“it’s not stupid.”
sunghoon leaned closer, the corners of his mouth twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to smile or not. his heart felt like it was beating everywhere—in his throat, his hands, his skull. “yn,” he said, swallowing the hunger in his throat.
“i feel the same way.”
you blinked, caught off guard by his answer—and the way his voice trembled ever so slightly. “you… what?” you asked, half laughing in disbelief.
sunghoon’s lips parted, his chest rising. “...yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “for a while now, actually.”
your heart felt like it might burst out of your ribs. “why?” you asked suddenly without thinking, still dazed, a nervous grin tugging at your lips. “why do you like me?”
he huffed a soft laugh, his eyes darting away as if the question embarrassed him. “that’s—you first.”
you groaned. “what? nooo, you can’t just deflect like that.”
sunghoon shrugged, smiling faintly. “i asked second. besides, i probably like you first than you do me.”
“fair,” you rolled your eyes playfully, looking down at your bowl of rice. “honestly… you’re just so easy to be around. i’m comfortable, and you’re—kind… and quiet, in the best way possible…”
his eyes softened as he watched you, propping his chin on the heel of his palm. “that’s all?”
“what do you mean that’s all!” you laughed, throwing him a look.
“i don’t know,” sunghoon said, grinning now, shrugging as he pulled his chair closer. “just thought you’d say something about how good–looking i am too.”
you let out a small snort, resting your cheek on your palm on the table. “fine. you’re handsome too. but that’s just a bonus.”
he laughed, his eyes crinkle like crescent moon. “your turn,” you said, nudging your chin playfully. “why do you like me?”
sunghoon tilted his head, considering. “aside from the obvious—how pretty you are,” he began, voice light but eyes sincere. “i think it’s just who you are. you’re… soft about life, but not weak. you care about the small things, so caring, considerate, lovely,”
he laughed a little under his breath, tilting his head slightly like he’s in awe. “when i’m with you, it’s… quiet in my head, but i also just can’t stop thinking about you.”
you blinked at him, caught between smiling and forgetting how to breathe. “that’s…” you trailed off, searching for words. “probably one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”
sunghoon’s lips curled, shy but sure. “then i’ll keep saying them, if it means you’ll keep looking at me like that,”
“but before i do all that… can i be your boyfriend, yn?”
——
one would think that sunghoon would settle after this—after getting what he’d wanted which was you. after being allowed closer, after becoming yours in a way he used to only fantasise and dream about.
one would think he’d calm down. be normal. relax now that he didn’t have to secretly snoop into your apartment or eavesdrop to your conversations just to know how your day was going. now, you were the one who told him everything—gave him your spare key, let him borrow your stuff and even let him put his toothbrush in your bathroom just incase.
but the truth was—dating you only made it worse for him.
because before, he had to imagine which could only go so far.
but now he got to see.
now you waited for him on your couch in tiny tank tops without overthinking if sunghoon thought you were seducing him, now you tied your hair up in front of him and exposed the slope of your neck without a second thought. now you sit between his legs on the floor while you fold laundry—his jaw clenched because your back, the curve of your spine was all his to view.
when before you hid your softness around him—now you trusted him with it.
and sunghoon didn’t know how to handle that.
being allowed to love you didn’t soothe the obsession. it only fed it, watered it, growing it into something even bigger, heavier, and hungrier. the closer you got, the more it was clear to him: sunghoon needed you inside him. not in that way—but you needed to be beneath the layers of his skin, threaded through the muscle, fused to the marrow of his bones.
sunghoon loved you, but not in the gentle way you wanted.
“o—oh god, hoonie, your mouth,” you gasped, arching your back against his mattress as your grip tightened around his locks. sunghoon’s dick twitched at your moanings, his hand travelled up to cup your soft tits in his large palms, the flesh spilling from between his fingers.
sunghoon kissed and nibbled the outline of your panties and your inner thighs, his sharp canines tugging at your skin and leaving teeth marks on it. his thumbs grazed and flicked your perky nipples. he’s such a tease—purposely avoiding the wet patch on your panties just centimetres from his lips.
your pussy twitched and pulsed, and if it wasn’t for sunghoon’s arms pinning your folded thighs down, they would've started trembling from how needy you were getting. “baby please, don’t tease me,” you whined, breath hitching in your lungs.
your boyfriend smirked and nuzzled his face into the warmth of your inner thigh, darting his tongue out to finally give your clothed entrance kitten licks. god, you tasted so sweet, so wet for him, so desperate.
and just finally, he plated a kiss on your cunt. you whimpered, hips jerking up slightly. sunghoon pinched your nipples like a warning to stay low—your fingers curling around his locks. “calm down, baby, let me enjoy this,” he murmured against your pussy, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.
sunghoon gave your kitty a few more kisses before hooking his finger beneath the waistband, sliding it down and bunched loosely beneath your knees, caught around both legs. you shivered at the cold air hitting your slicky cunt, sunghoon’s warm breath against it not helping at all either.
“whoa,” he took a long, nice inhale of your natural scent, saliva pooling in the back of his throat. fuck—not only did you look good, but you smelt good too. sunghoon wondered how you tasted like—though he’d rather take his time with you, savouring every inch instead of rushing a single bite.
“my honey’s so gorgeous,” his breath was heavy as he licked his lips, salivating with the way your hole twitched, walls clamping around nothing. “all this for me.”
you squirmed, heat rushing to your cheeks as sunghoon took his time enjoying the view—all self–conscious and horny. your hips trembled as they tried to shut, but sunghoon’s wrist anchored it down as he played with your nipples. “don’t… don’t look at it like that…”
disregarding you, sunghoon leaned and darted his tongue to lick at your needy cunt, all wet and dripping. he licked long strips between the lips before the shorter ones, the tip of his tongue tickling and flicking your little pea of nerves.
you gasped softly, lips parted, tipping your head back against the mattress. “hngh! sunghoon—!” you squirmed, toes curling in the air as sunghoon began french–kissing your cunt, molding and moving his lips against the labia like it’s your lips. the tip of his nose kept brushing against your sensitive clit.
shit felt so, so, so good. both for you and for him. sunghoon’s long, skilled tongue and mouth that made out with your cunt, his soft palms that tugged, pinched, and flicked your pretty perky nipples, his occasional soft moans, grunts, groans, and breath hitting your naked pussy.
and of course, for sunghoon—this was heaven. the ravenous kind of paradise. no wonder why adam and eve did what they did to the apple—when something looks that forbidden, that soft, that sweet, that appetising, how could anyone resist sinking their teeth in?
your pussy was so meaty, so fleshy. it felt like eating and biting into a really, really juice steak with juices dripping out. shit, sunghoon could devour this cunt all day and night long. with your sweet, honey dripping moanings and whimperings too.
nibbling here and there, sunghoon ran his tongue up and down, back and forth, lapping, slurping your folds before attaching himself to your clit where he sucked and tugged it. your moans grew louder, and you could only pray to god that your neighbours were out.
“oh god, just like that, hoonie, just like that,” you cried out, bucking your hips with your limited movement against sunghoon’s handsome face. he grunted, the vibration from his voice sending shivers through you. “so needy,” he chuckled, plunging his tongue into your throbbing hole, nose pressed against your clit as he practically shoved his face into his meal.
running your hand through his hair, you tangled them again, giving it a tug forward. your boyfriend picked up his pace, thrusting his tongue in and out of you like it’s his cock, curling the muscle to press on that soft, gummy spot in your cunt.
you tensed up, shivering, legs trembling in the air as your breath hitched. “hngh—! hoonie! there, there, there, oh god, there, baby,” you pleaded, writing beneath his grip on your boobs. his lips never stopped working either—it slurped and sucked your cunt noisily, tongue exploring the domain of your cunt.
trembling, you began suppressing your moans by biting the back of your hand, tears welling in your eyes as the pressure began to build up—overstimulation washing over you. “uh—fffu, hnghh…” you whimpered, incoherent words spilling from your lips.
sunghoon didn’t care that he practically couldn’t breathe properly from being suffocated by your sweet pussy—he loved the feeling, more than anything he’s ever felt before. 23 years of being alive, and nothing could ever top this high.
“fuck, mhh,” he muffled in your cunt, your walls spasming around his tongue. you gyrated against sunghoon’s mouth, rubbing your wet pussy on his face—making a mess. he thrusts and curved his tongue along your walls, dragging the tip of his tongue as his loops made sloppy wet sounds. your walls contracted and pulsated.
“hoonie—!” you cried out, back arching, legs tensed in the air. you’re so close to cumming it’s crazy—your whole body quivered, tingling, quaking, toes curling, hand tightened around his hair while the other biting down on your skin hard.
feeling you getting close, sunghoon grazed his teeth on your pussy, making your stomach pulsate at the sensation. your breath stuttered—shallow and uneven and heavy and short—each exhale catching on the rise of the heat building in your belly.
sunghoon slid one hand from your tit down to your abdomen where he pressed his palm flat on the flesh, pressuring into the soft give of your stomach. your stomach fluttered under his palm, a tight, hot pull low in your belly made your breath stumble. everything felt too close, too overstimulating, too much. “n—not there, ‘m gonna cum, hoonie, i’m gonna cum—!”
throwing your head back, a silent cry left your throat. you clamped down on your bottom lip to keep any noise from leaving your mouth—quickly reminding yourself that you don’t live by yourself. “mhh!” an intense wave rushed through your entire body, arching your back in pleasure—you release both your creamy orgasm and squirt on your boyfriend’s face.
your thighs trembled as sunghoon pressed your abdomen harder, forcing all liquids to come out of your body. sunghoon continued fucking your cunt with his tongue, slurping, sucking, gulping down straight down his throat.
his adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped down.
“hnghh, mhh—! sunghoon!” you whimpered, crying out. your legs threatened to squeeze around his head, hips bucking against his face as you chased your high. his nose brushed between your folds.
everything dripped down his face to his chin, sunghoon pinched the fat on your stomach to ground himself as he lapped his tongue flat on your pussy. you tasted so, so, so fucking good—sweeter than any fruit he’d ever bitten into, sweeter than any dessert he’d tasted. your liquid kept sliding down his throat like it never ended as he drank it all—he swore his eyes went crossed.
like a starving animal getting a mouthful yet still not satisfied, sunghoon did something no creature of instinct ever could—he hungered past your body, craving the soul beneath the skin.
sunghoon bit down—clamping his canines and row of perfect teeth into the meaty flesh of your cunt. it bit down sharply, the way one would bite down their steak, hard enough for the skin to split with a wet squelching noise. he held the bite, jaw locked, feeling the pulse beneath the meat throb against his tongue.
alive, alive, alive.
sunghoon pulled back an inch where the wound yawned open before him—the muscle dark and wet, a ribbon of blood spilled free, thick and crimson metallic, tracing the curve of his lower loop before dripping in a slow, deliberate line down his chin. your blood clung to the sharp line of his jaw, then fell in a perfect scarlet bead onto the sheet between your thighs.
oh this was it—sunghoon savoured it, tilting his head up so the blood would slide along the hollow of his throat, pooling at the notch of his collarbone. the taste coated his tongue: iron and salt and sweetness, with your chunk of flesh in his mouth, where he bit, chewed, grinded it against his molars like a really, really chewy meat.
the first mouthful was revelation: warm, velvet muscle parting under his teeth. sunghoon leaned to drag his tongue over the open wound, slower time time, savouring the layers of your flesh beneath your skin.
sunghoon pressed his face into the wound, nose buried in the open wound, and inhaled. this scent—sex, blood, and you—he wanted to bathe in if it was possible. sunghoon wanted to open you up, crawl inside like a reversed baby coming out of their mother’s womb—he wanted to live there and live under your skin.
another lick, a gush of blood escaped and spread on his tongue, clinging to his teeth like syrup. sunghoon sucked gently while he munched down on your flesh, breaking nerves and venules apart with a grind of molars. your muscle fibre tore like silk.
ah, so this is what you taste like.
he bit again, teeth scraping your skin where your inner thigh met. the skin here was thinner; it parted like how you would tear a paper—a new river of blood spilled free, tracing the corners of his mouth, hollowing his collarbone.
he didn’t immediately swallow, letting the flesh sit on his tongue warmly.
he would never be hungry again, he would never be empt—
“sunghoon—?”
you panted, your eyes glistening with tears, wide and glassy, pupils blown from the aftershock of your climax. your thighs trembled, the sheets beneath you were soaked—not with blood, but with the slick of your release.
your fingers were still clawed at his hair, trying to pull him up, but he stayed buried between your legs, mouth still latched to the soft inner fold of your thighs where the skin was flushed crimson.
not from the bite marks where he’d bitten, but from the bruising suction of his lips, the scrape of his teeth, and the relentless drag of his tongue.
the fantasy had bled so deep into reality that when sunghoon finally lifted his head, his lips were swollen and wet, shining with your juices, his saliva. a thin string of saliva and arousal stretched from his mouth to the tender spot he’d been devouring, snapping only when he blinked, like waking from a fever dream.
“it… it hurts,” you whispered, voice cracked and trembling. “can you… come here… please?”
sunghoon’s breath hitched and he couldn’t even mutter an apology as much as he wanted to. he crawled up your body on shaky arms, and when he hovered over your face, you saw it—that feral glint flickering in his eyes, the way his tongue kept darting out, licking his lips.
you cupped his jaw with trembling fingers. a tear slipped down your cheek. this was the first time he looked like someone else. “you okay?” you breathed.
your boyfriend leaned in, pressed his forehead to yours, and said the truth with the softest smile.
“never better.”
——
you can be on a diet for only so long before you get really, really hungry again.
if you never confessed to sunghoon (months ago), you’d never know that he was so… clingy. he got that cute, shy–boyish way about him, sure—but he also couldn't just stop touching you. always tugging you closer by the hem of your shirt, always slipping his fingers between yours even when you were just walking to take the trash out, always resting his chin on your shoulder.
sunghoon’s favourite thing to do was pressing his fingers against your pulse.
sometimes on your wrist to check if you were real and alive. sometimes under your jaw where the sudden movement made your breath catch. sometimes against the inside of your thigh when he thought you wouldn’t notice, waiting for that jump under his fingertips.
sunghoon swore your pulse gave him morse code that told him you’re—alive, alive, alive.
he liked knowing you were alive under his hands.
he liked knowing you were still alive because of him.
sometimes it creeped you out, but lately…. it’s been a lot.
you can hold your breath for a while, but eventually your lungs will start begging for air.
“sunghoon,” you said, mumbling against his bare chest as he held you in his arms. your boyfriend replied with a soft hum, fingers playing with the lock of your hair. “...i think we need a break,” you said—quiet, careful, distracted.
sunghoon blinked. a little crease forming between his brows. he pulled back, immediately propping himself up on his elbow so he could see your face better.
“what… break?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper like he was afraid he’d misheard you.
you swallowed, looking away. “just some space… just—just a little. we’re not breaking up, i just need some—”
“space? from me?” he even points to himself. wishing there was someone else you’re talking about. “but… why? did i do something?”
you opened your mouth, but the words tangled on your tongue. you could feel his eyes on you—almost frantic. you didn’t want to tell sunghoon he’d been clingy, too much. you didn’t want your boyfriend to change himself… but then again, you didn’t feel good about lying.
“i just…” you tried again, an uneasy gut forming in your stomach. “hoonie, you’ve just been all over me lately. i just need to breathe a little.”
sunghoon’s shoulder stiffened. his fingers, which had been resting lightly on your waist, curled in resistance from grabbing you and holding you in place. “all over you?” he echoed, disbelief laced in his tone. “i am all over you. i love you, isn’t that what i’m supposed to do?”
his eyes searched your face like he was trying to find the part where you were joking. space shouldn’t be a word that applies to him. when you didn’t respond, sunghoon let out a weak laugh. “baby, i don’t… understand,” he admitted, voice softening.
“how can you need space from me? we’re finally together, we finally get each other.” sunghoon sat up straighter, leaning against the frame. “i’ve waited for us for so long. why would you want distance now? what do you mean i’m all over you?”
“if i’m being too much, you can just… tell me. i’ll fix it. i’ll be better. i’ll do anything. just don’t—” his voice caught, barely. “don’t pull away.”
you felt the weight of his desperation settle thickly. his need wasn’t loud or violent; it was quiet, pleading, woven into every tiny movement he made. his thumb brushed over your shoulder like he was trying to reassure himself you were still there.
he didn’t need to fix himself. he didn’t need to apologise or shrink or adjust anything just to accommodate you. you weren’t asking him to be smaller or softer or different. but god, the way he looked at you made the guilt bloom sharp and sour in your throat.
“hoonie…” you murmured, sitting upright. “you don’t get it…” you tug on your bottom lip, finding the right words to tell him. “i need time to get my head straight. i don’t want these thoughts—that you’re being too much to take a toll on me.”
his expression twitched, not with anger, but confusion. “then i just stop being too much, then.” he shrugged like it was that simple. was as easy as flipping a switch. you frowned, feeling almost disrespected. “sunghoon,” you murmured—but he leaned forward.
“i can tone it down,” he insisted. “i won’t hold you as much, won’t cling, won’t—” his voice cracked for just a fraction. “won’t touch you, if that freaks you out.”
“no,” you exhaled, heat rising in your chest. “you’re hearing what you want to fix. not what i’m saying.”
“how is that wrong? i’m trying. what am i supposed to do?”
just like that—? “you’re ignoring how i feel,” you shot back, fingers curling the blanket. “i’m telling you i need space, and the first thing you say is that you’ll change for me. i’m not trying to ask you to be a different person.”
his jaw tensed, frowning deeper. ”well—what am i supposed to say? okay, go ahead, leave me alone? that’s insane.”
you blinked, stunned. “so my feelings are insane now?”
“that’s not what i said.”
“but that’s how it sounds.” you countered, heart pounding against your chest. “you make it feel like what i need doesn’t matter unless it lines up with what you want.”
sunghoon’s eyes widened. “that’s not fair. i always think about you.”
“exactly!” you said, voice cracking. “you think about me so much you don’t leave any space for me to think about myself.”
his lips parted, breath catcing—because he hadn’t expected that from you. he didn’t expect you to raise your voice, or be so angry about what he think he did right.
you dragged a hand through your hair, visibly frustrated. “it makes me feel disrespected when you say things like that. like my boundaries don’t matter.”
sunghoon shook his head quickly. “what—? no, that’s not tru—”
“then listen,” you said firmly, removing the covers off your body. “i’m asking for a break. not a breakup. i need it, and you need to respect that.” getting off his bed, you take your items—phone, bracelets, and glasses—from his bedside table.
your boyfriend swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “i don’t know how to do this,” he murmured, voice breaking. “i don’t know how to be away from you.”
the front door slammed shut, the sound ricocheting through the apartment.
you had actually walked away from him.
——
“you did what you gotta do,” wonyoung said, tossing you a towel as she settled beside you on the couch. her apartment was the embodiment of her, all soft and warm.
you sighed, groaning as you stretched your limbs above your head. “i know, i know… i just—”
the guilt swelled up in your chest, thick and heavy. “i feel awful, wony. he looked so… wrecked. it felt like i kicked a puppy.”
she chuckled softly, shaking her head. “yeah, a very clingy, tall, big puppy who doesn’t understand boundaries.” she leaned her head back, eyes narrowing slightly. “it’s been weeks, he’ll come around.”
you frowned, leaning your head back as well on the backrest. “he didn’t take it well,” you murmured, staring at the ceiling. “i’ve never seen him look like that. wonder what he feels now…”
your friend let out a slow exhale. “yeah, but you needed the break. i mean… you know i’m not his biggest fan.”
you hugged the towel around your shoulders. “i know that. he’s not bad—”
“i didn’t say he’s bad,” she cut in gently. “i’m just glad you decided to draw some line. he’s so intense and possessive sometimes. you’ve been stressed for weeks before this. that’s not normal.”
you sunk deeper into the couch. yeah—it wasn’t just you who noticed how sunghoon changed after getting together with you. wonyoung, sunoo—his friends did too.
wonyoung noticed it first. she’d give you little looks when she saw the marks on your skin that you failed to cover up. not hickeys—those are still considerably normal. bite marks. actual teeth marks. sunoo’s brows knitted so tightly you thought they’d fuse together when sunghoon had gotten up to follow you to the bathroom. even heeseung—who you would assume wouldn’t care so much once said with an awkward laugh, “he’s… really into you, huh?”
you had brushed every comment away then. it was just young, new, eager, overwhelming love. but now, sitting on wonyoung’s couch with guilt sitting like a stone in your chest, you wonder why you didn’t acknowledge it sooner.
he wasn’t just clingy.
he was spiraling, and you’d gotten caught in the center of it.
——
have you ever had something so good you couldn’t stop thinking about it after?
you were like one of those rare delicacies one would stumble upon once in their life, the kind that ruins everything else—because after having it once, nothing else compares. nothing else satisfies.
sunghoon stuffed himself full with all kinds of sweets, spice to numb his tongue, salt that gave him migraines—jerk himself off that he swore he’d nothing left inside, grind against his bolster, fucked his fist, folded his pillow into two and fucked the hole it made—to your voice, your clips, your face, your stuff that he stole—cum on your shoe outside your door, on the cookie you baked that’s been in his fridge longer than it should.
he’s still hungry.
the more distance you put between you and him, the more violently he remembered. like hunger after a long journey, teeth aching for something familiar again. you weren’t just someone he loved, you were the first thing that made him understand obsession.
you were the person who made sunghoon the way he was. you were the person who made sunghoon realised he might be a—
cannibal.
it speaks to the carnal human desire to be touched and remain impossibly close to another person.
“hoonie?”
sunghoon shuddered at your soft voice. you’re still alive—his lips trembled as tears welled in his eyes. “yn,” he swallowed. “i—i missed you,” he choked, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt. “i really can’t… i really, really, can’t do this anymore.”
“i feel so sick without you. i can’t eat, i can’t do sleep, i can’t do anyt—”
his voice dissolved into a harsh exhale, his chest rising and falling with the frantic rhythm of someone who’s trying not to break down.
something about him made you open the door wider, taking his hand in yours. “hoonie…” your other hand rose to cup his cheek, always so gentle. you knew it must’ve hurt him, but you didn’t know it was to this extent—he looked so… devastated.
sunghoon looked like his world crumbled apart.
“come inside.” you murmured, gently tugging him in. your boyfriend stumbled inside, eyes glassy and wild. as the door clicked shut behind him, he felt it settle into his bones—he would never be able to let you go.
you should never feed the hunger that was supposed to just starve and rot.
“‘missed you so much,”
“i missed you so fucking much,” sunghoon nipped the shell of your ear, lifting your hips up to tug you closer, drawing your bodies together. you let out a soft yelp, wrapping your arms around his heck. “mh—!”
your boyfriend darted his tongue out to lick the curve of your ear, tracing the delicate shell—the triangular fossa, down to your concha and just flicking the inside—you squirmed, tilting your head away but sunghoon caught it, squishing your cheeks to keep your head still.
“it tickles—!” you gasped, the laugh breaking into a breathy moan as his sharp teeth grazed the love, not biting, just holding. his tongue followed the path again, wetter and slower this time, mapping the ridge and hollow.
this cartilage, this pulse—mine to keep.
sunghoon’s warm breath entered your ear as he kept grinding his cock between your clothed pussy lips. the two of you were so dying to fuck—but sunghoon wanted to foreplay first. “stay still baby,” he rasped, sucking the antitragus—the pointed cartilage bump on your outer ear.
his mouth travelled down to nip at the soft hollow just beneath your ear, that fragile cradle where your pulse beat visibly if sunghoon squinted his eyes. his teeth closed gently, the skin dimpled, then released with a soft, wet pop; he chased the spot with his tongue, flicking the tip around it, lapping at the warmth as he darkened the mark.
yeah—this too, his pulse.
sunghoon nudged your panties aside with the head of his cock, rubbing the mushroom head between your labia, rubbing it up and down your pussy lips. he dipped his head just enough to stretch your cunt before pulling it out, smearing your juices all over your cunt.
you whimpered in frustration as your breath hitched, “hoonie, please—please fuck me right now baby,” your back arched in desperation—needy for his cock that you’ve longed for for weeks. “need your cock inside me, please,” you pleaded desperately.
not sure if it was your fervent begging, or sunghoon’s meal time that grumbled, but he obliged. sunghoon slid his cock inside, stretching your pussy with the best kind of burn sensation. he buried his face into the crook of your neck as he groaned, the warmth of your cunt engulfed his throbbing cock.
“fuck, you’re s’tight,” he murmured, tugging on your skin with his canine. you moaned out, tightening your grip around his neck as the discomfort emerged. “h—hngh! wait, wait,” you gasped, mind fumbling to focus on his cock or his lips. “you’re so big, fuck,”
slowly, sunghoon began to pull his hips back, then thrusted forward as gentle as he could. the pain subsided as he continued to move, and it started to feel good—like how it’d been feeling at this while.
you missed your boyfriend so much.
sunghoon raised his head from your neck, the other hand that’s not propping himself beside your head played with your tender tit, fondling, squeezing, squishing the flesh. “you feel so amazing.” he murmured, leaning to kiss you again. kissing might be his favourite thing to do, afterall—
a kiss is the beginning of consumption.
sunghoon moved at a pace where it’s pleasurable for the two of you, his hips pressed to your pelvis. he’s breathing deep, hurried breaths, sweat began forming at his temple. “s’deep hoonie, hngh,” you grasped his shoulders, clawing your nails into him.
“yeah?” a guttural moan escaped him, head thrown back in a second as he picked up his pace, intensifying his rhythm. “i’m about to give you more pretty girl,” the corner of his lips twitched into a smirk, leaning to feast on your neck once again.
his favourite altar. sunghoon imagined the give of it—how the thin layer would split like wet parchment, how the blood would flood his tongue, how the flavour would be richer than anywhere else—he kissed harder at the thought.
and so did his cock. the head slammed and knocked against your cervix, quicker and more insistent—the bed beneath shook under the combined weight. “hngh, fuck, yn, i—” he winched at how tight your pussy clamped him down.
your muscles clenched and released, the remnant of his cock shoved inside, balls deep and slapping against the curve of your ass. “hoonie, hoonie, t’deep, too deep—” you arched your back, turning your head to nibble your bedsheet beneath.
sunghoon dismissed your pleadings, dragging his teeth along the tendon again, counting heartbeads like rosary beads with the tip of his tongue. every throb of his cock: your vein, this life. his hips stuttered as he buried his cock deeper.
do it, the hunger hissed. do it now.
do it sunghoon. do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it
do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it
he did it.
sunghoon’s jaw snapped shut like a trap.
his sharp teeth and canines punched through your skin with a crack, the carotid parted under his canines like an overripe peach, a soft hiss of surrender broke apart as the artery split and the blood surged and squired all over.
the copper iron taste hit his tongue in a scalding flood, sweeter and alive, and real with the frantic drum of your pulse—before your screams did.
“ahh—!” your body jerked beneath him in a single, shocked spasm, and the motion only drove his teeth deeper until his upper molars kissed the bottom ones. a sudden, scalding gush flooding the hollow of your neck, spilling down your collarbone in thick waves. you felt it leaving you and straight being sucked into his mouth into greedy, rhythmic pulls—
much like the rhythm of his hips rocking against yours.
your vision tunneled, the ceiling blurred. “sunghoon! sunghoon—!” you cried out, body thrashing, fingers clawing at his shoulders, nails dragging his skin red and drawing blood, but your limbs were already going heavy, agonisingly slow.
this isn’t real, your mind screamed.
“fuck, mmh, fuck,” sunghoon moaned as he lapped his tongue over the open wound, sticking the muscle inside where it wriggled around your flesh. he collected drops of your blood like communion.
his cock grew at the taste—he couldn’t even move anymore, just kept it buried warm and comfy around your warmth, throbbing and pulsing each time a gush of your blood entered his stomach.
your boyfriend pulled back slowly, like a man surfacing from deep water.
his face was ruined. horrific.
blood coated in his mouth in a glossy, obscene mask—dripping from his chin in slow ropes that splattered onto your chest, trailing down the side of your tits and landed on your collarbone. it streaked his cheeks in wild, smeared acts, clung to his lashes in clumps, painted his sharp jaw in dripping crimson.
“yn…” his lips were swollen, split at the corner from the force of the bite. when he smiled, his teeth gleamed red. “you taste fucking amazing.”
his eyes were blown wide, pupils swallowing the brown, reflecting the lamplight like a… like a madman. a low, guttural laugh rumbled in his chest as he dragged his tongue through the blood.
you were raggedly, shallowy breathing—still alive.
your hand fluttered weakly to your neck where your fingers brushed the wet, pulsing ruin that left a hole of the bite. white–hot pain exploded behind your eyes. “sunghoon—” your voice cracked, barely a whisper. “what… why did you—”
your pussy twitched, unintentionally clamped around him. sunghoon winched, tilting his head before leaning in. his forehead pressed to yours as he brought his hand to squish your cheeks, smearing crimson across your skin like paint.
“shhh,” he murmured, “you’re okay.”
sunghoon kissed you, his balls smacked against the curve of your ass with powerful thrusts, the tip of his cock delved so deep you swore it went past your womb. “hngh—!” you whimpered, his mouth crashed over yours. the taste exploded across your tongue and went straight to your brain.
so dizzying you felt the room spinning. all of it you, all of it his. his lips were swollen, warm, sticky, thick from the mess of your neck, and when he pressed harder, slipping his tongue inside—the wound on your throat throbbed in pain.
your hands weakly tried to push him off—digging your nails into his flesh, but it was nothing compared to the impact he had on you. it’s so painful, it’s crazy—
sunghoon’s teeth caught the corner of your mouth where he bit down again, sharp and sudden, the soft flesh of your lower lip splitting under the pressure. your eyes widened in horror as fresh bead of blood welled up down your chin.
“this is it,” he moaned, rasping as he sucked it cleaned, tongue curling around the flappy skin where he tore a piece off, munching on it. so… chewy, so porky… “‘this is t’taste,” his tongue traced the path of the tear he’d shed.
even whimpering felt weird—your mouth opened a little wider at every attempt that you realised shutting up might just be better. tears escaped your eyes, mixed with the blood smeared on your face. salty and irony, salty and irony—it’s painful.
everything’s painful. your neck’s throbbing and hissing, your mouth felt weird and swollen, the corner of your lip stinging where his teeth had split it open, you’re so horrified and aghast your pussy squeezed his growing cock.
a broken sob tore from your chest. tears spilled hot and fast, cutting clean tracks. your hands shook as they flew to your neck, putting pressure on the wound where you tried to stop the bleeding and the pain surging.
“it hurts—” you choked, body heaving and jerking and shivering. “it hurts s’much,” another sob, louder, wetter—you hoped the neighbours were here this time, shoving and forcing themselves inside your apartment and save you. your body curled in on itself, shoulders shaking, painful breath hitching in sharp, panicked gasps.
sunghoon’s eyes twitched, his spine straightened, looking down on you wrecked. split mouth, blood–slick chin. your sobs grew louder as your chest heaved in pain, exhaustion dragging you under. your fingers even inserted themselves into the wound because blood just won’t stop spilling.
“just a little,” your boyfriend dug his nails into the soft part between your ribs, burying his nails until the skin split with a wet ripping sound. “it won’t hurt,” the flesh parted like warm butter, a line of blood welling up. he pressed deeper, the heat of peritoneal cavity just beneath,
his fingers curled, hooked, and pulled.
your skin tore like a peeling fruit. warm viscera spilled into his palm. the small intestine glistened, pearlescent and alive and warm, steaming. sunghoon’s salvating—he swallowed the lump in his throat as he lifted it to his mouth like a newborn.
sinking his teeth into the delicate wall of your intestine, the taste was obscene—the faint sweetness of bile, the tang of blood, the earthy warmth of your core that had never seen light. that part that held your breath, food, and life.
sunghoon chewed slowly, reverently, blood dripping along his chest and stomach and abs and abdomen, down to your cunt—where his dick disappeared inside your tight hole. the tissue burst between his molars, the fluid flooding his tongue in sweet rush.
he bit it like steak pieces, swallowing.
cannibalism is the most stomach-churning version of possession.
“won’t hurt you,” your boyfriend murmured, pupils blown wide. he leaned to press his blood slick mouth, giving your wound open kisses. his tongue delved into the wound of your stomach, lapping at the slick walls, the coiled organs,
everything that had once been you—
“inside me now,” he whispered, burying his face between your torn ribs. “forever.”
the hunger had been appeased.
there was no desperation claiming at his ribcage now. no frantic ache in his chest. no restless, twitching need to hold you closer until he couldn’t breathe. consuming you—talking all of you into him—he had become calm.
anchored.
peaceful, even.
your body laid open beneath him like a split, overripe, ruined peach.
your eyes were wide and lifeless, soulless as death claimed you—matte pupils fixed on the ceiling. the wound in your abdomen yawned wide, intestines spilled out like how a cotton would when the plushie is torn, pooling across your tummy and bedsheet.
sunghoon pressed a trembling hand to his chest, right over the heart.
beat–beat.
beat–beat.
that rhythm—your rhythm, now his as well.
that long, dragging craving that had haunted him worse than devils and ghouls, the rabid need that made him shake—all of it had dissolved into this fullness. that blissful numbness.
if hunger was a torment, then this was salvation.
he had eaten you whole.
in his imagination.
“hoonie…?” you whimpered softly, squirming beneath him as you put your hands on his chest to create some distance. sunghoon blinked himself to reality—pupils going back to normal size, lips parting open with saliva pooling at the back of his throat.
he looked down on you, your eyes glassy, cheeks puffed and flushed, eyelashes wet with tears clumps—he’d long cum inside of you, cock still buried like he wasn’t letting any of his lovemilk oozing out.
you came as well—orgasm drowned and rushed you like a waterfall, squirting and wetting your mattress. your chest heaved for air, panting, chest rising
sunghoon’s eyes darted towards your neck—the skin flushed rose, full of his lovebites and marks but nothing wounded. no blood, no bite… he swallowed hard, throat clicking. then his eyes darted towards your lips, no tear, no split. just your perfect, lovely lips—glistening with shared saliva from kissing.
then under your chest. still intact, still sewn together, rising and falling in soft, exhausted waves.
he exhaled slowly—the sound trembling in the quiet.
you were still alive. you were untouched in all the ways his mind had ravaged you just moments before. “hah—” he chuckled dryly, running his clean hand through his face where wiped down his sweats.
in the back of his throat, he could still taste your flesh between his teeth.
you reached out to brush his strands sticking onto his skin. how lonely your boyfriend must’ve felt throughout the break period—how could you ever do that to him?
swallowing the guilt in your throat, you sucked the inside of your cheek, thumb caressing the apple of sunghoon’s flushed cheek. a low, rumbling sound vibrated in your tummy.
love, after all is hunger. when one is overwhelmingly consumed by their feelings, they believe that the only way to truly possess their beloved is to make them a part of themselves—literally.
𓊆박성훈 x fem reader𓊇 i found you, and felt so strongly. "i want to eat you, i want to eat you, i so want to eat you." and where i nibbled you, and i devoured climax, pleasure. everything swirls together. delicious, delicious, oh, so delicious. i truly have become one with you. sucking on your bones, i will love you. ─ 狐の嫁入り, masa works ⫶ 𐔌masterlist꒱
𓆩♡𓆪 this has been ongoing since february and i finally... finally completed it today... oh bless me. please, please, please read the warnings because i've never written something this dark and gore-y + sex scene! this is more of the thoughts + process of a sick, fucked up person ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)
word count 16k
warning advisory grotesque element: cannibalism & heavy gore (body and food horror), religious themes, stalking, obsessive behaviour, disturbing thoughts on food & eating human (descriptive & imagery), breaking in, disgusting & disturbing behaviour/thoughts by sunghoon, psychological manipulation, blood (not in the sexual intercourse), sunghoon's unstable, descriptions on tearing skin etc.
smut advisory m. masturbation, f. oral, pussy eating, tongue fucking, squirting, sunghoon has thoughts on eating you literally (descriptive) while performing sexual acts, cervix fucking, missionary, creampie, cock warming, reader said "it hurts" and "wait" but everything's consensual
viscera.
the viscera are the soft internal organs of the body located in the chest (thoracic cavity) and abdomen (abdominal cavity), including the heart, lungs, stomach, liver, and intestines.
sunghoon knew hunger before he knew love, and somewhere along the journey of his life—he began seeing hunger and love as the same thing.
the first time he was exposed to the idea was when he was a young teenager alone in his room. he was playing an online game when he accidentally clicked a shady advertisement that brought him to another website—a hentai website.
curious, adolescent, and horny, sunghoon clicked on a particular video that stood out to him. it was about a shapeshifter who fucked his lover, then got overstimulated and shifted into a big, heavy bear before biting off the head of the woman. that scene stuck and buried itself deep in the crevices of sunghoon’s mind.
how powerful, sunghoon thought; to love someone to the point of aggression.
from then, he began to believe that love is meant to be devoured and devouring. even the bible itself is full of consumption when it says—the holiest act of devotion is the ritual of eating the christ’s flesh, to drink his blood—because to love God is to consume him.
love is consumption, and faith is flesh, and it is all intertwined.
the boy also knew that in ancient greece, lovers would bite each other until they bled, which quickly became the proof of passion marked by bruised skin and torn lips. the king and queen of gods—rhea and cronus—were no strangers to hunger either. cronus swallowed his own 5 children whole as soon as rhea delivered them in fear that his newborns would one day overthrow him. there was also zeus, who swallowed metis for his own benefit—but sunghoon liked to think it was so that she could never leave him.
love was never gentle, and it was apparent in folklore too. sunghoon didn’t understand it back then why the witch fattened children before the feast, the vampire draining his lover dry, the wolf licking his sharp, fangy teeth before sinking it deep into the plush flesh of little red.
but that was years ago, he was a child back then, he screamed and cried when his little sister bit his finger. sunghoon understood it now—love was to take. love was to consume. love was to destroy.
while they were not romantic by any means, there’s a similarity, a fine line barely blurred between cannibalism and wanting to have someone be as close to you as possible, physically. both are driven by an insatiable need, an urge—although once devoured, what else is left? even then, it’s still not close enough.
——
sunghoon had seen your stuff before he saw you.
his neighbour moved out a few months ago from a job offer in another state, and for 4 months, the room was left vacant. not that he was complaining—it was better for him that way. he could play his instruments, games, have friends over, and blast music as loud as he wished to without having someone pounding on his door, telling him to shut the fuck up. for four months, he was in heaven.
but heaven on earth doesn't last forever.
and this was better than any heaven could offer.
he wasn’t curious in any way so neither him, nor you, ever introduced yourselves to one another. there was no housewarming party from you, and sunghoon didn’t bother showing up with fruitcakes.
but slowly, he started noticing. not in a friendly or neighbourly way of exchanging polite nods of acknowledgement or holding the elevator door open—hell, he didn’t even bump into you or cross paths.
no, sunghoon noticed you in the way a shadow notices the body it follows.
it started with the small things. the cardboard boxes stacked in front of your door from your move a couple days ago (that were still there, even after weeks), labeled in rushed neat handwriting, a packed delivery food hung on your doorknob, the perfume scent of white flower lingered in the air when he exited his door for morning classes.
you, to sunghoon, were just a collection and fragments of objects and moments.
then, he started noticing more than just things.
sunghoon started listening too.
the wall that separated the two rooms was thinner than anybody would like to have. so thin he could hear the sneeze you held back, your conversations with your parents, the refrigerator noise when you didn’t fully close it, your dryer signalling the end. so thin he could hear your humming to your favourite song while you were showering, the blurred and incoherent dialogues from late–night sitcoms you’d left turned on the whole night.
so thin he prayed you wouldn’t hear the things he did in the dark.
soon, sunghoon found out that you attended the same university as he did—your name printed among the rosters as his. fate hadn’t been kind to him often, but now it seemed and felt like it was cradling him.
he took forensic science, while you took education. it fits you, sunghoon thought—you were soft-spoken in the hallways when you thanked the other neighbour for leftovers, or when he had overheard you scolding your little brother for something, and sunghoon couldn’t tell if you were mad, or disappointed.
you’d make a great mother.
the first time sunghoon properly saw you, he was alone on the complex’s rooftop. a cigarette smoldered between his lips, the night sky cracked open above him. you weren’t occupied in his mind nor was he searching for you, yet there you were.
like a sacrament being offered—body and blood disguised in soft skin and breath.
walking along the entrance with your cardigan clutched tight around your frame, tote bag hanging loose off your shoulder. your steps were small, unhurried, the rhythm that told him you probably thought you were safe since you were already in the area. the cold breeze caught in your hair and pulled strands across your cheek.
sunghoon’s chest cinched tight. you’re adorable, he hummed. taking another drag of his cigarette. no, adorable is an understatement. there was something soft about the way you move, the innocence swimming in your eyes, the little push of your lip against your cheek.
how unfair, he exhaled slowly. feeling the smoke escaping his lungs. someone like you existed in the same world as him.
he watched—you were so far below despite living right next his door. sunghoon watched as your figure slipped into the building and out of sight, and he realised he was holding his breath—lungs aching not from the smoke, but from something more, something’s missing.
the ember at the tip of his cigarette had burned out completely, leaving only the taste of ash in his mouth.
the taste… so familiar—so close to what he felt when he came to the hentai he watched when he was younger.
——
you were like a disease—and sunghoon the host. it began with a single spore in his lungs that went unseen but felt–able, then multiplied with each breath until he was drowning, and all sunghoon could feel was raw ache.
you curled into his veins until every beat of his heart pumped you deeper and deeper. his body became a chamber of contagion, gnawed hollow by desire.
“—hoon, sunghoon!”
his head jerked up, thoughts breaking like glass. jake was staring at him across the cafeteria table, brows slightly furrowed. sunghoon blinked and brought his latte to his lips, snapping out of it. “you spaced out again, man. what’s gotten into you?”
sunghoon licked his lips, wetting it before shaking his head. “nothing,” he murmured, setting his cup down. “what were you saying?”
jake studied him for a moment longer, then shrugged it off. “the communication department is holding a festival this weekend for every major. there’ll be food stalls and booths and we’re all going to support sunoo. figured you might want to tag along.”
sunghoon pursed his lips, stirring the liquid in his cup with the flimsy wooden stirrer. yeah—he had no plans for the weekend except bedrotting and completing the endless tedium of reports. his professors were merciless with deadlines and memorising blood samples and decomposition stages—but he figured he could make time for some fun.
“sure,” he gave a small, practiced nod. jake smiled, already leaning back in his chair to ramble about his days. sunghoon let the words wash over him, feigning interest with the occasional hum. his mind was elsewhere but here.
sunghoon wondered what you could be doing right now. it’s lunchtime. do you have lunch in the cafeteria? crossed legs and stirring your juice and laughing with your friends? he tried to picture what you’d order. you didn’t seem like someone who’d for anything greasy—maybe something light. like a sandwich, or pasta.
what kind of meat do you like? sunghoon wondered, eyes drifting toward the untouched food on his own plate. what do girls as pretty as you even eat?
beef, maybe—rich and dark, the kind that melts apart in your mouth if cooked just right… tender, but tough if overcooked. sunghoon hated that the most. maybe chicken, simple and clean and hard to mess up. he could picture you chewing slowly, suppressing a smile. pork, though—he thought of the sweetness of it, the glaze, the stickiness that would cling to your fingers. but pork carries pathogens and parasites that are hard to kill despite being cooked.
you wouldn’t like that.
again, sunghoon imagined you savouring it—taking small bites politely, licking the sauce from your thumb—unconscious, devastating. you never realised that someone out there would’ve given anything to taste you.
“—jesus, hoon,” jake waved a hand in front of sunghoon, knocking reality into him. he blinked, swallowing the saliva he didn’t realise was pooling in the back of his throat. he straightened up, looking at jake. “yeah?”
“what time are you free this saturday?”
——
“i’ll just takeaway a salad, thank you.”
you’re a vegetarian ever since you could remember. you didn’t eat meat by choice, lived untouched by blood and bone and filth. your meals were soft in colour, greens, steamed broccoli, grains, nuts.
you preferred knowing nothing died for your sake—food that never screamed, never struggled, never bled. you ate gently, every bite was an act of mercy.
“just that?” wonyoung asked, thanking the cashier as she tapped her card on the terminal. you nodded, taking the bag from the waitress. “yeah, this is enough,” you hummed, smiling. “i really can’t afford eating too much and puking later.”
your friend nodded, linking her arm around your wrist as the two of you made your way out. “is sunoo already there? has he texted you yet?” she asked, peeking slightly from your shoulder as you fished your phone out.
“mm, hold on,” you murmured, thumb swiping across the screen. “he’s already there,” you said, glancing up at her. “he said he’d told jiwoo that we’ll be a little late.”
wonyoung grinned. “thank god. i don’t want her to nag in our ears later.”
“no one dares to nag at you, wony!”
the air was already beginning to be filled with chatter and sizzles from the food stalls lined up beneath unlit string lights. the scent of oil and spice hung heavy. you, wonyoung, and sunoo sat crowded around a small metal table, your takeaway salad box nearly empty, spork resting on the rims of your bowl.
“god, this was so good,” wonyoung sighed, leaning back in her chair. “now i have some energy to serve for the next seven hours.”
sunoo laughed, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “thanks for the meal, wony. i didn’t have time to drop by to get breakfast.”
wonyoung waved a dismissive hand. “it’s fine, don’t mention it! we prefer not rushing anyway.”
before you could respond, a voice cut through the din.
“kim sunoo!”
the three of you looked up. jake was grinning, waving as he made his way over with heeseung and sunghoon trailing behind him.
“oh, you guys are here so early!” sunoo perked up, waving them over. “yeah,” heeseung said, still standing beside jake. “we figured we’d check out the other booths before the crowd gets worse.” jake nodded, “yeah, then we’ll come back for you again during lunch.”
then, jake leaned forward slightly, eyeing your table. “man, this looks good. you got food without us, sunoo?”
“you were late,” sunoo teased, nudging his forearm playfully. “anyway, this is wonyoung, and—” he turned toward you with an easy smile. “—this is yn. my friends from the education department.”
wonyoung gave a polite wave, and you just smiled, murmuring a quick hello.
sunoo then gestured to the three boys. “and these are my high school friends—jake, heeseung, sunghoon.”
you looked up at the name, eyes briefly meeting sunghoon’s but staying the longest as he was the last one to be introduced. there was a flicker of recognition—or something close to it—but you brushed it off just quickly.
“nice to meet you,” you said softly.
sunghoon’s lips quirked into a polite half–smile. “yeah,” he murmured, voice low enough that it nearly disappeared under the hum of the crowd—meant only for you. “you too.”
like a blooming flower in rot, something unfurling where it shouldn’t. that quiet sickness—nourished by the ghost of your gaze—spread slow beneath his ribs.
he saw the crumpled paper bag from the restaurant, half–buried in the trash beside the booth. his friends were already walking ahead. “go on, i’ll catch up,” sunghoon called, forcing a small smile.
they didn’t think much of it.
when they turned the corner, sunghoon stood before the bin, his shadow looming across the metal. his fingers brushed against the paper. it still held the faint scent of greens. opening it, the container inside was empty except for smudges of sauces.
sunghoon stared for a moment too long. then, as though he couldn’t control his body, he peeled open the plastic container—and slipped the spork you’d used into his pocket.
pulse thudding in his throat—something sweet and rotten bloomed quietly in his chest.
——
sunghoon didn’t talk to you for the rest of the festival—not like there was a reason to in the first place. you were with your friends, and he was with his’. while you were doing your task in your little food stall both, he lingered somewhere in the periphery, eyes observing you handling the food.
it’s alright, he reassured himself. the two of you are neighbours. for any time sunghoon decides that he wants to talk to you, he can just knock on your door. simple. easy.
the day ended like any other.
that night, sunghoon set the spork on his desk. unwashed. the faint smell of vinaigrette still clung to it, sweet and sour. was that the flavour you liked? sunghoon thought you’d prefer something more umami.
he placed it neatly beside his keyboard, the plastic catching the lamplight.
it’s weird. it definitely was. no sane person would rummage through the bin and take a used item. especially one that had entered someone’s mouth. that’s disgusting—unsanitary, even.
sunghoon knew that. he wasn’t stupid.
but there was something about it—the evidence that you had touched something he could hold. disgusting, he thought. then again, he didn’t put it back.
in fact… he wanted to do it again.
“later?” you talked over the phone, the device pressed between your ear and your shoulder as you washed the dishes. you glanced at the clock on the wall, chewing the inside of your cheek. “no, i can’t… sorry. i promised jin–sol i’ll come over tonight to study.”
the plates made a slight clinking noise when you placed them on the dish rack, wiping your hands dry. “maybe tomorrow? it’s been almost two weeks since the festival and the data team still hasn’t sent their analysis anyway.”
“yeah, tomorrow i’ll come over. sorry, toni.”
this was it—you weren’t going to be home for a few hours. sunghoon heard it all from his room as he pressed his ear against the wall, eavesdropping. his pulse quickened when he heard the sound of your footsteps, the jingle of your keys, then the soft click of the door closing—each detail carved into his nerves.
fuck, he’s really going to do it.
sunghoon sat still for a moment before slowly creeping out of his apartment, peeking from the hallway balcony to make sure your silhouette had disappeared from turning the corner. the air outside felt heavier somehow—maybe because of what he was going to do.
he stood in front of your door. sunghoon knew where you kept your emergency key—buried beneath the wilted soil of one of the flower pots, tucked away like a secret. his fingers brushed against the damp earth, searching, soil stuck beneath his fingernails, and sunghoon only stooped when the cold metal finally kissed his skin.
the lock clicked open with a soft sound—almost too easy, he thought. sunghoon didn’t wait a second lingering there as he immediately slipped inside, not wanting to get caught by the other tenants.
your apartment was clean, smelled faintly of your detergent and something floral. a pair of cat slippers sat neatly by the entrance, an umbrella leaned against the wall. everything had its place and purpose.
he trailed his fingers along the edge of your counter. there was a mug in the sink, lipstick–stained on the rim, the water inside was just tap. your living room was small, a folded blanket on the couch, book facedown, faint indentation on the cushion where you sat.
sunghoon then took a slow step toward your bedroom door. this was the closest he had ever been to you in terms of intimacy. he’d seen you before, of course—at the festival—but this was quiet, private.
this was you with the things you left behind.
his breath caught as he turned the knob, the faint creak of hinge slicing through. the scent inside was different—warmer, more personal, it smelled like your honey shampoo, your vanilla lotion, your mist. yeah, all of those belonged on your skin, didn’t they?
sunghoon’s gaze darted across the room: your bed, slightly rumpled, cardigan draped over the chair; a bottle on the nightstand.
but it wasn’t your bedroom that he was interested in—the fridge hummed softly. that’s what he wanted to know. what you ate. what kept you alive.
“let’s see…” sunghoo crouched, fingers curling around the handle as he pulled the door open. cold air washed over him, sharp and clean, and inside—neat rows of containers, fruits sealed in public, half–finished salad bowls. your world was colourless. green and yellows, nothing red,
nothing raw.
your fridge had not a single meat to it.
his gaze lingered on a jar of olives and pickles, a small tub of hummus and greek yogurt. these food that don’t bleed when bitten into. sunghoon tilted his head. “you eat clean, huh,” he muttered, studying the paper bag of wrapped sweet potatoes.
he imagined you eating it—your tongue brushing over vegetables, your teeth never knowing what it's like ripping apart fleshes. then, sunghoon wondered what you would look like tasting something heavier, darker. filling your mouth with warmth and iron—because there was no way greens would taste good hot.
sunghoon turned away from the fridge, shutting it as his eyes drifted to the small bin beside the counter. heart pacing quick and uneven as his fingers dipped into the pile. “god…” every sound in the apartment seemed to grow louder as he rummaged through the trash bin.
pushing aside fruit peels, paper towels, plastic wrappers—sunghoon’s hand came in contact with a plastic cup. a paper straw. faintly bent, slightly wet, the tip stained a soft shade of pink. your lipstick.
the proof that your mouth had been there made his stomach twist. lifting it to his nose, sunghoon inhaled the tip of the straw—very faintly sweet of your matcha, artificial lipstick scent but you, nonetheless.
what the fuck am i doing…? the thought occurred to him as he tucked the straw into his pocket, flattening the limp paper straw. sunghoon moved through your apartment like a shadow without its owner.
the next door he opened was the bathroom—small for two, tiled, faintly damp and still wet. the mirror was fogged at the corners, toothpaste crusted by the sink. your toothbrush rested in a cup, pale bristles worn from daily use.
sunghoon’s throat felt dry as he stood before the mirror, looking everywhere but his reaction. he was ashamed, humiliated, disgusted—but fuck, he couldn’t help it. his fingers curled around the small handle, staring at it—the soft drag of bristles against your gums, pressed into your tongue—how it must’ve tasted like peach mint and saliva and you.
slowly, sunghoon brought his head up—his reflection looked wrong and calm—eyes hollowed with want as he brought the brush to his lips. the bristles grazed his teeth. it was an absurd imitation of closeness, he knew, yet something in him swelled with a trembling sort of pleasure.
is this how you taste like? part of you? the sound of bristles dragging faintly against his teeth filled the silence. sunghoon pressed it harder, dragging them across his enamel until the flavour bloomed into something he swore tasted like you and him at once.
saliva pooled, thick and warm, he swallowed alongside the leftover dried paste.
his tongue found the bristles next—slow—searching the places your tongue had pressed, the grooves where you spit had dried. each stroke only aroused his curiousity—is this the curve of your gum? is this the soft underside of your lip?
the toothbrush was making a map on sunghoon’s tongue. a low sound escaped him—half groan, half moan—when he tasted the faint iron of his own blood mixing with the mint from brushing too hard. the bristles were soaked now, darkened with the pink of his gums but still he dragged them back and forth, back and forth.
look at you, his reflection stared back at him. look at what you’re doing. sunghoon watched his mouth open, watched the toothbrush disappear between his lips like a lover’s finger. his thighs pressed together against the sudden ache, fuck, this was giving him a hard–on.
when he pulled the brush free, strings of saliva stretched and snapped. sunghoon rinsed the brush under the tap, watching the swirl down the drain like a secret. then he placed it back in its holder, bristles up, exactly where you’d left it.
sunghoon by no means is religious—but in christianity, as what he was taught when he attended a christian kindergarten and sunday churches, saints’ relics were kept, and sometimes ingested. holy fragments of the divine sealed in boxes for believers to kneel before.
a way to keep faith close, to let holiness rot beautifully in glass.
he supposed he was a devout now if you were a religion.
in the ritual of his own making—the straw, a single sock, a strand of hair snagged in a hair tie he’d found in the bedroom, a discarded band–aid carefully in tissue. small things you would never notice missing anyway.
next time, he’ll be bolder.
——
“kim sunoo!” jake’s voice cut through the chatter of the restaurant, loud enough to turn a few heads. he waved from across the table, grinning. sunoo smiled, waving back. “i brought wonyoung and yn too. figured it’d be nice.”
“that’s alright, the more the merrier anyway.” heeseung smiled, greeting the two of you. you and wonyoung sat opposite of sunoo, quietly placing your respective orders. the table got lively quickly with jake’s cheerful demeanor, and heeseung’s outgoing personality. sunghoon though, sitting at the far end, hadn’t said much, just the occasional nod and hum.
but you supposed you too, content with listening to their stories. to anyone else, sunghoon looked indifferent, disinterested. but every now and then, his eyes flickered toward you. he watched the way you gathered your hair in one hand (was it because he took your hairband?) to sip your soup, the way you laughed and leaned to everything wonyoung said.
everything you did was small and nothing remarkable, yet it caught him like static.
watching you now was strange. weird, even. sunghoon had been inside your house more than once after that night. had touched your things, had used your toothbrush and lotion, laid on your bed, pressed his palm against the hollow your body left on the sheets.
and yet, the real thing was here. so oblivious to the things that were happening to you—your apartment while you were gone. so oblivious that he was your neighbour eavesdropping to your everyday life through the thin wall. so unaware that your nail clipper and earpick had been used, shoes had been sniffed, spoons had been licked.
yeah. as long as you had zero idea about it, sunghoon should be alright.
he might be disgusting, but you’re a plain idiot.
“i’m so sorry i can’t send you back tonight, yn,” wonyoung frowned, glancing at her phone. “my sister needs me to pick her up from the station.”
you waved her off with a small laugh. “it’s fine, wony. i don’t live far.”
“still. text me when you get home, okay?” wonyoung pressed, already half turned toward her parked car. “mmhm,” you nodded, giving her a quick hug before stepping into the night.
you didn’t notice him at first. sunghoon walked a few paces behind. everyone left almost at the same time—pretending to check his phone, pretending he didn’t see you in front or the fact that he knew you guys were neighbours.
it wasn’t until you turned a corner that you caught the faint echo of footsteps matching yours. you slowed down, so did he. your fingers curled around your strap tighter, when you glanced back, you saw him—tall, eyes downcast.
sunghoon looked up then, caught your gaze—your steps faltered—and for a brief, awkward moment, the silence stretched.
“...uh,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “sunghoon, right?”
sunghoon’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, almost polite. “yeah,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “hey.”
you nodded quickly, slightly relieved that at least it wasn’t some creep or pervert or rapist. that it was a mutual… friend? someone your bestfriend knew. “do you live around here?” you asked softly, coming to a stop.
sunghoon took a few steps closer, it didn't bother you. “yeah,” he replied, gesturing with his hand toward the building across the street. “i live in that one.”
you followed his gesture, letting your gaze travel to the familiar shape of the apartment. that’s where you lived too! “what, really?” a small laugh escaped your lips. “that’s… i live there too.”
he raised his eyebrows, lips parting slightly. “you serious?” he chuckled, feigning confusion. “that’s a crazy coincidence. what room?” he added. sunghoon looked like he was genuinely curious in your eyes.
“33A, and you?”
you watched as his eyes widened just a fraction. “...32A,” he said, voice low, a shy laugh escaped him. “right next door, huh?” you blinked, a little startled by the coincidence. “yeah… oh wow—we’re literally neighbours…”
he nodded slowly, as if letting the reality settle. “that’s… uh, crazy,” he murmured, brushing another hand over the back of his neck. there was a pause, a strange tension in the air. you smiled nervously, finding yourself walking alongside sunghoon.
“how come i never noticed you?” you broke the silence, looking up at him. sunghoon glanced down at you. your eyelashes are really pretty, aren’t they? long, curved, brushing against your cheeks… your mascara sure is lucky, pressed so close to the wet shine of your eyes, kissing the thin skin every time you blink, drinking in the salt of your tears and running down your cheeks when it’s wet.
“...not sure,” sunghoon finally replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. he broke his gaze, looking forward. “i’m not home often, so…” he murmured in reply, shrugging. “how come i never noticed you?”
lies after lies.
you smiled, now it was your turn to shrug. “i’m not always home either,” you replied, tilting your head just enough for the streetlight to catch the gloss on your lower lip. “and i just moved so maybe that’s why.”
sunghoon couldn’t focus on what you were saying, his gaze snagged at the plump, shiny, imprint of your teeth where you’d bitten down earlier when you probably thought you were being followed. oh yn, the danger is closer than you thought it is.
that lip gloss, was it the one he saw on your vanity? the one he wanted to take, but it’d probably be too obvious, he thought. cherry, maybe. or vanilla, if lip gloss had scents.
sunghoon wanted to lean in, wanted to drag his tongue across that shine and taste the wax and heat and your lips. he wanted to kiss you until the gloss smeared across his mouth, until the flavour was indistinguishable from the salt of his skin. he wanted to bite down your lower lip, to hear the small startled moan you’d make when his teeth met flesh.
but of course, he didn’t. he looked away before you noticed.
“sunoo will be so surprised if he knew we were neighbours.” you giggled, a smile etched across your face. “then he’ll come over more often, just so he can hang out.” you continued, running your hand through your hair.
sunghoon just managed a soft yeah, swallowing the urge. his tongue pressed to the side of his cheek. if i take it now, you’ll know. if i take it now, you’ll run, the thought hissed.
by the time you knew it, the two of you were in the elevator heading up to the third floor.
“oh we’re here,” you said, stopping in front of your door. the old hallway light flickered once, then twice before steadied. you turned the key and the door sighed open. did you know sunghoon know where you kept your extra key?
sunghoon unlocked his door too, waiting for you to step inside first. “that didn’t feel like a long walk.” he chuckled, smiling. you smiled, leaning against the frame. “well,” you hummed, eyelashes fluttering prettily. “night, neighbour.”
he nodded, throat dry. “night.”
you hesitated then lifted your hand in a small wave. the door shut with a soft thud, then the lock slid home.
sunghoon stayed in the hallway, staring at the 33A number until it felt like they blurred. just three steps from his own door. his key scraped the lock, inside, the dark greeted him.
tomorrow, he decided. tomorrow he’d borrow sugar. tomorrow he’d stand closer. and soon, he’d taste the gloss for real. the obsession settled in his chest, it was still something he couldn’t quite name, but it had teeth now, still small but growing.
only hunger had a name, and it wanted you.
——
ever since that night, things had… shifted. subtly at first.
like magic, you and sunghoon started running into each other more often—sometimes at the garbage disposable downstairs, sometimes at the lobby mailbox, sometimes the two of you left your rooms at the same time. he’d always smile, small and reserved while you were always embarrassed to be caught at the same time.
it became a quiet routine. you’d wave when you saw him through the balcony smoking, he’d greet you in the morning, and before long, it felt strange not to see him around after… practically never seeing him at all since the past few months.
you supposed it’s true—that once you become aware of someone, you can never stop.
“hngh, fuck, fuck, fuck,”
sunghoon’s forehead rested against the thin wall that separated your apartment from his’, big hand clamped around his bigger cock as he jerked himself off. he was on his knees, legs splayed just enough for balance.
“i’m making dinner, right now,” you said, phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear. on the other line that only you heard, wonyoung asked what you were doing. it’s a friday night, and everyone was apparently too busy for a hangout.
“gym? you’re going to the gym right now?”
he let out a soft, inaudible groan under his breath silently as he pressed the palm of his hand against the hardening cock, pumping his cock back and forth with his eyes shut tightly. if he tried hard enough, he could imagine you splayed underneath him, legs spreaded—showing that pretty, meaty pussy that was all his to devour.
gym—hah, fuck, sunghoon thought. you didn’t need that. you didn’t need to lift or sweat or burn away the softness that made sunghoon so captivated to you. you were already perfect—so tender in all the right places, so soft it made his jaw ache and teeth sensitive just thinking about it.
it’d be so nice to bite you, flesh between his teeth as he grinded and dug his canines inside…
his cock throbs in his hand at the mere thought, the length of it bobbed and seemingly increased. the head of it was red and flushed, oozing out beads of precum that trailed over his hand.
“ngh, f—fuck, yn, keep talking,” he moaned softly, chest heaving, the sound barely audible against the quiet hum of his room. his breath was uneven, quick. every inhale trembled, every exhale came out in a low, broken sigh.
his cock was so achingly painful.
“he’s still bothering you? using a new number?”
his hips twitched as he began thrusting his cock in his fist like cunt, his wet cum making it easier for sunghoon to glide his cock back and forth, his other hand braced against the wall, palm pressed firm. something needed to keep him grounded as his body trembled, his forehead rested close to his wrist.
in short, hot bursts of breath, spine arched with each staggered breath as he fucked his fist. squelching noise filled the room from where his skin met the base of his cock. he wanted to sink into the thought of you, chew through the distance until there was nothing left between your body and his need.
“men are shit, anyway… did you report him to the professor?”
sunghoon increased his pace in stroking his cock, his thumb rolling around the tip of his flushed head, suppressing from cumming—he did not want to cum just yet. sunghoon was so hungry. the kind of imagination sunghoon had was not like the other guys when they jerked off to the girl they liked.
he didn’t just want to make love to you, he wanted to consume you. he wanted to more than just lick your pussy, he wanted to eat it. press his teeth on the flesh, tug on your little clit. sunghoon didn’t want to just fondle your tits, he wanted to squeeze those boobs until the flesh spilled between his fingers.
it was more than lust—it was appetite.
“oh, i cooked extra—should i send some to sunghoon? did you know he’s my ne—”
sunghoon groaned softly, painfully suppressing his moan in his stomach as he tipped his head back. “oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, ‘m cummin yn, ‘m cummin for you,” his entire body tensed, his huge cock jumped in his hand as he came, cum spurting all over his wall. he panted, shoulders dropped as the semen trailed down slowly like waterdrop.
that concluded it. sunghoon didn’t just want you—it was clear now.
he wanted to live inside your skin and be your birth and death and your beginning and end and your undoing and betterment. he wanted to eat you whole, to tear flesh by flesh, chew your skin between his teeth, grind your strands of hair, bite off your fingers and toes, and to suck off your tender meat off your bone like marrow.
sunghoon’s eyes widened, and he spiraled, eyes spinning, head gyrating. he needed to ingest you, to metabolise you in him.
you too—yeah. you can have sunghoon’s heart, if you can stomach it.
sunghoon looked down on his cum covered hand, strings of semen dripping down his digits and onto the floor. he’s ashamed and humiliated at himself, but there was nothing he wanted to do to fix it.
“—hoon? sunghoon?”
his head snapped towards the door, eyes wide and panicked, heart hammering, he scrambled, jerking his pants up and fumbling with the waistband, hands shaking as he tied the ribbon. the sound of the faucet splashing echoed through the small kitchen as he hurriedly washed his hands, water running over his skin and washing away his sins.
sunghoon opened the door before you could knock for the second time, leaning against the frame. “hey, sorry,” he tried controlling his breath, chest rose. “i was… in the bathroom.”
you smiled, shaking your head dismissively. “it’s okay, i should’ve texted. i made too much food. thought you might be hungry.”
yeah. his eyes flicked to the container in your hands—japchae. but with mushrooms and tofu instead of meat. he swallowed, forcing a casual nod. “ah… yeah, i haven’t had dinner yet anyway,” he said, stepping aside lightly.
“if you haven’t either, do you wanna eat together?”
you blinked, slightly taken aback at the offer. the thought of eating together, especially one that’s invited, almost made your stomach flutter. after a brief pause, you nodded shyly. “mmhm… sure.”
he gave a faint smile. letting you slip past him, sunghoon shut the door close, taking the container from you to place it on the dining table.
you sat across sunghoon, unpacking the japchae. “so…” you began, reaching for the chopsticks. “just what were you up to, today?” sunghoon lifted a small bundle of noodles to his mouth, looking at you from his bangs.
today? today i cum to you.
“nothing much,” he shrugged. the flavours were simple and clean. “just completed some reports and… yeah, that’s pretty much all.” he glanced as you ate, trying not to stare, yet stealing glimpses when you weren’t looking. “what about you?”
you hummed, chewing and swallowing. the munched noodles bobbed from beneath your throat. “also nothing interesting,” you chuckled, pressing your lips together. “except i just learned how to make japchae so… you’re like the first one to try.”
sunghoon let out a soft, amused hum, the corner of his lips twitching. “so i’m your test subject?”
“mm, yeah, i guess you could say that,” you replied, smirking. the tension that had hung in the room since he’d opened the door eased just a little. sunghoon tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity.
“it’s really good. but… you don’t eat meat, yn?”
you shook your head, fingers pausing. “no, ever since i can remember. i just… can’t.” your tone softened, almost apologetic, though not ashamed. “i can’t handle the blood, the… killing. knowing they suffer for me, for my own hunger—i can’t eat something that’s been hurt. it makes me feel… guilty.”
sunghoon’s gaze flickered down to his plate. of course, he thought, you were gentle, careful, soft in all the ways he wanted to consume. and yet, here you were, refusing the very thing that sunghoon might have wanted to offer—the rawness, the bite, the blood.
he forced a small nod, swallowing the strange curl of disappointment and fascination that pooled in his stomach. you didn’t want to eat living beings, yet here sunghoon was. “i… see,” he murmured, looking up at you with an understanding smile. “you’re just kind like that, yn.”
you giggled, shaking your head. “nooo, please, i’m not,” you took a sip of your drink. “besides, i didn’t grow up in seoul but in the countryside, so seeing my chickens and sheep being… a meal kinda gave me the ick.” you continued casually.
“ah,” sunghoon nodded slowly, watching the way your lips curved between words, the faint gleam of moisture on your lower lip after you took another sip. “that makes sense.”
you laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair. “yeah, i mean… i used to name them, so it felt wrong when they ended up on the table the next day.”
he smiled faintly, wrong when they ended up on the table.
you went on, oblivious to the way his gaze lingered. your attention was on your dinner, anyway. “so i just stopped eating meat. it’s easier and better that way. people claim they love animals, but how could they—” you paused, twirling a few noodles around your chopsticks.
“—love something and still hurt it?”
you looked down, shrugging, expression softening. “i don’t know. maybe i’m too sentimental.”
sunghoon’s gaze sharpened on you. he had long paused from eating. one hand flexed and twitched against his knee, jaw tightened. the words distorted and sweetened in his head. how could they not? he thought. how could love exist without wanting to consume and make it a part of you?
if you really love someone, don’t you want to be with them all the time?
he watched as you lifted the mushroom to your lips, eyes half–lidded as you chewed, and something inside him twisted into something more than hunger.
you didn’t get it. you could never understand the depth of what he felt for you—love, to you was soft, gentle, harmless—all sunshine and rainbows and everything good in life. but to sunghoon, it was the bite and the swallow.
the meal dwindled to silence and you dabbed at your lips with a tissue, sunghoon watched as you set it aside. when you stood to put your cups in his sink as he insisted, sunghoon slid the crumpled tissue into his pocket.
the boy thanked you for the dinner, sent you back next door, and wished you goodnight.
when the latch clicked shut behind him, sunghoon looked down at the tissues folded neatly in his palm—his little souvenirs from the evening.
——
slowly, the friendship between the two of you began to bloom—almost without you noticing. it wasn’t sudden, just small things that fit together like puzzle pieces.
sunghoon was attentive. not in the loud, overbearing way most boys tried to be, but he was gentle, calm. he remembered tiny passing details you thought no one really heard, or cared. in fact, he knew things you were pretty sure you never told anyone.
and he listened. really listened. when you spoke, sunghoon’s gaze stayed fixed on you, his replies thoughtful and quiet, almost like he was careful with what he was saying which was something you appreciated.
sometimes, when you caught him staring, you’d laugh and ask what he was thinking about—but he’d just smile, shake his head, and say, “nothing.”
it felt easy with him, somehow. like right now.
“you’re spacing out again.”
sunghoon blinked, his pupils refocusing as your voice broke through his daze. he shook his head slightly, caught off guard by the teasing in your tone.
“sorry—” he murmured, a small sheepish smile tugging at his lips. his voice was soft. “just… thinking.”
you tilted your head, a playful glint in your eyes. “about what?”
his fingers tapped lightly against the table, as if buying time. you, he thought. always you. only you. but instead he just chuckled under his breath. “how you just have a basket of fruits, but never offered me some.”
your eyes widened a fraction, before a grin etched across your face. “really—?” you chuckled, brows knitting in slight confusion. “i didn’t know you wanted some. you should’ve said so.”
sunghoon shrugged, lips quirking. “didn’t want to impose.”
you smiled, shaking your head as you got up towards the kitchen. picking up a peach, you placed it on the cutting board. “please, you’re practically a regular guest at this point.” the knife scraped softly against the board as you sliced.
sunghoon watched as the blade was just a fraction away from the tips of your fingers—close enough to nick the skin. he wished bones were that easy to slice through. wished he could part the metacarpals with the same clean whisper the knife made through peach flesh.
“see?” you broke his train of thought, holding up a neat smile. “there’s no need to shy about it.”
but then—slip.
the blade caught the pad of your finger, a quick sting blooming before the bead of red followed. “ah—” you gasped and hissed quietly, instinctively pulling your hand back.
sunghoon got up from the carpet, his expression shifting in an instant. “you’re bleeding,” he said. you just awkwardly chucked it off, bringing your finger to your lips. “yeah, it’s fine. just a little cut.”
your lips closed around the cut, tongue curling to lap the blood in one slow swipe. sunghoon’s pulse stuttered. the wet shine of your mouth, the faint smear of red left behind, the soft suction as you drew the taste of yourself in.
mine, he absentmindedly thought, raw and sudden. i could take that finger, keep it warm between my teeth until the marrow cooled.
“ugh,” you mumbled, pulling it free with a soft pop. a final crimson bead welled up. you turned to the sink, cold water hissing over the wound. sunghoon just stayed by you, sighing. “that won’t do,” he stepped closer, “where do you keep your band aid?”
you pointed at a drawer. sunghoon reached for the small box, fumbling a strip free. “let me…” he trailed, gently taking your hand in his, turning it palm–up so the cut faced the light. the blood had slowed to a lazy seep, a single drop sliding down the curve of your finger.
sunghoon pressed the pad to the wound, smoothing the edges with his thumb. the gauze drank the red instantly. “there,” he said, voice low. “better?” he didn’t let go.
you shyly nodded, not bothered pulling it away.
“mmhm,” you looked up to him from underneath your lashes. “better.”
with sunghoon, the world felt like it was moving slower and quieter. when he laughed, he did it with his whole body—leaning forward slightly, covering the bottom half of his pretty face with the back of his hand, eyes crinkling faintly.
and in the best way possible—maybe because of the calmness he carried, it made you sleepy. not one that came out of exhaustion, but safely.
like right now.
your eyes fluttered shut, still sitting on the floor with your back against the couch, the hum of his voice and the tv slowly fading. sunghoon glanced at you, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his lips.
you looked peaceful, head tilted slightly, hair brushing against your cheek. carefully, sunghoon crawled towards you and crouched, slipping one arm beneath your knees and the other behind your back.
your body fits nicely in his hold. would you melt if he hugged you?
you stirred a little when he lifted you, murmuring something incoherent that sunghoon hushed you under his breath. he carried you to the bed with slow steps as he didn’t want to wake you up if he wasn’t gentle enough.
“...there,” he muttered softly, laying you down and tucking the blanket up to your shoulders. sunghoon stood there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of your chest. the faint scent of your shampoo clung to his sleeve.
then, quietly, his gaze drifted to your hand—the one with the cut from earlier. reaching for it, his fingers ghosted over yours, before peeling the edge loose.
the band aid came off easily, leaving your skin bare. he folded the used sticker, blood–side in, and slipped it into his pocket.
you looked so peaceful amidst the chaos in sunghoon’s mind. if only you knew a fragment about what he was thinking about you, you would be horrified to death. you would hate him. loathe him.
without realising, sunghoon leaned over you, getting a closer look at your features and your tiny details. your lashes cast shadows, your lips slightly parted, breathing. he hovered, breath ghosting the corner of your lips.
one kiss. just one, you’ll never know.
his hand found your jaw, thumb setting in the hollow beneath your ear.
the kiss was barely contact, lips to lips, yes, but a little dry and quick. warmth flooded his mouth, letting the lower one graze the same of yours, tasting faintly the peach you had. the kiss was feather–light, but his teeth ached more.
just a nip, it purred. just enough to feel…
sunghoon traced the shape of your mouth with his own, mapping the bow, the dip, the plush at the center. he pecked, imagining how your lower lip would brush purple before bleeding if he’d bite it down.
the thought alone flooded his mouth with saliva that slipped in yours.
your breath hitched, and he froze. tongue moved behind your teeth, sunghoon didn’t pull back. instead, he pressed harder, dragging his mouth over yours. his hands slid from your cheeks down to the sides of your neck where he he cradled the fragile columns of muscle and tendon, thumbs settling beneath your jaw.
sunghoon could feel the flutter of your pulse against his fingertips, like a morse code saying: alive, alive, alive.
lips parted, a soft exhale escaped your lips as he drank it in, the tip of his tongue dragging across your teeth where he felt every ridge, every little mamelon. this is the map, he thought. this is the place i’ll open first.
when sunghoon finally pulled away, your lips were slightly swollen, glistening with saliva. a single thread of it stretched between you, snapped, and clung to his lower lip. sunghoon licked it clean.
“hah…” he breathed, your head lolled to the side, exposing the full column of your neck. sunghoon started, thinking of the painting where wolves bit the sheep as the little white animal had its eyes closed peacefully.
you were the little white.
sunghoon leaned in, pressed his open mouth to that spot—no teeth, just heat from his breath—and felt the thrum of your life against his lips.
then he let go.
when he finally turned to leave, sunghoon fiddled with the band aid in his pocket, thumb brushing over the faint trace of your skin into the adhesive. later that night, sitting on the edge of his bed in the dim light of his room—
sunghoon sucked the band aid into his mouth, tongue tracing the taste of your sweet, metallic blood on the dressing—his eyes fluttered shut and rolled behind the thin skin, savouring it like a secret snack.
——
“so… you and sunghoon?”
you blinked, looking up from the laptop screen. “what?” you raised an eyebrow, darting your eyes back to the screen. “what about us…?”
sunoo raised his brows, a teasing lilt in his tone. “you guys go home together and come together and eat together and have inside jokes together and—”
you let out a soft, awkward chuckle, waving your hand dismissively. “oh, that’s just because we live in the same building. it’s… convenient.”
“convenient,” he repeated, smiling knowingly, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “riiiight. and the same lunch boxes?”
your mouth fell open slightly. “what—how do you even notice those things?”
your friend shrugged, scoffing playfully. “hah—you should see his face when you talk to other guys too.” you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your neck. “he’s just… protective, i guess. he’s nice.”
sunoo leaned back in his chair, smirking. “yeah, he is. but y’know—guys don’t just look at their friend, especially one that’s supposed to be just neighbours like they like them.”
your eyes widened, unsure whether to laugh or deny it. “w—what? no, it’s not like that,” you stammered, the corners of your lips twitching. “we’re just… friends, really.”
sunoo gave a small hum, not quite convinced. “mm. if you say so,” his tone was light, teasing. “just… be sure with what you feel. as both you and sunghoon’s friend, i can tell you—sunghoon’s a lot of things, but he’s not the one to play around.”
“so if you don’t like him, just tell him. he’ll understand. he can be intimidating sometimes, but he’s not cruel.”
you bit the inside of his cheek, gaze falling to your hands. the words stuck somewhere in your throat—because the truth was, you did like sunghoon. probably more than you should.
“so you think i should just tell him?”
sunoo looked up from his screen, tilting his head. “do you like him?”
you nodded, lips pressing into a thin line. “yeah,” you admitted softly, almost embarrassed by the way your chest fluttered around it. “i do… he’s just so easy to be around. not like i planned it or anything.”
his expression softened, the teasing in his eyes faded into an understanding. “aw, then tell him,” he said simply with a shrug. “it’s probably mutual, anyway. i can feel it.”
you laughed under your breath, tapping your fingertips against your laptop’s palm rest area. “right… i don’t want to keep wondering if he feels the same either,” you sighed, shoulders dropping. “i just don’t wanna make things weird between us if it goes south,”
“he’s… important to me.”
sunoo leaned back, nodding. “if it’s real, it won’t get weird. and even if it does, sunghoon will make sure it isn’t.”
you didn’t know why—but that gave you the little boost you needed to let sunghoon know how you felt that night.
“—sorry, that was probably so sudden,” you said quickly, words tumbling out before you could stop them, “i just—ugh, this is embarrassing.” you fingers twisted the edge of your sleeve, and you looked everywhere but at him. “you don’t have to say anything. i just didn’t want to keep it in anymore, and i’m sorry if this makes things weird—”
“wait, wait wait wait,”
sunghoon’s eyes widened in disbelief, his lips parted slightly. “wait,” he said again, letting out a breath of chuckle. “you’re serious?”
you nodded, cheeks warm. “yeah,” you managed, trying to laugh, though it came out shaky. “i know it’s stupid, i just—”
“it’s not stupid.”
sunghoon leaned closer, the corners of his mouth twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to smile or not. his heart felt like it was beating everywhere—in his throat, his hands, his skull. “yn,” he said, swallowing the hunger in his throat.
“i feel the same way.”
you blinked, caught off guard by his answer—and the way his voice trembled ever so slightly. “you… what?” you asked, half laughing in disbelief.
sunghoon’s lips parted, his chest rising. “...yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “for a while now, actually.”
your heart felt like it might burst out of your ribs. “why?” you asked suddenly without thinking, still dazed, a nervous grin tugging at your lips. “why do you like me?”
he huffed a soft laugh, his eyes darting away as if the question embarrassed him. “that’s—you first.”
you groaned. “what? nooo, you can’t just deflect like that.”
sunghoon shrugged, smiling faintly. “i asked second. besides, i probably like you first than you do me.”
“fair,” you rolled your eyes playfully, looking down at your bowl of rice. “honestly… you’re just so easy to be around. i’m comfortable, and you’re—kind… and quiet, in the best way possible…”
his eyes softened as he watched you, propping his chin on the heel of his palm. “that’s all?”
“what do you mean that’s all!” you laughed, throwing him a look.
“i don’t know,” sunghoon said, grinning now, shrugging as he pulled his chair closer. “just thought you’d say something about how good–looking i am too.”
you let out a small snort, resting your cheek on your palm on the table. “fine. you’re handsome too. but that’s just a bonus.”
he laughed, his eyes crinkle like crescent moon. “your turn,” you said, nudging your chin playfully. “why do you like me?”
sunghoon tilted his head, considering. “aside from the obvious—how pretty you are,” he began, voice light but eyes sincere. “i think it’s just who you are. you’re… soft about life, but not weak. you care about the small things, so caring, considerate, lovely,”
he laughed a little under his breath, tilting his head slightly like he’s in awe. “when i’m with you, it’s… quiet in my head, but i also just can’t stop thinking about you.”
you blinked at him, caught between smiling and forgetting how to breathe. “that’s…” you trailed off, searching for words. “probably one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”
sunghoon’s lips curled, shy but sure. “then i’ll keep saying them, if it means you’ll keep looking at me like that,”
“but before i do all that… can i be your boyfriend, yn?”
——
one would think that sunghoon would settle after this—after getting what he’d wanted which was you. after being allowed closer, after becoming yours in a way he used to only fantasise and dream about.
one would think he’d calm down. be normal. relax now that he didn’t have to secretly snoop into your apartment or eavesdrop to your conversations just to know how your day was going. now, you were the one who told him everything—gave him your spare key, let him borrow your stuff and even let him put his toothbrush in your bathroom just incase.
but the truth was—dating you only made it worse for him.
because before, he had to imagine which could only go so far.
but now he got to see.
now you waited for him on your couch in tiny tank tops without overthinking if sunghoon thought you were seducing him, now you tied your hair up in front of him and exposed the slope of your neck without a second thought. now you sit between his legs on the floor while you fold laundry—his jaw clenched because your back, the curve of your spine was all his to view.
when before you hid your softness around him—now you trusted him with it.
and sunghoon didn’t know how to handle that.
being allowed to love you didn’t soothe the obsession. it only fed it, watered it, growing it into something even bigger, heavier, and hungrier. the closer you got, the more it was clear to him: sunghoon needed you inside him. not in that way—but you needed to be beneath the layers of his skin, threaded through the muscle, fused to the marrow of his bones.
sunghoon loved you, but not in the gentle way you wanted.
“o—oh god, hoonie, your mouth,” you gasped, arching your back against his mattress as your grip tightened around his locks. sunghoon’s dick twitched at your moanings, his hand travelled up to cup your soft tits in his large palms, the flesh spilling from between his fingers.
sunghoon kissed and nibbled the outline of your panties and your inner thighs, his sharp canines tugging at your skin and leaving teeth marks on it. his thumbs grazed and flicked your perky nipples. he’s such a tease—purposely avoiding the wet patch on your panties just centimetres from his lips.
your pussy twitched and pulsed, and if it wasn’t for sunghoon’s arms pinning your folded thighs down, they would've started trembling from how needy you were getting. “baby please, don’t tease me,” you whined, breath hitching in your lungs.
your boyfriend smirked and nuzzled his face into the warmth of your inner thigh, darting his tongue out to finally give your clothed entrance kitten licks. god, you tasted so sweet, so wet for him, so desperate.
and just finally, he plated a kiss on your cunt. you whimpered, hips jerking up slightly. sunghoon pinched your nipples like a warning to stay low—your fingers curling around his locks. “calm down, baby, let me enjoy this,” he murmured against your pussy, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.
sunghoon gave your kitty a few more kisses before hooking his finger beneath the waistband, sliding it down and bunched loosely beneath your knees, caught around both legs. you shivered at the cold air hitting your slicky cunt, sunghoon’s warm breath against it not helping at all either.
“whoa,” he took a long, nice inhale of your natural scent, saliva pooling in the back of his throat. fuck—not only did you look good, but you smelt good too. sunghoon wondered how you tasted like—though he’d rather take his time with you, savouring every inch instead of rushing a single bite.
“my honey’s so gorgeous,” his breath was heavy as he licked his lips, salivating with the way your hole twitched, walls clamping around nothing. “all this for me.”
you squirmed, heat rushing to your cheeks as sunghoon took his time enjoying the view—all self–conscious and horny. your hips trembled as they tried to shut, but sunghoon’s wrist anchored it down as he played with your nipples. “don’t… don’t look at it like that…”
disregarding you, sunghoon leaned and darted his tongue to lick at your needy cunt, all wet and dripping. he licked long strips between the lips before the shorter ones, the tip of his tongue tickling and flicking your little pea of nerves.
you gasped softly, lips parted, tipping your head back against the mattress. “hngh! sunghoon—!” you squirmed, toes curling in the air as sunghoon began french–kissing your cunt, molding and moving his lips against the labia like it’s your lips. the tip of his nose kept brushing against your sensitive clit.
shit felt so, so, so good. both for you and for him. sunghoon’s long, skilled tongue and mouth that made out with your cunt, his soft palms that tugged, pinched, and flicked your pretty perky nipples, his occasional soft moans, grunts, groans, and breath hitting your naked pussy.
and of course, for sunghoon—this was heaven. the ravenous kind of paradise. no wonder why adam and eve did what they did to the apple—when something looks that forbidden, that soft, that sweet, that appetising, how could anyone resist sinking their teeth in?
your pussy was so meaty, so fleshy. it felt like eating and biting into a really, really juice steak with juices dripping out. shit, sunghoon could devour this cunt all day and night long. with your sweet, honey dripping moanings and whimperings too.
nibbling here and there, sunghoon ran his tongue up and down, back and forth, lapping, slurping your folds before attaching himself to your clit where he sucked and tugged it. your moans grew louder, and you could only pray to god that your neighbours were out.
“oh god, just like that, hoonie, just like that,” you cried out, bucking your hips with your limited movement against sunghoon’s handsome face. he grunted, the vibration from his voice sending shivers through you. “so needy,” he chuckled, plunging his tongue into your throbbing hole, nose pressed against your clit as he practically shoved his face into his meal.
running your hand through his hair, you tangled them again, giving it a tug forward. your boyfriend picked up his pace, thrusting his tongue in and out of you like it’s his cock, curling the muscle to press on that soft, gummy spot in your cunt.
you tensed up, shivering, legs trembling in the air as your breath hitched. “hngh—! hoonie! there, there, there, oh god, there, baby,” you pleaded, writing beneath his grip on your boobs. his lips never stopped working either—it slurped and sucked your cunt noisily, tongue exploring the domain of your cunt.
trembling, you began suppressing your moans by biting the back of your hand, tears welling in your eyes as the pressure began to build up—overstimulation washing over you. “uh—fffu, hnghh…” you whimpered, incoherent words spilling from your lips.
sunghoon didn’t care that he practically couldn’t breathe properly from being suffocated by your sweet pussy—he loved the feeling, more than anything he’s ever felt before. 23 years of being alive, and nothing could ever top this high.
“fuck, mhh,” he muffled in your cunt, your walls spasming around his tongue. you gyrated against sunghoon’s mouth, rubbing your wet pussy on his face—making a mess. he thrusts and curved his tongue along your walls, dragging the tip of his tongue as his loops made sloppy wet sounds. your walls contracted and pulsated.
“hoonie—!” you cried out, back arching, legs tensed in the air. you’re so close to cumming it’s crazy—your whole body quivered, tingling, quaking, toes curling, hand tightened around his hair while the other biting down on your skin hard.
feeling you getting close, sunghoon grazed his teeth on your pussy, making your stomach pulsate at the sensation. your breath stuttered—shallow and uneven and heavy and short—each exhale catching on the rise of the heat building in your belly.
sunghoon slid one hand from your tit down to your abdomen where he pressed his palm flat on the flesh, pressuring into the soft give of your stomach. your stomach fluttered under his palm, a tight, hot pull low in your belly made your breath stumble. everything felt too close, too overstimulating, too much. “n—not there, ‘m gonna cum, hoonie, i’m gonna cum—!”
throwing your head back, a silent cry left your throat. you clamped down on your bottom lip to keep any noise from leaving your mouth—quickly reminding yourself that you don’t live by yourself. “mhh!” an intense wave rushed through your entire body, arching your back in pleasure—you release both your creamy orgasm and squirt on your boyfriend’s face.
your thighs trembled as sunghoon pressed your abdomen harder, forcing all liquids to come out of your body. sunghoon continued fucking your cunt with his tongue, slurping, sucking, gulping down straight down his throat.
his adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped down.
“hnghh, mhh—! sunghoon!” you whimpered, crying out. your legs threatened to squeeze around his head, hips bucking against his face as you chased your high. his nose brushed between your folds.
everything dripped down his face to his chin, sunghoon pinched the fat on your stomach to ground himself as he lapped his tongue flat on your pussy. you tasted so, so, so fucking good—sweeter than any fruit he’d ever bitten into, sweeter than any dessert he’d tasted. your liquid kept sliding down his throat like it never ended as he drank it all—he swore his eyes went crossed.
like a starving animal getting a mouthful yet still not satisfied, sunghoon did something no creature of instinct ever could—he hungered past your body, craving the soul beneath the skin.
sunghoon bit down—clamping his canines and row of perfect teeth into the meaty flesh of your cunt. it bit down sharply, the way one would bite down their steak, hard enough for the skin to split with a wet squelching noise. he held the bite, jaw locked, feeling the pulse beneath the meat throb against his tongue.
alive, alive, alive.
sunghoon pulled back an inch where the wound yawned open before him—the muscle dark and wet, a ribbon of blood spilled free, thick and crimson metallic, tracing the curve of his lower loop before dripping in a slow, deliberate line down his chin. your blood clung to the sharp line of his jaw, then fell in a perfect scarlet bead onto the sheet between your thighs.
oh this was it—sunghoon savoured it, tilting his head up so the blood would slide along the hollow of his throat, pooling at the notch of his collarbone. the taste coated his tongue: iron and salt and sweetness, with your chunk of flesh in his mouth, where he bit, chewed, grinded it against his molars like a really, really chewy meat.
the first mouthful was revelation: warm, velvet muscle parting under his teeth. sunghoon leaned to drag his tongue over the open wound, slower time time, savouring the layers of your flesh beneath your skin.
sunghoon pressed his face into the wound, nose buried in the open wound, and inhaled. this scent—sex, blood, and you—he wanted to bathe in if it was possible. sunghoon wanted to open you up, crawl inside like a reversed baby coming out of their mother’s womb—he wanted to live there and live under your skin.
another lick, a gush of blood escaped and spread on his tongue, clinging to his teeth like syrup. sunghoon sucked gently while he munched down on your flesh, breaking nerves and venules apart with a grind of molars. your muscle fibre tore like silk.
ah, so this is what you taste like.
he bit again, teeth scraping your skin where your inner thigh met. the skin here was thinner; it parted like how you would tear a paper—a new river of blood spilled free, tracing the corners of his mouth, hollowing his collarbone.
he didn’t immediately swallow, letting the flesh sit on his tongue warmly.
he would never be hungry again, he would never be empt—
“sunghoon—?”
you panted, your eyes glistening with tears, wide and glassy, pupils blown from the aftershock of your climax. your thighs trembled, the sheets beneath you were soaked—not with blood, but with the slick of your release.
your fingers were still clawed at his hair, trying to pull him up, but he stayed buried between your legs, mouth still latched to the soft inner fold of your thighs where the skin was flushed crimson.
not from the bite marks where he’d bitten, but from the bruising suction of his lips, the scrape of his teeth, and the relentless drag of his tongue.
the fantasy had bled so deep into reality that when sunghoon finally lifted his head, his lips were swollen and wet, shining with your juices, his saliva. a thin string of saliva and arousal stretched from his mouth to the tender spot he’d been devouring, snapping only when he blinked, like waking from a fever dream.
“it… it hurts,” you whispered, voice cracked and trembling. “can you… come here… please?”
sunghoon’s breath hitched and he couldn’t even mutter an apology as much as he wanted to. he crawled up your body on shaky arms, and when he hovered over your face, you saw it—that feral glint flickering in his eyes, the way his tongue kept darting out, licking his lips.
you cupped his jaw with trembling fingers. a tear slipped down your cheek. this was the first time he looked like someone else. “you okay?” you breathed.
your boyfriend leaned in, pressed his forehead to yours, and said the truth with the softest smile.
“never better.”
——
you can be on a diet for only so long before you get really, really hungry again.
if you never confessed to sunghoon (months ago), you’d never know that he was so… clingy. he got that cute, shy–boyish way about him, sure—but he also couldn't just stop touching you. always tugging you closer by the hem of your shirt, always slipping his fingers between yours even when you were just walking to take the trash out, always resting his chin on your shoulder.
sunghoon’s favourite thing to do was pressing his fingers against your pulse.
sometimes on your wrist to check if you were real and alive. sometimes under your jaw where the sudden movement made your breath catch. sometimes against the inside of your thigh when he thought you wouldn’t notice, waiting for that jump under his fingertips.
sunghoon swore your pulse gave him morse code that told him you’re—alive, alive, alive.
he liked knowing you were alive under his hands.
he liked knowing you were still alive because of him.
sometimes it creeped you out, but lately…. it’s been a lot.
you can hold your breath for a while, but eventually your lungs will start begging for air.
“sunghoon,” you said, mumbling against his bare chest as he held you in his arms. your boyfriend replied with a soft hum, fingers playing with the lock of your hair. “...i think we need a break,” you said—quiet, careful, distracted.
sunghoon blinked. a little crease forming between his brows. he pulled back, immediately propping himself up on his elbow so he could see your face better.
“what… break?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper like he was afraid he’d misheard you.
you swallowed, looking away. “just some space… just—just a little. we’re not breaking up, i just need some—”
“space? from me?” he even points to himself. wishing there was someone else you’re talking about. “but… why? did i do something?”
you opened your mouth, but the words tangled on your tongue. you could feel his eyes on you—almost frantic. you didn’t want to tell sunghoon he’d been clingy, too much. you didn’t want your boyfriend to change himself… but then again, you didn’t feel good about lying.
“i just…” you tried again, an uneasy gut forming in your stomach. “hoonie, you’ve just been all over me lately. i just need to breathe a little.”
sunghoon’s shoulder stiffened. his fingers, which had been resting lightly on your waist, curled in resistance from grabbing you and holding you in place. “all over you?” he echoed, disbelief laced in his tone. “i am all over you. i love you, isn’t that what i’m supposed to do?”
his eyes searched your face like he was trying to find the part where you were joking. space shouldn’t be a word that applies to him. when you didn’t respond, sunghoon let out a weak laugh. “baby, i don’t… understand,” he admitted, voice softening.
“how can you need space from me? we’re finally together, we finally get each other.” sunghoon sat up straighter, leaning against the frame. “i’ve waited for us for so long. why would you want distance now? what do you mean i’m all over you?”
“if i’m being too much, you can just… tell me. i’ll fix it. i’ll be better. i’ll do anything. just don’t—” his voice caught, barely. “don’t pull away.”
you felt the weight of his desperation settle thickly. his need wasn’t loud or violent; it was quiet, pleading, woven into every tiny movement he made. his thumb brushed over your shoulder like he was trying to reassure himself you were still there.
he didn’t need to fix himself. he didn’t need to apologise or shrink or adjust anything just to accommodate you. you weren’t asking him to be smaller or softer or different. but god, the way he looked at you made the guilt bloom sharp and sour in your throat.
“hoonie…” you murmured, sitting upright. “you don’t get it…” you tug on your bottom lip, finding the right words to tell him. “i need time to get my head straight. i don’t want these thoughts—that you’re being too much to take a toll on me.”
his expression twitched, not with anger, but confusion. “then i just stop being too much, then.” he shrugged like it was that simple. was as easy as flipping a switch. you frowned, feeling almost disrespected. “sunghoon,” you murmured—but he leaned forward.
“i can tone it down,” he insisted. “i won’t hold you as much, won’t cling, won’t—” his voice cracked for just a fraction. “won’t touch you, if that freaks you out.”
“no,” you exhaled, heat rising in your chest. “you’re hearing what you want to fix. not what i’m saying.”
“how is that wrong? i’m trying. what am i supposed to do?”
just like that—? “you’re ignoring how i feel,” you shot back, fingers curling the blanket. “i’m telling you i need space, and the first thing you say is that you’ll change for me. i’m not trying to ask you to be a different person.”
his jaw tensed, frowning deeper. ”well—what am i supposed to say? okay, go ahead, leave me alone? that’s insane.”
you blinked, stunned. “so my feelings are insane now?”
“that’s not what i said.”
“but that’s how it sounds.” you countered, heart pounding against your chest. “you make it feel like what i need doesn’t matter unless it lines up with what you want.”
sunghoon’s eyes widened. “that’s not fair. i always think about you.”
“exactly!” you said, voice cracking. “you think about me so much you don’t leave any space for me to think about myself.”
his lips parted, breath catcing—because he hadn’t expected that from you. he didn’t expect you to raise your voice, or be so angry about what he think he did right.
you dragged a hand through your hair, visibly frustrated. “it makes me feel disrespected when you say things like that. like my boundaries don’t matter.”
sunghoon shook his head quickly. “what—? no, that’s not tru—”
“then listen,” you said firmly, removing the covers off your body. “i’m asking for a break. not a breakup. i need it, and you need to respect that.” getting off his bed, you take your items—phone, bracelets, and glasses—from his bedside table.
your boyfriend swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “i don’t know how to do this,” he murmured, voice breaking. “i don’t know how to be away from you.”
the front door slammed shut, the sound ricocheting through the apartment.
you had actually walked away from him.
——
“you did what you gotta do,” wonyoung said, tossing you a towel as she settled beside you on the couch. her apartment was the embodiment of her, all soft and warm.
you sighed, groaning as you stretched your limbs above your head. “i know, i know… i just—”
the guilt swelled up in your chest, thick and heavy. “i feel awful, wony. he looked so… wrecked. it felt like i kicked a puppy.”
she chuckled softly, shaking her head. “yeah, a very clingy, tall, big puppy who doesn’t understand boundaries.” she leaned her head back, eyes narrowing slightly. “it’s been weeks, he’ll come around.”
you frowned, leaning your head back as well on the backrest. “he didn’t take it well,” you murmured, staring at the ceiling. “i’ve never seen him look like that. wonder what he feels now…”
your friend let out a slow exhale. “yeah, but you needed the break. i mean… you know i’m not his biggest fan.”
you hugged the towel around your shoulders. “i know that. he’s not bad—”
“i didn’t say he’s bad,” she cut in gently. “i’m just glad you decided to draw some line. he’s so intense and possessive sometimes. you’ve been stressed for weeks before this. that’s not normal.”
you sunk deeper into the couch. yeah—it wasn’t just you who noticed how sunghoon changed after getting together with you. wonyoung, sunoo—his friends did too.
wonyoung noticed it first. she’d give you little looks when she saw the marks on your skin that you failed to cover up. not hickeys—those are still considerably normal. bite marks. actual teeth marks. sunoo’s brows knitted so tightly you thought they’d fuse together when sunghoon had gotten up to follow you to the bathroom. even heeseung—who you would assume wouldn’t care so much once said with an awkward laugh, “he’s… really into you, huh?”
you had brushed every comment away then. it was just young, new, eager, overwhelming love. but now, sitting on wonyoung’s couch with guilt sitting like a stone in your chest, you wonder why you didn’t acknowledge it sooner.
he wasn’t just clingy.
he was spiraling, and you’d gotten caught in the center of it.
——
have you ever had something so good you couldn’t stop thinking about it after?
you were like one of those rare delicacies one would stumble upon once in their life, the kind that ruins everything else—because after having it once, nothing else compares. nothing else satisfies.
sunghoon stuffed himself full with all kinds of sweets, spice to numb his tongue, salt that gave him migraines—jerk himself off that he swore he’d nothing left inside, grind against his bolster, fucked his fist, folded his pillow into two and fucked the hole it made—to your voice, your clips, your face, your stuff that he stole—cum on your shoe outside your door, on the cookie you baked that’s been in his fridge longer than it should.
he’s still hungry.
the more distance you put between you and him, the more violently he remembered. like hunger after a long journey, teeth aching for something familiar again. you weren’t just someone he loved, you were the first thing that made him understand obsession.
you were the person who made sunghoon the way he was. you were the person who made sunghoon realised he might be a—
cannibal.
it speaks to the carnal human desire to be touched and remain impossibly close to another person.
“hoonie?”
sunghoon shuddered at your soft voice. you’re still alive—his lips trembled as tears welled in his eyes. “yn,” he swallowed. “i—i missed you,” he choked, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt. “i really can’t… i really, really, can’t do this anymore.”
“i feel so sick without you. i can’t eat, i can’t do sleep, i can’t do anyt—”
his voice dissolved into a harsh exhale, his chest rising and falling with the frantic rhythm of someone who’s trying not to break down.
something about him made you open the door wider, taking his hand in yours. “hoonie…” your other hand rose to cup his cheek, always so gentle. you knew it must’ve hurt him, but you didn’t know it was to this extent—he looked so… devastated.
sunghoon looked like his world crumbled apart.
“come inside.” you murmured, gently tugging him in. your boyfriend stumbled inside, eyes glassy and wild. as the door clicked shut behind him, he felt it settle into his bones—he would never be able to let you go.
you should never feed the hunger that was supposed to just starve and rot.
“‘missed you so much,”
“i missed you so fucking much,” sunghoon nipped the shell of your ear, lifting your hips up to tug you closer, drawing your bodies together. you let out a soft yelp, wrapping your arms around his heck. “mh—!”
your boyfriend darted his tongue out to lick the curve of your ear, tracing the delicate shell—the triangular fossa, down to your concha and just flicking the inside—you squirmed, tilting your head away but sunghoon caught it, squishing your cheeks to keep your head still.
“it tickles—!” you gasped, the laugh breaking into a breathy moan as his sharp teeth grazed the love, not biting, just holding. his tongue followed the path again, wetter and slower this time, mapping the ridge and hollow.
this cartilage, this pulse—mine to keep.
sunghoon’s warm breath entered your ear as he kept grinding his cock between your clothed pussy lips. the two of you were so dying to fuck—but sunghoon wanted to foreplay first. “stay still baby,” he rasped, sucking the antitragus—the pointed cartilage bump on your outer ear.
his mouth travelled down to nip at the soft hollow just beneath your ear, that fragile cradle where your pulse beat visibly if sunghoon squinted his eyes. his teeth closed gently, the skin dimpled, then released with a soft, wet pop; he chased the spot with his tongue, flicking the tip around it, lapping at the warmth as he darkened the mark.
yeah—this too, his pulse.
sunghoon nudged your panties aside with the head of his cock, rubbing the mushroom head between your labia, rubbing it up and down your pussy lips. he dipped his head just enough to stretch your cunt before pulling it out, smearing your juices all over your cunt.
you whimpered in frustration as your breath hitched, “hoonie, please—please fuck me right now baby,” your back arched in desperation—needy for his cock that you’ve longed for for weeks. “need your cock inside me, please,” you pleaded desperately.
not sure if it was your fervent begging, or sunghoon’s meal time that grumbled, but he obliged. sunghoon slid his cock inside, stretching your pussy with the best kind of burn sensation. he buried his face into the crook of your neck as he groaned, the warmth of your cunt engulfed his throbbing cock.
“fuck, you’re s’tight,” he murmured, tugging on your skin with his canine. you moaned out, tightening your grip around his neck as the discomfort emerged. “h—hngh! wait, wait,” you gasped, mind fumbling to focus on his cock or his lips. “you’re so big, fuck,”
slowly, sunghoon began to pull his hips back, then thrusted forward as gentle as he could. the pain subsided as he continued to move, and it started to feel good—like how it’d been feeling at this while.
you missed your boyfriend so much.
sunghoon raised his head from your neck, the other hand that’s not propping himself beside your head played with your tender tit, fondling, squeezing, squishing the flesh. “you feel so amazing.” he murmured, leaning to kiss you again. kissing might be his favourite thing to do, afterall—
a kiss is the beginning of consumption.
sunghoon moved at a pace where it’s pleasurable for the two of you, his hips pressed to your pelvis. he’s breathing deep, hurried breaths, sweat began forming at his temple. “s’deep hoonie, hngh,” you grasped his shoulders, clawing your nails into him.
“yeah?” a guttural moan escaped him, head thrown back in a second as he picked up his pace, intensifying his rhythm. “i’m about to give you more pretty girl,” the corner of his lips twitched into a smirk, leaning to feast on your neck once again.
his favourite altar. sunghoon imagined the give of it—how the thin layer would split like wet parchment, how the blood would flood his tongue, how the flavour would be richer than anywhere else—he kissed harder at the thought.
and so did his cock. the head slammed and knocked against your cervix, quicker and more insistent—the bed beneath shook under the combined weight. “hngh, fuck, yn, i—” he winched at how tight your pussy clamped him down.
your muscles clenched and released, the remnant of his cock shoved inside, balls deep and slapping against the curve of your ass. “hoonie, hoonie, t’deep, too deep—” you arched your back, turning your head to nibble your bedsheet beneath.
sunghoon dismissed your pleadings, dragging his teeth along the tendon again, counting heartbeads like rosary beads with the tip of his tongue. every throb of his cock: your vein, this life. his hips stuttered as he buried his cock deeper.
do it, the hunger hissed. do it now.
do it sunghoon. do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it
do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it
he did it.
sunghoon’s jaw snapped shut like a trap.
his sharp teeth and canines punched through your skin with a crack, the carotid parted under his canines like an overripe peach, a soft hiss of surrender broke apart as the artery split and the blood surged and squired all over.
the copper iron taste hit his tongue in a scalding flood, sweeter and alive, and real with the frantic drum of your pulse—before your screams did.
“ahh—!” your body jerked beneath him in a single, shocked spasm, and the motion only drove his teeth deeper until his upper molars kissed the bottom ones. a sudden, scalding gush flooding the hollow of your neck, spilling down your collarbone in thick waves. you felt it leaving you and straight being sucked into his mouth into greedy, rhythmic pulls—
much like the rhythm of his hips rocking against yours.
your vision tunneled, the ceiling blurred. “sunghoon! sunghoon—!” you cried out, body thrashing, fingers clawing at his shoulders, nails dragging his skin red and drawing blood, but your limbs were already going heavy, agonisingly slow.
this isn’t real, your mind screamed.
“fuck, mmh, fuck,” sunghoon moaned as he lapped his tongue over the open wound, sticking the muscle inside where it wriggled around your flesh. he collected drops of your blood like communion.
his cock grew at the taste—he couldn’t even move anymore, just kept it buried warm and comfy around your warmth, throbbing and pulsing each time a gush of your blood entered his stomach.
your boyfriend pulled back slowly, like a man surfacing from deep water.
his face was ruined. horrific.
blood coated in his mouth in a glossy, obscene mask—dripping from his chin in slow ropes that splattered onto your chest, trailing down the side of your tits and landed on your collarbone. it streaked his cheeks in wild, smeared acts, clung to his lashes in clumps, painted his sharp jaw in dripping crimson.
“yn…” his lips were swollen, split at the corner from the force of the bite. when he smiled, his teeth gleamed red. “you taste fucking amazing.”
his eyes were blown wide, pupils swallowing the brown, reflecting the lamplight like a… like a madman. a low, guttural laugh rumbled in his chest as he dragged his tongue through the blood.
you were raggedly, shallowy breathing—still alive.
your hand fluttered weakly to your neck where your fingers brushed the wet, pulsing ruin that left a hole of the bite. white–hot pain exploded behind your eyes. “sunghoon—” your voice cracked, barely a whisper. “what… why did you—”
your pussy twitched, unintentionally clamped around him. sunghoon winched, tilting his head before leaning in. his forehead pressed to yours as he brought his hand to squish your cheeks, smearing crimson across your skin like paint.
“shhh,” he murmured, “you’re okay.”
sunghoon kissed you, his balls smacked against the curve of your ass with powerful thrusts, the tip of his cock delved so deep you swore it went past your womb. “hngh—!” you whimpered, his mouth crashed over yours. the taste exploded across your tongue and went straight to your brain.
so dizzying you felt the room spinning. all of it you, all of it his. his lips were swollen, warm, sticky, thick from the mess of your neck, and when he pressed harder, slipping his tongue inside—the wound on your throat throbbed in pain.
your hands weakly tried to push him off—digging your nails into his flesh, but it was nothing compared to the impact he had on you. it’s so painful, it’s crazy—
sunghoon’s teeth caught the corner of your mouth where he bit down again, sharp and sudden, the soft flesh of your lower lip splitting under the pressure. your eyes widened in horror as fresh bead of blood welled up down your chin.
“this is it,” he moaned, rasping as he sucked it cleaned, tongue curling around the flappy skin where he tore a piece off, munching on it. so… chewy, so porky… “‘this is t’taste,” his tongue traced the path of the tear he’d shed.
even whimpering felt weird—your mouth opened a little wider at every attempt that you realised shutting up might just be better. tears escaped your eyes, mixed with the blood smeared on your face. salty and irony, salty and irony—it’s painful.
everything’s painful. your neck’s throbbing and hissing, your mouth felt weird and swollen, the corner of your lip stinging where his teeth had split it open, you’re so horrified and aghast your pussy squeezed his growing cock.
a broken sob tore from your chest. tears spilled hot and fast, cutting clean tracks. your hands shook as they flew to your neck, putting pressure on the wound where you tried to stop the bleeding and the pain surging.
“it hurts—” you choked, body heaving and jerking and shivering. “it hurts s’much,” another sob, louder, wetter—you hoped the neighbours were here this time, shoving and forcing themselves inside your apartment and save you. your body curled in on itself, shoulders shaking, painful breath hitching in sharp, panicked gasps.
sunghoon’s eyes twitched, his spine straightened, looking down on you wrecked. split mouth, blood–slick chin. your sobs grew louder as your chest heaved in pain, exhaustion dragging you under. your fingers even inserted themselves into the wound because blood just won’t stop spilling.
“just a little,” your boyfriend dug his nails into the soft part between your ribs, burying his nails until the skin split with a wet ripping sound. “it won’t hurt,” the flesh parted like warm butter, a line of blood welling up. he pressed deeper, the heat of peritoneal cavity just beneath,
his fingers curled, hooked, and pulled.
your skin tore like a peeling fruit. warm viscera spilled into his palm. the small intestine glistened, pearlescent and alive and warm, steaming. sunghoon’s salvating—he swallowed the lump in his throat as he lifted it to his mouth like a newborn.
sinking his teeth into the delicate wall of your intestine, the taste was obscene—the faint sweetness of bile, the tang of blood, the earthy warmth of your core that had never seen light. that part that held your breath, food, and life.
sunghoon chewed slowly, reverently, blood dripping along his chest and stomach and abs and abdomen, down to your cunt—where his dick disappeared inside your tight hole. the tissue burst between his molars, the fluid flooding his tongue in sweet rush.
he bit it like steak pieces, swallowing.
cannibalism is the most stomach-churning version of possession.
“won’t hurt you,” your boyfriend murmured, pupils blown wide. he leaned to press his blood slick mouth, giving your wound open kisses. his tongue delved into the wound of your stomach, lapping at the slick walls, the coiled organs,
everything that had once been you—
“inside me now,” he whispered, burying his face between your torn ribs. “forever.”
the hunger had been appeased.
there was no desperation claiming at his ribcage now. no frantic ache in his chest. no restless, twitching need to hold you closer until he couldn’t breathe. consuming you—talking all of you into him—he had become calm.
anchored.
peaceful, even.
your body laid open beneath him like a split, overripe, ruined peach.
your eyes were wide and lifeless, soulless as death claimed you—matte pupils fixed on the ceiling. the wound in your abdomen yawned wide, intestines spilled out like how a cotton would when the plushie is torn, pooling across your tummy and bedsheet.
sunghoon pressed a trembling hand to his chest, right over the heart.
beat–beat.
beat–beat.
that rhythm—your rhythm, now his as well.
that long, dragging craving that had haunted him worse than devils and ghouls, the rabid need that made him shake—all of it had dissolved into this fullness. that blissful numbness.
if hunger was a torment, then this was salvation.
he had eaten you whole.
in his imagination.
“hoonie…?” you whimpered softly, squirming beneath him as you put your hands on his chest to create some distance. sunghoon blinked himself to reality—pupils going back to normal size, lips parting open with saliva pooling at the back of his throat.
he looked down on you, your eyes glassy, cheeks puffed and flushed, eyelashes wet with tears clumps—he’d long cum inside of you, cock still buried like he wasn’t letting any of his lovemilk oozing out.
you came as well—orgasm drowned and rushed you like a waterfall, squirting and wetting your mattress. your chest heaved for air, panting, chest rising
sunghoon’s eyes darted towards your neck—the skin flushed rose, full of his lovebites and marks but nothing wounded. no blood, no bite… he swallowed hard, throat clicking. then his eyes darted towards your lips, no tear, no split. just your perfect, lovely lips—glistening with shared saliva from kissing.
then under your chest. still intact, still sewn together, rising and falling in soft, exhausted waves.
he exhaled slowly—the sound trembling in the quiet.
you were still alive. you were untouched in all the ways his mind had ravaged you just moments before. “hah—” he chuckled dryly, running his clean hand through his face where wiped down his sweats.
in the back of his throat, he could still taste your flesh between his teeth.
you reached out to brush his strands sticking onto his skin. how lonely your boyfriend must’ve felt throughout the break period—how could you ever do that to him?
swallowing the guilt in your throat, you sucked the inside of your cheek, thumb caressing the apple of sunghoon’s flushed cheek. a low, rumbling sound vibrated in your tummy.
jay has set rules for you to follow, ones you cannot cross under any circumstances. you know he has very high expectations of you and if you ever disappoint him, you'll suffer the consequences.
lessons are meant to be learned.
| pairing. dom bf!jay x fem!reader
| warnings. abusive relationship & psychological abuse, manipulation/gaslighting, lowkey forced dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, use of a gun, (very much implied) post-apocalyptic setting, jay's really a toxic bf but he's so caring at the same time <3
a.n.: wrote this on a whim ><
you hear the sound of his boots hitting the floorboard, heavy and threatening, getting closer with each step he takes. you’re shaking like a leaf, curled up on yourself under the bed, paralyzed with fear. you’re staring straight ahead of yourself with your vision blurry from your tears.
you’re so certain and uncertain of everything at the same time, as if anything could happen, but also nothing. he would never hurt you, not like this—but you’re hiding from him because you’re afraid of what he’d do if he finds you. he wouldn’t hurt you.
the door rattles and then it opens quite hastily, jay’s feet stepping inside. he doesn’t say a single thing, staying silent like always, but he’s looking for you.
he stands there for a moment and you pray he turns back, realizes you aren’t here, but you know he isn’t stupid. he knows without having to search. you hold your breath when he walks further in, his black boots stopping right in front of the bed. you want to sob, let out your cries, but you hold them in.
please, turn back around.
without warning, he crouches down and reaches under the bed, his hand closing around one of your ankles all in one second. you scream and kick your other foot, but he doesn’t pay any mind to it. he got you.
jay drags you out of your hiding spot and when your teary eyes meet his, he’s totally expressionless, except for the slight twitch of his jaw, set in a hard line. he’s beyond pissed, but he doesn’t let it show.
he fights with your arms, and when he manages to lock your wrists together, he ties them up with a white piece of cloth he pulled out from his back pocket. you’re sobbing now, your chest heaving up and down in rapid and shallow breathing.
“da-daddy! please,” you cry, strings of spit sticking to your lips, tears streaming down your face. “ah!” you jump when he backhands you, a stinging pain blooming across your cheek.
he cups your face, making you look at him. “you don’t say a word, you hear me?” then, another slap. you choke on a sob, your head flying to the other side, nodding repeatedly to show you understand.
he pulls your torso up by your bicep, and without hesitation, he puts another long piece of cloth between your lips and ties it behind your head. he looks into your eyes one last time before blindfolding you.
you’re trembling like a poor frightened baby animal, only able to see the dark silhouette of your boyfriend behind your blindfold, deprived of your most valuable sense.
you let out a squeal when jay roughly puts you back up on your unsteady feet, walking you out of the bedroom. you can hear the heavy thud of his boots against the wooden floor, meanwhile your naked feet only bring you so far, jay dragging you behind him as you struggle to follow him. his hold on your arm is tight and unyielding, fingers pressing down on your skin, leaving bruises behind.
at one point, he pulls you up and throws you over his shoulder, walking down the stairs until you hear the front door creak open. a front of cold air hits your body and soon enough you’re tossed onto the backseats of the car.
you do your best to sit up and guess what’s happening, the door shutting making you jump. you sense the car shaking as jay takes the driver seat, turning the engine on. all you can see is the shadow of jay’s head and the light of the setting sun in front of you.
when the car gets to a stop and you hear him leaving the car, you start panicking. a whimper leaves your throat once he opens the door to your side and takes a hold of you, practically dragging you out of the car. your feet are met with the frozen soil, a shiver running up your spine at the sensation. you’re unsure of where you are and for what reason, but your breath quickens when you recognize the faint rattle of his hunting rifle.
why did he bring it with him?
he pushes you to the ground a few steps away from the car and you fall onto your side, dirtying your knees and elbows with mud.
“look at me.”
he knows you can’t actually see him, he just wants you to face him. he wants a better angle.
you’re sobbing and you’re sure you’re scaring off animals with how loud your cries are—but you can’t control yourself, you can’t help it. you turn your head to where his voice is coming from, bringing your knees close to your chest. you’re shuddering because of the cold, or maybe it’s the adrenaline, or both.
it’s the only thing he’s said since you left the house—a command, an order for you to place yourself how he wants, how he needs you to be.
then, you hear the sound of his rifle pointing up in the air.
the gun he uses to hunt animals, to put food onto your table. now, without even seeing, you know it’s pointed at you. and he makes sure you understand that’s what he’s doing by reloading it.
you scream with the cloth in your mouth, soaked in your spit, shaking your head frantically from side to side. he can’t do that—he wouldn’t.
he can’t end it, not like that, not by killing you.
he puts his index over the trigger, looking at you through the target, and-
click.
it’s like the breath is taken out of your lungs all at once, heart beating out of your chest, your head pounding—but there’s nothing, no pain, no bullet.
the rifle was empty.
you gasp for air, bawling your eyes out. you hear the dead leaves crunching under the soles of his shoes as he crouches down in front of you, pulling the cloth out of your mouth, spit covering your chin and lips.
you cry like you’ve actually been shot, body shaking at the pace of your sobs.
he grabs your face, lifting your head up. “it’s okay, you’re fine,” he says, tone soft and calm. “i hope this made you learn your lesson this time.”
you hiccup, bobbing your head as a yes. “y-yes, daddy,” you say with a shaky voice, your eyes searching for jay behind your blindfold. “i’m sorry,” you apologize, the only thing left for you to do. he has to forgive you. he will, like always. this was just a slip up. “so sorry.”
he hums, running his thumb over your chin. “i know you are.” he pauses, then traces the shape of your lips with the pad of his thumb. “always such a good girl,” he says with a sigh like he’s disappointed. “what happened, hm? why did you disobey me?”
you know he isn’t expecting an answer, talking back is always forbidden—when jay’s expressing his feelings, you listen. talking back is disrespectful, trying to justify yourself is dishonest.
“i don’t like scaring you like that, baby. it’s a shame that i had to resign myself to that kind of punishment…” he comments, speaking with such disconcerting seriousness it unsettles you. “but it’s the only way you’ll ever learn. this was more than just a mistake…” he takes a moment to exhale, his fingers tightening around your face. “you went against the rules—willingly.”
you sniffle, silently nodding your head. you swallow to try and make the lump in your throat go away, but it stays, uncomfortable.
he pulls the blindfold up over your forehead, finally uncovering your eyes. you blink several times before your vision adjusts to your surroundings, seeing that you’re in the woods, the car parked a few feet away from you. then, your gaze lays on jay, crouched down to your level.
he’s so beautiful.
his hair is perfect, except for a couple of dark strands framing the sides of his face. mouth set in a straight line, always serious, always expressionless—you never know his thoughts unless he tells you.
and the hunting rifle—the strap is placed over his shoulder, the weapon tucked behind his back, no longer pointed in your direction.
when he unties the cloth keeping your wrists together, the first thing you do is throw your arms around his torso, snuggling yourself up to him. he soothes you by gently shushing you and running his palm up and down your back.
“come on, let’s go back to the car, ‘kay?” he says softly like a whisper and you follow him, getting up from the ground.
—-
i don't know if i like it?? i love the idea but it feels a little rushed, i'm not really good at building up lol. it was more just to experiment anyway so i hope you liked it, let me know your thoughts :)
pls send feedback or else i will go into a spiral and start hating my writing altogether
CONTENT : smut, thriller, angst, mention of deep distress and probable suicide (hee's twin), dollification behavior, mention of blood and cuni during period, manipulative Heeseung, possessive!Hee, cheating, frottage, mention of strange hyperfixation (like taste and smell), psycho!Heeseung, needy!hee, mourning and death subject, use of sex as mourning strat, sloppy kissing, marking fantasy, mention of virginity lose, cuni, masturbation (both way), overstimulation, praising (hee want u to), romantical behavior turned a bit spychotic, bad/ambigious ending depending on your choice at the end
WC : 14k
⚠️This story unfolds like a case : two possible endings routes (madness or possession) . Each path reflects a different truth hidden beneath the story. Follow the clues carefully... and find the ending that mirrors your reflection⚠️
This fic is a small gift for @bambiihee who I'm a fan off~
playlist
If I wake from dreamless sleep. May tomorrow begin like a dream.
Do you remember the first time you met someone important?
The way the air tasted, the vivid color of the sky, the rhythm of their breath when they looked at you for the first time. Most people don’t. Most people smudge memories without even noticing, until they become soft and blurry, like Polaroids left too long in the sun.
But with Heeseung and Heesu, you remembered everything.
You remember the shy “hi” you pushed out of your mouth while standing there in your wrinkled sunflower sundress, toes curling in your broken sandals, nose bleeding and knees completely scratched after missing a stair step in their courtyard. You remember balancing a large plate of blueberry cupcakes your mother had baked, a bit mushy... pretending it hadn’t fallen three seconds before. You remember the way the twins’ eyes lit up when they saw you, identical and startling, as if two mirrors facing each other had turned toward you at once.
“Whoa, she looks like a doll,” one whispered to the other. The other one faintly smiled, pointing at the blood running down your legs. “A broken one. Let’s repair you, okay?”
Yeah, you remembered.
Remembered how quickly the three of you devoured those mushy cupcakes until your stomachs ached. Rolling in the grass at the edge of the forest next to your houses. Laughing so hard it hurt. Them putting flowers on your wounds: cool little fingers pressing daisies into the raw skin like they were stitching you back together with petals and river water, playing doctors and sick.
That was the first time you had ever met real carbon-copy twins.
That was also the first time you felt that warm sting in your chest, something too strong to be called only curiosity, but too unfamiliar to be called love.
Yet…
It felt uncomfortable at first—like two sets of eyes peeling your skin back in perfect sync. Then it fascinated you, the way people can’t get there eyes off a mesmerizing piece of art. Then you were obsessed with the two twins living next door. After that summer, home time was never boring again.
Heeseung and Heesu’s house was close enough that your balcony looked straight into theirs; lean far enough, hop just right, and you could cross into their room as easily as if it were your own.
Your parents warned it was dangerous—more than once. You did it anyway. They always did too. Even after the room became Heeseung’s alone, the twins would still barge in with comics and snacks every time your light flicked on.
The three of you lived in a world stitched together by balconies, leaps, out-of-town houses, forests, dares, secrets, and innocent games—a patchwork suspended in time, as if consequence could never touch it.
Yeah…
Like the time Heeseung laughed and dared you to climb the lightning-split oak, screaming mid-climb, “If you fall, we’ll catch you,” while his eyes glittered like broken glass.
Or when Heesu seized your wrist—knuckles bone-white—and dragged you into the lake after you admitted you couldn’t swim, his smile too wide, voice too soft: “I’ll teach you.”
One of those innocent games was Who’s Who?
Pure laughter. They’d swap shirts, hair ties, glasses, bracelets, then stand shoulder-to-shoulder, identical grins sharpened to knives. You’d circle them like a coroner at a fresh corpse, hunting the twitch of a lip, the half-second delay in a blink that betrayed one from the other. They wanted you to guess wrong. They wanted to win.
But deeper—buried under the giggles and the teasing—they loved that you could always tell. Loved it more than your laugh, your smile, your pout, your cry. Loved it like a secret they’d kill to keep.
You were Heeseung’s and his brother’s favorite toy
Later, the blindfold came. A strip of old fabric that smelled faintly of dust and some aunt’s perfume. You’d laugh as they spun you around, but once the world went dark and unpredictable, the air changed—almost denser, pressing against your skin. Fingers guided your hands; your palms and fingertips brushed over cheekbones, sharp noses, fluffy hair, smiling lips. The attic was thick with dust and moth wings and the muffled thud of your own pulse beneath their stifled kid-laughter.
Then came the time it didn’t feel like the same game anymore. The blindfold stayed, but everything else turned… heavier.
The twins’ voices dropped to whispers, teasing at the edges, brushing you with fingertips that burned like brands. One nudged your dress strap off your shoulder; another guided your hands to new places—collarbones, ribs, the soft hollow beneath a jaw.
You could hear one breathing too close, hot against your ear, while the other paced slow circles just beyond touch, fingertips grazing the air above your skin. The attic felt alive, thick with something unsightly. And then, for a heartbeat, you weren’t sure if it was one mouth ghosting your throat or both.
That was the hardest part of the game—you never could tell which lips kissed you.
After that, the attic became sacred. You got too shy to climb those stairs again, but it existed. Every time you passed the door, the walls remembered too.
So from fifth grade to ninth, you were inseparable. Everyone marveled that you alone could tell them apart—teachers, friends, even their parents sometimes mixed them up, but not you. Not their precious doll.
It was as if an invisible string tied you to them, some instinct that sharpened whenever you looked at their faces. You knew the curve of Heeseung’s smile when he was about to make trouble, and you knew the way Heesu’s eyes darted away when he wanted to say something but swallowed it instead. You felt like you had a power no one else did, and for a long time you thought it made you just as special as they were.
Maybe it was the countless hours—nights where you fell asleep to the sound of their voices, always keeping your attention on them while they made sure you never wanted to look away.
You catalogued their smallest habits: the way Heeseung cracked his knuckles before a lie, the way Heesu’s left thumb rubbed slow circles on your wrist when he was nervous.
Maybe it was their warmth too—how each of them felt different when their hands brushed yours during games, or when they hugged you goodnight and got too lazy to leave, collapsing across your bed like it was theirs all along.
Heeseung. He was louder. Confident. A lightning strike in human form. One flick of his fingers, one lazy smirk, and hearts detonated—yours included. Nobody refused him. Especially not you.
Heesu. Quieter. Steadier. The soft-eyed boy behind bangs and glasses you wanted to cradle like something breakable. He could hush a storm with a single look, make the world feel safe enough to breathe.
Simple, right? You loved them both—different flavors of the same addiction. No harm could come of it… until tenth grade came and everything changed.
Suddenly everyone could tell them apart. Heeseung bleached his hair in a burgundy shade, punched holes through his ears. His name exploded in hallway gossip, and with each rumor a fresh body count, every fling a carbon copy of you: same hair length, same height, same doe-eyed stare.
Why not me, then?
They all looked like you. They all were you, just disposable version, unshared ones with Heesu.
And Heesu, he burrowed deeper. Books, study groups, genius-club lock-ins. Even if he still texts at 2 a.m., had low-key hangouts with you that lasted until dawn. He became your anchor, buried so deep you’d need a shovel and a prayer to dig him out of this zone.
Life became… Normal again. Boring, like it was before them.
So the three of you rocketed in opposite directions, weren’t orbiting the same little life anymore. There doll had been shoved back into the attic to rot, dust in her joints, cobwebs for hair. How dare they think playing with dolls wasn’t their thing anymore.
You had no choise but to fake normality too. You scraped together new friends, even snagged a sweet religious boy, who kissed you like he was terrified of smudging the glaze on your porcelain skin.
But Heeseung and Heesu hated it.
Hated the sight of you breathing without their permission, hated that you didn’t flinch for their touch anymore.
They glared every time his chaste lips and hands grazed your cheek. Oh those two sets of identical eyes burning every inch of you. Fuck, it was the only pulse in your chest that still proved you weren’t made of nothing : a frantic, guilty boom, boom, boom, screaming I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m someone’s.
But what could they do? That was the consequence of letting go of your wrist.
Heeseung turned untouchable, perched on a pedestal that required a ladder and a blood sacrifice. Heesu became the ride-or-die wallflower confidant you spilled everything to.
Except…
That one thing.
That… Heeseung still slipped into your room after midnight. That every time Heeseung entered a place, your heart did backflips and your ears betrayed you crimson in a defferent way… It’d be a knife in Heesu’s back. Worse—it’d shred the last thread stitching your trio together.
So you swallowed it. Bitter pills, for days, or month?
When did it start again?
You just remember that it was a summer afternoon. Golden light dripping down the walls, shadows clawing up your bed. Heeseung was sprawled across your sheets like he owned them—owned you—flipping through your sketchbook without asking.
“Stop, Hee!” You lunged, joining him on pale pink sheets.
He smirked, tapping a sloppy portrait. “Made me ugly on purpose, hm? Forgot the piercings again?”
“It’s not—” Your voice cracked. “It’s not you.”
Heeseung blocked your wirst with one lazy arm, eyes narrowing. “Why not me?” He leaned in, breath ghosting your lips. “Don’t I look better than Heesu? Aren’t I your favorite?” He was pouting, just like a kid but—
Your gaze snagged on his mouth, then flicked up when you realised what he was doing. Heeseung was challenging you. In amusement. In hunger.
It was a first, when the too of you were alone.
And you shattered that easly, like an addict. In million of soft petals starting to rot the second he grazed your lower lips with his thumb, removing the gloss your boyfriend offered you that day.
“I… I think I like you, Hee.”
The words tasted like poison—bitter, instant regret that didn’t even capture what you really meant to spill, what you really wanted to express.
But Heeseung didn’t laugh. Didn’t mock you the way you expected.
He just tilted his head, dark stars glittering in those dangerous eyes, a strange smirk curling the corner of his mouth. Closed the gap until your lips brushed, and whispered, “Then show me, Dollface. You first.”
So you did.
A reckless, stupid kiss—barely a graze, a dare.
Go on, Lee Heeseung. Do something about it.
And fuck, he did.
He crashed into you like he’d been starving for a decade. Lips brutal, tongue forcing entry, stealing your air. One hand clamped your throat—just enough to make your pulse riot. The other yanked your hip flush, grinding slow, deliberate, so you felt every inch of what you did to him.
Not a first kiss. A fucking takeover. The attic games didn’t count, yeah? This was your first.
You wanted this to be.
Maybe it would finally crack the porcelain out of you, crack the grey glaze of your life, turn the doll into a woman—alive and real.
You froze, a porcelain statue mid-shatter, breath caught in your throat like a scream you’d never let out. He pulled back a fraction, just enough for the air to knife between you—then purred low, feral, lips brushing yours in a threat: “Relax. Open your mouth, dolly. I’ll show you something good.”
Then he showed you.
No gentle coaxing, no sweet first-kiss bullshit. He crashed in like a storm breaking glass—teeth clashing, tongue forcing past your lips with the single-minded greed of a junkie chasing the vein.
“Bite me back”, he pant. “Moan like my desperate little virgin doll—match me—I’ll make you.” Every swirl was a dare dipped, every nip a deliberate tear—biting blood out just to taste it, copper blooming hot and metallic on your tongue, mixing with the flood of your and his saliva he sucked, lickied from you like it was his personal brand of heroin.
Did the attic ever feel like this? No. Not really. Those were tea-party games with blindfolds and giggles no? This was pure cannibalism—him eating you alive from the mouth down, fingers already clawing for more.
Heeseung kept licking your salt-slick skin, while you smelled stale cigarette ash and tasted the raw animal want that leaked from his pores with sweat.
It torched every rumor, every ghost-girl who’d worn your face in his bed, every lie told by this town about purity. This was the epitomy of pure, and honest. His hips rolling slow, his cruelty, the ridge of his cock against your soaked cunt through two pathetic layers of fabric, teasing the ache until your spine bowed—please, ruin me, I’m begging..
It wasn’t pretty. Wasn’t polite. It was obscenely real—tongues wrestling in a slurry of spit and blood, your pressed little blouse—the one buttoned to your throat like armor, now half-ripped open. Heeseung broke away just to feast with his eyes : your lips swollen obscene, glistening with mixed fluids; cheeks slashed crimson; collarbone mapped in ugly, sucked bruises leading straight to tits he hadn’t groped yet, but god, the way he stared, pupils blown black, told you he’d brand them next.
Perfect. His perfect, modest little doll—finally cracked open so he can bury his fingers in it, see whats inside, what’s leaking for him.
“H-Hee?” Your voice came out a wrecked squeak, barely human.
“You’re so pretty right now,” he said, voice shredded on the edge, thumb dragging through the mess on your lower lip, smearing it like war paint. “Just for me, ok? Don’t you fucking dare show this face to anyone else, not even Heesu. Be this pure, this mine, only when I’m here.” His grin was dazed, unhinged, eyes strangely manic. “And dump that limp-dick church boy. We don’t like it. You’re ours.”
You shook your head at first, to remind him what happens when a doll is left on her own—she develops a mind that no longer belongs to him.
But then the plot dissolved—poof—scattered like the sunflower petals they used to press into your scraped knees.
Heeseung hands got everywhere greedy and sacrilegious. His shoved under your prim little skirt, the one that screamed look but don’t touch, fingers ripping past soaked cotton panties, curling inside your cunt with a wet, filthy schlick that echoed off the walls.
He knew the path—had jerked off to it in fever dreams, where he could lock you in that attic. Two fingers, then three, pumping brutal, thumb grinding your clit until your hips jerked like a marionette with cut strings loosing balance. Yours clawed his ribs, nails carving bloody crescents.
Heartbeats blurred—whose frantic boom, boom, boom, was whose? The bed cricked under you, wood splintering, threatening to collapse and swallow you both into whatever hell waited below.
He yanked his hand up—fingers slick with you, glistenin—and shoved them past your teeth. “here,” he whispered, eyes void-black, watching you gag on the taste of your own desperation.
“Taste how fucking drenched you are for me.” You choked, tongue swirling on instinct, saliva flooding, dripping down your chin in glossy strands. He groaned—a guttural, wounded sound—hips stuttering against you. Addicted. Grotesquely, pathologically addicted to your spit, the way it coated his skin like glaze; to the copper tang when he bit your lip and lapped the mix like it was vintage wine.
“More,” he hissed, finger-fucking your mouth until it got replaced by his mouth. “Give me everything—spit, blood, those little whines. I want to be inside you… Everywhere.” His breath stuttered. “I want to feel your inside.”
“Do it,” you ground out, voice shredded into a beggar’s rasp.
“Heeseung—fuck me.”
His eyes almost rolled backward, his head falling in your nape. And you felt it—his cock throbbing against your soaked panties like a second heartbeat, rock-hard and obscenely fat, stretching the thin cotton with every hump.
One twitch, one shift of his hips, of your fabric and he could’ve shoved it free, buried it deep, split you open right there, in a brutal move.
The vulgarity wasn’t even in the act itself. No—this was something far more raw. It was in the way he read you, flipped through your pages, ended up smearing ink across your thoughts, your skin until you were dripping and unreadable to anyone else.
It wasn’t just Heeseung, but the twins’ power over you. The real terrifying part was how much you wanted it—wanted to be their doll, the one they worshiped.
Maybe that was supposed to be love.
You wanted to believe it.
But maybe it wasn’t.
You were still shaking, covered in Heeseung’s release, when he tugged his cock back into his pants. His back was already turned, his voice flat.
“Don’t… don’t think this means anything. Don’t tell Heesu. Just… forget it. It’s a secret.”
But he kept coming back.
Sometimes in the middle of the night—storms with no warning—slipping through your window, pressing you into a wall, the mattress, the floor. Lips hot and greedy. Fingers tracing bruises like love letters. And every time, low and filthy against your ear, he’d ask:
“Do you love me?”
You nodded. Or your body did—hips rolling, thighs opening, cunt clenching around nothing until he filled it with his fingers. You let him in. Let him take. Let him leave.
Each “yes” grew smaller. Hoarser. Like it was choking on the lie.
You kept telling yourself the secret wouldn’t hurt Heesu. That silence was mercy.
That omission was kindness.
Bullshit.
It did.
It spread like rot under floorboards. You stopped crossing their threshold not because you were busy, but because the walls knew. Your window surprisingly got repaired after years of that lock being broken. Every laugh in Heesu’s voice when hanging out, carried sweet subtitles you couldn’t bear to read.
So you ghosted. Clean cuts, practiced quiet. Messages left to fossilize, plans dodged with bloodless excuses—“period,” “tired,” “maybe next week.” You swore you’d cut the cord clean once uni started after summer… Both of them out of your life.
Then one day, Heesu went silent too.
He walked into the woods alone—the same woods where the three of you once played dangerous games on sun-drunk afternoons. Except this afternoon was fog-thick, air heavy enough to chew. And he didn’t come back.
They said the river ran red. Not rusty. Not muddy. Red—like it bled out with him. The same river where you used to wash off tiny wounds from your games. The cops shrugged: he slipped and drowned. Case closed.
They said he looked peaceful.
Except the casket was closed. His face wasn’t a face anymore—rocks chewed it off, stitches barely keeping what remained in the shape of a person. Then the whispers metastasized: suicide? Murder? Sacrifice? Church women clutched their pearls and said Heesu always had that look. You know—the look of kids who skip Sunday service have. The one they get when they stop fearing God.
Heesu’s gone now.
And you’re at his grave, surrounded by strangers crying for the clout of grief. His mother wails about her “smiling boy,” voice cracking like cheap porcelain. Each word knots your gut—she’s lying for the grief, or maybe the memory. She never really saw him.
Not like Heeseung did.
Not like you did.
“Bullshit,” you hiss, rage hotter than tears.
Heeseung’s hand clamps yours, too tight, trembling. Jaw locked, eyes glassy. Don’t, his grip says. Not here.
So you choke the scream, let his pulse anchor you. For once, he’s the glue.
Crowd scatters like roaches when the lights flick on—condolences mumbled, heels clicking toward casseroles and gossip.
You stay at grave.
Fog turns headstones into jagged teeth.
Then—your name.
Soft. Faint.
Heesu’s voice.
Again.
Heeseung’s fingers catch your wrist. “I was calling you.”
“You… Sorry, It sounded just like—”
His eyes snag yours—grief, yes, but something feral underneath. Comparing him to his brother wasn't very… especially now...
“Come home,” he says, voice splintering. “Family’s gathering. You can’t stay here all day, ok?”
You open your mouth to refuse—not yet, let me rot with him—but his grip turns forceful.
Then she materializes. Heeseung’s girl—a new one apprently— the 101th problem of yours. Your reality’s jump-scare.
“Babe…” She snakes an arm around his. The word slices you in a million more pieces.
But for a first, Heeseung didn’t flinch from you. Don't act like you don’t exist anymore. “Go home. It’s for family now...” he say not even meeting her eyes.
Her glare flicks to you, like she could read the now faded hickeys under your collar, but dismisses you as not worth enough to be one of his girls.
“She’s family,” he repeats, slower, meaner.
And fuck, it lands, both poison and balm.
But as his fingers crush yours, one thought gnaws: If, you’re family, why did family did what the both you did?
Why did the family let Heesu walk into the fog alone?
The drive back is silent. Rain smears the windows into dull watercolor. You’re in the back of Heeseung’s family’s car, too small for the quiet. His hand swallows yours on the middle seat—warm, almost claiming.
Your thumb traces circles on his skin; you don’t really notice. Not until his stare started to burn. You turn and see it. That smile he gives at the prime vision of him holding your hand? Slow and faint. Like he’s wearing Heesu’s face and it’s two sizes too small.
Stop… Stop thinking about Heesu…
The car stops. Houses loom. Your chest caves.
Heesu still lives here in your head—laugh echoing down halls, bedroom light flickering like a beacon, that teasing lilt asking if you want a drink when you always said no, while his fingers “accidentally” brush your hair too long like he always did.
You can’t go in. Not now… Maybe not ever.
“Hey.” Heeseung’s voice slithers right up against your ear, too soft for how he speak naturally. “Come in, please.”
You shake your head so hard it rattles. “I can’t...”
“Please—” The word cracks like a bone, and it’s not his voice anymore.
That’s the real gut-punch. You’ve never said no to Heeseung. Not once. It’s his superpower. He always had that velvet choke-hold and you, the idiot who kept swallowing every word like water.
You open your mouth to spew the truth : “walking in with you, there, is stepping into the hole we dug for him, heeseung“ , but his eyes eat the words. Those aren’t the eyes that used to crinkle first at a joke. These are oil-slick, depthless, studying you like a specimen that forgot its own name, like he wanted to make you knew who you were talking to.
You yank your hand free. He doesn’t chase. Just stands there, rain plastering his hair to his skull, watching you dissolve into the dark fog around your house.
You stumble home with the sky crying on your neck. For one delusional second you think the clouds are crying for you… For Heesu.
Then you remember: weather doesn’t give a shit.
In your room you crank the shower to scalding and step in fully clothed, shoes and all. You stay until the mirror fogs into oblivion and your skin blisters pink, waiting for the water to excise something. It doesn’t. Guilt’s a tick burrowed too deep for steam.
You shut your eyes and there it is again: not Heeseung’s voice. The other one. The one six feet under. Whispering from the marrow of your bones like it never left. Your name, again, and again. Suddenly smelling iron, and wet mud in the water falling on you. You won’t open your eyes. Cause what if you do and he’s here? behind you, his head on your nape as he always loved it. Talking softly about nothing and everything.
Heesu…
Your innocent Heesu.
That night, the fever hit hard. You’re burning alive, lungs thick with hot tar, staggering through the house hunting pills you’re not sure will break the fever—or play nice with the anxiety meds already rattling in your bloodstream. One blink and the hallway tilts, walls pulsing like lungs, floorboards licking at your ankles. Next blink, you’re back in bed, collapsing into sheets that do swallow you whole, cool cotton turning to quicksand.
When you finally open your eyes, you’re there.
Back in their attic.
The colored dull light thru the tinted small windows, the dust particles flying in the air, and that old smell. The twin's laughter—low, syrupy, kind—curls around your skull. Someone’s knotting a blindfold over your eyes. Silk from their aunt’s old 90’ dress.
It’s familiar. You know this game. You invented it all together, back when it still sounded sweet and pure in the way only the three of you defined it.
They keep you spinning around until you lose all perception of your surroundings. The sound of Heeseung removing his piercing reaches your ears, accompanied by the clatter of Heesu putting his glasses down on a table close by.
“Guess,” the voices purr—Heeseung’s cadence, Heesu’s timbre, then Frankenstein stitch of both voices, “Guess.”
It's amusing in the strangest way. They approach you, circle you, one is blowing air in your ear, and you tilt. The other is nudging you in various places and you shrink.
Your laugh comes warm. “Stop fucking with me, we’re not kids anymore…”
Silent
“… Guys?”
Then, fingers—whose?—trace your jaw feather-light, then dig. And wet tongue laps at your lips.
Guess who, by touch and feelings, huh ?
Only now, the air feels slightly off-kilter. The laughter, thinner.
“Ready?” Heeseung’s deeper voice teases. It’s different from the usual... More… Heavy. He’s older, that’s maybe why.
You nod with a slight excited smile, feeling both thrilled and unsure.
Your mind sinks into it, and fingertips skim over your wrist. They trail lightly along your pulsing veins, pausing at the bend of your elbow, then gone.
Others, more hesitant, like it’s asking for permission it doesn’t really need, grazes the nape of your neck, putting your hair back, enjoying every graze down your back, followed by a hot, shaky breath. You’re ecstatic, shivering at every contact.
You don’t need to see to know who’s who normally. Choose and it’ll stop.
You know Heeseung. You know Heesu.
But it’s been so long since you all played this game… And you’re all grown, and changed, and different, and altered. They won’t mind you making it go a little longer…
They make you sit on that old velvet couch—the one that’s been losing its emerald color and collecting dust in a corner.
You feel their shoulders brush yours, hear the quiet scrape of fabric, a faint trace of vanilla-mint shampoo curling into your lungs when your head turns to your left. Heesu’s.
And a black musky cologne, when you turn to your right. Heeseung’s for sure.
Fever burns under your skin. Their hands, touch, copies, twins, glide over you like you’re porcelain, breakable, theirs. Fingers tangle in your hair, slowly, tugging just enough to tilt your doll-neck back.
“Guess…” A voice reminds you. And for the first time you’re not sure whose.
Nails trace your arms, your throat, your parted lips, mapping every inch like it’s the first time a woman’s body ever existed.
They breathe against you, hot, hungry, two boys, two men, worshiping their favorite toy.
“I-I like this dress…You’re the prettiest in it.” A voice breath, kissing your left shoulder as it slides down a strap of your night gown. From the hesitation you can tell it’s Heesu’s. From the choice of word too, you smiled.
Heeseung… would have called you fuckable, a dude turn on. sexy if he felt poetic.
“You're so fucking hot in it…” the other voice added, letting the other strap fall and the dress lend on your hips.
You can’t help but grin a little at Hee’s voice coming from your right.
“Guess…” Again you can’t tell suddenly.
What you believe is Heesu’s hands hook under your thighs, lift you until you’re straddling his lap, legs opened to the slightly cold ambient air. His cock already straining against his sweatpants, throbbing against your already ruined thin clothed pussy. He exhales like a dying man, hips bucking up, grinding his length along your ass in slow, filthy drags. The friction is good, his fabric soaking with your slick and his precum smearing until you’re somehow both slide-slipping-fucking without penetration.
“Move with me,” he begs, his voice cracking, a hand clamping at your shoulder the other on your hip to force his rhythm on you. You roll against him, clit catching on the form of his hard on with every hump, sparks exploding behind your eyes and voice purring small whimpers. He’s not wearing underwear, you feel it. Heesu’s head falls back, throat bared, moaning your name like a prayer, hips snapping very slowly, chasing the wet heat you’re painting across his pants.
The one you swear is Heeseung—don’t dare move. You can’t see it, but he’s staring, pupils blown wide like black holes ready to swallow you whole, tongue dragging slow and filthy across his lower lip, already tasting your skin in his sick little mind.
He yanks your wrist into a bruising grip like he’s claiming a limb, then drags his tongue over it in a slow, deranged glide—like he’s tasting a pulse he wants to bite through. His tongue chases every shiver in your veins, hunting them, before sliding between your fingers and fucking the gaps with wet, filthy thrusts that sound obscene in the quiet.
Then your index and ring finger disappear into the molten heat of his mouth—devoured, not kissed. His tongue thrashes around them, desperate, greedy, and his teeth sink into the base hard enough that you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.
“Feels good, hm?” he rasps.
You nod—more from the practiced instinct than thoughts—your brain’s dissolving into the heat, the moment, and you offer yourself mouth agap: sloppy, trembling, desperate, begging without a word for him to break you open and crawl inside the wreckage he makes.
He doesn’t just step forward—he descends on you. His hand fists in your hair, knuckles grinding your scalp, jerking your head back until your throat stretches tight, a perfect exposed line he could bruise, bite, worship, or tear open. His breath hits your lips, starved.
“These lips,” he rasps, softly kissing, “Fuck… I’ve been dreaming of ruining them. Stretching them. Making you choke on me.” His voice cracks at the end, like wanting you hurts.
Then he takes your mouth—no prelude, no testing or warning, just collision.
He crashes into you with a force that feels like a fist made of heat. His tongue rams past your lips, claiming space, fucking your mouth with long, greedy strokes. He tastes like you, like the leftover copper from where he bit you earlier, all of it tangled with his spit as he forces yours to mix with his. It slicks your chin, but it doesn’t matter—Heeseung licks it off in a messy sweep that makes your knees buckle.
Then his free hand tears down his zipper with a violence that shivers through your bones. His cock spills into the air—thick, heavy, flushed so dark it borders on bruised. Precum beads at the tip, dripping slow, obscene, enough to slick his fingers as he wraps a hand around the base and strokes once to keep himself from unraveling too fast.
He drags the head across your mouth, smears himself over your lips like your favorite gloss, and just look at you. Then you feel his lips, tasting himself on you.
“I’m going to fuck your mouth until you forget how to close it, ok?” he mutters, voice shredded with need.
The tip slides across your tongue—hot, salty and bittersweet. Your body lurches forward without permission, chasing the taste he gives you.
“Open,” he whispers.
And you open, ready to take him as deep as Heeseung wants, ready to let him destroy the part of you he loves most.
The first push is slow, deliberate—velvet-soft head breaching your lips, scalding hot, stretching your mouth obscenely wide. You feel it throb harder against your tongue, veins pulsing like live wires, the slit weeping more of that bitter, addictive gloss. Heeseung groans low, hips twitching, feeding you inch by torturous inch while he watches—blindfold snug, your lips strained around his girth like it’s the holiest desecration he’s ever witnessed.
“Relax your throat,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek in mock tenderness. “Breathe through your nose. Take me.”
You try. The stretch burns, jaw screaming, saliva flooding in a messy torrent that spills down your chin in thick, glistening ropes. Heeseung guides you deeper—slow, relentless—until the head nudges the back of your throat. You gag sharp, eyes watering beneath the blindfold, but he holds you steady, thumb pinning your tongue flat, soothing the panic.
“Swallow,” he says, voice velvet-wrapped steel. “Swallow around me, okay?”
You do. The reflex milks him—throat fluttering, clenching—and he hisses through clenched teeth, hips jerking forward. “Fuck, yeah—just like that.”
Behind you, Heesu’s hands glide to your thighs, fingers prying them apart, delving straight into the flood between. He moans—shattered, needy—as two digits spear your soaked folds, slipping far too easily into your clenching heat. He curls them, drinking the slick mess you’ve made, hips humping desperately against your ass. “You’re drowning my pants,” he whimpers, voice cracking, yanking your hips higher to force you grinding harder on his trapped cock. Fabric clings ruined, translucent with you; the blunt head catches teasingly at your entrance with every frantic thrust.
Up front, Heeseung owns your throat now—slow, merciless strokes that bulldoze past your gag reflex until you’re swallowing him to the root, nose crushed into the coarse hair at his base, lips stretched grotesque around his girth. Tears carve hot paths down your cheeks, but you moan around him anyway, the vibration ripping a guttural groan from his chest.
“Guess.” That voice echo again.
Heesu’s fingers start pumping in earnest, thumb grinding merciless circles over your clit while his hips slam upward, chasing your frantic grind. “Gonna come—sorry,” he sobs, voice splintering like glass. His grip turns bruising—good bruising—yanking you back onto him with raw possession. Teeth scrape the shell of your ear; between Heeseung’s relentless thrusts, you catch his fractured plea: “I’ll mark you… I’ll mark you outside, please, please, please.”
Heeseung eases out just enough for you to gasp—thick strings of spit bridging your swollen lips to his glistening cock—then slams back in, deeper, harder, until your throat visibly bulges. “Wish I could make you look at me… fuck, I need your eyes,” he snarls, hips snapping. “You’re ours, you know that.”
You try to answer—words, anything—but all that escapes are garbled moans and wet, desperate groans around his shaft. It’s enough.
Heesu breaks first. Hips stutter, cock pulsing wildly against your ass; hot spurts erupt, soaking your thighs, your stomach, claiming you in thick, filthy ropes that drip and cling. (When did he shove his sweatpants down?) The sensation shatters you—orgasm crashing like a tidal wave, cunt clenching greedily around his buried fingers, gushing over his hand, his lap, marking him right back.
Heeseung follows with a primal roar, yanking free at the last second. One fist, two—then he paints you: mouth, tongue, the swell of your tits in endless, obscene stripes. He crashes into a kiss through the mess, tongue scooping his own release from your lips, feeding it back to you, forcing you to swallow the bitter-salt mix with a possessive growl.
“So?” Heeseung pants, smug. “Guessed?”
Your trembling fingers trace his mouth; you breathe his name. His lips curve—right answer.
Heesu cups your chin, turns you for his turn. You whisper his name against the chastest brush of lips. He smiles, soft and shattered: “You’re the best.”
Heesu’s delicate fingers untie the ribbon like he’s unwrapping a gift he’s already broke. He’s so close your lashes brush his cheek, breath hot but suddenly sour with something metallic. His thumb tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, but the gaze behind his bangs that flicks between your lips and your blown-wide eyes is starving, not tender.
Still, he use the fabric to remove what Heeseung made out of you—looking like he wished he could too—as you grabed on his glasses to adjust them on his nose. He smile shy, eyes trying not to look too long at your chest, like you didn’t felt him busting a nut on your back a minutes ago, making it a marking thing on top of that.
He finished, circling you back in a back hug,“Maybe…” His head rest on you shoulder, “If I were more like him, you’d never guess who’s who, doll.”
“What do you mean?” Heeseung’s voice floats in from the window, suddenly lazy, distant, as if he wasn’t cataloguing every frantic pulse in your throat earlier.
“If I were mean,” Heesu breathes against your ear, teeth clamping your lobe hard enough to bruise cartilage, “I’d bite until I tast blood.” You flinch-smile as reflex. And he mutter a sorry.
“Am I?” Heeseung shrugs, still turned away, moonlight carving his silhouette.
“You are,” Heesu snarls, nose dragging down back your neck, lips sealing to your spine with wet suction—like he’s trying to suck the vertebrae straight through skin. His bangs rasp over flesh, tinkling, “Heesu, stop,” you giggle.
“You don’t treat her good… It hurts her, and me.”
You suddenly oblivious. Heesu seemed like he tried to defend you but it made strangly anxious. “You force my sweet doll to lie to my face—even after she swore she’d never hide a damn thing to me.”
You freeze. “W-what?”
Something cold and slick slithers down your spine—slow, deliberate, too thick for saliva. Too viscous. It pools at the base of your back, cooling into a sticky brand.
“We always agreed to play with her together. So why? Why having her all to yourself so many time.” Heesu’s voice drops to a gravel rasp. “I too—always wanted to fuse with her. Carve my name inside you. Our doll. Mine. I should shove it inside now as punishment.” He added in your ear.
“No!” Heeseung barks, still facing the dark glass, like somthing was making him stay in place. “It’s off-limits. It’s the rule—If don’t choose one, none has her.”
“What?” Your voice cracks like thin ice.
“But y-you two—didn’t you—?” Heesu’s tone warps, underwater.
“NO!” you scream, twisting to face him—
You scream. His face…
Flesh peeled in wet ribbons, dangling from cheekbones like gore-curtains. One eyeball dangles by a optic nerve, swinging like a pendulum. The other socket is a black pit leaking custard-thick blood. When his jaw unhinges, a fist-sized clot of tongue and teeth plops onto his lap with a wet splat, steaming.
You shriek, lungs seizing. Your hand jerks behind you on instinct—comes back drenched, arterial red up to the wrist. The air reeks of copper and rot.
Heesu’s body lurches upright, vertebrae cracking like gunfire, joints popping out of sockets with wet sucking sounds. Skin splits along the seams, revealing raw muscle that twitches and spasms. He drags himself toward you, dragging loops of intestine that slap the floor like wet ropes. You want to vomit.
You scramble backward, nails splintering the old wood floor, until your up spine slamming into Heeseung’s chest. You whirl—his palms cup your face, but they’re slick, dripping, painted with the same blood.
“You’re the only thing I want,” he hisses, voice fracturing into static. “You won’t leave. You’ll stay right here, with me, okay? Don’t leave me like he did.”
Terror detonates. You wrench free, bare feet slapping the creaking floor. The door—yank it open—
To be faced with… You weren't sure anymore. Your name came out of his mouth and it sounded like both of them were talking.
“I’ll be the one you want, i’ll be him.” the thing gurgles, voices overlapping, wet and grinding.
Your name rips from somewhere behind you—Heeseung? Heesu?
You slam your eyes shut.
Open them gasping.
Heeseung kneels at the edge of your bed, real, human, a cold towel in trembling hands. Moonlight slices across his face—no blood, no gore, just worry.
“What the hell,” you rasp. “That dream—no, nightmare… felt…”
You touch your forehead. Fever’s a furnace. Heeseung’s voice is soft, exhausted: your mom barred the door, swore you were contagious. He scaled the balcony anyway, found you thrashing, soaked in sweat. Stayed all night, swapping cold clothes, whispering your name like a prayer.
“Feeling better?”
You shake your head. You feel worse. Hollowed out, paper-thin.
He stays most of the time at the edge of your bed, on the floor. Just like Heesu used to. Xhile you keep on blacking out and waking up. You heard him say in at a moment, “Call me whenever, I’ll be there…” until sleep drags you under again. When you woke up, it was to the sound of the banging rain. It was night again. You slept a full day. You’re a corpse still in your own bed, sheets glued to fevered skin.
You turn, left and right, rot on your phone, blankly looking at the ceiling. Until you find yourself crawling back to those old texts with Heesu, obsessively rereading every word, replaying his voice like it was a drug. And the last one? Yeah, that one hit like a sucker punch straight to the gut.
Heesu🐿️: "Meet me... Please"
Heesu🐿️: Tell me what’s going on?? Why won’t you come home?? Why no hang out anymore??
It’s been days since you swore you’d stop checking his messages. Lies, obviously. You still open the chat every hours, even under this fever, scrolling through old voice notes like a masochist with a lot of data.
You don’t even know what you’re looking for. Maybe the ghost of his laugh. Maybe proof that you did imagine the whole thing.
Then you do what you always did when logic gave you up since Heesu’s gone—you called. The ceiling stares back like it’s judging you. Then his voice: recorded, distant, too polite for the damage it leaves.
“Sorry, not here right now. Might call you later… Sorry if I forget.”
Beep.
Of course. The apology hits like a habit. You almost laugh. He always said sorry like it was punctuation.
You smile, if you can call that grimace a smile and wait through the beep. You were supposed to say something easy, something normal. Instead, it slips out raw:
“Hey… it’s me.”Your voice splinters. “I’m sorry, Hee. I should’ve been there. Should’ve listened. Should’ve—”
The word “told you I loved you too”, “loved you more“ dies in your throat.
The rest comes in fragments. Half‑played games you guys still need to finish, midnight walks, salted popcorn with chocolate the stupid mix only you two liked. You talk until the voicemail cuts you off.
And still, you kept calling. Because apparently, you’re the kind of person who argues with ghosts.
Until the phone buzzes back. Your heart stutters. The screen lights up.
Heeseung.
Heeseung🦌: Wanna hang out?
You stared at the screen, heartbeat pulsing in your ears. Every part of you screamed NO. But before you could type, another message appeared.
bzz.
Heeseung 🦌: Sorry
bzz.
Heeseung 🦌: parents left for Korea, to meet family... Kinda don’t want to be alone right now
bzz
Heeseung 🦌: please…
The guilt slams harder than the rain on your window. What time is it again? You can’t refuse him. Not tonight. Not when he seems so broken like that, raw, pleading, needy.
You lurch to your window, stare too long into the black. Then you wrench it open. Wind rapes in—cold, wet, invasive. It claws under your nightgown, licking up your thighs like it already knows how you taste.
Across the yard, Heeseung’s window’s open. He’s there, drenched, hair plastered like a second skin, eyes glinting. When he calls out your name, it’s not a question, or a plea. It’s a collar. A yank. A threat wrapped in his siren voice.
He extends a hand. Veins bulging. Knuckles white. Waiting.
You don’t think. You go.
You climbed the slick balcony rail, fingers trembling, rain threading down your spine like cold breath. The air bite at your skin, hardened your nipples, made your nightgown cling like a second unwanted skin.
Heeseung pulled you in easily, arms locking around your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish. He held you there a second too long. A touch too hot. A stare too deep.
He then shut the window behind you with a soft, final thud.
And the world went quiet.
Too quiet.
His house was soundproofed far too well for some old house. The silence felt unnatural, like something was being kept out... Or kept in.
You could hear your own breath, shallow and fast. His, a fraction uneven. Like he was holding something back.
“Hey,” you said, tugging his wet shirt, just to hear a voice, anything.
He turned. And for a long moment, neither of you spoke.
Water dripped from your hair, your clothes clung to you like wet paper trying to shame you. Heeseung looked at you like someone caught between hunger and grief. You could see the words building in his throat, but he couldn’t pick which one would break you both faster.
But his eyes spoke volumes. They dragged over you—from your bare feet to the soaked hem of your gown, lingering on the hard peaks of your nipples straining against the fabric, the frantic rise and fall of your chest, your trembling lips. Then he stepped closer, tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and wrapped his arms around you—soft, almost reverent.
For a second, you almost believed it was… those same soft hands had—
You froze. No. Stop thinking about him.
Then you gave in. Your arms circled him back. You stayed like that until your pulse remembered how to behave.
Heeseung’s hand found yours—gentle but firm. His voice low, coaxing: something to drink, dry clothes. You refused. Took a big towel instead. Said you’d go home soon, change there. He didn’t like it—you saw it in the tight line of his jaw, controlled, swallowing words he’d regret. But he let it go. Didn’t argue.
That’s when you noticed. His hair was dark again. Not burgundy anymore. Slightly lighter in the glow, but mostly back to its original shade. You hadn’t registered it at the funeral.
“You dyed it back,” you murmured, reaching out without thinking, brushing his bangs aside into his signature style.
He let you. Leaned into the touch. “Yeah… sorry. It just felt wrong. The other color.”
Something unsure in his tone twisted your stomach.
You tried to keep the chat light, but the mood hung heavy. You were both drying off when Heeseung’s gaze drifted down the hallway to the shut door at the far end. He hesitated. Stared.
“There’s something I want to do…” he said quietly. “Something I don’t have the guts to do alone…”
You followed his gaze. Already knew.
Heesu’s room.
You both hesitated at the door, locking eyes. Your fingers were ice on the handle—until Heeseung reached for you, sliding his into yours. Neither spoke. Together, you turned the knob.
The air inside was stale. Preserved. Heeseung didn’t move at first. Just stood there, fingers tangled with yours, eyes scanning the space—scanning you. You felt it: the weight of his attention, gravity doubled, every pulse in your body announcing itself to him.
You shivered. Not just from the cold.
The shutters were closed. You flicked on a dim, dying lamp—its glow weak and yellowish, like it didn’t want you seeing too much.
His computer pulsed in sleep mode. Cables coiled like veins. Stacks of horror games, fantasy comics, psych books. Posters you’d helped tape up. The bed you’d collapsed on once or twice, limbs tangled, all-nighter laughter still ghosting the sheets.
Heeseung moved slow, touching things like they might crumble. Like they might scream.
“You should take something,” he said eventually.
You shook your head. “No. He wasn’t big on sharing, haha…”
Heeseung gave a thin smile. “He would’ve shared with you. You were the only one he ever shared anything with.”
You almost laughed—brittle. “What? Jealous?”
“Maybe…” He let himself fall back onto the bed. The sound cracked too loud.
“You shared me, though…”
“My friendship…” you added quickly.
You joined him on the carpet, knees drawn up, nightgown clinging cold to your skin, hair plastered to your neck. The air smelled of dust, metal, and the ghost of Heesu’s voice.
“Nah… You always had a favorite. For sure. Am I wrong?”
You didn’t respond.
Every breath inhaled memories—of the three of you. Then just the two…
Heeseung reached for the controller on Heesu’s desk and handed it to you. Plastic cold. Too cold. Like it had been waiting.
“His favorite?” he murmured.
You nodded. Turned it over in your hands. Worn buttons. Faded sticker. Throat tight.
“He used to curse at it when it lagged,” you said.
Heeseung let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Blamed everything but himself…”
So you played—the same game the three of you binged after school. But Heeseung picked Heesu’s mains. Every round.
Soft clicks filled the space where laughter used to live. The console hummed low. Outside, rain eased to a steady rhythm, like the world keeping time for you both.
Now and then, glances—too quick to mean anything, too long to mean nothing. No need to talk. The quiet stretched thin, vibrating with everything unspoken.
Minutes blurred into hours. Rain softened to a whisper. The screen flickered over curling posters, half-folded blankets. The room felt suspended—unsure what time it belonged to anymore.
You lost track of score. Game-over blinked red. Neither restarted. You stayed—he above, you below—like moving would snap the last thread tethering you to Heesu.
Then the console clicked to sleep. Light faded to dull blue. Stillness ached in your chest.
You lay back, head on the bed’s edge beside Heeseung, staring at faint fluorescent stars clinging to the ceiling. You remembered sticking them up with Heesu—him balanced on a tower of chairs, both of you laughing while he reached that damn corner.
One star was missing. You wondered if Heeseung noticed too.
“It’s your moles…” Heeseung started.
“Hm? What?”
“The stars. The pattern of the moles on your back…”
His voice flat, lost in plastic sky. “I realized it one day, but Heesu got pissed when I noticed… Guess he wondered how I caught it so quick.”
You stared harder—traced the constellation until it clicked. Then you were crying. Silent tears sliding into the corners of your mouth, salt and dust on your tongue.
You breathed deep, met his eyes as he brushed your hair back again.
“Can you… stay? Just for a while.” Simple. But it landed like confession. “Since my parents are gone… let’s stay together.”
You wanted to say no. I can’t. I shouldn’t. This isn’t right. But the words curled behind your teeth, silent and aching.
So you nodded. Barely.
You moved—slow, crossing a line you both knew couldn’t be uncrossed. Carpet scraped your knees. Floorboards groaned like disapproval. Heeseung didn’t move. Just watched—through soaked, near-translucent fabric, through your shivers, through the hitch in your breath as you reached the bed’s edge.
His jaw locked. Eyes unreadable behind bangs. You hesitated. Then he took your hand. Pulled you down beside him—soft.
Mattress dipped. Space between you a breath. Shoulders not touching, but close enough for heat, tension, want. Silence pulsed thick, uneven—like a heart with a murmur. Blue console light painted his face softer—almost gentle. Almost like—
After what felt like hours, he whispered: “Why do you love me? Me. Not him?”
The question cracked something sealed. Something you weren’t ready to name.
Your lips parted—no sound. You turned to the ceiling, to fading stars. You’d thought them random. Never understood why Heesu needed them to sleep.
Fuck. You knew. Just pretended not to—because he wouldn’t dare claim you.
You were supposed to leave. University waiting. New city. New life. You’d decided to let time erase the ache. Erase Heeseung. And Heesu…
“I don’t know,” you said finally, small, pathetic. “It just… happened, I guess.”
He turned. Eyes searched yours for lies. Stars shimmered in your tears.
“But I know when I realized it…” you said. “Fourteen. When I got sick. You jumped the balcony every day—snacks, comics. Stayed even when Mom screamed. Checked my temperature. Made me laugh. And you…” Voice cracked. “Kissed me goodnight.”
Heeseung shifted closer. Your body tilted toward his—like it couldn’t help it. His expression flickered—wondering, almost afraid.
“You—”
“How did you know it was me?” he cut in. “We looked exactly alike. Could’ve been him…”
You smiled through ache. “The shirt. When you played on the floor—the tag had your name. Didn’t even have to guess.”
He exhaled—almost a laugh, broken halfway. Mouth twitched, fell. Light caught his face and for a moment— He looked like himself.
“Maybe it should’ve been him,” he said. Quiet. Flat. “He would’ve treated you better than me.”
The words settled like dust in a sealed room.
You wanted to say no. Don’t say that. But the thought lived in you too—impossible to ignore. If Heesu had made a move… if they’d both wanted to share you… would anything be different?
He looked down. Jaw tight. Something raw flickered behind his eyes—almost dangerous. For a second, you thought he might cry.
But Heeseung never cried. Not in front of you. Not ever. Until now…
“Hee…?” you whispered.
You reached up, touched his cheek—instinctive. Desperate. He leaned into your hand like he was starving. When he looked up, he tried to smile. It shattered.
“I’m sorry…” Voice soft. Splintering. “I won’t make you suffer anymore. I promise. I won’t treat you like shit anymore.”
The apology lodged in your throat. Felt wrong. Too sudden. You sat up, heart hammering.
His eyes glassy in low light—pain you didn’t know he could hold.
“You never really did, Hee—” But even as you said it, you weren’t sure it was true.
“I did,” he growled, voice cracked and ragged. “I did, and I won’t anymore. I swear to God, I won’t.”
You hesitated, thumb brushing beneath his eye where a tear had slipped. He shut his eyes and slammed himself harder into your touch, shuddering, shaking, as if the world would crumble if he let go. Every exhale scorched your wrist; every tremor crackled with his need like a live wire.
“Hee…”
No answer.
Just your name—ragged, desperate, scalding against your skin—like he was branding you, claiming you without a single word.
Heeseung closed the space until it scorched.
Chest crushed to your belly, his head hovering just above your ribs, every trembling, fever-hot inch of him grinding against you—raw, unfiltered, starving. Heat bled through the drenched nightgown, fabric plastered translucent to your skin, his ragged breaths fanning like flames over your hardened nipples. The cold metal of his earrings dragged deliberate across the peaks, sparking jolts straight to your cunt, while his fingers clamped your waist and hips, like if he eased up even a fraction, you’d dissolve into smoke and leave him aching.
“Stay… stay… please…” he begs, the words spilling out in pathetic half-sobs, half-growls, each one yanking you harder into his sweat-drenched mess of a body.
You don’t budge. One hand twisted in his greasy hair, the other fisting the sheets like they’re the last shred of your dignity while your traitorous cunt clenches and leaks for him. Every inch of him brands you—nerves, pulse, the inside of your skull.
Air’s gone rancid, thick with the stink of want, choking you both.
His hips jerk wild—sloppy, frantic, virgin-desperate. Forehead mashed to yours, chest flattening your tits, breath hacking out wet and ruined. He looks wrecked: eyes black holes, mouth hanging open, a guy straight-up melting into your skin like he’s trying to fuse.
Lips hover over the soaked nightgown, tongue lapping heavy, drooling stripes. When he finally clamps on your nipple, he sucks like a starving mutt, teeth gnawing, branding through fabric like it’s flesh. Hands follow the chaos: pinching, twisting, raking red lines down your ribs, hoarding every inch he’s jerked off to for years.
It’s wrong. Disgustingly wrong. Like he’s ripping his own guts out just to shove them inside you. Fingers dive south, shoving under the hem, hunting slick and bare skin. You jolt, thighs snapping shut; he groans like your heat just cauterized some festering wound in him.
“Fuck…”
His hand grinds your clit until your hips buck like a cheap whore. No. Not here. Not now, but why your body’s already sold out, arching, begging, cunt spasming around thin air.
Heeseung crashes—folding you like trash origami. Every squeak, every shiver, every pathetic whimper just pumps him meaner
“Heeseung—wait—”
You caught it. That feral glint in his eyes, black pits oozing a want you never saw before. He pinned to your knees to your tits.
You whimpered his name—tiny, cracked. But still didn’t fight. Not when he tore the drenched panties off, baring your pulsing cunt to stale air. Heeseung never—not once tried to eat you.
Your thighs trembled at the mere idea of him going down on you. Because Heeseung never did. Never once. Never bothered.
But him right now? Obsessed. Kneeling between your legs, hair a wreck, eyes locked on his own fingers grazing your slick folds, thumb circling your clit like he’s hypnotized. He swallows hard, throat bobbing, dying for a taste of that glistening mess.
What the hell was happening? Heeseung felt wrong—different, unhinged.
“Can I taste you? I really want to…”
He begged.
You nod—he lunges.
Nose mashed to your swollen clit, tongue lapping your juices like a starved dog, breath wild and ragged. He devours every tremble, every arch, pinning you to the mattress with iron hands.
Loves how your soft lips feel against his tongue, how you gush wetter the harder he grinds his nose in.
Your fingers twist in his hair, smearing him with you; he groans into your cunt when you finally grind back.
Doesn’t just let you—he joins, two fingers curling deep, shoving into your clenching heat. Fuck, nothing like your own—unpredictable thrusts, sudden scissoring, drinking every moan, every plea.
Then he speeds up. Faster. Tongue plunging alongside, stretching you as you chase the edge.
Smirks every time your nails rake his scalp.
“Cum—please, just cum—” muffled into your folds.
You shatter. Hips buck wild; he savors every second. First time this hard—even solo on your horniest nights, it never hit like this.
You tried to collapse back, thinking it might be over. Suddenly grossed by what the two of you are doing in Heesu’s room.
You were wrong.
“Wait, wait, wait, Hee—”
He forced your legs open again—relentless, brutal, demanding. His hands rewriting every boundary you’d ever known.
You tried to speak, but the words died in your throat. He didn’t stop. Only moved faster, closer, every motion feverish, desperate, claiming.
“Tell me you want it. Tell me you need me.” His voice cracked raw against your skin, trembling with want.
“Yes,” you gasped. But it wasn’t enough. Not for him. He pushed harder, devoured you with every thrust of fingers, every swipe of tongue—cataloguing every gasp, every twitch, like he was etching it into his bones.
Then it hit—a climax ripping through you like lightning, shredding your body in impossible waves. He groaned, his own need spilling hot into his sweats, fingers and lips chasing every spasm, every sob, like proof of your total surrender.
You were his. He was yours. Tonight. This moment. The insane, fever-drenched blur of everything you’d both been starving for.
You collapsed onto the mattress—breathless, undone, slick with sweat and sin. You rolled to your side, pulse hammering, and felt it: his bulge pressed wet, twitching against your ass through ruined fabric. Heeseung didn’t move. Just dragged slow, deliberate kisses down your spine—like each one was penance, like the sticky mess in his pants was all he deserved.
Unbearable. You wanted him like you’d never wanted anything.
And still, he didn’t move.
So you did.
Hips snapped back, slamming into his twitching bulge—hard, sharp, punishing. Grinding like you wanted to bruise him through the fabric. His moan tore out—raw, gutted, animal. Heat flared; your fingers knifed into his hair, yanking while stroking him through the soaked mess.
Coherent thought? Gone. You rutted like a bitch in heat—shivering, curves crushed to him, hips pounding wildfire. Friction turned feral, unrestrained. His teeth clamped your shoulder, growling hungry; hands dug your waist, forcing you down, harder, moans crashing in filthy harmony.
Heeseung started babbling—needy, wrecked: “Please… more… need more… don’t stop…” You shuddered, grinding vicious at his begging, his desperation vibrating through your bones.
You flipped to all fours—one hand spreading your dripping cunt, the other grabbing his waistband, thumbing his leaking head. “Please, Hee… fuck me. Do it!” you gasped.
He seized you. Sweatpants yanked down, creamed cock springing free. Aligned at your entrance, mouth hot on your spine—desperate—then slammed home in one brutal thrust, ripping a scream from your throat.
Pulled out slow—torture inch by inch—just to crash back, chasing that scream again. Every clench, every spasm drove him madder. Your name shredded from his lips in frantic moans, hips bucking wild as he lost the fight. Rhythm escalated—primal, unhinged, mattress groaning under the assault. Only sounds left: raw syllables, broken cries, sharp whimpers of need.
Two truths claw for dominance (all open endings)
Madness (bad ending?) : Heeseung’s grief rot into possession. Heeseung show his true face: he wants to chains you to him only (corruption, grief-twisted yandere Hee, possessiveness, manipulative!hee)
Possession (good ending?) : Heesu’s gone—or so you swear—until events doesn't adds up. shadows whisper your name, cold fingers trace your spine. (ghost!Heesu, spectral fucking, )
Which truth will you choose?
Madness :
The position shifts to missionary, raw. Your legs hook high over his hips so he can drink in every flicker of your face. Your hands fly to his cheeks, thumbs grazing damp skin, and you smile. You finally share this soft, stolen moment. His canine nips your palm. He grins, dazed.
“I love you.” The words hang and shatter you. “I always wanted you. If it wasn’t for him, you’d have been mine.” His thrusts quicken. Your moans grow louder. “No replacement. Just you. No hiding, no restraint. Just us. My pretty doll and me. You and me.”
He drops.
His forehead crashes into your neck. Teeth bare like a wolf scenting blood. The bite is vicious. Skin splits. Hot copper floods your tongue as you yelp.
He taught you this nights ago, blindfolded in the attic, whispering don’t flinch, doll, let it hurt good. The sting blooms into fire, into craving. You arch. Nails rake his back because yes, it’s yours now.
This pain brands you his.
And his make him yours.
Until you see them again—Heesu’s stars.
Those cheap plastic love letters glow faintly.
Your hand lifts on instinct. Fingers claw air toward them like your soul’s begging him back. Tears streak sideways, soaking the pillow, landing on Heeseung as he stretches your cunt open again and again, rewriting you from the inside.
His gaze snaps to yours. He freezes balls-deep.
Something curdles in his eyes, sour, and burning you.
“Why?” he whispers, voice cracking. “Why are you still thinking about him when I’m inside you?” Your hand drops slowly, regretting. “Why the fuck does your head keep crawling back to Heesu, huh?” His hips snap to punish you, grinding your clit raw. “I tried, doll. Dyed my hair back, softened my voice, wore his scent. But you? You... You still want him more right?” He thrusts harder, cutting your breath. “Why can’t you be mine alone? Why do I have to share you even now, huh?”
He grabs your neck, and you choke, not from the hold but his kiss. Spit mix. “Heesu bragged, you know. After that fever-kiss when we were kids. Came to me reeking of your lip gloss, grinning like he’d won the lottery. ‘She tastes like cherry,’ he said, flashing me that fucking grin.” Heeseung's laugh is wet, shattering. “That’s when I had to make that rule, you know." He started thrusting again, torturing you with slow moves. "No one touches you unless the other's here."
He keep kissing, and you bite on his tongue, tearing a groan out of Heeseung. Still, he smiled, liking your lips to paint them red. "If I can’t have you whole, no one gets a crumb. Not even my blood.”
Tears carve canyons down both your cheeks, but his grip morphs. Fingers crush your wrists overhead, bones grinding. “Still you're dripping for me, hm?” He slams in, bottoming out, holding until you sob. “Do you love me? Say it. Say you’re mine. My perfect doll. Only mine.” His free hand snakes to your throat again, not squeezing, just claiming the pulse he created. “I won’t share anymore. Never. Heesu’s six feet under, and you’re still reaching for his stars? Don’t be pathetic, he won't come. Stop thinking. Be mine, okay?”
Something creeps slowly, insidious. A strange kind of calm terror knots your gut, but his cock throbs inside you, hitting that spot he mapped in secret fantasies years ago. The bite pulses with your heartbeat. The blood tastes like home.
"Look I even made sure his spirit know I'm having you only for me, even here."
Right, Heesu was the dream, soft, safe, but gone.
Heeseung? Heeseung’s the nightmare you crave. The bites, the licks, the wounds you both call love. No one else could match it. Only Heeseung. Only he could see you: owned, split open, begging, alive.
He clocks the shift in your mind. Your hips roll up greedy. Cunt clenches like it’s trying to trap him forever. His grin is predatory, eyes still shining. “There she is,” he purrs, thrusting lazy now, sealing it. “My good girl. Learning who she belongs to, now.”
He leans in, breath ghosting your ear: “Let's tattoo my name right here.” Heeseung's fingers trace your wrist, then your inner thigh. “So every time you spread for anyone else or think of anyone else, there won’t be anyone else. You’ll remember who owns you, my beautiful doll. Who made you.”
The stars flicker. They stop shining. Even plastic disappear eventually. Heesu’s will fade too. Heeseung’s eyes burn brighter. He’ll make sure, even if he has to brainwash you, burn the room, the pictures, taint every good memory, places. He’ll do it.
You’re scared—god—terrified, but maybe no one else was ever perfect for you. Maybe this madness is your only match. You won’t feel alive without it lifting you up.
Heeseung lifts you. Eyes lock on yours. The hollow in your gaze thrills him. He carries you to his room now, lays your exhausted figure on cold sheets. You feel his mouth on your ankles, legs, hips, bones, until everything blurs.
He kisses you soft and whispers, “Stay with me, doll. Dream of me. Only me now.”
Possession :
Heeseung pounded you through the grief. Each thrust hammered blow to the hollow ache in your chest, your grief and lust tangled in a brutal knot, as you watched the fadding stars on the wall above.
You can't bear it. If you weren't so into wanting to lose yourself into Heeseung's touch, maybe things would have been deferent.
You turn clawing the sheets, ass high, face buried in Heesu’s old pillow that still smelled of him, memories of flowing, wishing it was him allong maybe.
Heeseung’s hips snapped, cock splitting you open, balls slapping hard enough to turn your silent cry into rought moans.
“Let's forget…” he snarled, teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Forget everything but this.”
You screamed into the pillow— a raw and ugly one., felling your orgasm crashed like a wrecking ball, cunt gushing around him, milking his release. He roared, flooding you hot and endless, hips stuttering as he emptied every drop of sorrow into your body.
You collapsed tangled, slick with sweat, cum, tears—grief fucked clean out, at least for tonight. But your mind was clearer now than ever.
When you opened your eyes next morning, light sliced through the blinds.
Heeseung spooned you tight with his long arm, cock soft against your ass, arm heavy over your waist like he’d never let go. For a second you pictured Heesu with you in this, and how it would have been real in an other dimesion.
You woke slow, blinking at the ceiling stars, one still missing.
“Morning,” heeseung mumbled into your neck, voice gravel and sleep.
You talked talked.
Really did.
Everything and nothing at first. then, the funeral. the attic. How Heesu used to steal your fries. How you both hated the color burgundy now. Soft laughter cracked through the quiet, fragile but real.
“Thanks for staying,” Heeseung whispered.
“It's nothing, you did the same when I got that fever after the funeral.”
He stiffened.
“What? I crashed here after the rain.”
You blinked. "Really?"
He nodded.
You might have hallucinated? Maybe it was a fever dream?
You brushed it off with a shaky laugh, "You know what, forget it, must have been the fever."
You walked you home, even if Heeseung insisted you to stay.
But no, you had somthing to do. Something important.
Back in your room, you check if your absence got noticed but it didn't hopefully. You run down the shower preparing to cleance yourself for that slap worth relisation, and took your phone.
Dialed Heesu's number one last final time.
"Hey kiddo, I wanted to tell you something, somthing important, not excuses or past thing that never happen again but real shit you see..."
You took a deep breath.
"I love you. I really did--I mean do. did maybe... I didn't wanted to loose you and was too afraid to realise that the things I liked about Hee was the things I was afraid to get from you, or some kind of deep spychological thing you could have explain way better than me. I want to be more like you in the futur, and do the things we said we were gonna do in the futur. Like finally get that damn driving licence.
I stick to the plan, I'll go to the uni dorm--maybe sooner than expected but it's for the better. I'll probably still some of your books tho. And... And... I don't think i'll be with anyone for now. Not now that you're not here."
You ending the call way after you thaught you would. But it was your final goodbye to him, and actually to heeseung too.
You stepped into the shower, steam a choking haze. The water scalding your shoulders, finally cleansing your soul.
Your phone buzzes on the sink—you ignore it. Let it go. Let everything go.
You loose yourself in the water until it make you dizzy.
Then—
You hear the whisper. Your name, feather-soft but wrong.
You shut the water. Silence. Then again, curling through the steam like fingers from the drain you hear your name in the heavy air. You whip around, fog swallowing everything thick. Nothing. Just the drip-drip of water echoing like a heartbeat that isn’t yours.
You feel a cold somthing skate your spine—arctic, clawing under skin like they’re mapping bones.
You gasp, lungs seizing, ice flooding veins. You bolt out the shower, snag a towel, clutch it like a shroud against the gut-wrench wrongness crawling up your throat. Your knees buckle; fever’s back, gnawing your skull from inside.
And your phone buzz again.
You snatch it and look at the screen.
Heesu🐿️: I love you too
buzz
Heesu🐿️ : I'll be with you
buzz
Heesu🐿️: protect you
buzz
Heesu🐿️: love you
A hand—invisible, rotting-cold—grabs your hips and puch you toward the fogged mirror. Your heart jackhammers, erratic, skipping beats like it’s trying to escape your chest. You don’t breathe. Can’t as you drops your phone.
"Hee...Heesu?"
You're white, in from of you a star strace itself in the condansation of the mirror than an other until it forms your mole paterns. Even the one who disapered from his ceilling is now drawn, water sliding like tears on the glass.
"Oh my god...You... You're here."
the phone buzz and you grab the phone back.
Heesu🐿️ : I'll never let you alone
You feel it, arms circling you from behind. Back hugging you. Somthing rest on your shoulder, and you know. You get reminded, of Heesu's habit. There's no mistakes.
"It's really you." You whispers. "I missed you..."
Buzz
Heesu🐿️: me too
The towel rips away with a slow tear, like undired flesh peeling. Mirror fog smears clean in one vicious swipe
You're faced with Your reflection alone, and see it. Your tits is being kneaded. The feeling's so strange. You can see your skin being pressed, feel the presure, the slight pain of a pinch on your nipple, then see for yourself them being twisted.
A shadow, a black blooms mark your skin.
He pushes you foward again. your palm's being pressed on mirror, and it's like finger intertwin with yours. You feel more than seen, you feel played with. The touch is cold, but the kind of cold that burn on the edge.
Suddenly your leg is yanked high, hooking it like a carcass, holded mid air.
If you weren't dazed by the whole unbelievable situation you would have understood the moment that towel got put out of the way.
“H-Heesu? You?” Your voice cracks, tiny, doll-broken.
You hear that whisper again—his voice, but hollow, echoing from inside your skull: “Mine.”
Then—you feel the stretch. Monstrous. Something glacial and scalding, pulsing with a wrong feeling that spears your cunt, splitting you wide on nothing but pressure. You scream into a palm clamping on your mouth, eyes rolling, brain short-circuiting into static.
Life drains—sucked out through your hole like marrow from bone, limbs jelly, held upright by spectral strings. Has he forced his way in, you almost can see him in the steam lengthen, twisting into his shape—bangs grazing your neck, a smile tracing against your skin.
“Bed—bed—” you choke, dizzy, world inverting, bile rising.
Air rips like tearing fabric. You are flung—slammed face-down on the mattress of your bed, ass jacked high, cheek grinding wet sheets that smell like the grass near the river. The dark now, shutters rattling without wind, your lock, locking on itslef.
The mattress dips under invisible weight while springs creak like attic ropes about to snap. You don’t see him, but you feel him. Cold breath ghosts your spine and makes every hair stand like a scream.
Then it hits.
His cock slams home in one brutal doggystyle thrust. Monstrous and thick as almost your wrist, veined like twisted roots with a head swollen and leaking somthing pre that burns ice-cold.
No warning. No mercy. It splits you open and stretches your cunt past limits. Walls ripping around the girth like wet paper. You howl raw and ugly with your throat shredding while nails claw sheets that bunch and tear under your grip.
“Mine,” the whisper hisses in your ear. The voice layers wrong, Heesu's but echoed from nowhere.
He pummels. Hips crush invisible while balls slap your clit with wet, obscene thwacks that echo like flesh on tombstone. Heavy, freezing orbs. Every withdraw drags inches of that veined thing out slow in torture.
Your hole gapes, clenches on air, and begs for more. Then he rams back deeper and harder. The head bulldozes next to your cervix like he’s trying to punch through to your soul. Your body jolts forward with tits swinging wild and nipples scraping sheets raw.
You sob snotty and desperate: “Too big—fuck—Heesu—s-stop!' But your cunt betrays and gushes hotter, slicker, milking somthing out of him like a greedy whore. He growls low, somthing almost inhuman. Pace turns frenzied with cock pistoning so fast the bed shudders and headboard bangs the wall like a poltergeist tantrum.
Cold hands yank your hips back in bruising force and make you meet every thrust. Ass ripples from impact. You feel it pulse inside with veins throbbing against your walls and head flaring wider to stretch you obscene.
Piss threatens in hot pressure building. You beg Hee : “Gon—gonna piss, please, please,please!!” He laughs with whispers multiplying in the room and angles deeper. He grinds that fat crown against your G-spot till you squirt arcs of clear shame that splatter on fine air, the floor, and soak everything in your ruin.
You can hear your name whispered, everywhere and nowere at the same time.
You collapse, with your cunt spasming endless and body wrecked, but he holds you up. Strings pull your limbs like a marionette and fuck you through the aftershocks till you’re babbling nonsense, vision black. His.
And it kept going. When you arrived at your dorm. In the library’s empty corners. In the shared showers on your floor.
And it kept going. When you arrived at your dorm, in the library's empty corners, in the shared showers on your floor.
Heesu was always there. You'd feel him help lift your groceries, wake you when you fell asleep at the library, scare strange guys away when you went back to the dorm. You would find yourself in your bed if you dozed on the couch, and the water already running hot when you entered the shower. He was always, always there—a presence in your bed, a faint voice in your ear, sentences shared through SMS sent from nowhere, voice cuts in the radio.
He was like a guardian angel.
But this presence had a price: strange marks on your body and such low stamina after he'd fuck you almost to death, leaving you sleeping for days and nearly collapsing.
Maybe—fuck maybe—that’s exactly what you wanted. What you needed. Unconditional love, even in death. The kind that brands, drains, owns even you dreamless nights.
end.
MASTERLIST.
I need a minute… okay. GOD I genuinely thought this fic would never see the light of day but HERE IT IS 😭
Fun fact: it originally had three endings — the third one being Heesu killing Heeseung and taking his place… but that version would've triggered fear more than any mental unraveling from the MC, and it just didn’t fit the vibe in the end.
Honestly, the only thing I really want to say is: If you felt uneasy reading this… then I did my job.
I wanted to go back to my roots, and for once my theme and my natural writing style actually lined up 😭 I tried so so hard, even if the pacing feels weird in my head because of the gap between my writing sessions + the new grammar corrector I use.
I hope you enjoyed, my loves! And yes I’m begging (shamelessly!!!!) — tell me if it made you vibrate in some kind of way, if it made you feel anything 😭💖
Can you write about reader x hoon are in middle of breaking up argument and reader all of a sudden blurts out something like "give me back everything I bought" and it would be what sunghoon is wearing like the jeans, belt, boxer, jacket etc whatever clothing and sunghoon says the same and they had to strip down or something and then turns into a rough sex
GIVE THEM BACK, park sunghoon
warnings: non-idol!sunghoon x fem!reader, established relationship, argument, p in v, unprotected sex (no), nipple play, degradation, praising. 1,8k
The argument had been building for weeks, missed dates, harsh words, and simmering resentment. It finally exploded in the middle of Sunghoon's lavish apartment, the sleek, modern furniture feeling like a cold, impersonal witness to their demise.
"You're never here! Your career is all that matters to you!" you shouted, your voice raw.
"And you knew that! You knew what this life was!" Sunghoon shot back, his own frustration making him cruel. "You can't handle it, so you're looking for an excuse to run."
The word "run" felt like a slap. It was the final straw. Your vision blurred with angry tears, and the most petty, childish thing flew out of your mouth. “You know what? Yes, I’m running. I’m leaving and I’ll take everything that’s mine.”
“What are you saying?” he asked, creased brows looking down at you to figure out what you meant.
“Give me back everything I ever bought you."
The room went silent. Sunghoon's eyes, usually so warm when they looked at you, narrowed into cold, dark slits. "So you wanna do this," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "Okay. Let's play that game."
He didn't break eye contact as his fingers went to the expensive silver watch on his wrist, the one you'd saved for months to buy for his last birthday. He unclasped it with a sharp click and tossed it onto the marble coffee table with a clatter. Then came the delicate chain bracelet from your first anniversary, followed by a leather band from a trip to Busan. Each item landed with a final, metallic thud.
"Your turn," he said, his gaze burning into you. "My gifts."
Your heart hammered against your ribs, a mix of fury and something else, something hot and coiling low in your belly. With trembling fingers, you unclasped the delicate necklace he'd given you, the pendant feeling like a lead weight. You slid off the rings; one for your index finger, one for your thumb, and dropped them next to his pile.
Your eyes scanned him, looking for anything, any ammunition. They landed on the sleek, black leather belt cinched around his waist.
"That belt," you said, your voice trembling with defiance. "I bought you that.
He let out a low, mocking scoff. "So stubborn." But he didn't refuse. His fingers went to the buckle, the sound of leather sliding through the loops unnaturally loud in the tense silence. He never looked away from you, his eyes holding yours captive. He pulled the belt free and, with a sudden, sharp movement, threw it. It landed near your feet, and you flinched, the violence of the gesture sending a jolt straight through your core.
He took a step closer, the space between you crackling with a new, dangerous energy. The anger was still there, but it was morphing, transforming into something primal.
"That top," he murmured, his eyes dropping to the silk camisole you wore. "Was a gift from me."
The challenge was clear. Your pride flared. Without a word, you reached to the hem, pulled the delicate fabric over your head, and let it fall to the floor. You stood before him in just your jeans and a lace bra, the cool air raising goosebumps on your skin. You refused to cover yourself.
"That jacket," you fired back, pointing to the designer denim jacket on his shoulders. “I bought you that."
He shrugged it off, his eyes never leaving your body, now lingering on the bra. You saw the exact moment he remembered; it was part of a set. A set he had bought.
Before he could speak, you closed the small distance between you. Your fingers hooked into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him flush against you. The heat of his body was a shock. "And these jeans," you breathed, your face inches from his. "I bought these, too.
A low growl rumbled in his chest. His hands went to his button and zipper, and he shoved the jeans down his legs, kicking them away. He stood before you in just a pair of black boxer briefs, and the sight made your breath catch. The fabric strained against the very obvious, very hard outline of his erection.
You couldn't help the triumphant, sharp smile. "The boxers, Sunghoon. A five pair set, remember?”
But he was faster. While you were gloating, his hands were on your waist. “What are you—?” you were saying when he unbuttoned your pants with his long and skillful fingers. The zipper rasped down then, and he yanked them down your hips, his fingers slipping into the waistband of your panties. He pulled the lace to see better, just enough to confirm his suspicion. Cold air hit your lower belly, and the upper part of your vulva as he felt the fabric between his fingers.
"I knew it," he breathed into your ear, his voice husky and thick with desire. "This is the set I bought you in Tokyo. So I think you need to give them back to me."
The game was over. The pretense of returning gifts had evaporated, leaving only raw, untamed need. Seeing the look of defeat on your face, he let his hands drag up your sides and reach around your back to unclasp your bra. Still warm from your body heat; hot, even as you were burning up. You let him strip the panties from your body, after kicking away your jeans yourself, his touch now less about reclaiming property and more about claiming you.
Naked, you faced each other, both panting, the air thick with the scent of anger and arousal. He backed you towards the large, leather sofa, his body caging you in. "All that attitude," he muttered, pushing you down onto the cool leather. You shivered with the cold feeling on your ass, now eye level with the boxers that he was wearing. He got even harder now. "All that stubbornness. For what? So I could fuck it out of you?"
His words only fanned the flames inside you. "Maybe I wanted you to," you dared to whisper.
That was all the permission he needed. He kissed you, all teeth and tongue. You found yourself lying down on the couch, the cold leather made you arch your back and whimper against his mouth. You wanted to go to your bedroom, to fuck on your warm and soft mattress. But you also knew Sunghoon wasn’t going to do that, because this was a punishment for you. For trying to run.
“You know we’re not going anywhere, right?” he mumbled against your lips.
“Shut up.” you hissed. Hearing him chuckle was even worse than any curse words.
Sunghoon’s hands were all over you, warming up your sides and back as he roamed around and pulled you flush to him. Your chests pressed together, mouthing swallowing each other. You pulled his hair and he groaned, he pinched your nipples and you whined.
“Still so desperate. Where were you even going to go?” He pressed kisses and left marks on your neck and down your shoulder. “Asking for your gifts back, such a stubborn little thing you are.”
“I’ll take them.” you breathed as he kissed around your breasts, and finally took one into his mouth. “So you know how bad it is without me.”
“Oh baby,” he whispered. “I already know how bad your absence is.”
Sunghoon pulled down his boxers, hissing as the cold air hit his angry red tip. He positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locking with yours, a silent question and a promise. You gave a sharp, desperate nod. He drove into you in one rough, deep thrust, stealing the air from your lungs. A broken cry tore from your throat, a mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure.
"Is this what you wanted?" he grunted, his hips immediately setting a punishing rhythm. "To push me until I broke? Until I had to remind you who you belong to?"
You could only cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. He moved inside you, the sweat slicked slide of your bodies, the filthy, possessive words he growled against your skin, it all made you close your eyes tightly until tears flowed down your cheeks.
"You're mine," he rasped, his breath hot on your neck. "All this... this perfect pussy... is mine. Your stubbornness is mine. Your tears are mine. You don't get to leave. You don't get to take anything back."
With every thrust, the anger dissolved, replaced by a blinding, all consuming intensity. You called his name over and over again, voice cracking with tears. You felt so full, his thick length drilling in and out of you with unfaltering rhythm, as if he was trying to fuck the argument out of you, getting his revenge for wanting your gifts back. The overwhelming sensation brought back the suppressed emotions before that night, and the tears kept coming.
“You’re not leaving after every argument, get it?” He straightened up, holding your hips up to give a good arch to your back, to leave your breasts jiggling violently that it hurt and you had to hold them down. Your one hand tried to reach him, his knees on the sides of your hips, on his hand that held you so hard that the veins on his forearms were prominent. “Such a slut for making me strip naked in front of you, but look how I got you now; a moaning mess around me.”
“Hoon, I’m gonna come, please!” you screamed, your tears stopped long ago, although he was chanting words about the argument, you were fucked so dumb that you forgot about it. He lowered you onto your back and pressed your legs to your chest, folding you in half.
His demeanor changed then, "God, you feel... you feel so perfect," he moaned, his forehead dropping to yours, his rhythm becoming less frantic, deeper, more intentional. You memorized his body so that you knew he was close, he almost always got soft when he was about to come. "My perfect girl. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby. I'm not letting you go. Come with me, do it."
A sob wracked your body as your climax crashed over you, so intense it was almost painful. Your name was a prayer on his lips as he followed you over the edge, spilling himself inside you with a deep, guttural groan.
He collapsed on top of you, his weight a comforting anchor. Slowly, he pulled out and gathered you into his arms, turning you so your back was against his chest, his arms a tight band around you.
He nuzzled into your hair, his voice a hoarse whisper. "We're not breaking up."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. You shook your head, tears of a different kind now pricking your eyes. "No. We're not."
"And from now on," he said, his fingers gently tracing the marks his passion had left on your hip, "we don't give gifts. We just share everything."
You let out a wet, shaky laugh, curling deeper into his embrace. The scattered clothes and jewelry on the floor were no longer symbols of a breakup, but relics of the storm that had almost torn you apart, only to leave you more fiercely connected than ever.
☆彡 @lilidiors @sungheeke @kookiesnkim
let me know if you want to be added to my permanent tag list!
── when the king of decelis dies without naming a crown prince, a battle for the crown erupts between the kingdom's four princes. follow each prince in four separate stories and their inevitable fates.
▸ hyung line!royalty/fantasy au , cursing , mentions of death
▸ note the stories are connected !!
HEIR ── LHS X FMR
SYNOPSIS ── ruthless. first-born. feared. since birth prince heeseung has had eyes only for the crown and he'd do anything to get it. hell, he'd even kill his own blood. and you? you're engaged to him.
READ HERE
HONOR ── PJS X FMR
SYNOPSIS ── in prince heeseung's shadow since birth, second-born prince jay is leader of the honorable crown guard and a war hero. he is the crown's sword, never once had he wanted the throne, but you, saintess of the empire began to make him question everything.
READ HERE
GOLDEN ── SJY X FMR
SYNOPSIS ── golden boy of the empire, third-born prince jaeyun is a known diplomat and charmer. when decelis was at peace he was invaluable to the empire, but with the kingdom at war over the throne his kindness is the last thing anyone needs.
READ HERE
BETRAYED ── PSH X FMR
SYNOPSIS ── fourth-born princes should never even dream of the throne. backed into a corner by fate itself, sunghoon steps up to the fight for the throne. he fights, and fights hard. after all he could do anything with you by his side. right?
SCENE ──── when you and your boyfriend, heeseung, wanted to take things slow in bed but he ‘accidentally’ slips inside.
𝝑𓏲 lee heeseung ⸝⸝⠀ f. reader genre smut—mdni. 1,438 ────── unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, petnames—princess, baby—overstimulation. ◜ᯅ◝ lmk if i missed any! ──── catalogue! ✶ requests are open!
you and heeseung had been dating for just over four months and it was about time that you both had started to want to experience in bed with each other. wanting to see how well your bed life would go together, even though you already knew it would do wonders.
and you were right.
heeseung obeyed your wish to start slow, to not actually fuck you yet, but just getting off with one another’s bodies. but you didnt know how desperate just that would make you.
you were laid down on the bed, legs spread open while heeseung was between them, his hard and leaking cock just resting on your pussy. not pushing in, just resting on it. you whined and heeseung only smirked, his hips slowly rolling forward, making his cock rub against your clit, the folds of your cunt desperately trying to wrap around his length.
“fuck..” he groaned, his hands gently resting on your thighs as he continued to slowly roll his hips. not rushing, not overwhelmingly, but calmly. his dick though—was throbbing.
he needed to get inside you as soon as possible, but he knew you wanted to go slow. you havent had much sex experience before him and this being your first time with him, heeseung didnt want to scare you off.
but every fucking second was pushing his buttons, testing his will power. he desperately wanted to ruin you, make you scream his name, fill you up with his seed so much where you feel like you could explode. but he waited.
“mmh, oh god,” you breathed out softly, head fallen back onto the pillows. your lips slightly parted open and every so often ,, small whimpers would leave your mouth—only driving heeseung more insane.
“yeah? how’s it feeling, baby?” heeseung asked, his voice already breathless. his tone wasnt anything but genuine, wondering how good he’s making you feel from just this. begging for you to praise him, need him, crave him.
you blushed softly as heeseung’s right hand went to caress your stomach, watching it suck in from the warm touch before relaxing again. “it’s good, so good,” you moaned quietly, his eyes lighting up as if you just gave him his favorite candy.
“can i go faster?” he asked. the second you nodded your head, his pace quickened. not too fast to be overwhelming, no, he knew better. it picked up slowly but surely. the redden head of his cock brushing so gently over your clit, your legs twitching everytime.
“mm, hee..” you moaned. heeseungs hips jolted forward, earning a gasp from you and a groan from him. his mind was drowning in thoughts of just you and with the sound of you calling out his name in such a sinful manner, oh he was gone.
“yeah, princess?” he replied back, eyes watching your face make all sorts of expressions, showing him how good he is doing. you didnt even say a word when you moved your hand to grab his and brought it up to your chest, allowing his hand to grasp a hold of your breast.
heeseung cupped your tit and gave it a gentle squeeze, his heart pounding when you let out a needy whimper, hips jutting up into his own thrusts. he wasnt sure how much longer he could take in just this, with how good you sound, look, feel.
heeseung must of pulled back a bit too much to you because in just mere moments his tip would be pushing slightly through your entrance, his mouth open as he leaned forward to take your lips into a kiss, his hips fully pushing forward into yours to push his cock all the way inside your cunt. you moaned loud but muffledly against his lips, your back arching off the bed and chest pushing against his own.
you placed your hands onto his chest and pushed him back gently, not rough to make it seem as if you were uncomfortable, but back enough in pleasure and shock that you just had to see what he did. and when you gave it a look, you felt yourself start to leak more.
“fuck, fuck, heeseung—“ you whined, not used to the feeling of being filled up. especially not by someone as big as heeseung. he could only fake a gasp and mumble out apologies.
“fuck—baby—i’m sorry, it slipped in—“ he tried to say, but you saw right through him. though, you didnt even mind anymore, you weren’t angry because how could you be angry at him when he’s now fucking into your pussy softly? making it feel like he’s tearing you apart from doing nothing but soft thrusts.
“oh my god—just—just fuck me,” you whimpered, pushing your hips back against his own, trying to get more from him. and how could heeseung ever resist a request like that? he grabbed onto your hips from both sides and pulled almost all the way out before he pushed back in, doing that over and over again while he slowly picked up the speed with each thrust.
the sounds of your wet pussy being fucked in by his cock echoed through the room, followed by loud moans from him and yourself. heeseung was now pounding into you—fast and rough—you were on fire, your mind was blank and all you could feel was heeseung.
“shit, princess, taking me so well,” he praised. his cock twitching between your walls as he desperately fucked into your heat. your stomach started to twist, your breathing started to stager, chest heaving. you knew you were getting close.
“‘m gunna cum, hee—“ you cry out, thighs trembling from either side of his waist, he didnt slow down. he only went faster, his long thrusts making your body jolt forward with each fuck into you. he needed to see your face when you came, he needed to see how fucking gorgeous you looked.
“cum for me, cmon, make a mess on my cock.” he groaned, nails now starting to dig into your skin as he got rougher, pure desire to make you cum. your back arched off the bed again and your hands flew to his arms, desperately trying to hold onto something as you came onto him. “fuck! fuck! heeseung,,” you moan out.
he didnt stop like you thought he would, he only started to chase his own high, pushing your legs close to your chest so he could fall deeper into your heat, hitting all new places to you. your whines and moans never ending, which only made him harder.
“feels so good, baby, your pussy swallowing my cock up so well,” he moaned lowly. sweat slowly starting to form on his skin, his hair covering his eyes as he only focused on using your cunt. the overwhelming feeling of being used after you came was catching up to you. your body twitching and trying to pull away from his thrusts, but he only fucked into you harder.
“please, hee—can’t take anymore,” you cried, but he only shook his head. watching how your eyes started to form tears but your face didnt show any signs of discomfort, just overwhelming pleasure.
“you can take it, your pussy was made for me, baby.” he praised, his thrusts getting sloppier as he felt his high coming. he watched as you practically screamed out his name when you came for a second time, your body worn out but heeseung needed to fill you up. he needed to claim the insides of your cunt, mark them with his own seed.
“fuck, princess, im gonna cum. gonna fill you up,” he moaned. you nodded quickly, toes curling up as he fucked into you once, twice and three more times before he pushed his cock deep inside and stilled, hips slightly twitching as he released inside your walls.
heeseung let go of your legs and let them fall to the sides of him again as he leaned down to kiss your lips, chest up against your own. you moaned into the kiss and let him fuck out his high into you.
“guess that wasnt starting out so slow,” heeseung laughed, only making you roll your eyes at him lovingly. “says the one who tried to use ‘it slipped’, like really?” you fought back at him, watching his face turn red in blush.
he pulled out slowly and went to grab some clean up clothes, helping you to the bathroom so you both could shower. you got in and he got in after you, allowing the warm water to hit your bodies.
“okay, but it really did just slip in—“
“heeseung.”
“okay, my bad.”
💌 ( wish to be in the permanent taglist? apply here ! )
thinking about boyfriend sunghoon who’d be so incredibly eager to tag along during your shopping trips; it wouldn’t be out of some obligation, or a half-hearted attempt to be a ‘good boyfriend’— no, he genuinely seemed to enjoy it, which struck you as both baffling and endearing initially.
the first time he’d offered the back of his hand for you to swatch the plethora of lip products clutched in your hold, you simply offered the cock of your head, watching with the shadow of a perplexed frown, as he held his hand out, palm down, his expression borderline adorable, almost as though contorted in light anticipation. “you’re really okay with this?”, you’d sounded, glancing back to meet his eyes. he only shrugged, a small smile gracing his lips, “why not? besides, how else are you going to figure out which one’s the prettiest without a little help?”; he’d walked out of the store that day, the back of his hand adorned with a variety of vibrant stripes— a few lip tints, glosses, and even a few blushes— and a pretty grin.
he’d always offer to carry your shopping bags, no matter how many there might be; even when you’d insist that you could handle it, he’d gently take them from you, his fingers brushing against your own in such a soft manner— “i’ve got it”, he’d mumble, the certainty in his tone leaving no room for protests.
he wouldn’t complain either, no matter how long you might need; he’d simply wait outside the fitting room, scrolling through his phone ever so patiently— and when you’d emerge from the confines of the cubicle, dawning the prettiest of dresses, he’d tuck all distractions away, a boyish grin decorating his features. “this is the one”, he’d hum, gaze coated in a sheen of lovesickness.
When Park Sunghoon wants something, he gets it no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands, but he has absolutely no morals.
| pairing. designer!sunghoon x fem!reader
| warnings. dark!sunghoon (he's not a good person lol), implied legal age gap, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, mention of gain weight, manipulation, corruption, violent sexual thoughts, unprotected sex, anal play, dacryphilia, aftercare because yes sunghoon's a sadist but he still has a heart.
| wc. 7.5k
| a.n.: repost from an old blog. pls forgive me for how lengthy the smut is (or thank me)!!
His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place where he can spend hours without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio, it feels like time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.
When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, or the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's working on.
He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.
He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of that dress. At some point, it was consuming his entire mind, the only thing he could draw and think of.
Now that he's finally making it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever created. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Sunghoon is. It's going to be the design of the year—of the century.
He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of it all. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.
It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.
Sunghoon still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.
All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Sunghoon when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.
Until today.
He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking.
"Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims and Sunghoon immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Soobin. "I have someone to introduce you."
Sunghoon raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Soobin who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he never really cares about the many girls Soobin brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.
When Sunghoon turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Soobin's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs—the one he wants and has to ruin.
Soobin introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.
You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.
"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Soobin raises his eyebrows in Sunghoon's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.
"Thanks," you smile back at Soobin before glancing at Sunghoon who still hasn't looked away from you. "I'm a big fan of your work, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."
The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt as you cry his name invading his mind.
He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, so eager to break but also repair them.
He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.
"I'm glad to hear that," Sunghoon says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile—stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it shallow. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him, so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex.
"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Soobin begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you."
You chuckle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Sunghoon as if waiting for some praises.
Sunghoon faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you sooner. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, his to kiss and fuck. His to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.
๑♡՞
"Careful," Sunghoon softly says as he catches you up before you can fall to the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.
"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost stumble. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.
Sunghoon looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.
You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Sunghoon knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol during your diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just a glass tonight.
It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the wine, but you had a little help.
A little help from Sunghoon himself.
When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you noticed nothing and gulped everything down. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.
But Sunghoon assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank...
Until you were more than tipsy.
You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.
"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Sunghoon announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.
"Will she be okay?"
"Of course. I'll take care of her."
He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.
You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them by the entry.
When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.
"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"
Sunghoon sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper—a secret, a confession only you know. "Right?"
You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Sunghoon will fix your mistakes.
"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter.
He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.
Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.
"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks—he hopes.
You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Sunghoon as if his simple presence will make all of your problems go away.
You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Sunghoon everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.
You bring him closer, wrinkling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.
Sunghoon breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.
"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days earlier when you came to his studio to try on his dress.
You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly.
He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.
And maybe it was made for you, after all.
Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.
Sunghoon will make you walk the runway wearing his dress—the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.
His forever.
"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.
"Tell me what you did," Sunghoon softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.
You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.
"I prepared myself for you..." you begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Sunghoon wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.
"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him.
You swallow, "On my ass, Sunghoon," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.
"Good girl," Sunghoon purrs. "Let me see it then."
You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor.
You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Sunghoon stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.
His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you.
You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours.
He sees that your ass is a bit more loose than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock—though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not.
He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side?
He's choked you before—smacked your ass hard till you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements.
So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Sunghoon wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?
But you trust him so much—with all of your pathetic being—and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiples, and being the poor girl that you are, you said nothing.
You truly are extraordinary.
He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice, "how about we play with it a little?"
He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."
"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase.
"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.
Sunghoon brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well.
He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you, sinking in gradually as Sunghoon holds your cheeks apart.
"Feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Sunghoon.
When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, leaving his stinging handprint on you.
"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?"
"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug.
Sunghoon genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way—though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.
It's not like you seem to mind, anyway.
After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever.
He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.
He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt.
"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy.
His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out.
"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Sunghoon holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock.
He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin burning after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip.
"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Sunghoon. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex.
"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before.
When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls envelop him tightly.
He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your neck and shoves your head against the mattress.
You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body.
He already sets a hard and rapid pace—fucking is never soft or loving with Sunghoon, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public, and releases when he gets intimate with you.
You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. You've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Sunghoon whenever he feels like it.
"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, to be ravished and delighted to have his cock sliding against your walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head into the bed covers with more strength.
You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Sunghoon's hand still pushing down on your head.
His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and onto the bed. Your pussy swallows all of him, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.
It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You hold the bed sheets between your fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Sunghoon and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you.
He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock.
His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Sunghoon controls you—controls your life and thoughts.
With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, covered in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you and as he holds you by the throat, he lewdly licks the side of your face in a long stripe.
You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers the words to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so badly like the slut that you are.”
His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy. You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud.
"Yes, want to please you, Sunghoon," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on you. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid.
He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you.
It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features.
He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you were on him, how impossible it was for you to live without someone to guide you.
He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room.
He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around him once again. Your hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest.
"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Sunghoon lets go of your face and hips.
You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Sunghoon slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress.
You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and milky skin. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only thing remaining on him being the watch crowning his right wrist.
His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes.
He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction—more pain.
He doesn't mind being naked because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Sunghoon is imposing, his cock thick enough to split you in half.
He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator that has caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, your hole pathetically quivering—missing his size terribly.
He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath, sweetheart," Sunghoon instructs and you inhale deeply.
He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. There's still a bit of lube left on it and around your ass. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after.
He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaked from your pussy. His cock is so close to it and Sunghoon could slide right in with one movement of his hips.
He lets go of one of your legs to grip his erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in.
"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, staring so obsessively at your rim.
Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush down to his cock at the mere thought of hurting you.
Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it—he needs it. Accuse him of having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him of everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame.
"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more force. "Can you, baby?" Sunghoon asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you.
"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you.
"Yes what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain.
His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut.
"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails into the flesh of his biceps, only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass."
You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Sunghoon groans at that, stuffing more of himself into you. "Good girl," he praises.
He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used on you. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink.
The tears roll down the side of your face and Sunghoon can't help but love the sight, leaning in to kiss your face and collect one of your tears, tasting the saltiness of it on his tongue.
"Sunghoon!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful eyes. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin.
"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks a breath through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough.
He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, going down to your collarbones and pawing at your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you.
He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first.
The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation.
It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependent on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Sunghoon because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically.
His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. His finger gently circles your clit to make the pain more bearable.
His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..."
A choked moan is all that escapes your mouth. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his shoulder blades.
He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place—making sure you know that he’s always in control.
Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Sunghoon bottoms out. It starts to feel good for you—really good—and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning.
You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fingers.
He pulls away from you, his full lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms.
He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lets out a low groan, holding eye-contact with you.
You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You love to feel his pulsing veins under your fingertips.
"Sunghoon..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Sunghoon takes the opportunity to smooch over your neck again as you expose it to him, his lips pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly.
He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure.
And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.
"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby.”
He slowly halts his hip thrusts and he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass.
Sunghoon raises himself up from you and gets out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed.
You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Sunghoon commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees.
He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head.
"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Sunghoon's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the room.
He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair.
You relax your jaw for Sunghoon, allowing him to stuff more of himself into your mouth. He looks down at you, watching at the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water.
He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take him whole each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases.
"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, "you're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again.
You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said, sending vibrations throughout his entire body. He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes burning as Sunghoon fucks your throat roughly.
"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet.
You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Sunghoon's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself.
Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Sunghoon's moans and the feeling of his cock weighing down on your tongue.
You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger smoothly flickering over your sensitive bud.
The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Sunghoon can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him.
"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. "Go on the bed, baby."
You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Sunghoon penetrates your pussy, bending your legs over your stomach.
"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed right away, tits moving up and down on your chest.
His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly it hurts. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high.
You let out a high-pitched moan when Sunghoon suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in his fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your cunt.
"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips.
Your pussy clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep in you. When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering you in his cum.
He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made of you.
Later, Sunghoon is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall.
He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his dress, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes.
He thinks about everything that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Sunghoon.
You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five.
Sunghoon knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you.
But that's why he's here, he'll take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his—solely and completely.
"Sunghoon?"
Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest.
"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?"
You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."
๑♡՞
The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them.
But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best.
Sunghoon was satisfied to see that his name stood out amongst everyone else's, being mentioned more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about.
He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you contributed to the fame a lot.
Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Sunghoon needed.
But every good story has an end, doesn't it?
When Sunghoon comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, the city draped in the dark, splotches of bright yellow light flashing in front of your eyes. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes.
You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that happened the past weeks in your head.
It was going to happen soon or later anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all.
Sunghoon was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen.
He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with or without Sunghoon's sabotage. He did you a favour.
You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Sunghoon was feeding you. The bottles of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea.
You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to.
"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, still looking outside. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..."
He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Sunghoon comes home.
"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says.
You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts.
"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you."
Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed till the end of it.
He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away.
How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you—close all of your past wounds and create other ones. He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you—he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.
With intent of moving on faith had other plans, guiding you right back where you started in the name of love and fate
pairing— fwb’s brother!jay x fem!reader x fwb!sunghoon
genre: smut minors do not interact, beauty behind madness, angst, slight fluff,friend with benefits au, friend with benefits’ brother au, park twin brothers, sibling rivarly, love triangle, p with plot, p with feeling, part 2 of you belong to me
wc: 14.9k
-all warnings under cut-
warnings: morally ambiguous characters, kissing, profanity, arguing, manipulation, toxicity, possessiveness, brief mention of family member passing and alcohol consumption
smut warnings: unprotected sex(whoopsie), p in v, emotional sex (emotional love making), cock warming, light dirty talk, praising, creampie, usage of nicknames (baby, princess, good girl)
You shot up from Jay’s arms in utter terror hearing Sunghoon’s voice on the other side of the door. A cold bucket of water drenched you making the extent of what you’ve done, of who you’ve done prominent.
“I swear- Open the fucking door Jongseong!”
With frantic eyes moving around your chest heaved until you soloed in on the locked bedroom door and how the doorknob feverishly rattled to open it.
In the moment the promise you made the moment you left home flashed through your racing mind. To have no more regrets—Go for what you want. Life is too short to dwell on things that cannot be changed, accept it as it is. It either shapes you to become better or worsens you from what you already started as.
Somehow, you single handedly managed to stomp on the very promise.
Jay saw the exhaustion instantly melt from you, replacing it with pure distress. He ran his tongue over his lips as he cupped your cheeks bringing your attention away from the banging door and onto him.
“Shh it’s okay” The pad of his thumb creased over softly as your skin crawled feeling disgusted, disappointment and guilt seeping into each crack your body had. Each bang on the door replicated each thump against your head
“Baby look at me” The attempt in calming your heavy pants was pointless, he had no way in calming you when all he wanted was Sunghoon to just shut up
“I know. I know” Jay hushed, wrapping his arms around you into his warm embrace. You shivered at the unexpected contact, your train of thought from the door gone as he soothed your bare back, “Let me get you a shirt”
“Stay right here, let me deal with him” It was soft and sweet like honey wishing to ease your nerves but you weren’t rest assured in the slightest but he let go of you before you could feel even an ounce of comfort from him
Wrapping your arms around your body to cover your bare self, you listened to every single muffled word that spewed from Sunghoon’s mouth. “Open the damn door!”
“Stop being a coward and face me Jay”
“Park Jongseong open the fucking door!”
And yet never once did you hear your name in any of his sentences of distress. You didn’t know whether that was good or bad—you still felt your stomach twisting in itself.
“Here we go” Moving your eyes hearing Jay who was already dressed, giving the same warm smile that never left his face
Holding out a shirt, he pulled your arms away from your body. You winced at the sudden feel of soreness connecting to your brain from your body and Jay had to hold back a prideful smile from forming, reminding himself of the graveness of the moment.
Slipping your arms and head through, his shirt laid over your body and he couldn’t help but have his eyes rack over. He knows he should be focusing on his brother that was going to quite literally break down his door any second.
His body leaned in and placed a peck on your forehead when he dragged up his sheets to cover your body, “Stay right here baby”
Seeing the back of Jay’s head walking closer and closer to the door, you felt a sickening feeling growing in your stomach. You decided to disregard Jay’s words, your eyes roamed around the room in search of your discarded underwear only to find them folded right next to you.
Peering over his shoulder for a moment, Jay smiled when you noticed the piece of undergarment left behind for you. He wanted to help you or more like he will. Especially in ways you need him.
He’s not a monster—far from it. He’s willing to deal with anything and everything if it means protecting you from harm, especially from Sunghoon who took you away from him.
Not the other way around.
There was hesitance in him once he stood in front of the door. His jaw clenched watching the shaking door. He wasn’t scared of his brother or of what he would do.
He was more worried about how this will affect you, of all the damage that Sunghoon has caused to you, in order to show you what true love is.
Jay’s fingers twisted the lock and he expected his brother to burst open the door but instead there was a defying silence. A pin drop could be heard, he furrowed his eyebrows considering this was the first time he’s witnessed his brother so quiet.
His hand hovered over the doorknob, sucking in a deep breath twisting at the knob but before the door could even crack open, Sunghoon burst it open with haste.
Stumbling back Jay tried to regain his balance but like a flash, he felt pain straight to his jaw while his head flung to the side from the impact.
Not even able to adjust to the pain shooting through, his collar was grabbed and he was forced to face Sunghoon who was furiously staring at him, heavy pants falling from him. “Where the fuck is she?!”
“Sunghoon!”
Your loud screech made him stop, the shout of his full name instead of the nickname you always called him in his brother’s room made a strike hit directly in his chest
Seeing for a second how Jay held his jaw moving it around until he looked over at you and his harsh demeanor dropped along with his heart to the pit of his stomach. A look of disbelief in your eyes.
It bothered him, you shouldn’t be in disbelief, it should be him.
The more he looked at the unlabeled expression. You were too mixed in with other emotions, it was ineligible to pin exactly which emotion was which, which he used to do easily.
Rage, regret, and most of all disappointment screamed at him, he just wasn’t sure if it was for himself or you but he could feel it in his bones.
His hand loosened around Jay’s collar enough for his brother to slip out of his grasp to stand in front of you to shield you—to protect you from him.
Gritting his teeth, he glared harshly with reflection of his anger, “Get away from her” Sunghoon’s chilling voice rang throughout the room, quickly masking the slight shiver in his tone
“She doesn’t want- She doesn’t fucking need saving from me. She needs saving from you” Sunghoon marched towards Jay, his finger pointed direct at him
Jay’s arm extended behind to push you further behind him when he noticed, “Backup Hoon” Jay’s soft tone retaliated the harsh one the other was seething out
Letting out a loud scoff, Sunghoon dropped his arm to his side as he stared in pure disbelief. Your eyes looked between the two brothers as your bottom lip jutted.
Sunghoon waited for a response from you, to step in and shield him from Jay but met with a familiar disappointment at the silence, he unconsciously clenched his lips tighter together to conceal the shiver of his lips that was slipping through his mouth.
Not trusting himself to say another word, he turned his heel and left the bedroom. Jay let out a loud sigh of relief and right when he was going to turn to you, he froze when you yelled out Sunghoon’s name, softly pushing past him to chase after him.
Jay’s eyes followed your fading figure, a twinge twist in him as he sees the back of your head, realizing it’s becoming something he’s growing far too accustomed to, leaving him stranded in his room, cold.
“Sunghoon!” You yelled again as you chased after Sunghoon when he stopped right before the front door, an evident slouch in his usual perfect posture, his hands balled into a fist at his sides
Is he stupid for denying the obvious or is he just reluctant in accepting the truth.
In an internal desperate search for something that could delude him because even after coming back home, hearing the muffled noise growing louder the more he stepped closer to the room followed by the pained call of your voice yearning for Jay didn’t feel real because it wasn’t right?
His body shaking, the build up spilling over as he harshly turned his body around to face you, “Why you?!” He shouted, “It could’ve been Sor-“ He paused abruptly before clearing his throat
“It could’ve been anyone else, why did it have to be you” His voice cracked slowly growing softer after each word
Ignoring the clench of your chest closing in, you chuckled shaking your head softly as the sound of skin slapping as your arms harshly landed at your side, “You tell me Sunghoon”
Your choice of words meant more than the surface level. He knew that, he could feel it and yet, he was arrogant to admit the truth of it.
His mouth opened in response but nothing came out. You bit your lip frustration letting out a loud sigh. “Go on, tell me Sunghoon. Why me of all people?”
“Was it because I was easy or was I just unfortunately the first girl you laid eyes on that would suffice this-this stupid plan of yours?”
The evident scrunch in your face with the mention of his set to fail plan from the start was a harsh reminder of the truth of why you were in his life to begin with.
Feeling his stomach churning as his heart cracked more, “I-I” He stuttered finding the words, “It-It’s not like that” Sunghoon took a step closer to you, unsure if he was trying to convince you or himself, “It’s never been like that”
“What has it been like then? Please enlighten me, just what are you so afraid of?”
That you’ll leave me is what he would’ve told you he had the courage to admit it. He thinks the situation would be far different from what it is now if he just had the will to say it outloud.
The thought of having to be forced to lose you tore him apart beyond recognition.
Seeing the change of expression from him—of something driven by anger to a breaking point, your face fell along with your heart melting to mush, “Sunghoon, that's all I’m asking of you… Speak your mind, tell me what you fee and I’ll listen” You softly patted your chest, wanting to emphasize your mere existence to him, “You know, I will- I always do”
The comfort you brought him swallowed him whole so much he didn’t realize your hands hovering over his arms until they lightly grazed them. He looked up from the ground to catch your eyes. The genuine look in them meant to be reassuring only left taunts in their wake.
“Please Sunghoon” A last attempt in bringing any type of rational conversation between you both
But to your disappointment, he yanked his body away from yours without a single word, not even daring to look behind his shoulder while opening the door, a hesitant step out of the door before placing it outside and walking out.
You stared face contorting in realization, “H-Hoonie” Calling out to him was useless, a burn built up in you as the door slamming muffled it to be left unheard
The weak of your knees buckled after one another, the weight of your world crashing down on you, “Hey Hey” Jay’s alarming breath came and rushed over to you, his knees scraping against the hard tile floors to catch the fall
When your body felt the warm embrace, you crumbled in his arms. Gulping down your silent sobs attempting to wipe the fallen tears away but your hand shook, unable to clean up the streaks going down your face.
Jay’s arms held you tightly whispering sweet nothing into your arms while he crumbled to the floor with you. His body rocked softly as he held you and consoled you.
Moving your head side to side when he tried to pull you up from the ground but he softly held your reluctant self hoisting you up, “Let’s go sit down somewhere else”
You tried to plant yourself in your step fearing that if you moved a muscle, the world you’ve grown accustomed to, the life you accepted would truly be stripped from you—you’d lose everything.
He continued to help you to stand up right, your body unconsciously resting against his as he became the pillar for you to stand. Unable to resist the pull of your body, forcing your leg to move after another.
Whilst being pulled away, you turned your head to look back to the closed door. You felt your heart shrivel as your robot-like movements came to a halt. Vision blurry with your eyelids feeling heavy, instinctively your body moved towards it until a grazing finger hooked under your chin moving your gaze away.
In your new view, Jay appeared with the dim lighting shining behind him, a welcoming smile as his other hand’s thumb rubbed at your shoulder as he guided you again, never letting your gaze let up his.
Only moving forward with no backward glances.
As the door closed behind him, Sunghoon wanted to disintegrate into nothing. His car keys dug straight into his palm, each step of his hard and heavy.
He didn’t think he would be able to walk out but he proved himself wrong and he hated it.
Slamming the driver’s door, he threw the keys into the cup holder, his hands flew to grip the steering wheel where he felt the burn of leather under his palm.
He screamed in frustration, hitting the steering wheel repeatedly in pure anger. He was exploding, an eruption that he couldn’t stop.
Instead of being in the house with you—to feel the radiating warmth of comfort, he sat in silence in the cold air of his car.
Unable to have the energy to even turn on his car since the heavy feeling in his chest rooted him into the seat.
If he took this hit, he’d enter a point where he would never return from. He would never forgive himself for being a coward.
“Fuck!” He hit the leathering around his steering wheel before leaning down and pressing his forehead against it
The broad and perfect posture of his shoulders he has pride in now hunched over his body feeling smaller than he has ever felt before.
“Don’t. Don’t” Each word followed with a shake in between, his grip loosened around the wheel and fell to the side, “Please don’t cry” His eyes burning but he still refused to blink
Yet, a stride of wetness creased down past his cheek to his chin, hanging at the tip to fall. He scoffed to himself in the mockery as he used the back of his hand to wipe the single tear away.
He sniffled roughly in an attempt to remind himself of who he is, of that promise he made years ago—Park Sunghoon doesn’t cry but after the single tear, it couldn’t stop.
・・・・・
Your hand hovered over the door, taking in the design of a door you’ve seen far too many times. You opened your mouth before shaking your head and nearly turned around but the front door opened right before you could leave.
Jay’s wide smile was already plastered before even got to fully see you. The door wide open as he shifted to the side, enough space to welcome you in, “I’m glad you were able to come”
The swimming trunks immediately caught your eye when you looked over at him, noticing the thin see through tank top, sunglasses resting on top of his head, the once eyebags under his eyes completely gone, a lighter demeanor radiating off of him with a twinkle in his eyes.
Your lips twitched. He looked happy.
“You offered” You softly responded, stepping foot into the house
Your eyes discreetly looked around, taking in how everything remained in the exact place even when everything was different. Deep down, your stomach flipped and turned into a squeeze as your fingers twinged at your side before curling into a fist, your thumb running over your knuckles.
It was eerily quiet which wasn’t uncommon but rather feeling the pleasant calming nature, you felt a heavy weight rest on your shoulders. The sound of the door behind snapped you out, earning a peering gaze over your shoulder to notice the obvious distance between the two of you.
Fiddling with your fingers, your gaze remained on the floor but when you were going to speak, Jay beat you to it and spoke up. “I just wanted to check in. See how you were doing, unbearable heat, am I right?” He awkwardly chuckled
There was more he wanted to see. Wanted to see how you were holding up but even still through a weak smile nodding your head. “I’m fine” Grazing your arm feeling him inch closer into your space, “How about you? You look… good” You turned your attention over to him
“I’m doing the best I have been in a while” He smiled warmly prompting your own lackluster smile back at him, “Come come” He took the initiative and walked ahead of you leading towards the patio door
Your footsteps slowed, watching how he walked through but you remained still. Jay noticed the lack of presence following him, he turned around to see you hesitant in joining him.
Suddenly coming into view, you looked up seeing Jay extending out a hand for you to grab. “It’s okay” The tone tender and soft afraid to speak louder and scare you, “I’m right here”
A lump formed in your throat but you bit back your tongue. A tight lip smile before softly talking his hand as he brought you onto the patio. Your eyes immediately looked around, a tug upwards on your lips as you scanned the area, a dazed expression casting on your face.
The splash of water erupted making you blink harshly to see the rippling effect in the pool. Your heart hammered as you took steps closer to the edge of the pool, your mind reeling at a thought—a foolish one might you add.
Jay emerged from the bottom of the pool, his hands wiped over his face. The brightest smile ever over his face, how his eyes sparkled while looking up at you as his hands gripping the ledge propelling his body up just enough to rest his folded arms over to hold himself up. “Pool is perfect temperature”
A string of his hair clung to his forehead. You crouched down, your hand pushing back the singular hair with a strained smile. “There you go” You softly whispered
His wet hand grabbed your arm and pulled you in with a laugh, you squealed and flared your arms as you were submerged into the cold chlorine water. Strong hands gripped you as you pushed yourself to the surface, erupting a loud gasp from your mouth when the air hit your face.
Jay’s laughter flooded your ears as you wiped your face down to rid of the water on it. Whipping your head towards Jay to see the heartfelt laughter rumbling out from the depths of his stomach, leaving you to wonder has he always laughed like this.
When he opened his eyes to look at you, his laughter began to die down, soft chuckle with bursts of loud held back laughs until he let out a big sigh. “Sorry, you look like you needed to cool down”
Sending him a harsh glare as you try to make your way to the edge of the pool but he remained to have his hold on you making the downwards of your mouth turn into a smile followed by a scoff.
Following after you until you were in the shallow ends, Jay looked at you with a sheepish grin before loosening his hold on you.
Instantly your hand flew to splash the water in front of you, he laughed as he accepted the water sent his way. You laughed loudly seeing the expand of his arm and thrown back head as the water splashed at his body.
He opened his eyes and looked at you with wide eyes when the splashing stopped and with a sudden notice, his expression shifted and your smile faltered into an awkward cough, “What?”
The look of his eyes softening and filled with the same emotion he always looked at made you push out your lips for a second before landing into a thin line. The water swished around him as he pushed through and walked closer to you.
Eyeing him as he got closer, you raised your arms up but you dropped them when Jay sunk to his knees in the shallow end in front of you.
The water covering his built body, the tanktops sticking to his body leaving no imagination to know what was underneath. A quick thought lingered towards the back muscles your fingers dug into, the sculptured body that you were clinging onto for support—as if imagination was needed for your mind.
You quickly pulled yourself up slightly but your eyes never moved from his. He looked up at you with a side smile before extending his hands out for you to grab. Looking in between them and his face, his smile grew when the faint piano melody followed by hums played in the background, “Lana del rey?”
He didn't respond to you right away, tilting his head to the side when his eyes pooled with such care when the lyrics flowed through the air. Taking a moment to appreciate the song coming on. “Guilty” He chuckled as the bright sunlight beaming down casted a hue over him
‘Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful?’
‘Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?’
Goosebumps ghosted your skin, not fully sure if it occurred because of the window passing by that brushed away his damped hair or with the way he just looked at you without a word.
A flutter in your chest reminds you of reality. The thumps of each beat in the song mimicked the ones of your heart. Gulping down the forming lump as you watched the sparkle in his eyes grow the longer he looked at you.
‘Will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful?’
“From The Great Gatsby” Jay’s voice followed through the music, melting into one with it, “Or how I remember it… The greatest longing ever known”
Your face scrunched up in the moment, the clear scenes from the movie flashing through your mind as you recall it from all that time ago from when you first watched it, “The greatest longing huh…” You softly said to yourself
Being able to pull your gaze away to focus on the scenery in the distance, “What would you do in that situation?”
Jay remained looking at you, a loud sighing coming from him didn’t manage to catch your attention fully, “I would do everything in my power to get back the one I love with me”
The sincerity bled through his voice and into your aching soul, “After suffering countless time without her, I would do anything to make her see me again”
Your lips stretched back shaking your head at the answer, “I meant as Daisy”
He shook his head instantaneously, “I’d be gatsby” The fast respond made you finally look away from what's it front of you—to acknowledge him
Tilting your head to the side, you saw how the bright smile faded away and was met with the thin lining of his lips, “You’d be with him?”
“No I would be him” Jay let out a sigh, “I would never find myself in Daisy’s position because I’d be in Gatsby’s position in the first place”
The harsh thump in your chest made you slightly shift in the water, the whirl of the mineral made the sense of cloud grow greater, “You’d do all of that..?”
Jay extended his arms out landing on each side of you growing closer to you, “I would do far more than what he’s done” The smile didn’t meet his eyes but it didn’t need to, his words were perfectly conveyed
‘Dear Lord, when I get to heaven’
‘Please let me bring my man’
ꨄ︎
As you threaded up the stairs, your hands ghosted over the rails knowing if you touched them, it would burn your skin too much. With each step up the stairs, your heart grew more active, your breathing became uneven as you reached the stop of the stairwell.
A familiar hallway emerged and your heart undeniably dropped. The same portrait hung from the wall and you had to force yourself to look at the ground as you walked by—focusing on the intent of finding towels to dry up.
Yet, as you passed your body shivered at the ghost feel of a hard gaze following your every move. Your fingers digging into the flesh of your palm as your legs quickly carried you away and past the closed bedroom door and portrait.
Reaching the closet where the extra amenities were held, you came to a stop right when in the corner of your eye, you spotted the closed balcony door. Seeming your body didn’t wait for your mind to register, gliding across the floor before landing in front of it. Your hand twists the knob and pries it open enough for you to slip through.
You held your arms close to your chest, each step closer to the outlining rail ahead of you. The scenery grew into your sight by the second, making your heart cave in itself, a soft smile ghosting your face when overlooking the backyard.
Resting your arms on the rail, your phone coming into view as you unlocked it with dancing fingers crossing over the screen before clicking on the contact that you’ve refused to open.
Instantly, messages that were once constant flooded your screen. A saddening feeling itchy inside of your chest. All the good morning and goodnight messages he sent you even if you were right next to him.
But the more you scrolled down, the messages came to an abrupt stop with you being the final message.
You: Sunghoon can we please talk
-Unable to send message. Message block is active-
Sighing heavily as you stared at the subscript underneath your failed message. Seeing the name at the top of the screen made your vision impaired for a moment before refocusing on it—Sunghoon.
Your thumb hovered over the call button that all it took was one tap and you would kill the curiosity. Yet, you hesitated.
The more your thumb inched closer, the more you grew more uncertain of whether you wanted to awaken what you have pushed deep down to never be touched again. Head filled to the brim of him regardless of how many times you’ve tried time and time again to get rid of him that you swore he was still there calling out to you softly.
The endearment with a hint of an underlying emotion that you couldn’t decipher made your thumping heart come to a halt, the sound of his voice grew louder that it was practically screaming in your mind.
You laughed at yourself, shaking your head, dipping it into a low hang. The slouch of your head now laying on your shoulders with an unexplainable heavier weight washing down on you.
Immediately picking on the hushed whisper of your name at the shell of your ear, you jerked away ripping your eyes open as you whipped your head around to Jay resting his head on your shoulder. The night winds no longer affect your heating body.
His arms extended out at each of your sides, his hands covered and holding the forgotten towel around you both. His eyes looked ahead to mimic what you were doing. The breath in your throat got caught trying to focus on him until you pulled back when Sunghoon’s voice suddenly creeped into your mind.
Moving your head around, eyes frantically wandering around—looking for the source where it came from but you only caught Jay’s gaze looking at you. A light frown on his face that you would’ve missed if you weren’t paying close attention.
“It’s cold up here” His voice softly said, “We have a fireplace I can start up” Your eyes blinked quicker than usual when you heard this—you didn’t know there was a fireplace here
Jay wrapped the towel for you to grasp onto as he flickered to start the fire. Holding the soft cloth tighter around as you watched him. The flames roared brighter and hotter as he softly chuckled and taking a step back to admire his work, “All done” He hummed before taking a seat and patting the empty space next to him
Straining out a smile, you silently took a seat next to him shifting as you got adjusted, noticing how he still wore the damp tank top from earlier. Fiddling with the cloth around you, you extended an arm and wrapped the other end to his shoulder.
You could feel his gaze shifting towards you but you looked away before you caught it.
Jay smiled to himself, gripping onto the end of the towel and holding it in place, forcing himself to inch closer to properly drape it over his shoulder. There was a moment of silence, the fire cackling being the only thing that could be heard.
“I didn’t know there was a fireplace here” You broke the silence with your sentence
“Only me and my mom really used to use it…” There was a pause in his sentence before he continued, “Sunghoon never really like using it, he preferred to go inside to dry up”
Your eyes remained on the growing fire, the warmth radiating off of it to warm your skin. Letting go of the material around you causing it to towel slip off your shoulder.
“Can I ask what happened?”
“That prompted all of this” You waved your hands in a circular motion and Jay watched how your face contorted with your heavy sigh, it was the least that he could tell you
“You know that, you and I met back then. Before you and Sunghoon met” The news made you shift over to him with a shocked expression
He rubbed his nape with a strained chuckle, the towel now falling off his shoulder to his back, “It was our last year of school. I was running late on my first day as a transfer and I couldn’t rely on my dad to bail me out of trouble” Jay laughed as he recalled the time
“So for the first time in my life, I hopped a fence to not get caught and to my luck there was a kind girl just on the other side of the wall that made sure of that”
You’ve just had a revelation.
“That was you?” Your voice barely above a whisper but he caught it nevertheless
“That was me” Jay softly responded, “Ever since you helped me, I tried to show my gratitude to you. I wanted to repay you for saving me from an earful from my dad”
“But everytime, I was near you I froze up. My words started to jumble together and you somehow grew farther from me with each attempt” He pitied himself from back then, how his past self wouldn’t believe his current self
“So having to find an alternative, I decide to write to you every single day and left each note on your desk”
You searched for any deceitfulness and it came up empty, “That sticky note you have for your lock screen”
Not even noticing how he knew what your lock screen was, you shuffled to take out the device sneaking a glance towards the lightened up screen ‘Go for what you want’
“That was me”
A ringing in your ear had you releasing the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You remember when Sunghoon wrote it for you—taping it to the side of your mirror, to remind you every day to chase after what you want.
You were deceived.
“There was no fate if you thought that’s what it was when he wrote that. It was just me”
“I-I don’t get it” You interrupted, “How did he know you used to write me notes? How did he know what you wrote to me back then?”
“He went through my things after leaving me on the plane because he knew I couldn’t do anything to stop him. He searched for any piece that get back at me for whatever I did to him”
Your head jerked back, body leaning back in the armless couch, “What do you mean he left you on the plane?”
“We both got accepted to the same university and when the time came, we were on the flight but he left before we took off… Sunghoon was never supposed to stay home” The thumping of your heart mixed with your blaring ringing ears
“What did you do to him?” Your voice became stronger that he could feel it in his bones
He didn’t want to dump everything on you, it wasn’t your burden to bear. It was something between him and Sunghoon. He just needed to make sure you knew how your beginning was meant to be with him as he could only hope you would end with him too.
“Nothing. I did nothing to him”
You dropped your head into your hands, rubbing at your creased forehead. There must be more—they just had to be. The gnaw at your stomach ate away at you as the words repeated in his mind.
Nibbling on your lip, teeth dragging at your bottom flesh as eyes moved around, the faint sparks flying from the fire landing in front of you to the ground before burning out, “Where were you that day, when you told me to meet up with you at the park?”
You brought your head up to face him, “You told me to come and I did- Only to be left out like an idiot waiting for you to come just for you to not show up that day”
“If you say all these things- If what you mean is true… Where were you?
He tensed at your words, his shoulders squaring up while his gaze looking down to the floor unable to face you. Regrets he’s had a few but then again, he was not going to let losing you become his biggest one.
“I’m sorry for not showing up. I am so sorry” Cracks in his sentence reflecting his state of mind
“Sorry doesn’t cut it Jay. You stopped sending notes after that and I never heard from you since”
“I really wanted to go to you. I swear I did- I never meant to stop writing, It’s just that… life shifted for me during that time and I made a sacrifice that I regret ‘till this day”
Your hands pulled yourself up in surprise, shifting in your seat left to watch how Jay came kneeling down in front of you. A failed attempt in trying to get him to stand as he stayed rooted in place. “But I’m done making sacrifices to make everyone else happy. I’m going to do what I want”
“And I know I want you. I’ll wait for you if you need time—I’ll give you all the time in the world if you need it. If you need to use someone” He taps at his chest in an offer of himself to you, “Use me. I don’t care if it’s because you need to get over him or just to get your anger out”
“I just want to show you how you deserved to be treated and cared for. With just pure intentions, no malicious intent”
“Jay-” You softly grabbed his hands but he reached up and engulfed your hands into his, the callous feel creasing over your skin as you felt the roughness of them
His thumb rubbed circles over your hand, his glassy eyes staring at you, not sure if it came from the overwhelming emotions or the dust particles flowing through the air seeping into his eyes, “Won’t you let me in?”
ꨄ︎
So many people for such a spontaneous celebration that you made last minute.
The small party was buzzing with light chatter. Your eyes looked around taking it all in. A few months passed down the line without a stop and it wasn’t to your surprise when Jay was standing at your doorstep with a wide smile engulfing you into a tight hug as he broke the news of his successful inheritance of his father’s company.
Choosing to celebrate this achievement for him even when he said a dinner with you would be more than enough—You wanted to give him more. You weren’t sure the drive behind wanting to create this party for him, masking it with a want to shed light on his grand accomplishment.
Yet, the gnawing at your stomach as your eyes scanned across the room only grew larger.
Jay smiled ear to ear as he accepted the countless praises, congratulations, and shaking hands that were offered to him. His cheeks hurt from how much he’s been smiling but it didn’t stop him from shifting his eyes to the side to see you standing with a kind smile. Regardless how many times he’s seen it, he feels like when he first met you.
This is it. Everything he’s longed for has come to life after waiting and dreaming for.
When his father clinked his glass with a fork to garner everyone’s attention, he looked away just for a second with knitted brows but his smile never left him. “Wonder what he’s going to say-“ He started to whisper expecting to see you next to him but instead found you gone
Moving his head back to scan around the room to find you but stopped his actions when his names were called out with a gleeful tone.
“Jay. Jongseong. My eldest son” His father raised his glass to him, “Even if you struggled along the way, it makes me proud of the man you have become”
“That you finally found your righteousness in the world—-where you’re meant to be. Stand for what sticks, not for what falls” Jay pressed his lips into a thin line as he awkwardly raised his glass to his father’s words
“But I have a surprise for you” His father looked around to everyone in the room, a deep laugh joining in his words, “Joining us after so long, finally deciding to show up today. Just unable to miss out on this wonderful day”
“Pleased to say my other son—Jongseong’s twin will like to say a few words after being gone for some time” His father introduced and the room fell silent
After moving to grab a camera to capture the supposed sweet moment, the artifact nearly slipped through when your eyes zeroed in and as if everything around you faded to dust and slowed down towards the walking male onto the stage.
Sunghoon looked different from the last time you saw him.
His hair swooped to the side, framing the shape of his forehead but leaving enough room to show it, his sharp eyes crinkled in the light as his jaw screwed shut managing to make it seem sharper than before, his cheekbones rising slightly hollow and high. The sleek black suit clinging to his body perfectly, outlining the now grown muscles.
The sharp eyes scanned across the room until they found yours. Remaining focused on you for a second longer, he turned away showcasing the smile you haven’t seen in a while—a sinister twist to it making your blood run cold.
“Bravo. May I just say bravo” Sunghoon raised the glass in hand, “A toast to my brother” His mellow voice called out loud enough for everyone’s attention to draw to the unexpected guest
“From your brother who’s always by your side”
Jay, unable to move from the spotlight shone on him by Sunghoon. Having to remain still and collected as all eyes were on them, his frantic eyes searched the crowd to see where he lost you before he looked back to Sunghoon whose grin grew larger.
“I am beyond impressed with what you have accomplished. There was always talks of who would take over of what but I’m glad that each of us gained something through the sacrifices of others”
“Hopefully you are able to cherish what others have done to make sure you reached this point in your life. A life where you may have regrets that only shape you further into whatever path you wish to follow”
“May you always satisfied Jongseong” Sunghoon raised his glass high looking around the crowded room as everyone mimicked the process
Your eyes burned from unblinking, afraid that if you did, he would disappear right before you. Sunghoon brought the glass to his lips, drinking in the bitter liquor to his tongue but as he threw his head back, his eyes never once moved from yours.
The glass coming into view provided the perfect coverage of his growing smirk.
Jay chose flight in the fight or flight mode he was in once he realized where his brother’s eyes were on. A rage filled in him and his body moved on its own but he halted when someone lightly tapped his shoulder.
Sorin smiled warmly at him as she softly called out his name and embraced him into a hug he didn't reciprocate, “Congratulations Jay!” Her voice pitched higher after finally be able to reconcile in person after so long
As rude as it may have sounded in his mind, he could care less of Sorin’s presence because she wasn’t you.
He tried to move his body in order to find you only to see the path clearing up where you stood watching Sunghoon approaching you, a sly smirk on his face once he was in front of you.
You stared at him in disbelief. Your heart churned in itself as your eyes raked over him—taking in his appearance and how you thought nothing changed while everything did in fact change. “W-What…” Your voice trailed off
He lightly chuckled, different from what you used to hear, it didn’t reach his eyes or show the row of teeth with the sharp ones peeking out. It was a polite and polished smile.
Swirling the empty glass at hand as he tilted his head, “Didn’t think I would miss out on my own twin brother’s celebration party did you?”
“What are you actually doing here Sunghoon?” Your voice dropped and his smirked rose as he lifted his hands up, placing the now empty glass on a passing tray
“You’ve out done yourself” He dejected the subjected as he looked around to the bustling party, “I can tell you made this party”
“Jay wouldn’t have made this much effort to celebrate his own success or would our dad do something small like this… This is Jongseong we’re talking about, the success that was always meant to be followed”
Your eyes glared at him. Unsure of the raging emotion binding up was for him showing up after being away for months or if the flutter in your heart was something else.
Attempting to walk away in search of Jay, Sunghoon’s hands grasped your shoulders. You silently hissed at the familiar feel resting on your skin, however uncontrollably your body melted into the contrasting warmth and cold touch on your skin.
Sunghoon’s lips tugged upwards as he stood behind you, his gold feather-like but still demanding of holding you in place. His thumb traces circles, “Guess some old-habits don’t die” He softly chuckled
Guiding you from where you stood to the perfect sight of where Jay interacted with someone you’re sure you didn’t invite. A frown grew on your face and he watched every twitch of your expression change.
Sorin places a hand at Jay’s arm with a fond smile on her face, eyes sparkling brightly as he gives a chuckle as he speaks, making her erupt into a fit of giggles—all while inching closer to him.
Your chin is lifted away and turned to look back at Sunghoon softly shaking his head, his lips smacking against his teeth, “Now I am positive… Old habits never die”
His words were more menacing and heavier than what they meant on the surface. Your stomach felt weird as you looked at him with wide eyes, he softly stroked your cheek, his gaze flickering to Jay and Sorin—seeing him pry her hand off his.
But what you didn’t know wouldn’t kill you.
Jay peers around the room and finally stumbles upon you and Sunghoon. He saw the way he held you, his chest pressing so close to your back as he held your chin. Jay fists grew tighter at his side as he tried to excuse him, but Sorin wouldn’t let him go just like that after so long.
“Do you hate him?” The fingers gripped deeper into your shoulders as the hold on your chin became tighter but still managing to pull your head to face him on your own
He could see the whirling in your mind from his words because why in the world would you hate Jay in the first place?
“Or is it me that you hate? Do you resent me? Fucking loath me for what I’ve done?”
You roughly push his digging fingers away, turning your body around with a muffled strain. His eyes flickered behind you and he engulfed your hands into his, your body melting away all tension immediately as your hand fell into his.
His smirk changed into a smile—the one you knew of, the one you used to receive.
He brought your hand up to his lips, softly grazing it with planting a soft kiss on top of it, “Talk to you soon… Princess” Hearing the weared out nickname again made your heart jump before falling into the pit of your stomach
Softly bringing your hand back to your side, he nodded his head walking away to disappear into the sea of people without another word but your eyes never left his fading figure once.
Suddenly, a hand on your shoulder spun you around. Jay’s worried face lightened up finally having you back with him, he cupped your jaw, turning it around as his lips shivered, “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you right?”
You couldn’t even respond before he wrapped a hand around your wrist and dragged you towards the exit—the party already ending in his mind.
Unable to wrap your head to comprehend seeing Sunghoon in so long that you aimlessly followed. A foot followed after another as you reached closer to the exit. Still, turning your head and there you saw Sunghoon staring right at you, unmoving of the position you left him in.
The girl you had seen talking to Jay suddenly reappeared besides Sunghoon, shifting her eyes onto you and Jay’s fading figure. She mumbled something which he dismissed, Sunghoon remained his line of sight on your terror-filled face.
Even if you turned from Sunghoon all to turned behind, peering over your shoulder to see him. He smirked, stuffing his hand in his pockets as he watched you and Jay disappear.
Sunghoon remained lingering in your mind, regardless of the time passed and attempting to forget who tainted you. He will forever haunt you. He was always there in the back of your mind.
ᥫ᭡.
Watching the buildings passing through the window, the lights embedding in and lighting up the night with hope, dreams, happiness.
With any chance he gets, Jay looks over to you at every red light and anticipates something—anything from you. To his disappointment or fear still unsure of what it is, you remain silent with a turned away head focusing on the outside.
It was like that for the rest of the car ride until he parked in front of your place. Shifting the gear into park, he let out a silent sigh as he stared at the steering wheel. Fingers danced against it and he was going to step out of his car to open your door but stopped when you spoke, “Did you know?”
He whipped his head towards you in bewilderment, “Of course not. I didn’t know he was going to show up. I haven’t heard a single thing from him or about him ever since he left that night”
Your hands balled on your lap as you focused on the creasing on them. Holding back on your tongue, you lightly shook your head, “Then how did he know to show up? I made the party for you”
“My dad must’ve told him- I don’t know! But I swear I wasn’t the one that did” His hand reached out to hover your cheek, “Please baby-“
You swatted his hand away, turning to the door before pulling at the handle and letting yourself out. Jay watched in disbelief in the sweat you once sat in.
Quickly, he rushed out and slammed the door behind him chasing after you with soft calls of your name. It wasn’t until he pulled at your arm to turn you around once you were at your front door, “Please listen to me!”
“Don’t start, please” You softly pulled from his grip, “I can’t do this- Not right now”
“What is there to deal with? So he shows up and that’s it?”
“Who was she Jay, the one you were talking to after his speech, who was she?” He stays silent, his mouth opening and closing trying to form the proper sentence that didn’t expose much but also eased you
“She’s just an old friend” Through his words you knew there was more than just that and it shattered your heart, another vague coverup from the truth
You sighed before jamming your keys into your lock and twisted the doorknob. Shuffling behind you, Jay stood beside his breathing heavy and you could feel his eyes pouring into you
Roughly closing your eyes, you chuckled softly before shaking your head, “Not today Jay”
“So you’re just going to give up? When we were doing good? It’s all gone because he finally shows up?” He softly grasped at your arm to pull away from the doorknob
“Jay please-”
“No I’m sorry but we have to talk about this. We can’t just fall apart like that all because he decides to come back and ruin everything”
His mind filled with thoughts that he grew a headache, “You-You can’t go back to him. You just can’t!”
“Who said anything about going back to-”
“You can’t have the both of us!” Jay voices grew louder with each syllable and something shifted in your mind, he could tell in the way your eyes narrowed and a scowl formed in your face
A flash glistened over your eyes, your mouth tugging into a frown,"I never wanted both” Your voice never raised louder than how you were speaking, he understood your words perfectly, it’s the first coherent thing he’s ever heard
You opened your mouth to follow up but you closed your mouth to push open your door before closing it behind with no second glances back at him. You let out a shudder of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
Jay stays outside of your door, his hand hovered over ready to knock but he stops midway as he drops his arm to his side. His shoulder slouched as he looked at the closed door.
His jaw clenched before fishing out his phone from his pocket, dialing the number after opening the contact and bringing his phone to press against his ear as he walked back to his car.
Taking one last glance to your place until stepping into his car when the phone line pinged.
“Jay?”
“What are you playing at Sorin?”
ꨄ︎
Go for what you want. Looking at the sticky note attached to your mirror, you caught a glimpse of your glooming self.
Your fingers traced over the sticky note, humming softly at the end seeing the small signature at the corner signaling Sunghoon's unerasable presence. The phone in hand pushed further into your palm as your grip grew tighter. Your jaw clenched before bringing your phone to your ear after one click.
Your palms felt sweaty and your heart hammered out of your chest while anticipation settles in until the first ring rushes out your speaker. Quickly pulling your phone away to hang up the call, you looked at your screen with heavy pants.
Sunghoon’s contact came back into frame as you felt a shiver run up your spine in realization.
While, the moment Sunghoon received the call he couldn’t help but laugh, noticing the abrupt end of it before he could even answer. His lips landed into an undeniable pout at the thought He knew you only needed one ring to know but he still wished you gave him the chance to answer.
His hand landed on both his hands reaching over to open the chat he’s refused to look at for months but the slam of the door stopped him. He looked up but utterly gasped when he saw a fist swinging his way.
Barely being able to miss the punch, he turned around to stumble over his feet with haste only to see Jay heaving in anger.
“You’re a monster Sunghoon”
He laughed when the words left his twin brother’s mouth, a genuine stomach laugh rumbling from deep within his stomach all while he straightened out his folded upright, he knitted his eyebrows together with a smile creeping on his face.
He used to believe he was no monster, simply existenting with the fact of being overlooked by the Jay shaped shadow that haunted his life, that he wanted to escape from but things have changed.
Time apart from you made him quickly realize he was no good person from the moment he decided to chase after you. He comes to accept that he’s been a monster from the very start.
“And you’re some saint?” He snorted, “A god that she’s supposed to look up to for salvation?”
“Give me a break Jay”
“Does it not mean anything to you?!” Jay yelled, shaking Sunghoon’s collar in a rough manner once his hands clasped at it, “Leave us alone! Why can’t you just let her be?” Jay’s voice fell lowers earning a scoff from his brother
Sunghoon laughed, throwing his head back, the chuckle rumbling his chest in a warm manner making his cheeks hurt from how much he was laughing. “Let her be? She will never be free if she’s with you” He emphasized the end of his sentence
“Don’t you realize that you’re like some parasite between us? Always taking and taking what isn’t yours”
Jay’s hand loosened around Sunghoon’s shirt staring at his brother wide eyed, “She never needed saving from me but now with you in your life, I think she can finally realize she needs saving from you”
“You’re the one that needs to realize what you’re doing. You’re making her succumb and confide in you for the sake of what?”
Sunghoon tilted his head as he peered Jay off, “Love? True love?” He darkly laughed at his own words, “Please”
“Show some compassion Sunghoon” Jay’s word were heavy on his tongue but he could feel the glare his brother gave him
“Because you showed me compassion?” Sunghoon gripped Jay’s wrist and pushed him off, scoffing at the antics his brother was throwing
“You don’t get to have her Jay” He roughly shook his head, “You don’t get it through that thick skull of yours that you can’t have her”
Jay scoffed, his finger reaching to push against his chest, “That makes you a hypocrite you know”
He could feel the question gaze Sunghoon sent him but Jay only smirked before retreating his hand away, “Because if she can’t be with me? What makes you so worthy of being with her?”
“You don’t get to want her Sunghoon” Jay laughed blissfully unaware of the glint shimmering over his brother’s eyes once he heard the follow up words, ”She was never yours to begin with”
And how sure of that, are you Jongseong?
・・・・・
There was a knock at your door that stumped you in your tracks. Eyebrows creased in the middle releasing it almost instantly as you shook your head, choosing to walk over to your front door before hastily unlocking and opening it.
“Jay I thought we agreed on space” Your sighed but stopped once you realized, you had mistaken it for the wrong brother
Your body stunned at the sight of Sunghoon looking around until the sounds of his brother’s name came from your mouth, “Wrong brother, try again” He heartily joked and you felt the twist inside of you
“I- What are you doing here?” You asked, the grip on your door tighter as he watched how you didn’t laugh as his poor joke
“I don’t mean to intrude. I just figured after we met at the party after not seeing each other for months, I just thought it was appropriate to finally return your stuff back” He smiled showing the rows of teeth but looking over at him and he empty handed
“Can I come in?” And instead of waiting for a response, he just maneuvered his way past and into your place without another word uttered
You blinked harshly, unable to get a word out, closing the door behind him as your feet moved quickly to trail after him.
“I don’t remember leaving- You aren’t holding anything” You pointed out noticing the lack of bulked items at hand but he only looked around your place with glassy eyes
“Nothing has changed” He muttered under his breath more for himself but you managed to hear him loud and clear
“Sunghoon” You sternly called out his name and instead of responding his back turned around and you were greeted with his sweet smile as his hand extended out and grazed across your wall
“How are you?” The simple question felt more than just curiosity
You softly gulped unmoving your eyes from him, “Good” Choosing only to respond with nothing more than just one syllable, even if it may not be a direct reflection of you right now
“Really?” Sunghoon’s voice was soft, “Ahh” He faintly scoffed, “Why does it annoy me so much to hear that you’re doing okay”
Your mouth fell open as you glanced around his face—searching for a sign of unfaithfulness in his words but they were genuine. Sunghoon’s words were raw and true mimicking the tone of voice.
“You know I tried to forget about you, I really did” He looked to your floor as if they were the more interesting item in your place even though he knew that you stand right in front of him—where he actually wanted to look
“It was pointless obviously”
“And how do you know that?” Your reply made him breath through his nose
”Because I wouldn’t be standing here right now if I was. Plus how could I forget you? You haunt me every waking moment”
“I can’t forget you no matter how hard I try. Scrubbed at my skin during every shower trying to get your touch off my skin after practically living in the gym with hopes of burning you out of me” Sunghoon sucked in a breath as his voice grew more agitated
“But as I lay awake at night no matter where I am, I dream about you. You were always there. Your eyes, smile, laughter, your terrible attempted jokes, everything that was connected to you was burned into my mind—forced to accustom to the lack of you even though I had you”
“Because we were together-“
You stepped in and interrupted, “No we weren’t Sunghoon” Your voice defeated, “It-It was fake- What we were was just some joke”
He shook his head violently, “No. It wasn’t a joke. It was real” Sunghoon cut you off before taking a step towards you, “It was far too real for us to be just labeled as friends, tutors or acquaintances or whatever you want to call us”
“We were real” His tone snappy and sharp that pierced your skin into your heart, “I took a step back- I let you mess around with Jongseong for a while so that you can feel comfortable without my presence there because I wanted you to realize”
“And realize what exactly”
“That I don’t need you anymore? That for once in my life I could be desired without ulterior motives?” The words growing heavier on your tongue as it weighed your heart down, “Do you even regret what you did? Did you have fun making me out as some kind of fool”
Your hand rose up to harshly rub your head, “I find it very hard to believe that you ever cared about me. Did you even love-”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence” His voice dropped to a lower register cutting you off as he glared at you causing you to laugh at him
“Why not? Because it hurts to face the truth? You were so stuck up on focusing on something that never meant to involve me and yet, you dragged me dead center into your petty feud”
“That’s what you think this is? That I’m still trying to get back at him?” He knitted his brows to crease in the middle. He shook his head with the smile that twisted your heart, “No princess… I moved on from that”
You glared at him with a loud scoff before shaking your head. “If you just came here to pester my life and not return anything, get out” You turned a heel unwavering in your steps, trying to maintain your peace from slipping
“Can I use your bathroom before I go then?” His voice returned to the soft tone stopping you in your step
Slowly peeking over your shoulder, you saw him standing there, the glossiness of his eyes grown from what they were in the beginning. There was a moment of silence where neither of you said anything. His body shivered with anticipation at your words.
“You know where it is” You responded before turning back and walking past him to somewhere in your place
His eyes watched your moving figure until it disappeared from sigh around the corner, Moving the plush of his lips around for a second before retreating down the hall where your bedroom and bathroom lay.
You stared at nothing as the headache grew by the second. Fluttering your eyes closed as you took heavy breaths to regulate yourself to at least a somewhat regular pace.
Shivering at the thought of Sunghoon’s face back in your head even when you tried to push him, he returned.
Like a moth to a flame. Which one was who was still unclear.
You weren’t sure of how much time actually passed but it felt like an eternity ever since he went to the bathroom. Opening your eyes, your vision splotchy for a moment as you tried to get accustomed to the light.
Blinking harshly, you turn your body around in search of Sunghoon however, the moment you reach where the bathroom door was supposed to be locked—It was wide open with no signs of him ever in there. You whipped your head around until you saw your bedroom door ajar slightly.
Your feet moving faster than you could register, you burst through into your room, eyes quickly rummaged through until it spotted Sunghoon right in front of your mirror. His finger is tracing over the sticky note you’ve refused to take down for some reason.
His eyes looked through the mirror to see you staring wide-eyed at him. “You never got rid of it” Your body was rigid when he turned around and looked at you with a different look in his eyes
Knowing he was waiting for a response, you frowned, “I thought you were going to the bathroom and then leaving”
The corner of his lip rose up so slightly that if you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed it. He didn’t respond to your statement like how you didn’t respond to his, his eyes raked over you before catching your eyes with his.
You gulped down your hammering heart, “Don’t look at me with those eyes”
“What eyes?” Sunghoon softly replied, the same look in bjs eyes unwavering
You stayed silent breaking the eye contact for what it was, shutting them tightly attempting to rid the vision of his eyes that looked past and into your soul, able and more than willing to read those thoughts you would never voice out.
“Those eyes” He hummed at you, tilting his head to the side
His hum was loud when it rumbled out of him, you held your breath softly shifting your gaze from the floor to him. He stood closer to you, his face near inches away from your with a slight frown tugging on his face, “I mean you are fucking my brother…” Your eyes moved in between his, “I think I get to feel a little bit of resentment”
You swallowed down the forming lodge in your throat, “Do you?”
He stayed silent for a moment, his breath fanning over yours as he stared deeply into your eyes, searching and finding the thoughts he knew were reserved for only him, “No”
Your eyes softened in response to his words, your shaky breath released as you could feel his head leaning in closer. You tried to pull yourself away—to rid yourself from falling into him wishing to be strong, after all preparation to see him again.
Yet, his arm wrapped at your waist and all rationality bolted out the window, "You want to be mine" It was a statement rather than a question that you didn’t try to oppose
"You've always wanted to be mine, haven't you?” It went through your ear and stayed in your mind, your hands squished in between your bodies weakly holding at his collar as he grew closer, "Don’t worry because with no doubt in my mind you were mine"
Sunghooon’s lips hovered over your now, "You belong with me princess" Those were the last words he said before engulfing your lips with his
His heart nearly hammered out of his chest as his body instinctively melted into it. Forced to go so long without you was torture—having to know that Jay had you the way he used to.
Moving in harmony, your hands gripped tighter at his collar. Cliche as it may sound in your mind, the once roaring raging head finally went silent. Sunghoon’s hand grabbed at your shaky ones, prying your hand to let go and once he felt you loosen your hold, he wrapped them around his neck before holding your waist again.
He felt how your body pressed into his, how your hands consciously tangled into his hair groaning at the rakes of it slotting through the crevice in between each finger, your nails scratching softly at his head like how you knew he liked it.
His body pushed back, rendering you to the plush of the mattress having the sheets wrinkling at the new edition of the longing weight it’s missed. Placing eager kisses, he realizes he was no better than a smitten man.
“Do I want to know what you and him have done?” He darkly hummed against your neck, his tightening hand gripping at your waist, “Too focused to think about me because you were with him?”
”Ever lead him to this very bed just like how you did to me?” You eagerly shook your head no, your mouth opening to respond but choked up when he continued to speak, “Or were you always too busy thinking about me?” Freezing at the last question, he smirked at your reaction
The familiar plush of his lips gathered at your skin as he peckered at the unblemished skin, the emptiness nearly sank his heart—seeing what he has missed these past months, “You’re just as beautiful as the day I left you”
Your hazy mind cleared instantly as eyes shot up to see him already looking back. Lips parting softly, letting out the shiver before leaning in to meet halfway of his leaning figure.
A hum rubbles out as you swallow it into your mouth. The gripping hand at your waist loosened before rubbing up and down your side as he engulfed your mind with him. Instead of a strong and needful kiss, it was endearing and in fact loving.
Squishing your hands in between your bodies, you cup at his jaw, tracing over the outline of it. The soft grumbles got lost in the silence as he rested his arms at each side of your head, lightly acknowledging on how you shifted, your legs prying open on their own to invite him to slot in between.
However, he pulled away with a shake of his head. Eyes fluttering open to see the deep stare into one another. “No…” Breathlessly he spoke gulping down the air that filled his lungs, “Show me that you want me”
”Prove that it’s always been me” He pleaded, true undertone now fully blaring into your ears creeping into your mind until you focused and registered
Your heart hammered at your chest that you were sure he could hear it as a faint smirk ghosted his face. Instead of properly responding, your body moved on its own.
Actions speaking louder than any word that could be uttered.
Grasping his shoulders before landing him onto his back, the soft pillowing holding his head, lifting yourself off to the side, he watched you. The shaky hands grabbing to his pants, your eyes looking at him for permission. “Go on” He nodded at you
Without having to be told twice, your hands traced over his belt, the touch of the frame metal before unbuckling it, eyes remaining trained at the unbuttoned trousers while your hands slid down the zipper. Prying open the material, seeing his boxers peeking out but shifted on how his hips lifted to help drag down his pants.
Pulling down the material watching him kick it somewhere to your floor as you mimicked his actions. Your hands worked with yours until you pulled off your own pants, letting them land wherever they did on the floor as well. His hands reached out for you, tugging you towards him.
Allowing your body to be guided, you straddled his lap focusing on the roaming hands on you that pulled you intoxicatingly into a mist that surrounded the two of you until he grabbed your nape and pulled your head down.
A hand on your hips while the other allowed it’s finger to trace circle on your neck, enjoying the way you tilted your head to deepened to kiss further, “I’ve missed you” He weakly mutters in between kisses
“I know… I did too” You hummed, your hips rocking with the help of his hand
Groaning softly at the friction. The sensation of your clothed core rubbing against his hard on made him dizzy. The only thing that stopped him from entering you was the thin fabric of your undergarments. Your head landed in the crook of his neck, the crevice in between, allowing you to messily press your lips on. “Never asked how you were” You mumbled against his skin
Too engrossed in the way, the damp forming not only in his but on your underwear was nearly unbearable to ignore. Bottom lip jutted out, enjoying the long strides you took rubbing yourself on him, “How were you Hoonie?”
The mention of the name he hasn’t heard of washed any initial thought away as he tilted his head to the side just enough. Your pulled away head now looked at him with glistening eyes. He was sure he copied your look—possibly looked even worse than how you did.
Instead of shying away, he smiled softly. “I think you can imagine I was. You already heard only a quarter of what I was doing without you”
“But you cleaned up nicely…”
“I had to. I was seeing you again after all this time” The words struck the string that held your heart up
And still, it was pointless when another planted drag of a kiss was planted. Your eyes fluttering close instantly as the rock of your lower body restarted with a feverish motive.
“I need to feel you princess- I can’t go on like this anymore” The pitiful way he sounded as you determined the beginning, “Need you to prove your words, just how much did you miss me?”
With an unexpected haste, lifting your hips just enough for his fingers to wrap around the side of your parties, “Please Hoonie” You slowly murmur as he dragged them, your glistening entrance coming back into his view
The slinging of them hanging from your leg before you fully peeled them off, Sunghoon’s eyes remained trained of the flesh he had been denied for months, patiently waiting for the day until you found your way back to him.
You palmed through the evident erection building up to his full size as his head leaned back, forgetting the way your hands felt on him. “Don’t be a tease either” Tone low like a growl being held back
You giggled at it, having your hands grip at his boxers tugging at the fabric until he began to separate from his body, the imprint of his length clinging onto the material waiting to spring out. In all its glory, his leaking self slapped against his body was a splat.
Crinkling your face for a second while a smile formed on it, pulling away at the material until you allowed his feet to kick them off.
Seeing him like this again made your chest tighten before hallowing into itself. The months leading up to this moment didn’t compare to the lifetime you bore without him in but even still, you leaned in molding your mouth onto his without a word.
Sunghoon easily accepted his kiss, the dip of your bed shifting as he could feel the heat radiating off your body and hovering over him. His eyes screwed tighter together, not allowing himself to wake from this dream.
However, the contact of you landing on him, he hisses against your lips as you let go of them with a shaky breath. The soak essentially seeped on his own length, covering himself with your essence. But, it wasn’t enough—it would never be enough.
His hand threaded down, grabbing the base of his cock before aligning it with your entrance by the time you sank down to rub down, the tip of it teased in making you clench and hiss at the intrusion. “Shit” He called out as he eased into your warmth
“I’ve missed you so much” He gritted through his teeth, relishing in the way your walls spasmed taking in the inches he was putting into you, “You don’t have any idea”
You weakly shook your head, your body toppling over his as your arms snaked near his head, “Yo-you don’t have any idea” Rebutting his statement—deeming it untrue only caused his heart to flutter harsher in his chest
The palpitations grew worse once he bottomed out. You shivered on top of him as his hand glided on your back, “Doing so good for me princess, I’m right here with you”
How could you deny it? Well easy, you couldn’t.
Your body faltered in a rock focusing on how he stretched you out, how easily he slipped into you like no time had passed. Sunghoon murmured into the shell of your ear causing the goosebumps to rise, “Fuck yourself on me baby”
Your eyes clamped down moving your hips with a little more force, you bit your lips to hold back the noise daring to sleep but Sunghoon’s nails gripped at your skin, “Don’t deprive me- Let me hear you” He groaned at how you clenched accepting him
“Good girl” His whispered into your ear as he planted wet kisses onto the side of your face, his arms wrapping around you as his body and yours melt into one
Moving your head to land his lips onto yours as you continued to push his length out of you before pulling it back in with the suck of your cunt, fluids slipping from your mouth as you messily kissed at each other. Mouth hanging open taking in the breaths poured into each other’s before reconnecting together.
Pulling at your bottom lip, he remained still under you while you moved your body up and down his erection, memorizing his tip pressing and poking at your insides, the past burn reviving from the depths of your brain where it was stored away, “Sucking me so good. Like you’ve been waiting for this” He chuckled in between breaths
You nodded your head at the words, “I have” You brokenly whined out
“Were you saving yourself for me? Until I came back to you and gave you what you wanted, mhm?” You could feel the smirk radiating off of him making you bury your head into the space between his neck and shoulder
“Knew that I was the only one that could give you what you wanted” The rumbled of his words laid heavy on your heart, “Keep going for me” His hands grabbed at your lower half, squishing the flesh in his hand, helping your weakened movements
You lifted your head up, resting your forehead with his as you weakly chuckled. Eyes bored into each other, reflecting the same depth and glint that could never be replaced or fizzled out regardless of the time passed. The base of your ass meeting his pelvis with growing harder thrust had you squealing, but he continued to fuck up into you.
Body shaking with thrust he sent, he was set on perfecting the mold of him inside of you—yet, it didn’t take much effort. You had already done that for him.
“Hoonie” You called out for him as he found a pace that pistoned himself deeper into you, loving how you shaped around the stretch he provided
Each thrust was calculated and thought through. Focusing how to press deeper into the warmth you provided. Dragging himself leaving his tip at the clenching hole making you wail a broken whine before gasping when he slammed back in. You tried to match the pace on your own however, Sunghoon ran a hand over your back.
“I got you princess. Let me take care of you” He hummed into the shell of your ear and without being told again you let your body rest onto his front
His fingers digging into the flesh of your bum, spreading it to the side focusing on the slipping of his cock inside of you. His grunts grow louder at the sound of obscenity filling your room—an emotion taking over him.
Clouded judgment, solemnly focusing on your clenching self, his tips peeking into your cervix that made you moan directly into his ear as he repeatedly hit at it. The grind of your body rocking with his as your swollen bud jumped at the edge, with the delicate ramming inside of you, fingers dug into his shoulder.
“I’m going to-” Sunghoon immediately hushed in your ear holding you closer to him
“Let go for me baby… Come for me”
Simple words leading to your body responding, your hole clenching harder around his shaft that his movements faltered from the previous calculations. Focusing at how your breathlessly moans and shivers landed for his ear to hear, unable to let you go, his arm flushed you even more into him if possible.
Low groans filling your ears as his thrust became sloppy, the fluid leaking out of your soaping entrance coating him over with it, nearly causing him to slip out before he eased back into the confinement you provided for him
“Kiss me” The feel of his hand softly trailing at your neck, feeling the bareness of it making a frown plaster onto his face, “Kiss me right now” He pulled your head up to face him
Tears brimmed over your eyes, rimming around daring to spill but not wanting to test him any further. Holding back what has been bubbling within you, all frustration pouring out. You smashed your lips onto his.
His working body continued as he pressed at your head to flushes your lips even harder onto his. Your eyes screwed shut, the brinks of your tears falling onto his cheek and glided down to his chin but he gulped down every noise you made.
Holding tightly onto him as weakly breathed through your nose until you sucked in a shiver as your body jolted up with the harsh slow thrust. Sunghoon could feel your walls tightening around him as he parted for you to hear your muffled moans loud and clear.
Resting your forehead harshly onto his as you pant with the occasional hissed when the slowed down picked up in slight pressure before one final press deep inside of you as he stilled his movements and the warmth engulfed your insides, painting them white of you.
The feel of his cum seeping into your velvet walls as he remained in you. Your body instinctively gripping him to suck in any and all that seeped out of him. His low groans mix with your breathless pants as the two collect air to fill your lungs. The moment was short lived as you bursted into a fit of pitiful giggles as he followed in tail with your actions.
”Such a good girl for taking everything”
“I hate you” You shook your head at the tease but your tone was light and feathery as you adjusted yourself quietly mumbling more under your breath which didn’t go unnoticed by him
As you shifted in place, weakly laying on his chest as you felt your body melt down into his as he hugged you, his head rested on top of yours. The soft rubs over your arms as he holds your shivering body. Remaining having his cock buried in you, plugging his cum from seeping out, he smiled—a real genuine smile. “I’m sure you do”
“But I could never hate you” You closed your eyes with a heavy pant listening to his words
“Never?” You meek out feeling the shake of his head from you but to his displeasure he heard you heavily sigh, feeling you rub your cheek against his body
Unaware to him a tug of your lips pulled it towards, “Are you mad- I mean were you ever mad at me?”
The question hung in the air for a moment, the only thing filling your room being the soft breaths leaving you. Your ear pressed against his chest that you could hear the rapid pulse beating faster. Worried seemed to gnaw at your stomach as your eyes frantically moved around and just as you were going to push yourself up from him.
Sunghoon stopped you before you could, his chin digging on top of your head as his grip around you tightened. The pump of his heart filled your ear again as you could hear the vibration of his voice coming out
“Never. You’re my girl”
Your face immediately responds as you smile softly, a breath you didn’t know you were holding let out. Aware that Sunghoon could feel the harsh thump beating out of your chest but you didn’t care.
You hum in response, not any more words necessarily for the moment. Your mind and body clicking into the fog of your head the tiredness evident in your voice as he softly chuckled, the burn of his finger tips scarcely touching your skin leaving fire in its wake as he pressed a kiss onto your head
“You can rest now… I’m not leaving your side ever again”
ᥫ᭡.
The soft chirps of the birds muffled from the outside, the blinding lights shining in as you and Sunghoon face each other with a warm smile. He leaned forward but you jerked away before he could land his kiss.
His dark chuckled made your own smile grow, but he smiled inching closer to you before blowing air against your neck. You jerked away and scowled as you tried to swat him away but stopped when he placed a soft peck on your skin, “I’m going to shower, care to join me?”
“And waste my water? You’re funny” You laughed before shaking your head
He smirked before running a hand over your arm, the glint of his eyes never leaving as he looked at you, “I’ll behave”
“You promise?” You looked at him in the corner of your eyes with a raised brow
Now here with Sunghoon, no thoughts were in your head besides who was in front of you. You’ve decided, long ago—from the very beginning. Stepping a foot closer to Sunghoon, your hand pushing his opening arms as you landed straight into his arms wrapping around you as you placed your lips on his.
He sheepishly smirked, “I promise to be quick” Swiftly after his light words, he let go of you before disappearing into the hall
You bit back a smile as you watched his fading figure away. Your fingers ran over your lip before your smile grew brighter, reaching your eyes.
There was a point, a line that blurred what you and Sunghoon were. Yet, you were far past the line of the beginning, middle of what this was. No longer looking back, dwelling on things out of your control, you’ve chosen, finalizing your decision—disregarding what is considered right or wrong.
Wondering why you should wait any longer before making you and Sunghoon one—they way you knew it meant to be. You were beyond the point of return.
Biting back the growing smile, you were going to move back to your room to wait for his return but stopped upon hearing a glide of paper. The sound of water running from your shower nearly drowned it out before you could notice it. You turned around to see an envelope laying on the floor.
Brows furrowed as you stepped towards and softly picked up the unaddressed envelope. Your lips tugged down, turning it around and ripping the seal before picking out the folded paper within. Your eyes immediately skimmed through the handwritten letter before properly reading it
‘to my dearest,
You were the first (only) person I have felt ever something like this for. Of course, I know how I did everything wrong but I wanted you to Understand what I was doing after all this waiting and wondering.
But I know it doesn’t make myself look any better but love is just Elegant, warm and almost as beautiful as you. it should come from Longing—yearning, that’s what love is-true love. I wanted to be the One to show you that but instead I made it worse. I know that now Nothing in this damn world can show even the sliver of just how Grateful I am for even being given the chance to prove myself to you.
While it seems like you might have made your choice, please consider It to your best interest to take a step back and look at everything. from The very beginning to now—to evaluate everything and move past. Heaven knows I won't give up, not when I know what it’s like.
More than ever, I finally realize what I want in my life and through Everything I don't regret anything in the slightest. I would do it again.
String me along, break my heart if you want. it’s always been yours to Enjoy and destroy. you’ll forever be smeared in my soul and i know Everything we’ve been through, part of you saw what it be like.
You realized love doesn’t have to be what you experienced it as, Occasionally yes it can be diabolical but it doesn’t always mean Undergoing the terror lies, we can make it however you want it.
Sometimes looking back on us I wonder if I was just crazy for thinking Of there being something between us but given the chance to Observe and see everything between us I know there was more. Never in a billion years would I want to give you false hope.
Believe me, I would do anything in this world to prove that you. Anyone can go against me and say otherwise but I know it that it Begs for the thrill of being even near you. Not sure of the pure Yearning it has because now I am forever ruined by you.
sincerely yours,
p.js
p.s- reread the letter and look at the first letter of each line’
The P followed by the J and lastly the S. Park Jongseong. As your eyes followed through the last sentence written, nitpicking every sentence and the first letter they had.
Your eyes grew wider each second as all being felt personally sucked and drained out when you looked back to read the postscript written at the bottom of the paper–followed by a heavy shaky breath as three words stood out more than anything in the letter.
turnnoffyourmind
dailybridgerton
baratheonpilled
jacobvanloon
snowghoul
areudirty
