☤ TEETH. ❝ PART SEVEN ❞ 박성훈⸝.ᐟ⋆
゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ S in which nothing cuts deeper than your hatred for park sunghoon, except the desire that waits underneath it. 、masterpost PAIRING 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 ۶ৎ 𝘧𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋. 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌 prev next
𝓦 。ᐟ MDNI ⨾ profanity, blindfolds, sexual content kinda, forced proximity, suggestive content, power dynamics, panic/claustrophobia, unhealthy communication 。 WC 6.7K
𝓝 ⟢ 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗃𝗈 𝗉𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗒 𝗃𝖾𝖿𝖿 𝖻𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗂 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖾𝗋. 𝗂’𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. ♡ 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾, 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋… 𝗂’𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆. 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾. 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗅𝗒 ꒰˘̩̩̩⌣˘̩̩̩๑꒱♡
If you actually thought you could sleep the anger off, you were completely wrong (to no one’s surprise.) Because it didn’t fade overnight while you tossed and turned. It only wound itself tighter, and by the time you dropped into your seat in Dr. Kim’s class, it had already taken it’s physical form in the chair beside you.
Or rather, in the shape of its source.
What was surprising — and maybe the cruelest trick the universe has ever played on you— was the blindfold that landed on your desk with a soft, final little thud.
But that was halfway through Dr. Kim’s lecture.
Before that, you’d told Sunoo and Wonyoung over a matcha session that you would not be giving Park Sunghoon the satisfaction of existing in your line of sight. Ignoring a man is truly a piece of cake (Sunghoon, specifically)… Just sit pretty in your cutesy Miu Miu set, cross your legs, take your notes and pretend that the six feet of generational arrogance beside you is decorative.
Well, it was easy… until it wasn’t easy at all.
“As always,” Dr. Kim began about halfway through class. “I prefer practice over theory, because you may memorize a definition, but that doesn’t mean you actually understand it. Today we discussed that trust is not abstract, and that it is not simply a word on a page, but instead it is a choice. It happens in the smallest of moments, when you hand someone the lead, when you let them guide you even though you cannot see the way forward.”
He paused, letting his gaze sweep slowly over the class.
“I like to believe I’m looking at a room full of very capable students. Which is why I want you to build that trust here, with the partners you’ve been given.”
He lifted a small stack of folded black cloth from his desk and set one on each table as he passed. You stared down at the cloth in front of you when he got to your table, realization crawling meanly across your skin.
If that was what you thought it was…
Would the universe really press its heel against your throat and hand you this particular brand of humiliation on this particular morning?
“In front of you I’ve placed a blindfold.”
“One of you will wear it, and the other will be responsible for guiding them through the task timed at five minutes, and the pair with the best combined score will earn five points of extra credit toward the group project grade. The exercise will look simple on the surface; You will face away from the board while your partner sees a diagram I’ll flash on the screen, and your job is to replicate it on paper using only their instructions. No touching. No switching roles. No shortcuts or whatsoever—simply rely on your partner to guide you.”
Dr. Kim is still talking but you don’t hear a word of it. All you can look at is the strip of black cloth sitting on your desk like it’s already mocking you.
Stupid little thing which would be harmless anywhere else… But not when it’s sitting between you and Park Sunghoon.
“…Discuss which one of you will be blindfolded for the exercise now.”
You barely got a thought in before you heard his voice.
“Put it on.” Sunghoon said.
You blinked at him, incredulous. “Excuse me?”
His eyes flicked over to you coldly. “You heard me.”
God, the audacity of him. Your mouth fell open, a disbelieving laugh clawing its way out. “I know you’re not serious.”
Sunghoon shrugged. “I’m dead serious.”
“Why the fuck would I be the one to wear it?”
“Oh, fuck off. If you think I’m gonna sit here blindfolded while you—”
“Save your whining. There’s a timer.” He points to the screen. “So I’d suggest you be a good girl and shut up. Unless you want to lose…? But you and I both know you don’t.”
“Fuck you and this fucking class.”
“Mm.” He gestures with his pen right at the blindfold. “Put it on.”
Every part of you wants to shove it down his throat and flip this whole desk over his head and walk out. But instead, because you are a stubborn perfectionist who is wired with an unwillingness to never lose, you just picked it up.
“If you try anything,” you hiss, pulling the cloth into a knot at the back of your head. “I’ll kill you.” The second the fabric cut out the light, it felt like you’re breathing too shallowly and as if your own chest is conspiring to cut you off. (This is no fun when you’re ridiculously claustrophobic.)
“Begin.” Dr. Kim says from the front, then you hear a flash and suddenly everyone starts murmuring.
“What the fuck is this supposed to look like?” Sunghoon complains. “Just… Put your pencil down at the bottom left corner.” He commands, and your grip on the pencil tightens as you fumble slightly. “I said left. No—Jesus, do you not know basic directions?”
“I know left, you condescending prick.”
“Sure does look like it. Okay, start with a line first. A straight line. No—slow down. You’re rushing.”
“And you’re underestimating my willingness about jabbing this pen in your jugular.”
“How tempting.” You can practically see the lazy grin plastered across his face. “Draw a curve now.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” you whisper. “Be specific, asshole.”
“Exactly what I said? What could possibly be more specific than me telling you to draw a curve. Draw it.” He’s closer than he needs to be. The sound of his voice is right at your ear and it’s maddening how much that makes something go fuzzy in your chest. “Curve—yeah, that. There’s literally only lines on the screen so don’t tell me to be specific. Now round it like a circle. Wait, smaller than that—no, i said smaller. Stop before you hit the margin—”
“I can’t see, you absolute dumbfuck—”
“Then just move your wrist up, for fuck’s sake. Now go right. Go up. Yeah. Just like that.”
Only Park Sunghoon could manage to make something this stupid sound incredibly sexy. Fuck this guy.
You mutter a string of curses so obscene you’re sure have never been spoken before in this class — let alone this lifetime, but your hand followed his instructions anyway, frantically because the timer is running and you’ll genuinely be damned if you don’t do well.
“Now go left—left. God, you really don’t know your right from your left?” You elbow him and freeze, but he keeps going, “Tsk. Don’t stop now, you’re doing so good for me.”
He has to be doing that on purpose, you think. Heat blasted up your neck and all throughout your body at the sound of his voice. “I swear to God I’m going to kill you. Stop saying it like that you freak!”
“Like… you know exactly like what!” The blindfold felt like it was cinching tighter, the noise of the room swelling until you could hardly breathe. “Can you just be more fucking specific! What am I even doing? Are you making this shit up?”
“Stop being so goddamn difficult and just—”
“Shut up!” Your voice cracked, panic breaking through. “Just tell me—I can’t do this.”
“You can. Listen to me. Just me.”
The problem is your heart is beating way too fast and everything is irritating you (especially Sunghoon, considering how close he is while you’re both pretending this is normal.) Your classmates are too loud, this stupid blindfold feels suffocating, and you’re competitive enough to know you’re probably losing, which only makes it worse.
“Fuck this. Fuck this blindfold, I can’t see shit, get this off me—”
Your name twists so foreignly on his tongue you almost don’t realize it’s yours, every movement in you halting aswell because Sunghoon placed his hand on your thigh.
High enough that every nerve in your body went stiff, hot enough to set fire through your bloodstream.
Your mouth opened, fury already bubbling. “I’ll kill you. Get your hands off me or I swear—”
“Focus on me.” he whispers right into your ear. His tone is threaded through with something heavier and gentler than his usual drawl as if he is trying to calm your panicking down, and that itself pinned you in place harder than his hand did.
You wanted to shove him back and maybe break a finger or two just to prove a point, but of course you didn’t because once again apparently your pathetic little brain has decided that winning some half assed classroom trust exercise was life or death. So you stayed put and followed his instructions as he told you to.
His fingers squeezed around your thigh, and you swore your whole body lurched forward. You hate how his touch burns through you and how your pulse jumps like it remembers him, and you hate even more that you don’t move it away because you don’t want to at all.
“Sunghoon.” The sound punched out of you like a plea as his hand slid higher on your thigh, goosebumps rippling under their weight.
“Shit,” He hissed through his teeth, the sound almost a groan. “You don’t even hear yourself.”
“Fuck you,” you spat, but your thighs betrayed you, pressing together tight under the desk, pulse thundering so hard in your throat you could barely breathe.
“Already halfway there, princess.” His voice was coiling around every nerve. “Keep still. See? Just like that. Obedient little thing, aren’t you?”
The timer blares before you can tell him to eat shit or even think too hard about what’s going on, and you rip the blindfold off like you’re saving your own life, his hand gone just as fast like it never happened at all.
You couldn’t stomach looking at him as you got up to leave when the professor called for a beeak.
The rest of class passed without either of you acknowledging the other. (Which, after whatever the fuck that had been, was probably the sanest course of action.)
By the time you shove your belongings into your bag and make your escape, you’re already halfway to losing your mind. Sunoo is outside, exactly where you expect him to be, leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting forever, even though it’s probably been three minutes at most. Wonyoung stood beside him, seemingly freshly done with her class as well. The second they saw you, their faces lit up ever so softly and warmly, and it is quite possibly the only force on earth that could ever storm through the absolute abomination currently unfolding in your brain.
Sunoo tilted his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So… That looked fun.”
“Don’t,” you said immediately.
Wonyoung’s brows knit together. “Are you okay?”
You nodded too quickly and forced a small smile that probably fooled nobody. “I’m fine. I just don’t want to talk about it.”
They both looked unconvinced anyway, and you were about to launch into a fake reassurance speech when suddenly Sunghoon’s hand caught your arm. His grip was not rough, but it was just enough to turn you around.
You whip around. “What the fuck?”
“Relax,” Sunghoon said, letting go of your arm. “We need to meet up today.”
You let out a short laugh, glancing at Sunoo and Wonyoung (who are now very pretending to mind their own business and failing miserably) to check if you weren’t hallucinating this exchange — and Sunghoon’s audacity.
“Like hell we are. I’m not meeting up with you anywhere,” you said. Your voice carried a little too far, because when you flicked your eyes sideways, people were staring. You plastered on a quick, fake sweet smile for them, as if to say this is a totally normal conversation, nothing to see here, definitely no homicidal tendencies whatsoever.
“Then fail, considering it’s for the deliverable,” Sunghoon sighed, and he looked particularly fed up. “I can’t fit it anywhere else into my schedule in the next five days, so it has to be today. But hey, it doesn’t matter to me. I’ll pick a topic on my own, hand it in, and get the credit.”
“Over my rotting fucking corpse are you fucking making decisions for me.”
“I don’t have time for this,” he mutters.
“Shut up,” he snapped, though it was barely loud enough to raise concern. “I’m being pulled six ways apart. Do you think I have time to argue when I’m breaking my back for my father every night?”
Your laugh was bitter. “You get off on arguing with me… It’s practically all you do anymore. And I promise you, I do not care about daddy’s empire or whatever you’re bitching about. That’s not my problem, and it sure as hell won’t affect our deliverables. Find a way around it.”
Sunghoon took a step in, closing the space so fast you had to tilt your chin up just to keep glaring at him. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Sunoo and Wonyoung a few steps down the hall, watching with unease written all over their faces, but also like they’d jump in if you so much as flinched.
“Say that again.” Sunghoon said.
You fold your arms. “Which part? The one where you’re a spoiled little bitch doing daddy’s dirty work like the perfect heir, or the one where I don’t give a fuck?”
His expression hardens. “You don’t know a single fucking thing about my family or me.”
Your heart pounds in your chest. “Don’t I?”
The two of you fall silent after that, though, as established silence with Sunghoon is never quite empty. Tension and all those unspoken words somehow manage to fill the air perfectly fine.
“We'll meet up at seven,” he said finally. “Pick a place, or I’ll pick for you.”
“Seven? Boy, fuck you. I didn’t agree to anyth—” you started, but unfortunately, you know him well enough to know that he is bluffing less than you’d like. “Whatever. We can meet up in the library.”
It’s the safest option with neutral ground and enough witnesses for when you finally kill him with a just cause. Perfect, no?
“What the fuck do you mean, no? You told me to pick—”
“I meant no. We’ll be loud.”
Your face twisted in disgust at the insinuation and the teasing smirk on his face. “You’re a fucking freak.”
“Hmm, sure. But unfortunately, that’s not why, so pick somewhere else.”
You opened your mouth, ready to tell him exactly where he could shove his ‘somewhere else,’ when he spoke again. “My frat house has a study room,” he says. “It’s quiet.”
As if you’d ever step foot in that disgusting torture chamber? or anywhere he suggests, for that matter. “Do you think you can just boss me around all day like I’m part of your little harem? O Captain, my Captain, should I bring the blindfold too and make it fun for you?”
His mouth twitched again, just the slightest, but enough to make you want to punch it clean off his face. “Wouldn’t hear me complaining.”
“You’re actually fucking disgusting. Jesus. Why do I even bother?”
He shrugged. “I mean, you’re the one who offered.”
But then your big entrepreneur brain caught up with what he’d actually said, and your chest lit up like a kid spotting presents under the tree before dawn.
Someone you have a very cheeky little thing going for also currently lives in and out of that particular frat house…
“Fuck you. Fine, I’ll be there at seven.” You narrowed your eyes and straightened your posture, trying your best to fight back a sly smile. “But don’t flatter yourself,” you add. “I’m not stepping foot in that disgusting, chlamydia ridden little boy cave for you. This is strictly about the project.”
Wonyoung plopped down on your bed, hair falling over her shoulder as she reached for the open bag of candy on your nightstand. Ms. Yun (your maid) is still hovering near the doorway, politely pretending she cannot hear a single word of the debrief you’ve been giving your best of friends and how… colorful your vocabulary had been as you went off on Sunghoon, even though she absolutely can.
You threw her the filthiest look you could muster by your vanity, where you were taking your earrings off. “I’m not saying it for the third time.”
“Yes you are,” she said, chewing slowly with her brows pinched like she’s doing math. “And I need to know what you did after.”
“I was panicking because the blindfold made me feel like I was being suffocated,” you said. “And I think I might have… whimpered. Anyway. The weather outside is so—”
Wonyoung’s eyes widened. “You whimpERED—”
“WONYOUNG!” you shrieked.
Next to her, Sunoo snickered into his fist. The sound lasted half a second before you snapped your head toward him, and he immediately straightened, hands up in surrender. “My bad. It’s just… I cannot believe he walked out of that classroom alive.”
“I can’t believe you’re even going to face him again in the same day after all that.” Wonyoung said around a mouthful of candy.
You turned to face them, lips pressed together like you were holding something back. (You absolutely were, diva. The jake of it all.)
Sunoo clocked it immediately. “Why aren’t you threatening to kill him? And why do you have that face?”
“No, wait. Yeah, you do!” Wonyoung gasped, pointing at your face. “That’s the look you get when you’re up to something, you devious little gremlin!”
That earned a laugh out of you, and this time you didn’t bother hiding it. You tipped your head back, twirling once for dramatic effect before throwing your arms out like you’d been waiting for this moment. “I have plans I cannot share, because the haters will sabotage me.”
Sunoo perked up like a puppy hearing his favorite words being said by his owner or something. He reached over and plucked a few pieces of candy from Wonyoung’s hand without so much as asking, one brow arched high. “You know I hate it when you get all cryptic. Oh my god, just spill.”
Wonyoung’s eyes narrow as she connects the dots. “Wait. Did you say you were meeting at his frat house?”
Sunoo gasped. “AHA! Do your plans involve a fine, young, sickeningly handsome debatable five feet… six-feet on a good day Australian?”
Wonyoung smacked Sunoo’s arm, nearly spilling candy everywhere. “God has not forsaken our girl!”
You laughed. “No but seriously, what do I wear?”
“Well, your skimpiest outfit, duh,” Sunoo said instantly. “Don’t ask us stupid questions.”
You flinged a pillow at him, and it hits him dead in the chest. “You do realize,” you said, pacing now in front of your walk in closet. “I’m going in blind here. He might not even be there. I’m not about to wear some whorish outfit in front of Sunghoon. He’ll—he’ll say something—he’ll—ugh. I don’t even want to think about it. I’m already angry. I’m going to kill him.”
“Her ability to get mad at her own hypotheticals is truly a gift,” Sunoo muttered to Wonyoung like you weren’t in the room.
Then he watched you have an absolute explosive ranting marathon for exactly one more minute before he sighed like a man burdened by idiots, picked up your phone, and calmly placed it in your hand.
Sunoo shrugs. “That’s crazy and all that, but… you know you could just text Jake?”
Sunoo was trying to catch the glow of your screen, nosy bastard that he was. “What did he say? Let me see—”
Then wonyoung shushed him and added, “What did you say? Did you threaten to block him again cause he got too flirty? Please tell me you didn’t say you’ll kill yourse—Ow!"
You smacked her hand away before she could steal the phone, laughing when she yelped. “Would you two just be normal? He said he’ll be there.”
Wonyoung’s hand finally caught the phone, and she read the latest text aloud in a gasp. “I’ll make sure you forget sunghoon exists tonight.”
Sunoo genuinely screams. “OH HE’S CRAZY! He’s literally going to eat you alive.”
You made a face that was far too pleased with the idea of you simply getting any action at all, specificaly from Jake. “I’m wet and horny and in heat just thinking about it.”
“Freak.” Sunoo muttered, while you doubled over laughing.
“God forbid a woman is horny!”
You stomped toward your walk in closet. The real issue is that you had too many options and all of them suddenly felt wrong.
If you have nothing else, you at least have taste. Impeccable taste, actually, and you would like to clarify that this is a fact, not an opinion. Aside from the fact that you just have a passion for fashion, A) you were literally raised by an acclaimed designer, B) you’ve been sitting front row since before you had a fully formed conscience, and C) your closet is basically a museum of vintage treasures and fresh off the runway pieces… So if anyone in this world is allowed to trust her instincts, it’s you.
You snagged a cute pink Alaïa dress, held it up in front of the mirror, then marched back out and presented it.
Sunoo and Wonyoung didn’t even hesitate or anything. “No,” they said together.
You pouted. “But you said this was cute! This is literally—”
Sunoo cut you off with a little tut like an auntie. “Yes, my sweet girl, it was cute when you wore it to my mom’s charity dinner three months ago. But that is not particularly fit for getting your ass laid.”
“I’m honest,” he corrected primly. “But you’d look good in anything, so don’t think too much about it, baby.”
“Her? Not thinking too much about it? She’s hopeless.” Wonyoung said, already sliding off the bed. “Scoot.” She nudged you out of the way and went in herself, sharp little hums leaving her throat whenever something caught her eye.
“I don’t like when people bully me in my own house.”
“This isn’t your house, it’s your parents’” Sunoo said, sprawled back against your pillows. “And we’re not just people’.”
You twisted just enough to glare at him. “Do you want to die?”
“Ask me that the next time I have to share a seat with Jay in class.” He popped a gummy into his mouth. “How’s your mom, by the way?”
Your mouth softened into a smile. “She’s good. Last I checked she was in Paris, chairing some gala.”
The smile lingered but then your fingers went restless at the hem of your skirt. Something Sunghoon had said in the hall earlier threaded itself through, and suddenly the dots pressed together in your head.
“Actually…” you started, chewing your lip. “She mentioned something weird the other day.”
Wonyoung stilled halfway through rifling your closet, while Sunoo cocked a brow.
You sound as if you almost regret bringing it up. “She said she heard Sunghoon’s father is finally stepping down. Not tomorrow, but in the near future or something. I’m pretty sure it’s just a rumor but apparently everyone’s already circling and waiting to see who gets handed the keys to the empire.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Wonyoung says, sizing up your favorite pair of Chanel flats with a floral skirt.
“That’s a bit extreme… considering his frontal lobe has yet to develop. If ever,” Sunoo said, leaning back against your headboard. “But I mean… he quit skating and no one ever knew why.”
You quickly shook your head and shrugged. “Well, all I’ll say is that if there’s any truth to it, I hope it kills him. Honestly. I hope the weight of it all crushes him before he makes it to twenty three, for all I care. Asshole. Fuck him and his tortured poet act.”
Sunoo tipped his head back and laughed, the sound muffled around another gummy, and then a sharp squeal cut through the room and both of you snapped your heads toward the closet, where Wonyoung had one hand tucked conspicuously behind her back.
“I’m not taking no for an answer for what I’m about to give you.”
Wonyoung talked you into wearing something you weren’t even aware you had in your closet.
The wood grain under your palm felt like a guillotine, and you tugged at the hem for the fifteenth time before you even made it to the front door. Wonyoung had promised you’d thank her, but standing there in Louboutin heels on frat house steps sticky with God knows what, the only thing you wanted to thank was God for letting you live a fruitful life, because you were about one second away from staging your own death to get out of whatever this was.
The dots blinked for half a second before his reply came through like he’d been waiting with it already typed out.
park sunghoon: upstairs. second door on the left.
This asshole. Not even a hell or even a shred of basic decency. (Ehh. Not that you expected it from him, anyways.)
You put your phone back in your pocket and dragged in a breath and tipped your chin higher, forcing your shoulders back as you stepped through the door, the fabric of your skirt skimming the tops of your thighs just the way Wonyoung said it would. The cardigan slips off your shoulder when you move, soft black lace framing the neckline of your top—fitted enough that every line of your chest is accounted for, every curve tucked into place. It had taken three rejections, two shrieks of horror, and Sunoo threatening to physically burn half your closet (specifically the side that hoarded your precious archival Chanel collection) before Wonyoung shoved this one into your arms and demanded you wear it.
It’s stupid, you tell yourself. You’re here to study. And yet—you can’t quite smother the heat that kicks in your chest at the thought of Jake seeing you like this. A couple of guys on the couch half lifted their drinks at you in lazy acknowledgment when you walked in, one of them elbowing the other when your skirt rode up the tiniest bit as you started toward the staircase. You rolled your eyes and ignored them, heels clicking sharp against the wood. Your fingers hesitated only a beat on the handle before you pushed it open.
The first thing you saw was him.
The room was nothing like you’d pictured. It was bigger and neater, two couches faced each other with a low table between them, a wide desk pressed against the wall, books stacked neat on the shelves in the back like some makeshift library. Cozy, organized, almost formal—the opposite of what you’d expected from a frat house. Though this wasn’t exactly a frat house.
Sunghoon stood at the far side of the room with his back to you, a fitted black shirt pulling tight across his shoulders as he tipped a bottle of water into a glass. The door shut a little too loud behind you, the thud ricocheting in your chest, making him turn — Just his head at first, then the rest of him like he had all the time in the fucking world. The bottle hit the desk with a soft clink, and then his eyes were on you.
His gaze dragged down your face, lingered at your collarbone, dipped lower — over the neckline that Wonyoung had sworn was “tasteful cleavage,” like there was such a thing. His eyes swept down your waist, over the skirt clinging indecently tight to your thighs, before climbing back up again like he was memorizing you.
He didn’t say a word, and somehow, that was worse.
Your skin prickled under the weight of it, nerves firing off in every direction. The heat that had been simmering low in your chest shot sharp to your throat, and before you could stop yourself your hand twitched, tugging at the hem of your skirt as if that would suddenly buy you an inch of dignity. It only made the corner of his mouth twitch into a lazy little smirk. And he just moved to the couch and sank into it, posture loose but watchful, then tipped his chin toward the space across from him.
“Do you think I’m some dog you can order around?” Your mouth twisted in contempt. “Say please, you arrogant fuck.”
One brow arched, just the faintest shrug of his shoulder. “You came, didn’t you?”
“That doesn’t mean I’m about to jump at your every fucking command like a bitch.”
“Then stand,” he said, reaching for the glass he’d poured and taking a slow drink. “Genuinely makes no difference to me.”
You stepped forward anyway, the click of your heels louder than it needed to be, and dropped onto the opposite couch with more force than grace. The cushions sank under you, and his eyes slid down your legs, then up again.
“Stop looking.” Your jaw clenched.
“‘m not,” he muttered like he didn’t mean to, setting the glass down with a soft thud.
You scoffed and ripped your bag open harder than you needed to, fingers digging through until you found your iPad. If you focused on the screen, maybe you wouldn’t feel his eyes still crawling over you, tracing lines you wanted to scrub clean. The home screen blurred once, twice, before you managed to steady your thumb and open the stupid deliverable page.
You could survive five minutes across from Park Sunghoon without combusting. Probably.
“Cute little skirt you wore for studying.”
“Go fuck yourself.” You snarled.
“With this image in mind?” Maybe later.”
The pillow left your hand before you even thought about it, a soft, ridiculous missile aimed straight at his head. It hit him square on the shoulder and for a second you thought he’d actually laugh — the corner of his mouth tugged like he wanted to — but instead he caught it, one hand snapping up, calm and annoyingly able.
“Don’t do that again,” he warned.
You snorted and grabbed the next pillow because apparently you were five years old and this was the most adult thing you could think to do. He didn’t catch this one in time. It hit him on the the head with a muffled thwack, and you felt super duper pleased with yourself.
“Shit. You’re so fucking immature—“
“Shut up and pick your laptop up.” you jerked your chin toward the coffee table.
You pulled your iPad into your lap, tapped your notes open and waited while pretending you weren’t watching him out of the corner of your eye.
“It’s the fucking server. It’s down.” His head snapped up, glare pinning you. “I fucking tried that, genius.”
“What, do you think that if I show you, it’ll magically fix itself or something?”
“Yes, I do actually. Move.” You reached before he could argue, fingers brushing the edge of the laptop.
He groaned low in his throat, one hand braced against the lid like he was debating whether to let you touch it at all. Finally, he dragged it around, shoving the screen in your direction. The login page blinked back at you, stubbornly refusing to load.
“Happy?” His voice was irritated, but his mouth twitched at the corner, like he knew he’d scored a point.
“Fine. Forget it. You can look at the PDF from mine.”
You angled your device toward him, but the second it sat balanced on your knee, you realized the flaw—from opposite couches, neither of you had a decent angle.
“That’s not my fucking problem.” You didn’t even bother glancing up, though your jaw clenched when you realized you couldn’t see the damn thing either, your neck craning at a weird angle.
And then he got up to sit right next to you, legs softly brushing your exposed legs as he edged closer on the couch.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“What’s it look like? I’m solving the problem.”
“I’m not sitting next to you.” The words came out tight, forced between clenched teeth. And of course your stupid hands betrayed you, tugging at the hem of your skirt again, like that would do anything except scream how rattled you were.
“Relax. I don’t bite.” His mouth twitched just barely. “Unless you want me to.”
You actually debated slapping him across his face. It would feel so fucking good.
“Let’s just get this fucking over with, you dipshit.”
YOU AND SUNGHOON had actually managed to divide the work. (Well, barely.)
“That’s wrong, you idiot.” Sunghoon sighed staring at your screen.
“You’re the fucking idiot! it’s not wrong. It’s literally the definition—”
“Exactly. They aren’t your own words, therefore it’s half assed. There’s a difference.”
“You have a problem with everything I do.”
“I have a problem with you thinking the bare minimum counts as something just because everyone’s been kissing your ass since birth and you think you can get away with it.”
“Literally what the hell is wrong with you, you smug fucking prick—”
“What?” His gaze slid over you. “Did I hit a nerve?”
You genuinely don’t have to waste your energy putting up with this bullshit. Not his constant jabs, not Dr. Kim’s bullshit exercises, none of it. So you shoved your pen into your bag and crammed everything together with messy hands and stood so fast the couch scraped underneath you, anger carved into every twitch of your body.
You swung your bag over your shoulder, marched toward the door, and then— He was already there in front of you.
“Are you directionally challenged? Move.”
“No,” you snapped, “We are done. I’m tired of putting up with your fucking bullshit. You’ve clearly got something going on with me right now, and I don’t see why I should play into it when I’ve got Jake waiting for—”
Oh. It slipped out, really. His expression didn’t shift at first, but then something ugly and twisted twitched through his gaze before it was gone again.
“Ah.” His mouth curved. “That’s why you wore that. Hoping he’ll finally buy the desperate act and dig up your skirt?”
“Shut the fuck up! Truly, What the fuck have I ever done to offend you this much? What is your problem?”
He stepped in closer and closer until you stumbled back without meaning to.
“Just you,” he said again. “You, and your entire existence offends me.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means exactly what it means. You. Your family. Your legacy, everything you have. Your privilege—you waste it all.”
“Waste? What the fuck are you even talking about?” You blinked hard, hating the prickle of tears at the edges of your vision. Humiliation burned hotter than the anger now —because crying in front of Park Sunghoon? You’d rather die. “You don’t know anything about me anymore, so worry about your own fucking family. Like, you already have a perfect thing going for you with your father’s putrid fucking company—”
“Don’t.” He stepped forward, “Don’t speak on my father. You don’t know anything.”
“I don’t care to!” Your spine hit the wall before you realized you’d stumbled back. “Get out of my way.”
“You just want to ride your high horse and pretend that you’re above it all when really, you’re just some spoiled fucking brat.”
There was a ridiculous, painful flash of a memory of smaller versions of both of you, of a rink where he glided and medals glinted like promises, of the first stupid time you’d seen him at Heeseung’s house when you were kids and nothing in the world had been complicated yet. You’d thought then that you knew him in a simple, harmless way.
You hadn’t known anything at all.
“What happened to you.” It wasn’t a question, and you didn’t even know if you meant it like one.
Now he was close enough that you could feel the heat from his body. You could see the line of his throat move under his shirt. The nearness made your pulse trip and run like a frightened thing.
“Let me ask you this. Do you truly believe that this is easy for me?” he said, so soft you had to fight not to lean in like some moth to flame. “Being here? Arguing? Seeing you flaunt everything? Just seeing you—” He paused.
Why the fuck were you tearing up?
Of all the ways to look pathetic, of all the places in the world to break, it had to be here, with him standing so close —angry tears, because that’s always the worst kind — hot and stupid, and you blinked like a fool trying to make them go away.
“Fuck off. I’m not crying.”
His hand moved, and then his fingers caught your chin with a thumb and forefinger that were suddenly there with an impossible, infuriating tenderness. He tilted your face until you had no choice but to meet his eyes.
You jerked your chin and tried to wrench free, but his grip didn’t give. And for one impossible second — you swore that his gaze softened.
“Are you happy?” The words slipped out and you hated how small they sounded as one tear slid down your eye. “Let go.”
“Happy?” he echoed. His gaze dropped once to your mouth, before dragging back up to your teary eyes. “Not even close.”
“Go to hell,” you whispered, but you didn’t move.
He didn’t either. Well, he did. But forward… he leaned in until his chest brushed yours, until his hips ghosted closer than they should have. You froze, pulse climbing, every nerve sparking hot under the weight of him. You tried to wiggle free, but the motion only dragged you against him harder, friction sparking in places you swore you’d never let him close enough to touch. The sound that left you was some strangled noise in your throat that made his jaw tighten.
“Don’t do that.” he said it like a plea, his fingers twitching on your chin.
“I’m not doing anything.” Liar.
“You don’t even realize what you do. Coming here and wearing this.” His free hand moved, tugging lightly at the hem of your skirt.
“Get off—You’re out of your fucking mind, Sunghoon. One second I’m a spoiled brat that you can’t stand and, the next you’re—what? What is this? You can’t even keep your bullshit straight. You schizophrenic bastard—”
The words were low and the look in his eyes alone nearly shut your mouth for you. His thumb dragged across your lip and without thinking much of it, you bit down.
“Did you just—Did you bite me? Brat.”
You only smiled in return, and you didn’t know why you liked the hungry look on his face. And then he shifted, just a fraction but it was enough that the press of his hips brushed against yours and heat pooled low in your stomach and a tiny, treacherous sound slipped out of your throat again. Sunghoon wordlessly leaned in until his mouth brushed your ear, his hips shifting just enough to grind heat into you again, and you could feel the thick line of his cock hardening against his pants. Your thoughts scattered under it until they were impossible to gather.
“What are you doing?” It came out in a whisper, because you didn’t trust your voice to hold steady.
“I don’t know,” he murmured almost absently, like he wasn’t fully in control of himself either.
Jake stood in the frame, eyes flicking once between the two of you. “What’s going on in here?”
𝓝 ⟢ LORE DROP!!!!!!!!!!!!! also please don’t read too deeply into how the figure of the diagram drawing moment would turn out… i was just pulling thoughts straight out of the ether for the instructions… thank you for reading ♡
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