bf!sunghoon × fem!reader.⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⠀⠀⠀⠀where love pours out of an extra-emotional and extra-clingy sunghoon when he realizes just how far you'd go to take care of him, and how lucky he is to have you by his side when his body has given up.
CONTAINS ➤ 5.1k+ words. smut. downbad!hoon & bf!hoon aka: E404!sunghoon. college!au. domestic fluff. established relationship. jayke cameo. tiny bit of comedy. angst if ur a pussy. sunghoon is just very sick and very soft and very sensitive (in more ways than one). he's absolute babie. pet names. needy&subby!sunghoon. handjob. (m–rec.) marking. edging, kind of. slight overstimulation. requested here. not proofread.
➤ MAIN MASTERLIST. ┆ EPILOGUE MASTERLIST.
𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨.ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 ♡
to everyone else, sunghoon was a pillar of strength—literally and figuratively. he's tall, built like a god damn tank, always present, and always reliable.
so when it came time to prepare for your university's founding anniversary celebration, the student bodies didn't hesitate asking him help to set up the main stages.
from delivering big props for different departments to holding the heavy pole steady while other guys marked where the portable stage lights should be placed, if any hard work or heavy lifting had to be done, sunghoon was their guy.
he worked tirelessly that week, not getting rest even during the day of the anniversary itself because he was also tasked with taking photos of the event along with the rest of the photography club.
so instead of roaming around the wide university plaza with his girlfriend and your shared group of friends, sunghoon exhausted himself by running to different booths, back and forth to the main stage in hopes of getting proper shots—all without a single complaint.
the blistering heat of the sun, the lack of rest from nights he spent awake trying to get his academic responsibilities done, on top of the the extra-curricular activities he'd been burdened with naturally took a toll on him.
he woke up one morning and just couldn't find any strength to move.
his sinuses were clogged. pain throbbed in the sides of his head like a firm ball constantly being bounced against the walls of his skull. being in a thin shirt felt too warm, too stuffy. even lifting a finger was far too heavy to carry than the weighted disks he used to bench.
days bled, one into the other.
sunghoon had lost his concept of time, and he didn't bother checking his clock anymore. all he knew was he'd open his eye to see jake leaving him his medicine for the night, and after a blink, they'd be greeting him goodbye to head to uni with sunlight peaking from behind his blackout curtains.
the only constant, the only string to reality he had left in his current state was you.
from: pengoo. 🐧 — angel anglelleee
from: pengoo. 🐧 — show me ur pretty fa
from: pengoo. 🐧 — face
from: pengoo. 🐧 — pls pls pretty pleseas
from: pengoo. 🐧 — please* :(
from: pengoo. 🐧 — imy and everything hurts
from: pengoo. 🐧 — a picture of you would heal me rn. i know it will.
sunghoon's texts come back to back, making several dings in your quiet apartment.
he's been sick for four days now, and though you've offered multiple times to come visit him, he's always turned you down sternly, too afraid of infecting you with whatever plague he had.
but he's still sunghoon: persistent and just a little more clingy and emotional when he's sick like this. which is why he wanted—no, needed—to have you on facetime as much as possible.
"no," he said, compressed tissues stuffed up his nostrils. you could hear each breath he took clearly through the speaker, each heavy and labored exhales rasping through the bottom of your phone.
despite the graininess of the video call, you could still see the faint-blue tint of his stubbles—shadows of his unmaintained beard that made his sickly complexion somehow look sharper, the blood-shot eyes that were fighting to stay open just so he could look at you despite the obvious signs of exhaustion.
it was a sad, sad sight. and the bags under his eyes from his lack of proper sleep completed the miserable visage, enough to effectively crumple your heart to pieces.
you barrage him with one worried question after the other. "are you sure, love? you look like you haven't been sleeping well. are you eating? are the boys making sure you're taking your medicine at the right time?"
"'m fine, angel.. jus.. need to hear ya say.. that you love me." sunghoon reasoned with pauses to breathe after every word his mouth slurred.
"i love you, hoonie. now go take a rest, please? you won't get better if you keep fighting your body."
"n–no.." his thick eyebrows drew together, the screen shaking a bit as he repositioned himself to sit up. he leaned his back against stacked pillows, forcing his eyes to gain clarity just for a moment so he could properly see at you. "say it again for me. please."
"i love you."
he hummed, a weak, dopey smile tugging upward on his lips. "i love you too, angel.. tell me what happened today."
you kept talking to him about random things that happened in uni while doing your homework and his body slowly shifted lower and lower while listening as intently as he could until he was lying back down on the bed.
after two hours of yapping your heart out, you turned to your camera and noticed that sunghoon was already asleep.
his hand was surprisingly steady as it held his phone to his face, like he wanted to keep talking to you despite being so deep in his subconscious already.
you couldn't bring yourself to end the call so you also laid in bed, adoring every little sleepy grunt and quiet whispers of your name as you watched sunghoon dream of you.
you raise your hand, knocking your knuckles once against the familiar door.
it opens quietly with a surprised jay and jake (or two j, as you affectionately like to call them) meeting you on the other side.
you press an index finger to your mouth, slowly stepping inside. "where's sunghoon?" you whisper, taking your shoes off as quietly as you can while jay saunters over to their kitchen with the big bag you brought along with you.
"he's in his room. sicko never really went out today other than to shower."
"yeah, and we tried to get him to eat but the most he'd swallow is like.. three spoons of rice." jake whispered from your side, anxiously looking over at sunghoon's door.
you let out a small sigh and followed to their kitchen, shooting jay a grateful smile as he proactively heated up the soup you'd made for your boyfriend.
"this is too much for him, you know." jay starts.
you take out three big bowls from their cupboard, shrugging. "i made enough for the three of you."
jake watches jay scoop out a portion for the both of them, lips parted at the mouthwatering visual. "i'm not gonna hold you, Y/N—this looks fire as hell. and i'm thankful i get to reap the benefits of sunghoon having an amazing girlfriend… but why? we've been eating just fine."
you move around their kitchen with ease, already familiar with the layout and location of the utensils you need to make a tray for sunghoon. "consider it an appreciation gift. i just assumed it wasn't easy taking care of the guy. i heard him snapping at you over facetime the other night, you know."
jake nods with a hand over his chest, sighing dramatically. "god forbid a guy asks his best friend to make legos."
"he never agreed to do that when you asked him while he was mentally sound. did you think he'd agree to it when he was sick?"
"i thought he might be more open to the idea of spending quality time with me!"
jay snorts. "the only person he's been whining to have quality time with is her so maybe let it go."
he takes out sunghoon's routine medicine and slips them to the side of the tray while you scoop out a more generous portion of the soup into a bowl, even neatly garnishing it with a proud smile on your face.
"go have dinner, you two. i'll take over taking care of hoon now."
you slip inside his room quiet as a mouse.
your boyfriend had his back turned to the door, black tshirt stretching across the expanse of his shoulders. he's curled into a fetal position, blanket tucked under his arm with one of his legs sticking out of the thick material as his body purposelessly searches for both warmth and coldness at the same time.
you take a small step forward and it makes a creak, causing sunghoon to shift slightly.
his tired voice echos out, grumpy because you've been indirectly ignoring his calls and texts all afternoon. "go away, jake. i told you i didn't want to play with your stupid fucking legos."
"now that's not a nice way to talk to jake, is it? no wonder he's sad."
sunghoon's eye widens at the sound of your voice and he sits up in a split second before clutching his head as the sharp, electric pain shoots up to his temple just as quickly.
he's convinced what he heard has been a hallucination. that he's been too sick from both missing his girlfriend and whatever was contaminating his system.
"a–angel?" sunghoon calls out tentatively, eyes screwed shut in pain.
you walk to the side of the bed, laying the tray down gently on the floor before wrapping your arms around his hunched figure. despite his decreased ability to smell, he was able to pick up a faint scent of your perfume and that was enough for him to be put at ease.
"god.. why did you go here? i— i told you not to come. you're going to get s–sick too." sunghoon sniffled.
your palm cradles his flushed cheeks, your lips parting at just how warm he was. "the boys told me your fever wasn't going down quickly enough and that you weren't eating. i was worried, hoonie."
sunghoon's eyes remain shut as he chased after the softness of your hand, his own coming up to keep it close to his face. "mm.. i just didn't have the appetite. and i missed my girlfriend too much to worry about eating."
"that's exactly why you're still sick."
"so don't nag me when i'm already sick."
"i'll nag you whenever i want, park. especially when you blindly push your body to the limit." you mutter, pulling your hand away and guiding him to sit up against the headboard. you cross your arms over your chest. "i told you to say no to those pesky student officers didn't i?"
"they needed help, angel." he argued weakly.
"yeah, and they were also taking advantage of your kindness." you huffed through your nose, shooting him a frustrated glare. "never do that again. never. you hear me?"
sunghoon flinches and nods his head slowly, eyes downturned as he sniffs once. then his voice comes out smaller, more unsure. "a.. a–are you mad at me?"
"i'm—" you bite your lip, regretting the pointedness of your tone as you watch guilt wash over sunghoon's tired face. you take a deep breath in, urging yourself to calm down before talking softer. "i'm not, hoonie.. i'm sorry. i've just been.. worried sick about you. i don't want you putting yourself through this kind of pain again."
he just nods, lips forming into a pout as he silently opens his arms. "if you're not mad.. then hug me. please?"
he requests it in such a tiny, soft voice that you can't help but wrap your arms around him, letting him press his nose against your shoulder while you rub soothing circles on his back, whispering quiet apologies against his hair.
"i'm sorry, baby. i'm sorry. i won't do it again." you soothe him until he's the one peeling himself off of you.
"it's okay.. i kinda deserved it. i just wanted to be helpful."
"i know you did. but now you're sick and you have to take care of yourself." it's then that you pick up the tray from the floor, balancing it atop your crossed legs before showing it to sunghoon. "and that starts by eating something proper."
"you.. made this? for me?" sunghoon's eyes twinkle as he looks at the soup and spread of side dishes on the tray.
"mhm. asked my mom for a recipe. it took a couple of days and even more tries than that but.. it's all worth it." your smile is wide and proud as you take a spoonful of soup, a hand cupped under it while guiding it to sunghoon's parted lips. "say ahhhh."
he takes it all and you continue to beam as his smile widens as well.
you continue to carefully feed him despite him stubbornly arguing he could do it himself. he relents and parts his lips weakly, and you wipe the corner of his lips with your thumb, making small talk to keep him entertained.
he just listens to you animatedly rant about the small errors that happened in your cooking attempts, still silent as he usually is. but the small smile on his lips, no matter how weak, lets you know that sunghoon is savoring every drop of extra attention he could have from you.
you turn your back to him for one second to grab some tissues and the next thing you know, he's hanging his head again, sniffling and roughly wiping tears with the back of his hand while he chews.
the soup is delicious, sunghoon thinks.
he couldn't taste much—considering his current state—but he knows its well-seasoned. he imagines how tired you must have been to be doing all that work after class, how desperate you were to call your mom just so you could make something for your sick boyfriend.
every chew of the soft chicken made him feel cozy, fuzzy, akin to the feeling he got whenever he slipped under the sheets after a long, tiring day. and the fact that he could taste the time and effort you put into it warms sunghoon's body from the inside out.
for a very brief moment, all the pain he's feeling is gone, replaced with the overwhelming, borderline-suffocating love and gratefulness he has in his heart that it just all pours out of him in the form of a stifled sob.
you watch him blindly reach out to you and you hurriedly put the finished tray back down before sighing.
"oh, my pengoo.." you hold his hand, brushing his hair back with the other before wiping his tears.
his glassy eyes stare at you and it tells you everything you need to know.
he doesn't need to explain further, because you've also grown familiar to that feeling. because you've felt it multiple times from how much sunghoon has taken good care of you as well. seeing him cry happy tears is enough to make your eyes water too.
"i love you. i— i'm sorry. i don't know why i'm c–crying… i just love you so much—" he says in between sobs, wetting your shoulder with his tears as you take him into your arms again. "i fucking love you, angel. i'm g–grateful for you. i'm grateful for the world because it led me back to you. thank you, thank you, i don't know how else to say it—"
"shhh. i love you too. and i'm lucky to be the one who gets to see you and take care of you like this." you whisper, kissing the side of his head, lips grazing the shell of his ear each time you spoke.
sunghoon only sobbed harder, muscular arms wrapping tighter around your waist to get you impossibly closer to him. he kept muffling sweet professions of love against your skin. how he can't believe you'd put in this much effort for him, and how he's definitely going to prove to you he deserved being taken care of like this once he's all better.
"the fact that you love me, and that i love you, is enough to prove you deserve this and more, pengoo. but if you want to do that, you have to drink your medicine now. the sooner you get better, the sooner you can take care of me too, right?"
you hated that you were taking advantage of his vulnerable state, but you knew sunghoon—who was an avid hater of taking any sort of bitter supplements—would only accept it right now so you quickly pushed him a glass of water with one hand, the other holding three medicinal tablets atop your open palm.
he took it all without question, adam's apple slowly bobbing as he swallowed the medicine with a slight grimace on his pretty face. you smiled proudly and whispered praises, patting his head.
it was enough to make sunghoon cry again, arms instinctively reaching out for you like a child.
"you did so good, pengoo. so so good. i know you'll get better soon. i love you, mkay? i love you."
you held him close and kept whispering the same words over and over while running your hand through sunghoon's hair until his tears turned into sniffles. until the sniffles turned into quiet peace. he probably got drowsy after eating and crying so much that he just passed out in your arms.
you wanted to move, but you couldn't risk interrupting what was probably the most meaningful sleep he's been able to get thus far, so you just gently scoot down until you're both properly lying down.
you gently position sunghoon's head until it's laid on your chest, and you hear him whine sleepily. he looked for you even in his slumber, whispering your name quietly, built arms coiling around your waist like he was scared you'd vanish if he didn't hold you tight enough.
you just laughed and combed your fingers through his jet black hair, giving his forehead a kiss until his breathing evened out.
sunghoon's eyes fluttered open slowly to a pillow replacing the spot he knows you should've been in.
his head isn't too foggy anymore. there's no constant dull pulsing behind his eyes, and he could breathe so much better now. still, his body refused to move the way he wanted to. still sluggish, like his muscles couldn't catch up to the orders his brain was making.
he was starting to worry that everything had been a very happy dream, something his brain compensated him with in return for all the sleepless night full of agony he went through.
but he still tastes the broth in his mouth, and when he touched his forehead, he could feel a cooling pad there. something neither of his bestfriends would be smart enough to give him.
"angel?" he calls out.
he hears a pattering of footsteps to his room before you come in with that soft smile you always seem to wear around him. "hoonie, you're up. feeling better yet, big boy?"
you sit on the edge of the bed and sunghoon shivers when he feels the back of your hand press against his neck. "mhm.. why are your hands so cold?"
"one, i just finished washed the dishes. and two, because you're still warm. more stable than you were a while ago but i think you still need to rest some more." you settle on the bed next to him, pulling out his laptop from under his pillow. "you wanna watch a movie?"
the laptop is in front of sunghoon's spread legs with yours outside of his. you would normally be the one in front with your back pressed against his chest but you wanted to indulge his need to be as close to you as possible so you decided to flip the roles. just for tonight.
his bigger frame wasn't too much of an obstruction but you definitely had to lean to the side if you wanted a better view of the screen. and yes, the way the both of you were positioned like right now was a little embarrassing, and if anyone walked in, they'd probably laugh at how much of a baby sunghoon looked like leaning against your smaller figure.
you didn't care though, and neither did he.
it felt good being the little spoon. your arms were wrapped around his waist, and your chin was hooked on his shoulder. that's all he could ever ask for right now.
both of you watch the movie, just basking in the familiar routine. sunghoon would grunt under his breath if he ever felt your hand leaving his, snatching your wrist back until your fingers locked together again.
"you're extra clingy." you murmur, tip of your nose brushing against his nape.
sunghoon huffed. "and you're extra annoying when you don't allow me to bask in my girlfriend's touch when you know i've been deprived of it for nearly a week."
you steal a kiss on the rough skin of his jaw, grinning before shooting him the million dollar question: "then would you let me kiss you?"
sunghoon's taken back, and he sputters for an answer for the first few seconds before settling with a quiet no while shaking his head.
"why not?"
he blinks a few times, fiddling with his thumb before he clears his throat. "because i'm sick! and then you'll get sick, angel. you know i'd.. n–never turn that down—but not when i'm risking your health. i can't be as selfish as that."
you're persistent, breaking down his resolve by pressing your chest further against his back. "but i want a kiss right now, hoonie."
heat creeps up his neck, and while he's very fucking tempted to just throw it all out the window, the hypothetical image of you miserably lying in bed and drowning in cold sweat just like he had been was enough to make him reject the idea.
but even though his mouth says one thing, his body is saying another.
it knew how much he'd been craving for you. the image of kissing you, the way you sound when you're breathless and still asking for more—it was more than enough to get blood rushing to his cock. your breathy pleading so close against his ear and your cool fingertips running up and down his stomach weren't helping either.
your eyes catch the tiny bulge forming under his pajamas and you muffle your laughter against his jaw. "okay, no kisses on the lips," you concede. "but let me take care of you. of that."
his eyes widen, big palms attempting to cover the evidence of his arousal but it was too late. "i can just—"
the protest died in his throat as you slowly trail open-mouthed kisses down the sharp curve of his jaw.
he tried to ignore it. sunghoon willed himself to keep his eyes focused on the laptop's screen instead of the your lips brushing featherlight against his nape. instead of the cold sensation of your fingers pushing up his shirt and tracing the faint indented lines of his abs.
"it's okay. i just want to make my hoonie feel better. this feels good doesn't it?"
"ye—yeah." his voice broke when you move his hand away, pressing you palm against his bulge and rubbing it further against the cotton of his pajama pants. you push it down until his cock is revealed, making sunghoon hiss as the cool air of the room kisses the firmness of his already-damp cock. "fuck…"
you continue to trace lazy shapes on his hips while you held the base of his cock, giving it a few squeezes, slow stroking his thick, meaty cock until it grew even harder.
no wonder your soft boyfriend turned into a different man in bed.
having this much power and control over him, seeing him pathetically chase after your hand was seriously addicting. and hearing the low, breathy whines of your name as he begged for more only pushed you further into the intoxicating headspace.
sunghoon kept whimpering under his breath, hips weakly pushing upward to meet the pump of your hand but you kept him in place, biting the shell of his ear. "quit moving, baby. let me do all the work for you."
sunghoon's chest trembles as he takes in a breath through gritted teeth. he fists the blanket until his knuckles turned white, every muscle tensed as he urged himself to keep still. "okay.. just— p–please, angel. i'm so hard.. it hurts."
"i know it does. it looks like it does." his cock was burning hot and angrily throbbing in your hand. the thick veins of it were popping out as your thumb played with the crown of his cock, the rough pad of it rubbing against the slit and smearing the beads of his precum messily against the sensitive flesh.
you rub your palm against the tip until it was glistening, lubricated enough to properly stroke him. his eyes are unfocused and he's losing more and more control of his muscles the more you squeezed on his length that he has no other choice but to lean his head back against your shoulder.
gooseflesh rose in his skin when you held his jaw and locked it in is place, as if you wanted him to watch, to feel every deliberate move you made to ruin him: lips that bite at the pale skin of his neck which tasted faintly of mint body wash and salty sweat. nails that lightly brushed the sides of his cock—not enough to hurt, but enough to make him release spurts of precum that dripped off of the back of your hand.
you couldn't help but giggle against his neck. "the doors aren't locked.. and if the boys think you're in pain then they'll come barging in. do you really want that, hoonie?" you purr comes out low and sultry, making your boyfriend whine louder.
it was a blatant lie, but it was fun seeing sunghoon squirm and bite on his lips to muffle his own noises.
he's burning up—but for an entirely different reason now.
his cheeks were flushed pink, shell of his ears in an even deeper shade of it. beads of sweat rolled down his neck and you filthily lapped at every drop while darkening the mark you made above his pulse point—all while you maintained your pace, downright pornographic shlick shlick shlicks ringing in his ears each time you tugged on the skin of his cock.
"mmh—b–baby.. hnngh—fuck, it hurts.. h–hurts so good, angel.." sunghoon whimpered, voice still dry and raspy. you tried to pin sunghoon's hips down but he was far too needy, chasing after your hand with breathy pleads of your name.
"yeah? can't even keep yourself still for me, can you? could feel you throbbing against my palm, baby." you squeeze your hands tighter around his cock, causing his hips to falter in surprise but only for a quick second before he went back to fucking your fist like its the only thing he knew how to do.
"i want to.. hnn—can't—" his fingers wrapped around your wrist, keeping it in place. he bit on the tip of his tongue when you rubbed the leaking slit of his cock again, only to let go of it completely.
his eyes fluttered open but before he could even ask, you reached lower, giving his balls a tender squeeze.
his thighs tense up, a small broken moan leaving his swollen lips as his girth pressed against the bottom of his stomach while you continued to massage him, peppering kisses along his shoulder. "did you miss this hoonie? they feel heavier now.. did you need me to touch you that badly?"
he'd tried to touch himself to you. several times already, in fact.
and he hopelessly failed in all of his attempts, lacking the energy and strength to keep rubbing his cock despite how hard it would get at the mere thought of his girlfriend.
but now you're here, touching him and relieving all the aching frustrations he's had and it's taking sunghoon's every last bit of strength not to just explode on the spot.
"yes— f–fuck, yes," he nods, quick and frantic. his cock woefully searched for some sort of friction, bouncing against his pelvis each time it twitched due to your lack of attention. "can't— c–couldn't do it without you angel— please.. i need you to touch me again."
sunghoon begged, pleaded as loud as he could without actually disturbing his roommates. his pride was nowhere to be found, mind overtaken by pleasure to even dwell on the fact that he was letting you have control.
and while the idea of breaking him down until he was a babbling mess graced your mind, you could tell sunghoon was desperate, already with tears in his eyes, so you made the decision not to delay it any longer.
slender finger wrapped around his length again, giving the base a testing squeeze before you started pumping your hand quickly, not giving sunghoon a chance to be eased into it.
"shit—f–fuck! angel—" he leaned further back, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you twist your wrist, making more quiet whimpers escape his parted lips.
the tip of his cock had turned a heated shade of maroon from all the build-up you've done, and using your fingers, you made a tight ring just below it and squeezed with just enough pressure that you knew would get him undone.
"nnh… i c–can't— 'm gonna— f–fuck!"
translucent while ropes exploded out, landing messily all over sunghoon's black shirt and partly exposed stomach. you kept stroking him until he rode out his orgasm, milking out every last drop until his debauched whimpers turned more high-pitched from the overstimulation.
you gracefully let him go and brought your cum-stained hand closer to his face, tongue tracing the shell of his ear. "messy hoonie.. look at what you did."
but he tried to, but he couldn't. he felt dizzy, dishonored, and something akin to shame brewed within his chest as he seated with the fact that he enjoyed what just happened a little too much.
he just grabbed your hand and forced it to press against his shirt until all evidence of his submission was smudged against the fabric of it before turning around to bury his flushed face against your chest.
you coo, giggling heartily at sunghoon before running your fingers through his hair.
you place a soft kiss on the crown on his head, gently kicking the laptop to the side while you let the sound of the long-forgotten rom-com movie play in the background while you lull your sick sunghoon back to sleep.
YAN'S NOTES ➤ this sat in my inbox for quite a while and i've been meaning to get to this after several wips were done but i fear i'm a sucker for the e404 series and it's seriously the only thing that gets me out of a slump. also?? first time writing sub!member on here and of course Of Fucking Course it had to be sunghoon. lmk what u think pls < 3
SUMMARY: Sunghoon was an up-and-coming figure skater with a bright future, but he threw it all away to marry you. Thirteen years later, your marriage has failed, the kids don’t respect him one bit, and all his friends are wildly successful in life except him. He gets a chance to correct the mistakes of his past and change his life when he is miraculously transported back in time, before he even met you. But changing the past might cost him everything.
A/N: This took me so long to finish y'all I started considering actually taking ice skating lessons. PLEASE read for my sake. (Some scenes inspired by the movie 17 Again!)
thirteen years ago.
Sunghoon took a deep breath as the chill air of the rink, even from where he sat in the locker room, sent shivers down his spine. His thin black blouse with rhinestoned sleeves did nothing to shield him from the cold.
He should have been used to it by now. But today would be the most important skate of his life.
The World Championships. The event that would decide his place at the next Olympics.
Just a few years ago, he had missed out on competing completely due to a knee injury. Sunghoon was determined this time to make his dreams come true. His seniors always said that Olympic ice felt different, more real. This would be it. His last chance before the younger, more talented skaters took his spot later down the line.
He was picking at his nails with his teeth, a habit he so desperately needed to let go of. Even with ten competitors ahead of him, Sunghoon was already on edge. You, his good luck charm, had not arrived yet. It wasn't typical of you. In your three years of dating, you never missed the opening skate of any competition he'd been in.
It’s where you first met. You had been in the stands, taping your phone number onto a penguin plushie he’d caught after his award-winning skate. Since then, it's been tradition for you to sit in the same exact seat during local competitions.
His left leg bounced impatiently as he sat on the locker room bench. Sunghoon has sent about 16 texts to your phone already. He shook his head, unlocking his phone for the umpteenth time. Crickets. His phone screen photo of you blowing a kiss into the camera was taunting him now.
Where the hell were you?
Coach Jung patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t think too much. You're gonna psych yourself out.”
“I'm not nervous,” Sunghoon replied, unconvincingly. “It's just cold.”
Coach Jung rolled his eyes.
“You're not new to this, kid,” he doubted the young man. “You're gonna do great out there. This is what you've been dreaming of. Just don't mess it up.”
Sunghoon didn't know if that was meant to be motivating or not, but when Coach Jung left, he felt a pit in his stomach start to form. It's been years in the making. Blood, sweat, and tears were poured into this. The time he could've spent going on longer dates with you all went to extra hours practicing quads in the rink. He couldn't let his sacrifices go to waste. It would be a disservice to both of you.
He put his hands to his face and repeated a mantra of self-affirmations.
‘You got this, you got this, you-’’
“Hoon?” He heard your sweet voice call out. Your head poked through the locker room door before entering cautiously. Audience members weren’t typically allowed in here, but you always managed to sneak your way in.
He dropped his hands immediately, a wave of relief washing over him.
“There you are,” Sunghoon whispered to himself, rushing to you as fast as he could with skates on the carpet. You let out a small sound as he picked you up by the waist, spinning you around like a princess.
“Where have you been?” Sunghoon sighed happily, setting you down with a kiss to your temple. “I was blowing up your phone! I thought you died.”
You smiled, but he noticed how tight it looked. The light didn't quite reach your eyes, and your lips twitched as if it was almost painful to maintain. He brushed a stray hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.
“Everything okay?”
You nodded, resting your hand on his as his thumb drew small circles on your cheek.
“I…” you trailed off. You were looking at the ground, at the ceiling, and even at the trash cans. Anywhere but him. “I want to talk to you about something.”
He raised a brow. Your fingers were quivering, and he noticed redness in the whites of your eyes. Were you crying?
“Of course, baby. You can tell me anything.”
Sunghoon is worried now as he took both of your hands into his. He felt how cold they were, even more so than his.
“Can the remaining five acts please be on stand-by?” the overhead speaker blared into the locker room. That was him. He was one of the last five.
He pursed his lips as he looked towards the door and back at you. Your mouth opened, just as flustered by the announcement.
“Let's wait,” you said in a rush, noticing the sweatiness of his palms. “It can wait.”
Sunghoon shook his head. Your voice faltered. He knew better now not to let these things linger.
“No, [Y/N]. Tell me what's wrong.” He stood his ground. Your eyes were watering, his gaze unmoving from yours. As you spoke, it was like the world around him went still. His chest felt heavy, throat so constricted he thought he would choke.
“I'm pregnant.”
No, he thought. It can’t be.
“H-how? We never– That’s impossible– We always use-”
His voice trailed off, afraid that if he said anything out loud, it would become more real. You pursed your lips, biting your top lip so hard that it drew blood.
“Don’t you remember?”
two months ago.
You were laughing, he was laughing. You both looked insane, obnoxiously cackling at nothing, in the dimly lit streets that led to his apartment. You were drinking with the guys at a new bar, underestimating the power of tequila compared to the usual shots of soju.
Sunghoon's arm was wrapped around your waist, putting his weight on you to prevent himself from faceplanting on the ground. He had lost too many hands in poker with Jay and Jake, and instead of betting money, he took an extra four shots as punishment. It was a big mistake.
“They got lucky,” he blabbered, “If we played Go Fish, I would have wiped the floor with them.”
He was hiccuping, and that sent you into a further spiral of giggles. Sunghoon was always so darn cute when drunk, so different from his icy exterior. His cheeks were tinged with red, and his pupils dilated. You weren't doing all that well either, with your body so warm from the alcohol that you had shed your jacket on the ground just a few minutes earlier. Where that jacket was now is lost on you.
“Hoon!” you exclaimed, pointing at his apartment gate. “We did it!”
Sunghoon stumbled to get his keys from his pocket. Opening the gate and then going up the steps felt like an hour-long operation with how you two struggled. When he slid down the wall by the entrance of his apartment, you collapsed with him.
The two of you, by his coat rank, staring into each other with heavy-lidded gazes and too far gone to even turn the lights on. By then, your movements were already out of your control.
You traced the moles on his face like divine art, cradling his jaw with such care. Even in the drunkest of states, he looked so heavenly. He was so pretty in the moonlight.
You pressed your lips against his, slowly at first, tugging at the rolled-up sleeves of his button-up shirt. Sunghoon made a noise of shock before deepening the kiss, hands roaming everywhere until they met your waist. His lips were so plush against yours, hungry to taste every inch of you. Your tongues danced with an urgency you've never felt before. Nipping at your bottom lip, he coaxed small sounds out of you.
Sunghoon lifted you, firm hands on your bum to sit you atop him.
He broke the kiss to bury himself in the junction between your neck and shoulder. Sunghoon's lips found your pulse point, suctioning around it like he was drawing your heartbeat out of your body. You gripped his soft hair and tilted your head back to give him better access. He lapped at your neck, your collar bone, anywhere his tongue could access. He was addicted to the taste of your skin, to the taste of you. You always smelled so good, had him so riled up even in the most unassuming of moments. He remembered how you looked in the bar with this sparkly red dress. Remembered how it rode up every time you sat down next to him. Fuck.
You felt him then. The tent of his pants and the friction of his hips as they hopelessly jut up to meet yours.
You whined at the contact. He was palming your ass now with both hands, massaging as he moved you up and down on the tightness of his jeans.
“Hoon,” you gasp. “Not here-”
He lifted his head to look at you, eyes so dark and full of lust. He wasn’t having it; you could see it in his face. His deliciously tense jawline. The bead of sweat running down his temple. You felt yourself clench around nothing just at the sight. How could a man be so gorgeous?
“Can't wait,” he hummed. “Need you now.”
He pushed your dress up your body, the material bunched at your waist.
You purse your lips in anticipation. He’s rock hard by now, and you can’t help but take it as an invitation to feel him. Your hands find his bulge, ghosting over his form. It jumped in response when you finally took hold, squeezing cautiously. Your cheeks warmed at the sight of the front of his jeans already damp with your fluids. Sunghoon enjoyed the view just as much as you did, his head tilted back to relish in your ministrations. He couldn’t hold back any longer.
Sunghoon’s hand, large and veiny, moved your panties to the side impatiently.
"Hoon-" you gasped at the skin-to-skin contact.
His fingers traced the slit of your folds up and down, covering his digits with your slick. You found his swollen lips again to suppress your whimpers, saliva running down your joined mouths as you unzipped his painful-looking jeans. He was already prepping you for him, index finger cautiously pushing its way inside your plush walls. He groaned at the feeling of your fluttering warmth. Already, you were sucking him in.
“Always so fucking wet,” he muttered on your lips. You couldn’t help but grind down on him, a roundabout way of telling him to apply more pressure. To go harder. Rougher. To ruin you. He chuckled at your frustration. Needed to see more of it, more of you begging.
Sunghoon tested the waters and pushed in a second. Your moans were drowned out again by his merciless mouth. Tongues shoved so far down each other's throats, you swore you could feel him at the back of your neck.
He was fucking you onto his hand now, his palm making contact with your clit after every thrust. His forearm was tense, pace so relentless. Animalistic. You were practically bouncing on him, hands digging into his shoulder blades to chase your release. He loved the sight, wanting to hear you come undone just from his measly fingers in your dripping pussy.
“So desperate,” he hummed into your mouth. “Who's making you like this?”
Sunghoon was never this mouthy during sex, usually because he didn’t want the apartment next door to hear through the thin walls. But he had let go of all his inhibitions, the tequila still sitting fresh in his stomach.
“You, Hoon,” you cried out, legs shaking from the harsh pace of his fingers and your incessant grinding. “Please-”
You didn't know exactly what you were begging for, but you knew he could give it to you. Knew he was the only one who could. Your mind was filled with Sunghoon and Sunghoon only. The effects of the alcohol had made you a bumbling mess, pleading and begging for more. Your back arches to meet his fingers better, but it wasn’t not enough.
He added a third to relieve you, watching as your mouth opened into a silent scream.
“Hoon– Need it– Please– I need–”
You couldn't find the right words, couldn’t even keep yourself upright without his support. Sunghoon’s hands roamed up your body as one made its way to the back of your neck. With his thumb, he pressed down gently on the pulse point he was nipping at just earlier. His eyes were heavy on you, watching you so intently. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as your airways slowly constricted, as his thumb pushed against you. God, you loved the feeling.
“Enjoying yourself, baby?”
Lightheaded, you were practically gripping his bulge at this point. The sounds between your legs were borderline pornographic, his fingers drawing out every wet squelch as they sank and twisted in and out of you. You felt so full of him, three fingers so deep inside you. But you could take more; you wanted to take more.
“Speak up,” he drawled, his voice slurring from the tequila. “Tell me what you want, or I'll stop.”
You sobbed, clawing at his clothed chest as he let go of your neck to let you talk. You gasped for air as you let yourself fall onto him.
“Need you inside me,” you cried as he pistoned his fingers into you harder. You wished he could just rip your underwear so you could feel his rough palm grind onto your bare clit. “Please, please, pl-”
"I am inside you," he teased. And all you could do was wail, shaking your head out of distress.
"Hoon-"
Your movements were forced to stop as Sunghoon's free hand gripped your thigh. His fingers were curved into you, stroking that spongy spot that he always managed to find. He massaged your G-spot at a steady pace, anticipating your climax. You wanted to move, but he held you down roughly. Your eyes were forced to look into his, and you felt the floodgates of your release start to open.
“No-,” you whined.
You were close, so close. But your mind was made up. Well, at least what was left of it.
“Wanna cum with you. Can I, Hoonie? Please?” you beg.
“Fuck-”
His grip on you loosened. His hand slowly left your tight folds, and he admired the slick that coated his long fingers. He brought them to your mouth, motioning you to taste the juices he coaxed out of you. With your doe eyes looking straight at him, you swallowed around him. Tongue flattened and bringing him in deeper.
His other hand reached into the back of his pocket, fiddling around to find his emergency condom. The one that became a necessity to bring around you.
Sunghoon's mind was all over the place. Your tongue lapped at his fingers, sucking them so harshly. He'd have given anything right now to see your lips wrapped around his cock instead.
He'd almost grabbed the condom until you pulled his boxers down. Your mouth released his fingers with a small ‘pop’ as his painfully hard member slapped his stomach. You positioned yourself closer, adjusting so that his thickness slid against your soiled, clothed pussy. You cursed your stupid underwear for getting in the way again.
“B-baby-” Sunghoon stuttered out as you moved your panties to the side once more, his raw cock lined up to your aching hole. “Just give me a second-”
His hand tried to reach for his wallet again, but you interlocked them with yours instead. You shook your head, grinding against him cautiously. You don't know what's gotten into you. It's like the tequila was letting you act out your deepest, darkest dreams — ones of him fucking his cum so deeply into you that you were dripping wet with his fluids.
“Please?” you asked hopelessly. Your breath hitched. His cock met your clit, his precum spread all over your folds. Fuck it. You were too far gone. “I-I wanna feel you.”
Sunghoon would like to think he had self-control. Would like to believe that he was calmer than most. But the way your pleading eyes looked at him, and how your legs trembled in excitement. His intoxicated brain couldn't tell right from wrong. He wanted to give you everything you asked for.
“Fuck, are you sure?” he groaned as you aligned his cock to your entrance, pushing down slightly to envelop his tip. He lets out a hiss, teeth gritting from the feeling. You were so tight, so fucking perfect for him.
“Mhm,” you mustered, wrapping your arms around his neck as his large hands met your ass again. “It's okay…”
You were sinking onto him now, his head buried into your neck from the sensation. You two had never done it without a condom before, always so careful. But he wondered, as his large cock was slowly sucked into your soaked pussy, why he'd never fucked you raw before. Sunghoon swore under his breath as he felt you clench around him. Fucking you with a condom was ruined for him forever. He could never put one on again.
“Fuck, baby,” he willed himself not to move too fast. The stinging stretch of him had you withering above him, but you didn’t care. Not one bit. You clutched his hair as you impaled yourself on him, so lost in the feeling of him penetrating you so slowly.
He was fully sheathed inside you now. Sunghoon needed a second to recuperate, but you were making it so difficult for him.
"Fuck-" he inhaled sharply as you grinded down on his pulsating cock. You were so impatient, already so worked up from his fingers.
You were suctioning him, trapping him in your walls like you would never let him go. His grip on your hips tightened as he growled into your collarbone.
“Baby,” he said sternly this time, finding some semblance of sanity. “Don't.”
You whined, your hips stuttering through his tight grip on your ass cheeks. You wanted him to plow into you like you were his personal toy. Was there anything wrong with that?
“Why?” you drawled out, desperate for movement, for anything. Your eyes met his, and even through your drunken haze, you understood. He was close, already so on edge from feeling your raw pussy. And that made you want him even more.
You swore your hips moved on their own. You lifted yourself, shallowly thrusting yourself against him as he tried to hinder your attempts.
“N-no,” he grunted. “Too soon-”
You giggled as his hands were on your back now. Despite your protests, he did not stop you in any meaningful way.
His grip on your ass was replaced with him pulling the straps down of your dress and bra to free your bouncing tits. He cupped them as you raised yourself higher, until just the very tip of him was left inside you. You took a deep breath, pushing yourself down on him without assistance. You moaned, feeling his heaviness in your lower stomach.
“Fuck-” he cried through clenched teeth. Sunghoon’s head was against the wall now, hands massaging your breasts so eagerly.
He tugged at your nipples, pinching them between his index finger and thumb. Such a sight for sore eyes, seeing him so fucked out underneath you as you bounced on his cock. You wished you could engrave this in your memory. His parted lips and glistening forehead.
You grinded your hips so helplessly against him, hands on his knees as you squeezed him through every downward thrust.
“Baby, s-slow down.”
You're determined now, even as you start to feel that fluttering ache in your core. You wanted to do good for him, wanted to make him lose control like you would whenever he had you pinned to the bed and crying.
“Hoon, speak up,” you teased, mimicking his earlier words. “Tell me what you want or I-”
You couldn't finish your sentence as his hand meets the back of your neck, crashing his lips onto yours. His hands traveled down to your thighs, squeezing them roughly.
He thrusted up into you harshly, his grip on you guiding his movements. His pace was even more merciless than yours, not giving you time to catch your breath as you felt your inner walls contract around him.
No!
He needed to cum first. It was always you who came undone before him. You just needed to hold out, just for a few more seconds-
And in perfect timing, he found it. That part of you that had you practically screaming into his mouth. He smirked against your lips and hoisted you closer, fucking up into you as his fingers pressed firmly into the flesh of your thighs. Your insides churned with a tingling feeling, like something needed to be released. You pulled yourself away from his lips.
"No… Hoon-"
"Take it," he grunted. "You want it, right?”
You cried as his thrusts grazed your G-spot over and over again, his tip kissing your cervix at the right angles.
“So fucking take it."
Your eyes roll back, the sensation was stronger and stronger until-
"Oh my god-"
Your climax hit you like a ton of bricks, crashing down on you so unexpectedly that your walls wanted to hold his raw length in place. Sunghoon continued his thrusts, not caring for the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You had your fun. Now, let him have his.
His hands spread your ass cheeks apart, guiding you down onto his painfully hard cock with fervor. Sunghoon felt his high inching closer as he pumped in and out of your wetness, ignoring your cries of overstimulation.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned into your neck. He's there. He felt it. You braced yourself for his sweet release.
“Need to pull out...”
Your eyebrows furrowed, expression laced in devastation. As if on instinct, you clenched around him. You wanted it. Whatever ‘it’ was.
“In me,” you babbled through strained moans. “Please, Hoonie?”
He grit his teeth. That damn pet name. You were evil, so fucking evil. With your pretty tits and batting eyelashes. Who was he to deny you? His thrusts were erratic, admiring as your breasts bounced to the rhythm of his thrusts.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-”
His hips stuttered up into you. White, hot spurts met your cervix as you reached another orgasm from the sheer feeling of his release, mouth wide open. Your hips gyrated against his, easing both of you through your releases. His head rolled back, jaw clenched, and eyes wired shut as he felt you milk his cock of everything he was worth.
You watched as a white ring formed around his cock was buried deep in you, still a little hard. You rested your body against his. Your eyelids were heavy, so content and warm in ways that only Sunghoon could bring out in you.
“I love you,” he sighed into your hair, his own lethargy getting the best of him. “So fucking much.”
“I love you too.”
And as ridiculous as it sounds, the two of you slept in that position for hours. Two bodies connected at the entrance way of Sunghoon's studio apartment. When the sun came up and you realized what was done in your drunken states, you two panicked for the wrong reason. Did the neighbors hear? What happened to your jacket? Were you gonna get a UTI?
Sunghoon's cheeks reddened from the memory. It had to have been that night.
“A-are you sure?” he stuttered.
You nodded solemnly. You knew it wouldn't be good news for him. It wasn't for you either.
You were almost done with university. It’s supposed to be the year you figured out what you wanted out of a career. So when your first wave of morning sickness hit you just a week earlier, you knew every plan that you had would be forever ripped from your fingers.
To travel the world. To start new hobbies. It would all have to wait. This would be your life now.
When you told your mother, tears streamed down her face. She called you everything underneath the sun. But she knew what it was like to carry a life unexpectedly, so she hugged you through it. Your dad’s reaction was worse. He hadn’t spoken to you yet.
“Two months along,” you whispered. Though he could never regret that night, he realized now how stupid it must have been to ignore the alarm bells in his head. He knew better. You knew better. Why the fuck did it end up like this?
“So…” He gulped. He didn’t know what to say. “What now?”
“I…” you started. Heaving a deep breath, you felt him tense up.
“I want to keep the baby,” you swallowed. Sunghoon’s mouth was parted, and his eyes were blank of emotion.
It made you anxious, his lack of response.
When he didn't reply, you started again. “What should we-”
“Sunghoon Park. Sunghoon Park. Please be on stand-by,” the overhead speaker rang out. He didn't mean to, but like muscle memory, his hand let go of yours. Guilt crashed over him, and he couldn't bring himself to look into your wavering eyes as he walked past you.
The competition. This was his last chance. Coach Jung's voice resounded in his head. Don't mess it up.
“Hoon-”
Your voice fell on deaf ears. His hands covered his face again, trying to refocus. He couldn't throw this away. Years. It took him years to get to this point. He couldn't. He had to skate.
Tears spilled over as you watched his back retreat away from you. You should have waited to tell him, but he had asked. He said he wanted to know.
Your back slumped against the wall of lockers, clutching your stomach as you cried. You couldn't bring yourself to go to the stands and watch him perform.
You knew it was dumb. You weren’t ready, not even close. But still… You wanted to try.
But him. Sunghoon.
You leaned your head back against the cold wall, breath faltering through your tears. What did you even expect? That he'd be happy? Excited?
You let out a shaky laugh.
Of course not. It's not like you were either.
You stood up, dusting yourself off.
You'd figure out a way to do this, you convinced yourself. If it meant that you were by yourself, that was fine. He didn't have to be there. He had big dreams, ones that predated you. You understood, even though it hurt.
“Next to skate, representing the People's Republic of Korea. Sunghoon Park!”
The cheers that ensued soon after made your chest constrict just a little more. You just couldn’t bear to watch him skate now. It was all too much.
You trudged towards the ice rink's exit, arms crossed around you like you were holding yourself. You were proud of him, so proud. He worked so tirelessly for an opportunity like this. Missed sleep and took a gap year from college to pursue this. He wanted it so bad, and though it was heartbreaking to watch him walk away, you knew why. You could talk later, you convinced yourself.
But the thoughts still echoed in your head.
A professional figure skater couldn’t be a father—not now, not at his age. You knew that. God, you hated that you knew it so well. His life wasn’t what most people imagined. There was no glamor in it.
It was practices at the crack of dawn in freezing rinks and endless flights to cities he barely saw beyond hotel rooms. He could only fund basic living expenses with what little he earned from winning. He had a part-time job working the graveyard shift at a convenience store to even afford competition fees and dates with you.
He gave everything for this dream—his body, his sanity, his youth.
But he tried. In everything he did, he tried. That was the worst part.
Because even with all that trying, you still knew. That there would be no space in his life for the tiny heartbeat inside you.
You knew he'd have to quit. There was no way around it. Raising a child takes too much time away from the rink.
If he stayed, if he chose to be in this child's life, he'd have to give it all up.And it would be because of you.
But this was your life too. Your body. Your future. And no matter how tightly you clung to the image of him at your side, holding your hand in the delivery room, learning how to hold a newborn with trembling fingers—you had to be honest with yourself.
You wanted this baby. Even if it meant letting him go, even if that meant standing alone with a life you never planned for, you’d do it.
Because you knew that if it ever came down to choosing between his dream and you, it would always be-
“[Y/N], wait!”
You stopped in your tracks, stunned to hear his voice so close. Like he was here and not on the ice. You didn’t even notice that music stopped permeating the walls of the rink, that the announcer had moved on to the next contestant. He was running to you, socks thumping on the ground like he had taken his skates off only a moment before.
No. It couldn't be.
He reached you, his arms wrapped around you from behind. You heard his shaky breath against the back of your head. His thumb rubbed your forearms, planting a small kiss on your hair.
“We'll figure it out,” Sunghoon blurted out when he felt like the silence between you two was suffocating. “Together.”
You turned around to face him, panicked.
“Sunghoon, no,” you tried to push him away, but he pulled you in closer. “You need to go-”
“No.”
You looked at him, pain etched in every part of his beautiful face.
“But that's your future,” you cried out, mustering everything in yourself to not melt in his embrace. He was making a mistake. He'd hate you for the rest of your life if he-
“No,” he said again, much clearer. More determined. “It’s you.”
His hand drifted to your stomach, and he smiled this time as he looked into your teary eyes.
“You're my future.”
You shook your head incessantly. “Hoon, you're not thinking straight. I should've waited to tell you. You're not in your right mind. You need to go back and-”
He silenced you with his lips, so soft—like it might break you if he were any less gentle. You fell into his touch, unknowingly pulling him closer. He kissed you again and again, hands holding yours until your tremors faded with his touch.
“I love you,” he would say between each peck. “I'm not letting you do this alone.”
And you smiled, a real, genuine smile.
“I love you too.”
You moved in with him in that tiny studio apartment, shortly after, sharing a bed that barely even fit his tall frame. The cradle he built took up the majority of the living area.
But it was nice, waking up with him every day. He talked in his sleep, would whisper your name in that sweet voice of his so lovingly. Some days, Sunghoon wouldn't let you lift a finger, would insist that you needed as much rest as possible before your due date. You had to convince him that your job as a receptionist was certainly not so physically taxing that he had to follow you to it every day.
You also got married. It was simple. Just Sunghoon and you in a courthouse with Jake and Jay, trying not to stifle their laughter as witnesses to your marriage ceremony. You wore the white dress your mother wore, and Sunghoon wore his best suit, tie tied by you.
“Say cheese!” Jake chimed as you two posed with your signed certificate. The two of them cooed at your growing belly.
You were showing now, a small bump that Sunghoon admired each time he saw you do your online classes on the kitchen counter. He never got around to buying a desk, even though he was also back in school full-time.
He had that dreaded conversation with Coach Jung beneath the dim lights of an empty rink. Sunghoon told him quietly, almost like an apology, that he’d be hanging up his skates until further notice. He wanted to be there for you at every step of the pregnancy. If he was going to stick beside you, he was going to do it right.
Coach didn’t yell. He didn’t need to. The disappointment on his face said everything.
And so Sunghoon hadn’t touched the ice since.
He couldn’t bear to set foot in that rink anymore. Not when he knew he’d only be watching from the stands.
Not when the sound of blades carving through the ice was coming from someone else’s skates.
Not when he used to relish in the cold air passing through his body. Now, the only wind on his face came from passing cars as he biked to his second job.
He picked up a shift at a nearby restaurant. Just as a server. The kind of job that reminded him how painfully ordinary he was without his skates. Sometimes, when no one’s looking, he’ll shift his weight just right and practice his landings in the break room, arms out, knees bent.
Other times, he scrolls through YouTube during his graveyard shift at the convenience store, searching up his own name with trembling fingers, watching old performances through a phone screen. Reading comments. Trying to remember what it felt like to matter to people he never met.
You noticed, probably more than you let on. You just tried not to pry. He would get distant when you mentioned it, like that part of himself needed to be tucked away and out of his sight. You knew he was afraid, terrified to look back and see everything he gave up.
But when Sunghee was born, it was like his world started to make sense again. He held her like she was made of glass. Sobbed so loudly the first time he saw her, you thought he was in pain.
But no, he was just overwhelmed. Taken by the way her tiny hand curled around his finger, how her cries quieted the moment he held her close.
He’d protect her, he swore to himself. That this—her—wrapped up in the pink hospital blanket, was his life now.
And maybe, for a moment, he believed that was enough.
But the thoughts never stopped. His eyes would flicker toward the old duffel bag in the closet, where his skates were still packed away. He gave that up. For you. For her. And he’d never say he regretted it. But you knew.
You understood what he was grieving. Because you grieved too.
That girl who used to dream of making art, she felt like a ghost now. Someone you used to know.
Your passions, the things that once lit a fire in you, now sat gathering dust. All shelved quietly the moment your body became a home for Sunghee.
And your parents. You were still trying to reassemble the broken pieces of your relationship with them. Your mother tried to be there for you in her own way, but her disappointment was loud in the quietest moments between you two. And your father… well, he still hadn’t really looked you in the eye since the day you told him.
And though she was born healthy, Sunghee came into the world screaming. She was a loud baby, inconsolable most nights, and the exhaustion had tested Sunghoon and you.
You took turns because you had to. He’d rock her until sunrise, then stumble to his classes. He started falling asleep during his breaks at work, cheek pressed against cold metal tables.
He didn’t care much for his own health, but the bags beneath your eyes pained him. Your face, once bright and curious, had dimmed under all the sleepless nights and rising costs of diapers. You were both burnt out.
He dropped Sunghee off with his parents for one night and dragged you out to see your friends. It was Jake's going-away dinner.
“It’s so hard to meet nowadays,” you sighed. “Feels like I’ve been nursing a migraine for the past three months.”
Jake laughed.
“Sad I won’t get to see her grow up,” he said as he poured himself a beer. “Make sure to bring her to Australia one day. She deserves to see her coolest uncle play football.”
Niki rolled his eyes.
“No one’s paying for that long-ass flight to see you benchwarm,” Niki mumbled, chewing on some chips. “Have her come see me dance instead. At least I’ll be in the center.”
Jake smacks his friend on the back of the head.
“No need for any of that,” Jay chimed in. “She won’t have time for either of you. Papa bear here probably already has her future all mapped out. Skates on before she can walk.”
An awkward silence filled the room. The joke was lighthearted, but it landed too close to a wound no one had dared to touch in the past year. Sunghoon gave a quiet laugh, a hollow one without warmth. He brought the bottle to his lips and didn’t look at anyone when he spoke.
“Yeah... she’ll be a star.”
He eyed the ceiling, pondering what she would look like. Maybe just like him. Graceful. Passionate. “Olympic-worthy. Could probably win gold if we find the right coach early enough.”
You pursed your lips and stared at the condensation running down your glass.
Sunoo cleared his throat, noticing the tense atmosphere. He raised his glass with forced enthusiasm. “To our beautiful Sunghee,” he cheered. “And to Jake’s success!”
Sunghoon smiled, but not really. He was happy for his friend, sure. But behind his facade, envy sat heavy on his tongue.
‘This night could have been for you. They could have been congratulating you. And you gave it all up. Now look at you. You’re a nobody.’
You couldn’t help but watch him throughout the night as he grew quieter, his sips of beer more like chugs now. You rubbed circles on his back like you always did when he got like this, hoping to bring him back into the conversation. But his eyes stayed glued to the back corner of the bar.
As you patted him, he pulled your wrist away. Not harshly. Not angrily. Just a simple tug. He set your hand back on your lap, his gaze straight ahead and away from you.
“I’m okay,” he assured you, but you didn’t believe him. Not then.
Not ever, really.
Though time passed, life never got easier. The weight of responsibility pressed harder on your shoulders with each passing year. And while you both smiled through milestones and made do with the small hiccups in your relationship, you were content with this life. Doing laundry on lazy Sundays, Sunghoon singing nursery rhymes to Sunghee before school.
But after the birth of your second child, Sungjae, it had all started to rot.
Sunghoon’s longing for his old life never faded. It stewed in him, creeping into his thoughts at his corporate job after finishing university, haunting him on bus rides home.
The bills piled higher. Your patience wore thinner. Conversations turned into quiet disagreements and tired sighs. You no longer fought. You didn’t even have the energy for that. Just two ghosts of your former selves moving through the same rooms, sleeping in the same bed, wondering what could’ve been.
thirteen years later. the present.
Sunghoon adjusts his tie, furrowing his brows as he sees how crooked it is from the reflection of the mirror. He gives up halfway through. Fuck it, it would be a no-tie kind of day. He exits the bedroom, his footsteps making loud echoes on the way down the spiral staircase and towards the all-marble kitchen. He inhales slowly as he smells the fragrance of smoked spices dancing around his nostrils. It was enough to make his mouth water.
“What's cooking, good-looking?” he says, entering the kitchen with a wide grin on his face.
“Ew,” a voice rang out, soft and disgruntled. Sunghoon turns the corner and almost laughs at the sight.
“Shut up,” Sunoo scoffs, clad in an apron and silk pajamas. “Don’t say corny shit like that in my house until you get your act together.”
Sunghoon takes a seat on the barstool of the kitchen counter. He watches Sunoo maneuver the wide expanse of the kitchen like an expert.
“I'm a dad,” Sunghoon sighs out. “That’s kind of our thing.”
“Yeah, one going through a divorce,” Sunoo snaps back, monitoring his frittata closely on the stove.
Sunghoon's shoulders slump. Of course, the only friend willing to let him stay for an indefinite amount of time was the one most critical of his life choices. Sunoo insisted, in fact. Said his place was “feeling empty” anyway.
“So,” Sunoo coughs, acknowledging he might have taken it too far with his earlier comment. “Any word from her about the court date yet?”
Sunghoon shrugs, eyes on his watch as it nears 8:30 a.m. He'd have to leave soon to get to work. His boring, dull job as a fiscal manager at blah blah blah corporation. Even he barely knows what he does for a living.
“Can I borrow your car?” Sunghoon asks, ignoring his friend's question. He doesn't like to talk about it. Doesn't want to speak anything into existence, even if it was already happening.
You asked for it two weeks ago. A divorce.
He's been living with (mooching off of) Sunoo since.
“Which one? The Bugatti or the Ferrari?”
Sunghoon gives Sunoo a side-eye, and the younger fails to stifle a laugh. He never wastes a second to flex on his friend, the only one out of their friend group who worked at a 9-5 job in total and absolute misery.
Heeseung's a streamer, Jay took over as CEO of his father's company, Jake was still playing football in Australia, Jungwon started his own Taekwondo studio, and Niki was traveling the world as a choreographer. And of course, Sunoo wound up in a big old mansion with his modeling career.
Sunghoon thought he'd end up like them. He got the right experience after university to find a stable job that didn't involve slaving away at customer service gigs like he did before.
He thought he'd move up higher in his company by now. Have a team to call his own, like Jungwon had, or make “small, high-impact decisions” like Jay claims he does. But none of that ever came. His heart was never in it.
Sunghoon sighs.
“Whatever gets me from Point A to Point B,” he mutters. Sunoo cuts a piece of frittata from the skillet and plates it. He slides it over to his older friend and tosses a key from his pocket.
“Take the Kia Soul.”
Sunghoon groans. “You're fucking with me.”
“Mr. Park,” his coworker chirps into his ear. “I was wondering how your KPIs were this week…”
Sunghoon lets him drone on as he types on his computer. No private office, just a cubicle by the elevators. He hates how people tend to gravitate towards him for small talk. He's not very good at it. Never has been. It was a common joke within his family that he skated more than he spoke growing up.
You dragged him out of his shell when you met, cracked him open with your bright-eyed gazes and addictive laughter. He’d planned to keep his head down when he was younger. No distractions and no detours. Just figure skating.
But how could he not fall in love with you?
He shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts aside before it settles in too deeply. He reminisces too much.
It’s like the past is all his mind drifts off to these days.
He leaves work on time. Gets stuck in traffic, like usual. And drives to the home you two once shared. A routine he's used to by now.
He sees your car in the driveway and groans. He knew if he sees you, you'd bring up the papers again. Those stupid fucking papers.
“Hey, kiddo,” he says as he enters the once-familiar home. You've made changes to it since he's been gone. He squints to get a better look. In just two weeks, the kitchen's completely repainted with a soft green instead of gray. The living room was completely rearranged, and family pictures were taken down from the walls.
Sungjae is sitting on the couch, playing with his iPad. He only looks up for a second before he gets back into whatever is playing on his device. Sunghoon knew he should have hidden that thing before he left. Or, he guesses, before you kicked him out.
“Where's your sister?” he asks, practically into the void.
As if on cue, Sunghee walks down the stairs. Her eyes are already rolling, and she's still wearing her pink pajamas and bunny slippers.
“Get dressed, princess. We're gonna be late for your practice!”
Sunghee tsks.
“C'mon,” Sunghoon adds with a forced smile. “You missed the last two practices already. You're gonna fall behind-”
“Dad, I already told you I want to quit,” she cuts in. “Can't you just take a freaking hint?”
Sunghoon stares blankly at his daughter, trying to hold back the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. Sunghoon doesn’t know where she gets the attitude comes from. It's like when Sunghee hit the age of 13, she morphed into a walking stick of dynamite with a terribly short fuse.
“Well,” he begins, voice tight but even. “Why don't we push through it for today, hm? You know, back in my day, I wasn't always up for the challenge, but-”
“We get it dad!” she groans. “'Back in my day' this, 'if I were you' that. No one cares!"
It stings him more than he cares to admit.
"Sunghee," he says, slower this time, the edge creeping into his voice.
She just scoffs at her father's serious expression. She's never been scared of him when he's angry. That was always your role.
"I’m not going," she stands her ground, crossing her arms. "You can't make me. If you wanna go so bad, then go to that stupid ice rink by yourself.”
Sunghoon inhales sharply, planting his hands on his hips to seem more assertive.
From the couch, seven-year-old Sungjae snickers.
“Listen here, young lady-”
“Listen here, young lady…” Sungjae mocks, in a tone much like his father's. Sunghoon whips his head to his iPad kid.
“And you, young man-”
“Sunghoon,” you say sternly as you appear at the staircase. “I already called to cancel. Indefinitely. Even if you take her now, she won't even be able to join the other kids.”
Sunghee sticks her tongue out at her father, prancing to the couch to pinch her younger brother's cheeks.
He blinks, brows knitting together. “What? Why would you do that without telling me?”
"Sorry, was that a decision that needed your approval?" you ask sarcastically. "You can't make her do something she doesn't want to do."
Sunghoon scoffs, pointing an accusatory finger at you. But he stops himself. His gaze flickers to the kids, who pretend like they're not watching from the living room.
He swallows down whatever instinct tells him to argue right here, right now. You two never fought in front of them, an unspoken rule. Even if you were technically separated, he would not break that now.
“Let's talk in our room,” he whispers closely, and you roll your eyes.
“My room,” you correct, already turning to head back up. You don’t see it, but he tries not to flinch at your harshness.
He closes the door behind you two, the air thick with tension. He starts again.
“Why are you making decisions without me already?” he asks, trying to keep his tone level. “You cancel her figure skating classes and repaint the kitchen? Why are you-”
You sigh, already tired.
“We've been talking about repainting that ugly kitchen for years, Sunghoon,” you sigh. "You never wanted to actually get started on it. Sorry, I actually make time for the things I want."
So this is the direction you wanted the conversation to go in? Fine. He can be passive-aggressive, too.
"And Sunghee? Didn't you think to run that by me when I’m the one that pays for those lessons?"
You grit your teeth. He sees where Sunghee gets it from now, your hands crossed over your chest in disdain.
"Have you tried listening to her about practices? She gets injured all the time! Coach Jung is horrible to her. She’s miserable-”
His jaw tightens. “You don't think I was too? Half the time, I hated skating! But that’s what it takes. You think greatness just feels good all the time?! And the kitchen was fine. I don’t get why—”
"She's not trying to be great, Sunghoon!" you cry exasperatedly, your hands thrown up into the air. "She's not trying to be you."
You point your finger at his chest. “And you always think everything's fine. Until it's too late.”
Your words hung in the air, his eyes meeting yours.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he says finally, quieter this time.
You retract your hand, nervous under his gaze. It’s intense, familiar in a way that still sends sparks throughout your body, even now. Even after everything.
“Stop trying to force your dreams onto her,” you finally let out, and you see his eyes waver. "Just because it didn't work out for you doesn't mean you can try again through her."
“That's not what-”
“Look,” you interrupt him, turning away from him to face the wall. “All I'm saying is that maybe this is your wake-up call. Things change. Not everything that you want is going to happen. Maybe learn to change with it.”
He scoffs.
You turn back around to face him. He's angry, but his face doesn’t give it away. It’s his trembling hands, how his posture straightens just a little too stiffly.
“A little too late to change when my whole life was already laid out for me,” he says through bated breaths. “It’s not like I ever had a choice where I’d end up.”
Your heart sinks. “And it's all my fault, right?”
Sunghoon’s eyes flicker, his gaze softening at your hurt expression.
“I didn't say that-”
“But it's what you think, right?” You try to look strong. You think of all the nights he lay awake replaying his old skating clips in the glow of his phone screen. The way he cheered for Sunghee during competitions, like his voice alone could ignite the passion she didn’t have. The muffled sniffles from the shower after the last Winter Olympics ended. You saw it all. You always did.
Sunghoon is silent, and you fight the sting in your eyes.
“I never asked you to marry me,” you say as low as a whisper, cutting through the silence.
“But I did,” Sunghoon says quickly. Desperately. “And I wanted to.”
You draw out a laugh, bitterness dripping through.
“I'm so sorry, Sunghoon,” you say, sarcasm spilling over your lips. “I'm sorry this isn't the life you wanted. But newsflash: you're not the only one living with regrets. ”
He steps forward, but you move back. The weight of everything presses against your chest now that the words are out. Now that it’s not just his pain taking up space in your relationship.
“You act like you’re the only one who lost something,” you say, softer now. “But I gave up things, too. I had dreams too.”
You don’t mean it cruelly, and he doesn’t take it that way. But it hurts, still.
"And I'm done walking on eggshells around you just because you can't stand the fact that you aren't living the life you wanted.”
You take a deep breath and continue.
“If I knew this was how we'd end up, we should have never even met-"
His hand hovers over your cheek. His lips, so dangerously close to yours. “Stop it.”
His voice is shaky.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
You don't pull away, but your gaze does not waver. “I mean it. Genuinely.”
You don’t see Sunghoon’s heart break at that moment. But he feels it. Feels the tightness in his chest, the way his throat closes up, like your words were enough to kill him.
“When did you become so cruel?” Hurt laced his voice.
“And when did you start resenting me?” you bite back, but the words barely escape your throat.
He doesn’t answer, just leans in and kisses you. And you let him.
Because maybe this is the last time you’ll feel him like this. Maybe this is the last tender moment you two will share.
His hand lingers at your jaw, thumb brushing gently over your cheek. You feel your own breath catch, and for a second, you almost melt into him.
“I love you,” Sunghoon says, but it sparks nothing in you.
Instead, you hear everything he didn’t say. He didn’t say no or that you were wrong. So maybe he really does, you thought to yourself.
His kisses almost make you forget. Almost enough to blur out the long winters and how distant he gets. How painfully silent he is at the dinner table, eyes always somewhere else.
His lips guide you through it all, each kiss igniting a memory.
How his shoulders sagged the day he started that full-time job. How his smile, once so quick to bring out of him, turned into something you had to search for. How the light in his eyes, so blinding when he was on the ice, dimmed, little by little.
His hands trail under your shirt now as he peppers kisses down your throat.
“I miss you,” he sighs.
How he’ll wake up in the middle of the night and leave without a word, how you’ll see his location is at the ice rink, probably watching the Zamboni circle around. But he'd never bring his skates with him.
His lips meet yours again, deeper this time. His knee finds its way in between your legs.
You couldn’t do this anymore. It’s been far too many times, letting him wiggle his way back into your good graces. This was it. You would choose yourself this time.
Your fingers close around his wrists, gentle but firm. The warmth of his skin against yours nearly breaks your resolve, but you force yourself to meet his eyes. Even though it hurts.
“I think you should leave.”
You release yourself from his hold. Sunghoon's expression is unreadable, but you know by now it's a facade.
You could not carry his pain with you any longer. You needed him to let you go, just as much as you needed to let him go.
“Baby...” he starts, voice fragile.
“Don't,” you say quickly, lips pressed tight. “You can't call me that anymore, Sunghoon.”
His heart aches. He was supposed to be Hoon to you. Your Hoon. When did that change?
But he doesn't ask. He just watches you, eyes dark and full of all the things he never figured out how to say until it was already too late.
“The papers...” you pause, swallowing hard. You see a flicker of panic flash across his face.
“They're on the kitchen counter. Take them before you leave.”
Sunghoon did not take the papers.
In fact, just like Sunghee suggested, he went to the so-called “stupid” ice rink by himself.
He sits in the highest row of the stands, arms crossed, jaw clenched. The kids glide around the ice below. Parents he used to talk to are filming on the sidelines, their laughter echoing faintly off the cold, hard walls.
Envy coats his skin.
Coach Jung is barking commands at the kids. He sneaks glances up at Sunghoon every so often, trying to be subtle. But he knows what that look means. It’s pity.
At one point, Coach Jung had pulled him aside to tell him that Sunghee wasn't built for the sport. Not like Sunghoon was. She was too stiff, too in her own head about spinning in the air. She never cracked a smile when she was on the ice. She always kept her head low and movements small, as if it was still scary for her after years of practicing.
It's not like Sunghoon didn't notice, but he always thought she’d come around to it. He was pushed into figure skating by his parents, much like he was doing for her. It wasn’t like his passions ignited overnight. ‘It could be her dream if she let it be,’ he thought to himself.
Why couldn’t she let it? Why wouldn’t she even try?
Sunghoon sits in the stands, even after the kids pour out one by one and the lights start to dim. Coach Jung offers one last, forced smile before disappearing into the locker rooms. Sunghoon stays until he’s the only one left under the lights.
The Zamboni comes in, shaving and washing the ice to be used for the next day. When the machine finishes, the driver climbs out and heads up toward the stands. He's in his early twenties with blonde hair and dark eyes. He's moving towards Sunghoon with a smile.
Sunghoon stands up, a little intimidated by the younger man. His back turns to go up the stairs and to the exit, wanting to avoid a conversation.
“You're always here at night, sir,” the guy calls out. “Do you have a special connection to this place?”
Sunghoon stops in his tracks. He used to get recognized all the time. On the streets and in this very place. He used to mean something.
He turns around and gives a polite smile to the young man. He points at one of the many banners that hang from the ice rink walls. “Park Sunghoon” was in bright gold colors on each one.
“I used to train here,” he says, with a hint of pride. “National champion for ten straight years, from when I was 11 up until I was 21.”
The guy whistles softly, impressed.
“We could use you, you know?" he says. "I think they’re looking for a new coach. Heard the old one's retiring soon.”
Sunghoon flinches. “Coach Jung? He hasn't told me yet. My daughter trains with him.”
He can't bring himself to use the past tense with her just yet.
The young man just nods. "I think he's planning to announce it after the next competition."
Sunghoon feels his chest constrict. He shakes his head. Another person leaving.
“I guess everything’s changing…” he whispers, but it did not fall on deaf ears. The stranger moves closer to him. "We're all so old now."
The stranger sighs. “Youth can be so cruel, can't it?”
Sunghoon, in his confusion, scoffs.
“The opposite, actually,” he argues. “Life's easier when you're young. Anything was possible back then.”
He takes a second to continue.
“And it all can be taken from you,” he mutters, more to himself. “Before you even realize it.”
“That's the worst, isn't it?” The young man chimes in. He's sitting where Sunghoon was earlier. “When you wonder what could've been…”
Sunghoon’s mouth twists into something like a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“That's all I think about,” he said, surprised at himself for opening up to a stranger. And it's true.
What if he hadn’t stopped skating? What if you hadn’t gotten pregnant?
He sits back down, next to the Zamboni driver.
“We all have regrets,” the young man says, looking ahead, voice soft.
Sunghoon stares up at the ceiling and lets out a breathless laugh through the silence. Flashes of you overcame his vision. Nights of hushed arguments and facing away from each other on the bed. Nothing went his way after the World Championships. He lost it all. His passion. His dreams. You.
“Why does it have to be that way?” he asks no one in particular.
A silence fills the room. The blonde turns his head to face him. “Maybe you could live a life without one, Park Sunghoon.”
He stills for a second.
“How did you know my na-” And as Sunghoon turns to face the stranger, he is met with nothing. Like the man was never there in the first place.
He's driving in that ugly, neon green Kia Soul, making his way back to Sunoo's egregiously large mansion.
Sunghoon's grip on the steering wheel tightens every time he checks the rearview mirror. He can’t shake the feeling like he’s being watched. That guy… the way he talked, like he knew him. Not just his name, but everything underneath.
But screw that guy and whatever cryptic bullshit he was spouting. Screw his perfect friends, rich and successful. Every time they reunite, it’s like a reminder of everything Sunghoon’s not.
And screw the way Sunghee and Sungjae don’t even look at him like he matters. He tries. God knows he does. But they don’t know him. Don't know who either of you were outside of being their parents.
And you know what? Screw you and those damn papers too-
SCRREEEEE.
In an instant, his world is spinning out of control. Airbags deploy as Sunghoon jostles in a car that tumbles with him. The last thing he remembers is flashing lights and the loud sound of a crash. A sharp pain shoots through the left side of his body, and he feels as if he is coming in and out of consciousness.
Sunghoon's eyes blink open, but he's not lying where he thinks he should be. It’s not the inside of a casket, nor is it a hospital room ceiling. He lies there with a cold and familiar feeling.
Ice.
Instead of the wrinkled suit he threw on that morning, he’s wearing sweatpants and a fitted black top. Not a scratch on him. No blood, no bruises.
Was he dead?
“Is just one axel hard for you now, kid?” a voice calls out.
He recognizes it almost immediately. Coach Jung. Sunghoon sits up, yanking his gloved hands from the coldness. What the fuck was happening?
“Get your ass back up and do it again,” Coach Jung shouts from the sidelines. The music starts again. Sunghoon’s eyes flutter shut, and he swears it's muscle memory. He knows this routine. The one from that night. The night he met you.
He moves. Instinct takes over. Jumps, spins, the sharp sound of his blades cutting clean into the ice. Every turn and landing exactly where it should be. He’s smiling from ear to ear now, almost childlike.
And if he were dead and this was the last thing he'd ever experience, then maybe dying wasn't so bad. He’d stayed off the ice for years, terrified that if he felt this weightless feeling again, that his regrets would consume him.
“Perform like that and you'll win no matter what,” Coach Jung calls out as the music fades. Even breathless, Sunghoon felt like he could do ten more spins across the ice. His heart was racing. Everything felt so real. The soreness of his muscles, the cold air against his skin, the echoes of Coach's voice.
“What day is it today?” Sunghoon asks abruptly. "And what year?"
He’s pinching his wrist now, nails digging in and almost drawing blood. He flinched. It hurt like hell. Was this not a dream?
“Kid, did you hit your head when you fell?” Coach Jung laughs.
And when he says the exact date, Sunghoon's confused. It wasn’t like today was anything special. Just a random Tuesday. So why would this moment, 16 years ago, be where he ended up after crashing his car?
Looking at the reflection of his younger, more athletic self in the mirror, he just couldn't believe it. No matter how much he slapped his face or banged his head against the locker room door, he was still here. In this younger body.
He's walking home from practice now. His phone buzzes in his pocket of the boys’ group chat, the old one they used to fill with dumb inside jokes before you and the other significant others joined the group. But your name is yet to be in his contacts.
And then he remembers. It’s three days before you’re in the stands of the smaller national competition he won many years ago.
He’s not one to panic, but his thoughts are running in circles. Did he actually go back in time, or is this all in his head?
He sees someone in his periphery. A man around his age, standing near the curb, waving. Casual. Like they’ve met before. And they have.
The Zamboni driver.
He has a sinister smile, one that sends shivers down Sunghoon’s spine. Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate. He marches forward and grabs him by the collar. “Who the fuck are you? Is this happening because of you?”
The man smirks, clearly amused.
“You wanted to try, right? A life without regrets?”
Sunghoon glares at him, confused. “What?”
“Park Sunghoon,” the blonde says sternly. “This is your last chance. Use it wisely.”
Before he can respond, the man shoves him back.
“What are you talk-”
And as he blinks, the stranger disappears. His head starts throbbing uncontrollably, and ringing sets in his ears. He hears a voice then, yet he can’t recognize it.
“What will you choose in this life?”
Even as the reality of everything he left behind starts to settle, he feels a strange sense of calm wash over his grief.
He knows what to do.
three days later.
Sunghoon sees you in the corner of his eye as he’s tightening his skates. You’re sitting with your friends, ones who had encouraged you to come and watch him. Back then, he was all anyone on campus could talk about. The quiet freshman with Olympic dreams who just missed his opportunity last year. He was skating harder than ever, pushing himself to the edge. Skipping classes. Shutting out everything but the rink.
Until you came along.
He remembers your first date. He'd asked awkwardly, “How come you like me?” because he genuinely didn’t understand.
It’s not like the plushie you threw was the first with a phone number taped to it. Not even the tenth. He got plenty of confessions growing up, but he wanted to know why. What made anyone interested in an introverted and one-track-minded guy like him? He had no hobbies outside of figure skating, no real conversation skills that went past awkward greetings.
Yet, you teased him with that Cheshire grin of yours.
“How could I not?" you say so casually as his heart bloomed. "I’ve never seen someone pour so much love into what they do until I met you. You know what you want. I admire that.”
Your words stuck with him. He’d never forgotten it. And even now, those words echo in his chest as he skates to the center of the ice.
The music starts, and he lets himself get lost in the rhythm. As he glides across the ice, there is nothing on his mind. He just takes it all in. The roar of the audience. The sound of skates hitting ice. It’s all he ever wanted.
The routine, like in the past, was met with a standing ovation. The screams of those in the stands overwhelm him. He goes to each section of the rink, bowing as tears threaten to spill over. It’s all too much. And not enough.
Then, he reaches yours. Sunghoon finds you in the sea of people like he did before. Your hair is down, and your face is softer. He chokes back on his tears, so enthralled by your beauty. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.
He bows, more deeply than to the other sections.
You throw that stuffed penguin through the air at the perfect time as it lands by his feet. And as Sunghoon rises from the bow, your eyes are on him again. Expectant.
You don’t know him yet. Not really. You aren't aware of the pain to come. The fights. The distance. The way he’ll drain all the color from your life.
As he turns to move to the final section, he catches a flicker of sadness in your eyes. A frown is present on your beautiful face. He wants to make it go away, but he can’t. Not in this life.
And so the penguin sits on the ice, lifeless, as he skates off the rink.
That night, he skips the afterparty. He goes straight to his shitty studio apartment, the one with the thin walls and peeling paint, and collapses on the bed.
He buries his face into the sheets, the fabric dampening his sobs. The crowd’s cheers still ring faintly in his ears, but now it all sounds hollow. He screams then, into the mattress, at the thought of Sunghee and Sungjae. His babies. The only pieces outside of you in his old life that made it worth fighting for. Would they ever exist in this version of his life?
He tries to steady himself. Tells himself this was for the best. That your life would be easier without him as your words echoed in his head.
"If I knew this was how we'd end up, we should have never even met."
No years wasted, no sacrifices stacked on top of each other until they became resentment. No nights spent worried about bills or appeasing your parents, who never really quite liked him.
He wants to believe he’s doing you a favor.
But the tears don’t stop. Not when he thinks about the weight of Sunghee in his arms the first time he held her. Not when he remembers teaching Sungjae how to read with his tiny hands clutching the book, his eyes lighting up at each new word.
He’s letting it all go. All of it.
This was supposed to be his second chance. To live his dream without regrets. To see what it felt like.
And it felt like hell.
The next few nights were abysmal. Practice became unbearable. He wasn’t eating. He wasn’t sleeping. His body hit the ice harder whenever he missed a spin, which was every time at this point. Coach Jung eventually pulled him aside, clearly frustrated.
“Go home, Sunghoon. Straighten yourself out and get the hell off my ice.”
But home didn’t feel real. None of this did.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t keep skating like this, not when every turn reminded him of you.
Sunghoon had to see you. Just once. Just enough to know you were okay. He told himself the kids would still exist somehow, even if your love story started differently in this version of life. That thought was the only thing holding him together.
He freshens himself up to go to campus, not having touched his backpack in weeks. He remembers your route like the back of his hand. Morning coffee at the cafe just off campus, right before your 9 AM. He will intercept you here, at this corner of the street.
Sunghoon's in a black turtleneck, wearing the glasses you would always steal off of him. The one that made you squirm under his intense gaze. The air was chilled, and his hands were buried deep in his navy jeans. He sees you coming into view, and he almost extends a hand to wave.
But he sees him, too.
Beomgyu. Your ex. The one who would ask your friends how you were doing, knowing full well that you were married with kids. The one who eventually became a guitarist for a band he would pretend not to like. Sunghoon had asked you to block him from everything before, and you complied. It hurt to admit that his insecurities were still present even now, in another life.
Sunghoon hides behind a tree as he watches you two struggle through the cold. Your shoulders are close but not quite touching. He feels his heart rate accelerate, his lips pursed to prevent himself from saying anything that would compromise his hiding spot.
“Beomgyu, you don’t have to walk me to class,” he overheard you say with a laugh. “I’m okay, really.”
Sunghoon’s hands balled into fists. Why did your voice sound an octave higher than it usually does?
Beomgyu had the nerve to laugh, and it took Sunghoon everything in himself not to jump out.
You once told him that Beomgyu was your first love. Your high school boyfriend. You had ended things on good terms at the end of high school to find yourselves in college.
“Good,” Sunghoon once said. “Because you found me.”
And now here you were, looking happy. Grinning from ear to ear. What was there to smile about?
“Doesn’t this remind you of old times? You used to stuff your hands in my pockets-”
And though Sunghoon almost wills himself to leave the spot behind the tree, he doesn’t. Because he needed to watch this. Needed to watch you live the life you would’ve had without him. The easier one.
He sees it now in the way your nose would scrunch to laugh at Beomgyu’s jokes. How you playfully hit the boy’s shoulder and hide your giggles with the sleeve of your puffer jacket.
Maybe that’s why the stranger had chosen this year. To taunt him.
Look how happy someone else could make her. Was he the only reason why you were miserable? How much did he really hold you back?
And so Sunghoon steps aside, shoving his hands back in his jeans. The icy wind cuts through his reddened cheeks. He asked for this. And he’ll have to live with it in this life.
Sunghoon turns around to give you one last look. But he also sees Sunghee, in her Elsa costume for Halloween. Sungjae asking for a mountain of kimchi at every restaurant. Your hand reaching for his across the dinner table.
He’ll have to live with it.
In the next three years, Sunghoon put his all into skating. He is consumed by it. Throws himself into it like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.
His professors have to send him emails to remind him not to neglect his studies. His mother scolds him for missing holidays at home because he travels so much for competitions. But Sunghoon doesn’t care.
He loves figure skating. Loves the endless cheers from the crowd when he lands a clean program. Loves the headlines, the trophies lining his apartment shelves, the constant buzz of being "the nation's pride." It’s everything he knew he wanted.
But, there’s always that one seat in the stands. The one you used to sit in during his competitions, holding up a handmade banner and shouting his name louder than anyone.
Now, the face in that seat changes all the time. Some new fan. Some stranger holding a sign that doesn't mean anything to him.
He tells himself the past doesn’t matter. That this version of you, the one who laughs in cafes with Beomgyu, who’s always posting photos from new cities, new hobbies, new lives, wouldn’t even recognize the girl he remembers.
The girl who used to sit cross-legged on his couch, studying while he iced his ankle. Who wept with joy the night he won first at an international competition.
Now you’re in a photography club. A painting class. Pottery? Really?
You travel more now than you two ever did in your 16 years together. He scrolls past your updates with a numb thumb, telling himself he’s glad. He guesses that he did the right thing.
And every time he walks past you with Beomgyu, smiling with all your teeth, it lingers. Those damn words are repeating in his head again.
"If I knew this was how we'd end up, we should have never even met."
Now he gets it. He guessed that he held you back from so much. Look at you with your wonderful friends and the amazing life you live without him! He scoffs. You deserve it.
You adjusted to him and his demanding training schedule, canceling plans with people so that you could maximize the time you had with him in the rare chance that he was in town. Maybe Beomgyu never would’ve asked you to sacrifice like that. Maybe he would’ve waited for you to come home from your clubs, instead of dragging you to cold rinks and rushed meals together in between practice sessions.
Sunghoon's fine. He swears on it.
Wake up. Go to class (if he feels like it). Skate for hours. Push through the pain. Go home. Cry into his pillow. Rinse and repeat.
The Olympics are a year away. The World Championships are in two months.
And the night you two conceived Sunghee is tomorrow.
tomorrow.
He wills himself to stay home, even when the boys suggest he hit up a few bars and clubs. It's the weekend after all.
But Sunghoon is used to making excuses by now. Blames it on his training schedule, his diet, Coach Jung. Whatever would get Jake off his back.
So when Sunghoon hears a knock at his door, and three boys pull up already reeking of alcohol, he’s surprised that he finds himself in that exact bar where he promised himself he wouldn’t be.
It’s just like before. Same music, same sickening smell of spilled tequila and too much cologne from Heeseung. And, as always, he’s bad at poker. Worse than he remembers. He’s downing a shot after every loss until his head is spinning and he can’t remember the rules anymore.
“I’m gonna… go… pee…” he tries to say, but his words get lost in mumbles and drooping eyes. He miraculously stumbles towards the restroom and does his business in the urinal. He’s dousing his face with water after barely washing his hands, and he smiles at his reflection. God, why didn’t he want to go out again?
Sunghoon exits the restroom, shaking his wrists to expel the water from his hands. And his breath catches. He sees you.
Your back’s to him at first, your sparkly red dress riding up on the stool just like it was that night. You’re laughing at something the bartender says. And he swears for a second, time stops.
Maybe it’s the alcohol. Or maybe it’s the years of missing you bottled up too tight. But he starts walking over before he can stop himself.
“Hey,” he says plainly, elbow hitting the bar. You turn towards him, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
He'll be different in his first impressions this time. More experienced and confident than the shy fool he was when he met you. He'd match this new version of you, too. Show you what you were missing out on.
There’s a confused smile on your face.
“Hi.” He looks at you more clearly, his vision impaired from leaving his glasses at home and the tequila shots in his system.
“You come here often?” He’s too out of his senses to stop himself from saying it. But he doesn’t regret it because you laugh. He does too.
“You say that to every girl, Park Sunghoon?”
His heart skips a beat. “You know my name?”
You roll your eyes, taking a sip of the cocktail that the bartender just handed you.
“Call me a fan,” you smile up at him, and he swears he could have melted right then and there. “Your face is everywhere.”
Sunghoon licks his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.
“I wish I could see more of yours,” he grins. “I think I’d skate ten times better if I saw you in the crowd.”
You scoff jokingly. “And here I thought winning was enough for you.”
It should be. It was supposed to be.
He promised himself he wouldn’t do this. That he’d leave you alone. He would let you go about your life, forget him, and be who you wanted to be. Who you should have been before he came to your life.
But here you are, impossibly close, and every part of him is begging not to let you go.
"You... you single?" he asks, trying to be casual. But his voice catches at the end. He wants to know. Needs to hear from your own lips if you actually chose Beomgyu in this life.
Relief washes over him when you shake your head.
"Wouldn't be talking to you if I was," you say with a teasing grin. Electricity shoots through him as he watches you. Too bright, too much. This short conversation, one he never planned on having, could never satisfy him. He could never get enough of you.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” he asks before he could stop himself, arm outstretched for you to take. Your face stiffens, and he almost thinks you’d say no until your fingers wrap around his arm.
“Where to?”
You barely make it past his front door before he has you up against it. His hands hold yours above your head, pinning your body against his. Sunghoon’s lips move against you ferociously, an unending battle between your tongues. You try to match his movements, but he is starved beyond belief.
You have no idea how badly he missed this.
Three years since he last heard you speak to him. Three years since he’s felt your lips. And the last time was when you asked him to pick up some stupid divorce papers from the kitchen counter. He needs this. Needs this more than breathing, more than eating, more than skating.
Sunghoon lifts you to wrap your legs around his middle. His hands find your bottom, giving a gentle squeeze that has you arching into him. He didn’t want to scare you, but he couldn’t will himself to stop. Your scent was too intoxicating for his mouth to ever leave yours.
You tap at his chest to push him away softly. With bruised lips, you whisper, “Can we go to your bed?”
He could almost moan just from the sound of you. His sweet, beautiful wife. Still so perfect for him.
His grip on your ass tightens as he maneuvers you through the studio apartment you once shared, laying you softly on the bed. Sunghoon wonders why you two just went at it like animals at the entrance way when the bed was only a few steps away back then. This time, he would savor it. Savor you.
He follows you down as he trails kisses on your neck. You crane it for him like you used to, giving him access to your most sensitive spots. His hands trail underneath your dress, teasing the hem of your panties. He looks up at you, silently asking for permission. All you could do was nod, opening your legs wide for him to continue. His dick twitches in his pants. You drive him insane.
Sunghoon peppers a few more kisses on your collarbone as his index finger prods carefully at your clothed pussy.
“Already soaked,” he whispers into your skin, pressing the pads of his fingers onto your underwear. Liquid courage still very much in his system.
He feels bold right now, eager to impress. He doesn't know who you've been with in this life, but he'll make you forget them all. Fuck you so good that you forget those experiences. Remind you that he's your husband for a reason. His fingers hook the side of your ruby red panties, gliding them down your plush thighs.
“I bet I’d go in so easily, huh?” his drunken voice slurs out. "So fucking wet."
When you nod again, he tsks. So silent, and for what? His fingers find your clit, ghosting over it. You arch to lean into his touch, but his hand retracts.
“Use your words, baby,” he says darkly. “Whatever you want, I can give it to you.”
You groan, eyes shut in frustration. “Can’t you just fuck me?”
He laughs. Always so uncharacteristically vulgar when horny. He loves it. He loves you.
“Can’t I get a taste first, baby?” he says, his face already inching downwards. He pulls your dress all the way off you, so that your breasts are finally exposed. Your satin red bra matched your panties like they were made to be seen tonight. He didn’t know why that fired him up so badly.
Would another man have you like this if he didn't make a move?
He dips his head between your thighs, latching his mouth onto your clit. You gasp at the suddenness, not knowing how much you’ve angered him just from your underwear choices. His tongue moves downwards, lapping at your folds like a man dying of thirst. His hands pinned your legs to open even wider, and you writhed underneath him.
“Please-” you beg, hands gripping his hair as his tongue plunges into your wetness. Sunghoon’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation. He could never, ever forget this taste.
He pushes his tongue in and out as deeply as he can with his curled tongue, grinding against the mattress for any semblance of stimulation.
He would make love to you tonight. Until you remember who he was. Until you remember the life you built together.
His tongue does one agonizing lick all the way up to your clit, and your back arches just to feel him better. He’s sucking it harshly, tongue flicking at it in all the right ways.
“Sunghoon-” you cry out, your feet digging into the mattress to push your hips up to meet his ravenous lips. He pulls away and glares up at you. Your hips fall.
“Why’d you stop?” you whine, pushing his hair back down to your core. It takes everything in him not to laugh. He adores you like this. Desperate for him. Needy for him. Shaking in pleasure for whom? Him.
“Don’t call me that,” he whispers into your inner thigh, nipping at it slightly. He chuckles at your confused expression. “Hoon. If you’re gonna moan my name while I fuck you, I need you to say it properly.”
Your cheeks warmed. Heaving out a groan, you nod your head anyway.
“H-hoon,” you test out. “Can you please continue?”
He smiles mischievously. “With what?”
You huff out in frustration. “I swear if you don’t fucking make me cum right now I’m going to-”
And his lips smash down on yours to shut you up. His hands replace his tongue as his middle finger draws figure-8s on your clit. He pulls your slickness from your folds and up to that sweet spot, relishing in the indecent noises between your legs.
Your moans are muffled by his tongue, body twitching underneath his. You taste yourself, so sweet on his lips as he caresses the most inner parts of your mouth. So dirty and so wet. He knew every part of you. Knew what made you cry, knew what made you scream. And fuck, he will make you scream.
He pulls away from you to admire his ruthless pace on your clit.
You are clenching around nothing as your nails dig into his shoulders. He coaxes a gasp out of you as a coil in your stomach starts to form.
“Want me so fucking bad, don't you?” he teases, his other hand on the nape of your neck. Sunghoon tilts your head down to show you the mess you were making.
His sheets are stained with your arousal, and his fingers are drawing circles on your bundle of nerves with such fervor. You catch a glimpse of his painfully clothed member.
He was right. You wanted him so desperately, wanted to feel him inside you at that very moment. Your breath hitches. Fuck. You felt something building.
Your hips start to rise again, and it’s hard to formulate a sentence.
“Hoon! Oh my god– Fuck it’s– It’s–” You cry out as Sunghoon’s pace quickens, motivated by the sound of your moans. His other hand tries to anchor your thighs down. You feel it as you start to lose vision in your eyes. His thumb is rubbing so intensely that it draws a whine right out of you.
The coil inside of you snaps.
“Fuuuck…Ngh…”
A wave of pleasure washes over you, and you feel your juices coat your folds, dripping more than before.
You're squirming underneath him, thighs twitching from the stimulation. He slows his pace, drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible.
His cock was in pain, desperate for it to make contact with any part of you. In this life, one thing he developed over the past three years of watching you in the shadows was patience. And you had none.
“God, just put it in,” you groan so casually, resting your forearm to shield your eyes away from him. You were so fucked out. Hair splayed all over the pillow in messy waves. Lips bruised, your cherry gloss staining your chin and his cheek.
So eager to just have him take you. If he were a weaker man (maybe Beomgyu), he would have listened. But like he said earlier. He would savor this.
His fingers travel down to your folds, one dancing at your entrance to tease you. Sunghoon smirks as you whimper. He pushes a finger in and bites his lip at the feeling. He hasn’t felt you, or anyone for that matter, in ages. In these past three years, he couldn't bring himself to even talk to another woman who wasn't you. It didn't feel right.
All the lonely, and frankly sad, nights touching himself to thoughts of you. Fucking himself on his wrist as he remembers all the nights you’ve shared in your 13 years of marriage. He had plenty of material to work with, with all of your past escapades, but it was nothing like the real thing. Nothing like feeling you again.
“Sunghoon, stop teasing me-”
His finger stilled, and you thought about cursing him out. He pulls your forearm away from your eyes, forcing you to look into his.
“Want to try that again?” he says, threateningly slow. The darkness of his gaze was enough to have you pliant and doe-eyed.
“Hoon?” He smiles, kissing you on the forehead softly.
“Good girl.” And just like that, he dips another finger in, scissoring them into you with precision. You’re a mess underneath him, overstimulated beyond belief, but he honestly couldn’t give less of a fuck. He needed you to be ready for him. His heaviness was throbbing painfully just thinking about how you'd take him after all this time.
How long would it take you to adjust to his size?
Sunghoon’s fingers squelch with each thrust, finding the soft spot he was so familiar with. He’s obsessed, drinking in the sight of your eyelashes fluttering, your hands gripping at his shoulders like your life depended on it. You were so wrapped up in your own pleasure, fucking yourself onto his fingers. Grinding up at him without a care in the world.
“Look at you,” he laughs. “So needy.”
Sunghoon pulls his fingers out of you before he brings them to his lips. He hums, relishing the taste. He’d have to go down on you again later tonight. Taste you after his cock has had its fill.
You watch him in anticipation as he takes his pants off. You follow his lead as you unhook your bra, throwing it across his floor, sighing at the feeling of cool air hitting your nipples. Sunghoon pulls his throbbing member out of his briefs, pumping himself languidly.
Sunghoon's eyes meet yours for a second before they go back to your cunt. He's churning something in his mouth, and you almost ask him what he was doing until he positions his mouth just above your folds.
With sultry eyes directly gazing up at yours, Sunghoon lets his saliva drip down onto your pussy.
You throw your head back on the pillow from the sight. Fuck, that was hot. He moves back up to you, guiding his hand to spread his spit with the tip of his leaking cock.
His dick smears your joined liquid in an up-and-down motion, pushing in ever-so-slightly. You gasp and clutch his chest, nails digging in enough to get his attention. He stops.
“I’m not on birth control,” you mutter, like you’re scared to tell him.
“Should I stop?” he asks, even with his tip pulsing so desperately between your folds. You avoid eye contact, though he doesn’t know why.
“Look at me.” he growls.
Sunghoon tilts your chin to face him, and with glossy eyes, you shake your head. He smiles, and a tinge of sadness hits him. You look so soft underneath him, so fucking beautiful.
He’s spent three years stuck in this version of his life, crying over you to avoid this very moment. But he just wanted you so bad. Wanted to feel you at least once again. Then, he’ll let go, he swears. This will be the first and last.
“Use your w-”
You interrupt him with a kiss, wrapping your legs around him to push him deeper into you. He groans, collapsing onto his elbows. You dig your heels into his back as you pull him in deeper. Sunghoon's lips leave you to lay his forehead against yours. His breathing grows heavy, so lost in how your hole sucks him in.
“So fucking tight,” he groans, testing the waters with a small thrust after bottoming out. You squeak in response. “Fuck, baby.”
He wraps you in a tight hold, propping his knees underneath your thighs into a mating press. He fucks into you at an agonizing pace. It's so slow, you could feel every part of his rigid cock. His large size. His thick veins. The soft pulsing. It's so slow that you almost flip him over to ride him instead. But the desperation in his eyes stops you. His head buries deep in your hair, and you could hear the shakiness of his breath as he pulls out of you and plunges back in.
Sunghoon relishes the way you clench around him, your tight warmth pulling him deeper and deeper with each thrust. He drives himself into you with languid, but strong thrusts. He wants to engrave his place inside you so that you are ruined for anyone who might come after him. And again, he angers himself.
"You only this good for me?" he asks, searching your eyes for reassurance. But you aren't listening. You meet his thrusts, grinding yourself onto him. You want more. More of his touch. More of his length. Just more of him.
“Faster–” you whine, thighs pushing into his sides with each hard thrust. He was reaching the deepest part of you, your cervix kissing his tip ever so deliciously. Sunghoon doesn’t abide, so you take what he gives you.
"You this desperate for everyone, baby?" he whispers into your ear darkly. You shake your head, tears forming in your eyes.
"No..." you muster out. "Just you."
And even through all the tequila and the self-restraint not to jackhammer into you, he believes you.
His hands are on your tits now, catching them as they bounce with the strength of his slow thrusts. He twists a nipple between his fingers, coaxing a moan out of you. He tugs and pulls, and it's enough to have you moaning underneath him.
You feel that familiar fire build inside of you. An ember that burned in your lower stomach and traveled down to the very tip of your toes.
“Hoon! Please- Fuck- I need... I need-”
You couldn’t form full sentences. His thrusts were so harsh and still so painstakingly slow. His eyes never left your face. He basked in the way your brows furrowed for him. How your lips formed silent screams as he hit that certain spot within you. Again and again.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispers hoarsely, his lips so close to yours. “Tell me who you need.”
“You!” you cry out. "Only you!"
He smashes his lips against yours as he finally thrusts into you hard and fast. His hands on your breast travel down to your waist, locking you onto the mattress as he fuck into you.
You feel something pooling, feel the tingling of your toes intensify with his breath against your face. His moans are just as loud as yours, grunting in your hair like a beast.
“You feel so fucking good–” his hips piston forward, brushing against that spot with every movement. Your chest is pressed into his as you claw at his back. The sensation builds and builds as your stomach starts to tighten.
“Hoon- Oh my god- I’m-Angh!”
Your second orgasm rips through you, the tension within snapping like a chord. It's so much stronger than your first one. It hits you in waves as you weep through it, your hips grinding up to meet his unending thrusts. You were so sore, so sensitive, but his pace stayed so relentless.
“Close– So fucking close, baby–” he moans into your hair.
He clutches your hips, driving into you with reckless abandon. Even if you had no idea who he was, he would have your body remember him. Sunghoon, in this life, would be your best one-night stand. He swears on it.
He grunts as he feels you clench around him harder, his hips stuttering against yours.
“I’m gonna–” He tries to pull out, tries to push you away. Tries not to repeat the same mistakes. But your arms pull him downward as legs wrap sternly around his waist. You push him in deeper.
And he comes. Hard.
“Fuck-”
Sunghoon plants an open-mouthed kiss on your lips, drowning out his sweet noises as he feels his raw cock twitch deep inside. His hot cum spills deep inside you with thick spurts. Your lips parted at the warm feeling, and he could tell you enjoyed every bit of milking him dry.
Sunghoon pulls away from you with a soft groan. He watches as his cum spills out of you. He brings his finger to your folds, pushing his fluids into you.
As he meets your eyes, he’s shocked to see how concerned you look. Because unbeknownst to him, there were tears streaking down his face. And before he can fully sober up and stop himself, he says it.
"I love you."
You’re gone before he wakes up.
Sunghoon screams into his pillow, recalling his words like a bad nightmare. Stupid. So stupid. This was supposed to be different. He was supposed to be different.
That stranger, whoever he was, said this was his last chance. And what did he do? He threw away three years of silent pining just to chase you down on the very night the troubles in your relationship had begun.
Was he a fucking idiot?
You never even said goodbye, never even replied to his confession last night. Didn’t even leave a trace of what last night meant to you—if it meant anything at all. He must’ve looked insane.
Sunghoon grips the back of his neck, exhaling hard. You don’t know him. You aren’t the same girl from his past life. You're different now. Three years. That’s how long you’ve had to become someone else.
And him? He hasn’t changed at all. He’s still chasing ghosts. If it wasn't figure skating in his past life, it would be you in this one.
He sighs and sits up. Practice. He should go to practice.
two months later.
“Are you messing around, kid, or do you actually want to win this thing?!” Coach Jung shouts after Sunghoon falls on his ass for the umpteenth time. His palms sting from the fall, but he barely feels it.
The World Championships are in a week, and he hasn’t heard a single peep from you since you left his apartment. Hasn’t seen you on campus in his usual routes to watch you from afar. He knew he had reached a new level of patheticness when he actually went up to Beomgyu to ask how you were.
Turns out, you two weren't even as close as he thought you were. He smiled to himself after that, but frowned when he realized that it truly was as if you had disappeared.
“Sorry,” he huffs, out of breath from the demanding routine. “One more time?”
Coach Jung pinches the bridge of his nose. “How about ten more, you punk? Get your act together.”
Coach mutters something under his breath and storms off, leaving Sunghoon alone with the cold silence of the rink. He tries again. Falls again. He smacks his gloved hand against the ice, hard enough that the sharp sting shoots up his arm. He should’ve known. The moment he got a taste of you, he knew this would happen.
No matter when or how, he would always bother you. He would always lose himself. He would always manage to ruin everything.
“Are you living the life you wanted, Park Sunghoon?” a voice echoes behind him. He spins on his skates.
There he is again. The blonde prick. Somehow, he’s in his sneakers and standing still on the ice. His hands are smug in his coat pockets.
Sunghoon doesn’t take the time to question it until he’s skating at breakneck speed towards him.
He swings at him, but the stranger disappears into smoke.
“Or do you still have regrets?” the voice is behind him again. Sunghoon turns around to the stranger, giving him that annoying, shiteating grin.
“I want out,” Sunghoon says with a strained jaw. “Bring me back. To Sunghee. To Sungjae. To her. Now.”
The blonde laughs. “You haven’t even done what you set out to do yet. Wasn't this what you wanted?”
Sunghoon lets out a bitter sigh, chest tight.
“I get it, okay?" he says with wavering breaths. "I was selfish. I asked for too much. I get it now. So just... please. Please, send me back.”
The boy steps forward. His sneakers make no sound on the ice. Inches away from Sunghoon now, just a little taller than him.
“You don’t always get what you want in life,” the stranger says with that sick, twisted grin. It sends a rush of dread through Sunghoon's body.
“I thought you would have learned that by now.”
the world championships.
He’s in the locker room. His left leg is bouncing up and down, nail splitting as he gnaws at it incessantly. Only ten contestants ahead of him, but he has the time to panic. Just like he did before.
Coach Jung pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t think too much. You're gonna psych yourself out.”
Sunghoon shakes his head, unlocking his phone to check the time. The lockscreen, snow falling past a dark streetlight, holds his gaze longer than it should. He sighs.
“I'm not nervous,” Sunghoon replies, unconvincingly. “It's just cold.”
Coach Jung rolls his eyes.
“You're not new to this, kid,” he doubts the young man. “You're gonna do great out there. This is what you've been dreaming of. Just don't mess it up.”
And when Coach Jung shuts the door behind him, Sunghoon puts his hands to his face. And instead of self-affirmations, he is trembling. Barely breathing, he replays the memory again. Of him spinning you in his arms. Of your kind smile.
Sunghoon told himself not to expect you. In this lifetime, you'd only met once. Only fucked once. But he still thought... maybe the universe would be kind. Maybe you’d show up like you did back then.
“Can the remaining five acts please be on stand-by?” the overhead speaker blares into the locker room. That's him. He's one of the last five.
There’s no one to hold him back this time. No distractions. Just an aching in his chest.
Sunghoon's by the stands now. He watches with shaky hands as the crowd ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ at his competitors’ routines. He hates watching before his turn.
His eyes naturally fall on a seat in the stands. He blinks, rubbing his eyes to check if he was hallucinating.
Someone sits there. Not a stranger. Not this time. It's you. Your brows furrowed like you were forcing yourself not to enjoy his competitor’s performance. Wearing the same outfit. He huffs a laugh under his breath. What are you doing here?
As the routines passed one by one, he could not take his eyes off you. Even from afar, your eyes glisten so beautifully. The same eyes that once glowed, helping the kids with homework. The same eyes that looked at him across the table after long days and short tempers. His wife. The mother of his children. The version of life he gave up for this one.
Now, he would have to settle for this. Longing stares and a heartbeat he could hear in his ears.
“Next to skate, representing the People's Republic of Korea. Sunghoon Park!”
He steps onto the ice with a big smile on his face. He forces it out, forces himself to act fine when you cheer at the sound of his name. He takes his pose at the center of the ice.
The music begins. His edges wobble, nerves bleeding into the blade. He practiced day and night, no distractions. Not even you. So why… Why was this happening?
He takes in a deep breath as he prepares himself for the first spin. He’s skating backwards, building up momentum. He pushes off the ice. Toe pick hits.
Sunghoon rose high. He spots himself. One. Two. Three. Almost four– but his shoulders tilt, the axis too loose. The rotation slows. A half-second of weightlessness gives way to gravity, and he’s tumbling onto the ice hard.
Gasps echo through the arena, and then applause as he brushes himself back up and onto his skates again.
He gets up. He keeps going. Muscle memory takes over. The rest of the routine is clean. Almost perfect, but not enough.
The first quad... He fucked it up. He bows, head down, as if apologizing for even trying.
And when the score is announced while he's sitting on the sidelines, his body is limp. He barely reacts, face blank with emotion.
He could blame you for it. Pretend you were the reason why his routine didn't score high. But the truth is, he stopped believing in excuses a long time ago.
Years of hating himself led here. All this time, resenting the path he took, only to fuck this one up, too.
Sunghoon had to laugh. He deserves it. Of course he did. The low score. You leaving him. The heartache.
Everything he thought he was capable of, everything he pushed aside to have this moment. None of it mattered without you.
As he rises from his seat on the floor, he searches for you in the endless crowd of faces. The other competitors pass by him with pity; he sees it in everyone’s faces. But they don't matter.
Because you're gone. Your seat is empty.
"Kid-"
He pushes past Coach Jung without looking back. There's nothing left to say.
Sunghoon pulls his skates off skillfully, breaking into a sprint towards the exit. He runs with only socks separating him from the floor.
Then he sees you, clutching your stomach and moving toward the exit. His breath catches. Somehow, he knows. He's seen it all play out before.
“[Y/N], wait!”
You stop in your tracks, hands trembling. You turn around, and he is already clutching your face, kissing you so deeply. You would have every right to push him away, to call him a creep and spit every insult at him. But you don’t, and he doesn’t understand why.
Instead, you lean into his touch, fingers fisting the thin fabric of his blouse. He’s the first to pull away, forehead resting against yours.
“Why are you here?” he asks. It’s not the only question he has, but it’s the first that comes out. You’re crying now, eyes wide, mouth parted. But why?
“I was just…” You try, but you fail to find the right words. “I just came to support you?”
Sunghoon shakes his head. He doesn't buy it. Not for a second. Your voice faltered. He knew better now not to let things linger.
“You came to tell me something,” he says knowingly, replaying the scene of the past in his head as it happens right in front of him. He smiles sadly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “What is it?”
You flinch.
“I can’t,” you whisper, the first barrage of tears falling down your face. “It'll ruin you.”
He laughs then. Quiet. Tired. Even in this life, you were so selfless. He doesn’t deserve you. Never did.
“You always say that. Even now.”
He takes your hands into his.
“Are you pregnant?” he asks, taking the words right out of your lips. Your mouth opens in shock.
“How did you-?”
“We'll figure it out,” Sunghoon interrupts softly. He was smiling now. Sunghee was here. She was growing inside you. “Together.”
For a moment, something shifts. You search his face like you’re looking for confirmation. And just like that, you pull away. What? It stings.
This didn't happen before. Why were you-
“You went back," you say. "Didn’t you?” Your voice sounds foreign now, laced with hurt. It’s his turn to look confused.
“What do you mean?” he asks, hands reaching for yours again. You avoid them, and he feels a sharp pain in his chest. “What are you talking about?”
“You… You went back in time like I did, right?” Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “That’s how you knew.”
He freezes.
It clicks. Like cold water hitting his skin. He remembers the first time he saw you in this life. How carefully he avoided you. How he left the penguin plushie behind, just like before. How badly you’d looked at him after that. It all makes sense now.
“I didn’t want to avoid you,” he musters. “I had every intention of finding you again. I passed by that damn cafe every day just to see you-”
You shake your head, but he keeps going, vomiting out word after word.
“I even tried to talk to you, but you looked so happy. All I could think about was the last time we spoke. How you said you regretted us. Watching you with Beomgyu, or whatever his name is-"
“Sunghoon-”
“I was fucking miserable-” His voice cracks.
“Sunghoon-” You’ve never heard him talk this much. Never seen him look so broken.
“And I couldn’t even fight the guy who dragged me into this mess. I was stuck. Thinking about you. About us. About Sunghee. Sungjae. God, I missed you all so fucking much it hurt to breathe—”
“Sunghoon, please—”
“And I should’ve just caught that stupid penguin. I should've just relived our memories together. I should’ve been a better man, a better husband, a better father. But I just keep fucking it up. Every single time, even now-”
“Hoon!” you shout, grabbing his face with your hands. His words die off. He finally breathes. You don’t look angry, not at him at least.
“I know,” you say quietly. “Because I didn’t put my number on the penguin.”
His mouth parts slightly. "Wha-"
"I thought I was the one who messed it all up," you confess. “When you didn’t pick up the plush, I thought it was because of me. Because I tried to change things.”
You swallow back your tears as he listens to you intently, your hands sliding to his chest.
“I thought you’d be better off without me, too.”
You let out a bitter laugh.
“I tried to fill the space,” you continue. “Tried to pick up things I couldn't before. But all I think about was Sunghee and Sungjae."
Your eyes waver, lips pressed together tightly.
"And you," you breathe out. "I saw you skating, training so hard, and you looked happy. I couldn’t bring myself to take it away from you again.”
You pause, lips trembling.
“So I made a plan. I thought—if I could just get Sunghee back, maybe one day I’d find you again for Sungjae.”
You both let out a shaky laugh.
"So then I went to the bar," you sigh. "I wore that red dress and I just hoped you would find your way to me again-”
“Of course I would,” Sunghoon interrupts, kissing your temple. “I always do.”
“And it worked.” You look at the ground like you're ashamed. “The test was positive. I wasn’t planning on telling you.”
Sunghoon takes your hands, forcing you to look at him. His eyes assure you.
“And then you fell during your routine,” you whisper, a sad laugh slipping out. "I thought… I avoided you all this time for nothing.”
He laughs too. “I wasn’t even going to win anyway.”
Sunghoon pulls you back into a hug, stroking your hair ever-so-softly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For making you ever feel like I regretted choosing you.”
And you didn’t know you needed to hear those exact words until you sob into his chest.
Sunghoon soothes you. He’s had enough crying. All he is now is grateful. The pain, the mourning. It all led him here.
“This time we’ll do it right,” he assures you. “I love you. I’m not letting you do this alone.”
You pull away from him, eyes wet but smiling.
“I love you too.”
And you tilt your head as he reaches down to kiss you. With your eyes both closed, the world around you spins. Just you and him. In each other’s arms. His lips are soft against yours.
And a voice unfamiliar to both of you echoes in the air.
“I hope you can live a life without regrets.”
Sunghoon’s eyes open groggily, pain shooting through his spine almost immediately. All he sees are sterile hospital walls and Jay and Sunoo’s concerned faces.
They hover over the foot of his bed, their faces a mix of worry and irritation.
He blinks, scanning the room. Wires. A blood pressure cuff. An IV drip. Another bed. Then your eyes flutter open too.
“You know, with how the divorce is going, we thought you two crashed into each other on purpose,” Sunoo chirps, unempathetic to the dazed state of his friends. Jay smacks him on the shoulder.
“You’re lucky I managed to get you both a private room,” Jay mutters. “The nurses kept whispering about you two in the ICU.”
Sunghoon turns his head slowly, wincing. You’re awake now, alert, your expression matching his. His chest tightens. And almost in a panicked daze, his head snaps back to his friends.
“Sunghee and Sungjae–” he strains out, pain shooting through his lungs. “Where are they?”
Jay furrows his brows.
“They weren’t in the car with [Y/N], if that’s what you’re worried about,” he starts. “They’re looking for a vending machine with Heeseung and Jungwon-”
You both let out a shaky breath. For a second, relief replaces pain. Your eyes meet his for just a second before the door bursts open.
“Mom! Dad!” Sunghee's voice cries out. She’s running towards you two now, but Heeseung stops them.
“Whoa there, princess. They’re fragile.”
Her eyes are red, as if she had just finished crying. Sungjae's behind Heeseung, tugging at his jacket, worry etched across his little face.
“You didn’t do it on purpose, did you?” Sunghee blurts in your direction. Sunghoon has to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle a laugh. “They don’t have it on camera, but they said your car hit Daddy’s!”
He feels something warm bloom in his chest. It’s been a while since Sunghee sounded so protective of him.
You shake your head frantically. “No, darling. My brakes stopped working! I could never hurt your dad. He and I love each other very much-”
You stop yourself, but it's too late—cheeks already warming at the shifting gazes of the four grown men in the room. Jungwon fakes a cough.
“Love? As in, present tense?” he teases.
Sunghoon has the biggest grin on his face, and Sunoo scoffs as his eyes pivot between the two of you.
“Did you both hit your head in the accident?”
Heeseung clears his throat. “So, why don’t we take the kiddos to dinner, hm? Looks like Mom and Dad have some catching up to do.”
Sungjae nods excitedly. “Please! They're so icky.”
The adults usher the kids out, and Jay gives one last wink to the two of you before the doors close. The room falls quiet except for the not-so-steady beeping of the monitors. Sunghoon is the first to speak.
“So... when do you want me to pick up the papers again?”
You laugh softly.
“Oh! I guess if you want to go through with it…”
“No!” Sunghoon shouts, eyes huge. 'He’s so cute when he doesn’t mean to be,' you think to yourself.
You tilt your head, smiling. “Then don’t even think about getting them.”
Your bed is near enough for you to inch your hand towards his forearm. Your touch is featherlight against his skin. It takes all of his strength to intertwine your fingers with his.
“So what does this mean for us?” you say through bated breath. He ponders for a second.
“It means… maybe I can build you an art studio in our garage?” he says cautiously. “And maybe I quit my job? Become a figure skating coach? How does that sound?”
You let out a stronger laugh this time, one that aches in your ribs but still feels good. And in this version of you, older and wiser. He still thinks you’re so beautiful.
“I don’t resent you,” he whispers. And your heart skips a beat, in a way that it hadn’t in a long time. You smile at him. And finally, you find the courage to say it in this life too.
“I love you.”
He brings your fingers to his lips and plants gentle kisses on your knuckles.
In every lifetime, Sunghoon knows. He could be standing on the Olympic stage, the roar of thousands echoing in his ears. He could have everything he ever thought he wanted. But none of it would matter. Not if you weren’t there.
“I love you too," he replies, quietly.
And in every lifetime, he will always find his way back to you. And he will choose you. Over and over again.
epilogue.
Sungjae is on the garage floor, legs crisscrossed as he watches something on his iPad. Sunghoon is installing shelves for your future artist corner while Sungjae's video is strangely on mute.
“What you watching, son?” he asks, trying to distract himself from the tight pull in his lower back.
Sungjae doesn’t look up. “Your skating videos.”
Sunghoon nearly drops the shelf on his eye. “W-what?”
Sungjae shrugs.
“Looks interesting,” he mutters. “Wish I could fly like that.”
Sunghoon sets the shelf down carefully, then crosses the room to crouch beside Sungjaee. On the screen, a much younger version of himself soars across the ice. He remembers that routine. His first national win.
“Didn't think you'd be into it,” he ruffles his son’s hair.
Sungjae shrugs again, but pink tinges his cheeks.
“You never asked.”
The words hit him. He never really did. Not even with Sunghee.
“Do you want to try?” Sunghoon asks slowly. “Figure skating?”
Sungjae finally looks up, eyes wide. “Can I?”
Sunghoon feels tears well up in his eyes, and he coughs them away. What was up with him and crying these days?
“Of course, son,” he says, pulling him into a gentle side hug. “You'll be my first student.”
SYPNOSIS: sunghoon has spent years wanting chloe from the shadows, soft and invisible, until one reckless night he breaks a cursed charm and wishes for the only thing he’s ever craved that she loves him more than anything in the world. the wish answers instantly. she becomes his, completely, obsessively, dangerously. what begins as the sweetest devotion quickly twists into something darker: sleepless nights, jealous rage, hands that hold too tight, and a love so consuming it starts to destroy him. he asked to be loved without limits… and now he’s trapped inside the nightmare he created.
Inspired by the movie Obsession. This story is based on it, but I changed some things like their backstory and the ending so if you liked the film, you’ll probably enjoy this fanfic too.
⚠ english isn’t my first language, so i use a translator please be kind <3”
GIGI NOTES <3 ! : taglist is open ! ok this is gonna be a long story i never posted the james fanfic because my university friends found my account somehow?? idk but i got so embarrassed sooo i never uploaded it… i already blocked them sorry haha so i think i’ll start uploading them little by little now!! i really like talking and interacting, so feel free to comment whatever you want 🫶 + My account was blocked, I don't know why :(
Some people believe love can save anyone.
This story proves otherwise.
Park Sunghoon has always been in love with Kim Chloe.
The perfect daughter of the Kim family.
The only heiress to an empire built on wealth, power, and secrets.
For generations, the Parks and the Kims have been sworn enemies. Their rivalry isn't fueled by hatred alone, but by ambition. In their world, power is everything, reputation is priceless, and family is only valuable as long as it serves a purpose. The moment someone becomes a burden, they're cast aside even if they're their own child.
Yet there was one question Sunghoon could never answer.
How could someone as kind as Chloe exist in a family so rotten?
Everyone described her the same way.
Gentle.
Graceful.
Compasionate.
Untouched by the cruelty that surrounded her.
He wanted to believe it.
He wanted to believe she was different.
The first time he saw her, something inside him changed. At first, he convinced himself it was admiration. Then he called it love.
As the years passed, he realized it had become something far darker.
He watched her whenever he could.
He memorized her schedule, the places she liked to visit, the way she smiled, even the perfume she wore.
The harder he tried to forget her, the deeper his obsession grew.
He couldn't stand seeing other men around her.
The thought of someone else holding her hand, kissing her, or building a future with her filled him with a rage he couldn't explain.
He didn't want to share her.
He didn't want to compete for her.
He wanted her to belong to him.
Forever.
To Chloe, however, Park Sunghoon was nothing more than the spoiled heir of the rival family. Cold. Proud. Untouchable. The last person she could ever imagine trusting.
The wine glass clinked softly against the table as Sunghoon set it down.
Silence hung heavily over the Park mansion. Across from him, the flames in the fireplace danced against the deep red wine.
"Sunghoon."
His father stepped out of the study, his voice calm and composed.
"It's time you started looking for a wife."
Sunghoon didn't even look at him.
"I'm not interested."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
His father walked closer until he stood directly in front of him.
"The shareholders have already begun asking questions. You need an heir. Someone with the right name, the right family, someone capable of standing beside you when you inherit everything."
Sunghoon took another sip of wine.
"Then make a list. Pick one yourself."
His father let out a quiet sigh.
"It's too late for that."
A long silence settled between them before he finally spoke again.
"The Kims have announced Chloe's engagement."
The world stopped.
The glass froze in Sunghoon's hand.
"...What did you say?"
"She's getting married."
Nothing.
Not a single word.
The silence became so deep that even the crackling fire seemed to disappear.
Jealousy.
No.
It was something much worse.
Something twisted and rotten coiled inside his chest.
No.
Chloe was his.
No one had the right to hold her hand.
No one had the right to kiss her.
No one had the right to wake up beside her.
The mere thought of another man brushing his fingers through her hair made his grip tighten around the glass until it nearly shattered.
He had spent years watching her from a distance.
Protecting her.
Waiting for her.
And now...
She was going to belong to someone else?
A bitter laugh escaped him.
"Impossible..."
His father frowned.
"Did you say something?"
"...Nothing."
But inside his mind, only one thought remained.
If she can't belong to anyone... then she'll belong to me.
Rain had already begun to fall when Sunghoon pulled his car in front of a tiny liquor shop hidden between old brick buildings.
The sign above the entrance was rusted with age.
It didn't look like anyone had stepped inside in years.
The moment he entered, the scent of damp wood, dust, and aged wine surrounded him.
Dim lights barely illuminated the shelves.
Then something caught his eye.
A small white box sat alone on the highest shelf.
A handwritten label was attached to it.
ONE WISH WILLOW
"Make one wish."
Sunghoon let out a quiet laugh.
"Ridiculous."
Even so, he picked it up.
Pure curiosity.
When he reached the counter, the old shopkeeper never looked up.
He scanned the box.
Then smiled.
It wasn't a kind smile.
"Are you certain you want to buy that?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Slowly, the old man raised his eyes.
They were a dull shade of gray.
As though they hadn't seen daylight in decades.
"Because Willow doesn't grant wishes."
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow.
"Then what does it do?"
The old man leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"It simply finds what was already waiting for you."
A chill crawled down Sunghoon's spine.
The old man continued.
"And remember this..."
He paused.
"It doesn't matter what you wish for."
"...Someone else is always listening."
The shop fell completely silent.
Even the rain outside seemed to vanish.
When Sunghoon blinked...
The old man was calmly arranging bottles on a shelf, as if he had never spoken at all.
Midnight.
The Kim estate was completely dark.
Sunghoon knew the property by heart.
He knew exactly which window belonged to Chloe's bedroom.
He knew what time she turned off the lights.
What time she liked to read.
When she opened the curtains every morning.
Even the little habits no one else seemed to notice.
He stood quietly outside the gates.
Then slowly opened the box.
Inside lay nothing but a single dried black willow branch.
Nothing else.
He scoffed.
"What a waste of money..."
Still, he closed his eyes.
"I wish..."
He took a slow breath.
"I wish Chloe would love me more than anyone else in this world."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"I want her..."
"...to be mine."
He opened his eyes.
"...Forever."
Nothing happened.
Only the wind answered him.
He laughed quietly.
"So much for that."
He closed the box.
Then...
He felt it.
Someone standing behind him.
He hadn't heard footsteps.
He hadn't heard the gates open.
Only a presence.
Cold.
Heavy.
Watching.
He slowly turned around.
And forgot how to breathe.
Chloe.
She stood barefoot on the stone pathway.
She wore an ivory silk pajama set that moved gently with the night breeze.
Her dark hair rested over her shoulders.
She didn't seem surprised to find him there.
As though seeing Sunghoon outside her house after midnight was the most natural thing in the world.
A small smile curved across her lips.
"Sunghoon..."
Her voice was soft.
Almost comforting.
"What are you doing here?"
She walked toward him.
There was no fear.
No hesitation.
Only an impossible sense of calm.
She stopped just inches away.
Close enough for him to catch the familiar scent of lavender.
Tilting her head slightly, she reached up and carefully adjusted the collar of his jacket.
"You'll catch a cold."
She spoke as though she'd done this a hundred times before.
Sunghoon couldn't move.
Couldn't even think.
Confusion rooted him to the ground.
When Chloe looked up, something in her eyes felt... wrong.
They were almost empty.
Yet somehow far too focused.
Far too attentive.
"You should've called me."
Her smile widened.
"I would've let you in."
A knot formed in Sunghoon's stomach.
Something wasn't right.
Something was terribly wrong.
Because Kim Chloe—
The same girl who had spent years avoiding him whenever she could—
Was now looking at him as though he were the only person left in the world.
Then, for just a fraction of a second...
The bedroom window behind her reflected the silhouette of a tall figure standing in the darkness.
It had no face.
Only an impossibly wide smile.
When Sunghoon looked again...
It was gone.
But somewhere among the trees, a deep voice whispered through the wind.
"Wish granted."
The weeks passed far too quickly. So quickly that, at times, Sunghoon found himself forgetting what Chloe had been like before that night. Now she was always there. She waited for him outside the company. She texted him at all hours of the day. She slept on the couch in his apartment, insisting she didn't want to return to the Kim estate. She laughed at everything he said. Sometimes she would simply sit across from him, watching him in complete silence for minutes at a time.
It was... perfect.
Or at least, that was what he wanted to believe.
Because there were things that didn't make sense.
Chloe had never been this affectionate. She had never reached for his hand first. She had never smiled at him like that. And yet, every time doubt crept into his mind, all it took was one of her embraces or the warmth of her fingers brushing against his to convince himself of one thing.
Maybe this had always been the real Chloe.
Maybe she had finally stopped hating me.
Until everything fell apart again.
The news flooded every television channel.
"Jake Lee, fiancé of Kim Group heiress Chloe Kim, found dead under mysterious circumstances."
The police refused to reveal most of the details. Only one.
Several fingers were missing from one of his hands.
There was no explanation. No suspects. No security footage. It was as if darkness itself had walked into the house... and disappeared without leaving a single trace.
Sunghoon turned off the television. A chill ran down his spine.
For a brief moment, he remembered the old shopkeeper's warning.
"Someone else is always listening."
He shook his head.
It couldn't be connected.
It was impossible.
When he found Chloe later that afternoon, he expected her to be devastated. After all, she'd just lost her fiancé.
"Chloe..."
She looked up at him.
Her eyes were completely dry.
Not a single tear.
Sunghoon stepped closer, opening his arms.
"I'm so sorry..."
Before he could finish, Chloe gently cupped his face.
Then she kissed him.
It was sudden.
Desperate.
When she finally pulled away, she smiled as though nothing unusual had happened.
"Now he's not in the way anymore."
Sunghoon froze.
"...What?"
She let out a quiet laugh.
"Nothing."
And just like that, she changed the subject as if they'd been talking about the weather.
That night they ordered takeout, watched movies, and laughed until sunrise.
It was absurd.
The entire country was talking about a brutal murder.
And Chloe looked happier than she'd ever been.
Before long, Sunghoon's apartment no longer felt like his.
Her clothes were draped over one of the chairs.
Her perfume lingered on his pillows.
Coffee mugs were scattered across the kitchen.
She wandered through the apartment barefoot as though she had always lived there.
"Aren't you going back home?" he asked one morning.
She simply shook her head.
"My home is wherever you are."
She said it with such a gentle smile that anyone else would've called it romantic.
But there was something about the way she looked at him...
Something unbearably intense.
Like a promise.
Or a curse.
Several weeks later, they attended a charity gala. Soft classical music echoed through the ballroom as politicians, CEOs, and heirs mingled beneath glittering chandeliers.
Sunghoon was talking with Amelie, an old university friend.
"Remember when you almost burned down the chemistry lab?"
Amelie laughed.
"That was your fault!"
"It absolutely wasn't."
"Oh, yes, it was."
The two of them laughed together, completely unaware that Chloe had been watching from the opposite side of the room the entire time.
She hadn't moved.
She simply stood there holding a champagne glass.
Smiling.
An empty smile.
Amelie suddenly sensed someone beside her and turned around.
"Oh... Chloe, right?"
Chloe smiled politely.
"Sunghoon talks about you a lot."
"We've been friends for years."
"How nice."
Silence settled between them.
Then Chloe smiled a little wider.
"But remember one thing."
Amelie frowned.
"What is it?"
"Sunghoon is mine."
She said it with the same calm tone someone might use to compliment the weather.
Amelie let out an awkward laugh.
"I think you've got the wrong ide—"
She never finished.
Without warning, Chloe shoved her hard.
Amelie stumbled backward and slammed face first into the edge of a marble table.
The sound echoed across the ballroom.
A scream followed.
Blood streamed from Amelie's nose as horrified guests rushed toward her.
No one understood what had just happened.
Except Chloe.
She simply stood there.
Watching the blood.
Calmly.
Almost... fascinated.
As though she were admiring a masterpiece.
"Chloe!"
Sunghoon rushed over and grabbed both of her wrists.
"What did you do?"
She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his.
There wasn't an ounce of regret.
Only an eerie calm.
"She was looking at you too much."
"She was just talking to me."
"I know."
"Then why?"
Chloe tilted her head, as if the answer should've been obvious.
"Because I didn't like it."
Silence filled the space between them.
Sunghoon searched her face, desperately trying to find the Chloe he'd known for years.
He couldn't.
Only those impossibly devoted eyes stared back at him.
She stepped closer, not caring that everyone in the ballroom was watching.
"Are you angry with me?"
Sunghoon opened his mouth.
He wanted to say yes.
He wanted to tell her that this wasn't normal.
That something inside her had changed.
But standing this close to her...
Seeing tiny flecks of someone else's blood across her cheek...
He felt that same twisted warmth spreading through his chest.
It wasn't fear.
It was desire.
Part of him knew he should walk away.
The other part...
Had never wanted her more.
Chloe rested her forehead against his.
"Tell me I'm still enough."
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Tell me I'm still the only one."
Sunghoon closed his eyes.
After a long silence, he tightened his grip around her hand.
"...Don't ever do that again."
She smiled.
"So... you're not leaving me?"
His answer came far too slowly.
"...No."
Chloe's smile slowly widened.
Across the ballroom, one of the enormous mirrors reflected the silhouette of a tall, shadow-like figure standing silently among the guests.
No one noticed it.
No one...
Except Chloe.
And she smiled back.
Time slowly lost all meaning. Days turned into weeks, and weeks melted into months until Sunghoon could no longer remember what life had been like before Chloe became the center of it. At some point, he stopped asking himself whether what they had was love or something far more dangerous. He knew it wasn't healthy, but he didn't want it to be. One by one, they cut everyone else out of their lives.
Phone calls went unanswered. Invitations stopped coming. Friends slowly disappeared until their world became nothing more than the two of them. Strangely, neither of them seemed to miss anyone else. They developed little rituals that would have unsettled any ordinary couple. Chloe refused to let him leave the apartment without fixing the collar of his shirt and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his hand. If he came home even five minutes later than usual, she would already be standing behind the front door, waiting.
She never asked where he'd been. Somehow... she always knew. Sunghoon wasn't innocent either. He memorized the sound of Chloe's footsteps from every room in the apartment. He woke several times every night just to make sure she was still sleeping beside him. And whenever she wasn't there, panic gripped his chest until he found her. He always found her. Sometimes standing on the balcony. Sometimes in the kitchen.
Sometimes simply sitting beside the bed, quietly watching him sleep. As disturbing as it should have been... it comforted him. Other couples exchanged flowers. They exchanged silence. Other couples made promises. They shared obsessions. They no longer needed to say "I love you." It was enough to know the other was still there.
Because it wasn't love anymore. It was dependency. Possession. An obsession so consuming that neither of them remembered how to exist without the other. Yet despite everything, Sunghoon couldn't ignore that Chloe was still changing. At first, the differences were almost impossible to notice. She hardly blinked anymore.
Sometimes she would stand in front of the living room window for nearly an hour without moving a single muscle, staring into the darkness outside. "What are you looking at?" Sunghoon asked one evening. She smiled without taking her eyes off the glass.
"They're watching us." He laughed quietly. "Who's watching us?" Several long seconds passed before she finally answered. "Them." Nothing more. As if that single word explained everything. The nights became stranger after that. More than once, Sunghoon woke up to find the bed empty. He searched the apartment in desperation until he found Chloe standing barefoot in front of the front door, perfectly still, as though she were waiting for someone to come inside.
"Chloe..." She never answered. Only when he gently touched her shoulder would she slowly turn her head toward him. Her eyes were open... but for a few terrifying seconds, it was as though she didn't recognize him at all.
The next morning, she always claimed she couldn't remember anything. Sunghoon wanted to believe her. He needed to believe her. But every day it became harder. Even the neighbors began acting differently around her. The elderly woman downstairs, who used to greet Chloe every morning, now crossed the hallway to avoid her.
The doorman never looked her in the eye anymore. One afternoon, Sunghoon overheard two children whispering as Chloe walked past.
"That's the lady who talks to herself."
"No... she's talking to someone who isn't there."
The moment Chloe turned toward them, both children ran away without looking back. She simply smiled.
"Kids are so strange."
Sunghoon forced a smile, but something cold settled deep inside his chest. Something wasn't right. And with every passing day, he became more certain of it. The night that finally convinced him arrived without warning. He came home from work much earlier than usual.
The apartment was silent. Too silent. "Chloe?" No answer. He slowly walked toward the bedroom. The door was half open. There she was, standing in front of the full length mirror.
She wasn't fixing her hair. She wasn't looking at herself. She was staring directly into the reflection, smiling... as though someone were standing on the other side of the glass. Slowly, she tilted her head, listening. Waiting. Then she whispered, "I know..." She paused, as though someone had answered her. Her smile widened.
"Not yet... He's not ready." Sunghoon's heart began pounding against his ribs. There was no one else in the room. Only the two of them. Or at least... that's what he wanted to believe. Because for just a single second, the reflection inside the mirror smiled before Chloe did.
Months passed, and if anyone had been watching them from the outside, they would've said Sunghoon was the dangerous one. He was possessive in ways he no longer tried to hide. He hated when anyone stood too close to Chloe.
He interrupted conversations if someone held her attention for too long. He remembered every name, every face, every person who smiled at her just a little too much. His jealousy had become almost routine, and strangely... Chloe adored every second of it.
Whenever he pulled her closer or coldly dismissed someone who tried to approach her, she would simply smile, as if his obsession was the greatest proof of love she had ever received.
She encouraged it without saying a word, looking at him with quiet satisfaction whenever he chose her over the rest of the world. They became exactly what everyone whispered they were two people hopelessly consumed by one another.
Eventually, the rumors reached the Kim estate.
It wasn't difficult.
People had seen Chloe leaving Sunghoon's apartment.
They had seen them arrive together at events.
They had stopped pretending their relationship was a secret.
When Mr. and Mrs. Kim learned the truth, the mansion erupted into chaos.
"What have you done?" her father roared.
"You've humiliated this family."
"With a Park of all people."
Chloe stood in silence.
Her expression never changed.
Her mother stepped forward first.
The sharp crack echoed through the room.
Then another.
Neither of them cared that she was their daughter.
To the Kim family, reputation had always been worth more than blood.
The punishment didn't end with harsh words.
She was locked inside the estate.
Her phone was taken away.
The doors to her room were locked from the outside.
Every act of defiance was met with another blow, another bruise, another reminder that heirs were not allowed to make their own choices.
But Chloe never cried.
Not once.
She simply smiled.
A smile that only seemed to make her parents angrier.
By the time Sunghoon learned what had happened, something inside him snapped.
His hands trembled as he stared at the photographs someone had secretly sent him.
Dark bruises marked Chloe's arms.
A split lip.
A bandage wrapped around one wrist.
His breathing became uneven.
"No..."
His voice barely escaped above a whisper.
"No one touches her."
He stood so abruptly that the wine glass beside him shattered against the floor.
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered immediately.
There was only silence.
Then Chloe's voice.
Soft.
Almost cheerful.
"They're trying to fix me."
The call cut off.
Sunghoon stared at the dark screen for several long seconds.
Then he slowly picked up his car keys.
His reflection in the apartment window no longer looked like his own.
The shadow behind him smiled.
And for the first time...
Sunghoon didn't look away.
Sunghoon forced the door open.
The hallway of the Kim estate was silent, the kind of silence that felt wrong. He moved fast, almost running, until he reached her room. The lock was broken. He pushed inside.
Chloe was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, back against the bedframe, legs loosely crossed. Her clothes were soaked dark. Bruises bloomed across her arms and collarbone. Dried blood streaked down the side of her face and along her neck. She looked up the second he stepped in, and the smile she gave him was soft. Almost peaceful.
He froze.
“Chloe” His voice cracked. He dropped to his knees in front of her, hands hovering, afraid to touch. “You’re hurt. What… what happened?”
She only laughed. Quiet. Warm.
“We’re free, Sunghoon.” She reached up and cupped his cheek with a blood-stained hand. “We’re free. We can do whatever we want now. This is our house.”
He stared at her, confusion cutting through the panic. “What are you talking about?”
She tilted her head, still smiling, and gently turned his face toward the far side of the room.
The bodies of her parents lay there. Still. Dark. The air smelled metallic.
Sunghoon’s breath left him in a single, sharp exhale.
Chloe’s voice stayed light, almost cheerful, even as it rose into something sharper.
“I did it. I made us free. They’re gone. No one can lock me away again. No one can take me from you.” Her fingers tightened on his jaw. “I did it for us.”
For a long second he couldn’t speak. His pulse hammered in his ears. Then something colder, darker, settled behind his eyes. He looked back at her at the blood, the bruises, the calm way she waited for him and the last clean piece of him cracked.
He leaned in until their foreheads touched.
“Then we’ll finish it together,” he whispered. “So it’s both of us. So no one can ever say it was only you.”
Chloe’s breath hitched. Her eyes lit up like he’d just given her the most romantic promise in the world.
She pulled him down by the collar and kissed him hard, tasting copper and desperation. Sunghoon didn’t pull away. He kissed her deeper, hands finally gripping her waist, smearing the blood between them as he pressed her back against the floor.
The adrenaline, the horror, the twisted relief all of it crashed into want.
He tore at the ruined fabric of her clothes. She helped, laughing against his mouth, pulling at his shirt until it was gone. When he pushed inside her she moaned like it was the first real breath she’d taken in days. Her legs locked around him. Her nails dragged down his back hard enough to leave marks.
“Harder,” she breathed. “Don’t be careful. Not tonight.”
He gave her exactly that deep, rough thrusts that made the wooden floor creak. Every time she gasped his name he drove in deeper, one hand tangled in her bloody hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. She came first, shaking, laughing through it, eyes never leaving his. The sound of her pushed him over the edge right after; he buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside her with a broken groan, forehead pressed to hers.
They stayed like that, breathing the same air, blood and sweat and something far darker binding them together.
Chloe smiled against his lips.
“Ours,” she whispered.
Sunghoon kissed her again, slower this time, and didn’t disagree.
Sunghoon and Chloe stayed in the mansion.
The first days were almost sweet. They closed the curtains, turned off their phones, ignored the world. Chloe walked barefoot through the enormous hallways with a permanent smile, holding his hand as if they were two children who had finally escaped from home. Sunghoon followed her everywhere. Not because she asked him to… but because he no longer knew how to be far from her.
They ate when they remembered. They showered together under the hot water until their fingers wrinkled. They kissed in the kitchen, on the stairs, against the marble walls. Every time Chloe laughed, something inside Sunghoon calmed down. Every time he looked at her for too long, she would come closer and whisper in his ear:
We’re free.
But freedom started to rot quickly.
First came the voices.
Chloe heard them one early morning, sitting on the edge of the bed while Sunghoon slept. They were soft, almost affectionate. They told her that he was hers. That no one else could touch him. That if anyone tried to separate them again, she had to make sure nothing was left. She only smiled in the dark and curled up against his back.
Then the voices reached Sunghoon.
He started hearing them in the bathroom, when he looked at himself in the mirror. A low, familiar voice that reminded him that Chloe loved him too much. That that love was dangerous. That he was too. At first he covered his ears. Then he started answering them in a low voice.
The shadow appeared shortly after.
At first it was only a movement in the corner of his eye. A tall, dark silhouette at the end of the hallway. Then it sat in the dining room chair while they ate in silence. Chloe spoke to it as if it were a guest. Sunghoon pretended not to see it… until one night he found it sitting at the foot of the bed, watching them sleep.
That night he couldn’t close his eyes again.
The days became blurred.
They stopped changing their clothes. They stopped opening the windows. The smell of closed rooms, old food, and dried blood clung to the walls. Chloe laughed at everything. Sometimes she laughed for hours, hugging her knees on the living room floor. Other times she stayed for hours staring at a fixed point, whispering things Sunghoon couldn’t quite understand.
He, on the other hand, became quieter. More tense. Every time he heard a noise outside the mansion, he stood up with his heart racing, ready to protect her… or so that no one would find them.
Sex became their only anchor.
They did it anywhere: on the hallway floor, against the piano, in the bed that still smelled of metal. Chloe needed him desperately, almost violently. She dug her nails in, bit his shoulder, asked him to hurt her a little so she could feel she was still alive. Sunghoon gave her everything. Every thrust was a way to silence the voices. Every moan of hers was proof that they were still together, still real.
One afternoon, while they were lying on the floor of the main living room, the shadow came closer than ever.
Chloe looked at it without fear.
It’s time, right? -she whispered.
Sunghoon felt a coldness in his chest.
Time for what?
She turned toward him. Her eyes were too bright, too empty and full at the same time.
To leave. For real. The shadow has been waiting for us from the beginning. From before I met you. From before you desired me. We are its destiny, Sunghoon. Both of us.
He wanted to deny it. He wanted to get up and drag her out of that house. But when he looked at the shadow that dark figure that was now so close he could almost touch it he felt something inside him surrender.
Because it was right.
Everything had been too perfect. Too dark. Too inevitable.
Over the following days they planned the end with a sickening calm. They didn’t talk about pain. They didn’t talk about fear. They talked about freedom. About how finally no one would be able to separate them. About how death was just another room where they could stay embraced forever.
On the last night they dressed in clean clothes they found in one of the wardrobes. Chloe put on a white dress that was a little too big for her. Sunghoon buttoned up a black shirt. They looked at themselves in the dressing room mirror and, for a second, almost looked normal.
Almost.
They went down to the living room together. They sat in the same place where they had found each other after what happened with their parents. Chloe settled between Sunghoon’s legs, her back against his chest. He wrapped both arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.
The shadow was in front of them. It no longer hid. It was waiting.
Chloe took Sunghoon’s hand and squeezed it tightly.
Are you afraid?
A little - he admitted.
She laughed softly, but the sound trembled.
Me too. But less than before.
She turned enough to kiss him. It was a slow, deep kiss, full of everything they no longer needed to say. When they pulled apart, their foreheads stayed together.
Now we really are completely free —she whispered.
Sunghoon closed his eyes. His breathing became irregular. Fear rose in his throat, not of death, but of losing her. Of being left alone with the voices.
I don’t want to lose you.
You’re not going to lose me she answered, almost angrily. No one can separate us now. Not them. Not the world. Not even death.
The shadow took a step.
The air grew heavy. The voices, which for days had been whispers, became a constant, urgent murmur. Chloe clung tightly to his neck. Sunghoon held her tighter, so tight it almost hurt.
We do it together he said, his voice hoarse . Until the end.
She smiled against his skin.
Until the end.
The shadow enveloped them.
The cold became absolute. The murmur stopped. The living room disappeared.
When morning came, the mansion remained silent.
Only this time the silence was definitive.
They found them days later.
They were embraced in the same place in the living room, dressed in white and black, as if they had prepared for a ceremony. There were no signs of struggle. There was no despair on their faces. Only a strange calm, almost serene. As if they had finally arrived exactly where they had always been meant to be.
The police spoke of a pact. Of two young people who had gotten too lost inside each other. Of a love story that had turned into an illness.
But no one mentioned the shadow.
Because the shadow was never real.
Or at least, not in the way they saw it.
The shadow was the destiny the two of them had been carrying from the beginning. It was the inevitable consequence of the desire Sunghoon asked for that night. It was the price of a love that knew no limits, that did not accept the other’s freedom, that only knew how to consume. It was death disguised as company. Madness disguised as eternity.
It had walked behind them from the moment the desire was fulfilled. It had grown every time Chloe became more possessive. Every time Sunghoon chose to stay. Every time they decided that the whole world could burn as long as they didn’t let go.
And in the end, when there was nothing left to destroy, the shadow simply claimed them.
Not as an external monster.
But as the only truth that had always been inside them.
The shadow was no longer behind.
It was inside.
And for the first time, the two of them smiled at the same time.
bf!martin who never lets you carry everything by yourself. if your hands are full, he’s already reaching over without saying anything, taking the heavier bag and pretending it was no big deal. if you complain, he’ll just smile and tell you he’s stronger anyway, so it makes more sense.
bf!martin who remembers the smallest details from conversations you had weeks ago. you mention wanting to try a certain café, a snack you saw online, or a movie coming out next month and, somehow he brings it up before you even remember saying it. he pays attention because hearing you talk is one of his favorite things.
bf!martin who has a habit of fixing little things for you. your hoodie string disappears into the hood? he pulls it back through. your necklace clasp keeps twisting? be turns it around. your phone battery is almost dead? he already has a charger with him.
bf!martin who makes sure you get home safely every single time. he waits until you text him that you made it inside before anything else. if you forget, your phone lights up with a “you home?” text. he cannot fully relax until he knows you’re home safe.
bf!martin who gets genuinely excited whenever you support something important to him. if you watch something he worked hard on, he’s asking what your favorite part is without anything else. your opinion means a lot to him, and knowing you’re cheering him on gives him the biggest smile ever.
JAMES
bf!james who keeps random little things that remind him of you. it could be a receipt from a place you went together, a photo you took that he really liked, or a tiny note you left behind. he isn’t sentimental in the obvious ways, but he has a tendency of holding onto moments like these because it means a lot to him.
bf!james who always checks if you’re comfortable before making plans. he’ll ask if you’re tired, if you’ve eaten, if you actually want to go out or you’d rather stay in. he wants spending time together to feel easy, not like something you have to force yourself into.
bf!james who sends random things that make him think of you without needing a reason. a random video, a song he found, a picture of something funny he saw while he was out. sometimes the message is only a few words, but it’s his way of saying you crossed his mind.
bf!james who tried to learn the things you care about, even if they aren’t things he doesn’t normally pay attention to. if you’re excited about something, he wants to understand why. he’ll ask questions, remember details, and bring it up later because loves seeing you get passionate about things.
bf!james who is the type to celebrate your small wins seriously. you finished something you were stressed about? he’s proud of you. you did something you were nervous about? he’d tell you that you handled it well. he never makes you feel like your achievements are “too small” to notice.
JUHOON
bf!juhoon who never missed an opportunity to reach for your hand. crossing the street, standing in line, walking through a crowd — it almost comes naturally to him. sometimes he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it until his fingers are already intertwined with yours.
bf!juhoon who finds every excuse to keep you close for another minute. if you’re about to leave, he’ll ask one more question, tell you one more story, or pull you back over because he remembered he “forgot” to tell you something. deep down, he just hates ending your time together.
bf!juhoon who looks at you first whenever something good happens. if he hears exciting news, wins something, or has a funny story to tell, you’re the person he searches for without thinking. sharing every happy moment with oh becomes second nature.
bf!juhoon who adores hearing your voice, even if you’re talking about the most ordinary part of your day. you could ramble about school, something your friend said, or what you had for lunch, and he’s listening with the biggest smile.
bf!juhoon who has this habit of brushing his thumb across your hand whenever you’re together. it’s such a small gesture that most people wouldn’t notice, yet it’s his silent reminder that you’re right there with him.
SEONGHYEON
bf!seonghyeon who falls asleep easier whenever he knows you’re okay. if you text him that you made it home, finished what you needed to do, or finally got into bed after a long day, he feels completely at ease. it’s the last thing he wants to know before ending his own day.
bf!seonghyeon who always notices when you’re staring at something for more than a few seconds. whether it’s a book, a dessert in a bakery window, or something in a shop, he catches it every time. weeks later, it somehow ends up in your hands because he remembered.
bf!seonghyeon who slows his pace to match yours. whether you’re wandering around a bookstore, shopping, or simply taking the long way home, he never rushes ahead. he enjoys the extra time together more than getting anywhere quickly.
bf!seonghyeon who makes space for you without saying a word. if you walk into a room, he’s already shifting over so you can sit beside him, opening the door before you reach it, or moving your chair a little closer. it’s become second nature, and he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it anymore.
bf!seonghyeon who has an amazing memory when it comes to your routines. he knows what time you’re usually finished with school, when you’re probably studying, and when you’re most likely asleep, so he never expects instant replies.
KEONHO
bf!keonho who keeps track of the little things you mention wanting to do together. one day he’ll randomly text, “we still haven’t done that,” because he actually remembers every plan the two of you made, even the ones you brought up months ago.
bf!keonho who lets you borrow his clothes without expecting them back anytime soon. weeks later, he’ll see you wearing one of his hoodies and grin because it somehow looks better on you. if you accidentally keep it forever, he isn’t complaining.
bf!keonho who asks for your opinion on things that actually matter to him. new haircut, clothes, a project he’s working on, even small decisions. he trusts your judgment, so hearing what you think genuinely helps him decide.
bf!keonho who never lets your birthday, anniversaries, or important dates become last-minute plans. he’ll have everything sorted well before you even start wondering if he’s remembered. he’s the type who enjoys planning because he wants the day to feel special from beginning to end.
bf!keonho who naturally includes you in conversations with other people. if someone asks him about his weekend, he’ll mention the museum you went to together or the restaurant you tried.
pensieri this is a lot guys i’m sorry 😭 but updates will be a bit slower since i’m traveling, this is kind of me making up for it 🫰
╰┈➤ older!boyfriend!James x younger!fem!reader ⟡ ݁₊
ˑ synopsis ۫ older boyfriend James who treats you like a princess. Even if it's you throwing a tantrum or you putting hair clips in his hair , he'll let you do it because you're his baby <3
ㅤ𓏵 𓈒 𓈒 contains - hugging , kissing , reader sitting in James lap , age gap (3-4 but imagine it to ur liking !) , mentioned swearing , James is lowk cringy , clingy reader , reader is said to be petite , reader throws tantrums , reader just acts like a baby (imnotevenlying)
ever since you and James started dating you've noticed how differently he treats you from other people. When you guys are with his members , he looks at them with sharp , cold eyes but once he turns to you , his eyes light up , a soft smile on his face watching you play with your plushies.
this has led to you noticing plenty more about how he treats you. If it's comforting you after you cry because your favorite anime is finished , him (lightly) scolding you after you swear saying "my sweet girl only uses pretty words" or him sitting on the couch and you sitting on his lap while wrapping your small arms around his neck before resting your head on his chest and fall asleep, James is there for you. you being his sweet girl, recognizes that and you decide to take care of him as well !!
One day you trample into your guys kitchen, with a smile and a plan. You notice James washing strawberries and a bowl of chopped up mango pieces in a bowl , you stand beside him before latching your arm with his arm. "babyyyy ! can i do your hairrr ??" You ask him, a innocent smile plastered on your face but it fades immediately as soon as James says "no princess, im making you lunch right now. Now go sit at the table and wait for me to finish."
how dare he say no to you!! especially since you've been so nice and sweet to him today, no pouting, no tantrums, nothing! who even cares about lunch, right? why would you eat strawberries when you could put bows in your boyfriend hair!!
you pout before stomping your foot, a whine escaping your lips. "WHY ?! i just wannaaa play with your hairrrrr :(((" you whine out, stretching out every word. James is normally very patient with you because even if you have your outbursts, you normally are very sweet and cute with him. But for some reason he just didn't have the patiences for your tantrums right now..
James grabs you by the waist and lifts you up to sit on the counter, "baby, we've been over this. You can't throw a tantrum every time I don't give into you, i give you everything you want so please just listen to me. Go sit at the table and wait for me to be done." He says sternly but he leaves a kiss on your forehead, he picks you up and places you back on your feet.
you, slowly, walk over to the table, sitting in your spot. you hate getting 'yelled' at by James , it makes you so sad and then you feel the tears coming. James always taught you to always express your emotions, and you almost always listen to your boyfriend! You start crying into your hands, and all that's heard is sniffles, hiccups and choked sobs.
james, who wasn't in the best mood, hears you crying and his whole body stiffens. As if muscle memory he runs over to you, crouching down beside you. "Hey.. hey baby, calm down why are we crying..."
"b-because you hiccup yelled at me >:((("
"princess , im sorry I yelled at you but you need to remember your manners."
"BUT I HAVE GOOD MANNERS"
you yell out, slowly proving James point. you stomp your foot before turning to James, your makeup ruined and your face red from the sudden tears and yelling. But James has a plan to calm you down without him having to yell or be 'mean'.
James picks you up and sits you on his lap, he slowly caresses your head. "hey, y/n.. please calm down, i don't like seeing my pretty girl all stressed out.. how about this, after you eat your mango and strawberries I'll let you play and do my hair!"
you wipe your tears before looking up at him with your soft tear streaked face, gosh you were just so cute even after throwing a tantrum.. then you hug James, resting your head on his chest. "i-i.. i wanna play with your hair... :( so I'll eat my food. im sorry babyy for throwing a tantrum..." you mumble out, before looking up and kissing his cheek.
James grabs a fork a feeds you the sweet mango and the slightly sour strawberries, getting cute aggression everytime you make a face when the strawberry is sour. Once you are finished all your fruit, James grabs a paper towel and wipes off your face, hands and his as well.
james grabs you off the table and sits you on the couch before sitting down beside you, "okay angel, because you ate your food with no complaints, I'll let you do my hair. Go get your supplies!"
as soon as you heard that you could do his hair your eyes lit up with excitement, jumping up to go to the bathroom and grab your spray bottle, comb, leave in conditioner, hair rollers and miffy hair clips. You come running back in before making gestures for James to sit on the floor while you sit behind him for a better look of his hair.
you spray his hair with the spray bottle to make it damp, occasionally spraying him in the face. You comb his hair out and quickly spraying leave in conditioner.. possibly too much but you don't care, you're having the time of your life.
you section out the front part of his hair put tiny purple rollers in his hair to make it all cute and curly! "ahhh jamesss , you look so pretty , i just need to put the hair clips in !!!"
"okay baby, whatever you want!" He say with a bit of fake enthusiusement just to make you happy. you take out the purple roller before scrunching it to make it extra curly. You put a miffy hair clip on the curls to make him look extra pretty !!
you roll off the couch to sit next beside him, before showing him what he looks like in your pretty flower knows mirror. "JAMES YOU LOOK SO CUTEE AND PRETTYY !!" you squeal out.
"yes.. yes baby, i do. Im sure my members will love this!" He says while smiling as your taking pictures to probably post on your story. "Baby, why don't we go to our room and try to relax, yeah?" He grabs your hand before pulling you to your guys room, making you lay on the bed and tucking you in
"princess, just relax for now. Im gonna go clean up lunch, i love you."
a/n: guys I was not kidding when I said that y/n acts like baby IM SO SORRY IF THID MADE YOU CRINGE OKAY
˖ ࣪⊹ SUMMARY: Basically you and James having fun in the plane’s bathroom lol.
˖ ࣪⊹ CONTENT: MDNIII, oral, fem!receiving, nose play?, make out session, risk of getting caught, hooking up in the plane’s restroom, hidden relationship. NOT PROOFREAD mb
˖ ࣪⊹ A/N: Live, love, laugh JAMESS. I swear this man is unfairly attractive and funny ughh I just love him smmmm !!!But anyway, I had so much fun writing this so I hope you guys will enjoy it !!
⚠︎ this is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only.
Masterlist
-22.06.2026
-Fashion week in Paris
After a layover in Doha, you boarded another plane and as Cortis’s stylist, you had to travel with them a lot. You loved your job so much. Working with major brands and well known people was something you never took for granted.
But right now there were still five hours left before landing and it was late. The small lights scattered across the plane’s ceiling, glowing softly while most passengers were sleeping quietly or watching movies.
You could feel sleep slowly catching up to you, but first a quick to the bathroom was necessary cause after eating an entire curry chicken meal you had to freshen up.
You quietly walked down the aisle and made your way to the restroom, opening the door quietly before steeping inside and started brushing your teeth, gently applying some skincare and thinking about all the new food you’ll try in Paris, when you suddenly heard a light knock.
Had you been in there too long ? Was a flight attendant waiting for you to hurry up?
You unlocked the door and pulled it open, only to freeze in surprise seeing James slipping inside and gently grabbing your waist, causing you to let a little gasp out.
“James—what the hell?” You whispered.
The two of you had always shared the kind of relationship that needed to stay hidden. So being together in the tiny airplane restroom was such a terrible idea. Getting caught by a flight attendant would be embarrassing enough, so getting caught by his managers would be a total disaster.
You took a look at him before he locked the door behind him and turning back to you.
“I just miss my girl” he said softly.
You rolled your eyes even though the little smile on your face completely betrayed you. And that’s when you noticed his face properly.
The blond suited him way more than you expected, under the soft bathroom light, the lighter strands framed his face perfectly and combined with his tired eye. After hours of traveling, the air gave him a different kind of charm. He looked exhausted but somehow it only made him look softer.
“Baby, can’t you wait till we land?” You whispered.
He chuckled softly, running his hand through your hair gently.
“I don’t want to” he replied in the shell of your ear. “And I know you want it too.”
His voice made you shiver and for a moment neither of you said anything, his face scanned yours before cupping your cheek gently and bringing your lips to his in a slow kiss.
He pressed you against the wall, kissing you senselessly, his tongue gently brushing against yours while his hand traveled all over your body, and finding the curve of your hip.
You did everything in your power to regain your senses by pulling back but it was too hard, his soft lips couldn’t detach from yours and it felt too good to pull away anyway.
“James—the flying attendant will come if we take too much time, we should get ou—“
James’s mouth was on you again, letting your words fly into the air, his lips merged with yours, causing you to grab his hairs and pulling him closer to you.
He detached himself from you, only to sink down on his knees. You looked down at him, then at the door but the temptation was too high at this point.
“Can i…?” He asked gently, his large hands resting on your legs, waiting patiently for your permission.
“Fuck yeah…” you whimpered, before he slid off your pants and underwear to your knees.
He started peppering hot kisses along your inner thighs, building the heat… till his tongue met your fold, gently licking the outline of it, enough to tease you. Your fingers quickly flew into his blonde hair when he finally started his delicious ministration. His tongue lapping at your pearl feverishly, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure.
“James—” you tried to be as silent as you could but it was hard when his tongue was buried inside of you, making sure your feeling his wet muscle. Even his nose shimmed in, swapping over your clit.. he couldn’t stop looking at you and the way your cheeks flushed hard and lips parted.
“keep going…rub that pussy on my nose baby.”
Your hips shifted forward, making slow movement agaisnt his nose, adding the perfect amount of pressure agaisnt it.
“James—mphh!”
“Fuck, you taste so good baby…” he whimpered agaisnt you. “Spread your legs a little wider for me, yeah?” At his words, you felt his delicate hands pull your legs a little apart, making sure his tongue gets every inch of you.
You looked down at him and shit the sigh of him and those little breathes and whimpers he made only turned you more, causing your fold throbs pathetically hard, it was almost embarrassing that he even looked up at you with a cranked smirk.
Your legs were about to pass out at this point, you could feel them shaking gently, and that bundle of heat growing by each lick, ready to explode at any moment.
“Fuck—fuck James I’m gonna—”
“Let it out, my love” he mumbled agaisnt you, and It took you some poor seconds for you to reach your highs. Your head was thrown back agaisnt the cabin, mouth wide open, legs shaking looped over his shoulder.
He pulled away from you, causing you to already miss the feeling of his mouth on you. Your eyes immediately caught James’s lips and chin that were coated with wetness.
he smiled and gently gave your thighs a light kiss before bringing some tissue to clean you up.
Afterward, his hands caressed your cheek, bringing his wet lips to yours, kissing you slowly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, feeling still completely dizzy with pleasure.
“That was good…but we’re not doing that on a plane again okay?” You said softly while pulling back your pants on.
“Can’t promise.” He joked before planting a last kiss on your cheek. “I’ll go first and we’ll talk later okay?”
You nodded, “yeah sure”
Luckily there was no one around at that moment. James went back to his assigned seat and you sneakily went back to yours. You were freshen up and indeed satisfied in more way than one.
I’M GON’ RIDE in which James -your ‘friend’ just bleached his hair blonde but you’re atrociously down bad for each other.
༝ 赵雨凡 ༝ 𝒙 idol!reader
♯ MDNI, friends-with-benefits, blond hair!james, semi-public heated interaction (for a lack of better words), needy and vocal james, oral (m. receiving and f. receiving), riding, extreme eye contact, unprotected sex.
〆the number of requests for blond hair james was concerning. is everyone okay? anyways thanks for 2k my gooner team!
𓏸 7k ╱ 𝓶. list
‘Do people have a sixth sense that-‘
You clicked the delete button furiously, fingers shaking.
‘Can someone feel when another person is-‘
You closed the Google tab, seconds away from throwing your phone out of the window- but the specific feeling that lived right between your thighs magically dragged your fingers back to the screen, opening a brand new one instead.
‘Is it possible for someone to feel when another person is aroused?’
Aroused was a weak word. Fuck that.
‘Is it possible for someone to feel when another person is wet, without touching them?’
You added a single word at the end of your question- reddit. Because somehow these forums had all the answers to every single question.
It had been like this all day -ever since the moment James stepped in the building with that new blonde hair. Platinum, almost silver under certain lights, falling in soft spikes that framed his sharp jawline and made his dark eyes pop like a fucking sin.
The internet was losing its collective mind; and you weren't ready to face the thousands- screw that- millions of thirsty comments.
Blonde James was lethal.
But blonde James was yours first and foremost.
You clicked on the first reddit link, foot tapping on the floor anxiously.
‘You probably can't help being turned on by certain people, but as long as you are polite and don't stare, you'll probably be OK. Just don't do anything to make it worse, like actively fantasizing about sex with them.’ one netizen said.
Funny.
Cause you were pretty sure today, that blonde hair had flipped a switch inside you. Every time James moved, your gaze locked on the way the strands caught the light, he looked like a glorified anime character, sharp and lean everywhere. And then your eyes would drift lower: the corded muscles of his forearms exposed by rolled-up sleeves, the prominent veins that traced paths over his skin, pulsing faintly with each gesture.
His hands- god, his hands.
Long fingers, knuckles that flexed when he adjusted his mic pack, veins standing out against the back of his palm. You kept imagining them on you, in you, gripping, teasing, spreading.
‘Just don't do anything to make it worse, like actively fantasizing about sex with them.’
Oh you were fucked.
Because that's exactly what you were doing since 9 am sharp this morning, with no break whatsoever.
Get it together, you thought, clenching your thighs together as you waited in the wings during soundcheck.
You aggressively turned off your phone and put it back in your pocket as if it was mocking you with these reddit threads. Your body felt hypersensitive, skin prickling under your stage outfit, heat pooled low in your belly, a constant throb that made your lace panties feel too tight, too damp already.
Just from hair? Pathetic.
But it wasn't just the hair. (It was the hair.) It was also how it made everything about him sharper, the way the strands brushed his neck when he tilted his head and-
Had you mentioned his hands? Oh yeah you were screwed.
Break time. The hallway between dressing rooms was empty for once, staff scattered for lunch. You slipped away, heart hammering, only to feel a warm hand catch your wrist.
And obvious-fucking-ly, it was James.
James your handsome... There was no word to describe what James was.
James was what he became the moment he slipped in your bed and spread your legs with that cocky smirk of his. Which was happening a whole lot lately ever since you'd made that whole fuck-buddy arrangement on a drunken night.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and smooth like velvet.
Since when did you throb when someone greeted you? You were going to have to have a pep talk with the girly downstairs, as soon as expeditiously possible.
James pulled you into a shadowed alcove near the emergency exit, the door clicking softly shut behind you both before you could even greet him back.
Up close, the blonde was devastating. A few strands fell over his forehead, and he brushed them back with long fingers. He was still a little sweaty from dancing, having changed his tee shirt into something more comfortable- but also more revealing; his strong arms now completely bare- shoulders and all.
Your breath hitched audibly.
You were so easy, it was terrifying.
"You've been staring all day," he observed, a small smile playing on his lips. Not smug but rather warm- appreciative even.
He leaned in, his breath ghosting your ear, carrying the faint scent of his shampoo mixed with stage makeup and clean sweat. "Something on your mind, baby?"
You swallowed hard, your back pressing against the cool wall. His hands. Those veins. You wanted them wrapped around your throat, your thighs, inside you.
The thought made your nipples tighten against your top.
Reddit girl would be so mad right now.
"Is it that obvious?" you managed to squeak out, though your voice sounded much deeper than you intended.
You tried to look anywhere but at his mouth, but- there were no buts- James was just all over you, playing with the knowledge that you were currently as red as a tulip.
He chuckled, a vibration that you felt in your own chest and he stepped closer, closing the microscopic gap between your bodies until you could feel the heat of his bare arms. He raised one hand, long fingers grazing your jawline before tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.
You let out a shaky breath, your knees feeling dangerously weak. You thought you could die right then and there.
"It's more than just staring," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip, pulling it down just enough to reveal the damp pink of your inner lip.
James' gaze darkened, dropping to your mouth before snapping back to your eyes. The playful warmth was still there, but it was being rapidly overtaken by something hungrier, something you knew all too well from how many times you'd explored him.
"You look like you're about to pounce..." He leaned in even closer, his nose brushing against yours, his voice dropping to a whisper. "what's wrong baby?"
What's wrong? You wanted to scream in his face, pull on his hair- but the thought only made you wetter- so impossibly wet- you thought you had never been this turned on in your whole entire life.
All because of some bleach and dye.
He didn't wait for an answer. He slid his hand from your face, his palm flat against the small of your back to pull you flush against him, the hard planes of his chest pressing against your breasts and the solid weight of his thighs slotting between yours. You let out a small, broken moan, your hands instinctively flying to his bare shoulders, your fingers digging into the firm muscle there.
You were so incredibly, hopelessly wet it was pathetic- and the friction of his denim against your damp lace was almost too much to bear.
"James," you breathed, his name a plea.
"Yeah, baby?" He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make you arch into him. "Tell me what's wrong sweet girl."
Your hands, still anchored to his bare shoulders, slid upward, palms grazing the warm, slightly damp skin of his nape. Your fingers tangled into the short, silky strands of his new hair that was softer than expected. Your nails grazed at his scalp, scratching lightly, the way you knew he loved.
"Nothing’s wrong," you whispered, though the way your hips involuntarily hitched against his told a completely different story. You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "It's just... you. How am i supposed to focus when you're walking around looking like that?"
James let out a soft, breathless sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh and leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he soaked in your words.
"Shit." he let out a breathy laugh, nose brushing your jawline.
Your whole body was on fire, his skin brushing against yours like he had all the time in the world and you weren't standing in a hallway of your workplace.
You didn't answer his cursing with words. Instead, you tilted your head, your fingers tightening in his hair to pull him down just an inch more. You leaned in with a slow and agonizing movement that forced him to hold his breath in anticipation.
When your lips finally met his, it wasn't as frantic as usual; it was a languid, melting sensation. You started with the lightest of brushes, just a ghost of a touch against his bottom lip, teasing him, dragging a needy sound out of him.
You could feel his hands tremble against your waist, his grip tightening as he leaned into the sensation, desperate for more.
Then, you deepened it.
You let your lips part, your tongue sweeping out to graze the seam of his mouth before sliding inside. The kiss was heavy, wet, and incredibly unbearably slow, as you moved your tongue against his in a rhythmic, swirling motion, tasting him the faint hint of mint and the heat of his mouth.
Every time he tried to increase the pace, to suck harder or pull you closer, you slowed down even more, forcing him to endure the delicious torture of your restraint.
James let out a low, broken sound deep in his throat a needy, desperate hum that vibrated against your tongue. He was melting and you could feel him sagging against you.
His hands migrated from your waist to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair to guide you.
He was so responsive, so hungry for the contact that it made you feel less insane for being so aroused by his goddamn hair.
Every time your tongue swiped against his, he let out a tiny, hitched breath, his hips stuttering a frantic, rhythmic press against yours. And when you finally pulled back just a fraction, leaving a thin, glistening thread of saliva connecting your lips, you didn't let him go far.
You stayed in his space, your noses brushing, your breaths mingling in the small gap between you.
James' eyes were hooded, lips swollen and red from your teasing, "You're gonna kill me, you know that?" he dropped a wet kiss on your collarborne.
You didn't give him the satisfaction of a verbal answer- yet again. Instead, you took one of his hands from your waist and guided it downward, moving slowly, watching his eyes widen, his breath hitching in his throat as your fingers led his palm over the curve of your hip and slid beneath the hem of your outfit.
When his fingers finally made contact with the damp lace of your panties, James let out a choked sound.
He didn't even have to push; the moment he felt the slick, undeniable heat radiating from you, he knew. He felt the warmt of your need, the way the fabric was practically soaked through.
His eyes searched yours, blown wide.
"Fuck" he cursed, his voice cracking. "You're soaked y/n."
He looked like he wanted to sink to his knees right then and there on the floor, to worship you properly while you tugged at his blonde hair.
But just as he began to press a finger inward, seeking to soothe the ache, you caught his wrist.
You pulled his hand away, leaving him momentarily unmoored and breathless, and then you slowly drew his fingers out of the lace.
They were glistening, coated in your heat.
James didn't even hesitate, he brought his hand up to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours, and licked his fingers clean with a slow stroke of his tongue. The sight of him as he tasted you sent a fresh jolt of electricity straight to your core.
"Wanna bury my face between those thighs-" he started, breath fanning over your neck.
But life wasn't all rainbows and butterflies.
"James! Five minutes! We're back on!"
The muffled shout of a stage manager from down the hall shattered the moment in pieces.
The sudden intrusion made you both jump, a small gasp escaping your lips and James let out a frustrated, low groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck for a fleeting second, breathing you in as if he could store the scent of your skin to last him through the next fe hours.
"I'm gonna die." James exhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut. "Why'd you have to be so fucking beautiful-"
The man made a low, pained sound in his throat. He glanced down, his face flushing a deep flustered crimson and reached down, awkwardly trying to shift himself, but the bulge in his stage pants was unmistakable and completely unyielding.
Despite his efforts, he couldn't hide the evidence of how much you'd just affected him.
He looked up at you, his eyes wide and pleading, completely overwhelmed and his hands hovered in the air, unsure of where to go, his shoulders hunching as if he were trying to shrink away from his own desire.
"I-I can't," he stuttered, his voice strained and thick. "I can't go out there like this. Fuck i'm so hard."
You started to move toward him, maybe to offer a reassuring touch or a lingering glance, but James stepped back, shaking his head frantically. He looked almost pained, his jaw tight as he tried to regain his composure.
"You have to go," he breathed through a pained chuckle, his gaze darting everywhere but your face. "I need a few minutes to cool down, or I swear i'm gonna forget every lyric to the songs."
He laughed, a shaky, breathless sound that lacked any of his usual confidence. He was trembling, his chest heaving as he tried to force his heart rate to slow down. "I can't get it down while you're standing there looking at me like that. You're too... you're too much. I can't think straight."
You gave him a small, knowing smile, enjoying the sight of him so completely undone.
“Good luck with that, handsome.” You began to back away, but he followed you with his eyes, his expression a mix of desperate longing and a sweet, innocent sort of agony.
"Hey, hey, come back here," he called after you, his voice a little louder now, "I mean no- don't come back- just text me when you're out. You're coming back with me tonight."
𓏵 𓏵
James was a man of his word- so as soon as the show ended, still sweaty and soaked in water from the bottle of waters his members had poured on him- he was looking for you.
The adrenaline from the final encore was still coursing through his veins, he didn't even wait for the staff to clear the wings.
The moment he saw you standing near the equipment crates, he was moving. He didn't walk; he practically stumbled toward you, his eyes wide and frantic, searching yours.
He looked like a man who had spent the last hour in a fever dream, counting down every second until he could touch you again.
"You're here," he breathed, the words coming out as a relieved, shaky exhale. He didn't care that he was damp with sweat, or that the scent of salt and stage musk was heavy on him. He reached out, his large hands finding your waist with a suddenness that nearly knocked the wind out of you, pulling you into the shadow of a heavy equipment trunk.
He didn't kiss you immediately. Instead, he leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving as he tried to regulate his breathing. He was still vibrating from the performance, but the hunger in him was even more intense than it had been in the alcove.
"God, it was so hard," he whispered, his voice a low, wrecked rasp against your skin. "Every time the lights went down for a transition, all I could think about was you."
You let out a small chuckle, amused, but he didn’t let you speak.
"Can we go?" he asked, his voice pleading, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly. "Please, baby. I don't wanna talk to the guys, I don't wanna do the debrief... I just wanna be alone with you. I need to feel you."
He leaned in, his damp hair brushing your temple, his lips hovering just a fraction of an inch from yours, waiting for your permission, waiting for you to lead him away from the noise and the lights and into the quiet of your bedroom.
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, your hands sliding up his damp chest to cup his face, your thumbs tracing the line of his jaw.
So needy, you thought, feeling a surge of affection so strong it was almost painful.
"Let’s go then, go grab your stuff," you whispered, leaning in to catch his swollen bottom lip in a quick firm kiss. You pulled back just enough to meet his blown out pupils, your eyes dark with the same hunger he was projecting. "We need to leave now before the hallways get crowded."
You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers tightly with his, and began tugging him toward the private exit.
"Right. Yes. Stuff. Going," he stammered, his brain clearly struggling to catch up with his body's frantic demands. He looked like he wanted to scoop you up and run, but the reality of the crowded backstage area forced him to maintain a shred of decorum. "Don't move. Don't move from this spot. If someone separates us, I’m gonna lose it y/n.”
He practically scrambled away, his movements uncharacteristically hurried as he grabbed his bag and his damp towel. You watched him, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs, feeling the weight of his gaze on you even as he turned his back to gather his things.
A few moments later, he was back, his hand finding yours with a desperate strength, his fingers lacing through yours so tightly it felt like he was trying to fuse your skin together.
He couldn’t care less if the stylists or the other members saw him practically dragging you toward the private exit.
As you slipped through the back door and into the cool and quiet night air of the loading dock, the sudden temperature drop made you shiver, but James was there instantly, pulling you flush against his side. He was still radiating heat, unbothered by the possibility that his members might be looking for him.
"Call your driver, pretty girl," he whispered into your hair as he leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, his breath hot and frantic.
The silence in the car was heavy, James didn't even bother to ask to turn on the radio; the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the frantic uneven rhythm of your breathing.
He sat in the back seat, but he wasn't looking out the window. He was turned toward you, his body angled sharply, one hand gripping the edge of the leather so hard his knuckles were white. Every time the car hit a small bump, his knee would brush against yours, and he would let out a sharp, hitched breath, as if the simple contact was enough to push him over the edge.
"It’s so hard to sit still," he finally groaned, the sound vibrating in the small space. He reached out, his hand trembling as he rested it on your thigh, his fingers digging into the fabric of your skirt. "I feel like if we don't get to the apartment in the next thirty seconds, I'm going to start unzipping my pants right here."
It was a joke- not that you would mind.
He let out a breathless, self deprecating laugh, but there was nothing funny about the way he was looking at you. His gaze was tracing the line of your throat, the curve of your lips, the way your chest rose and fell with your heavy breathing.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly register that made your stomach flip. "The way you're sitting there... so calm... so pretty.”
“Shhh we’re almost there Yufan,” your hand hiked up his thigh, tracing over the hard muscles there.
His hips gave an involuntary, desperate twitch upward, seeking the pressure of your hand, trying to close the agonizing gap between your touch and his need. He was so hard, so incredibly sensitive, that even the slight friction of your hand against his trousers felt like a lightning strike.
"Don't... don't stop," he groaned, his fingers curling into the leather of the seat, his knuckles turning a ghostly white. "Please, baby, don't stop. If you stop now, I think I might actually die."
𓏵 𓏵
The second the apartment door clicked shut, he was on you.
James didn't even wait to turn on the lights. He didn't even make it past the entryway, he practically tackled you against the door, the heavy wood thudding against your back as his body slammed into yours. His hands were everywhere at once clutching your waist, tangling in your hair, pulling you so close that you could feel the thudding rhythm of his heart against your own chest.
"Finally," he choked out, the word sounding more like a prayer than a statement. "Finally, finally, finally."
He didn't kiss you gently this time. He devoured your mouth, his tongue sweeping into your heat with a desperate, rhythmic intensity that made your knees buckle. He was kissing you as if he were trying to breathe you in, as if he could absorb your very essence into his lungs.
Your hands slid under your top, his palms hot and slightly damp against your skin, tracing the curve of your ribs before gripping your waist to hoist you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, your thighs squeezing his waist, and the sensation of your damp lace pressing against his hard length made him let out a broken moan into your mouth.
"You're so hot," he whimpered against your lips, his voice wrecked and needy. "you're so fucking beautiful."
He began to move, stumbling backward toward the bedroom, never once breaking the contact of your lips or the frantic grip of his hands. He was stumbling, uncoordinated and desperate, his movements driven by a singular, overwhelming need to be inside you, to feel the friction.
You reached the bedroom and just as you were lost in the heat of his neck, James pulled back just an inch, his breathing still heavy but a glint returning to his eyes. That lopsided, cocky smirk the one he usually reserved for the stage spread across his lips, though his eyes remained soft.
“You know...” he started. He tilted his head, a stray lock of that platinum hair falling over his brow as he cupped your jaw “The hair... I dyed it for you.” He let out a soft, breathless chuckle, his hands sliding from your waist to cup your face, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones with a tenderness that contradicted his smug expression. “Figured since you like Bakugo so much... you might start to like me.”
You stared at him, momentarily stunned. Not a single fiber in your body was ready to think about whatever that meant.
But as you looked at him, really looked at him the way his chest was heaving, the way his eyes were dark with a hunger that bordered on desperation, and the very obvious, heavy ache straining against his trousers a different thought took hold.
Oh, James needs some head. Fuck it he deserves it. “You did?” you smile, breaking the contact. “Didn’t have to change your hair color for me to like you, i already did anyway.”
You slid down his body, your hands gliding over the firm muscles of his thighs, guiding him as you descende and James let out a startled sound as you sank to your knees on the hardwood floor in front of him. He reached out instinctively, his fingers tangling in your hair, his knuckles white as he braced himself against the wall for support.
"Baby?" he breathed, his voice trembling, his eyes wide and blown out as he looked down at you. He looked completely undone, his smugness melting instantly into a state of pure, vulnerable anticipation. "Wait- are you…“
He didn't finish the sentence. He couldn't. He just stood there, trembling, his head tilting back as he watched you, his breath hitching in his throat as he waited for your next move.
You didn't give him the satisfaction of immediate relief. Instead, you leaned in just enough to let your warm breath ghost over the fabric of his trousers, right where he was most sensitive. You watched his eyes flutter shut, his head lulling back against the doorframe with a shaky, expectant groan.
You started with a tease, your tongue tracing the hard, pulsing line of him through the cloth, circling the head of his length with agonizing slowness. You could feel him shudder, his hands tightening in your hair, his hips jerking forward in an uncoordinated attempt to meet your touch.
"Baby... please," he asked, needy "Don't... don't play with me like this. You know how much I need you."
You let out a low, muffled giggle against the fabric, enjoying the way he trembled under your control. You moved your hands up, unbuttoning his trousers and sliding the zipper down with a rasp that sounded like thunder in the quiet room.
When you finally freed him, the sight of him thick, heavy, and pulsing with his own heat made your mouth water.
Then, you finally leaned in.
The moment your lips made contact, James let out a low sound. You took him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head before sliding down the length of him in one long, wet motion.
The reaction was instantaneous. His entire body went rigid, his fingers clenching so tightly in your hair that it was almost a tug, but you didn't mind.
He was lost. He was completely, utterly gone. He leaned his head back, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his eyes rolling back in his head.
"Oh god..." he gasped, his voice breaking. "Right there angel... just like that. You're so good... so fucking good to me."
You picked up the pace, your movements becoming more rhythmic and intense. You used your hands to stroke the base of him, creating a seamless, overwhelming sensation that had him swaying on his feet. He was a mess of sensation, his breath coming in ragged, frantic gasps, his hips beginning to move in time with your mouth.
The rhythm of your mouth was relentless, a perfect, swirling combination of heat, suction, and the expert glide of your tongue. You weren't just being careful; you were being thorough, worshiping him with every wet, sliding movement. You could feel the tremors racking his entire frame, the way his thighs shook so violently he had to lean against the wall just to stay upright.
As you felt him reaching that final, frantic peak his hips beginning to stutter in short, desperate jerks you decided to change the dynamic.
You slowed down just a fraction, pulling back enough to let the cool air hit his slick, heated skin, and then you tilted your head back to look up at him. Your eyes were heavy, lidded as you looked up at him through your lashes, your lips glistening and we. Your gaze traveled upward, past his trembling chest, past his frantic throat, until it landed on his hair.
The strands were a mess, damp with sweat and tousled from his own fingers, catching the dim light of the apartment.
He looked so goddamn good-
James opened his eyes, his vision blurry and his mind a fog of pleasure, and he looked down to find you watching him with that dazed, worshipful expression. He saw the way your eyes lingered on his hair, the way you looked at him like you’d die if he didn’t touch you.
"Baby..." he choked out, his voice a mere whisper, his hands shaking as he reached down to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your wet lips. "Just- come up here. I’ll give you anything you need, yeah?"
Every time your glassy, dark eyes drifted up to catch his, his heart gave a violent, painful thud against his ribs.
James was not okay.
He felt dizzy a legitimate, spinning vertigo that made the room tilt. It wasn't just the physical sensation of your mouth; it was the way you were looking at him, you looked so hungry and that caused his undoing.
His cock was twitching in front of your face, the head of him weeping clear droplets of pre cum, reacting to the sensory overload of your presence. He felt like he was a live wire, a single touch away from loosing all control.
James reached down, his fingers trembling so badly he could barely grip your shoulders, his knuckles white. He felt like he could cum at any second, just from your eyes alone.
"Don't look at me like that and then stop," he pleaded, a broken, needy whine vibrating in his chest. He was practically begging now, his pride long since abandoned. "Just... finish it. Please. I can't... I can't hold it- I'm right there... I'm so close..."
His hips gave a sudden, violent twitch, his entire body tensing as he felt the first, unmistakable wave of a climax beginning to form through him.
Gosh- was he that down bad?
You didn't let him drift away, you leaned forward, your hands gripping his thighs to steady him, and took him deep.
The sensation of him filling you, the thickness of him sliding past your throat, forced a muffled noise from his lungs. His fingers tangled so violently in your hair that it was almost a pull, his knuckles white as he braced himself against the wall, his entire body vibrating with the force of his climax.
"Oh fuck fuck fuck- baby." he curzed, the word catching in a sob.
He was pulsing, his entire length twitching rhythmically against your tongue as he began to come. You didn't pull back; you leaned into it, your throat working, your suction intense and unrelenting as he poured himself into you. You felt the hot, thick waves of his cum hitting the back of your throat.
He was shaking, his knees finally giving out as he slumped against the wall, his breath coming in frantic, sobbing gasps. He was completely spent, his eyes glazed and unfocused, staring down at you with a look of pure, holy awe.
And you didn't miss a single drop.
You swallowed every bit of him, the thick, salty taste of him a final, intimate seal on the moment. You took your time, making sure he saw the way you swallowed, making sure he saw the way your throat moved, before you finally pulled back.
The moment you finished, James was a man possessed. He didn't let you stay on the floor for long; he scooped you up and carried you to the bed, his lips finding yours in a series of frantic, messy kisses as he laid you down.
He was still reeling, his mind a hazy fog of pleasure, but the sight of you flushed and breathless made his head spin.
He flipped you onto your stomach, hands sliding down the curve of your spine- and he leaned down, breath hot against the back of your thigh, as he began to work his way up.
When his tongue finally found you, nudging your panties to the side- he let out a low, needy groan, his face burying into your pussy from behind.
His strong hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, spreading you open for him as a moan vibrated against your soaked folds- his tongue dragging slowly from your dripping entrance all the way to your swollen clit.
James was completely lost in it. He licked broad, flat strokes across your pussy, lapping up your arousal like a man dying of thirst. His tongue circled your clit with teasing pressure before flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves, making your hips jerk involuntarily.
“Fuck… you taste so good,” he growled against your core, the words muffled as he pressed his face in harder.
He nudged your panties further aside with his nose, then sucked your clit between his lips, hollowing his cheeks as he drew on it with pulsing suction.
Your thighs trembled, a broken moan spilling from your mouth into the sheets. You didn’t even know what to do anymore- you were wrecked- completely.
You were grinding back against his face without shame now, chasing the building pressure which James only encouraged, his free hand kneading your ass, spreading you wider so he could eat you more thoroughly.
He alternated between long, hungry licks and focused suction on your clit, occasionally pulling back just enough to blow cool air over your overheated flesh before diving back in with renewed hunger.
"James..." you gasped, your fingers digging into the bedsheets, your hips arching instinctively toward him. The sensation was incredible, but the ache in your core was demanding something more something else. "James, stop... wait."
He paused instantly, his head lifting, his face flushed and his hair a beautiful, damp mess. He looked up at you through his lashes, his eyes wide and searching, looking like a puppy waiting for a command. "What? What’s wrong baby"
"Nothing’s wrong," you breathed, reaching back to grab his hands and pulling him upward. You rolled over, your eyes locking onto his, dark and commanding. "I don't want you down there. I wanna feel you. I wanna ride you."
James didn't argue. He couldn't possibly.
He simply sat back on his heels, his breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches as he watched you climb over him. His hands hovered near your waist, wanting to grip you, wanting to pull you down, but he held back, his fingers trembling with the effort of letting you take control.
As you settled onto him- hovering over his cock and slowly sinking down- the sensation of him filling you caused his head to loll back, a long groan escaping his lips.
When you began to move, the rhythm of your hips setting a pace that was both slow and punishingly deep, James fell into a trance of pure sensation.
He couldn't even find the words to praise you anymore.
He just sat there, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and wild as they tracked every movement of your body.
His mouth hung slightly open, his breath hitching every time you bottomed out against him, his gaze so intense it felt like witnessing something forbidden.
You leaned forward, your hands reaching up to find purchase in that beautiful hair you’d been admiring all day. You wound your fingers into the silky strands, tugging just firmly enough to pull his head back, exposing the lon line of his throat.
"You look so good like this, James," you whispered, your voice a low, sultry purr that seemed to vibrate through him. You leaned down, your lips brushing his ear, your breath hot and teasing. "This hair... you look so good.”
You gave his hair another sharp, commanding tug, pulling his face up to meet yours.
"Fuck..." he finally managed to choke out, though it was barely a sound, just a broken exhale of your name. He looked completely unmoored, his hands finally coming up to grasp your hips, not to guide you, but to hold on for dear life as you drove him closer and closer to the edge. "You’re gonna kill me... You're absolutely killing me."
The pace shifted from a slow, torturous grind to a frantic, rhythmic bounce that sent jolts of electricity straight to his core.
You leaned forward, your chest brushing against his, and reached down to grab his hands, guiding them away from your waist and to the swell of your ass.
“Feels so good- you’re so deep.” you keened, head lolling back.
As you picked up the speed, you began to consciously squeeze, your internal walls clenching and pulsing around his cock. You gripped him with a precision that was nothing short of calculated, catching him with every upward surge of your hips.
"Ah fuck-" he whimpered, trying his best not to make this end so quickly.
His hips began to buck upward instinctively, trying to meet your frantic pace, his entire body coiling into a tight, vibrating knot of pure tension.
"You're so tight... you're so fucking tight..." he gasped, the words coming out in broken fragments.
“I know, baby, I know fuck...” you moaned, your head falling back as you felt him bucking beneath you, “You’re so good, James... you feel so fucking good.”
He couldn't even keep his eyes open; he just stared up at you, his jaw tight, his entire body vibrating with the effort of not coming mid sentence.
"mmhh fuck," he choked out, his hands sliding from your ass to your hips, his fingers bruising your skin as he tried to pull you even deeper, to merge your bodies together. "Do it... do it again. Squeeze me like that... please, sweetheart, please."
So you did.
"You're so beautiful..." he said, the words catching in his throat as he watched you, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
“Oh fuck”you gasped, the words breaking into a ragged moan as his hips bucked violently against you, trying to meet your desperate pace. You leaned down, your hair brushing against his sweat slicked skin, and bit your lip to keep from screaming as the tension reached a breaking point. “I’m so close, James... so so close”
You reached down, your fingers tangling in his blonde hair to pull his head up, needing to see his expression when you finally broke.
He cursed sharply, hips snapping up to meet you with renewed force. One hand slid up your back, pressing you flush against his chest while the other slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.
“Come for me baby-” he growled, voice low and filthy. “Let me feel you.”
The tension snapped.
Your orgasm crashed over you hard, a white-hot wave that tore a loud, shameless moan from your throat. You clenched around him rhythmically, pulsing, soaking him as pleasure ripped through every nerve.
You did it one final time, and that was all it took.
James came with a groan that tore straight from his chest. His whole body seized beneath you -every muscle locking up tight as the first spurt of his cum flooded deep inside you. He couldn’t stop moving. Even as his orgasm ripped through him, his hips kept thrusting up into you in short, desperate, uncontrollable strokes, chasing the pleasure, fucking his cum deeper with every erratic snap of his pelvis.
“Fuck- fuck, baby- ” he gasped, voice hoarse.
His arms wrapped around you like a vice, clinging desperately as he pulled your body flush against his. One hand splayed wide across your back, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, while the other gripped the back of your neck, holding you in place. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, mouth open against your sweat-slick skin, panting and moaning as another thick pulse of cum spilled into you.
You could feel everything- the way his cock throbbed and twitched violently inside your pulsing heat, his hips kept rolling in shallow, stuttering thrusts even as he came down, like he physically couldn’t stop claiming you. His lips pressed open-mouthed against your throat, teeth grazing your skin as broken whimpers and curses vibrated against you.
For a long minute he stayed like that -buried to the hilt, still giving tiny, involuntary thrusts as the last drops of his cum leaked into you, arms locked around your body like he never wanted to let go.
“Fucking hell…” he finally breathed, voice wrecked and muffled against your neck. He pressed a sloppy, lingering kiss just below your ear, then another, softer this time. His hold slowly loosened, but only slightly- one hand still stroking down your spine while the other stayed tangled in your hair.
“You okay, baby?” He nuzzled deeper into your neck, pressing another kiss there. “I think I lost the ability to think for a second…”
You softly giggled, breathless- and you kissed him right back on the temple. “Cute”
James looked up, his eyes always told stories but right now- they told you all you needed to know about the nature of your relationship.
There was no way in hell you could both pretend this wasn’t more than a stupid drunken arrangement anymore.
“I should dye my hair more often if it means you’ll ride me like you just did.”
that shit was so long idk what possessed me i’m so down bad it’s so unfunny.😭✌🏻
Thinking of your best friend James who’s always so patient and sweet but gets frustrated one day and just fucks the shit out of you 😩
take it
chao yufan x bratty!reader
cw - nsfw, making out, unprotected sex, rough sex, cumming inside, cum eating, choking, big dick!james, filthy filthy shit, aftercare because james is still a sweet boy
⋆˙⟡
he was so kind, so sweet. he was practically the only person who tolerated your tendencies to act up any chance you got.
he would soften the crease between your brows with the pad of his thumb, ridding of your pout as he hugged you against his chest, allowing to to whine about how you didn’t get your way.
he would listen to your ranting with that attentive look in his eyes, the look that assured you he cared because he always did.
he would immediately tend to your needs the moment your foot stomped against the ground and your arms crossed against your chest. he would run around frantically, desperately trying not to worsen your mood as he masked his concern with a smile because why would he want to burden you further?
he didn’t have an issue with pampering you with anything and everything your heart desired because it was no secret that he was head over heels for you. he knew that you knew, but every passing day of you brushing it off, acting oblivious to his love fuelled the burning fire buried deep in his chest.
he was so kind, so sweet. you never expected him to hold you down against his mattress and push his dick into you inch by inch, smiling as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
‘what’s wrong, hm?’ his fingers tapped your cheek as he awaited an answer, something you were unable to give with the string of obscenities leaving your lips.
‘fuck! s’ too much-’
‘but this is what you wanted, isn’t it? you like pushing my buttons.’ he gritted out between clenched teeth, each thrust of his hips emphasising his words as your walls clenched around his fat cock.
‘no-’ he cut you off with his hand wrapping around your throat, his fingertips digging into the marked skin he was biting only a few moments ago. ‘yes, baby. you like pissing me off ‘cause you think i won’t do anything about it.’
his smile only widens at the sight of you shaking your head with a small whine. ‘s’ okay, honey. you don’t have to lie.’
he presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, his chest compressed against your own as he wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer while his cock continues to impale your insides.
it hurt so fucking good. every thrust stretching you open further, every thrust causing his tip to poke at your cervix, the bulge very evidently showing in your tummy.
‘james,’ you mewl, nails clawing against his bare back, ‘i can’t…’
‘really? it seems your pussy can, she’s squeezing me so tight, baby. i think she wants more.’ sweat glazes his forehead, small beads dripping down to his defined cheeks as his head cocked to the side, mocking you.
god, you wanted to slap the smile off his face and kiss it at the same time.
you couldn’t lie to yourself about the fact that you purposely irked him to this point, you couldn’t help it with the way he looked when he was angry; clenched jaw and eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed ever so slightly as you could see the plotting behind his pupils, his plans of wanting to absolutely ruin you.
the bed creaked beneath you two, the headboard banged against the wall with every thrust. you would’ve pushed him to his limits sooner if you knew what he was hiding beneath his pants.
‘you can take it, baby. i know you can.’ he presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek before smashing his lips onto yours. the kiss was everything but innocent; tongues clashed against each other as his grip on your neck kept you still.
you swore that he went deeper with every thrust. how could somebody be this big?
he panted against your lips, trying to keep himself balanced as he effortlessly rolled his hips over and over again, practically moulding the both of you into one.
it didn’t take long for you to finish; your lips shaped into a small ‘o’ with your eyes being furrowed shut. your nails left marks on his back as your legs were wrapped around his waist, an attempt to keep him close as your juices smeared all over his cock.
grunting against your lips, he came with a final thrust. he shoved himself deep into you, letting his warm cum coat your insides.
‘fuuuck-’ his groans filled your ears as he slowly pulled out of you, his tip resting on your tummy as he bought his fingers down to your dripping cunt.
he scooped up his leaking cum, bringing his coated fingers to your lips as his free hand held your jaw. ‘c’mon, taste what i did to you.’ - his smile returns as you open your mouth with the little energy you have left, savouring the flavour of you and him on your tongue.
⋆˙⟡
your eyes felt hazy and your body felt sore until a warm towel was suddenly against the inside of your thighs.
james ensured to be gentle was he wiped the mess layered on your skin - his free hand caressed your cheek with such tenderness, you never would have believed he was capable of what he did only a few minutes ago.
‘i warmed up the bath for you-’ his voice was equally as sweet as his current actions, ‘i’ll carry you there in a second, m’kay? i just wanna clean my baby up first.’
you couldn’t help the fuzzy feeling in your tummy. after all, he still was your best friend. but could you even call him that after what happened, after what he did to you? or rather, after he did you?
that was a conversation to be concerned about for another time. all you knew is that after your bath, you wanted to fall asleep in his arms the same way you always have, just that this time, it would have a deeper meaning.
sure, things will become complicated now but you can take it. you already took him.
⋆˙⟡
2 MONTHS is how long this bitch has been sitting in my drafts. 2 whole months. forgive me everybody but it is posted now 😓
pairing : supportive bf! james x overachiever! burnt out gf! fem reader
content warning : mdni, 18+ content, unprotected sex, this fic is basically for all the burnout girlies there (like me)
word count : 2,217 words 12,510 characters
there was nothing james couldn't handle, except your peak season of uni.
midterms, especially when they overlapped with club activities, were always his biggest nightmare. everything seemed to pile up at once, leaving you buried under deadlines and responsibilities. and that worried him. you'd forget to eat properly, barely get enough sleep, and slowly shut everyone out whenever things got tough. james knew you hated being seen vulnerable, so instead of asking for help, you'd keep everything to yourself and carry the weight alone.
he was from the art and music department, so he couldn't fully understand what it was like to take a stem program. but he didn't need to experience it himself to know how difficult it was for you.
during those weeks, you'd only facetime him whenever everything became too much. you'd cry to him, but you'd never let him come over. whenever he planned a date to help take your mind off things, you'd immediately decline, saying you had meetings to attend or exams to review for.
and the only thing he could do was send food to your apartment. sometimes you'd thank him, but other times, when he finally got to see you again, he'd find the unopened containers still sitting on your counter, untouched for days.
without you noticing, james had somehow managed to steal your spare key. from then on, he'd quietly let himself into your apartment every now and then, always bringing food or making sure you'd at least taken a break. you appreciated it more than you let on.
but one night, he walked in at the worst possible time. you had just realized you'd made a major mistake while planning the club event, one that caused everything to be pushed back. papers were scattered all over the floor as you frantically searched through them, your hands shaking, your breathing uneven. the pressure finally became too much, and before you knew it, you were crying.
the front door clicked open.
"baby?" james called softly.
he stepped inside, only to freeze at the sight of you standing in the middle of the apartment, surrounded by papers, your face stained with tears as you desperately tried to pull yourself back together.
"babe... james! what the hell are you doing here right now?" you snapped, hastily wiping at your tears. james froze by the doorway, a plastic bag of your favorite snacks dangling from one hand. the small smile he'd walked in with disappeared the second he saw the state you were in.
"i..." he looked between the papers scattered across the floor and your trembling hands. "i just wanted to check on you."
"you can't just come in whenever you want!" you raised your voice, frustration spilling over. "i'm busy!"
his grip on the bag tightened. "i know. i just thought maybe you hadn't eaten yet."
"i don't care about food right now!" the words came out harsher than you intended. james didn't argue back. he simply stood there, worry written all over his face, still clutching the snacks he'd bought just for you.
the moment the words left your mouth, you covered your face as another sob escaped you. you quickly turned your back to him not wanting him to see you like this. you already felt terrible over the mistake you'd made and now you felt even worse for taking it out on your sweetest boyfriend who only wanted to take care of you.
james' chest tightened, seeing you break down like this never got any easier. without saying a word, he carefully set the bag of snacks on the counter before walking over to you. he gently wrapped an arm around your waist, effortlessly lifting you up into his embrace despite your weak protests, then carried you to the bed and sat you down.
you buried your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with every quiet sob as james brushed your hair away from your face, his hand slowly stroking the top of your head.
"it's okay," he whispered. "i'll pick these up, okay?"
his eyes drifted to the papers scattered across the floor before returning to you.
"now tell me what happened."
james held you close from behind, spooning you beneath the blankets. his arms were wrapped so tightly around you that you almost felt suffocated, but deep down, it felt like he was trying to shield you from every bit of pain you were carrying. every now and then, he'd press the softest kisses against your forehead, your temple, your tear-stained cheeks, silently reminding you that he was there.
between shaky breaths, you told him everything. the mistake that delayed the club event, how guilty you felt for overlooking something so avoidable, the pressure of leading your team, and the constant stress of balancing it all with your classes.
and james listened without interrupting, gently rubbing circles against your arm.
"you can talk to your team about it," he murmured. "ask for their help. you don't have to do everything by yourself, y/n."
he kissed your cheek again before pulling you impossibly closer.
"and you already studied for your chemistry exam weeks ago." another kiss. "please don't overthink the results, okay?"
his hand found yours beneath the blanket, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"you've been carrying everyone else for so long. let someone carry you for a little while."
"but i'm the leader," you protested quietly. "if they make a mistake, it's my mistake too."
james let out a small sigh, resting his forehead against the back of your head.
"being the leader doesn't mean you have to carry everything alone," he said softly. "you're allowed to lean on people too, y/n. your team isn't there to watch you shoulder everything. they're there because they want to help."
james' voice was barely above a whisper as he brushed another kiss against your damp cheek.
"i really think that's something you need to work on. you always convince yourself that asking for help is a burden, but it's not."
he rested his chin on your shoulder, holding you just as tightly as before.
"let your team be there for you." another kiss. "let your friends be there for you."
his hand intertwined with yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"...and let me be here for you, hmm? you don't always have to be the strong one. you deserve someone to lean on too."
he shifted, his movements fluid and deliberate as he carefully rolled you beneath him, propping himself up on his elbows so he wouldn't crush you. in the dim light of your bedside lamp, his eyes were impossibly soft, filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache.
james lowered his head, but not to your lips. instead, he pressed his mouth gently to the corner of your eye, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your tears. he moved to your other eye, repeating the gesture, his breath warm against your cooling skin.
"you can't seem to stop crying about it, baby..." he mutters, his voice a low, intimate rumble against your ear.
his thumb gently sweeps away a fresh tear from the corner of your eye, tracing the damp path it leaves down your temple. "i really wish i could strip all the pain away from you, baby." his voice cracks slightly on the last word, a rare glimpse of his own helplessness in the face of your suffering.
his lips brush against the sensitive shell of your ear, and then he nips at the soft lobe, a sharp, grounding sensation that makes you gasp. "but right now..." he pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark and intense, roaming over every tear-streaked inch of your face. "you look so pretty and beautiful crying. how is that possible?"
there's a genuine awe in his voice, a fascinated reverence. his eyes trace the swollen, pink curve of your lips, the way your lashes clump together in dark spikes, the flushed, blotchy patches on your cheeks that he finds inexplicably endearing.
james kisses you like he's trying to memorize the taste.
it's slow, almost lazy, his lips a soft, firm pressure against yours. he doesn't rush, just takes his time, his tongue sweeping in to taste you with such intensity that steals your breath. much less of a kiss and more deliberate claiming.
he makes quick work of your shorts, yanking them down your legs and sending them flying across the room. he doesn't even bother with your sweater, too desperate to feel your skin. his mouth never leaves yours as he shoves his own sweats down just enough to free himself. with one hand gripping your hip, he lines himself up and presses the hot, bare tip of his cock against your dry core, a guttural groan vibrating in his chest.
you could feel him ripping you open, the sharp, unprepared stretch making a raw cry catch in your throat. you were still unaroused, every thrust was a fresh burning friction that made more tears spill over, hot and useless.
he distracted you with messy desperate kisses, his words a low and frantic murmur against your lips. "shh, baby, it's okay, i've got you," he panted, the promises sounding hollow even to his own ears. "just let me in, just let me take care of you, it'll all be okay, i promise..."
you knew words were never enough to soothe the worries clawing at your chest right now. you didn't need empty promises, someone telling you things they weren't sure of. but the desperation in james, the frantic way he was moving, like he was trying to fuck that feeling right out of you... it was doing something else.
it was oddly comforting.
his dry thrusts made you wince, each one a sharp unwelcome friction, but he was so desperate to make you wet. his hand snaked between your bodies, his fingers fumbling and urgent as he rubbed against your clit. it was almost clumsy in its haste, but the sheer need in his touch was undeniable. james was trying so hard to fix this, to make you feel good, to make you feel anything other than stress.
and in that frantic, clumsy effort, you felt a sliver of his own anxiety, a mirror to your own. it was the most honest thing he'd done for you.
"james, please... it hurts," you whined, your voice small and tight.
his rhythm didn't falter. "i know it hurts, pretty," he panted against your neck, his breath hot and frantic. "but you have to overcome it. it's the only thing that will help you overcome this..." his mind clearly miles away, tangled up in your problems and not pertaining the tearing pain in your walls. he was trying to fuck you into a solution, to burn out your anxiety with a fire of his own making.
after a few more rough thrusts, the tearing pain begins to lessen, replaced by a slick, building heat that spreads through your core. a soft gasp escapes your lips as your body finally starts to feel the pleasure. you cling to james soooo much, your nails digging into the firm muscle of his back, the discomfort melts away and it starts to feel amazing. each roll of his hips sends a new wave of pleasure through you, and you arch into him, meeting his desperate rhythm with your own newfound need.
"james!" you gasp, the sound sharp and breathless. it earns a deep, guttural groan from him, his hips stuttering for a beat before he slams into you even harder.
"fuck, moan like that.” he growls, his voice a low, predatory rumble against your ear. "makes me wanna fill you up with my cum."
"nooo james..." you whined, breath hitching as he drove deeper, "p-pull out."
but he was already shaking his head against your neck, hips stuttering with how close he was. your hands pushed at his shoulders but there was no real force behind it, fingers curling instead of shoving. "whyyy nottt?" he groans, voice wrecked, "just... fuck, just feel it. it’s gonna make you feel so good…"
"wait," you gasp, but you're clinging to him now, legs locked, meeting his thrusts with your own.
"i’m-!”
too late. james buries himself to the hilt with a broken, guttural sound, his dick pulsing hot and thick cum inside you. the sudden fullness sends you over the edge too, whimpering his name as your orgasm crashes through you, melting every tense muscle into liquid heat.
james collapses on top of you, both of you trembling, sweat-slicked and breathing hard. after a moment, he shifts his weight but doesn't pull out, staying nestled there while he brushes damp hair from your face.
"one more round, please baby?" james breathes against your jaw, still buried deep and throbbing. you can feel the mess he already made, cum smearing everywhere each time either of you shifts.
his hips give this tiny, involuntary roll and you feel it.
the way his cum pools around where he's stretching you, making everything filthy and wet and sooo messy.
“c'mon," james whines, voice all gravel and need, "let me fuck the shit outta you, so you won’t feel soo terrible anymore…”
@kiswritting | his no. 1 slave
dear readers, can u believe that author-nim hadn't had a bf before? (she is a perverted virgin) but im js so obsessed with this james bf agenda
WARNINGS: none really, just martin being a disaster, mild language, light cussing, physical clinginess, mentions of burnt food
SYNOPSIS: Martin shows up at your place looking like he fought a kitchen appliance and lost. He insists he’s “fine,” which is a lie, and you end up dealing with the cutest, messiest version of him.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I wanted to present my readers with some martin so here he is! unhinged and clingy. this is pure fluff, zero braincells, all heart. enjoy <3
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Characters are based on public personas only. Nothing here reflects real-life relationships or behavior. Please DO NOT repost, translate, or copy my work to other platforms. Reblogs are appreciated but not needed ofc!.
P.S: JOIN MY TAGLIST PRETTY PLS IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO MAKE IT
MASTERLIST:
Martin didn’t knock.
He never knocked, but today he didn’t even pretend to try. He burst into your apartment like someone fleeing the scene of a murder they caused, hair sticking up in all directions, hoodie half‑zipped, smelling faintly of smoke.
You stared at him. “What happened to you?”
He pointed at himself, offended. “I cooked.”
“Oh no.”
“Yes,” he said dramatically, kicking off his shoes. One landed by the door. The other ricocheted off the wall and disappeared under the couch. “It was a battle. I lost.”
You blinked. “Martin, what did you burn?”
“My dignity,” he said immediately. “And also maybe the pan. And also maybe the counter. And also-"
“Martin.”
He stopped talking, walked straight to you, and collapsed onto your couch like gravity had personally targeted him. Then he reached for you with grabby hands.
“I need comfort,” he declared.
“You need supervision,” you corrected.
He ignored that, tugging you closer until you were practically sitting on his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist like he was anchoring himself to the earth.
“You’re warm,” he mumbled into your shoulder.
You snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” he said, tightening his hold. “But I’m your ridiculous.”
You tried to pull back. He didn’t let you.
“Martin, I can’t breathe.”
“You don’t need to,” he said. “I’ll breathe for both of us.”
You stared at him. “That’s not how breathing works.”
He hummed, eyes already drooping. “It is for me.”
You pry yourself off him, and he immediately lays on your chest.
You sighed, brushing a hand through his messy hair. He melted instantly, like someone unplugged all the tension in his body.
Within seconds, he was half‑asleep, cheek pressed against your chest, arms locked around you like a koala who refused to be relocated.
You looked down at the clingy, chaotic, burnt‑food‑smelling mess of a boy and shook your head.
“Unbelievable,” you whispered.
He didn’t wake. He just nuzzled closer, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like your name.
⋆⭒˚ 요약 - now that you and james are finally a thing, he can show you just how freaked out he is.
warnings: 𝄞 smut w plot, freaky horny asf james, high sex drive, dry humping, sub-y down bad james, public foreplay, cumming in clothes, oral fixation, car smut, face sitting, mention of boobjob and foot job.
for more context and extra scenes this is based on ‘off the records’ my smau + narration.
You should’ve taken it as a warning when James snuck in your room for the 3rd time that week.
He carefully closed the door behind him, hair messy in spikes like he’d been running his hand through it anxiously, and he looked down at you.
You were laying in your bed, fresh out of the shower working on a personal project you’d been keeping a secret from the members, your wet hair dripping in splotches on your notebook, blurring out words and leaving ink puddles.
James plopped down on your bed beside you, and the first thing he did was bury his face in your thigh in a child-like manner than made you smile.
“What’s wrong with you?” you stroked his hair, typing on your laptop with your free hand.
James didn’t answer, he let out a muffled sound, like he was suspecting you’d ask him to get off and was protesting, but you didn’t. You looked down at him, the glasses that had been perched on your nose drooping down its slope, and he wrapped both arms around your waist; you reached for the hair on his nape, nails grazing the skin there, scratching ever so lightly until he was purring like a cat.
“I missed you.” he said against your thigh, squeezing his arms tighter around your frame.
“I was right here, could’ve just knocked and came in.”
James shook his head, “Didn’t wanna bother my pretty girl.”
You chuckled, the nickname always sending warmth flooding your face.
It had been close to a month now since you both started ‘dating’ or whatever this was. You didn’t wanna put a label on it, you were both in love with each other, had been for the longest time, you didn’t see other people and spent all your free time together, which were the exact requirements to be a couple, but the term was too corny in your opinion. So you settled for this, late night snacks, a private -almost secret- relationship because of your choice of lifestyle, hang outs in your rooms because there was nowhere else you could actually go on dates, sneaking in his room in the middle of the night because you just couldn’t stop thinking about something he’d done to you with his hands.
And life was great, so far.
The only thing though, was that you’d noticed recently, something unveiling in him, like the weight of the relationship had unmasked his true self. James had always been pretty obsessed with you, touchy, needy, but this much you wouldn’t have imagined. There were days when he’d turn up in the changing rooms after practice or studio sessions with hooded eyes, pants too tight for his own good, he’d tell you about how he’d gotten hard in the middle of rehearsal because he thought about ‘the way your tits were bouncing last night when you were riding him’ or sometimes it was the sound of your exhausted pants after an intense workout. You felt like he just couldn’t get enough, of anything really. He always had his hands on you one way or another, whether it’d be your lower back, hands or shoulders, and when he’d feel a little wilder, your ass, grabbing a handful while no one was looking and squeezing like a manic.
He was obssesed with everything you did, go hard at the slightest brush of your hand and worshipped the very ground you walked on.
“You never bother me.” Lie.
He did bother you because you weren’t yourself anymore, you were pretty sure he had perverted you in the process, and you didnt mean that lightly, you felt like some sort of succubus, a sex demon he had created.
“Mmhh” he let out a satisfied sound at your thigh, lifting his head a bit so you could see his eyes. “Do you think i’m too clingy?”
You half chuckled half scoffed, surprise at his self-awareness.
“C’mon you know me James. If i thought you were too clingy you’d already be out the door.”
You saw him shrug, droopy eyes staring at you. He looked peaceful, tired even, like maybe just maybe he’d gotten enough for once. That was until he opened his mouth and spoke.
“Can i eat you out? You look tense. You look like you need to be ate out.”
You almost choked on your saliva, one eyebrow raising instinctively, because he looked genuinely concerned, “James… do you ever like… not wanna eat me out?”
He answered way too fast, “No” he perched his chin on your thigh, “i can’t stop. You taste so good and it’s all i can think about. But if you don’t want to it’s okay…”
Your frown turned into a small smile before you put the laptop down. His ears perked up like a puppy’s, and he straightened instantly like he was anticipating your every move. “What?”
James blinked, “Nothing”
You ditched the notebook, tossing it on your desk carelessly and sat back on the sheets, “Come here then, you said you wanted to eat me out?”
He immediately reached for you like he’d been waiting hours for an answer even thought it’d only been a few minutes.
“Thank you, thank you…” he repeated, hand wrapping around your calf in utter devotion.
The second his hands were on you, you laid back against the headboard, looking down at him like he was the best gift you’d ever received, and he truly was, to the core.
“Let me take care of you” he whispered against your knee, kissing his way up to your thighs like there was nowhere else he’d rather be than right there between your gorgeous legs.
Truth is, even he knew he was down bad. He’d started getting truly concerned when he found himself sporting hardons in public settings just because you were breathing next to him. He’d always taken the merit of being pretty composed and self controlled, but this was beyond crazy, you drove him mad, made his cock throb in his pants 24/7 like a goddamn teenager. He wanted you like a sickness, and he didn’t know how to be any less ‘chalant’ around you.
With you, his greed knew no bounds.
So he did what he did best, he settled in between your thighs, planting snow kisses up your legs until he was tugging at your cotton shorts with his teeth, looking effortlessly hot doing so. He loved being like that, being the only one who got to touch you there, lick you and make you come on his tongue, he quietly thanked you for letting him do that, and his tongue darted out, skimming the edges of your panties as he threw your shorts somewhere on the floor.
His thumb drew out, flicking the wet spot on your underwear, the fabric rubbing against your clit in an aching manner. Your hand found his face, stroking his cheek while his own hooked around your thighs, opening them up wider.
He wasted no time tugging your panties to the side, breath faltering on your soaked pussy, the air passing making you clench around nothing. He took a second, looking at your arousal with wide eyes, eyeing the way your walls fluttered responding to the emptiness you were feeling and his mouth moved by itself,
“Sit on my face, please.”
Your breath caught in your throat, jaw hanging open. This wasn’t the first time he’d asked, he found something extremely hot in letting you sit on his face, smothering him with your slickness, but everytime he said the words, you could feel yourself pulsing with need.
You lifted off the bed as he laid back and you straddled his chest, taking a moment to look down at him. “You’re the craziest man i’ve ever met.”
“Oh, cause you’ve met other men?” He smiled coyly, gripping both your thighs.
And whatever answer you were gonna give him died between your lips when he dragged you down on his mouth. You gasped at the sudden contact, your hand keeping your pantie out of the way while both of his were on your ass, pulling you close like he wanted to suffocate.
James was doing this for you but also for himself, he loved making you feel good and the satisfaction it brought him, but also something about you riding his face made his cock throb in his pants, your moans muffled with your hand making his hips lift off the bed. His tongue flicked and prodded, messy and desperate lapping up your slick like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted and when you started rocking your hips on his tongue, he buried his face in your pussy, sucking at your clit, his moans sending vibrations through your sensitive core. James looked up at you all through it, like he just couldn’t do anything without seeing you, his wide glassy eyes, puppy-like making your hips twitch on his face.
“Mmh James- fuck..” you bit down on your lip, hands on your breasts.
Seconds later, you had were propping yourself on his thighs, angling your hips so that his tongue was directly lapping at your clit, he helped your hips through their movement eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
You threw your head back at the sheer pleasure, and at the sound of your pleads, James’ hips twitched thrusting in the air with broken whimpers, he was a mess of your slick dripping down his chin, but he wanted more, he didn’t even see the point in breathing anymore.
Both his hands pushed you down to grind on his face, working you closer and closer to an embarrassingly fast orgasm.
The second his heavy lidded eyes looked up a you, glassy and drunk, pleading and burning with devotion, you lost it. Tension coiled in your lower belly, your hips grinding against his mouth while he made you feel beautiful with his gaze, and in seconds you were gasping, covering your mouth.
“i’m so close… fuck… james you’re so good… so good.” you said incoherently.
The pressure snapped and your orgasm rocked you beyond comprehension, his erratically twitching, his tongue continued lapping echoed by his groans, his own hips jumping off the bed, cock rubbing against the fabric of his sweatpants. Your body lapsed into convulsions and you bit down on your finger to muffle your noises.
Just when you started coming down, James pushed you down on his face again, “mmhh… another one… please.”
And how could you say no?
A week or so later, you found yourself at a celebratory party, this being the first time you were allowed to go out since your debut.
One of James’ friends was hosting a party at a private club where only people of the industry were allowed to attend, only you and James went, naturally, since you were the only two of-age.
You both ran into Ohyul and Ryul, stopping to chat with them for a bit. You could feel James’ hand on your back the whole time, not even bothering to be subtle, everyone inside your circle knew so it wasn’t that big of a deal but his possessiveness made something ugly churn in your stomach.
“yeah it’s insane out here, Louis’ already in a drama bro, he’s only 15.” Ryul shrugged, sipping on a cup of something you didn’t wanna know about.
“Yeah i heard, what happened?” you asked.
“He got caught talking to a girl, i mean bro wasn’t really slick about it to begin with.” Ohyul smirked, his silver rings catching the club lights with each movement. “I swear that kid is trying to end us.”
James chuckled, hand tightening on your lower back. “I mean - there’s never enough media training you can give a 15 year old.”
Ryul answered in a joking tone, “Nah, now that he’s the next big thing, he’s exploring. Somebody’s gotta stop him before he does some damage.”
After about 15 minutes of gossiping and catching up, you felt an impatient hand on your hip.
“If you don’t mind, we’re gonna go over there to grab some drinks. We’ll see you guys around.” James pulled you closer.
Ryul and Ohyul nodded, throwing peace signs before walking off in the direction of a group of people.
“You wanna drink something?” you gave him a smirk.
James’ eyes softened as he took in your smile and he kissed your temple, “yeah, what do you want my love?”
“Um… i’m thinking malibu and pineapple.”
He nodded, “Yes ma’am, coming right up.” before walking to the bar.
Exactly 4 minutes later, he was pressed up behind you in the packed dance floor, your head thrown back on his shoulder while you sipped on your cocktail. The room was hot, your skins sticky with sweat and alcohol, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be than close to him.
Jame’s hand resting on your hip drifted to your lower stomach, breath playing on your neck while he pulled you closer against his front. “You look so beautiful, i bet everyone wishes they were in my spot right now.”
“Shut your corny ass,” you chuckled.
Your eyes closed enjoying the loud bass thumping beneath your feet and James’ arm circled your waist to push you flush against him. As you danced, your ass pressed against him in ways he couldn’t explain, the alcohol making everything flow easily, you ground back on him, the crowd concealing each of your movements.
“Y/n…” he warned as he felt his pants instantly tighten.
He knew he was unbelievably easy for you, and you played right into it, sipping your cocktail innocently while your ass rubbed him.
“You’re so mean…” He left a sloppy kiss against your neck. “so so mean.”
You smiled, and at the sight, his hips thrusted against your ass, shameless. He hated that he was so weak for you, so hard already, and that you were in public so he couldn’t just bend you over and do as he pleased.
You played right into it, grinding back, your head thrown back exposing the slope of your neck which he worshipped so desperately. In that moment, the world narrowed to the space between you, his hips rolling hard and unabashedly, like he couldn’t care less that you were out. One of his hand slipped to grab at your ass, fighting not to pull your panties to the side and dip a finger in right then and there.
“Y/n… shit.” he said to the crook of your neck.
Jame’s hips slammed against your backside faster, pushing his covered length between your bare thighs with extra force. He was panting and huffing uncontrollably against your nape, starting to whine from how hot and trapped his cock felt.
“You’re so hard baby…” you whispered, not even shocked.
He was mildly thrilled about the fact that he couldn’t actually get off on you the way he so desperately wanted, and that no one knew he was about to cum in his pants in such a humiliating way from dry humping your ass. He could feel his pulse ringing in his ears with how much he was throbbing.
You took another sip of your drink, acting unbothered while bouncing back to squish your thighs together and rub against his girth with more pressure.
“Shit shit… y/n i can’t hold it baby.”
In seconds, he had his face buried in your neck, hips stilling and twitching as he came in his pants. James’ was a sticky mess, riding a high he couldn’t get off of, hands groping you frantically.
“You’re so evil.” he panted against your neck, his cock twitching with after shocks.
Minutes after, James dragged you out of the club, hand in yours as you both giggled like kids, running to the underground parking lot where the car he had borrowed was parked.
He quickly held the door for you to get inside and sat in the driver’s seat, pants ruined but mood up the roof.
You drove for a couple minutes in the suburbs, until you reached a calm little hill overlooking the city. You quickly leaned over the stick shift, unbuttoning his jeans like your life depended on it.
You wanted to spend time making him feel good too, because he did it most of the time - not that he minded- he just loved taking care of you. But now it was his turn. James lifted his hips and let his pants and messy boxers fall down, his cock already hard and soiled with his previous load.
You kitty-licked his tip, laving it clean while his hand hovered hazardously over your hair. You grabbed his wrist, planting his hand in your strands, giving him your consent for him to pull.
James let out the prettiest noises when you spent extra time toying with his balls, alternating between using your hand and tongue to massage each, while pumping him in your hand. His hips moved along, thrusting in your fist with want, but during all of this, his eyes were open and on you, silently worshipping.
“You’re so good at this baby, i can’t- fuck- cant think straight.”
He whined, still sensitive and hurting, but he was pulsing faster in your palm the moment your lips closed around his tip, sucking. His head threw back against the headrest, hand smacking against the car door as he whimpered, eyes adoring the sight of you. Your mouth was stuffed full of him now, throat constricting around him, you gave his balls the same attention and a little work up and down of your swollen lips got him fully worked up the tip of him hitting your tonsils.
“fuuuck…” James’ eyes rolled back, hand holding onto the headrest behind him, arching up until you were gagging around another one of his releases pouring down your throat. “god, fuck.”
He was gone now, slumped on the seat, chest moving wildly with rapid breaths. He was so down bad there was no escaping this.
Every single week that went by, James shocked you even more by his filthiness.
Not one time did you complain though. On the contrary…
Like that time after rehearsal, he came home horny and frustrated, got down on his knees and kissed your thighs, looking up at you like a mad-man. And he took your leg between slender fingers, your foot sliding to his lap. He spent minutes humping your foot, desperate for any sort of release, and like always - because he couldn’t think of himself only - he ate you out reverently.
Or the time he fucked your tits, the tip peeking from between your perky breasts as he thrust with abandon, he ended up coming like that, painting them with his release.
Or the time he fucked you, no - made love to you- in his bed while everyone was gone, hips rolling slowly, dragging deep inside of you while your walls fluttered around him. When he repeated over and over that he loved you, that you were his.
And especially not the time he sent you a video while you were in your bedroom and he in his. He was stroking himself to the thought of you while you were two rooms down the hallway.
There wasn’t one second when he bothered you, you could never complain, because he fulfilled each and every one of your fantasies, deepest secrets you’d kept guarded.
⋆⭒˚ 요약 - now that you and james are finally a thing, he can show you just how freaked out he is.
warnings: 𝄞 smut w plot, freaky horny asf james, high sex drive, dry humping, sub-y down bad james, public foreplay, cumming in clothes, oral fixation, car smut, face sitting, mention of boobjob and foot job.
for more context and extra scenes this is based on ‘off the records’ my smau + narration.
You should’ve taken it as a warning when James snuck in your room for the 3rd time that week.
He carefully closed the door behind him, hair messy in spikes like he’d been running his hand through it anxiously, and he looked down at you.
You were laying in your bed, fresh out of the shower working on a personal project you’d been keeping a secret from the members, your wet hair dripping in splotches on your notebook, blurring out words and leaving ink puddles.
James plopped down on your bed beside you, and the first thing he did was bury his face in your thigh in a child-like manner than made you smile.
“What’s wrong with you?” you stroked his hair, typing on your laptop with your free hand.
James didn’t answer, he let out a muffled sound, like he was suspecting you’d ask him to get off and was protesting, but you didn’t. You looked down at him, the glasses that had been perched on your nose drooping down its slope, and he wrapped both arms around your waist; you reached for the hair on his nape, nails grazing the skin there, scratching ever so lightly until he was purring like a cat.
“I missed you.” he said against your thigh, squeezing his arms tighter around your frame.
“I was right here, could’ve just knocked and came in.”
James shook his head, “Didn’t wanna bother my pretty girl.”
You chuckled, the nickname always sending warmth flooding your face.
It had been close to a month now since you both started ‘dating’ or whatever this was. You didn’t wanna put a label on it, you were both in love with each other, had been for the longest time, you didn’t see other people and spent all your free time together, which were the exact requirements to be a couple, but the term was too corny in your opinion. So you settled for this, late night snacks, a private -almost secret- relationship because of your choice of lifestyle, hang outs in your rooms because there was nowhere else you could actually go on dates, sneaking in his room in the middle of the night because you just couldn’t stop thinking about something he’d done to you with his hands.
And life was great, so far.
The only thing though, was that you’d noticed recently, something unveiling in him, like the weight of the relationship had unmasked his true self. James had always been pretty obsessed with you, touchy, needy, but this much you wouldn’t have imagined. There were days when he’d turn up in the changing rooms after practice or studio sessions with hooded eyes, pants too tight for his own good, he’d tell you about how he’d gotten hard in the middle of rehearsal because he thought about ‘the way your tits were bouncing last night when you were riding him’ or sometimes it was the sound of your exhausted pants after an intense workout. You felt like he just couldn’t get enough, of anything really. He always had his hands on you one way or another, whether it’d be your lower back, hands or shoulders, and when he’d feel a little wilder, your ass, grabbing a handful while no one was looking and squeezing like a manic.
He was obssesed with everything you did, go hard at the slightest brush of your hand and worshipped the very ground you walked on.
“You never bother me.” Lie.
He did bother you because you weren’t yourself anymore, you were pretty sure he had perverted you in the process, and you didnt mean that lightly, you felt like some sort of succubus, a sex demon he had created.
“Mmhh” he let out a satisfied sound at your thigh, lifting his head a bit so you could see his eyes. “Do you think i’m too clingy?”
You half chuckled half scoffed, surprise at his self-awareness.
“C’mon you know me James. If i thought you were too clingy you’d already be out the door.”
You saw him shrug, droopy eyes staring at you. He looked peaceful, tired even, like maybe just maybe he’d gotten enough for once. That was until he opened his mouth and spoke.
“Can i eat you out? You look tense. You look like you need to be ate out.”
You almost choked on your saliva, one eyebrow raising instinctively, because he looked genuinely concerned, “James… do you ever like… not wanna eat me out?”
He answered way too fast, “No” he perched his chin on your thigh, “i can’t stop. You taste so good and it’s all i can think about. But if you don’t want to it’s okay…”
Your frown turned into a small smile before you put the laptop down. His ears perked up like a puppy’s, and he straightened instantly like he was anticipating your every move. “What?”
James blinked, “Nothing”
You ditched the notebook, tossing it on your desk carelessly and sat back on the sheets, “Come here then, you said you wanted to eat me out?”
He immediately reached for you like he’d been waiting hours for an answer even thought it’d only been a few minutes.
“Thank you, thank you…” he repeated, hand wrapping around your calf in utter devotion.
The second his hands were on you, you laid back against the headboard, looking down at him like he was the best gift you’d ever received, and he truly was, to the core.
“Let me take care of you” he whispered against your knee, kissing his way up to your thighs like there was nowhere else he’d rather be than right there between your gorgeous legs.
Truth is, even he knew he was down bad. He’d started getting truly concerned when he found himself sporting hardons in public settings just because you were breathing next to him. He’d always taken the merit of being pretty composed and self controlled, but this was beyond crazy, you drove him mad, made his cock throb in his pants 24/7 like a goddamn teenager. He wanted you like a sickness, and he didn’t know how to be any less ‘chalant’ around you.
With you, his greed knew no bounds.
So he did what he did best, he settled in between your thighs, planting snow kisses up your legs until he was tugging at your cotton shorts with his teeth, looking effortlessly hot doing so. He loved being like that, being the only one who got to touch you there, lick you and make you come on his tongue, he quietly thanked you for letting him do that, and his tongue darted out, skimming the edges of your panties as he threw your shorts somewhere on the floor.
His thumb drew out, flicking the wet spot on your underwear, the fabric rubbing against your clit in an aching manner. Your hand found his face, stroking his cheek while his own hooked around your thighs, opening them up wider.
He wasted no time tugging your panties to the side, breath faltering on your soaked pussy, the air passing making you clench around nothing. He took a second, looking at your arousal with wide eyes, eyeing the way your walls fluttered responding to the emptiness you were feeling and his mouth moved by itself,
“Sit on my face, please.”
Your breath caught in your throat, jaw hanging open. This wasn’t the first time he’d asked, he found something extremely hot in letting you sit on his face, smothering him with your slickness, but everytime he said the words, you could feel yourself pulsing with need.
You lifted off the bed as he laid back and you straddled his chest, taking a moment to look down at him. “You’re the craziest man i’ve ever met.”
“Oh, cause you’ve met other men?” He smiled coyly, gripping both your thighs.
And whatever answer you were gonna give him died between your lips when he dragged you down on his mouth. You gasped at the sudden contact, your hand keeping your pantie out of the way while both of his were on your ass, pulling you close like he wanted to suffocate.
James was doing this for you but also for himself, he loved making you feel good and the satisfaction it brought him, but also something about you riding his face made his cock throb in his pants, your moans muffled with your hand making his hips lift off the bed. His tongue flicked and prodded, messy and desperate lapping up your slick like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted and when you started rocking your hips on his tongue, he buried his face in your pussy, sucking at your clit, his moans sending vibrations through your sensitive core. James looked up at you all through it, like he just couldn’t do anything without seeing you, his wide glassy eyes, puppy-like making your hips twitch on his face.
“Mmh James- fuck..” you bit down on your lip, hands on your breasts.
Seconds later, you had were propping yourself on his thighs, angling your hips so that his tongue was directly lapping at your clit, he helped your hips through their movement eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
You threw your head back at the sheer pleasure, and at the sound of your pleads, James’ hips twitched thrusting in the air with broken whimpers, he was a mess of your slick dripping down his chin, but he wanted more, he didn’t even see the point in breathing anymore.
Both his hands pushed you down to grind on his face, working you closer and closer to an embarrassingly fast orgasm.
The second his heavy lidded eyes looked up a you, glassy and drunk, pleading and burning with devotion, you lost it. Tension coiled in your lower belly, your hips grinding against his mouth while he made you feel beautiful with his gaze, and in seconds you were gasping, covering your mouth.
“i’m so close… fuck… james you’re so good… so good.” you said incoherently.
The pressure snapped and your orgasm rocked you beyond comprehension, his erratically twitching, his tongue continued lapping echoed by his groans, his own hips jumping off the bed, cock rubbing against the fabric of his sweatpants. Your body lapsed into convulsions and you bit down on your finger to muffle your noises.
Just when you started coming down, James pushed you down on his face again, “mmhh… another one… please.”
And how could you say no?
A week or so later, you found yourself at a celebratory party, this being the first time you were allowed to go out since your debut.
One of James’ friends was hosting a party at a private club where only people of the industry were allowed to attend, only you and James went, naturally, since you were the only two of-age.
You both ran into Ohyul and Ryul, stopping to chat with them for a bit. You could feel James’ hand on your back the whole time, not even bothering to be subtle, everyone inside your circle knew so it wasn’t that big of a deal but his possessiveness made something ugly churn in your stomach.
“yeah it’s insane out here, Louis’ already in a drama bro, he’s only 15.” Ryul shrugged, sipping on a cup of something you didn’t wanna know about.
“Yeah i heard, what happened?” you asked.
“He got caught talking to a girl, i mean bro wasn’t really slick about it to begin with.” Ohyul smirked, his silver rings catching the club lights with each movement. “I swear that kid is trying to end us.”
James chuckled, hand tightening on your lower back. “I mean - there’s never enough media training you can give a 15 year old.”
Ryul answered in a joking tone, “Nah, now that he’s the next big thing, he’s exploring. Somebody’s gotta stop him before he does some damage.”
After about 15 minutes of gossiping and catching up, you felt an impatient hand on your hip.
“If you don’t mind, we’re gonna go over there to grab some drinks. We’ll see you guys around.” James pulled you closer.
Ryul and Ohyul nodded, throwing peace signs before walking off in the direction of a group of people.
“You wanna drink something?” you gave him a smirk.
James’ eyes softened as he took in your smile and he kissed your temple, “yeah, what do you want my love?”
“Um… i’m thinking malibu and pineapple.”
He nodded, “Yes ma’am, coming right up.” before walking to the bar.
Exactly 4 minutes later, he was pressed up behind you in the packed dance floor, your head thrown back on his shoulder while you sipped on your cocktail. The room was hot, your skins sticky with sweat and alcohol, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be than close to him.
Jame’s hand resting on your hip drifted to your lower stomach, breath playing on your neck while he pulled you closer against his front. “You look so beautiful, i bet everyone wishes they were in my spot right now.”
“Shut your corny ass,” you chuckled.
Your eyes closed enjoying the loud bass thumping beneath your feet and James’ arm circled your waist to push you flush against him. As you danced, your ass pressed against him in ways he couldn’t explain, the alcohol making everything flow easily, you ground back on him, the crowd concealing each of your movements.
“Y/n…” he warned as he felt his pants instantly tighten.
He knew he was unbelievably easy for you, and you played right into it, sipping your cocktail innocently while your ass rubbed him.
“You’re so mean…” He left a sloppy kiss against your neck. “so so mean.”
You smiled, and at the sight, his hips thrusted against your ass, shameless. He hated that he was so weak for you, so hard already, and that you were in public so he couldn’t just bend you over and do as he pleased.
You played right into it, grinding back, your head thrown back exposing the slope of your neck which he worshipped so desperately. In that moment, the world narrowed to the space between you, his hips rolling hard and unabashedly, like he couldn’t care less that you were out. One of his hand slipped to grab at your ass, fighting not to pull your panties to the side and dip a finger in right then and there.
“Y/n… shit.” he said to the crook of your neck.
Jame’s hips slammed against your backside faster, pushing his covered length between your bare thighs with extra force. He was panting and huffing uncontrollably against your nape, starting to whine from how hot and trapped his cock felt.
“You’re so hard baby…” you whispered, not even shocked.
He was mildly thrilled about the fact that he couldn’t actually get off on you the way he so desperately wanted, and that no one knew he was about to cum in his pants in such a humiliating way from dry humping your ass. He could feel his pulse ringing in his ears with how much he was throbbing.
You took another sip of your drink, acting unbothered while bouncing back to squish your thighs together and rub against his girth with more pressure.
“Shit shit… y/n i can’t hold it baby.”
In seconds, he had his face buried in your neck, hips stilling and twitching as he came in his pants. James’ was a sticky mess, riding a high he couldn’t get off of, hands groping you frantically.
“You’re so evil.” he panted against your neck, his cock twitching with after shocks.
Minutes after, James dragged you out of the club, hand in yours as you both giggled like kids, running to the underground parking lot where the car he had borrowed was parked.
He quickly held the door for you to get inside and sat in the driver’s seat, pants ruined but mood up the roof.
You drove for a couple minutes in the suburbs, until you reached a calm little hill overlooking the city. You quickly leaned over the stick shift, unbuttoning his jeans like your life depended on it.
You wanted to spend time making him feel good too, because he did it most of the time - not that he minded- he just loved taking care of you. But now it was his turn. James lifted his hips and let his pants and messy boxers fall down, his cock already hard and soiled with his previous load.
You kitty-licked his tip, laving it clean while his hand hovered hazardously over your hair. You grabbed his wrist, planting his hand in your strands, giving him your consent for him to pull.
James let out the prettiest noises when you spent extra time toying with his balls, alternating between using your hand and tongue to massage each, while pumping him in your hand. His hips moved along, thrusting in your fist with want, but during all of this, his eyes were open and on you, silently worshipping.
“You’re so good at this baby, i can’t- fuck- cant think straight.”
He whined, still sensitive and hurting, but he was pulsing faster in your palm the moment your lips closed around his tip, sucking. His head threw back against the headrest, hand smacking against the car door as he whimpered, eyes adoring the sight of you. Your mouth was stuffed full of him now, throat constricting around him, you gave his balls the same attention and a little work up and down of your swollen lips got him fully worked up the tip of him hitting your tonsils.
“fuuuck…” James’ eyes rolled back, hand holding onto the headrest behind him, arching up until you were gagging around another one of his releases pouring down your throat. “god, fuck.”
He was gone now, slumped on the seat, chest moving wildly with rapid breaths. He was so down bad there was no escaping this.
Every single week that went by, James shocked you even more by his filthiness.
Not one time did you complain though. On the contrary…
Like that time after rehearsal, he came home horny and frustrated, got down on his knees and kissed your thighs, looking up at you like a mad-man. And he took your leg between slender fingers, your foot sliding to his lap. He spent minutes humping your foot, desperate for any sort of release, and like always - because he couldn’t think of himself only - he ate you out reverently.
Or the time he fucked your tits, the tip peeking from between your perky breasts as he thrust with abandon, he ended up coming like that, painting them with his release.
Or the time he fucked you, no - made love to you- in his bed while everyone was gone, hips rolling slowly, dragging deep inside of you while your walls fluttered around him. When he repeated over and over that he loved you, that you were his.
And especially not the time he sent you a video while you were in your bedroom and he in his. He was stroking himself to the thought of you while you were two rooms down the hallway.
There wasn’t one second when he bothered you, you could never complain, because he fulfilled each and every one of your fantasies, deepest secrets you’d kept guarded.
Summary: Your boyfriend — despite being naturally leading, is pretty submissive in bed. It comes as quite a shock when he decides to take control once but who are you to say no?
⤷ smut!!! p in v, softdom!soobin. established relationship. soobin spits in and on you a couple times. lowk size kink. big dick!soobin agenda. few praises thrown in.
a/n: fem!reader (afab so implied), inspired by my dream & requested kinda 🫡 soobin nation rise up. not proof read ><
Being intimate with Soobin has never felt this heavy and hot. His bigger, more intimidating frame easily envelops your body and naturally leads the progress of your connection. You’re not sure when you ended up in his lap, swallowed by his broad stature as you struggle to keep up with the prodding tongue exploring your mouth. Your heart is dizzy with lust-fuelled excitement and your stomach starts to clench and sends sparks of passion towards your lower body. Your hips rock subconsciously against his own as you chase relief for the pressure that’s built up in your sensitive clit from his actions.
You’re practically panting as Soobin continues his ministrations. The usually passive and quite submissive man clings to you needingly, pressing his mouth against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues as if trying to prove a point to someone in his head.
Your hands which dig into the skin as the base of his neck falter and squeeze at the wisps of hair as he pushes you impossibly closer by the small of your back. Your lips disconnect slightly so his hot, heavy tongue can lick a daring stripe from your neck to just above your jaw.
You can’t help but whimper at the feeling. You feel like you’re going insane as Soobin continues to have his way with you. It’s not like Soobin to practically jump on you and have you sit pretty in his lap as he does what he wants to you. Usually, he’s staring at you with eyes blown large with desire as he asks you want you want him to do. What he can do to make you feel so good. Usually the control over someone so much larger than you makes your legs clench but the way Soobin is practically treating you like a doll has you drenched in a way you didn’t think was ever possible.
“Mhmph — Soobin!” You mewl as he presses heavy kisses against your cheek, travelling up your face to press them into your hairline before he lands back at your mouth. He snakes a hand from the small of your back to clench your chin between fingers, pulling his face back so he can stare at you with dark eyes. You swear your eyes almost roll to the back of your head at the sight of his plush, bruised lip. They’re slick with saliva and a small string still connects your lips.
He breathes heavily but the way you’re panting at having your breath stolen from you is undeniably hot to both of you. Your hands slip from his neck to hold his broad shoulders. You must look crazed — hair messy and lips swollen from the nips caused by Soobin.
“What’s gotten into you?” You question under pants, eyes darting around your boyfriend’s face. His hooded eyes drink in the details of your wrecked face. Soft eyes, furrowed brows and parted, kiss bitten red lips that glisten under the dull light in the bedroom like a crude layer of lipgloss. Soobin’s dick twitches at the sight.
“Need you.” Soobin mutters honestly as his hand drops from your chin. You swallow thickly before letting out a small puff in surprise as Soobin swiftly scoots back to lay you flat against the bed. Your stomach flutters as he easily manhandles you in a pliant position he wants to see you in.
“H-Hah..” You exhale shakily as Soobin’s hand runs down your body. His large plans envelope your tits, squeezing and pushing them together under the fabric of your top. He uses his thumbs to rub over the protruding tips, revelling in the way you shiver and bite your lip at the feeling. Your legs greedily rub together, ignoring how your knees knock into his legs and give away what you’re doing.
Wriggling and twisting, you reach after his touch. He curses as his hands trail further down your body until he reaches the hem of your shirt. His head dips as he pushes the material up, lips pressing wet searing kisses to the exposed skin of your torso. When he lifts away to press more, tongue darting to lap at the skin, the cool air causes a nipping sensation that makes your back arch.
Your head falls further back into the pillows as your hands grasp at the sheets. Soobin pushes your shirt up to the point it bunches over the swell of your breasts, pert nipples facing the cool air without much cover. Your legs press together as his head rounds up to the flesh of your tits. His tongue leaves a hot trail of desire, mapping his ministrations as he finally targets your breasts. He swirls the tongue around the perky bud, lips suctioning down as his teeth graze at the sensitive surface. You mewl and yelp as his other hand comes to twist at the neglected nipple.
“A-Ah, Soobin..” You moan wantonly, back arching and twisting. You try to pull away from the pinching of your right nipple but it leads you to push against Soobin’s face causing his teeth to dig into the soft flesh. You hiss and mewl as you feel yourself become more needy at the opposite sensations.
“So needy.” Soobin mumbles around the flesh as he moves to suck the skin just under your areola. You seizes his pinching to lightly roll over the bud with his thumb. You sigh as he separates from your tit with a soft ‘pop!’
The skin presents with a slight red tint. Soobin exhales as he realises the mark will slowly darken over time.
You release your hands from the sheets to weave your fingers into Soobin’s dark strands. He follows your lead until his face connects with your again. Your lips jut into a pout as you motion for him to meet you halfway with another kiss but he stills despite the pull on his hair.
“Jus’ kiss me, already.” You whine, feeling slightly lightheaded by the change in dynamic. Soobin’s lip flips into a smirk at one corner, the expression sends a flutter straight to your cunt. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against your lips.
You relish in the soft kiss. It’s different from what he’s inflicted upon you tonight.
He pulls away softly and his eyes almost seem a little lighter. They’re still clouded with unwavering desire but his expression seems just a fraction smaller.
“..My beautiful baby.” Soobin practically whispers as his eyes take in the features of your face. You turn hot under the appreciation. Soobin presses a soft kiss against your jawline, eyes dazzling with love.
“Soobin..” You whine with embarrassment laced into your words, “Just fuck me already.”
If the room wasn’t hot before it was hot now. As soon as the plea left your mouth Soobin was stripping his shirt and unbuckling his belt. The visual of the taller man sat on his knees above you as his belt clacked and jiggled as he whipped it off and threw the accessory to the side with a metallic thud made your thighs clench. The way his brows furrowed slightly as the belt fumbled a little and the groan of relief once he was able to undo it and throw it to the side made the everyday action just a little hotter.
You shuffle and pull yourself up to fully take off the shirt that was uncomfortably bunched around your chest. Soobin’s eyes shamelessly stare at your tits as they shake a little when you readjust the strands of hair that fell into your face.
“Shit. Baby. Let me eat you out.” Soobin asks as he hurriedly pushes his trousers around his ankles. If you weren’t so turned on you’d probably laugh at how he swears when the material bunches on his thighs and he’s forced to hop off the bed to fully take the denim off. The strain of his cock against the black material of his Calvin Klein’s makes whatever humour die in the back of your head as you zone in on the print.
“Jus’ need you in me.” You reply earnestly. Soobin crawls back on the bed, leaning over you like predator to prey. His eyes meet yours softly, “I’ve been dying to taste you, baby.”
You almost moan at his words. Soobin uses a hand to trace your features with delicate fingers. Your hand raises to softly hold at the hand. Not to stop him but just to simply touch him.
“I just need your cock, ‘Bin.” You say it so easily Soobin feels himself twitch in his underwear. The fingers tracing your lips lead themselves to your lips, slightly pressing down on the pink flesh to open your mouth silently. You let him use you, opening your mouth so he can press down on your tongue.
“Get my fingers wet, my love.” Soobin hums as he zones in on the way your tongue twirls over the long digits. He wills himself to not teasingly press a little deeper. If he was feeling a little meaner maybe he’d see how far he could go before you gag against the prodding digits. He hooks a thumb on your chin so he can rub his pointer and middle fingers against your tongue.
You hum, voice bordering on a whine as your mouth salivates from his actions and face alone. Soobin pulls his fingers away but taps on your lips to tell you to keep your mouth open. You flinch a little when he spits but you can’t help but smile when the droplet of saliva lands on your tongue neatly. He dips his fingers back in to scoop it up and really coat his fingers.
He lets you breathe when he pulls away. You swallow thickly as Soobin shifts his attention to your needy cunt. The cool sensation of his fingers prodding as your hot, gushing pussy is enough to make your eyes roll back. He circles your clit a few times — the way you like — before dipping the tips of his fingers into your needy hole. He glances up to gage your reaction before pushing in his fingers, wiggling a little to ease them in.
“Didn’t even need you to drool all over my fingers.” Soobin laughs a little as your mouth falls open. You let out a breathy exhale as he scissors you open, fingers slowly spreading against your gummy walls to get you used to the feeling.
“Ha-ah, told you I need you.” You retort as your fingers curl against the sheets. Soobin hums and bends his head so he can leave a small kiss at the top of your thigh. The muscle twitches at the sensation but the loving action next to the pumping of his fingers makes your stomach feel warm and fuzzy.
It’s not long before the usual dirty sound of squelching fills the air. Soobin manages to wiggle in a third finger despite your little huffs when it stings as he introduces the third. He hums as he shifts back on his knees so he can use his other hand to circle at your clit.
Your thighs begin to shake a little. Your head lolls back as you whimper. Soobin’s long fingers and strikingly ability to find the spot that makes you see stars is a lethal combo, but one that makes you moan like a bitch in heat.
“Soob, ‘m gonna cum.” You warn. Soobin continues, twisting his fingers just slightly as he rubs a little faster on your clit. You should be embarrassed at the wet sloshing sound that fills the room but you can’t focus on it when the familiar warm tugging sensation starts to pull in your lower stomach.
“Gonna cum for me?” Soobin asks as he looks at your face. Your hair is disheveled from throwing your head back but it falls around your head like a halo. He presses a fingers a little harder against the spongy spot inside your cunt as he continues to coo little praises that makes your walls clench against the fingers.
“Pretty baby.” Soobin cooes as you cum. Your back arches with your pretty tits pointing perkily to the air. Soobin wills himself to not grab at the flesh as he continues to slowly pump his fingers in your squishy walls to help you ride out the orgasm. Your hips chase after the fading sensation before eventually stopping.
Soobin takes the signal to slowly detach his fingers from your cunt. Your pussy clenches as he pulls out.
Your head feels dizzy as you turn your head to look at your boyfriend. He’s slowly peeling the elastic band of his boxers away from his hips. You’d offer to help if you weren’t still a little breathless from whining for Soobin to keep going.
He rolls the material down his thighs. His quads tighten as his hand wraps around the base of his cock. He uses the juices from the hand he used to finger you to spread it across the sensitive skin.
He hisses at the contact. Despite being sexually active Soobin still swears he feels like he could cum from one touch alone as he looks at your body. He feels like a dam teenager who just got their hands on their first porn mag as he drinks in your vulgar position.
“Roll over for me, baby.” Soobin commands. You nod, slowly rolling yourself over so you can plant yourself on your hands and knees. It used to feel embarrassing to present yourself so freely to Soobin but you’ve gotten used to this man and his libido to realise he’s way to horny to care for slight imperfections you’ve decided you’ve got in your head.
Your back arches as Soobin places a palm on the skin of your ass. You feel the bed dip as he shuffles forward, stomach clenching when the head of his cock taps against your weeping hole.
You hear Soobin inhale before pausing. He shifts backwards before a hot, wet trail of liquid meet your puffy lips. The needy moan that erupts from your mouth when you realise Soobin’s spat on you again — specifically your pussy, turns you on immensely.
“Tell me if it hurts.” Soobin comments as he guides his cock with his hand. He use the fleshy tip to spread the wetness over your folds, gathering them on the bulbous tip so it makes it easier for him to press into your fluttering hole.
The hand on the palm of your ass smooths to your lower back. You instinctively arch further into the mattress, proving him a better view of your messy pussy. He groans as he presses in, relishing in the way your wet cunt immediately sucks him in.
The stinging is delicious. The way the tears poke at your eyes as you clench them shut would make Soobin cum on the spot if he could see your face. You press your face into the pillows, gasping as he inches in slowly.
“Doing okay, love?” Soobin asks as he stops halfway. You nod against the pillow, biting your lip to swallow any hisses. The stretch does burn but the reward after is too enticing to stop him. Soobin leans forward a bit, accidentally pushing in more as he tries to catch a glance of your face, “Words, baby.”
“G-Good! Keep going, Soob. Need it bad!” You squeal as he inches in more. Your legs want to flail but you ground yourself by biting at the pillow you’ve forced your head into.
Soobin bottoms out swiftly. The base of his hips sit snug against your ass as he allows you a moment to breathe. The way your walls clench rapidly around his cock makes the hand on your back slip to grab at your waist. He holds the flesh firmly between his fingers.
“‘M gonna cum if you keep doing that.” He confesses breathlessly. You whimper out an apology as you try to calm your racing heart.
“Move. It’s okay.” You give Soobin the green light to move.
He rocks his hips slowly. Your eyes almost roll back at how big he is. Soobin doesn’t seem to understand that he is bigger than average because the amount of times you have to tell him he can’t just jackhammer into you from start to finish is astonishing. He doesn’t seem to understand that you barely squeeze him into your cunt before he’s almost breaking into your cervix. Poor guy just wants to make you feel good.
He sighs, both hands finding home on your hips as he finds his rhythm. His thighs slap against the back of your legs, filling the void silence in the room as he slowly speeds up.
Your legs shake. His stupidly big cock practically abuses your gspot, punching and drilling it stupid. Even at the slower pace the mushroom tip makes your toes curl like you’re about to cum on the spot.
“Faster!” You command greedily as you press your hips against Soobin’s. Soobin takes your word for it as he begins to press harder, transferring his weight to the grip on your hips so he can thrust harder.
The bruising placement of his hands makes your mouth water. The thought of him leaving imprints of his hands on the soft flesh like a silent marking of ‘Soobin was here.’ is dirtily tantalising.
“Always so tight. You sure you can take me?” Soobin muses as he thrusts harder. The sounds filling the room are a perverts fantasy. Between the sound of slick skin slapping, obscene squelching and pornographic moans alongside the softest dirty talk would have any person sweating.
You pant and wriggle, hips pushing back to meet Soobin. The plush of your ass slaps against the skin of Soobin’s hips leaving soft little stings in its wake. He slides a hand from your hip to messily play with your clit. You cry as he punches hastily, the force of his thrusts making his hand slip and pull at the sensitive skin.
“‘M gonna cum!” You warn as Soobin continues to draw messy figure 8’s on your clit. He pants as he chases the orgasm, legs and arms burning as he wills himself to keep going.
The sweat that was building on his hairline falls down his face in small streaks and he groans as he flicks his head back. The strands of his hair stick to the sweaty skin, casting a shadow across his face.
“Go ahead, love. Come.” Soobin keens when you clamp down a little firmer than usual. The spasms of your sensitive walls leads him to a quicker release but he refuses to come before you do.
You yelp as a specifically hard thrust makes your vision dot “Fuck! Mhmph!! Soobin — Ha-ah, shit!”
“You sound like a pornstar.” Soobin manages to speak past the whiny whimper that escaped him when the first spirt of his cum shoots into your walls. He spews apologies when he can’t hold it back, fucking you like a pocket pussy as he chases his relief.
You’re practically melted onto the sheets when you come. Whether it’s from Soobin’s off handed comment or the searing hot feeling of his cum costing your walls, one last clench around his bulbous cock and you’re cumming like a whiny bitch.
Soobin lets you ride it out despite his sensitive nature. The sounds that escape him are more adjacent to his usual tone during sex, soft and needy. The slamming of his hips has slowed to a rocking pace. You both hiss as his sensitive heads prods at your spongy spot.
“You did.. so good for me.” Soobin exhales faintly. He slowly pulls out and your walls clench uncomfortably at the feeling. His hands detach themselves from your body as you fully embrace the soft bedding below you. Getting caught up in the heat of the moment made you forget about how hot you are. The warm flush radiates form your body as you both separate for cool air.
You shift, turning so you can face Soobin. He settles against the pillow next to you, facing the ceiling as he catches his breath.
“What got into you?” You ask with a trace of a laugh. Soobin snickers as he rolls his neck softly. He just shrugs.
