when they ask 'what size pussy you wear' - enhypen
pairing: enhypen x uterus having reader (heeseung refers to his reader as a lady)
genre: is 'snail's humor' a genre? ¯\_༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽_/¯ if no then it's just crack
au: established relationship
warnings: crude language? the words pussy and cock/dick are used, pet names, im on a 'bully jake' streak oops, riki says the word pussy im sorry vhghjkf
a/n: im so sorry idk why i'm like this
a/n: ♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!
♡ masterlist
all rights reserved jayparked 10/11/24 do not copy, repost, or translate
BABIOT LMFAOOOOOO PLEASE snail i hope u never die u literally have the best kind of humor. i can always count on u to make me genuinely laugh pls im laughing so hard
the funny thing about secrets is that they’re both thrilling and impossible to hide forever.
especially when your secret is nishimura riki. aka the school’s resident jokester, class clown, and the very boy your best friends won’t stop gushing about for you. everyone knew you had the biggest crush on him. it wasn’t really a secret anymore.
every time riki passed by, your friends would elbow you, whispering things like, “he looked at you again!” or “you’re blushing!” while you’d roll your eyes and mumble something about coincidences.
what they didn’t know, though, was that riki had already been yours for months.
it started small. little things that would’ve gone unnoticed to anyone else. the way he’d linger at your locker a bit too long after making some dumb joke. the way he’d wait for you after class, pretending it was just coincidence that you were heading in the same direction. the way his teasing softened when it was just the two of you. you didn’t mean for it to happen this way. it just did.
he’d say something that made you laugh so hard you had to hide your face, and he’d look at you with that grin, half proud, half fond. then suddenly you’d find yourselves texting late into the night, your messages stretching on until your phone was warm in your hand and your eyelids felt heavy.
and before you even realized it, you were sneaking off together. the first few times were harmless. quick glances across classrooms. secret smiles between rows. “accidental” walks home that lasted way too long.
but then came the greenhouse. the old greenhouse sat behind the school, quiet and half forgotten. you and riki had stumbled upon it one afternoon when the day was too warm to stay inside. since then, it had become your secret meeting spot.
you’d slip away after class, pretending you were headed to the library. he’d already be there leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, sunlight catching in his hair.
“you’re late,” he’d whisper when he saw you. “you texted me two minutes ago,” you’d whisper back, trying not to smile. “still late,” he’d tease, tugging gently on your bag strap until you were close enough for him to press his forehead against yours.
sometimes he’d steal a quick kiss before you could even react, just to see the way your cheeks flushed. “ki!” you’d whisper, swatting his arm. he’d laugh quietly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “can’t help it, you look cute when you’re nervous.”
from there, things only got bolder. like the nights he’d sneak into your room through the window. you’d always hear that quiet tap tap tap before seeing him perched outside, hoodie up, grin wide.
“you could just use the door, you know,” you’d whisper as you opened the window. “and ruin the fun?” he’d say, swinging his legs over and landing softly on your carpet.
you’d shake your head, laughing softly as he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “missed you,” he’d mumble, and even though you’d seen him just hours ago at school, your heart would skip anyway.
tonight was no different. the moonlight spilled through your curtains, soft and silver, painting lazy patterns on your walls. riki was sprawled across your bed, one arm under his head, the other lazily tracing circles on your hip.
you were lying half on top of him, cheek resting against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. he’d been telling you some story about how he pranked one of his friends earlier that day, but his voice had started to slow, words blending into soft hums as sleep tugged at him.
“you know,” he murmured, voice heavy with sleep, “your window’s getting louder. one day your mom is gonna catch me.”
you smiled, fingers playing with the hem of his hoodie. “then stop sneaking in.” he scoffed dramatically, turning his head to look at you. “and miss my favorite part of the day? no chance.”
you laughed quietly, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers slipped into your hair, gently combing through the strands. the sound of his breathing mixed with the soft hum of the night outside, and for a moment, it felt like the world had gone perfectly still.
then your phone started buzzing. you groaned softly, reaching for it on the nightstand. “who’s calling this late?” riki tilted his head to peek, a smirk already forming. “your best friends.”
you sighed, already sensing chaos. you answered, and the screen immediately filled with the excited chaos of your group chat. “y/n! we heard the biggest news ever!” they screamed in unison.
you sat up a little, keeping the camera high so riki was out of sight. “what news? tell me now!” you said, playing along.
one of your friends grinned mischievously. “okay, soooo rumor has it that riki also likes you!”
you froze for a second, biting your lip to hide your smile. beside you, riki was already grinning, clearly enjoying every second of this.
“wait, really?” you said, feigning surprise. “yes!” another friend yelled. “apparently he told one of his friends! everyone’s talking about it!”
“wait really?” riki said loudly, leaning right into the frame with a surprise grin. “because i heard the same rumor!”
your friends gasped, one of them actually screamed, and before anyone could recover, riki takes your chin and presses a kiss to your lips.
it was soft at first, playful, like he was daring you to stop him. then his hand slid to your jaw, and he deepened it. slow, deliberate, before reaching over and hanging up mid kiss. the sound of your friends’ shouting cut off with a click.
you pulled back just slightly, breathless, eyes wide. “ki—” but he only smiled, lips still brushing yours, and kissed you again, slower this time.
“shhh,” he whispered against your mouth, voice low and warm. “that’s not important anymore.”
your fingers curled into the front of his hoodie as his thumb brushed over your cheek, his touch soft but grounding. he pulled you even closer, his laughter melting into the quiet between you.
“they’re gonna freak out,” you managed to murmur when you finally broke apart. he chuckled quietly, nose brushing yours. “let them. i only care about you right now.”
your heart fluttered as you smiled up at him, the glow of the fairy lights making his eyes shine. you leaned in again, his breath catching just before your lips met, soft, familiar, perfect.
the phone lay forgotten on the bed beside you, the screen still lit with messages that neither of you cared to read.
in that moment, with rikis arms around you and his lips tracing lazy, tender kisses against your skin, it didn’t matter who found out tomorrow. because right now, it was just you and him and the secret that felt a little less like hiding, and a little more like home.
BRUH!? FLUFF ABOUT SOFT-DOM NIKI IN AN AMERICAN HIGH SCHOOL AU AND Y/N GF!?!??! That was SOOO good like damn it j wish we had more "nikis" in my hometowm😭😭🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 100% recommended, short and so refreshing🤭✨️💞
i won’t be opening a separate taglist for the trilogy series — it’ll only be included under my permanent taglist. 💌
AMERICAN WEDDING — pjs
You never imagined your next mission would come with a wedding ring. Disguised under the alias Mrs. Park, you’re ordered to infiltrate the glamorous yet perilous world of international street racing to protect Park Jongseong—a golden boy champion whose sponsors are secretly involved in a global money-laundering operation.
But the real threat isn’t the criminals you’re hunting—it’s the man you’re pretending to love and the way your heart stutters when he looks at you.
content tags and warnings: racer! jay x agent! reader. romcom and action, arranged marriage trope, jay is unintentionally pathetic and funny delusional man, mentions of murder and death, downbad jay, reader don't give a fuck, jay is portrayed as spoiled brat, kinda brat tamer reader nyehehe. MORE WILL BE ADDED.
PARADISE IN SEOUL CITY — psh
After surviving a near-fatal suicide mission, Park Sunghoon wants nothing more than a quiet, uneventful vacation that is far from danger, far from his duty.
But peace becomes a luxury he can't afford when fate throws you, the former Miss Universe Korea, into his path. Stripped of your fame, money and place to stay, you find yourself stranded in the same remote paradise Sunghoon chose to disappear in.
Unbeknownst to you both, a ruthless syndicate is tracking your every move, waiting for the perfect movement to strike. With danger closing in, Sunghoon is forced (again) to step out of his self-imposed retirement and risk everything to protect someone he never meant to care about.
content tags and warnings: agent! sunghoon x former beauty queen! reader, romcom and action, nonchalant x ball of sunshine trope, sunghoon is a former jiu jutsu athlete and has a big biceps (yum), mentions of violence, guns and death, reader is a simp at what sunghoon do and she's kinda weird about it, sunghoon is pissed every damn time, MORE WILL BE ADDED.
MADE IN JAPAN — nrk
After abandoning his past, Nishimura Riki swore never to return to the city that once shaped and shattered him. Now a government assassin, he’s known for his lack of mercy. His latest assignment should have been simple: eliminate the heir of Japan’s most powerful Yakuza clan.
But fate has a cruel sense of humor. The heir is you—the woman he once loved and lost. And In a world where blood and love demand equal payment, only one of you can walk away unscathed.
content tags and warnings: agent! riki x yakuza! reader, action, rom and angst, lovers to exes to enemies trope, mentions of death, murder and violence, MORE WILL BE ADDED.
OH MY DAYSSSS I CAN ALREADY FEEL THE BUTTERFLIES IN MY STOMACH 😆🤭🤭 The descriptions are sooo good, the images you chose and the titles... GIRL IM ALL FOR ITTTT😝😝😝🔥🔥🔥 I CAN FEEL HOW ITS GONNA BE ONE OF THE BEST LATE-NIGHT READS🤤🤤🤤
⋆.𐙚 ̊ Summary:
Your best friend moves abroad and leaves you stuck with her younger brother — the same younger brother you’ve been lowkey avoiding because he’s hot and off-limits. Cue guinea pig babysitting, late-night calls, accidental sleepovers, and way too much tension to keep pretending you don’t want him.
✧˚⋆｡˚ Word Count: 10.3k
°⋆*:･Tags: Fluff, slowburn, yearning, semi-forbidden romance, noona!OC, 2 year age gap, best friend’s brother trope, smut tags: size kink, praise kink, heavy marking (scratching, hickeys)
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ A/N: goodbye hiatus, hello Tumblr !! I’m back, this was written on my tablet (which is new for me), so hopefully the structure is fine! Anyways something slightly different and shorter from me.
Find more from me here.
You’ve been stuck in the same row of molded plastic chairs for nearly an hour, and you’re fairly certain your tailbone will file a complaint as soon as you stand up. The fluorescent lights hum faintly overhead, mixing with the steady chatter of travelers and the occasional burst of an overhead announcement.
You blow out a raspberry and glance sideways at the two siblings flanking you.
“Stop being such a pain, Riki,” your bestie mutters, tugging her hoodie tighter.
“Bro,” he sighs, rolling his eyes with dramatic flair, “how am I being a pain by looking out for you?” He turns his head toward you, catching your gaze before you can dart away. “Right?” His lips twitch into a half-smirk. “Tell her she’s being unreasonable.”
He says your name, and you hate how your stomach does a little flip at the sound. You smooth down the legs of your baggy jeans, trying to look busy.
“Oh no,” you say, forcing a laugh as you rise from your seat. “I’m not getting in the middle of this.”
“Wait, where are you going?” Annie asks you.
“Bathroom.”
“Well, hold up. I’m coming with you.”
The two of you weave down a long hallway, the floor echoing with the click of wheeled suitcases and the squeak of sneakers against polished tiles. The bathroom door swings open with a creak, revealing a surprisingly spacious interior, bright and a little too sterile with its lemon-scented cleaner.
“Woah, it’s bigger than it looks,” she says, before ducking into one of the stalls.
You do the same, then rejoin her at the sinks a few minutes later. The automatic faucet sputters to life under your hands, the water too hot. As you reach for the coarse paper towels, her phone pings.
She frowns, brows knitting as she reads over the notification.
“What’s up? Who is it?” you ask, leaning over just as you’re drying your hands.
“Ugh, Sammie,” she groans, shoving the screen toward you. “She wants to know if Riki’s single. Gross. As if.”
You can’t help but laugh, though you quickly cover it with a cough. “Well, I mean… he is kind of—”
“Don’t even say it,” she cuts in, glaring at you in the mirror. “It’s disgusting how obsessed some of my friends get with him. Like, yeah, he’s decent-looking, but he’s my little brother. They don’t get how weird it feels.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, nodding along, guilt pricking at your ribs like pins.
She sighs, tucking her phone away and shaking her head. “Promise me you won’t ever be one of them. I couldn’t handle it if my best friend tried to hit on him.”
Your throat goes dry, but you force a smile. “Promise.”
Back at the gate, the final boarding call echoes overhead, and after a flurry of hugs and teary goodbyes, Annie pulls you aside for one last word. Her suitcase handle rattles behind her as she leans in close.
“Look out for Riki, okay? Make sure he doesn’t eat junk all the time. You know how he is.”
You nod, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “Yeah. Of course.”
A few feet away, she corners her brother. He stands with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, trying to look unbothered.
“And you,” she says firmly, poking his chest. “Check in on her. She overworks herself and won’t admit it. Don’t let her run herself into the ground.”
Riki huffs, muttering, “Yeah, yeah,” but his eyes flicker toward you just for a second.
You stand by Rikis side as Annie disappears past the gate, her carry-on bumping against her heels until she rounds the corner and is gone. The crowd swallows her easily, like she was never here at all.
It was supposed to be a slight relocation, just a temporary move for work. That’s what she’d kept insisting, brushing it off like it was no big deal. But the not-knowing, plus the fact that there isn’t a set return date… it makes the goodbye ache heavier.
You find yourself staring too long at the empty space she left behind, fighting the urge to chase after her and squeeze in just one more hug. Your tailbone throbs from those awful plastic chairs, but the hollowness inside feels worse. You shouldn’t feel this untethered. She’ll call. She’ll text. But still—
“You look like someone died,” Riki’s voice cuts into your thoughts. He’s watching you with that half-bored, half-amused look that makes it impossible to know if he’s joking or serious. “Relax. It’s Annie, she’ll be back in no time.”
You blink, snapping out of it, lips parting to argue before he adds casually, “Besides, aren’t you on guinea pig duty this week?”
The corner of his mouth quirks up, like he knows exactly what he’s doing — tugging you out of your spiral, grounding you with something small and ridiculous. You exhale a laugh despite yourself.
“Oh no,” you grin at him, “don’t try to hand them over already, you and I both know-“
Riki cuts you off, his shoulder bumping into you, as you two walk towards the parking lot, “we both know Annie made us a schedule yes,” he laughs at the ridiculousness of this situation.
Baby-sitting two bonded guinea pigs is the last thing one would expect two adults in their early 20’s to be doing, yet here you are. Co-parenting two tiny animals. And despite yourself you can’t shake the smile off your face. Even as you step in the passenger seat.
The drive starts quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space while the city lights smear past the windows. You sit a little too straight in your seat, hands knotted in your lap, and every so often you mumble another “thanks” for driving, for waiting, for hauling Annie’s bag.
By the fourth one, Riki lets out a laugh under his breath. “Do you say thank you this much to everyone, or is it just me?”
You whip your head toward him. “What? No, I—”
He cuts you a sideways look, smirk tugging at his mouth. “Feels like I’m chauffeuring a grandma. Or, I don’t know, the queen.”
Your face heats instantly. “I’m just being polite.”
“Too polite.” He drums his fingers against the steering wheel, like he’s thinking it over. Then, casually “What, do I make you nervous?”
Your pulse stumbles. “N-no. Why would you think that?”
He huffs out a laugh, clearly pleased. “You sound like you’re about to faint every time you open your mouth.”
You gape at him, then snap your head forward, staring hard at the windshield. “I do not.”
“Mm,” he hums, unconvinced, still smirking. He doesn’t push it further, but the silence that follows isn’t the same as before. It crackles, alive, every breath loud in your ears.
For the first time all night, you’re hyperaware of how small the car feels.
The drive stretches on, headlights washing over the empty highway. By the time you’re close to the city, you realize Annie’s probably midair, and it hits you again that she’s gone, at least for now.
Riki breaks the silence, again. “Her flight’s, what, three hours? By the time we’re back, she’ll be landing.” He doesn’t phrase it like a question, just drops it like a fact. “I’ll walk you up to your apartment. Then we’ll call her together.”
You part your lips to protest or at least remind him you never actually agreed to that but he cuts you a quick glance, the corner of his mouth twitching like he already knows what you’ll say.
“Don’t argue. It makes sense.”
You sink back into the seat, muttering under your breath about him being bossy. Still, a tiny part of you relaxes. He’s right. And maybe you don’t hate the idea of him following you upstairs.
A beat of silence, then he nudges his chin toward the center console. “Put your address in. GPS.”
You hesitate, then reach for the screen. He does too. His hand lands on the edge of the console at the same time yours hovers over it, your knuckle brush… the touch brief, but enough to jolt a spark up your arm.
You freeze.
He doesn’t pull away, just smirks, leaning in close enough that his shoulder presses against yours as his finger taps the screen. “You type like an old lady,” he murmurs, watching the letters fill in.
Your breath catches. His cologne, a clean, sharp and a little dizzying scent fills the space between you. You bite your lip, lashes slightly fluttering, and glance up at him. “Wow, so I’m the old lady now? Should I start knitting or something?”
The teasing noticeably flusters him, and you smirk at his reaction. He blinks, a little caught off guard, and his smirk falters for the briefest second. “Wait… what?” He clears his throat, suddenly aware of how close you are. “I-I didn’t mean it like—”
“Relax,” you murmur, eyes darting down, cheeks heating. “Just making sure you know I can play back at you, too.”
Riki shakes his head, exhaling sharply through his nose, still smirking but a little more awkward now. “Right. Yeah… noted.” His fingers drum nervously against the wheel for a beat, then he leans back, though his gaze keeps flicking to you.
The GPS chirps to life just then, but your pulse hasn’t slowed.
You drive in mostly silence for the remainder of the drive with J. Cole softly playing through the car radio. Once near your place you direct Riki to the best parking spot for the visitors.
And then he’s following after you into the apartment building. The elevator doors slide open with a quiet ding, and the space inside feels suddenly smaller than it should. The metal walls reflect the two of you, close, your shoulders almost brushing.
Riki shifts behind you, leaning just enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. The faint scent of his cologne lingers, clean and sharp, and it makes your chest tighten.
“Interesting buttons,” he murmurs, nudging forward slightly so his hand hovers just behind yours. The proximity is electric. Your fingers brush as you press the button, and you flinch, heat rushing to your ears.
“Careful,” you murmur, heart thudding. “You might give me a heart attack.”
He smirks, eyebrow quirking. “Or maybe I like seeing you flustered.”
You glance back, meeting his eyes in the mirrored wall, and the corner of his mouth quirks into that knowing smile. You almost stumble over your words. “I… I’m not that easy to fluster.”
“No?,” he hums, unconvinced, leaning just slightly closer again. Your pulse leaps. Every movement feels magnified in the narrow space, even the slight brush of his arm as he shifts weight makes your stomach flutter.
By the time the elevator dings at your floor, your hands are shaking a little, and you realize just how aware you are of him — the way he smells, the warmth of his body, the sharp glint in his eye.
You step into the hallway, fumbling with your keys. He’s close enough that your shoulders brush when you turn to pull the door open, and for a heartbeat, the air between you feels charged with possibility.
“Well, here’s me,” you say, cheeks warming, fumbling to step aside. “It’s… small, but it’s home.”
Riki doesn’t answer immediately. He kicks off his shoes, lingering near the threshold, eyes flicking to yours with that same smirk. The moment stretches and your chest hammers, because for just a second, it feels like the room is smaller and your bodies are closer than they should be.
But then his gaze flickers to your place. The kitchen and living room are one open space, small but cozy. A tiny round table sits tucked into the corner, two mismatched chairs shoved beneath it. The counter is speckled with a few stray mugs, a half-open cookbook leaning against the wall, and a small potted plant that’s surprisingly thriving despite your sometimes-forgetful nature.
Two doors punctuate the walls; one leads to a tiny bathroom, its mirror streaked faintly from last night’s shower, the other opens into your bedroom. The wood floors creak softly beneath your steps, and the warm glow from a single lamp casts long, inviting shadows.
Finally, you step in fully, locking the door behind you. Riki steps into your living room and soon he’s sprawled on your couch like he owns the place, long legs stretched out, while you fuss with the video call setup. You’re perched on the rug, back against the couch.
When Annie’s face finally appears on the screen, pixelated but familiar, a wave of relief floods your chest. You place your laptop on the table and move to sit up. Riki sits next to you and soon you three are smiling at each other.
“Hey!” she beams, hair a little messy from travel but her energy the same as always. “You guys made it back safe?”
“Yeah,” Riki answers easily, leaning closer into frame. His shoulder brushes yours, casual but warm enough that you’re suddenly hyperaware of the contact.
The call continues, you asking Annie about her flight, her hotel room. At one point, Riki leans in again, deliberately too close, to make some dry remark that has you snorting laughter. Annie raises a brow.
“Wow,” she says, smirking faintly. “You two get along better than I thought.”
The comment hangs in the air.
Your laughter dies in your throat, replaced by a nervous flutter in your stomach. You glance at Riki, trying to read if he took it the same way you did, but he just smirks at the screen like nothing’s out of place.
“Relax, Annie. You really thought we’d fall apart the second you left?”
You paste on a smile for Annie, hoping she can’t see the heat crawling up your neck. Guilt coils tighter in your chest, because she’d brought it up so lightly, and because you wish it didn’t feel like she might be right.
The three of you chat some more, with Annie showing you and Riki her accommodations, and her sharing her schedule for the week. Before you know it the call ends and Riki leaves. You thought about offering him dinner, but Annie’s comment still looms over you. Leading to a quick departure.
Throughout the next couple of days you spiral. You catch yourself counting down the days when you’ll see Riki again. The next video call (just a mere three days later) you keep catching yourself staring at him, did he get his hair dyed? You couldn’t really tell with the beanie covering most of his head. You try not to stare but, it doesn’t help that you feel like he kept staring at you as well.
The next day, while you’re commuting home from work, you see a follow request from him on insta. Suddenly you’re hyper aware of your heartbeat and now you’re overthinking how long should you wait before accepting it and following him back.
You don’t last long.
Before your stop you’ve already followed him back and stalked most of his profile. His feed is effortlessly cool, with sleek shots of modern architecture, sunlit streets, casual outfits that somehow look curated, and occasional dance clips that you definitely don’t bookmark. There’s also one selfie, posted just a day ago. His hair is a bright, icy blonde, that’s slicked back to reveal his shaved sides, it’s styled perfectly and it’s exactly the kind of look that makes your stomach flutter even as you try to be subtle. You don’t notice you’re biting your lip as you scroll, lost in the little details that make him… him.
You nearly miss your stop, slamming the stop button just in time and rushing off the metro.
Nothing happens that night. But the next morning, you wake up to a DM from Riki. Your heart races as you open it.
It’s a photo. Sent just twenty minutes ago.
You tap to view it. The image shows the two guinea pigs sitting side by side (in what you assume is Riki’s bed), one nuzzling the other, looking wide-eyed and curious. Riki’s caption reads, playful and teasing:
"Your future tenants are ready for inspection… Auntie’s place better be ready for these two troublemakers tomorrow 🐹🐹"
You can’t help the laugh that escapes your throat, your cheeks warming, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you type a reply.
"Guess that makes me responsible… better make sure you’re pulling your weight, Uncle Riki 🐹"
It takes less than a minute for the typing dots to appear.
“Relax. I’ll even set an alarm for 5am so you get the full experience. Cosmo and Wanda don’t believe in sleep.”
You roll your eyes, grinning despite yourself. The two of you keep messaging back and forth the rest of the day; dumb jokes, more photos of the two piggies, the occasional jab about how unprepared you probably are. When you finally put your phone down that night, you’re smiling into your pillow like an idiot.
But when morning comes, there’s no Riki at your door at dawn. He doesn’t show up until well into the afternoon, cage in hand and smug grin firmly in place. His freshly dyed hair covered by a beanie, huge black hoodie engulfed his frame, and suddenly you felt star-struck for a moment.
“Some alarm,” you tease, ushering him inside.
He just shrugs, setting the guinea pigs on the table. “Hey, I needed my beauty sleep. You’ll thank me for it.”
Then he surprises you by going into full responsible mode, explaining their setup: an open pen with hay and water, how they’re free-roaming most of the time, how they’re puppy pad trained, etc. He hands you their toys, before a fond look takes over his face, “these two are basically married,” he says, scratching behind Wanda’s ear while Cosmo wiggles against his palm. “Annoying, loud, and a little dramatic. So… you should get along just fine.”
“Wow, thanks,” you deadpan, though you can’t help smiling as you watch him handle them with practiced care.
“Here, let me show you how to hold them,” he tells you, and then he’s by your side, slightly hunching so he doesn’t tower over you.
You focus on breathing normally and try not to stare at his huge hands as he holds the small piglet between his palms.
“One of your hands should be right behind the front paws,” he cups your hand and gently places it under the piglet, “and the other-“ he starts, guiding your hand under the piggies bum.
“Oh,” you softly say once he carefully lets go, and suddenly you’re holding a guinea pig.
“Oh my gosh, they seemed way smaller when you were holding them,” you note. The piglet squeaks just then, and you carefully place it back on the floor.
Riki smirks, leaning back on his heels. “Nah, they just look smaller next to you. Everything does… makes me wonder how you’d handle anything bigger.”
You laugh under your breath. “Bold of you to assume I’d even let you test that theory.”
Riki freezes for half a beat, then scoffs, trying to play it off “Oh please, you’d fold in two seconds.”
You shrug, fighting back a smile, “Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t too bad you won’t find out, anyways want some tea?”
“Sure,” he says, a smile stretching over his face as if he knows he’s got you.
You head for the kettle, the smell of tea leaves filling the small kitchen. By the time you hand him his cup, he’s already wandered over, peering into your fridge.
He groans. “Do you actually live here? There’s, like, nothing to eat. What is this- heavy cream, pickles, and… are those mushrooms?”
You laugh, covering your face with one hand. “Don’t judge me.”
“I already am,” he says, triumphant. Then, softer, almost offhand “No wonder Annie told me to look out for you.”
Your breath catches at that. Annie always worries over you, but hearing it from him, his voice teasing but touched with something more, warms you in a way you weren’t prepared for.
You clear your throat, trying to shake it off. “Well, jokes on you, I’ve got everything for pasta. Chicken, mushrooms, cream. We just need to cook it.”
That makes him perk up instantly, mischief flickering across his face. “Oh yeah? Show me, then. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Somehow, you’re standing side by side at the counter, chopping vegetables while he hums under his breath. His movements are quick, precise, like he’s done this a hundred times before. You steal a glance at the way his blonde hair falls into his eyes, how easily he fits into your too-small kitchen, like he belongs there.
But then he glances up at the exact moment you’re staring.
Your knife stills, and heat rushes up your neck. You look away too fast, pretending to focus on the cutting board.
He smirks. “What? Got caught admiring me?”
Your laugh comes out nervous, bubbling. “Please. You wish.”
“Mm.” He leans a little closer, voice dropping just slightly. “You’re blushing, though.”
“I’m not!” you protest, and that only makes him grin wider.
And then, without meaning to, you’re laughing too. It’s the kind that shakes your shoulders, the kind you can’t quite stop. It eases the charge in the air, leaving behind something warmer, more comfortable.
By the time the food is ready, the apartment smells rich and cozy, steam curling from the plates you carry to the couch. You sit shoulder to shoulder, a random movie playing in the background, guinea pigs squeaking softly occasionally.
And for a moment, it doesn’t feel like babysitting Annie’s pets, or filling the silence she left behind. It just feels… easy.
The pasta is good. Better than you expected. Riki insists it’s because he handled the important parts; you insist it’s because you boiled the noodles perfectly. It turns into another round of playful banter, laughter bubbling out of you until your cheeks ache.
And then, in a quiet moment between jokes, you realize how natural it feels. How easy it is to have him here. Which makes the guilt creep in sharp and sudden. Annie’s voice echoing in your head, her pointed warnings about her brother. You tell yourself that it’s just sahring one meal together, that it’s not a big deal.
Still, when the movie starts, you don’t sit all the way apart. The couch is small, and maybe that’s why your legs end up brushing now and then, knees grazing when you both shift for more room. You tell yourself it’s nothing, but each faint touch sparks something warm in your chest.
At one point, you lean into the cushions, laughing at some dry remark he makes. His shoulder bumps yours, just enough to linger before he pretends to stretch, like he didn’t notice. You pretend not to notice either, though your skin tingles where it pressed against his.
And so dinner fades into the background, your plates half-finished on the table while the movie hums low. You’re curled close, not quite cuddling but close enough that you’re hyperaware of the space between you, and how easy it would be to close it.
You’re mid-laugh when you hear it… the first soft patter of rain against the window.
At first, it’s nothing. Just a drizzle, background noise behind the dialogue on screen. But soon it’s louder, steadier, until you can hardly hear the movie over the sharp rhythm of it pelting against the glass.
“Damn,” you murmur, leaning forward to peek outside. The streetlights blur in the downpour, everything beyond the glass a streaky, storm-soaked haze. “It’s coming down hard.”
Riki follows your gaze, stretching to glance past you at the window. His arm brushes yours again as he leans, closer this time, his voice low. “Yeah… it’s kinda crazy.”
A flash of lightning forks across the sky, thunder rolling in right after. The guinea pigs squeak nervously in their pen, rustling the hay.
You turn back to him, biting your lip before blurting without thinking, “If it doesn’t calm down, you should just crash here.”
The words hang in the air.
Riki blinks at you, caught mid-sip of his tea. He almost chokes, setting the mug down a little too fast. “...What?”
You shrug, pretending at nonchalance though your pulse skips. “I mean—think about it. You’d be soaked before you even made it to the bus stop. It’s not a big deal. Couch is right there.”
His ears pink, just barely visible under the messy fall of his blonde hair. “You’re… seriously telling me to stay over?”
You roll your eyes, nudging his leg with your foot. “Don’t make it weird. I’m just saying it’s safer.”
“Yeah, but—” He breaks off, fumbling for words, then leans back against the cushions like he’s trying to play it cool. “You’re acting like you’re not gonna regret that invite in the morning when I eat all your cereal.”
“Joke’s on you,” you shoot back. “I don’t even have cereal.”
That earns a laugh out of him, quiet but real, the tension easing just enough. The rain pounds harder, sealing the deal without another word.
You fetch an extra blanket, tossing it toward him. He catches it awkwardly, still smirking but with a faint crease in his brow, like he’s not sure what to do with himself now.
“Guess you’re stuck with me, then,” he says softly.
The words make your chest tighten in ways you don’t want to examine.
“Okay, well—” you push up from the couch, brushing nonexistent lint from your sweatpants just to keep your hands busy. “If you’re staying, you should at least wash up. I might have something for you to change into.”
He blinks, looking almost.. shy? He nods. “Uh… yeah, sure.”
In your bedroom, you rummage through drawers until your hand snags on something unfamiliar. A pair of old gray sweats. You don’t even remember keeping them until you realize they must’ve been left behind by your ex. Your stomach twists, but before you can overthink it, you grab them anyway—along with a massive Hello Kitty shirt you sometimes wear to sleep. Oversized, ridiculous, probably perfect for Riki’s taller build.
When you return, Riki’s still on the couch, scrolling absently on his phone. He looks up as you hold out the clothes. “These should fit. Maybe. The pants, might be uh… a bit small.”
He takes them from you, holding the sweats up by the waistband with a raised brow. “These aren’t… your boyfriend’s, are they?”
Your laugh comes out a little too fast. “Oh—no. No boyfriend. They’re just… old.” You wave it off. “Don’t worry about it.”
Something flickers across his face. He shifts, scratching the back of his neck like he’s debating whether to say what’s on his mind. Finally, he mumbles, almost too casually “Yeah. Well… I don’t have a girlfriend either.”
The air stills. For a beat, neither of you moves, his dark eyes holding yours like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction. Your throat feels tight, a strange heat crawling up your neck.
You force yourself to break eye contact first, pressing the clothes against his chest with a soft cough. “Well. Guess you should wash up first, then.”
For the briefest moment, his lips twitch into a small smile, almost shy.
“Yeah,” he says, voice lower now. “Guess I should.”
When he disappears into the bathroom, you exhale a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
By the time he returns, damp hair falling into his eyes and your oversized Hello Kitty t-shirt fitting him perfectly, if not a bit tightly (but you’re not complaining), you can’t decide whether you want to laugh or hide under the blanket forever.
You follow suit, going into the bathroom now that he’s out. But as soon as you reach your room you overthink.
All your drawers are open, closet doors spread wide and yet. Nothing feels right. Your regular sweats? Too ratty. What if he thought you looked… sloppy? The cute matching set you never wore around anyone? Too much. That would look like you’re trying too hard. You pick up one shirt, toss it aside, grab another, second-guess it immediately.
You groan into your hands. Why is this suddenly so hard?
Before you can unravel further, a knock at your door startles you.
“Yo,” Riki calls, his voice muffled but light. “Everything okay? You’ve been gone kind of a long time and I’m getting bored.”
Your heart kicks. You hesitate, then blurt before you can stop yourself, “I… don’t know what to wear.”
The silence on the other side stretches long enough that you regret every choice that’s led you here. But then his laugh cuts through, warm and sharp.
“You’re getting dressed for my benefit? That’s cute.”
Your cheeks flame. “What? No! I just—ugh, never mind.” You press your forehead to the door, wishing it would swallow you whole.
Another chuckle. Softer this time. “Relax. I’m literally wearing sweats and your Hello Kitty shirt. Pretty sure you’ll look better than me no matter what.”
You bite back a smile despite yourself.
In the end, you settle on simple oversized hoodie, cotton shorts, and knee high socks; it’s lowkey the kind of outfit you’d normally wear when you’re alone. Comfortable and warm. You tug it on, take a steadying breath, and step out before you can overthink it again.
Riki looks up from where he’s sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone. For a second, his eyes skim over you like it’s no big deal, but then he blinks and sits up a little straighter, caught mid-stare.
“What?” you ask, pulling at your sleeve defensively.
He shakes his head quickly, that lopsided grin spreading slow. “Nothing. Just… guess I was right. You make it look easy.”
You roll your eyes to cover the way your pulse leaps. “Don’t get smug about it.”
“Too late,” he says, patting the spot next to him.
You cross the room, tucking yourself under the blanket he left draped across the couch. Riki found some cheesy horror move that flickers on the screen, the storm louder now, but all you can think about is the faint warmth where his shoulder brushes yours. It feels less like there’s a storm outside and more like the quiet pull of something starting inside.
Somewhere between the laughter and the thunder, your shoulders brush. You don’t pull away. Neither does he.
It isn’t charged not really. Just warm. Comforting. Easy in a way that makes you want to stay right there.
And when your head tips, just barely, toward his shoulder, he goes still for a second before relaxing into it.
The storm rages on, but the room feels warm. The guinea pigs shuffle softly in their pen, the screen flickers, and eventually your eyes flutter closed.
By the time sleep takes you, you’re both leaning into each other, the blanket tangled over your legs, his warmth steady beside you.
The guinea pigs squeak louder this time, rustling hay until Cosmo lets out a particularly indignant squeal. You groan into Riki’s shoulder, voice muffled.
“Why are they like this?”
Riki’s laugh is rough with sleep. His head tips against yours, “Told you. They don’t believe in sleep. It’s their thing.”
You both lie there for another minute, the blanket tangled around your legs, the couch creaking under your combined weight. His warmth beside you feels too good to leave, but the cushions dig into your spine, and your foot keeps slipping off the edge.
You exhale, hesitant but practical. “This couch is way too small. We should just… move to the bedroom. It’ll be easier to sleep there.”
That wakes him up a little more. His head shifts off yours, eyes narrowing as he searches your face. “You’re seriously inviting me into your bed? Bold.”
Your cheeks heat. You shove lightly at his shoulder. “Don’t make it weird. It’s just sleep. You’ll thank me when you’re not paralyzed from the waist down.”
He smirks, but you catch the way his ears go pink as he pushes himself upright. “Fine. Lead the way.”
In your room, the sheets are soft, cool against your skin as you both climb in from opposite sides. For a moment, you lie stiff as boards, the space between you like a live wire. You can hear the faint rhythm of his breathing, the occasional creak of the mattress whenever he shifts.
Your mind races. Annie’s voice echoes in your head, her teasing, her warnings. Don’t let anything happen. Don’t even think about it. But it’s impossible not to think about it, not when he’s right there, warm and solid, just inches away.
You roll onto your side, pretending to get comfortable. The movement must give him permission, because he shifts too. Slowly, cautiously, his arm brushes yours under the blanket. Neither of you pulls away.
The air thickens, but neither of you breaks it. You pretend your eyes are shut, pretend your breathing is steady. Still, you can feel him—awake, aware, mirroring your stillness.
And then, almost imperceptibly, he inches closer. His forehead just barely grazes your hairline, his arm settling lightly against your side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Your pulse skitters, but you don’t move. Instead, you let yourself ease into it, curling closer until the space between you disappears.
You both lie there, tangled in quiet, pretending to sleep. But you know he’s awake, you can sense it in the way his breath hitches when you shift, in the way his hand flexes like he’s fighting the urge to hold you properly.
And you’re awake too, heart thrumming against your ribs, wondering if this counts as breaking Annie’s rules or if it’s just what happens when two people can’t pretend anymore.
Two days later, you cave and DM him.
“I swear your married children are trying to starve. They’ve eaten through almost the whole bag already??”
His reply comes in seconds.
“Dw. We’ll go shopping. Is it okay if we go sometime around 9 though.”
You chew your lip, staring at the screen. Around 9? That’s kind of late, but you type back a quick yes before you can overthink it.
When you meet outside, you almost do a double take. Riki’s in baggy jeans and a leather jacket, clean sneakers, hair pushed back just enough to show the sharp cut of his jaw. He doesn’t look like the boy you’ve been sharing tea and pasta with in your tiny kitchen. He looks… older.
“Stop staring,” he teases, nudging your arm as you fall into step beside him.
You huff. “I wasn’t.”
“Sure,” he hums, satisfied, and shoves his hands into his pockets.
The walk to the store is short, the air cool and quiet at this hour. Somewhere between the crosswalk and the corner shop, he mentions it offhand, like it’s nothing.
“My schedule’s kind of a mess lately. Practice runs late.”
“Practice?” you echo.
He cuts you a sideways glance, smirk tugging at his lips. “Dancing. It’s kind of my thing.”
Your brows lift. “Seriously? You never said that.”
“You never asked,” he shoots back, grinning. Then, after a beat he goes, “If you’re free Friday, come watch. You’ll get why I’m always tired.”
You try to play it cool, but your chest flutters anyway. “Maybe I will.”
He hums again, like he already knows you’ll say yes.
In the store, the two of you bicker lightly over brands of hay, his hand brushing yours once as you both reach for the same bag. Neither of you moves away right away.
At the register, you pull your card out first, triumphant. “I’ve got it.”
But before you can even tap, Riki leans over and slides his card across the counter, faster. The cashier takes it without hesitation.
“Hey—” you protest, glaring.
He grins, smug. “Guess you’ll just have to be quicker next time.”
You huff, crossing your arms. “That’s cheating.”
“Not cheating,” he says easily, leaning in just enough for his voice to dip lower, “just winning.”
Your pulse stutters, but you force a smirk. “You’re insufferable.”
“Maybe,” he says, bagging up the hay like he owns the place. “But at least dinner’s on you now.”
By the time you leave, you’re laughing softly, wondering why errands with Riki feel less like chores and more like dates.
Thursday night, your phone buzzes with a notification.
Riki: Don’t forget. Tomorrow, 17:30. Studio’s near Hongdae. Don’t be late.
You bite your lip, smiling at the bluntness. You’re really expecting me to show up? you type back.
The reply comes instantly. Yeah. Who else am I supposed to impress?
Your cheeks heat, and you don’t respond. But you set your alarm anyway.
The studio smells faintly of sweat and wood polish, bass already humming through the floor when you slip inside. You hesitate at the door, nervous you’ll stick out, but Riki notices you almost immediately.
His face lights up. He jogs over, hair already damp at the temples, grinning wide. “You made it.”
“Of course I did,” you murmur, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good.” He smirks, cocky already, and tosses you a water bottle from his bag. “You’re gonna need this. Watching me’s exhausting.”
You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you.
When practice starts, he shifts and it’s like flipping a switch. The teasing boy you know is gone, replaced by someone sharper, steadier, completely in his element. Every move cuts through the beat with precision, sweat slicking his temples, focus written all over his face.
It isn’t just him, either. The whole crew works together, their movements layered and seamless, a rhythm you can feel in your chest. A couple of other friends and girlfriends are seated along the back wall with you, murmuring now and then, but you barely register them. Your eyes keep finding him.
At one point, the choreographer calls for freestyle. Riki doesn’t hesitate, he drops low, spinning into a clean b-boy freeze that earns whoops and cheers from his crew. He pops back up smoothly, grinning through the mirror at you, like he knows you’re watching. Like that one was just for you.
Your stomach flips.
Then the real piece starts. It’s the one they’ve been practicing for, from the way everyone falls into position with extra sharpness. The music is groovy and smooth, R&B pulsing low and steady. It’s polished, ready, you realize with a jolt. Probably their last rehearsal before whatever stage or camera’s waiting.
You catch yourself staring, lips parted before you snap them shut.
And then the partner work begins. A girl from the crew steps forward, sliding easily into sync with him. They move close, coordinated, bodies brushing with the kind of practiced ease that only comes from hours together. The choreography is sensual, meant to be. Too smooth to be accidental.
Something in your chest tightens. You fold your arms across yourself, clapping politely when the song ends, hoping no one notices how quiet you’ve gone.
But Riki notices. Of course he does.
He jogs over, towel draped around his neck, hoodie slung over one arm. His grin is easy, but his eyes flick briefly to your folded arms. “Cold?”
You blink, caught off guard. “What?”
He presses the hoodie into your hands anyway. “Here. You look like you need it more than me.”
You want to protest, but the fabric is warm and soft against your fingers, smelling faintly of his cologne and laundry detergent. You pull it on without another word, sleeves swallowing your hands.
When you look up again, he’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite read. Amusement, maybe. Or something heavier.
Practice wraps late, crew scattering in twos and threes with quick goodbyes. You’re still tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie when Riki falls into step beside you, gym bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hungry?” he asks, like it’s obvious.
You nod, and instead of heading toward the station, he veers left. “C’mon. I’ll show you my favorite spot.”
His favorite ramen shop is tucked into a narrow alley, modern wood paneling lit with warm light. Inside, it’s sleek, clean lines and polished counters, but the small space makes it feel intimate, cozy in a way bigger restaurants never could.
Steam curls from the bowls in front of you, when the waiter places the bowls in front of you two. Riki doesn’t talk much at first, just nudges the chili oil your way and asks if you want an egg in your bowl. The kind of small gestures that make your chest ache more than they should.
Halfway through slurping noodles, the words tumble out of you.
“Is it… normal? For dancers to date each other? Or is it really just dancing?”
His chopsticks pause mid-air. He sets them down slowly, eyes narrowing not in mockery but in something sharper, more searching.
“You mean today?”
Your throat tightens. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—” You shake your head, heat rushing up your neck. “Forget it.”
But he doesn’t let you. His voice softens, low enough that you almost miss it under the hum of the shop. “It’s just dancing. Nothing else.”
You risk a glance at him. He’s not smirking, not teasing. His gaze is steady, almost too much, and for the first time all night, you believe him.
The air shifts. You both keep eating, quieter now, but your hands end up resting on the table, so close your pinkies almost touch. Neither of you moves them away.
The ramen shop is hushed, only a few patrons left, their voices low. Under the table, Riki shifts, his knee brushing yours. Not an accident.
Your gaze drifts up. His smirk is gone, replaced by something heavier. His mouth tilts in a faint half-pout, lips plump and pink from the steam. His eyes are sharp, fixed on you, but there’s a hesitation there too, like he’s caught in the same push and pull as are you.
For a heartbeat, you think he’ll close the distance. His eyes dip to your mouth, just for a second, and the world shrinks to the space between you.
But someone laughs too loud across the room, breaking the spell. You both jerk back, fumbling with chopsticks as if the broth suddenly matters more than the gravity pulling you closer.
Still, your pulse doesn’t settle. When you glance at him again, his half-smile lingers… wistful, frustrated, like he’s thinking the same thing you are.
I wish I could just kiss you right now.
When it’s time to pay, you pull out your card quickly, determined this time. But Riki’s faster, again, sliding his across the counter before you can blink.
“Seriously?” you whisper, pouting. “You already got the groceries.”
He only grins, then and before you can argue reaches out and cups your cheek, squishing gently until your lips push out even poutier. Your breath stutters at the contact, his touch warm and careful, gaze dropping to your mouth, again.
For a second, it feels like the world holds its breath.
Then he exhales, low, steady. “I’m the one who invited you,” he murmurs. “So I’m paying.”
His hand lingers half a beat too long before he pulls away.
You’re still reeling as you step back out into the night. The September night air is crisp, the chill nipping at your cheeks. You tug his hoodie tighter around yourself, sleeves still swallowing your hands.
Riki falls into step beside you, quiet at first. The street is mostly empty, puddles gleaming under the neon glow of a convenience store sign.
Your hands brush once, twice, the faintest spark each time. Neither of you pulls away.
“You look good in that, you know,” he says suddenly, voice casual but eyes flicking down to the hoodie draped over you. “Almost better than me.”
You snort, trying to hide the way your stomach flips. “Doubt it.”
He grins, bumping his shoulder lightly against yours. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
The silence that follows is comfortable, filled only with the sound of your steps and the hum of traffic a few streets over. But then he glances at you again, more serious this time.
“And hey…” He scratches the back of his neck, looking ahead as if the words are hard to get out. “Don’t worry about that partner stuff. It’s just dancing. That’s all it is.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, warmth spreading in your chest despite yourself. “I wasn’t—” you start, but he cuts you off with a small shake of his head.
“You don’t have to explain,” he says simply.
The station comes into view too soon, glowing pale under the streetlamps. You slow your steps, wishing the walk could stretch just a little longer.
When you finally stop, standing at the point where your buses split, you turn to him. His grin is easy, but there’s something else behind it, something that makes your pulse stumble.
“See you,” he says.
“Yeah,” you breathe, tugging his hoodie tighter. “See you.”
Your hands brush one last time before you part ways, and you carry the warmth of it with you all the way home.
The weekend passes in a blur. By Sunday evening, you’re at his doorstep, cage in hand, trading Cosmo and Wanda back like clockwork. You pretend it’s just routine, but the way his smile lingers makes it feel like more. He invites you for a drink, but you decline, needing time to yourself.
The whole week drags, but it’s the worst on Wednesday, it drags like sand through an hourglass. Assignments pile, emails ding, your brain buzzing with things left undone. By the time you finally flop face-first onto your bed, exhaustion pins you down.
Your phone buzzes.
Riki: Don’t overwork yourself.
You groan into your pillow, thumbs fumbling a reply. Too late.
Three dots blink, then: Piggies miss you. Just come over.
You stare at the screen, biting your lip. You should say no; you need to shower, catch up on work, actually sleep. Instead, you find yourself tugging on a jacket and heading for the bus stop.
When you arrive, Cosmo and Wanda squeak loudly from their pen like they’ve been expecting you.
Riki leans in the doorway, arms crossed, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. Behind him, you catch your first real look at his place: high ceilings, dark wood floors that gleam under recessed lighting, gray-toned walls broken up with sleek art and low, modern furniture. It’s elegant but lived-in, the faint scent of cologne and laundry softener grounding it in something undeniably him. A penthouse, you realize, with wide windows framing the glittering city below.
“See? Told you they missed you.”
“You mean you missed me,” you mumble, kicking off your shoes.
His grin widens, but he doesn’t argue.
You tell yourself it’s just a short visit, just to check on them. But one movie turns into two, your body heavier with every passing minute. The cushions cradle you, warmth and fatigue tugging you down until your head tips against the couch’s armrest.
At some point, you shift without realizing, body curling instinctively toward him until you’re half-leaning against his side. Riki glances down, a comment on the tip of his tongue, then stops.
You’re out cold. Completely limp, lips parted in sleep, your cheek resting against his shoulder.
For a moment, he freezes, caught between surprise and something else he doesn’t dare name. Then, with a soft huff, he tosses the blanket aside and carefully slides an arm under your knees, another around your back.
You stir faintly but don’t wake as he lifts you, weight easy against him.
His room is dim, the city lights spilling in through tall windows, dark wood and steel softened by the mess of pillows at the head of his bed. He lowers you onto the mattress as gently as he can, tugging the covers over you once you’re settled.
You sigh in your sleep, curling into the warmth, and something in his chest clenches tight.
He stands there for a moment, watching, running a hand through his hair like he can shake the feeling off. Then he sighs again and slips under the covers on the opposite side, careful to keep space between you. But as the night drags on, that space disappears inch by inch, until the warmth of your back brushes against his chest, and neither of you stirs.
The first thing you register is warmth. Not the kind from blankets, but from the body beside you.
You blink against the soft gray light filtering in through the tall windows, heart lurching when you realize you’re not in your own room. The sheets smell faintly of laundry soap and his cologne. His bed.
You roll slightly, careful not to shift too much. Riki’s still asleep, messy blond hair falling across his forehead, one arm draped loosely over the empty space between you. Like, even in his sleep, he’d been reaching for you.
Something squeezes in your chest. You almost lift a hand, tempted to brush the hair out of his face, but stop just short. Don’t be obvious. Don’t get caught staring—
Too late. His lashes flutter, and he catches you mid-look.
A slow grin spreads across his sleepy face. “Morning.”
Your cheeks blaze. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t staring.”
He shifts closer on the pillow, voice rough with sleep. “Sure you weren’t.”
You roll onto your back, groaning into the ceiling. “You’re impossible.”
He chuckles, low and warm, before pushing himself upright. “C’mon. Lemme make you some breakfast.”
The kitchen matches the rest of his place: sleek lines, dark wood, all clean edges softened by morning light. You perch awkwardly at the counter while he rummages through the fridge, emerging with eggs, milk, and bread.
“I can cook,” he offers.
“Can you?” you deadpan, already cracking an egg one-handed.
His mouth drops open. “Yes, actually.”
“Mm.” You smirks, but slide the pan toward him anyway, watching as Riki scrambles with more determination than skill. When you nearly drop a shell in, he leans in, plucks it from your fingers, and tosses it aside. His shoulder brushes yours, casual but deliberate.
The air shifts. You pretend to focus on stirring, heart pounding as if eggs deserve your entire life’s attention.
By the time the toast pops, you’re both laughing, with his teasing, your mock-glares, the space between you narrowing in ways that feel far too natural.
It’s domestic. Too domestic. Which is exactly when your phone buzzes, Annie’s name lighting up the screen.
You both freeze.
You and Riki share a wide-eyed glance, like kids caught sneaking out after curfew. He gestures with his chin. “Answer.”
Your stomach knots. Still, you swipe to accept, propping the phone up against a mug. Annie’s face fills the screen, bright and smiling, hair pulled back loosely.
“Morning!” she chirps, eyes darting between the two of you. “Wow, you look… cozy.”
You freeze, conscious of the hoodie you’re still swimming in, of the way Riki is leaning against the counter right beside you.
“Where are you guys?” she asks, squinting at the background.
You fumble. “Uh—I’m just—”
Riki cuts in smoothly, “My place.”
Your heart lurches. Annie’s brows climb, lips twitching like she’s already amused. “Wait. Are you guys… together?”
It hits like a spark. Your pulse spikes, words tumbling out too fast. “No! We’re not—it’s not like that, we’re just—”
“Watching the piggies!” Riki adds, a little too loudly, and then winces.
Annie leans her chin on her hand, smirking. “Uh-huh. You both sound very convincing right now.”
You glance at Riki, flustered heat crawling up your neck. He’s no better—jaw tight, ears pink.
But then Annie’s smirk softens. “Relax. You’re adults. If you wanna date, I’m not gonna stop you. Honestly? Makes my life easier if you get along.”
You blink. “You’re… not mad?”
“Mad? No.” She shrugs. “Just don’t break up, because I am not picking sides. Got it?”
You groan, covering your face with your hands. Riki chuckles under his breath, clearly entertained by your misery.
Annie beams, oblivious or pretending to be. “Okay, gotta run—meeting in ten. Love you both!”
The call ends, leaving only the soft hum of the fridge and the pounding in your chest.
You lower your hands slowly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. Riki’s already watching you, eyes sharp, lips curved in a half-smile that feels more like a dare.
“What?” you whisper, trying for nonchalance, but your voice betrays you.
He shakes his head, still grinning. “You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
Something snaps then; weeks of sidelong glances and almost-touches collapsing all at once. He closes the distance, lips crashing onto yours, urgent and hungry.
You gasp into the kiss, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. He tilts his head, deepening it, one hand cradling your jaw like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.
Finally, finally, you stop pretending.
The kiss deepens fast, like neither of you remember how to pace yourselves. His mouth is hot against yours, tasting faintly of broth and sesame, his hand cupping your jaw firm enough to keep you there, to keep you from slipping away.
You clutch his hoodie tighter, tugging him closer until your chest presses flush to his. The contact makes him groan low in his throat, vibration thrumming through you.
“Riki—” you start, but the word dissolves into another gasp as he nips your bottom lip, swallowing the sound before it can form.
He doesn’t let you finish. In one swift motion, one that’s reckless, thoughtless and so him; he bends, hands gripping the backs of your thighs. Your breath catches as your feet leave the ground, the world tilting when he lifts you like you weigh nothing. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist, fingers threading into his hair for balance.
“God,” he mutters against your mouth, voice husky, “you drive me insane.”
Your laugh is shaky, half-swallowed by the kiss. “Says the one who just carried me like it’s nothing.”
“Shut up.” He grins, breathless, and steals another kiss, bumping you into the doorframe on the way out of the kitchen. You squeak, swat at his shoulder, and he just laughs into your mouth before adjusting his grip.
By the time he drops onto the couch with you straddling his lap, you’re both flushed, panting, hearts racing like you’d sprinted the whole way. His hands find your hips, fingers pressing hard through the fabric of your sweats, grounding you in place.
You hover there for a moment, knees bracketing his thighs, chest rising and falling against his. The intensity in his eyes nearly undoes you. It’s dark, sharp and full of everything he’s been holding back.
“Still gonna tell me not to think about you like this?” he murmurs, thumb brushing the hem of your shirt.
Your breath stutters. Heat coils low in your stomach, and yet you manage a shaky smile, eyes locking on his. “Pretty sure you’re the one who started it.”
His laugh is quiet, disbelieving, before his lips crash onto yours again.
The couch creaks under your shifting weight, your hands slide up his chest to his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him like you’ve been waiting weeks for this exact moment. He pulls you closer, until there’s no space left, until even the air between you is burning.
“Riki,” you breathlessly murmur once he trails kisses down your neck. He sucks sharply, one of his hands holding you close to him by your waist. The other in your hair.
Your nails sink from his shoulders and into his back and he pulls your hair back, revealing your neck before he sucks another kiss into it.
His breathing is labored and all you can do is mewl against him. You try to pull back but his hold is too strong.
You shift your weight, hips dragging on his lap and you both moan.
“Need you so bad, Riki,” you whine, humping yourself against his bigger frame.
“Yeah? Show me how bad pretty, “ he murmurs, and then he’s flipping you two. You’re spread below him, your back against leather couch and Riki towering over you.
His hair is messy, lips bitten red and you can’t control the shiver overtaking you. Your hands are held together, right in front of your waist. You watch as Riki slips his shirt over his head, then his sweats.
The wild look he gives you makes your heart beat harder in your chest. He reaches out for you then, his huge hand engulfing your wrists together and holding your hands above your head.
He tugs the hoodie you’re wearing (his hoodie) up, letting his hand explore the soft skin he’s uncovering.
“Fuck,” you think you hear him whisper to himself.
“Stay here, beautiful, I’m just gonna go and get a condom.” Is all he says, before he almost runs to his room. The sight would be funny if you weren’t so turned on right now.
Instead you take your clothing off, thanking whomever for deciding to wear your lacy panties yesterday.
Riki comes back into the room just as you’re sat completely naked on the couch – save for your panties. He bites his lips, eyes raking you in and it’s at this point that you notice his tattoos.
“Leave them on,” he gestures to your panties, and then. He’s back on you.
He kisses you as if his life depended on it, nudging you softly so you’re laying down again. His hands go from soft to rough where he explores your body.
But you return the favor, where Riki grips – you grasp, pulling him impossibly closer.
“Need you Riki, c’mon,” you plead.
“Gonna let me ruin you a little?” he asks, his voice low and rough.
Instead of answering you press your hips into his, pouting as you shakily answer, “Only if I get to ruin you too.”
“Fuck,” is all he says and then you’re watching him fumble with the damn condom.
“Need some help?” you tease, but the breathlessness in your voice betrays you.
“Don’t rush me, I’m trying not to fuck this up,” he grins, but you can tell he’s getting frustrated.
So you grip his cock, your other hand pressing on the plastic wrap as you both push it over his cockhead.
“Riki, you’re so big,” you whine, lip caught between your teeth, “promise you’ll go slow?”
He looks at you then, looking almost surprised. His eyes soften, “Of course baby, we’ll go as slow as you need.” He tells you almost in a coo.
And then you feel his cock pressing against your entrance.
“So big Riki, you’re so big,” you whine before he’s even entered you.
You wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him down onto you and Riki groans when he feels your hips pushing forward.
His cockhead starts slipping in, your wetness almost sucking him in you.
“Shit—so fucking tight…” he groans, guttural and low. He sinks deeper and deeper, inch by inch and you feel your eyes watering from the pleasurable strech.
“Riki—feels so good,” you moan once he’s almost fully sheathed himself into your smaller body underneath his. Your nails sink into his back and he hisses, but you feel his dick twich.
You’re mewling as he fills you fully, his body tense against your limp one.
You’re smiling up at him as his hands grip your thighs tightly in a poor attempt to ground himself.
You tug on his hair a little bit and he’s groaning, pushing his hips out slowly, before pushing himself back into you.
“Been wanting this—fuck—been wanting you for so long,” his voice breaks between thrusts.
“Told you I’d ruin you,” he whispers by your ear when he notices your teary eyes.
“Looks like I’m ruining you too,” you smirks as you feel just how hard his dick is. He slams deeper into you just then, groaning your name and you’re a goner.
Your hands are all over each other’s bodies, nails drawing sharp red lines across his back, while Riki sucks another bruise on your collar bones.
You feel your climax approaching, and that’s when Riki grips your wrists together, pinning your hands above your head.
He’s watching the way your tits bounce when you note his expression.
He was close.
“That’s it, good girl, just like that—taking me so well,” he rasps, his voice so low it’s making your stomach do backflips.
“Riki—gonna—” you’re barely coherent, as you attempt to praise him back. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and suddenly you still.
“Come with me pretty girl. Right here, with me. Wanna see you make a mess.”
And before you know it he’s cumming with you. His hips pressed against your, his dick filling you so good. So well, you feel his balls spasm as he comes alongside with you.
After a beat he collapses half on top of you, kissing your jaw, sweaty but soft.
“Not letting you go now. Don’t care what Annie says,” he murmurs, his forehead against yours.
You laugh breathlessly, stroking his hair, “You’re ridiculous.”
He’s kissing your neck, softer this time, as he softly replies “Maybe. Still not letting you go.”
This is incredible😫 Haven't read such a good fic in SO LONG... I can't... literally was giggling and kicking my feet the whole time😝😋🤭 BEST 2 hours of my life🤭🤭🤭
⋮ synopsis- You never knew why, but the guy who sat in the front row of the chemistry class always pissed you off. Who knew he could've had a glow up?
➜ warnings!! :: MDNI ⭑ PWP, dom riki, p in v, no protection (dont b silly wrap yo willy!!!), oral (f recieve), bullying, jealousy, mentions of situationships, semi-public sex?, rikis a lil mean (lmk if I missed any!!)
You never knew why, but the guy who sat in the front row of the chemistry class caught your eye. The way his black hair fell on his face, the thick frames of his glasses. The way he always answered the teacher's questions.
It pissed you off so much.
And you didn't even know why. Was it the way he spoke? The way his fingers brushed his neatly arranged fringe? You didn’t even know his name, for god's sake! All you knew was that he was friends with your brother, who was equally a nerd in your book.
Every time you looked at him, you could feel your blood boil, face redden, and heart quicken. You’d always concluded it was hatred and envy of him being so smart, but then again. You were one of the most popular girls at school, weren't you?
You had lines and lines of guys and girls who’d do anything for you in a heartbeat. No money? The student council president coincidentally had the $20 extra in his wallet. Forgot homework? The class pet offers to swap her own homework sheet for your empty one.
It was like living the dream.
—
You sat in your brother's room, bored inevitably. He was hunched over at his desk, studying for a test that was in a month. Seriously, who studies that early?
“Hey, Jaeyun.” You said, practically throwing your plush toy, a stuffed duck animal that he gave you for your 7th birthday, at him. The soft fabric of the plush hits his shoulder, gaining a groan from him.
Yet, that didn't make him budge. His hands were still steady, continuing to use the black pen to jot down important notes from his computer science class. Eyes flicking between the lined paper and the recorded video.
Watching this made you huff, crossing your legs on Jaeyun's bed. Your eyes wander around his room, from the shelves of chemistry books to Wilfred Owen poems in hardcover copies. The black bedding under you was messed up from the fact that you were rolling around in it, waiting for your brother to finish up his notes.
“Jaeyunn!” You whined, picking up one of his own pillows, one that was covered in chemistry equations, throwing it straight at the back of his head.
A loud exhale escaped Jaeyun’s nose as he harshly slammed the pen onto the desk. You couldn't see him, but you knew he was practically fuming at the number of times you were bothering him.
“What, Y/N,” He started with a gritted voice, back still faced towards you as he stared at the now paused video lecture on his monitor. “What could’ve possibly been so important that you had to interrupt me?”
He finally spun on his chair, Jaeyun’s hair pushed back by a headband he stole from you, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes sending daggers into your own. His chest heaved rapidly as if to calm himself down from yelling at you; he was your older brother after all.
You smirked at the fact that you finally got his attention. Getting up from tussling on his bed, as your legs hung off the side.
“The party you said you’d drive me to?” You narrowed your eyes at him, raising your eyebrow slowly, “Don’t tell me you forgot? Even after I covered for you, telling mom you were at a study group even when you were-”
“Shut up! Get off my bed and get ready.” Jaeyun groaned with annoyance, interrupting you, not wanting to be reminded of that dreadful day.
Already pushing himself away from his desk, he straightens his shirt, one with a puppy with the words ‘you are pawsome!’ right underneath it, the same one you thought was stupid. Eyes squinting at you with full judgment.
“If you don't get ready in the next 30 minutes, I’m leaving you.”
—
You finally emerge from your bedroom, dressed in an outfit you’d like to say screams ‘sleep with me!’ but also enough to say ‘but I won't go to third base, maybe a blowjob.’ It was a white tank top that ended just above your belly button, the words ‘desire’ embellished in gems across the chest of the tank, low-rise denim shorts that stopped just above mid-thigh. The straps of your new thong peak just above the waistline, and the edges of your cheetah print bralette are visible through the tank.
Jaeyun stood by the door, still dressed in his, what you would call, ‘nerdy’ graphic shirt and baggy sweatpants, his glasses still intact on his face. His face glued to his phone, watching whatever you thought ‘nerds’ would watch.
Hearing the sounds of your feet padding the carpet on the stairs, his head perked up from his phone, only to instantly groan and fake gag at the sight of your outfit.
“Can you, for once, not act all…” He scoffed, eyes raking your body in disgust.
“Hot?”
“Slutty. Needy,” He corrected. Instantly turning around to the door. Grabbing his slides from the shoe rack, sliding them on as he continued his sentence, “Is it possible that you could stop acting like a whore, for once?”
You scoff at his degrading comments, walking past him to grab your own shoes, a pair of white boots with fur around the rim, laced tight enough that you wouldn't have to bend over every five minutes to tie them into a bow during the party.
“Do you always have to be such a dick, Yun?” You groan in frustration as you stand up, your back cracking quietly with every stretch, and the heels of the boots are loud with every step towards the door.
“Whatever.” He scoffed, following behind you as you both walked towards the busted-up Honda Civic in the garage way.
—
As Jaeyun and you pull up to the party, the smell of weed and alcohol hits your nose instantly; the doors of the car weren't even open to say the least. A small smirk hit your lips as you noticed your friends, your head slowly turning towards Jaeyun.
“I'm going in, call me if you need me.” You said with a smile, blowing a small kiss towards Jaeyun. “I probably won't answer.”
You instantly get out of the car and catch up to all your friends, who were walking up the porch stairs. Your hand shooing Jaeyun away to drive away. As Jaeyun notices the signal, he rolls his eyes with a grumble, driving away with a sad puff of the exhaust pipe.
As soon as you set foot into the house, the blaring music hits your ears. The smell of weed and alcohol is becoming even more evident with every step.
Soon, you see your friends in the kitchen, all of them surrounding the punch. Knowing them, they were probably spiking it with Everclear. Their giggles and chatter fill the room until one of their heads perks up.
“Oh my god-! Y/N!” Your friend, Manon, called out with a smile, her hand still on the bottle of Everclear. You smile at the recognition and join the circle, giggling.
“Are you seriously doing this? It's like we’re freshmen all over again.” You roll your eyes at their antics, taking the ladle from Chaewon, stirring the punch so the alcohol could distribute evenly into the fruity drink.
“Oh come on, live a little.” Giselle nudged you softly with a smirk. And she was right, you haven't done shit like this since you were a freshman in high school. You remembered the thrill you got when you were pouring down a more tamer alcohol than Everclear, but still pouring something strong into a tame punch.
With a sigh, you scoop the now tainted mix into a red cup, the liquid being a diluted pink shade. Your face grimaces softly as you bring up the alcohol towards your nose, the strong, fiery smell making your eyes tingle slightly.
“Chug… chug... chug...” Your friends start chanting around you with a smile, their hands hitting the table lightly. The sound of the table ringing through your ears as their cheers become louder and travel around the room until people you didn't even know chanted on as well.
With everyone chanting through the room, you took a sharp inhale as you brought the cup towards your lips. Tilting your head back and opening your throat up so the liquid could slide down your throat. Eyes were watering slightly at the burn and the rapid speed of the drink flowing. As soon as you finish chugging, you slam the red cup down onto the marble table, and a loud cheer erupts from the sudden crowd that was watching you.
All the attention is on you.
—
You weren't drunk, you’d like to say. Maybe just tipsy?
Your body was just flowing like a wave in the ocean. Your hips swaying to the music of the party - S&M by Rihanna. Your hips were grinding on a random person behind you; the face was blurred in your mind.
Was it Lee Heeseung, the notorious school esports gamer? Or was it Kim Sunoo, well-known student body president?
Your bodies pressed against the sweat of other people surrounding you, the pink and purple lights hitting the living room, the floor sticky due to spilled alcohol and sodas. The sounds of people making out, laughing loudly, and the music progressively getting louder. You couldn't take it anymore.
“Sorry.” You muffled out, walking away from the guy you were grinding on, still unsure of who it was. Your mind is racing as you walk out of the living room into the kitchen, which is now almost vacant due to the blasting music in the living room and the host, Kang Taehyun, playing beer pong outside with a large number of people.
Your eyes wander to the forgotten punch, quickly taking the ladle and pouring another batch into a random red plastic cup. Bringing the drink to your lips - forgetting it was filled with Everclear.
Your eyes water instantly as you chugged the drink down your throat, and in regret. Your head is spinning even more, and your eyes are getting hazy slowly. Your hand slowly goes to your phone inside your pocket, dialling your brother's number.
Ring… ring… ring…
That was all you heard until the click of someone picking up. The loud music was slowly enveloped by the loud silence through the phone. Until you hear a groggy voice.
“Hello…?”
“Jaeyun-!” You hiccuped softly. “Pick me up from Taehyun's house. I don't want to be here anymore.” You slurred so softly, another hiccup escaping your lips.
You could hear a loud sigh from the other side of the call. Shuffling through the fabrics of beds.
“I can’t, Y/N. Our house is what…? 30 minutes away, it’d take too long.” Jaeyun muttered with a rasp in his voice. “I’ll call my friend, alright, he can pick you up faster.” You heard him say, before the call ended, making you sigh in quick relief. You gather all your stuff, not caring if you left anything in the living room.
You made your way through the hallway of weed clouds and people making out. The sensation is making your clothes uncomfortably cling to your skin. Your vision was fuzzy and blurred as you reached the entrance door, opening it in a rush to gain fresh air into your lungs.
You could feel yourself collapse onto the house's lawn, the grass feeling fresh and soft under your hands and knees, the cool air you inhale making you feel refreshed and alive again.
5 minutes go by, and you’re staring into the night sky, the clouds now gone and replaced with the soft gaze of the stars. Your tipsy mind is creating patterns and animals with every look. You felt free, almost like you wanted to let go. Your eyes slowly close.
Beep!
Was it all that made you fall out of the trance you were in? Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at the black Ford Mustang.
Who the fuck uses a Ford Mustang, and how does Jaeyun know them?
—
The car ride was silent, not a peep from you nor a peep from your mystery saviour. You don't even remember getting into the car. One second you were on the grass of Taehyun’s lawn, next thing you know, poof! You’re in a random person's car - a nice car at that.
You wanted to speak, you could’ve if you tried. But you were too scared, what if they were a kidnapper? You sat in the passenger seat, eyes focused on the view out the window. The only sound of the car was the murmur of the stereo and the engine.
All you could think about was Who the hell is this person? Not if you were safe, not if your brother knew this person. Just who was this person? Your eyes glanced over at the steering wheel, studying the easy grip on the wheel, how they occasionally tapped with every stop, how veiny yet delicate their hands were, how big they were.
Your mind raced for minutes, hours, you don't even know. Until you hear the sound of the engine turning off, the car is coming to a stop. Your eyes are returning to the original position - closed, as well as trying to steady your breath.
The mystery person didn’t bother waking you. They slid out of the driver’s seat, moved with a hushed quiet around the car, and opened the passenger door to lift you from the passenger side as if you were a secret they’d kept all along. Your fake act of sleeping for many years is paying off. The only sounds you were hearing were how they walked from the car to the front door with you in their arms, and the mutter of the words.
“Thanks, Ki.”
Ki?
—
“Where’d you go last night, Y/N?” It was the first thing you heard as soon as you arrived at your first draining class of the day. Chemistry.
“Some random person came to pick me up. I think I drank too much.” You mumbled, the words feeling clumsy in your dry mouth. You collapse into the desk chair, the screech of its legs against the floor sending a sharp pain straight through your temples. “I think I'm hungover, fuck.” You instantly drop your head into your hands, trying your best to block out the unusually bright lights of the lab. “My head is pounding.”
What you didn't know was the specific nerd listening to your conversation. He was only a few tables ahead of you, at the front of the class. How he masked his listening as studying. His pen glided over the paper, writing nonsense because who would check, right? His ears perked up at the sound of your voice. Pen instantly stills at the sound of your groggy voice cutting through the morning chatter. He held his breath, listening intently, the chemical equations now forgotten.
“I don't even know who it was.” You continue, looking up at Giselle with furrowed eyebrows and a puff. “I mean, I heard Jaeyun say ‘Ki’, but who knows who that could've been!” You groan, digging your head into your arms in annoyance.
“Hey, I mean. I can help you find them?” Giselle offered, sitting down next to you, her hand rubbing your back soothingly. “I've dabbled a little bit on internet stalking, just tell me what you remember, hm?”
You look up at Giselle, who clearly had a sympathetic look on her face. Eyes narrowing as if to read any motive behind it, nodding with a tiny sigh.
“Yeah, that'd be helpful, thanks.” You smile softly at her as you tell her about the mysterious person. Thinking back to the party and how he carried you. All the details you could remember spilling out of your lips.
“I mean, he's a friend of Jaeyuns, and he also had a Ford Mustang.” You recounted how, watching Giselle's expression at the mention of the car, her eyes widened in shock and intrigue. “His nickname from Jaeyun was… Ki?”
Giselle nodded with the final detail escaping your lips. Her hands are going to type on every website she can think of frantically.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing was found.
“How the hell is there nothing on this ‘Ki’ guy!” Giselle exclaimed, now feeling more frustrated than you did. It was your turn to calm her down, your hand rubbing her shoulders in a way that offered sympathy.
“You gave it your best shot, Giselle. That’s what matters.” You gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before pulling your hand away with a soft smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll ask Jaeyun when we get home and see if he can help.”
A spark of realisation lit in Giselle’s eyes, almost like she was a kid in a candy store. She leaned in so close you could practically smell the cherry lip gloss, her voice dropping into a whisper. “Y/N-! I think I know-”
The school bell blared throughout the room at that exact moment, its harsh, electronic shriek drowning her words completely. Making both of you groan loudly, Giselle shoots you a look as if to say ‘I’ll tell you in a bit.”
The professor barges into the room, his voice a booming monotone as he launches into a lecture about moles and ions, a topic that felt meaningless with everything going on already. You could only offer Giselle a weak nod, your mind still clinging onto the ghost of the name she almost said, now drowned out by the droning of atomic weights.
—
After chemistry, a mental fog rolled in, obscuring everything, including the memory of ‘Ki.’ Giselle seemed to have forgotten, too. The thought, once jarring and annoying, has now settled into the deepest part of your mind. An hour slipped into a day, a day melted into a week, until a full month had passed without a single thought of him.
The hallway was your runway. With your friends beside you, all of you owned it, your giggles echoing off the lockers.
Manon was hanging on your every word, slapping your arm as you mocked your ex-situationship with the school's basketball captain, Takayama Riki. Taki. Even his name was a joke now.
Distracted by what you were saying, you slammed into someone. The collision was straight out of a teen flick: a whirlwind of flying papers and a hard landing that left your ass aching.
“Fuck, ow…” You groan as your friends surround you in worry. Looking at the thick-rimmed glasses of the boy, you glare at him.
The same nerd who pissed you off, and you still couldn't name the boy. Unnamed and Irrelevant in your book.
“Watch it, nerd,” you spat, scrambling to your feet, your cheeks burning with annoyance. You didn't just step on his papers; you ground your heel into them. Your hands are in balls of rage, sharp nails piercing the skin of your palm lightly.
A deafening silence fell over your group, the hallway quiet enough you could hear a pindrop. The ‘nerd’ didn’t yell or shrink back. He just stared at the ground, at the perfect imprint of your sneaker on what you'd think was a simple physics diagram. Slowly, he kneeled to grab each sheet of paper.
“Apologise,” Manon said, her voice sharp, always the one to escalate the situation. That's what she was known for.
But he didn’t even look at her. His eyes, when they finally rose to meet yours, weren't filled with the tears or anger you expected. They were cold. Disappointed. As if you were the pathetic one.
“You’re stepping on Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle,” he said, his voice quiet but cutting through the hallway’s murmur. “Not that you’d know what that means.”
Your face flushed hot. He had spoken to you. He had actually spoken back. You blink at him in rage as you could hear Chaewon gasping and Giselle trying her best not to laugh at his comeback.
He just pushed his glasses up his nose, gave you one final, unreadable look.
Was he disappointed? Was he smirking? You couldn't tell.
He knelt to gather his papers, ignoring you completely. The dismissal was absolute. It was the most infuriating thing you had ever experienced.
Your mind raced, white-hot and blank. You couldn't think of a single cutting remark that would shatter his calm. Words had failed you. So you did the only thing you could think of.
SLAP!
The crack of your hand against his cheek echoed down the hallway. The background chatter of the school died instantly.
For a heartbeat, there was only silence. The boy’s head snapped to the side, his glasses knocked askew. A perfect, red handprint bloomed on his pale skin. Your chest heaves in anger and rage.
As soon as you realised what happened, your mind started to race. You couldn't be here. You had to get out. Without a word to your friends, you turned and practically ran, the echo of the slap still ringing in your ears.
And there was one thing you couldn't deny: the guy was insanely hot.
—
As soon as you practically ran out, chaos erupted.
Everyone's chattering, booming in shock and amusement, at how the nerd could take down one of the most popular girls in school.
Manon gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and thrill. Giselle looked between Chaewon and Manon in disbelief.
And the nerd?
He simply knelt, quietly gathering his scattered papers. No one moved to help him; the only movement was the frantic shutter of phone cameras from a select few, documenting his humiliation.
His face was hidden, covered by his messed-up bangs. But if anyone had been close enough to see, they would have spotted a small, hidden smirk playing on his lips.
His cheeks were flushed red. Anyone would presume it was from anger or shame. But it wasn't. It was from lust. A deep, burning want. Desire. He had finally gotten a reaction.
—
You slammed the bathroom stall door shut, locking it and sliding down to the dirty floor. Your chest heaved, but you couldn’t catch your breath.
The sound, that awful, crisp crack of your hand, replayed on a loop in your head.
You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to erase the image: the jerk of his head, the red mark on his cheek, the way his glasses flew off.
And then that other image, the one that rose through the panic: the sharp cut of his jawline, the intensity in his eyes before you hit him.
No.
Stop it. He was just a random person.
A door swung open outside. “Y/N? Are you in here?” Manon’s voice echoed off the tiles, laced with excitement. “That was literally the most iconic thing I’ve ever seen!”
But another voice, quieter, followed.
“Y/N, you need to get out of here before someone catches you.” Chaewon. You dropped your head into your knees.
This wasn't iconic.
This was a disaster.
—
As the crowd's chatter began to die down, he finally stood, the papers stacked in his hands. He didn't look at anyone. He simply turned and walked away, leaving the whispers in his wake.
Once he rounded a deserted corner, he stopped. He pulled one specific sheet from the middle of the stack.
On the corner, smudged but perfectly defined, was the imprint of your shoe. He traced the pattern with his finger, a slow, satisfied smile finally spreading across his face.
Touch.
That's all he wanted from you, a feel of you. His hand slowly carried to his face, feeling the stinging burn of your slap on his cheek.
He could still feel the ghost of your touch on his cheek. It wasn't pain he felt there now, but a burning warmth.
He could still smell your perfume, a velvet musk and something sharp, like what he'd imagine Victoria's Secret would smell like. The scent lingering in the air around him, like you were whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
It was the same scent he caught every time you passed him in the hallways and classes, a scent he’d tried and failed to find anywhere else.
And now his skin was imprinted with your memory. He would wear the faint redness on his cheek like a badge of honour. He hoped it wouldn't fade.
—
A cold sweat woke you, your breath catching in your throat. The room was still dark, the only light the pale green glow of the clock:
6:47 am.
You dragged a hand across your damp forehead, the dream already receding like a tide. But the feeling remained. The echo of a voice, the ghost of a smile you could never quite see. It was always the same. It always brought you back to the cringe-worthy moment that had locked in your fate, the reason you’d sworn to never look back at high school. The memory of your own actions, lashing out in a wave of misplaced anger, still burned with a fresh shame. Even if you wanted to, you could never go back.
With a groan, you pushed back the covers and swung your legs over the side of the bed, the floor cool against your feet. As you sat there, willing yourself to fully wake up, a faint bzzzt-bzzzt vibrated through your pillow.
You fumbled underneath the cotton case, your fingers closing around the cool, hard rectangle of your phone. The screen blazed to life, a blinding square of light that made you wince. You squinted, waiting for the spots to clear from your vision, until two frantic texts from Giselle came into focus:
6:34 am
Gigi!: ohemgee girl, check your email now
Gigi!: likeasap. YOU NEED TO SEE THIS.
Heart suddenly doing a strange, nervous flutter that had nothing to do with the dream, you tapped the notification. The sender's name made your breath hitch: Kang Taehyun. The same Taehyun who threw massive parties. The subject line read: An Invitation for the Class of 2020.
You opened it.
Hello Everyone,
Hard to believe it's been five years already. I'm reaching out on behalf of a few of us to organise a reunion for our graduating class. It would be great to see everyone and catch up.
We've booked a private space at Dorsia for the evening of October 9th, starting at 6:30 PM. I've attached the details and a link to RSVP below. Please let us know if you can make it.
P.S. You’re able to bring a +1.
Hope you're all doing well,
Taehyun
___
Hanlim Arts High School of 2020 Reunion
When: October 9, 2025, 6:30 PM
Where: The Dorsia, Highway 1009, Main Street
The air left your lungs. No. It couldn’t be. Five years of carefully built distance, obliterated by a single email. The name of the school stared back at you, a ghost from a life you’d deleted. Your fingers go back to reply to Giselle's texts.
6:55 am
You: Gigi, are you gonna go?
A pause. The question hung in the digital air, a lifeline thrown to your friend. Of course, she was going. You were really asking if you had to.
You: I think we’re gonna have to text the girls…
Gigi!: I mean, duh? 👀
Gigi!: Would u miss this???
Gigi!: Imagine all the glow up, all the guys had. We HAVE to witness this.
You: truuuu 😩
You: If u text Chae and Manon
You: lmk what they say
Gigi!: nah too much work, I'll just make a gc
Gigi!: just like old times, yk?
Your phone instantly lit up, buzzing insistently in your hand. A new notification glowed on the screen, a stark and sudden bridge to the past you’d tried so hard to forget:
Giselle added You, Chaewon, and Manon to the group: THE GANG IS GETTING BACK 2GETHER.
Gigi!: OKAY GIRLS, DROP EVERYTHING
Gigi!: THE EMAIL. DID YOU GET THE EMAIL??
Manon: OMG what
Manon: I WAS STILL SLEEPING
Manon: HOLD ON
Manon: .
Manon: holy shit.
Chaewon: I’ve been awake. I’ve already stalked 37 Instagram accounts to see who got fat.
Chaewon: jus kiddin!!!!
Chaewon: Or am I?
Gigi!: SEE??? I TOLD YOU. CHAEWON IS ALREADY ON IT.
Gigi!: @You WE ARE GOING. NO ARGUMENTS.
You: fuck.
It was less a word and more a sigh of resignation. What else was there to say? The messages would keep buzzing, the world would keep turning. On autopilot, your body moved before your mind could protest any further, standing up from the side of the bed. The routine awaited: shower, coffee, commute. Life, stupidly, went on.
—
The lull after the morning rush left you stranded by the cash register, a job you still owed your brother, Jaeyun, a major thank you for. He was a lifesaver like that. You traced the worn buttons on the machine, the mindless normalcy of the act a stark contrast to the earthquake that single email had triggered.
The bell above the door chimed, jerking you from your thoughts. A man in a sharp suit approached, his attention locked on his phone.
"Large black coffee. Extra hot," he said, the order delivered to his screen, not to you.
You nodded, your fingers hovering over the register.
Large…
Black…
But your mind was miles away, trapped in a high school hallway. Extra hot. Your fingers tapped the buttons on autopilot.
"That'll be $4.50," you said, your voice sounding thin and distant, like someone else's.
He held out his card, finally glancing up. His eyes flickered from your face to the screen and back again. He did a double-take. "You, uh... You might want to cancel that. You rang up an iced caramel latte with whipped cream."
Heat flooded your cheeks. Mortification, hot and familiar, washed over you. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry," you fumbled, quickly voiding the order. The mistake was a tiny, pathetic echo of the exact clumsiness you thought you'd outgrown. Your words tumbled out in a rushed apology. "I'll–I’ll add a free cookie to your order. To make up for it."
“Hey, it's okay. Everyone has an off day,” he said, a surprisingly gentle chuckle undercutting your panic as he handed his card over.
Flustered, you took it. “Is there a name for the order?” you asked, your voice still tight with embarrassment as you swiped the card.
“Nishimura Riki.”
Riki?
"Earth to Y/N. You gonna help me with these cups or just stare at that customer like a creep?"
You blinked. Your coworker, Park Sunghoon, was smirking at you from behind the espresso machine, a tub of wet spoons in his hand.
"Sorry," you mumbled, grabbing a towel and starting to dry.
"Whoa, what's with you?" he asked, his teasing tone softening. "You look like you just saw a ghost. Or your credit card bill."
You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding. "Something like that. Just got some... weird news."
He raised an eyebrow. "Good weird or 'I need to change my name and move to Peru' weird?"
"Peru," you said without hesitation. "Definitely Peru."
“Oh? It’s that bad?” Sunghoon teased, nudging you with his shoulder as he snapped the lid on the coffee. He held it aloft. “Large black for Nishimura!”
The man approached the counter, his eyes still glued to his phone. He grabbed the coffee with a muttered “Thanks,” but then his gaze flickered up, finding yours. A quick, unexpected wink sent a fresh wave of heat to your cheeks before he turned and walked out. The bell gave a cheerful chime as the door swung shut behind him.
A snicker came from your left. “I think he likes you.”
You didn’t even have to look to know Sunghoon was grinning. His laugh followed, punctuated by a light, mocking slap on your shoulder.
“Fuck off!” you shot back, the words automatic, your face burning hotter than the espresso machine.
—
The rest of your shift passed in a blur of steam and muttered apologies. The name Nishimura Riki echoed in your skull, a taunting rhythm matching the hiss of the espresso machine. It couldn't be a coincidence. It had to be him.
You didn't even bother changing out of your coffee-stained apron. You drove straight to Jaeyun's apartment, the scent of burnt coffee beans clinging to you like a ghost.
You found him exactly where you expected: hunched over his desk, glasses perched on his nose, coding something that looked incomprehensibly boring. He didn't look up as you let yourself in.
"Hey," you said, your voice tight.
"Hey," he mumbled, his fingers never stilling on the keyboard. "What's up? You smell like a Starbucks exploded."
You took a deep breath, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Jaeyun. Who is 'Ki'?"
The typing stopped. The room went silent except for the low hum of his computer. He slowly spun his chair around to face you, his expression unreadable. "What?"
"Five years ago. That party at Taehyun's. You said you'd send your friend 'Ki' to pick me up. Who is he?"
Jaeyun's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He took them off, pinching the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache. "Why are you asking about this now? That was like, a long time ago."
"Just tell me," you pressed, your voice rising with a desperation that surprised even you. "His name was Nishimura Riki, wasn't it? The guy from your computer science class?"
A long, heavy silence stretched between you. Jaeyun studied your face, your coffee-splattered apron, your clenched fists. He saw the panic there.
He let out a long, weary sigh, the sound filled with a history of frustration you'd always been too self-absorbed to notice. "Yeah. Yeah, it was Riki. Nishimura Riki. My friend from the computer science class." He put his glasses back on, his gaze turning hard. "The one who drove you home when you were drunk, then, you know, slapped across the face a month later. Does that ring any bells?"
The confirmation was a physical blow. The air left your lungs. The nerd. The nerd was Ki. The nerd was the one with the veiny, delicate hands on the steering wheel. The nerd was the one who carried you to bed, who muttered "Thanks, Ki" to himself. The object of your confused hatred and your secret, shameful attraction was the same person.
You stumbled back, leaning against his doorframe for support. "Oh my god."
"Yeah. 'Oh my god,'" Jaeyun repeated, his voice flat. He stood up, finally abandoning his work. "And since we're finally talking about this, let's be clear about something. You're going to that reunion."
"I--"
He cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You are going to that reunion, and you are going to apologise to him."
"Apologise? To that-that-that–" The old, familiar bitterness rose in your throat, a pathetic defence mechanism.
"To what?" Jaeyun's voice sharpened, losing its usual patient cadence. "To the 'nerd'? Is that what you were going to say? To the guy who drove 30 minutes at midnight to pick your drunk ass up from a party you had no business being at? The one who carried you into the house because you were practically unconscious and didn't complain, not even once?"
He took a step toward you, and for the first time, you saw real anger in your brother's eyes. Not annoyance. Not frustration. Anger.
"He's my best friend, Y/N. And you've treated him like garbage since the day you met him because you were too busy being the 'popular girl' to see that he's the smartest, most decent person I know. That slap wasn't just some dramatic high school moment. It was cruel. And you owe him more than an apology. You owe him dignity you never gave him."
You stood there, utterly deflated. The fight drained out of you, replaced by a cold, sickening wave of shame. Jaeyun wasn't just teasing. He was dead serious. He had seen everything, and he had finally reached his limit.
The image of Riki, Ki, kneeling in the hallway, gathering his papers with that infuriatingly calm disappointment, flashed in your mind. But now it was overlayed with a new image: him carefully carrying you inside, his voice a murmur in the dark.
You had been the monster in both stories.
"Now," Jaeyun said, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. "Get out of my apartment. I have work to do. And you... You have a lot to think about before October 9th."
Wordlessly, you turned and left, the weight of his words, and the terrifying, exhilarating truth of who Nishimura Riki really was, settling on your shoulders like a lead cloak.
—
The day you had dreaded for a month had finally arrived. October 9th. The date glared at you from your phone screen, a digital verdict.
On the surface, everything was normal. Better than normal. The group chat was booming.
Manon was debating between sleek, straight hair and voluminous curls, sending frantic polls that expired in three minutes.
Chaewon was ruthlessly cyber-stalking every confirmed attendee, flooding the chat with Instagram screenshots and cryptic captions like, " glow down 😬" and "okay, he definitely got hot??"
Giselle was spamming the chat with mirror selfies, a different devastatingly chic outfit in each one. "Which one screams 'I'm too good for you but look anyway'?" she’d captioned the latest.
You watched the notifications stack up, each one a tiny hammer on the knot of anxiety in your stomach. You were supposed to be in there, hyping them up, picking your own outfit. Instead, you felt numb. You were an imposter in your own life, watching the pre-game for your own execution.
A final, shuddering sigh escaped your lips. You couldn't ignore it any longer. You checked your phone: 4:30 PM. The numbers felt like a sentence.
Time to get ready.
The thought alone was a physical weight. Moving with the sluggish, heavy reluctance of a condemned prisoner, you pushed back the covers. The air felt colder than it should have. Each step from the bed to the bathroom was a small act of sheer will, a slow agony of dread and regret made manifest. The door seemed miles away. You didn't walk; you shuffled, your feet dragging across the carpet as if hoping it would swallow you whole before you reached the shower.
You scrubbed at your skin as if you could erase the day itself. The mirror was already fogging, a mercy. You didn't want to see your own anxious eyes. What outfit could armour you for this? What makeup could cover the shame? Your friends were outside right now, applying serums and lash glue, crafting their perfect "revenge bodies" into weapons. You just felt hollow. The persona of the popular girl felt like a costume that didn't fit anymore, and the thought of putting it on made your skin crawl.
Your hands stilled in your hair, lathered with shampoo. What if he wasn't there? That would be almost worse. It would mean this entire agonising production was for nothing. What if he were there? What if he were with someone? Someone smarter, prettier, kinder, someone who had never publicly assaulted him. What would you even say? "Hey, remember that time I hit you? My bad." The water began to run cold, but you barely noticed, frozen by the sheer number of ways tonight could end in disaster.
The steam from the shower followed you out, clinging to your skin as you wrapped yourself in a plush towel. For a moment, standing in the hazy, warm bathroom, the cherry and vanilla scent wrapping around you like a shield, you almost believed it. You did feel like a bad bitch. The familiar ritual of self-care had done its job, smoothing the raw edges of your panic into a low, manageable hum of nerves.
But then your eyes landed on the garment bag hanging on the back of the door. The Armour.
With a deep breath that did little to steady you, you unzipped it. The dress slid out, a waterfall of smooth, black fabric. It was a sleek, strapless design, a form-fitting silhouette that promised to accentuate every curve. This was the dress of a confident woman who owned every room she walked into. A woman you desperately needed to be tonight.
You stepped into it, the cool fabric a shock against your warm skin. You tugged it up and smoothed it over your hips, the structure of the dress cinching your waist perfectly. Then came the standout element: the dramatic ruffles that ran along both sides. You ran your fingers over their textured flair, the playfulness of them feeling at odds with the solemnity of your mission. It was an elegant yet playful look, balancing sophistication with a boldness you weren't sure you felt.
You turned to look in the mirror, the glass now clear of fog.
The woman staring back was a stranger. Sophisticated. Bold. Put-together.
If only she felt that way on the inside.
—
You felt nervous the moment you stepped out of the Uber. No, that wasn't strong enough. You felt terrified. The distinctive, commanding click of your Louboutins on the concrete path was supposed to make you feel powerful. Instead, each step was an excruciating drumroll leading toward the doors of Dorsia. Click. A step closer to your humiliation. Click. A step closer to him. Click. There was no stopping it now. You were here.
As soon as you entered the private room, all chatter stopped. All eyes landed on you, a reminder of what happened in the hallway. A reminder of the high school you wish you could forget. You could feel the weight of their gazes, a mix of curiosity and judgment. The air was thick with unspoken words, each person silently recalling the events that had unfolded just moments ago. You clenched your fists, trying to steady your racing heart as memories flooded back, whispers in the hall, laughter that had felt like daggers, and a sense of isolation that wrapped around you like a shroud.
You took a deep breath, reminding yourself of the strength you had built since those days. This was a different space, a new chapter, and you were determined not to let the past define you. As you moved further into the room, you could hear the faintest murmurs begin again, a hushed mix of gossip and speculation.
“Isn’t that the one from…?”
“Did you hear what happened back then?”
But you held your head high, refusing to be a prisoner of your history. You scanned the room for a familiar face, someone who could anchor you amidst the swirling tides of judgment. This time, you would not be silenced.
You took a sharp inhale, a sad attempt to steady the frantic beat of your heart, and walked toward the table. And there they were. Giselle, Manon, and Chaewon. A perfect, glittering triangle of confidence.
For a breathtaking second, it was like no time had passed at all. The way they leaned in, the familiar arc of Manon’s laugh, the sharp, knowing glint in Giselle’s eye—it was a scene from a yearbook photo come to life. You were hit with a powerful, disorienting sense of déjà vu. You could almost feel the weight of your old letterman jacket, hear the roar of a Friday night football game. As if you guys were the popular group once again.
But the feeling shattered almost as soon as it formed. The backdrop wasn't the loud, sticky cafeteria but the dim, sophisticated glow of Dorsia. The drinks in their hands weren't smuggled vodka in soda cans, but elegant cocktails with twists of citrus. And you weren't the same person who ruled those halls. You were an imposter in a black dress, wearing a title that no longer fit, walking toward a past you had no right to reclaim.
“Y/N-! Oh my god, it’s been so long!” Manon exclaimed from excitement. Her eyes were practically glowing in the light.
Manon! Look at you!" you exclaimed, your own smile feeling real for the first time all night as you opened your arms for a hug. "God, it has been too long. I've missed you guys so much."
You looked between every single one of the girls you called best friends from high school. All looking stunning as usual. "I feel like I've aged a century. You guys look amazing. What's your secret? Botox or a deal with the devil?"
Giselle threw her head back and laughed, a sharp, familiar sound that cut through the party's buzz. "Honey, the devil was fresh out of deals, so we had to settle for a really good serum. I'll send you the link."
"Please do," you said, sliding into the empty chair they'd clearly saved for you. The simple gesture, they saved you a seat, sent a small, warm shock through your system.
Chaewon leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with the same mischievous glint you remembered. "But enough about us. We've been stalking everyone else all night. The real question is... have you seen him yet?"
You laughed nervously, rubbing your neck softly as you looked at Chaewon with worry. “Him? Whose ‘him’?” You tried to play dumb.
Chaewon raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a teasing smirk. “Oh, come on! You know exactly who I’m talking about, the nerd who just walked in and made everyone go quiet.”
A hot flush crept up your neck, burning your cheeks as the memories, the slap, the shame, the sound- flooded back. “I really don’t know what you mean,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant, but your voice came out thin and reedy, betraying you completely.
As if pulled by a magnetic force, your gaze flickered past your friends, across the crowded room, and landed on the entrance.
And there he was.
Nishimura Riki.
Yeah, you’d seen him at the coffee shop earlier while you were serving him, when you accidentally fucked up his order. But that was a blur of mortification, a glimpse through a panic-stricken haze. This… this was different. You had to do a double-take.
A triple-take.
The thick-rimmed glasses were gone. The hesitant posture had been replaced by an easy, confident stance. He’d filled out, his shoulders broad beneath a tailored suit that looked nothing like the ill-fitting sweaters he used to wear. He was scanning the room, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips, and for a terrifying, heart-stopping second, you felt a jolt of something entirely unfamiliar.
A strangled whisper escaped you before you could stop it, the words meant for yourself but loud enough for your friends to hear:
“When the hell did he get so hot?”
The table erupted.
Giselle slammed her palm on the table, making the glasses rattle. “I KNEW IT!” she crowed, her eyes wide with vindication. “I knew you weren’t just pissed at him! I called it! I called it sophomore year! You were obsessed!”
Manon’s jaw was practically on the floor. She grabbed your arm, her grip tight with excitement. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Y/N. Does this mean what I think it means? Does this mean the great, untouchable Y/N finally has a crush?” Her voice was a gleeful squeal.
Chaewon, ever the strategist, didn’t even look surprised. A slow, predatory smile spread across her lips as her eyes flickered between you and Riki, already calculating. “Okay. Okay. This is better than I planned. This is perfect,” she murmured, leaning in. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “So. What’s the play? Do we make him jealous? Do you want to go over there and finally apologise for, you know… the thing?”
“The thing?” Giselle cut in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You mean the time she publicly assaulted him in a hallway full of people? That thing? Yeah, maybe start with ‘sorry I hit you’ before you ask him to fuck you, Y/N.”
“Don’t remind me of that, Giselle,” you groaned, the words muffled as you shoved your head into your hands in utter frustration. The heat of a blush was still burning your ears. “I still have nightmares about the sound I-”
Ding-ding-ding!
A sharp, clear chime of a spoon against crystal cut through the party’s din, silencing your confession and every other conversation at once.
All eyes snapped toward the source of the sound. There, in the centre of the room, stood Kang Taehyun, holding a champagne flute aloft with a practised, charming smile.
"If I could have everyone's attention for a moment, please!" Taehyun announced, his voice effortlessly projecting across the suddenly quiet room. He smiled, a genuine, easy expression that put the room at ease.
"For those who don't know me, I'm Kang Taehyun, and five years ago, I was probably trying to sell you an energy drink before a midterm." Another laugh, this one a little more knowing.
"We're all here for one reason: to see what happened to the kids we spent our most formative years with. To celebrate how far we've come, and maybe laugh at how far we haven't. So, stop just staring at your old crushes from across the room," his eyes briefly, meaningfully, flicked in Riki’s direction before moving on, "and go say hello. The night's short. Make it count."
The room erupted in a wave of cheers and applause as Taehyun finished his speech, the sound swelling to fill the space before dissolving back into the hum of a dozen conversations reborn. Glasses were raised high in a spontaneous, unified toast, the golden liquid inside catching the light.
You laughed along with your friends, the sound a little too loud in your own ears, a performance of the easy joy everyone else seemed to feel. For a moment, you almost believed it. You let Giselle’s gossip and Manon’s dramatic story about her ex wash over you, clinging to the normalcy of it like a lifeline.
But then, a prickle of awareness crept up the nape of your neck.
It was a faint, almost imperceptible sensation at first. Then it came again, a slow, deliberate heat between your shoulder blades. Every so often, amidst the laughter and the clinking glasses, you felt it: a lingering gaze on the back of your head. Heavy. Intentional. It would settle for a few heartbeats, then vanish, only to return just as you began to relax.
Your smile would stiffen. Your laugh would catch in your throat. You’d take a hurried sip of your drink, the ice cold against your suddenly dry mouth. You never turned around. You didn’t have to. You knew, with a terrifying certainty, exactly who was watching you.
You finally caved. Under the pretence of scanning the room for a waiter, you let your gaze casually sweep over your shoulder.
And immediately, you wished you hadn’t.
He wasn’t hiding. He was right there, leaning against the far wall, talking calmly with Lee Heeseung. But his attention wasn’t on his friend. It was squarely, undeniably, on you.
Your breath hitched. There was no anger in his expression. No lingering resentment from the hallway. Instead, his dark eyes held a look of intense, focused… appraisal. It was the way one might study a complex equation or a fascinating piece of art. He looked from the Louboutins on your feet, up the line of your dress, to the likely panicked expression on your face.
Then, he did the most terrifying thing of all.
He raised his glass to you in a silent, intimate toast. His eyebrow quirked up a fraction, as if to say, I see you. And I’m not the nervous one.
You whipped back around to face your friends, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. The room felt ten degrees hotter.
“Whoa.” Giselle was the first to speak, her sharp eyes missing nothing. She leaned forward, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across her face. “What was that?”
“What was what?” you deflected, reaching for your drink again, only to find your hand was trembling. You quickly clasped them together in your lap.
“Don’t know what was what’ us,” Chaewon chimed in, her voice a low, intrigued whisper. She followed your previous line of sight, her gaze scanning the crowd before snapping back to you. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. A really, really hot ghost.”
Manon reached out, her fingers brushing your cheek. “Babe, your face is literally on fire. What happened? Did you make eye contact? Did he smile? Did he frown? You have to give us something!”
You were surrounded. The one thing you wanted to hide was now the centre of their universe. The attention from across the room was a laser beam, but the attention at your table was a spotlight, and you were standing directly in the centre of it.
Your eyes dropped to the half-finished drink in front of you. Champagne. Bubbly, weak, and utterly insufficient for the sheer tidal wave of panic cresting inside you.
But it was something.
Without a second thought, your fingers closed around the cool, slender stem of the flute. You didn't sip. You didn't toast. You brought it to your lips and tilted your head back, chugging the rest of it down in one desperate, burning gulp, just like you had at Taehyun's party all those years ago.
The alcohol hit your empty stomach like a lit match—a small, fleeting explosion of warmth that did nothing to quell the earthquake within, but for one single, blessed second, it made you feel brave.
A stunned silence fell over the table.
“Okay, what the hell was that?” Giselle blurted out, her eyebrows nearly in her hairline. “We’ve been sipping rosé all night like civilised people, and you just… shotgun a champagne flute? What did you see?”
“Whoa, easy there, party animal,” Manon laughed, but her eyes were wide with concern. She gently pried the empty glass from your death grip. “I thought we left our ‘chugging mystery punch’ days back in senior year. What’s going on?”
You leaned forward, a fabricated confidence sharpening your features. “I just thought, why not live a little…?” you purred, slowly and deliberately applying your lip gloss without breaking eye contact with Chaewon, your gaze challenging.
“Besides,” you added, snapping the gloss closed with a definitive click, “a little liquid courage is essential when you’re about to go apologise to a man you used to hate for being too smart and too pretty for his own good.” The statement hung in the air, a mission statement and a deflection all in one.
Before they could even process the confession, you flagged down a passing server, your voice unnaturally bright. “Does anyone else need a drink? I think we need another round. A real one this time. Tequila?”
But your bravado was a fragile shell, and everyone at the table knew it. Because you could feel Riki's gaze from across the room like a physical touch—a slow, deliberate heat tracing the line of your spine.
It wasn't the blank stare of a casual observer. It was loaded. It was the focused, analytical scrutiny of someone solving for a variable, and you were the unknown quantity in his equation. The hardness in it was a wall, a deliberate shield.
And you hated how your legs were shaking because of it.
—
After the reservation, the night dissolved into a pleasant, blurry momentum. "Bar hopping!" Taki declared, and the crowd eagerly agreed. You floated along with them, the world softening at the edges with every new drink and every new location, until the anxiety of earlier felt like a distant memory.
You lingered with your core group and a few stragglers from the reunion at the third bar, a dimly lit haunt where the bass thrummed deep in your chest. The vibes were, as Giselle would shriek, off the fucking roof. Huddled around a table littered with condensation-ringed glasses, you were lost in a fit of giggles that felt like a time machine straight back to high school.
But the past wasn’t so easily replicated.
The only and most electrifying difference was Riki.
He sat directly across from you, bracketed by Heeseung and Soobin, a silent king holding court. His long fingers stirred the ice in his Black Russian with a slow, hypnotic rhythm, the thin straw clicking softly against the glass. He wasn't laughing. He wasn't even speaking. He was just... watching.
And every few seconds, beneath the cover of dark lashes and the bar's moody light, his eyes would flick up to yours. It wasn't a glance. It was a searing, deliberate capture. A look so loaded it felt like a physical touch.
It held something unreadable yet utterly unmistakable. A dark, simmering lust. A deep, curious desire. A pure, simple want.
Maybe it was all three at once. The only thing you knew for certain was that it was aimed directly at you, and it made your knees buckle in need and pussy throb.
And clearly, Riki didn't miss the way it did. The corner of his lips curled into that infuriating smirk, the same one he'd worn the moment you slapped him. It was a mix of confidence and mischief that sent a jolt through you straight down to your heart and heat, igniting the tension in the air.
—
You hated it.
You hated his effect.
The way he kept teasing you.
Every time you pushed back from the table to brave the crowded bar for another round, he’d appear at your elbow moments later. The air would shift, charged with his proximity.
“What if you need help?” he’d murmur, his voice a low hum that vibrated right through you, drowning out the thumping music. It was never a question. It was a statement. An excuse.
He wouldn’t actually help, of course. That wasn’t the point. He’d just lean against the bar next to you, a silent, smirking sentinel, his presence a tangible force that made it impossibly hard to concentrate on your order. His arm would brush yours as he ‘made space’ for someone who wasn’t there. His scent, something clean and sharp like sandalwood and night air, would cut through the stale smell of beer.
He was toying with you. And the most infuriating, thrilling part was that you were letting him, and you were loving it.
As you carved a path through the pulsing crowd toward the bar, you didn't have to look back to know Riki was a shadow at your heels, his presence a familiar, aggravating heat between your shoulder blades.
You slid onto a stool and opened your mouth to rattle off the usual order for the table, but the bartender, a guy with kind eyes and an easy smile you’d been charming all night, beat you to it.
“The usual for the party, ma’am?” he asked, already reaching for glasses. He gave you a quick, friendly wink.
You rewarded him with a soft, flirty giggle, leaning conspiratorially over the polished wood. “You know it. But,” you added, dropping your voice to a mock-conspiratorial whisper, “make one of them a water. It’s for me. I’m the designated survivor tonight.”
The bartender laughed, a full-bodied sound that seemed to irritate Riki more than any direct insult could.
And to say Riki was fuming was the barest minimum.
A muscle feathered in his jaw, ticking with a tight, rhythmic pulse. His eyebrows were practically sewn together in a deep, thunderous furrow. A soft, furious red crept up his neck, clashing violently with the cool, detached facade he’d worn all night. He wasn't just annoyed; he was unravelling within a minute. And the fact that it was over a bartender’s wink and a glass of water made it all the more enraging in his book.
He took a half-step closer, his voice a low, dangerous growl meant for your ears only, the words vibrating through the tiny space between you. “Designated survivor? Since when do you know your limits?”
A small, involuntary shiver racked your spine at the low, proprietary rumble of his voice. You felt his hands then, not snaking, but claiming, as they settled on your waist, his grip firm and undeniably possessive.
His touch was a brand through the fabric of your dress, and the heat of it seared you to your core.
This wasn't just a casual touch; it was a statement. A primal, jealous declaration that screamed mine to anyone watching, and it made your breath catch in your throat.
For a terrifying, thrilling second, you didn't pull away. You froze, every nerve ending hyper-aware of the exact points where his fingers pressed into you.
This was a show of power. A display for anyone watching, the bartender, your friends, that screamed a single, primal message: Mine. The audacity of it should have made you shove him off. Instead, a traitorous heat flooded your veins, and you hated yourself for the way your breath hitched in your throat.
"Riki," you whispered, your tone almost a whimper, your voice a strained mixture of a weak warning and something else entirely. "Let go."
His grip only tightened, a fraction of an inch, pulling you back ever so slightly against him. "Make me," he challenged, his voice still that same low, devastating murmur meant only for you. His thumb stroked a slow, deliberate arc against the sensitive dip of your waist—a silent, teasing counterpoint to his demanding hold.
You hated yourself for this; you didn't want him to let go. You wanted him there forever. His hands burned into your skin like he owned you, and the most terrifying part was the part of you that wanted to let him. Your mind screamed in protest, a last piece of pride, but your body had already surrendered, melting back against the solid warmth of his chest in a silent, shameful answer to his challenge.
"Riki–" His name was a prayer and a protest on your lips. "Please." You were begging, and you hated it. It wasn't a plea for him to stop; it was a plea for more, for an end to the agonising, delicious tension. Your thoughts were a scrambled mess, but your body’s reaction was crystal clear: a throbbing, insistent ache between your thighs, a damp heat that proved just how much his presence unravelled you. He was making you hot and heavy, and every rational thought evaporated in the face of it.
Riki was just as gone as you were. His hands locked onto your waist like he was claiming territory, his hips grinding against you with a rhythm that left no room for doubt about what he wanted. You knew that want; it was your own. And when one hand slid down to grip your ass, a soft, possessive knead that drew a broken whimper from you, any last pretence between you was shattered.
A low, dark chuckle vibrated against your ear, a sound felt more than heard. "Please?" he echoed, his voice a velvet murmur laced with iron. "Please what, sweetheart?"
His grip on your waist tightened almost imperceptibly, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle on the sensitive skin just above your hip bone. "Tell me what you're begging for." He knew exactly what he was doing to you, and the certainty in his tone was both a weapon and a promise.
"Because the way you're shaking against me isn't saying 'stop,'" he murmured, his voice a dark, thrilling vibration against your skin. He dipped his head, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he delivered the final, devastating blow. "It's saying you're mine."
The moment was shattered as the bartender reappeared, placing the tray of drinks on the counter with a clatter. He’d rimmed all the alcoholic drinks with sugar, whilst the water glass was only decorated with a small lime.
“Here’s that— oh.”
His cheerful announcement died in his throat. His eyes flickered from your flushed face, to Riki’s possessive grip on your waist, to the dark, warning look in Riki’s eyes that was as clear as a "Keep Off" sign.
A deep, embarrassed flush instantly crawled up the bartender’s neck. “Shit— sorry, man,” he stammered, taking a quick step back and raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Didn’t… didn’t know she was with you.”
He didn't correct him. Riki’s grip on your waist only tightened, a silent, arrogant confirmation. The words ‘with you’ hung in the air, transforming from an assumption into an undeniable fact.
The bartender vanished to serve other customers drinks in embarrassment, and as suddenly as he had grabbed you, Riki’s hands fell away.
The sudden lack of his heat felt like a cold shock. You almost stumbled back, your body protesting the loss of contact.
He took a deliberate step back, his expression shifting back to that infuriating, unreadable mask. He picked up his Black Russian, took a slow sip, and looked at you over the rim of the glass, a single eyebrow raised.
“Your water’s getting warm,” he said, his voice flat and casual, as if the last earth-shattering minute had never happened. The whiplash was dizzying. He had marked his territory, gotten the validation he wanted, and now he was just… done. Leaving you standing there, a trembling, wet, horny mess.
Oh, he wanted to play games? Fine. Two could play at that.
A sharp, dangerous smile touched your lips. You snatched the tray from the bar, the marked water glass a glaring testament to the scene he’d just caused. You didn’t prance; you stalked back to your table, your hips swinging with a newfound, defiant rhythm, putting on a performance meant for an audience of one.
Your friends’ chatter died down as you approached. Their eyes were wide, flicking from your flushed face to the tense set of your shoulders.
“Y/N,” Giselle asked, her voice laced with amused suspicion as you unceremoniously dropped the tray onto the table. “What the hell took so long? And why do you look like you’re about to declare war on someone?”
“Oh, nothing,” you said, your voice dripping with a casual sweetness you didn’t feel. “Just a cute boy flirting with me.” You winked at Giselle, a deliberate, playful gesture meant to be seen by everyone at the table, and one person in particular.
You brought the water glass to your lips, the one with the stupid, tiny piece of lime on it. But you didn’t take a sip. You held it there, your eyes locking directly with Riki’s from across the table over the rim.
The air crackled. His jaw tightened, his playful smirk vanishing into a hard, flat line. You saw the exact moment your words registered, the dark flicker of something possessive and dangerous in his gaze.
Giselle followed your line of sight, her eyes widening with dawning, delighted understanding. “Oh my god,” she whispered, a grin spreading across her face. “You’re trying to get yourself killed.”
You finally took a slow, deliberate sip of water, your gaze never leaving Riki’s. “Maybe,” you murmured, the word a soft, challenging promise. “Or maybe I’m just starting to play.”
The games began in earnest.
You made a show of laughing a little too loudly at something Heeseung said, your hand resting on his arm for a beat too long. From across the table, you felt the temperature drop as Riki’s knuckles turned white around his glass.
Not to be outdone, when a mutual friend slid into the seat beside him, Riki offered a smile you’d never seen before, charming, easy, and entirely directed at her. He leaned in close to hear her over the music, his hand coming to rest on the back of her chair. It was a masterclass in feigned intimacy, and it made your stomach twist.
It was a silent war of attrition, each volley designed to provoke, each calculated touch a declaration: I can make you feel this, too.
You practically rolled your eyes at his antics. You decided to raise the stakes. You excused yourself from the table and didn’t look back. You made a beeline for the group of guys by the pool table, friends of Taehyun you vaguely recognised from the reunion. You turned on the full force of your charm, laughing, flipping your hair, letting one of them show you how to hold a cue stick.
You didn’t have to look to feel Riki’s gaze burning a hole into your back. It was to the point that the girl left in frustration. You could feel his attention like a physical weight, a laser focus that drowned out all other noise. You were playing with fire, and you knew it.
—
You leaned over the pool table, lining up a shot you had no intention of making, when a familiar, sandalwood and night air scent washed over you. A cold, strong hand settled on the small of your back, not guiding, but claiming.
"Sorry, gentlemen," Riki's voice was a low, pleasant hum, a stark contrast to the ice in his eyes when you glanced up. "I need to steal my girlfriend for a moment. She promised me the next dance."
The guy with the cue stick faltered, instantly reading the territorial warning in Riki's deceptively calm smile. Before you could even form a protest, Riki’s arm was a firm, unyielding band around your waist, steering you away from the group and toward the dimly lit hallway that led to the restrooms.
His grip was possessive, his pace deliberate. He didn't say a word until he shouldered open the door to the supply closet, pulling you inside and closing the door with a soft, definitive click. The sudden silence was deafening.
“Ow– Riki, what the fuck?” You gasp out as he finally lets go of your wrist with a small red tint.
He didn’t say anything, nor did he push you against the wall. He simply caged you in, one hand on the door by your head, the other still on your waist, his body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.
“Enjoying your little game?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft. His eyes roamed your face, lingering on your lips before meeting your gaze again.
Bingo.
A slow, defiant smile spread across your lips. “Immensely,” you purred, your voice just as low and challenging as his. You didn't try to push him away. Instead, you leaned forward, closing the minuscule distance between you until your lips were a breath from his. “Though it’s more fun now that you’ve decided to be a player and not just a spectator.”
You let your eyes drop to his mouth, returning his gaze with equal intensity. “Are you enjoying it, Riki? Or is losing not really your thing?”
Riki was at a loss for words. For a breathtaking second, the cool, controlled mask he’d worn all night finally shattered. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his breath catching in his throat at your audacity, your proximity, the devastating truth of your challenge.
The silence stretched, thick and charged. Then, a low, rough sound escaped him—not a laugh, not a groan, but something raw and utterly captivated.
His hand slid from the door, his fingers instead tangling fiercely into the hair at the nape of your neck, tilting your head back. The other arm snaked fully around your waist, crushing you against him, eliminating any last pretence of space between you.
"Losing?" he finally growled, his voice a dark, ragged thing that vibrated through your very bones. His forehead dropped against yours, his eyes burning into yours with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs.
"Sweetheart, this stopped being a game the moment you walked into that party. I'm not playing to win. I'm playing for keeps."
And then his mouth crashed down onto yours. The kiss wasn't soft, no. It was filled with want, need and lust. The same one from 5 years ago, when you slapped him. The same one he enjoyed.
A low grunt escaped his lips, and soft moans escaped yours as you battled for dominance. Tongues sneaking into each other's mouths. Your hands snaked around his neck and tangled in his hair, while his hands roam around your waist and squeeze your ass in possession, making you gasp.
A win for him.
He smirked into the kiss as he slid his tongue into your mouth, the sounds wet and arousing to both of you. His hands slowly drag down your bottom to lift the fabric of your black dress just above your waist.
“Wait– Riki–” You moan into the kiss, making him instantly stop in worry, pulling away.
“Do you not want to continue, baby?” He said with worried eyebrows. His lips glistening and swollen under the dim light of the bathroom.
And you hate to say the more you look, the more you need him right now.
“No– it's not that, can we just… do it at one of our houses–? Not a fucking bathroom stall.” You muttered softly as your hand rubbed his neck to soothe him. These words instantly switched something on inside of him.
He rushed to pull down your dress just so it could cover your ass enough, and unlocked the stall to drag you with him outside. He didn't care who saw him and his boner; he could save the embarrassment for another day.
What he knew was that he wanted you as much as you wanted him.
—
You didn't even make it to the bedroom when he pushed you against the wall of his apartment. Lips crashing once again, yet this time it’s filled with lust, but a hidden sensation of… love? Softness? Care?
You couldn't tell, nor did you care.
Your hands were back tangled in his hair, and his hands were back on your ass, pushing the fabric of your dress to your hips. His fingers are dragging up and down your lower spine, making you shiver and moan into the kiss.
A ragged gasp escaped you as his knuckles brushed the sensitive skin beneath your waistband. “Fuck— Riki, please—” you begged, the words torn from your lips in less a protest and more a surrender to the agonising, electric tension coiling deep in your stomach. You were shaking, utterly at the mercy of his teasing touch.
"Up," he growled against your mouth, the command muffled by the desperate crush of his kiss. You obeyed instantly, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands caught you under your thighs, gripping your ass firmly to hold you aloft as he carried you through the hallway of his apartment. He moved with single-minded purpose, shouldering past doorframes, not even flinching as he sent a framed photo clattering to the floor, his focus entirely on you.
He lowered you onto the bed, following you down like a shadow. His shirt was gone, discarded somewhere in the frenzy. Then he was there, his hot breath ghosting over the aching heat between your legs before his mouth found you. His tongue dragged a slow, torturous stripe right through the damp fabric of your panties, and a broken moan was ripped from your throat, your entire body shuddering from the shock of the sensation. Your thighs instinctively tried to clamp together around his head, a weak attempt to contain the overwhelming pleasure. "Fuck—!" you cried out, your fingers tangling in the sheets.
He let out a low chuckle at your reaction, amused and unbothered. Those strong hands, the very ones you used to dream about years ago, gently guided your legs back into place. He pressed a soft kiss to your clit, teasing, tender. “Cute,” he murmured, voice thick with heat. “Don’t hide from me, baby.”
His teeth tugged your panties aside with deliberate care, revealing the glistening evidence of your need. The sight made him hum with quiet satisfaction, a teasing coo slipping from his lips. “All this for me?” he murmured, voice low and indulgent, pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh that made your skin ache for more.
“Riki— please,” you gasped, voice trembling with need. Your fingers tangled in his hair, desperate and firm, guiding him closer until his breath ghosted over your soaked folds. He didn’t rush. His nose brushed your clit with agonising softness, sending a jolt through your body that made your hips twitch and a moan spill from your lips.
He paused there, savouring the moment, letting the heat between you thicken. His eyes flicked up, dark and unreadable, before he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss just below your clit, mean, teasing. You whimpered, thighs tightening around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he held firm, savouring your unravelling.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and indulgent. “So sensitive already… I haven’t even started.”
You let out a desperate, broken sob, the ache between your legs growing unbearable with every second of neglect. Your clit throbbed with need, pulsing in time with your heartbeat, begging for relief. Fingers tangled in his hair, you tried to pull him closer, your grip trembling with urgency — pleading for anything, any touch, any flicker of attention.
Your hips bucked instinctively, chasing the phantom of his mouth, your body betraying you with its hunger. The air felt thick, heavy with anticipation, and the absence of his touch was maddening. You whimpered again, voice cracking as you tugged harder, nails scraping his scalp in frustration.
“Please,” you breathed, barely coherent, your voice soaked in longing. “I need you.”
He smirked against your skin, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “So needy,” he murmured, voice low and indulgent. “You think I don’t know exactly what you want?” His lips brushed your clit, featherlight, maddening. “Beg a little louder, baby. I want to hear how desperate you are.”
“Riki– I swear to God, if you don’t put your mouth on my pussy—!” The threat barely left your lips before it was swallowed by a sudden, slow lick that dragged up your soaked folds, silencing you with a gasp. Your breath hitched, body jolting as his tongue traced every inch of your arousal with maddening precision.
Then came the sharp, deliberate suction against your clit, a harsh pull that sent a shockwave through your core, forcing a moan from deep in your throat as your hips bucked upward, chasing the sensation. Your fingers clenched in his hair, nails scraping his scalp, desperate for more, for anything that would ease the ache he’d built so mercilessly.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
His mouth said everything, worshipping you with a hunger that bordered on reverence, each movement calculated to unravel you. You could feel yourself coming undone, piece by piece, under the weight of his tongue and the heat of his gaze.
“You were saying?” he murmured against your soaked folds, the low vibration of his voice sending a tremor straight through your core. The sound alone made your breath hitch, but the sensation, his lips brushing your skin, his words melting into you, pulled a sob from your throat, thick with aching desire.
His tongue moved with maddening patience, tracing slow, deliberate circles around your entrance. The wet heat of him teased the rim of your slick hole, just barely breaching it, just enough to make your walls flutter in anticipation. You could feel every subtle movement, every calculated flick and prod, like he was savouring the way your body responded to him. Trembling. Clenching. Begging without words.
Your hips rolled instinctively, chasing more, but he held you steady, his grip firm and possessive. He pulled back just enough to let his breath fan across your skin, then dipped in again, tongue pressing a little deeper, tasting you like he had all the time in the world.
“Look at you,” he whispered, voice thick and indulgent. “Falling apart just from my mouth. You’re so fucking perfect like this.”
You clenched involuntarily at the sound of his praise, a sharp, breathless whine slipping from your lips before you could stop it. Your body betrayed you, trembling under the weight of his voice and the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue.
“You like that, baby?” he drawled, voice thick with amusement, the edge of a smirk audible in his tone. “You like being praised?” His words were mocking, but laced with something darker, possessive, knowing.
The wet heat of his tongue pressed deeper, the muscle pushing past the rim of your entrance, teasing your walls with maddening precision. Your hips twitched, trying to take more, but he held you steady, savouring the way you writhed beneath him.
“Look at you,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin between each word. “So desperate for approval. So easy to unravel.”
His fingers trailed upward with deliberate intent, the pads brushing over slick skin until they found your clit. He began to rub slow, delicate circles, teasing, coaxing, never quite giving you what you craved, needed. Each motion was maddeningly precise, syncing with the rhythm of his tongue as it pushed deeper, fucking you with wet heat and unrelenting patience.
Whines spilled from your lips, soft and broken, mingling with breathy moans that echoed in the room. Your body trembled beneath him, hips twitching with every flick of his tongue and stroke of his fingers. The pressure built low in your belly, a molten ache pooling deep inside you,u sharp, insistent, but just out of reach.
His eyes flicked upward, locking onto your face as his tongue continued its slow, deliberate rhythm — thrusting in and out with maddening precision. His fingers never faltered, still circling your clit in gentle, teasing motions that kept you on the edge. Your lips were parted, cheeks flushed, and your brows drawn together in a desperate expression that made his chest tighten with satisfaction.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice low and reverent. He pulled back just enough to press a soft kiss to your inner thigh, letting his breath linger against your skin. “I want you to feel every second of it. No rushing. No escaping.”
Your fingers tightened in his hair, trembling with need. “Riki– please,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as your hips rolled helplessly beneath him. “I want to…”
He didn’t let you finish. His grip on your thighs firmed, grounding you in place as he leaned in again, lips brushing your folds but not quite touching. “Not yet,” he murmured, voice thick with control and heat. “You’ll come when I say you can. Not a second before.”
Your body trembled at his words, the ache in her belly growing sharper, deeper, a tension wound so tight it felt like it might snap.
And still, he held you there, suspended in the space between pleasure and release, savouring every moment of her unravelling.
You sobbed, the sound raw and pleading, spilling from you without restraint. You wanted to come– no, you needed to. The ache had bloomed into something feral, clawing at your insides, begging for release. Your fingers trembled in his hair, your thighs quivered around his shoulders, and your voice cracked as you gasped his name again.
“Riki– please,” you choked out, barely coherent. “I can’t… I need to…”
But he didn’t move faster. He didn’t give in. He just watched you, lips brushing your skin, eyes dark with satisfaction as he kept you on the edge, right where he wanted you.
Riki finally gives in, not out of mercy, but because he wants to watch you fall apart completely.
He watches you sob, trembling and pleading, and finally lowers his mouth again with purpose. No teasing now, his tongue and fingers work in tandem, relentless and precise. “Now,” he growls, and the permission alone sends you spiralling.
Your body arched violently, a cry ripping from your throat as the orgasm surged through you, hot, relentless, and all-consuming.
It wasn’t gentle.
It was feral, like your body had been waiting too long and now refused to hold back. Your thighs clamped around his head, fingers tangled in his hair, and your entire being pulsed with release.
But he didn’t stop.
His tongue stayed firm, thrusting deeper, licking up every wave of your climax like he was starving for it. His fingers never faltered, circling your clit with just enough pressure to keep the pleasure burning. You gasped, sobbed, tried to pull away, but he held you down, mouth locked to your core, dragging you into a second orgasm before you’d even recovered from the first.
Your body convulsed, overstimulated and trembling, the pleasure now bordering on pain, sharp, electric, and impossible to escape. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you whimpered his name like a prayer, like a plea.
“Riki—!,” you choked out, voice barely a whisper.
He finally pulled back, lips glistening, eyes dark and satisfied. His hands soothed over your thighs, grounding you, steadying the tremble in your limbs.
“You’re perfect like this,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to your inner thigh. “Completely undone. Mine.”
His chin glistened with your arousal, the evidence of his devotion smeared across his skin like a badge of pride. One hand drifted lazily up your trembling thigh, fingers trailing heat in their wake before tapping your clit with maddening softness.
The touch was featherlight, but it sent a jolt through you, a sharp, involuntary moan tearing from your throat as your thighs instinctively snapped shut around his hand, as if to shield yourself from the overwhelming sensation.
He chuckled, low and amused, the sound vibrating through the air like velvet. “Sensitive,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. “I like that.”
Then his hands moved lower, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing over the waistband of his pants. Your breath caught as he shifted back just enough for you to see it, the outline straining against the fabric, bold and unmistakable.
Holy shit.
Your eyes widened, heart stuttering in your chest. The imprint of his cock was impossible to ignore. Thick, long, and pulsing with restrained need. It looked almost unreal, the kind of thing you’d fantasised about but never dared to expect. Your mouth went dry, and your thighs clenched tighter, not from protection this time, but from anticipation.
He caught your stare and smirked, hands still hovering at his waistband. “You see what you do to me?” he said, voice low and teasing. “And I haven’t even really touched you yet.”
He let out another low chuckle, the sound vibrating in his chest as his fingers moved to the button of his pants. He didn’t rush.
Each movement was deliberate, teasing, and designed to make you watch. The button popped open with a soft click, and then came the slow drag of the zipper, the sound slicing through the thick air between you like a promise.
“Baby,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours, voice rough with heat. “This is what you did to me… when you slapped me, remember?” His tone was half amused, half reverent, like the memory itself still haunted him in the best way.
He groaned as he pushed his pants down, dragging his underwear with them in one fluid motion. The cool air hit his tip, and he hissed through his teeth, the sudden contrast making him throb with need. His cock sprang free, heavy and flushed, the sheer size of it making your breath catch. It was thick, veined, and achingly hard.
The kind of thing that made your thighs press together instinctively.
“Five years ago,” he continued, voice quieter now, almost reflective, “I would’ve killed for another slap. Another touch. Just one more taste of you.”
He shuffled closer on the bed, the tension between you crackling like static. “And now,” he whispered, reaching down to stroke himself slowly, eyes never leaving yours, “you’re right here. And I’m not wasting a second.”
“You’ve been teasing me for years,” he says, voice low and rough. “Now I’m going to show you what that’s earned.”
He hovers over you, positioning himself between your trembling thighs. His tip brushes your entrance, slick and aching, and you gasp at the contact, not quite inside, but close enough to make your body cry out for more.
But he doesn’t thrust. Not yet.
Instead, he leans down, lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You’re going to feel every inch of me. Slowly. Deeply. Until you forget how to say anything but my name.”
His hips roll forward just enough to press the head of his cock inside, stretching you with a delicious burn. Your back arches, a moan spilling from your lips as he sinks in, inch by inch, agonizingly slow, letting you feel every ridge, every pulse, every ounce of him.
And when he’s fully buried inside you, he practically moans at the feeling of your warmth. He pauses, letting you adjust, letting you feel the weight of him.
“Five years,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion and lust. “And now you’re mine.”
His hips began to move, slow and deliberate, each thrust sinking deeper than the last, dragging a moan from your throat with every inch. He stayed close, chest pressed to yours, lips brushing your ear as he whispered sweet nothings, words soaked in possession, and aching desire.
“You feel so good,” he breathed, the rhythm of his thrusts syncing with the cadence of his voice. “I’ve dreamed of this… of you… every damn night. Ever since high school… fuck–”
His breath was hot against your skin, his words wrapping around you like silk, grounding you in the moment even as your body trembled beneath him. He kissed the shell of your ear, your jaw, your neck, each touch soft, almost like he was worshipping you, in contrast to the slow, deep roll of his hips.
“You’re mine,” he repeated, voice rougher now, more certain. “Every inch of you. Every sound you make. Every time you clench around me like that…”
You gasped, nails digging into his back as the pleasure built again, slow and steady, like a tide rising with no intention of retreating. He didn’t rush. He wanted you to feel it — all of it — the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the truth in his voice.
And you did. You felt everything.
Riki leans over you, his cock heavy and flushed, brushing against your slick folds as he hovers just out of reach. His eyes are locked on yours, dark, intense, and filled with something deeper than lust. Something that’s been simmering for years.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he murmurs, voice low and reverent. “To feel you. To hear you. To have you like this.”
He slides the tip along your entrance, gathering your wetness, teasing you with slow, deliberate strokes that make your breath hitch and your hips chase him. But he doesn’t give in, not yet. He wants you to feel every second of it.
Then, with one steady roll of his hips, he pushes inside you again.
The stretch is deep, delicious, and overwhelming. Your body arches, a gasp escaping your lips as he fills you inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt. He groans, a sound torn from his chest and leans down to kiss you, slow and possessive.
His thrusts begin again, deeper now, more purposeful. He’s not just fucking you — he’s claiming you, grounding you in every moment, every breath, every sound.
“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips. “And I’m never letting you go again.”
“Fuck– Riki– I'm gonna…!” The words tore from your throat, half moan, half sob, your voice trembling with the force of what was building inside you. Your body was no longer yours; it was his, completely, trembling and arching beneath every thrust, every whispered word, every brush of his skin against yours.
Your second orgasm surged toward you like a tidal wave, stronger, deeper, more consuming than the first. It wasn’t just pleasure, it was release, desperation, and years of longing crashing together in one overwhelming rush. Your thighs trembled, your nails dug into his back, and your breath came in broken gasps as your body clenched around him, begging for permission, for relief.
And you could feel it. The way Riki’s rhythm faltered, the way his breath hitched against your neck, the way his grip on your hips tightened like he was holding on for dear life. He was close too. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his cock pulsed inside you, the way his groan rumbled low in his chest as he buried himself deeper.
“Come for me,” he growled, voice thick and wrecked, lips brushing your ear. “Let go. I want to feel you fall apart around me.”
And with that, you shattered. Completely, utterly, beautifully.
Your body convulsed around him, the second orgasm crashing through you like waves, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath his weight. Riki groaned, low, as your walls clenched tight around him, dragging him over the edge with you. His hips stuttered, and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep, spilling into you with a broken moan that sounded like your name.
For a moment, everything was still.
The only sounds were your ragged breaths, the soft hum of the night outside, and the quiet thud of his heartbeat against your chest. His forehead rested against yours, damp with sweat, and his arms wrapped around you like he couldn’t bear to let go.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, voice hoarse and reverent. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over you.”
You blinked up at him, dazed and flushed, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along his spine. There was something raw in his eyes, not just lust, but longing. History. The weight of five years spent wanting, waiting, aching.
He kissed you then, deep and grounding. Not rushed. Not hungry.
Just… real.
And in that kiss, you felt it: the promise of something more. Not just sex.
Not just heat. But the beginning of something that had waited far too long to bloom.
I feel like husband!Jay would be the most luxurious and sensual lover. Only the best silks, lingerie, cologne, oysters, wine, organic breakfast ingredients, and lots of massages, body worship, and bubble baths/hot tubs.
HUSBAND JAY ! 18+
riri’s note ! gurl... you know what? I just had to write this up... because I love this more than I should...
warning(s) ! smut, mdni, arranged marriage themes, penetrative sex, service/dom husband, body worship, cum inside, shower/bath sex mentions, light bondage, consensual power play, lmk if more.
When you first married Jay, bound by arrangements strung up by your families, you never imagined you’d start loving him. The man was polished, distant, a little too perfect in his suits and cologne. But the weeks stretched into months, and slowly, the house stopped feeling so quiet.
He cooked—God, did he cook. Perfectly seared fish, eggs fluffy as clouds, toast made from grainy bread he swore was organic, wine paired exactly to your mood. You still remember standing in the kitchen in your work clothes while he slid a forkful of risotto between your lips with the softest grin, like feeding you was a privilege. On days when you cooked, he’d stand behind you, chin balanced on your shoulder, whispering compliments until you flushed.
It didn’t stop there. A month into the marriage, you started finding presents sprawled across the bed—silk slips in your size, perfume bottles, lace sets you couldn’t imagine yourself wearing until he coaxed you into them. He’d linger in the doorway, eyes hungry yet patient, waiting for your reaction. Always hinting at more, but never pushing until you gave him the yes.
Soft jazz played one evening when you lay face down on his bed, bra off, your back gleaming with oil as his hands kneaded the knots out of you. His fingers pressed between your shoulder blades, sliding lower, palms spreading across your waist like he was shaping you with touch alone. Other nights, he drew you warm bubble baths, dimming the lights until the bathroom smelled of roses and vanilla, his shadow a constant at your side as he rinsed the suds from your skin.
When you finally consummated, his cock stretched you open in a way that had you clawing his shoulders, your legs trembling as you wrapped them tight around his waist. He kissed your mouth, your throat, the valley of your breasts, his voice hoarse against your lips. “Too much?” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours as his cock pushed deeper, thick veins dragging slow across your walls, pulling wet sounds out of your body that made his composure crumble. His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, massaging the stress out of you even as you whimpered at the intrusion.
Your cunt gushed around him, creamy slick spilling as your nails dug crescent moons into his back. He groaned when your walls fluttered, unable to hold back himself, spilling thickly inside you as you sobbed into his neck. His body collapsed half over yours, trembling as he whispered your name like a prayer.
After that night, the months were nothing but sensual love. He still made breakfast with ingredients so fresh they tasted like sunlight. Still poured you oysters and wine on date nights. But now he was there in the bath too—your back to his chest as he washed your tits under the hot spray, his cock pressing against your ass while his soapy fingers slid between your thighs to touch your folds. Some nights he took you slow, his lips trailing down your stomach as he worshipped you. Other nights he bent you over the bathroom sink, fucking you hard enough your moans fogged the mirror.
Jay loved silk, and he loved you in it. He’d buy lingerie so sheer your nipples pressed through, lace panties that clung to your folds until he tugged them aside with practiced fingers. “Too much?” he’d murmur, always asking as his lips circled your nipple, his tongue teasing through the fabric until you writhed. He’d bind your wrists softly with ribbon, kiss your throat as his knuckles dragged down your stomach, until your thighs spread wide without him having to ask.
One night, the bedroom glowed only with candles, roses blooming on the nightstand, wax scent mixing with your perfume. He stayed dressed—still in his suit, still pristine—while you lay open in lace he had chosen. The contrast alone made your pussy ache. He stroked himself lazily, cock heavy and veined, precum pearling at the flushed mushroom tip before he pressed it against your folds, tapping gently until the wet sound filled the room.
“Want this?” he teased, sliding just the head inside before pulling away, letting the soaked fabric of your panties stretch with it. You whimpered, hips rolling, face burning.
“Want it… inside,” you finally admitted, words shameful and breathless.
He held your chin, kissed you slow, whispered against your mouth “Baby, we’re married. It’s okay.” And when he finally slid inside, deep and deliberate, his cock spreading you inch by inch, the lace pushed aside but still brushing your clit, you swore you’d never feel love like this again. Arranged or not, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
I've Loved You For Almost As Long As I've Been Alive ──★ ˙
── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──
꒰ ﹒ pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader … ﹒ childhood friends to lovers au, loser! sunghoon and loser!reader, he falls first and harder, fluff﹒ w/c: 10k~ summary: you and sunghoon are attached at the hip after you beat up a kid in primary school for him. he's just very sweet and in love with you. he has eyes for nobody but you.
꒰ ﹒ warnings: does contain smut at the end so NSFW (18+), fingering, praising, very nervous and gentle sunghoon, bear hug method iykyk
꒰ ﹒ note: i am always down for the loser! sunghoon agenda please enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!
── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──
In primary school, Sunghoon is the only kid in class with extremely thick glasses. It doesn’t help that he’s shy, so the kids tend to pick on him a little. Their favorite thing to call him is Bug Eyes. He doesn’t say much to defend himself. He just remains quiet and plays on his own most of the time. Y/N, on the other hand, is talkative and friendly. She considers herself friends with everyone in her class, including Sunghoon, even though he isn’t much of a talker.
During recess, she notices how Sunghoon remains by himself, playing on the swings alone. She always invites him to play tag with the rest of the kids, but he shakes his head.
One day, instead of playing tag with everyone else, Y/N sits on the swing next to Sunghoon. They swing in silence for a few minutes until she turns to him.
“Do you want to see something cool?” She asks him.
He looks over at her skeptically, but once he sees her big smile, he reluctantly nods. She cheers before getting up from her swing and grabbing his hand, pulling him to a rocky patch at the edge of the park. Sunghoon watches curiously as she starts flipping over the rocks and moving rotting leaves with a stick.
“Aha!” she exclaims, moving the leaves with her hands. “Look!”
He peeks over her shoulder to see a metallic green beetle scuttling along the dirt. He cringes away immediately with a small shriek. She looks up at him and giggles.
“Isn’t it cute?” she asks, picking up the beetle with her fingers.
“D-don’t touch it,” he stammers.
“Why not? My dad said they’re harmless,” she says, holding out the beetle towards him.
Sunghoon takes multiple steps back. He’s scared of the bug, but he’s also wondering if she’s doing all of this as a way to make fun of him. He’s “Bug Eyes” after all. She notices his discomfort and puts the beetle back underneath the leaves.
“You don’t like bugs?”
He shakes his head.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, walking over to him. “I love bugs.”
He stares at her as if she’s lost her mind.
“I think they’re cute,” she says, “You don’t like any bugs?”
He shakes his head.
“Not even butterflies?”
He shakes his head again.
“What do you like then?”
“I like fish…” he says softly.
“Fish are cool. Do you have a favorite?” she asks.
Sunghoon nods and starts to quietly tell her about his favorite fish. It’s the first time Y/N has ever gotten him to talk to her for more than three sentences, and she’s excited. She keeps asking him about different fish, if he likes fishing, if he has any pet fish, and so on. Sunghoon slowly opens up and happily answers her questions.
“What’s your favorite bug?” he asks shyly.
This triggers a long spiel from Y/N about different types of bugs she likes. By this point, they’re back on the swings, and Sunghoon is gently swinging his feet and listening to her quietly with a bashful smile on his lips.
One day during P.E., when they’re both age 7, groups needed to be formed to play a game of dodgeball. As students were being picked one by one, Sunghoon stood there awkwardly knowing the teams would fight to NOT get him on their team.
“Bug Eyes is so uncoordinated.”
“Yeah, he’ll make us lose.”
“Hey, stop that!” Y/N storms over to the two boys that were making fun of Sunghoon.
Sunghoon stands quietly with his head slightly downcast. She has her hands on her hips and a frown on her face.
“What? It’s true,” one of the boys says.
“Say you’re sorry,” she huffs.
“Or what?” the other boy challenges.
Sunghoon watches with horror as she picks up a dodgeball and hurls it at the boy’s face. The sound the ball makes as it slaps the boy’s cheek echoes through the gymnasium, making everyone fall silent and look over in their direction. The boy that got hit starts crying while his friend looks back at Y/N with fire in his eyes.
“Bug Girl is defending Bug Eyes. How fitting,” he snarls.
He picks up a dodgeball, rolling it in his hand.
“It’s a perfect match,” he says just before he hurls the ball at her.
She tenses and closes her eyes, waiting for the ball to hit her. She hears another slap of the ball against skin, but she doesn’t feel anything hit her. When she opens her eyes, she finds Sunghoon on the floor in front of her with his glasses broken and scattered on the ground.
“Oh my god. Are you okay?” she crouches down to look at Sunghoon. His face is red from where the ball hit him. He nods ever so slightly, his hand trembling as he cradles his face.
Y/N’s head snaps up to glare at the other boy. Before anyone could stop her, she hurls herself at him, knocking him down to the floor with a thud. She starts yanking at his hair as he begins to scream.
The fight is over quickly, the teacher pulling Y/N off the boy and sending them all to the principal’s office. She gets suspended from school for a week, and when she comes back she’s shunned by most of the kids in her class.
She’s swinging alone during recess when a timid Sunghoon comes up to her. His glasses are taped back together and his hands are clasped together in front of him.
“Do you want to see something cool?” he asks softly.
She nods, her eyes flickering down to his hands. He unclasps them to reveal a spotted black and white beetle. Her eyes sparkle with excitement.
“Oh my god. An ironclad beetle!” she exclaims.
As she gets closer, she notices his hands slightly shaking. She immediately takes the beetle from his hands and watches as he brings his arms back to his sides and wipes his hands on his pants.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“For what?” She asks as she watches the beetle crawl between her fingers.
“For making everyone hate you.”
“It’s okay. You’re cooler than all of them combined,” she smiles.
Sunghoon looks down at his shoes, a pink blush painting his cheeks.
From then on, they are practically inseparable.
His favorite thing to do with her is explore the pocket of woods behind his house. It’s the perfect place to play pretend. Some days they’re wizards making potions with dirt and leaves, other days they’re pirates looking for treasure. Sunghoon particularly likes digging in the creek to see what he can find. Y/N likes pretty rocks which leads to him compiling different rocks and bringing them to her to inspect.
One day, when they’re both age 8, he’s ankles deep in the creek while Y/N is climbing a nearby tree. He’s using a net to sift through the debris in the water when he finds a rock with many tiny ridges. When he looks closely at it, it looks like some sort of bug. His face immediately lights up.
“Y/N!” he exclaims, stumbling through the muddy creek bed to get ashore.
She’s halfway up the tree when she stops and looks down at him. He excitedly waits at the base of the tree trunk and holds up the rock for her to see.
“I think I found a fossil,” he says.
“No way!” She beams and climbs down as quickly as she can.
Sunghoon watches with a smile on his face as her eyes light up at the small fossil. Her finger traces over the ridges.
“It looks like a trilobite,” she says.
Sunghoon stares at her.
“Ancient pill bug,” she clarifies.
“Ohhh,” he nods. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she smiles. “You’re always finding all the cool stuff.”
“I can show you where I found it. Maybe we can find some more,” he says, grabbing her arm gently and pulling her towards the water.
They search for another hour, but they don’t find any more fossils. When Sunghoon is crouched down sifting through the rocks, Y/N comes up behind him and pushes him forward. Since the water isn’t too deep, only half of his body gets wet. He looks up at her in disbelief, and she’s laughing.
“Maybe if I bury you, you’ll turn into a fossil,” she says, grabbing a handful of mud and throwing it at his chest.
“Hey—” he’s cut off by another handful of mud hitting his shoulder.
He stops talking and starts grabbing handfuls of mud and throwing them back at her, making her squeal and run away. They chase each other until they’re both covered in mud from head to toe, leaves and twigs stuck to their bodies from rolling around on the ground. They’re giggling messes.
There’s something about the way the leaves cling to her hair that make him stop in his tracks. The way her smile shines brighter with mud all over her face, and her little giggles as she bends down to grab more mud. Something stirs within him, but he doesn’t know what that feeling is exactly. He just can’t stop staring.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” Y/N asks teasingly.
“Um…mud.”
“Yes, I know, stupid,” she laughs.
He’s glad that the mud on his face covers his blushing cheeks.
Y/N doesn’t realize she has feelings for Sunghoon until she’s 11 and he starts wearing contact lenses. Suddenly girls are talking about how cute he is and that they didn’t know he was so good looking without his glasses on. It starts to irritate Y/N overhearing the girls in her classes whisper and talk about him.
“Why’d you stop wearing your glasses?” She asks him. “You look better with glasses.”
Sunghoon frowns. “Are you saying I’m ugly?”
“No!” She immediately interjects. “I just think you should go back to wearing your glasses.”
“Why?”
She groans and paces around for a moment. She’s frustrated she can’t put her thoughts into words. She can’t put her thoughts in order at all. Sunghoon watches her grow even more restless.
“If it bothers you that much, I’ll start wearing my glasses again,” he says quietly.
“No. It’s okay,” she sighs, defeated. “It’s not the glasses that’s bothering me.”
Sunghoon’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What’s bothering you then?”
Suddenly, Y/N gets shy, which hardly ever happens. Sunghoon’s eyes widen as he catches the tips of her ears turning pink along with the apples of her cheeks. His heart flutters at the sight.
“It’s just,” she pauses, collecting her thoughts. “It’s making me mad how people are suddenly interested in you just because you got rid of your glasses.”
He stares at her with a stunned expression on his face, which makes her keep going.
“You’ve always been an amazing person, and I’ve been with you since the beginning. All these other people don’t deserve you,” she grumbles.
Sunghoon’s heart is about to leap out of his chest at her words. He looks away bashfully, trying to hide the small smile on his lips.
“Don’t worry,” he says softly, “you’re the only person I want to be close with.”
Their eyes meet momentarily, both of their faces red with blush. She looks away, not being able to maintain eye contact with him. He smiles and looks down at his hands.
The next day he wears his glasses again.
One day, when they’re 13, Sunghoon’s family goes on their yearly weekend trip to a cabin, and he begs his parents to let Y/N come this time. During the trip, Sunghoon teaches Y/N how to fish.
“Ugh, I’m boredddd,” she groans.
They’re standing at the edge of the pier with their fishing lines cast out into the lake. They’ve been waiting for a total of 30 minutes so far.
“Fishing is all about patience,” he tells her.
“What if I went into the water and tried catching one with my hands?” She asks.
“You’ll scare the fish away,” Sunghoon clicks his tongue.
“But what if I stayed still and waited for the fish to jump and come to me. Like how the grizzlies do it.”
“They can only do that because the fish are swimming upstream. We’re at a lake,” Sunghoon points out.
She groans again. Her next complaint is cut short when something starts pulling at her fishing line. She practically screams.
“Sunghoon, what do I do?” She frantically grabs the fishing pole.
He chuckles and grabs her hand, placing it on the reel handle. He moves her hand clockwise, causing the fishing line to pull towards them.
A fish about the size of Y/N’s foot splashes up out of the water, dangling from the end of the hook. Sunghoon grabs the fish and holds it out for her to see. It wiggles in his grasp.
“Oh my god. It’s kind of cute,” she says. “Can I hold it?”
He places the fish in her hands, showing her how to hold it without dropping it. He grabs a bucket and fills it with some of the lake water.
“You can put it in there. We can eat it for dinner,” he says.
Y/N freezes. “Eat?”
Sunghoon looks up at her, slightly confused. What else were you supposed to do with a fish you just caught? He sees the tears welling up in her eyes and he immediately starts backtracking.
“Or you can release it back into the water,” he says.
She sniffles and nods. He watches as she bends down at the edge of the pier and lets the fish wiggle out of her grasp and slide back into the water.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“It’s okay. We can eat something else,” he reassures her.
“I was talking to the fish,” she says.
Sunghoon chuckles softly and walks up to her crouched figure.
“Maybe fishing isn’t for you,” he starts, “did you want to go look for some cool bugs in the woods?”
She shakes her head. “You don’t like bugs.”
“That doesn’t mean I won't help you.”
“But I want to do something we both enjoy,” she murmurs.
He smiles and squats down next to her. She glances over at him with tearful eyes.
“There’s a waterfall not too far down the trail into the woods. Do you want to go see it together?” He asks softly.
She sniffles and nods again. “That sounds fun.”
“Okay. Let’s go,” he says, standing up straight and holding out his hand for her to take.
They often have sleepovers at each other’s houses on the weekends, but this particular sleepover when they’re 14 is different. They’re watching a movie in Sunghoon’s room like normal until Y/N turns to look at him.
“Have you ever kissed anyone, Sunghoon?” she asks abruptly after seeing the two main characters in the movie share a kiss.
Sunghoon practically chokes on the popcorn he’s eating.
“W-why are you asking?” he coughs, trying to avoid eye contact.
Y/N sighs and leans back on the headboard of his bed.
“I keep hearing every girl in class talking about the boys they’ve been kissing. I’m just curious.”
He remains quiet for a second, not knowing where this is going.
“No. I haven’t,” he finally says.
“Thank god,” she sighs in relief.
Sunghoon’s heart leaps in his chest, and suddenly all he’s thinking about is what it would be like to kiss her. His eyes flicker to her face for a brief moment, his face turning red. He quickly looks away.
“W-what?” he stammers.
She turns to look at him. She immediately notices how shy he’s gotten.
“I’m not the only loser that hasn’t kissed anyone yet,” she says.
Sunghoon’s mouth falls open, and his head snaps over to look at her in disbelief. She smiles at him, making his face turn even redder. He frowns slightly, but his eyes flicker down to her curved lips.
“Why does that make us losers?” he mumbles.
“It doesn’t,” she says, “I just feel like I’m missing out.”
Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows together. He didn’t understand the need to fit in with what most of the other kids at school were doing. He thought their idea of fun was boring.
“So you want to kiss whoever just to say you’ve kissed someone?” he asks, his tone of voice growing slightly irritated.
She shakes her head.
“No, I want to kiss someone I’m comfortable with.”
Their eyes meet for a second, and Sunghoon’s throat dries up. He looks away again.
“You’re the only person I’m comfortable enough with,” she starts, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can always wait for someone else to—“
“NO!” he practically screams. His cheeks turn pink when he startles her with his objection. “I-I mean…I can help you…i-if you want.”
“Really?” She smiles.
His eyes flicker to her mouth again, and he nods.
“Are you sure?” She asks again. She scoots closer to him, making his heart race.
He nods again.
She leans forward slightly, her eyes glancing down at his lips. They’re slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in short breaths. He stays completely still, letting her get closer and closer until there's no space between them anymore. He freezes when he feels her lips press against his. He closes his eyes and stops breathing for a second. The kiss is over before he can fully register what happened.
He blinks at her, his emotions tangling in knots inside him. He’s absolutely terrified. How does this change their relationship? Does she like him too?
“Um…” he starts.
She’s watching the TV again, rewinding the movie to the part where the main leads are kissing again.
“Do you want to try that?” She asks.
Sunghoon glances over at the screen, watching as the characters move their lips against each other’s. He swears he saw a tongue peek through.
His face is flushed when she turns to look at him. She watches him, waiting for his reply.
“I’m sorry. I’m making you uncomfortable,” she says after he’s taking a little too long to give her an answer. “That stuff should be reserved for someone you like.”
Sunghoon’s heart sinks to his stomach. She’s getting the wrong idea from his stunned silence, but it’s already too late. She turns back to watch the movie, skipping the makeout scene.
For the next few weeks, Sunghoon tries multiple times to bring up the topic of kissing again, but he gets too flustered. He’s losing sleep because of it. He keeps replaying what happened in his head and groans at how he handled it.
Things between them hadn’t necessarily changed since they kissed or at least it didn’t seem like it from the outside. On the inside, both of them were dealing with some very conflicting and heavy emotions.
Sunghoon was under the impression that Y/N didn’t like him in a romantic way because she mentioned kissing as something to mark off a bucket list, not something she wanted to do with him because she had feelings for him. Y/N, on the other hand, was under the impression that Sunghoon didn’t like her in a romantic way because he refused to keep kissing, and that he only agreed to kiss her in the first place to help her as his friend.
So what do they do? They act like it never happened, but it doesn’t stop their feelings for each other from consuming every fiber of their being.
Then they hit puberty. Their physical and emotional changes alter their dynamic significantly.
Sunghoon grows taller and his voice grows deeper. He stops wearing his glasses again, causing girls at school to chase after him. Y/N also grows taller, but not by much. Her body is changing and Sunghoon is definitely noticing, especially after one summer at the pool where he almost drowned after seeing her wear a bikini for the first time.
Sunghoon is very attractive…just extremely beautiful. It has Y/N fighting for her life. She has to endure all these girls at school confessing to him and fawning over him. When a particularly pretty and popular girl shows interest in Sunghoon, it has Y/N losing her mind. She’s scared that eventually Sunghoon will date and forget about their friendship. She’s jealous. She wants him all to herself.
She’s jealous for no reason, though, because Sunghoon does not give any girl the time of day. He’s polite, but he always declines their confessions or attempts to ask him out. Most of the time, he sees right through these girls’ intentions. They find him attractive, but they don’t like him for who he is. They compliment his looks and make assumptions about what he’s like, and when they ask him about himself and they find out he likes fishing and playing chess, they look at him with a blank stare.
Meanwhile, Y/N gets no play. It’s not because she isn’t pretty. She just gives no attention to any guys. She has a habit of scowling at any man that looks her way. They just don’t compare to Sunghoon. He’s all she ever needs in a man, even if it’s just as friends.
Sunghoon grows a little too comfortable in the fact that Y/N doesn’t have any secret admirers, so when she starts ranting to him about a supposed stalker in her economics class, he has to remain calm. She describes how this guy is always staring at her, smiling at her, trying to talk to her. He comes up to her desk and asks why she’s always so quiet and what her hobbies are. Somehow this guy finds out that she likes bugs and tries to start a conversation with her about it.
“He’s just so creepy, Sunghoon,” she groans. “Whenever I walk into class, he’s already staring at me.”
Sunghoon is clenching his fists at the mere thought of this random guy clearly having a crush on her. He wishes he had the class with her so he could glare at him, but all he can say is, “Yeah, he seems weird. You should ignore him.”
He teases her a lot more too. Maybe it’s puberty or maybe his feelings are just harder to contain, but looking at her pretty face makes him get cuteness aggression. He loves getting a reaction out of her.
He loves to randomly come up to her and play fight with her. He throws playful punches at her arms and dodges her failed attempts to hit him back. He sometimes lets her hit him, but it just ends up with him tackling her playfully onto the couch or bed.
“What happened to my sweet Sunghoon?” Y/N whines. “Now I just have a bully.”
He smiles at her fondly, “You’re just fun to mess with.”
“It’s only fun for you. I’m out here getting assaulted,” she continues pouting.
His smile grows wider, and he extends his arms out in playful surrender. “Okay. Hit me then.”
She glances over at him quizzically. When she sees he’s being serious, her expression changes into something mischievous. Before Sunghoon could backtrack, she pulls his sweatpants down leaving him in his boxers.
“What the—“
As he’s bending down and picking up his pants, she jumps on his back and puts him in a chokehold.
“Y/N—“
“This is what you get,” she says playfully.
He starts laughing and takes a few steps back until the back of his knees hit the edge of his bed. He purposefully falls backwards, landing on top of her. Her arms slacken around his neck, allowing him to pull free and spin around to face her. He pins her arms down and smiles triumphantly. When he looks down at her, her cheeks are painted pink and her eyes are fixed somewhere to the side. That’s when he realizes the position they’re in and blushes.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, getting off of her and sitting down on the bed.
“It’s okay,” she says, sitting up. “Sorry for pulling your pants down.”
“It’s okay. It was funny,” he replies.
They sit in silence for a moment.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asks, getting up to turn on the TV.
Girls eventually leave Sunghoon alone when it’s clear he only ever has eyes for Y/N. No one knows how they are able to stay just friends with the amount of tension between them. All of their classmates can see it except for Sunghoon and Y/N. God forbid they ever have a class together because they will be giggling and whispering in the back of the room the whole time. They always disappear during lunch hour to sneak onto the track field and lay in the grass. They walk home together after school every day, always going to each other’s places to hang out.
You would think they’d get bored of each other eventually, but they’re always finding things to do together. They also love to do their own separate things in the same vicinity. Y/N would be working on her latest crafting project on her desk while Sunghoon is on her bed playing with a deck of cards trying to learn magic tricks. When Sunghoon wants to go fishing, Y/N will sit on a floaty and read. They’re comfortable with silence as long as they’re together.
“Would you rather fight ten, kid sized Y/Ns at the same time or one, 10 foot tall, buff, Y/N?” Y/N asks Sunghoon as they’re sitting in her bed with face masks on during a sleepover.
“Oh god. They both sound terrifying,” he says with horror.
She hits his shoulder playfully, making him giggle.
“Mm…” he thinks about it a little too seriously. “You were very feisty as a kid, so having to fight ten of you at the same time…I think I’ll take my chances with the buff Y/N. I feel if someone is that tall and buff, they will be slow. I just have to dodge.”
Y/N rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t that bad.”
“You got suspended for fighting that kid remember? You definitely gave off ankle biter—OW!”
Y/N starts to yank at his hair, stopping him mid-insult. He grabs onto her wrist to try and get her fingers out of his hair.
“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry.”
She releases his hair, and he glares at her.
“Now I’m questioning my decision. I’m scared what a buff Y/N would do in comparison to that,” he says, rubbing his scalp.
She grins at him. He stares at her for a second, a smile growing on his lips too.
Sunghoon and Y/N make the decision to attend the same university because they can’t bear the thought of being apart for 4 years. They decide to move in together, so they don’t have to deal with the school’s prison-like dorms. Off-campus student housing isn’t the best, but they make it work.
Sunghoon is still scared of bugs, so Y/N always has to catch all the spiders and moths that make their way into their apartment and release them outside or else he will be yelling and throwing things.
One time, as Sunghoon is about to go to sleep, he sees a cricket crawling on his pillow and he absolutely freaks out. He has to wake Y/N up to come catch and release it.
“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” he asks her.
“It was a cricket, not a cockroach, Sunghoon,” she groans, half asleep.
“But it touched my sheets, and I don’t want to stay awake for two more hours to wash them,” he whines slightly.
She keeps mumbling in her sleepy state and doesn’t protest any further as he follows her into her room and climbs into bed with her.
Sunghoon gets strangely more clingy once they start living together. He’s always tagging along when she goes to run errands. She needs to return a library book? He’s trailing behind her with his backpack saying he’s going to the library to study anyway. She’s going out to get a sweet drink? He’s tagging along claiming he’s never been to that coffee shop before and that he’s been wanting to try it out. Y/N doesn’t mind, though. His presence always makes things more comforting.
They’re busier due to the amount of workload some of their classes have, so he’s constantly wanting her attention. Sometimes a simple, “do you want to go eat?” will do the trick, but sometimes he has to resort to more drastic measures for her attention.
He starts off by sighing loudly. If that doesn’t work, he starts poking her repeatedly on the shoulder or sides. If all else fails, he will hug her waist and push her onto the couch.
“Why do you hate me?” He grumbles.
“Who said I hate you?” She laughs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“You don’t want to go out to eat and you’re ignoring me. Just say you hate me,” he says.
She playfully pulls at his ear. “Ok, babygirl, sorry for not giving you my undivided attention.”
The tips of his ears turn red and he buries his face in her shoulder. She pats the back of his head.
“Let’s go eat,” she says.
“No. I don’t wanna eat anymore,” he mumbles. “I’m comfortable here.”
He definitely lets her get away with more things now too. She just has to bat her eyelashes and he will willingly be dragged around to do absolutely anything. He hates how she’s able to figure it out too. It’s like she knows the effect she has on him.
“Sunghoonnnn,” she calls sweetly.
Oh no.
“Can you do my laundry? Pleaseeee,” she clings to his arm.
“I don’t want to do your stinky laundry,” he groans, trying to pull away and not look at her face before he folds.
“C’monnnn, don’t you love me? I wash your dishes when you leave them in the sink because I love you,” she says, placing her cheek against his arm.
Oh, he’s a goner. His cheeks are bright red.
“Fine, fine,” he grumbles.
One night, Sunghoon gets a call from Y/N at around one in the morning.
“Sunghoon…” he hears her slurred mumbling from the other side of the phone, and he instantly knows she’s drunk. He can hear the loud music in the background.
“I thought you said you were going to a friendly get together?” he sighs into the phone.
“I know…I lied,” she mumbles, “I’m sorryyyy. I didn’t want you to get worried.”
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Mhm,” she hums, “Can you pick me up?”
“I’ll be there in a bit,” he tells her after getting her location.
He finds her immediately. She’s outside the club, digging through the bushes.
“Y/N, what are you doing?” Sunghoon asks, the worriedness he had dissipating at the sight of her. He chuckles slightly when her head pops up from the bushes, leaves stuck to her hair.
“Sunghoonnn,” she whines, stumbling out of the bush towards him.
He grabs her by the arms, making sure she doesn’t topple over.
“I thought I heard a katydid. I can’t find it,” she frowns.
“You probably scared it away,” he says, picking the leaves from her hair.
She pouts, ducking her head to let him run his fingers through her hair to flatten out the knots caused by the bush’s branches. “But I tried to be super stealthy.”
“I know, Y/N. I know,” he says softly.
He wraps his arm around her shoulder for stability as he starts to walk her back home. She leans her whole bodyweight against his side. She’s mumbling incoherently and dragging her feet sluggishly. By the time they make it through their front door, he’s practically carrying her inside. She clings to him like her life depends on it.
“Sunghoonnn, you smell so nice,” she mumbles. Her eyes are closed as he drags her to her room and makes her sit down on the bed.
“It’s the cologne you got me for my birthday last year,” he says as he bends down to take her shoes off.
“Mmm,” she hums, “I have great taste.”
She sways slightly even though her eyes are closed. Sunghoon goes into their shared bathroom and grabs her makeup removing wipes. She tries moving her head away from his touch as he begins to wipe her face with the towelette.
“Nooo,” she whines, “I worked so hard on this makeup look.”
“I know, Y/N. It’s very pretty, but you can’t go to sleep with it on,” he says, gently grabbing her chin to hold her still as he continues to wipe it off.
“Why not?”
“You’ll get your pillow dirty.”
She groans but complies. She stops resisting and lets him finish. When he tries to get her to stand up and go wash her face in the bathroom, she whines again and flops backwards into her bed. Sunghoon sighs and gives up. He walks over to her dresser and pulls out a pair of pajamas, throwing them at her.
“Change at least,” he says.
Instead, she pulls up her covers and hides under them.
“Y/N, stop being difficult,” he sighs, ripping the covers off her completely.
“Why can’t you change me?” she whines.
“You know I can’t do that,” he says.
“Why not?”
“You need to change yourself.”
“But what if I want you to change me?”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Then I’m sleeping in this,” she gestures to her dress, her eyes still closed.
“Y/N…”
“Sunghoon…”
He sighs, “How about this? I can unzip your dress and you do the rest yourself.”
She thinks about it for a second before nodding. She sits back up, opening her eyes slightly. He helps her back to her feet, and she turns around, holding her hair out of the way as he unzips the back of her dress. He turns around and gives her some privacy as she changes into the pajamas.
“Sunghoon, you’re so nice to me,” she starts sniffling.
He turns around to find her sitting back down on her bed with tears in her eyes. He sighs and sits next to her. She immediately leans her head on his shoulder.
“I hope you never get a girlfriend,” she mumbles.
He pats her head gently, letting her talk herself out until she falls asleep.
“I think I’ll die if you get a girlfriend. Promise me you won’t get one?”
She lifts her head up from his shoulder to look at him with tear stained cheeks. His eyes soften at the sight of her.
“Y/N, you should get some rest,” he says, gently trying to lay her down.
She starts sobbing at how he evades the question.
“You probably already have a secret girlfriend. That’s why you didn’t promise me, right?” She cries.
Sunghoon sighs and grabs some tissues from the nightstand. He gently wipes the tears from her face.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Y/N,” he says.
“Then why won’t you promise me?” She looks up at him with the most adorable pout, making his eyes flicker down to her lips.
“Because I want a girlfriend eventually,” he says softly.
She starts crying again, pulling the covers over her head so he can’t keep wiping her face clean.
“Y/N…” he sighs.
He tries to pull the covers off, but her grip is strong.
“Go away, you traitor,” she hiccups.
“Y/N, you’re drunk. You should get some sleep.”
But she continues rambling.
“I thought we were going to stay together forever,” she cries, “You’re the only man that exists to me. Every other man is boring and ugly compared to you. Do other girls exist to you? Do you find them pretty? Is that why you want to get a girlfriend?”
Sunghoon’s heart races, but he tries to stay calm. He crouches down so he’s eye level to her on the bed.
“No, other girls don’t exist to me either,” he says gently.
She sniffles and peeks her head out from under the covers to look at him.
“That doesn’t make sense,” she says.
“Yes, it does,” he says, pulling the blanket lower so he can see her face fully.
“If other girls don’t exist to you, who will be your girlfriend?” She asks.
“Think about it.”
She remains quiet for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.
“I don’t know…” she mumbles eventually, making him sigh.
He notices the way her eyelids droop, fighting to stay awake. He pats her head gently.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow. You should sleep.”
She protests weakly, but he brings the covers up to her chin and tucks her in. Her eyes are closed again and her breathing even. He stares at her sleeping form for a moment before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Think about it,” he whispers before leaving her room.
Sunghoon, in fact, does not tell her tomorrow. She completely forgets the conversation, and he gets cold feet. They fall back into their routine, but Sunghoon can’t stop thinking about what she told him. She wants to stay with him forever…
“Why are you blushing?” Y/N asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Oh…nothing,” he mumbles.
They’re at the library trying to study for midterms. It’s been three hours already, and it’s getting harder to focus. Sunghoon’s mind keeps drifting off.
“So,” he starts, catching her attention. “After you graduate, what are you going to do?”
“Pick a city we want to live in, find jobs and move there. Preferably somewhere that has a lot of parks or outdoor recreation,” she says. It seems like she has it all planned out.
“As in us together?” He asks.
“Yeah. Obviously,” She looks at him, immediately noticing how flustered he’s getting. “Why? Do you not want to be together?”
The wording she uses makes his heart want to leap out of his chest.
“It’s not that. It’s just…” he pauses for a moment, debating whether or not he wants to ask this. “You don’t want to branch out on your own or anything? Live alone, be independent…get a boyfriend?”
She makes a face. “Living alone as a girl is scary, I’m already independent, and I hate men. Except you of course.”
Sunghoon remains silent. She makes him feel like he’s the center of her universe and it only makes him fall for her even more.
“So we will be old and still living together?” He asks.
She shrugs. “Why not? I can see us sitting on our porch, yelling at random kids to get off our lawn that we perfectly crafted to have a fish pond and flowers for pollinators.”
She watches him as his face turns even redder.
“You’d want to spend the rest of our lives together?” He asks softly.
“Yeah. I mean I can’t see it without you.”
They stare at each other in silence. His eyes flicker down to her lips before looking away sheepishly.
“As friends?” He asks.
It’s Y/N’s turn to blush, realizing how what she said may have come off.
“If that’s what you want,” she says. “I’m okay with being just friends.”
His heart pounds in his chest, and he looks up at her. “Just?”
She quickly realizes her slip up and hides her face behind her hands.
“I meant…” her voice trembles slightly.
“Y/N…” he smiles and gently pulls her arms to the side so he can see her clearly. “Quite frankly, if we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, I don’t want to be just friends.”
Her eyes flicker between his, her heart racing in a panic in her chest.
“Y/N…” he says softly after seeing the panic in her eyes. “I’ve loved you for almost as long as I’ve been alive.”
He gently cups her face with his hands.
“And I will love you for the rest of it.”
Her breath comes out shaky as she continues to look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in them.
“I don’t want to be just friends,” she whispers finally.
She watches as his eyes glance down at her lips then back up to her eyes. His thumbs trace her cheeks.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks.
She nods ever so slightly. His smile as he leans in makes her heart flutter. His lips are as soft and gentle as she remembers, and it makes her head spin. The kiss is short and sweet, and when he pulls away, he’s still running his thumbs across her cheeks. She blushes and tries to pull away from his touch. The smile on his lips only grows, and he leans in for another peck to her lips.
“Sorry,” he laughs. “I’m just very happy right now.”
His hand runs through her hair and rests at the back of her neck. The cuteness of her flushed face makes him gently squeeze her cheeks with his other hand, swaying her head side to side every so slightly.
“Is this what I’m gonna have to deal with for the rest of my life?” She chuckles.
“Unfortunately, yes. No take backs now,” he smiles, squeezing her cheeks again before placing another kiss on her pouty lips.
The transition between friends to lovers is surprisingly difficult for Sunghoon and Y/N despite the years of tension. They fall into their routines and end up forgetting that they’re actually a couple now.
They get shy when it comes to any form of intentional physical affection. They have always been somewhat affectionate towards each other but now there’s romantic intention behind it, and it makes them shy, especially Sunghoon.
Sunghoon has been dreaming about the day of them becoming a couple, but he’s scared of moving too fast and scaring her. This results in shy touches or Y/N having to initiate things. She teases him a lot about it.
They’re cuddling in bed, facing each other. His arm is loosely draped over her waist, and his eyes are closed as she traces his face with her fingers. There’s a small smile on his lips and a pink tint to his cheeks.
“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you this up close,” Y/N whispers. “You have a small mole under your eye.”
He hums, and his eyelids flutter open to look at her. He remains silent as he watches her admire him, a warmth spreading through his chest. Her eyes lock with his for a brief moment. The look of pure adoration in his eyes makes her melt.
“It’s kind of surreal,” he whispers. “I’ve thought about this for years.”
Y/N chuckles softly and brings her hand to cup the side of his head. Her thumb gently traces over his ear.
“Oh, you want me bad,” she teases.
Sunghoon bites his lip out of embarrassment and tries to look away.
“I mean, yeah…”
Y/N’s heart races in her chest, and a blush spreads to her cheeks and ears.
Sunghoon loves to be babied, but in private or else it hurts his pride.
After a long few days of final exams, he walks into their shared apartment. He drops his backpack on the floor by the door and shuffles to the couch where Y/N is sitting. He whines softly and lays on top of her.
“Hold me,” he says. “Comfort me.”
She laughs as he wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her neck. She rubs his back comfortingly, and he instantly melts into her. She plays and runs her fingers through his hair. He hums happily.
“Finals were that bad?” she asks after a while of silence.
“Mhm,” he hums against her neck. “It didn’t help that I was sitting next to this guy who does not know what deodorant is.”
He buries his face deeper into her neck, inhaling deeply.
“You smell so nice,” he mumbles.
The feeling of her hands running up and down his back is so comforting to Sunghoon. He wants to be even closer, wants to fuse with her if ever possible. He’s already face deep in her neck, getting lost in the smell of her body wash. His hands start roaming her sides, and he starts planting kisses to her neck.
Once she realizes what he’s doing, she clicks her tongue and gently tugs at his ear, pulling him out of her neck. He looks at her with the saddest eyes.
“Can I please just kiss my girlfriend?” he asks.
“Last time I let you do that you left my neck purple,” she glares at him.
He looks up at her with the smuggest grin on his face.
“Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?” He tries to act innocent, but the smug expression is still there.
She yanks at his ear again, and his grin turns into a pout. He buries his face back in her neck.
“Fine,” he grumbles and calms down.
Y/N has a habit of teasing Sunghoon into getting boners, especially when he’s still hesitant about initiating anything with her out of fear of making her uncomfortable. Poor Sunghoon would be fighting for his life.
A hand up his shirt and gently rubbing his belly? Hard. A playful bite on his bicep? Hard. A little tug on his hair as he lays his head in her lap? Hard.
At first he’s so embarrassed about it and apologizes, but once he finds out she’s doing it on purpose, he starts to get a little more comfortable.
He’s cooking one evening, and she comes up behind him in the kitchen and gives him a back hug. She presses her body against his back and purposely wraps her arms a little too low on his waist than normal. It really doesn’t take too long before his sweatpants tent up.
“Whatcha making?” She asks innocently, but he knows what game she’s playing now.
“Just ramen.”
“Mm.”
He plays along with it for a bit, grabbing her hands and pulling them up higher around his torso, but they always find their way back down around his hips. He turns around which makes her stop hugging him, and she looks at him as if she’s doing nothing wrong. He shakes his head and grabs her by the waist and sits her on the counter.
“Stay,” he points at her, and a smile breaks out on her lips.
He knows damn well she isn’t gonna stay.
“I’m not a dog,” she grunts playfully, swinging her leg out to poke the side of his thigh with her foot.
“I’m cooking,” he says, swatting her leg away.
She scoots closer to him, still sitting on the counter. He gives her a side eye which only makes her scoot even closer. He stirs around the ramen then turns off the stove top. He grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her back to the place on the counter she was supposed to stay at. She groans and swings her legs slightly in protest.
He cups both of his hands on her cheeks, making her go still. He looks at her briefly before pulling her face toward him and kissing her. It turns into a makeout session real quick, and she tries to wrap her legs around his waist. His hands grab her by the thighs and push them, holding them back.
“I said stay,” he whispers against the kiss, making her go crazy.
Even then he's too scared to take things too far. He presses his body a little closer to her, but other than that, he keeps things PG-13.
She gets super frustrated. She tries to give him hints by running her hands all over his body. His breathing becomes shakier, but they have never actually gone all the way before, and he’s kind of scared.
His hands are still gripping her thighs away from him, and she’s getting more desperate. She can tell he’s clearly hard and enjoying this. She grabs his waist and pulls him flush against her so he’s nuzzled between her legs, and he short circuits.
He stops kissing her and buries his face in her neck, his breath shaking and his hands on her thighs trembling slightly.
“Why are you hesitating?” She whispers softly. She runs her fingers through his hair soothingly.
He stays silent for a while, his face still in her neck as he tries to calm down.
“I’m nervous,” he whispers back.
“About what?”
“I don’t want to mess things up.”
She pulls back slightly, making him stop hiding and look at her. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes scan across her face. She smiles, trying to ease him a little.
“How would you mess things up?”
He shrugs. “A lot of ways. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He looks away shyly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and ruin everything.”
He was clearly talking about more than just what was unfolding at the moment. She brings him into a comforting hug, resting her chin on his shoulder.
“I’m scared you’ll think this was a mistake. I’ve loved you for so long…” he trails off.
“Do you not think I feel the same way?” She asks softly, her nose burying into his neck. “Every time you hesitate it makes me think you’re regretting this.”
His breath hitches, and he pulls back slightly from the hug to look at her.
“I love you, Sunghoon,” she says. “And I want you. All of you.”
His heart practically beats out his chest, his cheeks turning a bright red. He swallows nervously.
“I love you too…” he whispers, his eyes trained onto her face.
“So…” she says, running her hand down his chest
His eyes follow her hand as it stops at his stomach. They’re both blushing messes at this point, ramen long forgotten as he grabs her hand and helps her off the kitchen counter.
Their first time is definitely clumsy but cute. They’re both shy about taking their clothes off for the first time. It really solidifies their relationship switch from being friends for so long to actually being in a romantic relationship, which is both scary and exhilarating at the same time.
They start slow, just making out and their hands roaming and exploring over their clothes. When her hands make their way up underneath his shirt he practically buckles. His breath hitches, and she can feel his stomach tighten under her fingers.
She smiles against his lips before trying to pull his shirt up and off. This part was easy enough. She’s seen him without a shirt plenty of times, so he isn’t too flustered. As they continue kissing, she can feel his finger tips hesitantly slipping under her shirt and resting at her hips. He clearly wants to take her shirt off too and her cheeks turn red.
Her heart pounds in her chest as she pulls back from the kiss and looks at him. He’s like a deer in headlights, frozen, thinking he did something wrong to make her stop and pull away. He notes how flustered she looks, and it brings him a little more confidence.
He pulls her shirt up slightly then stops to look at her to see if she’s having second thoughts, but she raises her arms over her head and lets him take it off. His hands caress her bare sides, feeling the warmth of her skin. He shakily fumbles with the clasp of her bra. It takes him a bit until he’s able to get it off, but once he does, he can’t stop staring. He blushes and looks away when he catches himself staring. There’s so many thoughts going through his head. He suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
She sees the slight panic in his eyes and pulls him into another kiss. His thoughts are temporarily silenced. She presses her body against his, and the feeling of her bare chest against his makes him groan. His arms snake around her and his hands splay across her back, pulling her even closer.
He’s lost in the moment, his hands roaming across her bare back and feeling her soft skin under his fingertips. He trails kisses down her jaw and neck, feeling her pulse quicken under his lips. Her hands tug at his hair, eliciting soft grunts out of him as he trails his lips down her shoulder. He presses closer, gently laying her backwards onto the bed. His hands trace up her sides and stomach, still somehow hesitating despite being face deep into her neck.
She lets out an exasperated noise and grabs one of his wrists, leading his hand to her chest. He makes a choking sound against her neck and stops kissing for a second, his heavy breathing making the hairs on her skin stand up.
“It’s okay. Touch me,” she whispers, a slight shakiness to her voice.
She can’t suppress the soft moans that leave her lips as he begins to slowly knead her chest. His nose trails across her shoulder as he places kisses along her collarbone, her sweetly fresh scent filling his nose. His thumb circles around her nipple, playing and slightly pulling on it.
Her breathy moans make him groan with pleasure, his hips involuntarily bucking against hers. His sweatpants are practically strained around him.
“S-sorry,” he mutters, pulling his hips back slightly.
Her hands are already at his waistband. His arms brace on the bed at either side of her head, his breath shaky as he looks down at her fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. She pushes his sweatpants down his thighs, leaving him in his boxers where his arousal was even more apparent. She looks up to meet his eyes and he immediately looks away, red in the face.
She reaches up and traces his ear, the tip bright red to match his face. Her touch lingers on his earlobe before tracing down the side of his neck. She can see his adam's apple bob as he swallows nervously.
“Take mine off,” she whispers, trying to distract him from the embarrassment.
“Okay,” he whispers back.
His eyes flicker down to her bottoms which are just some pajama shorts. His fingers trace the waistband.
“Both? Or…”
It was her turn to turn beet red. He looks up at her and blushes seeing her blush.
“Unless you don’t want to—“ he immediately backtracks.
“All of it,” she cuts him off and looks away shyly, not wanting to see his face as he takes everything off and looks at her fully.
His hands are shaking as he pulls her shorts and underwear off, but once she’s lying there fully bare in front of him his breath is taken away. His hands trail up her legs, gently caressing her skin. Once they reach her thighs, he slowly kneads them and pushes them apart to look at her. She closes her eyes as if trying to hide. He notices immediately and his hands come up to grab her waist as he leans forward and places soft kisses to her face.
“What’s wrong?” He asks softly.
She shakes her head slightly, her eyes are open now but still not looking at him.
“I’m a little embarrassed…” she mumbles.
He looks at her, his gaze softening as he cups her cheek in his hand and makes her face him. He brushes strands of hair out of her face. His fingertips trace her features, running across her eyebrow bone and down her nose bridge, across her cheekbones and down her jaw until they land on her bottom lip.
“You’re so beautiful. You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he says softly. “But we can stop if you’re not comfortable.”
She looks at him as he traces her face, his eyes soft and so full of affection she wants to cry. Her bottom lip trembles slightly and he leans forward to place a tender kiss on them.
“You’re so precious to me,” he whispers against her lips.
Her arms wrap around him and into a hug, overwhelmed with emotion as he buries his face in her neck.
“I love you,” she says. Her hands run down his back, making him shiver. “I trust you.”
He hums contently into her neck but doesn’t make any moves to continue where he’d left off earlier. Instead, his hands roam her sides, caressing her curves as he gently sucks on her neck. Her grip tightens on his back, and she moves her head aside to expose more of her neck, soft whimpers leaving her lips.
The sounds she makes are making him slightly lose control. His hips press against hers, and he groans into her neck at the slight friction. He hears her breath hitch too, her hands on his back trailing down to his waist to pull at his boxers.
He pulls back from her neck to let her take them off. His eyes are fixed on her face, his cheeks flushed as he watches her gaze run down his body completely. He swallows nervously as her hands trail down his sides, stopping at his hips. His length immediately twitches at her simple touch.
“Let’s…” he swallows again. “Let’s focus on you.” He mutters.
Her eyebrows furrow as she looks up at him. Her mouth opens to say something but he quickly leans forward and kisses her. Her hands stay at his hips, slightly gripping his thighs. He feels her hands inching downward, making his head spin. He pulls back to look at her, his face flushed. His hands gently pull hers off of him, and she’s about to protest again, but he brings them up to his lips and kisses them gently.
“Let me focus on you, please,” he whispers, voice shaking. “I…if you touch me, I will probably…finish,” he looks away shyly.
This gives Y/N such a rush. Any insecurity she has about her body is completely gone seeing how worked up he is. Her hand trails down his arm and grabs his wrist. She gently guides his hand between her legs.
He says he doesn’t know what he’s doing. She guides him at first, showing him where to touch her. He’s a quick learner, though. He’s an observer. He knows he’s doing a good job by the sounds she makes and how her body responds to his touch, getting closer and wanting more. If he’s unsure, he just keeps his hand still, and her hips will move against it how she needs to.
The palm of his hand grinds on her clit as he pumps his fingers into her, making her see stars. His face is back in the crook of her neck, kissing and sucking on her skin. He can feel her tightening around his fingers, and he groans in her neck as if it’s his dick and not his fingers.
She tugs the hair on the back of his head, pulling him out from her neck to have him look at her. His eyes are glazed over. He is absolutely gone. She has to kiss him to snap him out of it, but it only works for a little while until he’s groaning and devouring her mouth.
“Sunghoon,” she pants against his lips when he even gives her time to breathe.
He responds with a sound between a hum and a grunt, but he doesn’t stop. She grabs his wrist that’s still lazily fingering her, and he immediately freezes. He pulls back and looks at her with a guilty expression. He's about to apologize, but she releases his wrist and instead wraps her hand around his length.
The facial expression he makes is so perfect, she almost thinks he finishes. She rubs the length of him along herself, coating it. He almost collapses on top of her, his breathing shaky and a raspy moan leaving his lips. She guides his tip to her entrance and his head falls forward, his hair covering his face.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “Are you sure?” He’s breathing heavily now, his eyes trained on her face.
She bites her lip and nods. His eyes flicker down to her lips as she bites them. He leans forward to kiss her again, but gently this time.
He pushes himself deeper little by little, stopping for a bit whenever he sees her face scrunch up with discomfort. He continues to kiss her until he finally bottoms out. He stays still, letting her adjust as he buries his face in her neck again. His breathing is raggedy as he tries not to cum right then and there. She runs her hands down his back soothingly as if reassuring him it’s okay. He slowly rolls his hips, thrusting shallowly, not fully trusting himself to last long.
“God, you're beautiful,” he mumbles against her jaw.
His hands are roaming up and down her body and kissing her lips. His thrusts slowly become deeper yet still gentle. Her warmth is driving him crazy. His arms wrap around her in a hug as he tries to control himself. He can feel her tighten around him, making him groan against her neck. Her fingers yank at his hair as her strangled moans brush against his ear.
“I love you. Fuck…” he pants, “you feel so good.”
He's mumbling praises into her neck as his thrusts become lazy and his hips are shuddering. That’s her undoing. He’s just so hot as he gets desperate and out of control. Her walls grip around him as she feels her orgasm, making him choke and bury himself fully into her. He groans and slightly collapses on top of her as her grip makes him finish.
He stays still for a second but then starts to thrust again. Very slowly and gently, prolonging both of their orgasms.
They’re both shaking by the end of it, bodies sweaty and heaving. She pulls him down on top of her, knowing he’s tired. He obliges, letting her wrap her arms around him. She likes the feeling of his body weight on top of her. She runs her hands down his back soothingly as both of their breathing slowly goes back to normal.
“I love you,” he whispers into her neck.
“I love you too,” she says, patting his head. “You did so good.”
He hums, his cheeks flushed. He wraps his arms around her and rolls onto his back, pulling her along with him. He smiles up at her, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. They stay in each other’s embrace for a long while. Her cheek is pressed against his chest, and he’s tracing lines onto her shoulder when her stomach growls.
“Do you think the ramen is still good?” she asks softly.
“Probably not,” he laughs. “I can make you another one, though.”
Ni-ki is the type of boyfriend that would never admit out loud how much he loves spending time with you. not even if you begged him, not even if you bribed him with kisses and strawberry milk. he loves teasing you acting like you annoy him sooo much, but when you ask him to come hang out with you even if you really don’t have much to do, he comes over immediately.
you could be doing completely different things in the same room, him on your bed, gaming or scrolling through choreography videos, and you sitting on the fluffy rug surrounded by a mess of pink chaos, and he still wouldn’t say it.
but it doesn’t really matter, because you already know. you know from the way he glances up from his phone every other second, just to check on you. from the way he scoots a little closer without realising, until his knee brushes yours. from the way he sighs dramatically when you ask him to pass you another hanger, but still hands it to you perfectly straight because he doesn’t want to wrinkle your things.
you’re organising your shirts again, something he’s seen you do at least once a week. baby pink, bubblegum pink, rose pink, dusty pink, cotton candy pink, each shade delicately folded and arranged in precise little stacks. you hum softly to yourself, and he acts like he’s not listening. but the corners of his mouth twitch when you hit a high note. he’s totally listening. “why do you have, like, ten shirts that look exactly the same?” he asks, lying upside down on your bed now, head dangling off the edge. “I don’t know,” you say, holding up two hangers, a soft smile on your glossed lips. “why do you have thirty chrome hearts boxers that look exactly the same?”
and he just scoffs, rolls his eyes and places a little kiss on your cheek.
and when you turn back around, he’s taken one of your tank tops and carefully folded it for you, all silent and casual but melted inside just for you.
sometimes he just disappears out of nowhere for a few minutes, and you don’t think much about it, maybe he’s in the bathroom or needed something. but then he’s back with his hoodie sleeves pushed up, and one of your tiny ceramic bowls in his hands acting all chill like it’s not a big deal. he walks over casually and sets it beside you on the rug. of course, inside the bowl there’s strawberries and cream. perfectly sliced, perfectly covered like a beautiful dessert. “made a snack.” his voice is dry and uninterested, but you always notice the little blush on his ears while he flops onto your bed again. and ten minutes later when you’re almost done with the strawberries, the corners of your mouth messy with the cream, he just stretches his hand and wipes it off softly before stealing a little kiss.
it’s the little things he does like these, that you love and make you feel like the luckiest girly alive.
and just as it’s always cozy with Ni-ki in the day, it’s even cozier in the nights. it’s almost like when the sun goes down, his focus softens and turns to you fully. It’s just the two of you in your warm little bubble, fairy lights and soft music and pink shadows.
Ni-ki never says it, but he loves watching you get ready for bed.
the moment you open your drawer and hold up two of your silky little nightgowns, decorated with lace and bows and pastel colours, and ask him sweetly “which one should I wear tonight?” his face changes. he pretends yo scroll on his phone or shrug casually from your bed but you notice the corners of his mouth lifting and his gaze getting just a bit darker. but inside, it drives him absolutely insane that you’re standing there, bare-legged, holding up something soft and delicate that’s going to cling to your body in all the right ways. “doesn’t matter.” He mumbles “they’re all the same”
but Ni-ki always chooses one, pointing lazily at the shorter one with laced edges. and he always watches you disappear into the bathroom exhaling through his nose because you’re going to be the death of him one of these days.
when you come back, he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen even though he’s trying so hard not to show it. you crawl into bed besides him, your soft skin brushing with his, you see his gaze trailing down your legs. and it’s not just the way you look, Ni-ki doesn’t love you just because of that, but because how you make him feel. you besides him soft and sleepy and safe, your skin against his, the scent of your vanilla lotion, your little giggles at the tv, you cuddled into his chest with one leg thrown over his.
that’s what he really loves. staying over and late and yours.
but even if he’s soft and sweet with you, he can’t really help himself when he kisses you slow like the night outside your window. his lips meet yours with lazy precision, memorizing the taste of you all over again, like there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing than sitting here with you in your silky nightgown, bathed in the hazy lamplight of your room. you feel his hands graze your thighs, Ni-ki’s touch is always warm against your skin, as he tugs you gently onto his lap. and there, nestled against his chest with your arms around his neck, it’s easy to melt and to lean into the kiss, to let him part your lips and steal little sighs from the back of your throat. it’s sweet, soft it makes your chest flutter with love and affection even when his touches become a little less innocent.
and when you move a little on his lap, not even thinking, he exhales through his nose, voice low and rough as it brushes your lips:
“baby…” yes, that’s all it takes. he melts, brain gone, only you inside his head and to be fair, it’s only him in yours too.
his hands grow firmer, fingers digging into your hips with barely restrained want. his lips return to yours with more urgency, leaving your head spinning, his mouth sliding messily over yours like he can’t get close enough, and you become needy immediately, because he knows how to do everything with just the right amount of tenderness and filth.
your nightgown rides up bit by bit with each roll of your hips, silky fabric bunching at your waist, and Ni-ki doesn’t stop it, he welcomes it. his hands slip beneath the material, tracing slow patterns over your bare skin, worshipping you with every touch because his little soft princess looks so cute even like this, soft laced panties soaking against the cotton fabric of his sweatpants. and it drives him crazy, you alwayw do. “you don’t even know,” he murmurs against your neck, voice thick and reverent, “how good you look like this.”
his kisses trail lower, messier now, open-mouthed and wet along your jaw, your collarbone, the edge of your shoulder. you feel his teeth graze your skin, a little bite softened immediately by a tender kiss, even when he’s going feral, he’s still gentle.
your sweet boyfriend Ni-ki, doesn’t matter how filthy his mouth gets, how breathless, desperate, or hungry he is for you, he’s always soft underneath it all.
↬ summary: you were nervous about swimming with your childhood friend that you had a crush on, lee heeseung, but he was absolutely enamored by your body and appearance. so much so, you even started to notice.
↬ warnings: shower sex!, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, perv/horny heeseung and reader, spanking, pet names, groping, squirting, overstimulation, nipple play, nipple sucking.
looking at your reflection in the mirror, you felt anxious. squishing your thighs, staring at every part of you that had you worried. heeseung was going to see you like this. the heeseung you’d liked since first grade. you had to look good.
“everything good in there?”
you heard a light knock on the bathroom door, you quickly put your swim cover on. your heart pounding through your chest. it was light and see-through so it didn’t do much to cover you up in the meantime, but it was enough.
“i’m coming out now.” you replied, slowly opening the door. seeing heeseung standing there in front of you, in only his swim trunks and flip flops. you couldn’t help but blush. feeling so exposed in front of him.
heeseung stared at you for a moment, noticing the way you were attempting to cover the front of your body with your hands. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so he looked into your eyes instead. but god, it was hard not to look. you looked so perfect.
“let’s go then—“ heeseung smiled at you, “i hope you don’t mind, but i bought us both popsicles from the stand downstairs.” he handed you one, you took it and smiled back at him. “thank you, hee.”
he opened the hotel door for you, letting you out before him. one you stepped out into the hallway, he shut the door behind him. making sure it was locked and then the two of you made your way to the elevator.
you almost didn’t believe it when heeseung invited you to stay with him at a hotel, i mean, you were just close friends right? so it wasn’t anything weird. you both slept in separate beds. gave each other privacy in the bathrooms. it wasn’t anything weird.
not even the times when he stared at your ass or tits for too long, or when you’d purposely wear short skirts and short shorts so he could get a good view of your ass. low v-neck shirts that had him staring at your cleavage all day. the way his touch always lingered. the way he’d masturbate to your teasing every single night, fantasizing about your body.
he’d even caught you touching yourself in your room, i mean it was under your blankets but you were moaning his name and everything. he couldn’t get it out of his head for weeks after, picturing every different way he could ruin you while stroking himself nightly to your instagram posts. it had to just be a friend thing that would pass right?
standing behind you in the elevator, heeseung’s eyes trailed down to your swim bottoms. staring at the way the fabric squished your ass in the perfect way. he swallowed, averting his eyes as quickly as he looked at your butt.
you suddenly turned around, his eyes moving from your hips, to your breasts that bounced when you turned around then quickly to your eyes again. you shrugged this off of course, and smiled up at him.
“thank you for bringing me here, it really does mean a lot to me…” you blushed, “you’re my favorite person heeseung. i’m so glad i get to be here with you.” you fiddled with the fabric of the small swim cover that was over your body. the seethrough silk that barely covered everything heeseung had ever wanted to see.
“n-no problem at all.” he smiled at you, nervously running a hand through his strawberry red hair. you bet it smelt like strawberry too. with how good he smelt. “y-you’re my favorite too.” he said, pursing his lips for a moment. when the elevator opened, he reached out and accidentally touched your ass, quickly pulling his hand back.
“sorry- that was my bad.” he said, letting you out first. his touch still lingering. a warm feeling that flooded through your stomach and head. you almost felt dizzy for a moment. pull yourself together, you thought. he had actually touched it, that same ass he fantasized about every time you bent over.
“it’s okay.” you spoke softly, the two of you walking to the pool area. the hotel pool was supposed to close in about an hour. but since no kids or anyone would be around this late at night, you both assumed it’d be the best time to go and swim.
heeseung couldn’t possibly wait another minute to get to the pool and see your beautiful body. but he made himself be patient as you sat down on a small bench in front of the pool.
“you gonna get in?” heeseung asked you, smiling. “wanna have our popsicles first?” you asked, holding yours up. maybe this could help ease your nerves a little more before taking your swim cover off. “oh, yeah. sure.” he said, sitting down on the bench next to yours.
you opened the packaging slowly. heeseung’s eyes grazed your body, subtly looking at the way your curves laid against the bench. how every part of you looked so squish-able. it was going to drive him insane. so he quickly looked away, starting to open his as well.
taking off the plastic was easy, he tossed the packaging aside for now. before pulling the popsicle to his lips, he’d picked both your favorite flavors. strawberry banana. then he looked back at you. your beautiful mouth around the popsicle, sucking it. some of it melting down your chin.
he could’ve almost choked, he cleared his throat. trying to focus on eating his own popsicle. his eyes watching as you pulled the popsicle from your lips, a string of saliva left your mouth with it. you wiped the bit that ran down your chin off, turning your head to see heeseung staring.
you’re face turned entirely red. you could feel it. why was he staring? heeseung looked away quickly. you noticed as he licked his popsicle slowly, his cheeks tinted a shade of pink. was he really blushing? did he think you were cute or, maybe he liked the way you looked sucking your popsicle like that…
you discreetly put your mouth on the popsicle again, the flavor erupting in your mouth. it was so delicious. but you were way more focused on the way heeseung’s eyes kept looking at you. you saw it in the corner of your eye every time he did so.
you pushed your mouth down further, your tongue licking up the parts of the popsicle that were starting to melt. you dragged your tongue along the popsicle multiple times, pushing your head down and up from the popsicle. it could’ve been completely innocent, but to him and to you, it didn’t look innocent at all.
he almost dropped his own popsicle multiple times now, tension building in his swim trunks. a small tent that he tried sitting upright to hide a little more. but you definitely noticed. noticed the way his breath shuddered and hitched, the way that every time you turned to look at him he quickly looked away, the way his eyes followed every one of your movements.
finishing your popsicle along with heeseung, the tension in the air was thick. so thick it was intoxicating. every minute felt like hours to him, failing to not look at your cute face as you tongued your popsicle like that. did you know what you were doing to him?
you stood up, standing in front of him. your eyes on his, while his locked onto yours. “ready to swim?” you asked, your hand gently pressed on his arm. but to him it felt like fire. sending a warm sensation throughout his body that made him swallow. his eyes trailing to your lips, then back up to your eyes again.
the way he looked at you gave you confidence, as he nodded slowly while you stood upright, pulling the light fabric over your head. revealing your patterned pink bikini to him. it was almost like he got hit in the chest as you pulled it off. your beautiful soft skin exposed to him, your cute breasts, your cute stomach, your squishy thighs. he saw everything now. and he wasn’t disappointed. knew he wouldn’t be, his lips parted slightly.
your touch still lingered on his arm, leaving a tingling feeling that was almost too much. he stood up, his eyes couldn’t possibly leave you. it was impossible. he was mesmerized, eyes widened, the warmest feeling in his body. he knew for sure why he’d fallen in love with you all those years ago. and he definitely didn’t want to let go now.
“coming?” you stared at him. smiling. noticing the way he was staring at you, your body. it made you smirk a bit. but you were still just as flustered as he was. you turned around, jumping in. the splash hitting heeseung’s legs. his lips curved into a smile, he watched as you emerged from the water. your hair wet, your body soaked with the water around you.
he jumped in right beside you, the splash making you cover your eyes. before you knew it, his arms were around your waist. pulling you up. making you wiggle from his grip. “i got you.” he said in a teasing tone. it was almost breathtaking. you immediately started to laugh, giggling as his arms were wrapped around you. your body trying to escape him.
even though his hands were on the parts of your body that you hated, you still felt calm. his hands squeezing your hips as water droplets trickled down his red hair. feeling your body between his fingers had him going crazy. butterflies scattered in your stomach as you freed yourself from his grip, turning around and splashing him.
he splashed back of course, and then he saw you there. an angry expression on your face that was too cute too be even remotely scary too him. he raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to make a move. and you did, throwing up a huge splash of water at his face. drenching his bright red hair all over again.
you turned around and swam away quickly, but even with that splash to distract him heeseung was already hot on your trail. he reached out to you, his hand almost grazing your back. you tried speeding up, but he was too close now. he grabbed onto you and then—
slip. the sound of him untying the small fabric that attached around your back, covering your breasts. the top, to your unexpectedness, you felt the cool water hit your chest. noticing your top had fell into the water behind you.
heeseung’s eyes were now wide, he stopped. the bra falling straight into his hands. his lips parted, you instinctively covered your breasts. cupping them with your arms. frozen in place. he stared at your bare back, his cheeks becoming flustered. not knowing if he should give you your bra or look away.
you swallowed, nervously turning around in the water. he saw your nervous face, your hands covering what you could of your breasts. he quickly pushed the bra towards you. you grabbed it with one of your hands, still using the other arm to cover your bare chest. then you quickly turned back around to attempt to put it back on.
“i’m so sorry- i didn’t mean too.” heeseung said, worried. his face was red, your face was red. it felt way more intimate then it needed too. yet you felt comfortable with him. “it’s okay.” you spoke gently, pulling the bra over your breasts.
“can you help tie me again?” you asked him, heeseung gulped. frozen for a moment. “yeah, i can help you...” he spoke. moving closer, his warm shaky hands grabbing the two strings hanging from your back. your back tingled at his touch, the way his fingers tied the two strings together again. then he stepped back.
you turned around slowly, your face was visibly heated. so was his. “i really didn’t mean too— i’m sorry y/n-“ he stopped as you got closer, your arms snaking around his neck. hugging him. his heart almost stopped. he didn’t move. just stood there, petrified.
“heeseung…” you spoke, “this is gonna sound weird, but i’ve never felt comfortable with anyone seeing my body, except for you.” you squeezed his neck gently, still worried of what he might think. tears filling your eyes. heeseung already was frozen solid, and now you said something sweet, something intimate. your breasts pressed up against him unintentionally which made his head spin.
he suddenly pulled his arms around your waist, holding you as well. he felt your heart pounding against his chest. noticed every breath, every small movement or sound coming from your body. he almost couldn’t believe what was happening right now. “i-i can feel your heartbeat…” heeseung said softly.
you looked up at him now, your eyes connecting. the sight of your desperate eyes alone was going to make him break. holding you like you were fragile, like you might even break. seeing your cleavage as your breasts squished up against his chest.
everything about kissing your childhood friend felt right in that moment, your eyes locked on one another, your bodies up close against each other, the thick tension in the air that was extremely certain now. you shut your eyes, starting to lean in confidently. heeseung almost panicked, he couldn’t believe it.
slowly leaning down towards your lips, making sure he didn’t miss them, he waited to close his eyes until he knew for sure that his lips wouldn’t miss yours. and then—
SQUEAK— it was the sound of the glass door opening and echoing through the room. you both quickly pulled away, your face was red. you turned to see a worker standing in the doorway, looking highly annoyed.
the entire moment was ruined, the tension that was at it’s peak and your arms that were once around each other.
“it’s passed 11:30— we we’re supposed to be cleaning up twenty minutes ago.” the guy said angrily.
“sorry, we thought the pool closed at 12.” you said, confused. “that’s only on friday and saturday’s. it’s thursday.” the guy said, irritated. “th-that’s our bad, we’ll leave right now.” heeseung apologized, grabbing your hand gently. you felt a warmth in your chest.
holding your hand, the two of you swam towards the steps to get out of the pool. getting out together, heeseung grabbed all your things before you could even try too. covering your bare shoulders with a warm towel he’d left on his bench. he held your hand again, using his other arm to carry the stuff you guys brought, including your swim cover.
the two of you left the swimming pool area, walking to the elevator. the rest of the time getting back to the hotel, the two of you were completely silent. feeling unfulfilled, wondering if their still was something more lingering between you two.
sitting down on the hotel bed, you held the towel around you like a blanket. your heart was still pounding. heeseung approached you, sitting down next to you. “i’m sorry, i should’ve double checked what time the pool closed…”
“don’t apologize, it would happen to anyone. including me.” you giggled, he chuckled a little with you. your eyes found his again. he looked back at you. you wouldn’t have known his heart was pounding just as wildly as yours was. eyes glancing towards your lips, he ran his fingers through his wet hair. he looked so attractive.
“did you mean what you said?” he suddenly spoke, you started to nod. still quiet. still wondering if he’d have the same reaction that he did before. you glanced down towards his lips again. he noticed.
“if you wanted to kiss me, you should’ve just said so…” he spoke, his hand caressing yours before intertwining his fingers with yours. you lips parted, and then you finally spoke. “i’ve wanted too for a long time...”
with that, heeseung didn’t hesitate. pulling his other hand to cup the side of your face, he leaned down and placed his soft lips on yours. the fire inside the both of you finally igniting. it felt so right. you couldn’t even move. the butterflies in your stomach erupting immediately.
it was a long kiss, heeseung’s hand gently holding your face, your hands finding their way to his neck again, wrapping them around him gently. your lips both moved at a passionate pace, just exploring and tasting each others lips for the first time. as you’d both wanted to for forever. it was even better than you could ever have imagined.
when you finally pulled away, you both stared at each other through half lidded eyes. your chests heaving softly, small pants falling from your lips. heeseung’s hand didn’t leave your face, neither did your arms leave from around his neck. just staring at each other. trying to realize it’d finally happened, you’d finally kissed.
“i think we should probably shower- to get the chlorine off.” you spoke, giggling. he laughed a little, nodding. “uh, if… you’re really sure you want me to be there.” his cheeks were pink. was he really going to see your body? for the first time ever? you smiled at him.
“of course i do… i’m comfortable with you now, hee…” the nickname was different from all the other times you used it, it felt so much more intimate now. he audibly swallowed.
“are you nervous?” you asked him, standing up right in front of him. “are you?” he spoke, standing up in front of you. you almost crumbled in front of him. and of course, like always, he noticed.
you grabbed his hand, he followed along with you to the bathroom. his eyes noticing how much more confidently you were carrying yourself. shutting the door behind the two of you, he saw the clothes you were wearing before putting on your swimsuit laying out on the floor.
the shower was one of those big glass ones, you opened the door, turning on the shower to let the hot water start to run through. stepping back out, heeseung looked at you nervously. was he really about to see you naked?
seeing heeseung standing there, all nervous. you initiated yourself. turning around. “help untie me?” you asked, your cheeks red. it was different then before. so much different.
he stepped closer, you felt his warm presence behind you. slowly and gently untying the bikini top, you let it fall to the floor. and then you turned around, facing him. his eyes landed onto your breasts. he swallowed, taking in the sight for the very first time.
you felt flustered, but you saw the way he looked at you. like he’d never seen anything or anyone like you before. it flattered you, really. the way he couldn’t even make out a single word, completely distraught at the sight of your boobs.
“b-beautiful.”
he said, his own words almost choking him. it took everything he had to refrain himself from asking to touch them, being one of the things he’d always wanted to do. but he tried to have patience as you blushed and grabbed your swim bottoms, pulling them down off your legs.
and now it would be his turn. your cheeks we’re heated, but your eyes seemed to be eagerly awaiting for him to strip himself down as well. your eyes trailed down to his swim trunks, holy shit. not only did he have a boner, but it was fucking massive.
he debated whether or not he should at this point, being embarrassed from getting hard for you so easily. but you’d already stripped yourself for him, so he grabbed the waistband of his swim trunks. pulling them down. his size sprung out, his eyes couldn’t leave yours.
“h-hee… you’re…”
“fuck… i’m sorry y/n, i can’t help it…” he spoke, “i’ve been hard for you all night. your body is the most perfect thing i have ever seen… i’ve wanted you for forever. we’re you licking the popsicle like that on purpose?”
you blushed, nodding slowly. “y-yes…” you said, heat pooling in your lower stomach and core. this confession had him choking on his own breath, rock hard, standing right in front of the girl he’d always wanted. he was vulnerable in front of you, but so were you. you both had exposed every inch of yourselves to each other now.
“c-can i?” he stared at you, his arms reaching out towards your body. you nodded, stepping closer. “touch me, hee.” you whispered, his hands felt your breasts. he squeezed your breasts gently, making you whine.
“shit… just as perfect as i imagined. so soft.” his fingers then grazed your stomach, his hands making their way down to your thighs. he grabbed your butt, squishing it between his fingers. “so, so damn perfect…”
you blushed from the praise, whimpering softly at his touch. he touched you as if he’d never touch you again. fondling, stroking and touching every inch of you. his hands traveled back up to your face, cupping your face with both his big palms as your lips connected again. face and stomach’s burning hot.
pulling away, you grabbed his arm, pulling him into the streamy shower with him. he shut the glass door behind the two of you, the two of you standing in the water together. letting it soak your bodies as you both leant in for another passionate kiss, connecting lips underneath the hot water.
“l-let me clean you.” he blushed, grabbing the pink loofa and putting soap on it. of course you didn’t object to this, standing outside of the water. he stepped closer to you, scrubbing your body gently. cleaning you with a gentle and kind touch, his hands still shaking slightly.
he watched the way the soap made your tits all soapy, the way it ran down your breasts and legs. your body so soft and beautiful. all soaked. you could’ve sworn you we’re dying for this touch, for his love, his lust. everything.
“do you like the way i look, like this...” you blushed, he pulled the loofa away as you leaned forward. squishing your breasts together. he almost swallowed the water. the sight sending heat to his face, and too his already hardened dick. he audibly swallowed, and you leaned upwards, placing your lips on his again.
he forgot what he was even doing, the loofa falling onto the ground and drain of the shower. you made out, him holding you against the glass wall. you both were panting, your lips pulling from his for a moment. he looked at you like he wanted to dive right back in.
“hee, i wan’t you to fuck me.” you said desperately.
his chest tightened, his eyes lustful, full of desire. it didn’t take long for him to start kissing you again, his hands trailing your body. your hand reaching down and finally touching his cock. he jumped slightly, his lips parting as he let out a soft groan. not expecting the sudden touch.
you stroked his length, teasing the tip slightly with every pump of his cock in your hand. “fuck… y/n, need you now.” he cursed. lifting your body off the floor, you were surprised. but you kissed him again, exchanging saliva as your tongues collided in a heated motion.
“you know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” he growled against your ear, you bit down on your bottom lip, eyes staring at him desperately. “i’ve been doing it all day…” you spoke lustfully, heeseung was at his breaking point now. needing you. every bit of you. he couldn’t wait even a second longer.
he let you down and you turned yourself around, bending over for him. your ass on perfect display in front of him. he slapped it, before laying his chest against your back. softly whispering in your ear, “you really want me right here? right now?” his fingers rubbed your clit.
“y-yes hee…” a strangled moan left your lips, your moan being music to his ears. making his cock throb in desperation. “yeah pretty, i wanna hear you moan for me. just like that.” he said with his fingers stroking your folds, coating himself in your wetness. “how bad do you want it. tell me.” he pinched your clit.
you moaned louder, almost squirming the lower half of your body. his grip on your thighs tightened. “ah— hee…” you cried, pussy aching around nothing. his digits pushing and prodding against your entrance. “hee, please… need it. need you.” you whined.
he shoved his fingers inside slowly, your lower stomach feeling warm and tight. his big fingers dragging across your gummy walls, he audibly groaned from the feeling. and you moaned out from his fingers being inside you.
“so fucking tight.” he breathed, “how are you gonna take me? being this damn tight?”
you were lightheaded, chest heaving up and down. he moved his fingers faster, they dragged in and out of you making you want to burst under his touch as he stimulated your clit with thumb.
“h-hee gonna…” you felt the fire in your abdomen burning, being so close to your orgasm. heeseung moved his fingers faster, his ruthless pace making your eyes and head roll back. your cunt fluttered around his fingers as he continued to stimulate your clit.
and then you came. your body dissolving into the pleasure, spurts of squirt gushing out of you like electricity jolting through your body. heeseung grunted with satisfaction, relentlessly moving his fingers against the spot that had you gushing for him. more and more spilled out of you, he loved it.
“holy fuck…” he said against you, “ever squirted for anyone else before?” he said softly against your ear. “n-no hee, only you… felt so good…” you whined, panting softly.
“so pretty like this, want you to squirt on my dick so bad princess… always wanted you too.” he said, pulling away from your heat. your cunt dripped from leftover squirt, he squeezed the tip of his cock. a bead of precum forming from the tip.
“h-hee…” you whined pathetically, your hands against the steamed over glass. “p-please… can’t wait anymore… need you so bad. need you inside…” you moved your hands behind you, parting your folds with your fingers, revealing your aching hole to him.
heeseung’s eyes averted to your folds and your aching cunt. he stroked over his tip gently, his eyes fixated on the sight in front of him before he spit directly onto your cunt. his fingers helped rub it in while your trembling ones found their way back to the glass, helping prop yourself up.
“this greedy little cunt need me?” he teased, pushing his massive length up against your sopping folds. he sent a loud smack to your ass, that had you jump a little and moan. “p-please…” you begged again. he couldn’t wait any longer, you were driving him crazy. always had. and now he’d finally had you.
his tip pushed against your entrance, your lips parting and your hips moving up against him. he slapped your ass again, making you cry out again. “gonna make you feel so good…” his tip prodded at your soaked entrance. “gonna stretch this pussy to fit me perfectly.”
with a quick snap of heeseung’s hips, he’d pushed himself as deep as he could inside you. tip kissing your cervix, your eyes rolling back, a loud moan leaving your lips. you felt so full. the stretch was too much, your legs shaking and your eyes watering from the quick abuse of your cervix.
and then he pulled out completely, leaving you entirely empty after filling you up all the way. you whimpered loudly, your pussy trying to clench around nothing as you turned your head to look back at him. he only growled as you stared at him with a confused look.
“you spent so long teasing me, didn’t you?” he smacked your ass again, “should i tease you in return?” he pressed his cock up against your folds again. it was agonizing. you needed him back in so badly. it was too much.
“n-no hee…” you cried, “didn’t mean too.. didn’t know you wanted me too…” you bit down on your bottom lip. he looked down at you, staring. he continued to soak himself up between your drenched folds.
“i heard you that night…” he spoke, his hands pulling your hips up closer to him as he pressed against you. “touching yourself… moaning my name. you have no idea what that did to me for so damn long.” he used one of his hands to rub your clit again. your face turning redder.
“always wanted to fuck you. want this pussy to be mine.” he pushed against your hole again, your body arching desperately underneath him. “y-you heard that?” you blushed. “shouldn’t of kept your door cracked open.” he smirked. that damn smirk, it drove you insane. it always had.
“god you’re so pretty, i’m so lucky.” he dragged his cock along your soaking folds, your eyes desperate as you whimpered, his other hand grasping your hips as if he’d never let go. the wait felt like an eternity, you couldn’t possibly wait any longer to finally feel heeseung’s dick pounding you. the one you fantasized about for so long.
“ready baby?” he asked you, his tip pushing up against your hole. tears were forming in your eyes, you were desperate. “heeseung, please. n-need you.” you begged.
this time he started slowly, his cock pushing through the entrance of your tight pussy. only the tip buried inside so far. both his hands gripped your thighs, your back arched, your pussy swallowing up every inch he’d give you.
and then finally, he pushed forward. you whined and winced at the slow stretch of your hole, heeseung only pushing forward, as if savoring the moment that your cunt swallowed every inch of him, until finally he was fully inside.
balls up against your pelvis, cock kissing your cervix, your heart pounding. you moaned loudly from the stretch, he squeezed your thighs with his hands.
“ahh— fuck… you’re so damn tight baby. i can barely fit in you.” heeseung cursed, trying to help your walls adjust to his size. he slowly moved his hips, cock dragging along your walls slowly. memorizing every part of you.
“heeseung~!” you called out, your eyes glazed over. “you feel so fucking good. everything i’ve ever wanted.” he slammed inside at a rougher pace, making your legs tremble and a whimper spill from your parted lips.
“god, you’re soaking around me. gonna cum for me again already?” he slapped your ass, you could’ve sworn you were going to blackout. your legs felt heavy, the coil in your lower stomach tightening to the point of release.
“y-yes hee… g-gonna cum again…” you stammered, your eyes rolling back. “fuck yeah, need you to cum on my cock. need your pretty cunt dripping around me. haven’t spent a single day not imagining it.” his hips dragged along faster, slamming into that spot that drove you insane.
his thumb started to move in circles on your clit, as his other hand continued to grip your waist. you could’ve sworn you saw stars. your pussy fluttering and pulsing around him as you came. the tight coil inside you finally snapping.
“fuck… so perfect. cum on my cock like that princess.”
you cried out, every lewd sound of his cock slamming into your soaked hole echoed in the shower. your legs trembling violently, you almost could’ve fell over at that moment. but he held you up, his hands tight around your waist.
his cock twitched inside you, his chest heaving from pounding you so hard. he pulled out slowly, leaving your gripping hole empty. you whined and panted softly.
it all felt so fast, the way he carried you so quickly into the other room. not caring about the trail of water you left from the bathroom, or how soaked the bed was getting. he just laid you down, parting your thighs in front of him. your pussy throbbing and pulsing, leaking of wetness.
and then he moved up against your folds again, leaning down to kiss one of your breasts. he played with one of them, sucking your other nipple. you whined out, your arms sprawling out and your hands gripping the sheets tightly.
he pushed against your entrance again using his other hand to align his cock, his mouth continuing to suck on your hardened nipple. before he started pushing inside again, you cried out. desperate for him.
he pushed all the way inside, your walls clenching around him. he pulled off your breast, licking his lips as he grabbed both your legs. thrusting deeper at the perfect angle that drove you absolutely insane.
“heeseung!” you moaned out, only making his hips move faster, more rougher. relentlessly slamming into the spot that made you cry. “shh, baby. everyone’s gonna hear how good i’m fucking you if you keep being so loud.”
tears filled your eyes, the overstimulation kicking in as your clit pulsed. he continued to thrust into you, cock twitching inside of you. his breathing becoming quicker as he focused on pounding you. pinching your nipple.
“god, you’re milking me.” he grunted, his head falling backwards and his hands gripping your waist tightly. he could feel himself reaching the edge, every thrust of his hips making a groan leave his lips.
every one of your moans and whimpers had him pounding harder, like it was motivation for him. tears ran down your cheeks as he reached his final few thrusts.
“c-coming… fuck.” he bit down on his bottom lip, he slowed down as thick spurts of cum spewed from his cock. filling you up entirely. the two of you panting, moaning, sweating all over.
he stayed inside you, collapsing on top of your body. the two of you trying to catch your breathes while holding on tight to each other. you leaned your head back against the pillow behind you, feeling limp and weak.
but his cock was already hardened again inside of you, he lifted himself up. pulling out he quickly pushed both of his fingers inside of you, making sure all of his cum stayed deep in you. he used his other hand to stroke your tear stained cheek gently, comfortingly.
“gonna cum again pretty, okay? just rest for me alright?”
you nodded softly, blushing and staring as he stroked himself over your stomach, his eyes landing on your tits and then your pretty face. he was so focused on you, breath hitching as he reached his high. coming all over your chest, breasts, and stomach.
“mm, so pretty… covered with my cum.” he smiled at you, grabbing a towel to help clean you up with. you already felt sleepy now, just laying against the pillow.
heeseung got in bed with you, both your naked bodies pressed up against each other as he kissed the your shoulder and the back of your neck.
“love you, hee.” you smiled, your legs intertwined under the blankets. “love you too, pretty.” he responded, kissing your neck softly before falling asleep with you in his arms. you fell asleep shortly after, feeling fulfilled.
genre: hogwarts au, brother's best friend trope, fluff
synopsis: you tried to ignore how ni-ki made your stomach flip. you really did. all you wanted was a normal term at hogwarts. instead, you’re dealing with a love-potion-struck ni-ki, whose clinginess and love struck antics are giving your poor heart(and patience) a workout. your brother thinks it’s hilarious. you think you might combust. and ni-ki? he just wants to snuggle forever.
warnings: lots of kissing, they makeout, hickeys, skin-ship, cringey nicknames, some angst, clingy! lovestruck!ni-ki
note: for the anon who wanted a ni-ki hogwarts au, so sorry for the delay!!😭 halfway into writing this i realised my nonchalant bro ni-ki would NEVER act like this but proceeded anyway since it's fiction so enjoyy reading!!
word count: 7.7k
if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3
you told yourself this term would be different.
no more stolen glances across the great hall, no more lingering in the library just to catch a glimpse of his messy hair as he flipped through spellbooks. ni-ki was your brother’s best friend—always had been, always would be. that fact was as unchangeable as the house colours on your robes. and yet, every time he slung an arm around your brother’s shoulders, laughing too loud in that carefree way of his, your pulse betrayed you.
it wasn’t fair.
he was everywhere. lounging in the common room like he owned it, tossing a snitch between his hands while your brother groaned about quidditch drills. leaning over your shoulder in potions, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "you’re adding too much lacewing, y/n." his fingers brushing yours when he passed you a vial, the contact brief but enough to send sparks up your arm. you hated how your body reacted—how your stomach twisted, how your cheeks burned when he smirked at you like he knew exactly what he was doing.
you were good at pretending. you had to be. when he flicked your quill during study sessions, you rolled your eyes instead of smiling. when he called your name across the courtyard, you waved half-heartedly instead of sprinting to him. when he winked at you—always winking, always teasing—you looked away before he could see the way your breath hitched.
but then there were the moments you couldn’t control. the way your gaze lingered when he stretched after quidditch practise, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. the way your heart stuttered when he ruffled your hair, his laugh ringing in your ears. the way you memorised the curve of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he was genuinely happy.
you were pathetic.
this term, you swore, would be different. you’d focus on your studies, on your friends, on anything but him. you’d stop daydreaming about what it would feel like if he looked at you the way he looked at the quidditch pitch—like it was the only thing that mattered. you’d stop wondering if he ever thought about you when you weren’t there.
because ni-ki wasn’t yours. he never would be.
and yet, when he slid into the seat beside you at breakfast, his knee pressing against yours under the table, your resolve crumbled all over again.
damn it.
. . .
you should’ve known better than to think this term would be easy.
the common room was its usual mess of noise and warmth—crackling fire, hushed gossip, the occasional shriek of laughter as someone recounted their latest mishap in potions. you were tucked into your favourite corner of the couch, a well-worn copy of advanced arithmancy open in your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in at least twenty minutes. your friends were bickering good-naturedly beside you, debating whether transfiguration or charms was the more practical subject, but you weren’t really listening. your mind kept drifting, as it always did, to the one person you were desperately trying not to think about.
then the door burst open.
a group of seventh-years stumbled in, grinning like they’d just pulled off some grand scheme, and dumped a tray of shimmering, unnaturally bright sweets onto the low table in the centre of the room. the candies pulsed faintly, shifting colours like liquid trapped in sugar shells, looking clearly enchantwd. a few curious hands reached out, but the seventh-years just smirked and said, "dare you to try one," before sauntering off, leaving behind a ripple of nervous excitement.
you barely had time to roll your eyes before the common room door swung open again, and there he was.
ni-ki.
your breath caught.
he was still in his quidditch gear, his hair damp and tousled from the showers, his cheeks flushed from the chill of the evening air. your brother trailed behind him, complaining loudly about some foul during practise, but ni-ki wasn’t listening. he was laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his whole face alight with that effortless joy that made your chest ache.
then his gaze flicked to the tray of sweets.
"what’s this?" he asked, already reaching for one, his fingers closing around a candy that glowed a dangerous shade of pink.
something in your gut twisted.
"ni-ki, don’t—" you started, scrambling to your feet, but it was too late. he popped it into his mouth without a second thought, chewing once before his entire expression shifted.
his eyes, sharp and playful, always so alive suddenly went soft and unfocused. then they locked onto you, wide and wondering, like he was seeing you for the first time.
"you’re beautiful," he breathed, voice low and awed, as if the words had been pulled out of him against his will.
the common room went quiet. your friends stopped mid-sentence. your brother blinked, confused. and you? you couldn’t move.
ni-ki didn’t hesitate. he crossed the room in three long strides, and before you could even think to step back, his arms were around you, pulling you into a hug so tight it stole your breath. his cheek pressed against the curve of your neck, his exhale warm against your skin. his hands were tentative at first, fingers brushing your waist like he wasn’t sure he was allowed—then, as if something in him snapped, they fisted in the fabric of your sweater, dragging you even closer.
you froze.
his heartbeat thudded against yours, rapid and unsteady. his scent—fresh grass and something faintly sweet, like strawberries—flooded your senses. you could feel every shift of his body, every unsteady breath he took, and it was too much. your hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure where to land, but your traitorous heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it.
"ni-ki," you managed, voice embarrassingly shaky. "what are you—"
he didn’t let you finish. he just nuzzled closer, his nose brushing your jaw, and murmured, "you smell nice."
your brother choked on his drink. someone giggled. your face burned.
this was bad. this was so bad.
because even as your brain screamed at you to push him away, to laugh it off like it was nothing, your body betrayed you. your fingers curled into his quidditch jersey, clinging just a little too tightly. your breath hitched when his thumb brushed your hip, absentminded but deliberate. a tiny, reckless part inside of you never wanted him to let go.
the candy was obviously cursed. it had to be. there was no other explanation for the way ni-ki was holding you like you were something precious, like he’d been waiting years to do this.
but then his lips brushed your ear, his voice so soft only you could hear it.
"i’ve wanted to do this for so long," he whispered, and your stomach dropped.
because what if it wasn’t just the candy?
what if, underneath the enchantment, some part of him meant it?
your brother’s voice cut through the haze. "alright, what the hell did you give him?"
laughter erupted around you, but you barely heard it. ni-ki’s arms tightened around you, his breath warm against your skin, and you realised with terrifying clarity—
this was only the beginning.
the next few minutes passed in a blur. your friends were howling with laughter, your brother was torn between amusement and concern, and ni-ki—ni-ki wouldn’t let go. not when you tried to gently pry his fingers from your sweater, not when your brother clapped him on the shoulder and said, "mate, you’ve got to snap out of it." he just held on tighter, his face buried in your hair, murmuring things that made your cheeks burn.
"your hair’s so soft."
"you’re perfect."
"i love the way you laugh."
each word sent a fresh wave of panic through you. because this wasn’t just some silly, fleeting crush anymore. this was ni-ki—your brother’s best friend, the boy you’d spent years pretending not to adore—holding you like you were the only thing that mattered, saying things you’d only ever dreamed of hearing.
and you had no idea what to do.
"we should get him to madam pomfrey," your brother said finally, though he was grinning like this was the best thing he’d seen all year.
ni-ki made a noise of protest, his arms tightening around you. "no," he mumbled against your shoulder. "stay with y/n."
your heart skipped.
your brother sighed. "alright, fine. but you’re coming with me, lover boy."
ni-ki whined—actually whined—but your brother was relentless, peeling him off you with a strength born of years of dealing with his antics. ni-ki’s hands lingered, his fingers brushing yours as he was dragged away, his eyes never leaving your face.
"i’ll find you later," he promised, voice still thick with whatever enchantment had taken hold of him.
your stomach flipped.
as the common room door swung shut behind them, the room erupted into chaos—laughter, theories about what kind of spell had been on those candies, bets on how long it would take for ni-ki to recover. but you just stood there, your skin still tingling where he’d touched you, your heart racing like you’d just run a mile.
when madam pomfrey had examined him the night before, her lips had pursed in that particular way that meant trouble.
"this isn't your standard amortentia variant," she'd muttered, her wand tracing glowing patterns over ni-ki's dazed expression. "it's one of those experimental brews the seventh years keep inventing. it'll have to run its course naturally."
you'd nearly choked when she'd added, "could be a day, could be a week," just as ni-ki blissfully unaware of your internal crisis, chose that moment to nuzzle his face against your hand like an overgrown puppy, his lips brushing your knuckles in a way that sent electric jolts up your arm.
"my moonbeam," he sighed dreamily, completely ignoring madam pomfrey's exasperated eye-roll. "your skin is so soft. are you made of clouds? you must be made of clouds."
your brother, the absolute traitor, was filming the entire thing on his enchanted camera.
but nothing, not even the humiliation of the hospital wing visit could have prepared you for the absolute nightmare that was the next morning.
the morning light filtering through your dormitory curtains was soft and golden, promising a slow, lazy day. you were still half-buried in your blankets, caught in that hazy space between sleep and waking, when the first sign of trouble came.
a faint creak of the door. the rustle of fabric. you assumed it was just one of your roommates returning from an early shower, until—
thud.
a muffled "oof" that you'd recognise anywhere.
your eyes flew open just in time to see ni-ki picking himself up from where he'd tripped over someone's abandoned shoes, his hair sticking up in every direction, still wearing yesterday's rumpled clothes. when he saw you looking, his entire face lit up like you'd cast the sun itself.
"good morning, sunshine!" he chirped, already climbing onto your bed before you could process what was happening.
the mattress dipped under his weight as he settled at the foot of your bed, beaming at you like this was completely normal.
"i waited outside for two hours. did you know the stairs turn into a slide if you're a boy? so rude. i had to bribe a first-year to tell me the password instead."
you sat frozen, your sleep-addled brain struggling to catch up. behind you, one of your roommates choked on her toothpaste. another pulled her blanket over her head with a groan.
"ni-ki," you hissed, acutely aware of your messy hair and the fact your pyjama top had slipped slightly off one shoulder, "you can't just—"
"but i missed you," he interrupted, as if this explained everything. his fingers found yours, lacing them together with a reverence that made your pulse stutter. "the second you left last night, my heart started aching. is that normal?"
he brought your hand to his chest, pressing your palm flat against the steady beat beneath his shirt. "it feels normal when it's you."
you were going to find those seventh-years and strangle them with their own shoelaces.
his thumb traced the arch of your eyebrow, then drifted down to the curve of your cheek. you stopped breathing. the early morning light gilded his features in soft gold, catching on the tiny scar above his lip from that quidditch accident last year. you'd never been this close before, close enough to count his faint freckles, to see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes.
before you could react, he was leaning in, pressing a feather-light kiss to your temple. then another just below your ear. then another along your jawline—each one lingering just a second too long, his breath warm against your skin.
"ni-ki—" you gasped, but he just hummed and continued his lazy path of destruction, his lips brushing the sensitive spot behind your ear that made your toes curl.
"you're so soft here," he murmured against your skin, his free hand coming up to cradle your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone as his mouth continued its devastating exploration. "and here." another kiss, this time to the corner of your jaw. "and here." his lips grazed the pulse point beneath your ear, and you swore your heart stopped.
when you tried to squirm away, his arm slid around your waist, pulling you back against him with embarrassing ease.
"where do you think you're going, snugglebug?" he teased, nuzzling into your neck. "i just got comfortable."
you were going to die. actually die. right here in your pyjamas with ni-ki's stupidly perfect lips tracing nonsense patterns across your skin.
"this isn't—you can't just—" you stammered, but your traitorous body was already melting into his touch, your hands fisting in the sheets to keep from reaching for him.
ni-ki pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark with something you couldn't name.
"can't just what?" he challenged softly, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. "can't tell you how pretty you look in the morning? can't kiss every single mole on your face?" to demonstrate, he pressed his lips to the tiny one near your eyebrow. then the one by your nose. "can't adore you the way i've always wanted to?"
your breath caught. that couldn't be—he didn't mean—
before you could overthink it, his mouth found yours in a kiss so sweet it made your chest ache. just a brush of lips, barely there, but it shattered you completely. when he pulled away, his smile was brighter than the sunrise streaming through your windows.
"pancakes?" he asked, as if he hadn't just rewritten your entire universe with one kiss.
you could only nod, dazed.
as ni-ki helped you up (his hands lingering at your waist, his lips stealing one last kiss from your cheek), you caught your dormmates' wide-eyed stares in the mirror. one mouthed "holy shit" while another gave you a thumbs up.
you were so, so screwed.
. . .
breakfast in the great hall was nothing short of a public execution.
the moment you sat down, ni-ki was there, sliding onto the bench so close his thigh pressed flush against yours, his arm immediately curling around your shoulders like a possessive, overly affectionate scarf. when you reached for the pumpkin juice, his hand shot out, intercepting yours with a delighted gasp.
"let me," he insisted, pouring it for you with the kind of exaggerated care usually reserved for handling ancient, fragile artifacts.
he even made sure to wipe the rim of the glass with his napkin before handing it to you, his eyes sparkling. "you shouldn’t have to lift a finger, my precious little pumpkin."
you choked on air.
across the table, your brother was already losing it, his spoon clattering into his porridge as he doubled over with laughter. tears were actually streaming down his face.
"oh, this is too good," he wheezed, slapping the table. "this is the best day of my life."
you kicked him under the table hard enough to make him yelp. "stop encouraging him."
"encourage him?" your brother gasped, wiping his eyes. "merlin’s beard, i’m taking notes!" to your absolute horror, he pulled out an actual notebook and scribbled something down. "'my precious little pumpkin'—that’s gold."
ni-ki, blissfully unaware of your suffering, was now meticulously cutting your toast into heart shapes with the precision of a master chef.
"you need proper nutrition," he informed you, deadly serious, as if this were a matter of life and death. "how else will you stay as perfect as you are?"
you buried your face in your hands, willing the ground to swallow you whole.
it only got worse. when you tried to take a bite of your eggs, ni-ki intercepted your fork, holding it up to your lips himself.
"say 'ah,'" he coaxed, grinning when you glared at him. "come on, sweetheart. you’ll waste away if you don’t eat properly."
"i can feed myself," you hissed through gritted teeth.
"but where’s the fun in that?" he pouted, leaning in until his nose brushed your cheek. "let me take care of you. just for today."
you caved, because apparently your willpower had abandoned you the second ni-ki decided to turn your life into a romantic comedy. as you reluctantly took the bite, his entire face lit up like you’d just handed him the moon.
"good?" he asked, thumb brushing the corner of your lip to catch a crumb that wasn’t even there.
you were going to combust.
your brother, the absolute traitor, was now narrating the entire ordeal to jake like it was a quidditch commentary. "and ni-ki goes in for the kill—oh! he’s wiping her mouth! ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing history!"
you threw a piece of toast at his head.
ni-ki, meanwhile, had moved on to rearranging the fruit on your plate into what appeared to be a smiley face. "you didn’t eat enough blueberries yesterday," he informed you, as if he’d been keeping track. "they’re good for your brain. and your eyes. and—"
"my soul?" you deadpanned.
"exactly," he said, completely serious, popping one into your mouth before you could protest.
by the time breakfast was over, half the great hall was watching your personal nightmare unfold with varying degrees of amusement and envy. ni-ki, still glued to your side, was now insisting on carrying your bag for you, despite your protests.
"you’re ridiculous," you muttered as he slung it over his shoulder, his free hand immediately finding yours again.
"ridiculous for you," he corrected, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
your brother fake-gagged behind you.
you were going to murder them both.
classes were somehow worse. in charms, ni-ki kept whispering ridiculous compliments every time the professor turned his back.
"your eyelashes are like tiny works of art," he sighed, resting his chin on your shoulder. "do they sparkle in the sunlight or is that just magic?"
when you shushed him, he pouted so dramatically that even the professor noticed. "mr. nishimura, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"
"just that y/n is the most brilliant witch in hogwarts," ni-ki announced proudly, as if this was a perfectly normal answer. "and possibly the universe."
the class erupted into giggles. your face burned so hot you were surprised your hair didn't catch fire.
by lunchtime, you'd developed a new survival strategy: complete and utter surrender. when ni-ki insisted on carrying all your books (stacked precariously in his arms because he refused to use a charm that might "strain their delicate pages"), you stopped protesting. when he fed you bites of his treacle tart ("you need the sugar, my little sugarplum"), you accepted it with minimal grumbling. when he held your hand everywhere you went, his thumb tracing absent circles on your skin, you stopped trying to pull away.
it was easier this way.
(and if part of you secretly thrilled at the warmth of his hand in yours, well, no one needed to know that.)
the common room was warm, the warmth making your eyelids heavy and your thoughts slow. the fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows across the scattered books and half-finished homework. you were trying to focus on your essay, really trying, but it was hard when ni-ki kept shifting beside you, his arm draped over the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally playing with the ends of your hair.
every time you moved, his hand would tighten just a little, like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on. when you reached for your pen, he intercepted your hand, lacing his fingers through yours with a quiet hum.
"your hands are cold," he murmured, bringing them to his lips to blow warm air across your skin. the gesture was so tender it made your chest ache.
across the room, your brother and his friends were playing some loud card game, but you could feel their eyes darting over to you every few seconds, their grins barely hidden. you shot them a glare, but it only made them laugh harder.
"are you comfortable?" ni-ki asked suddenly, his free hand brushing a stray hair behind your ear. his touch lingered, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone like he was memorising it. "you seem tense."
you swallowed. "i’m fine."
he frowned, his dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks as he studied your face. then, without warning, he pulled you sideways until your back was pressed against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away.
"better?" his breath was warm against your ear, his voice low and sleepy.
"ni-ki—"
"shh," he interrupted, nuzzling into the space between your shoulder and neck. "just relax. i’ve got you."
one hand traced slow circles on your stomach, the other playing with your hair, his fingers moving in a rhythm that made it impossible to think straight.
it was too much. the warmth of him, the way he smelled like fresh laundry and something sweet, the steady beat of his heart against your back—it was all so dangerously comforting. against your better judgement, you felt yourself sinking into him, the tension leaving your shoulders one breath at a time.
until he spoke again.
"you smell amazing," he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear. "like vanilla and... something else. just you."
his arms tightened slightly. "i could stay like this forever."
a choked noise escaped your throat. the entire common room seemed to be watching now, their conversations forgotten in favour of your humiliation. even the portraits on the walls were leaning in, their painted eyes wide with amusement.
"ni-ki, people are staring," you hissed, trying to squirm away.
he made a soft, wounded sound, his grip tightening. "let them stare," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. then, quieter, just for you: "you’re perfect. why wouldn’t they want to look at you?"
your face burned. "that’s not—"
"i mean it," he continued, undeterred. his chin rested on your shoulder, his voice dreamy.
"the way your eyes get all squinty when you’re trying not to laugh. how you bite your lip when you’re thinking." his fingers found yours again, lifting them to press a kiss to each knuckle. "the little noises you make when—"
"okay!" you lurched forward, nearly falling off the couch in your haste to escape. "i think i left my—my astronomy book in the library!"
ni-ki’s face fell. "i’ll come with—"
"no!" you stood too fast, your vision swimming. "i mean—you should stay. here. with my brother." you shot your brother a desperate look, but the traitor just grinned and raised his drink in salute.
for a long moment, ni-ki just stared at you, his eyes suspiciously shiny. then his lower lip actually trembled.
"you don’t want me to come," he said quietly, and it wasn’t a question.
the entire room went silent. even the fire seemed to pause.
you opened your mouth. closed it. the words "it’s not that" died on your tongue when his expression crumpled, like you’d just kicked a puppy.
your brother sighed dramatically. "just take him with you," he groaned, rubbing his temples. "before he starts crying and ruins my winning streak."
ni-ki’s face lit up like someone had flipped a switch. he was on his feet in an instant, gathering your books and pens with single-minded determination.
"i’ll carry your stuff," he announced, already stacking your papers neatly. "and your sweater. and that water bottle you forgot yesterday. and—"
you buried your face in your hands as the room erupted into laughter. somewhere to your left, someone whispered, "ten bucks says he proposes by friday."
as ni-ki proudly handed you your neatly stacked belongings, beaming like he’d just won the lottery, you came to a terrible realisation:
you were so, so screwed.
the afternoon sun was warm on your skin as you sat on the weathered wooden bench near the greenhouses, your textbook propped open in your lap for the quiz you had in next period—or at least, it had been, before ni-ki decided your lap made for a much better seat. the spell still hadn’t worn off.
once again he was all up in your personal space, sprawled across you now, his long limbs tangled with yours, his arms curled tightly around your waist like he was afraid you might vanish if he loosened his grip even slightly. his head was nestled against your shoulder, his soft hair brushing your jaw, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against your collarbone, warm and familiar.
his fingers traced absent, lazy circles on your arm, his touch feather-light but enough to send tiny sparks skittering across your skin. you tried to focus on the page in front of you, really tried, but it was impossible when ni-ki kept nuzzling closer every time you shifted, his lips brushing the curve of your neck in a way that made your pulse stutter. it was ridiculous. embarrassing, even. and yet—despite yourself—you felt your body softening into his, your free hand coming up to card through his hair almost without thinking.
just then, the crunch of footsteps on gravel made you glance up. your brother stood a few feet away, eyebrows nearly in his hairline, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“wow,” he said, crossing his arms, “you two might as well get a room already.”
ni-ki lifted his head just enough to flash him a cheeky smile, his arms tightening around you. “we tried,” he said, voice dripping with faux innocence, “but she said she had class.”
your brother barked out a laugh so loud it startled a nearby group of first-years, who scurried away like frightened mice. you, on the other hand, felt your entire face ignite.
“ni-ki,” you hissed, smacking his shoulder, “stop being a weirdo.”
but he only chuckled, low and warm, the sound vibrating against your chest. before you could scold him further, he pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just a second too long. “you’re too warm to resist,” he murmured, his breath tickling your ear.
you wanted to protest. wanted to shove him off and tell him to quit messing around, to stop saying things that made your heart do stupid, traitorous flips in your chest. but the words died in your throat when he tilted his head up to look at you, his dark eyes soft and crinkled at the corners, his smile so fond it made your ribs ache.
your brother whistled. “yep, i’m definitely telling mom about this.”
“don’t you dare,” you snapped, but your voice lacked any real heat—especially when ni-ki shifted in your lap, his nose brushing yours, his fingers threading through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“let him,” ni-ki said, grinning. “i’ve got nothing to hide.”
you groaned, dropping your forehead against his shoulder. this was a disaster. you were a disaster. and yet—when ni-ki’s laughter rumbled against you, when his thumb brushed over your knuckles in that stupidly gentle way of his—you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
that same evening you decided to sneak off to the library to finally get some studying done, but ni-ki had caught you in two minutes with a pouty look on his face. so, here you were now—at the library which had always been your sanctuary, a quiet place where you could escape everything—until now. the flickering candlelight made the words in your potions textbook blur together, but you hadn't registered anything in front of you in at least fifteen minutes. not with ni-ki pressed against your back like a second shadow, his chin hooked over your shoulder as he lazily flipped through your notes with one hand while the other traced mindless patterns on your thigh.
"you're skipping the good parts," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, his breath warm against your neck. his finger landed on a passage about amortentia variants. "this is where it gets interesting."
you swallowed hard, forcing your voice steady. "we're supposed to be researching counters, not reading about how love potions work."
ni-ki hummed, nuzzling closer until his lips brushed the sensitive spot behind your ear. "maybe i like knowing how it works," he whispered. "maybe i want to understand why i can't stop thinking about you."
the book nearly slipped from your hands. "that's—that's just the potion talking."
"is it?" he shifted suddenly, turning you to face him with surprising gentleness. the candlelight caught in his dark eyes, making them glow. "then why did i watch you all last term? why did i always find excuses to sit by you in the great hall? why—"
"shh!" you glanced frantically at the librarian, who was glaring from her desk. "you're going to get us kicked out."
ni-ki only grinned, unrepentant, leaning in until his forehead rested against yours. "worth it," he breathed. his fingers tangled with yours, squeezing gently. "you're so pretty when you're flustered."
"you're impossible," you muttered, but the protest was weak—especially when he brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle with exaggerated care.
"only for you." his thumb brushed over your racing pulse. "your heart's going crazy. is that the potion too?"
you couldn't answer. not when he was looking at you like that—like you were the only thing that mattered. not when his free hand came up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering at your jawline.
the moment stretched, fragile and breathless, until ni-ki suddenly yawned, the spell breaking as he slumped against you with a quiet groan.
"m'sleepy," he mumbled, his words slurring as he nuzzled into your neck. "your hoodie smells nice. like... like vanilla and that lavender soap you use."
you stiffened. "how do you know what soap i use?"
he didn’t answer, already half-asleep against you, his arms slipping around your waist like living seatbelts. you tried to return to your research, really tried, but how could you focus when every other page was punctuated by ni-ki's soft murmurs of "love you" and "so warm" against your skin? when his fingers would tighten unconsciously whenever you shifted, as if afraid you'd disappear?
frustrated, you turned another page with more force than necessary, your eyes scanning for anything about countering experimental love potions. that's when you saw it—a faded footnote nearly obscured by water damage:
"when the subject already harbours affection for the potion's target, the effects intensify tenfold, blurring the lines between enchantment and genuine feeling. in such cases, the potion acts not as creator, but as catalyst—removing inhibitions and amplifying existing emotions that the brewer may have otherwise concealed."
the words hit you like a bludger to the chest. your hands trembled as memories surfaced—ni-ki always volunteering to be your partner in potions, his laughter a little too bright when you brushed against him. the way he'd show up in the library "by coincidence" whenever you studied alone. how his teasing had always carried an edge of something warmer, something deeper you'd been too afraid to name.
"y/n?" ni-ki's voice was thick with sleep, but his gaze was startlingly clear as he lifted his head. "you okay? your heart's going crazy again."
"i found something," you whispered.
he leaned in, his nose brushing yours as he peered at the book. too close. always too close. you could count his eyelashes from here, see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.
"huh," he said after a moment, surprisingly lucid. "so you're telling me i didn't stand a chance?"
"what?"
ni-ki smiled, slow and devastating. "even without the potion," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, "i was already gone for you. this just... made it harder to hide."
his thumb brushed your lower lip, feather-light. "do you hate that?"
you couldn't breathe. couldn't think. the library, the book, the world outside this moment—none of it mattered. not when ni-ki was looking at you like you were his entire universe. not when his confession hung between you, raw and terrifying and beautiful.
the librarian's sharp cough shattered the moment. "if you two can't keep quiet," she snapped, "i'll have to ask you to leave."
ni-ki didn't even glance her way. his eyes stayed locked on yours, his fingers still tracing nonsense patterns on your wrist. "well?" he whispered, so quiet only you could hear. "do you want me to stop?"
that was the problem. you didn't. not really. not when every touch set your skin on fire, not when his sleepy "i love you"s had started to sound like home.
your silence was answer enough. ni-ki's grin could have powered the castle lamps as he tucked you back against his side, pressing one last kiss to your temple before nuzzling into your hair. "knew it," he murmured triumphantly.
and as you sat there, surrounded by dusty books and the steady rhythm of ni-ki's breathing, you realised with terrifying clarity that you had no idea how you would deal with this once he gets back to his normal self.
because somewhere between his whispered confessions and the way his hands always found yours, your heart had stopped questioning whether his feelings were real—and started wondering when yours had become so painfully obvious.
the next morning, you stirred awake to the unfamiliar weight of someone pressed flush against your back, their arms locked securely around your waist like living chains. for one disoriented second, your sleep-fogged brain couldn't process why your bed felt smaller, warmer—until ni-ki nuzzled into the nape of your neck with a sleepy sigh, his lips brushing your skin in a way that sent immediate sparks down your spine.
you stiffened, memories flooding back - last night's study session in the library that had stretched too late, your reluctant agreement to let him walk you to your dorm, and then...oh. then his pleading eyes in the dim torchlight, his fingers playing with yours as he'd whispered, "just five minutes? i'll be good." and like the weak-willed fool you were, you'd caved, cracking the door just enough for him to slip in before anyone noticed.
except apparently "five minutes" had turned into him sneaking under your covers when you'd fallen asleep, his body curled around yours like a second shadow. even now, his knee was wedged between yours, his chest rising and falling against your back in a steady rhythm that suggested he'd been awake for a while, just...holding you.
"morning," ni-ki murmured, his voice gravelly with sleep as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear. you shivered, feeling his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.
you tried to turn, to protest this ridiculousness, but his arms only tightened, pulling you back flush against him with surprising strength.
"don't move," he whined, his breath hot against your neck as he scattered kisses along your shoulder.
his hand slid up from your waist to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. "so perfect."
"ni-ki," you started, but the protest died in your throat when his teeth grazed the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting down just enough to make you gasp. he soothed the sting with his tongue, then did it again slightly lower, his free hand slipping under your sleep shirt to splay across your stomach possessively.
"mine," he murmured against your skin between kisses that were quickly turning into something more.
his lips travelled up the column of your throat, sucking deliberately until you knew without looking he was leaving marks—dark, unmistakable hickeys that would be impossible to hide later. when you squirmed, he pinned you gently but firmly, his thigh sliding more firmly between yours as he continued his devastating path along your collarbone.
"ni-ki, stop—" you gasped, but it came out breathless, unconvincing even to your own ears.
he lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark with something that made your stomach flip. "make me," he challenged, voice low and rough. when you didn't respond, too busy trying to remember how to breathe, he grinned that stupid, heart-stopping grin before ducking back down to worry another bruise into your skin, this time high enough that no collar would hide it.
"you're terrible," you managed, but your hands had somehow found their way into his hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands as his mouth worked magic on your throat.
ni-ki hummed, the vibration against your skin making you shiver.
"your terrible," he corrected, punctuating each word with a kiss. he shifted suddenly, rolling you onto your back so he could loom over you, his hands framing your face as he took in the damage—the blooming purple marks scattered across your neck, the flush creeping down your chest.
his expression turned unbearably smug, "pretty."
before you could respond, he was kissing you properly, slow and deep and devastating, his fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head just how he wanted it. when he finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he pressed his forehead to yours with a quiet sigh.
"how are you even real," he murmured, the ridiculous nickname paired with the way his thumb traced your swollen lips making your stomach swoop. "my perfect, perfect y/n."
you should've pushed him away. should've reminded him this wasn't real, that it was just the potion. but as the morning light painted gold across his features, as his hands moved over you with a reverence that stole your breath, you couldn't bring yourself to care.
. . .
you didn’t hear it from ni-ki.
it was your brother who told you, somewhere between transfiguration and charms, like it was nothing. like it didn’t matter. he was shoving books into his bag, not even looking at you when he said it.
“potion wore off last night,” he muttered, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.
your hands froze around the strap of your bag.
“ni-ki didn’t say anything?” you asked, your voice too light, too careful. your heart was suddenly pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.
your brother just shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “he seemed kind of… weird about it.”
and that was it. no grand moment, no dramatic shift. no lingering looks or whispered explanations. just—over. like none of it had ever happened. like you hadn’t spent a week tangled up in him, learning the shape of his laughter against your skin, the way his hands always found yours like they belonged there. like he hadn’t looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.
so you did the only thing you could. you pretended.
the next two days you acted like nothing had changed. like you hadn’t once been his entire world. when you passed him in the corridor, you nodded politely, your face carefully blank. when he held the door open for you, you gave him a stiff smile and nothing more. in charms class, you sat two desks away, your eyes fixed stubbornly on your parchment, even when you felt his gaze lingering on the side of your face. and when his shoulder brushed yours by accident in the crowded hallway, you barely let yourself flinch, barely let yourself remember how those same hands had traced every inch of you like you were something precious.
it was fine. it had to be fine. this was just how things were supposed to be—back to normal, back to before. it was safer this way. less humiliating.
(because what if he remembered everything? what if he remembered the way you’d melted into his touch, what if he knew—)
you swallowed the thought down like acid.
it was just the potion, after all.
except—
except sometimes, when you weren’t paying attention, you’d catch him staring. his expression unreadable, his fingers flexing at his sides like he was stopping himself from reaching out. and once, just once, when you turned a corner too quickly and nearly collided with him, his hands came up instinctively to steady you—just for a second—before he remembered himself and let go like you’d burned him.
you told yourself you imagined the way his breath hitched.
you told yourself a lot of things.
but then the same evening after class you were heading towards the common room, nearly at the fat lady's portrait when you felt it—the familiar prickle at the back of your neck that always meant ni-ki was nearby. you quickened your pace instinctively, but before you could turn the corner, arms wrapped around you from behind in a hold so warm and familiar it made your breath stutter. his chest pressed flush against your back, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he exhaled shakily against your neck.
"why have you been ignoring me?"
his voice was softer than you'd ever heard it, barely above a whisper, but it resonated through you like thunder. your hands hovered uncertainly over his arms where they were locked around your waist, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
"i haven't," you lied, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.
ni-ki hummed, the vibration travelling through your back and settling somewhere deep in your chest.
"you have," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear in a way that made your knees weak. "you stopped talking to me. stopped looking at me like..." his voice cracked slightly, "like i matter to you."
you swallowed hard, staring resolutely at the wall ahead. "i just figured... things went back to normal. this is how we were before."
his arms tightened almost imperceptibly around you. "i thought you were embarrassed," he admitted quietly, his breath warm against your neck.
"when the potion wore off, i didn’t know how to face you. i thought—i thought you hated how i acted. how clingy i was. how much i—" he cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "but then you started avoiding me, and i couldn’t just sit there and do nothing."
your heart pounded so violently you were certain he could feel it. "ni-ki..."
"you do know that i like you, right?" his voice dropped lower, more vulnerable than you'd ever heard it.
"you know how love potions work. when someone's already..." he hesitated, his grip on you shifting slightly, "when someone's already in love, it makes everything stronger. more intense. everything i did, everything i said to you—i meant all of it."
slowly, so slowly, you turned in his arms. he let you, his hands sliding to your waist to steady you as you faced him properly for the first time in days. his eyes were darker than you remembered, full of something raw and open that made your breath catch.
"so you actually liked me before the potion?" you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet hallway.
ni-ki sighed, one hand coming up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face with trembling fingers.
"i've liked you since third year when you hexed that sunghoon kid for stepping on my broom," he admitted, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. "i just... never thought you'd look at me that way."
your hands found purchase in the front of his robes, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you upright. "so all that time... the cuddling, the stupid nicknames, the way you'd kiss my forehead when you thought i was asleep—"
"things i've wanted to do for years," he interrupted softly, his other hand coming up to cradle your face. his touch was feather-light, reverent, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he pressed too hard. "the potion just... gave me the courage to actually do them."
you could feel his pulse racing where his wrist brushed against your neck, could see the nervous hope shining in his eyes despite the confident set of his jaw. it was this—this vulnerability from someone usually so self-assured—that finally broke you.
ni-ki's breath hitched when you leaned into his touch, his eyes darting between yours.
"can i kiss you now?" he asked, his voice rough with barely restrained want. "properly? without any potions or excuses?"
your answer was to rise up on your toes and close the distance between you.
his lips were softer than you imagined, moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache. one of his hands slid into your hair while the other pulled you flush against him, eliminating what little space remained between you. you could feel the way his breath stuttered when your fingers tangled in his hair, could taste the quiet sigh he let out when you kissed him back with equal fervour.
it was slow and sweet and so devastatingly perfect that you forgot to breathe. ni-ki kissed you like he was memorising you, like he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment and wanted to savour every second. when you finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, his cheeks were flushed and his lips were kiss-swollen and he was looking at you like you'd hung the moon.
"no more pretending?" you whispered, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
ni-ki grinned, bright and unrestrained, before capturing your lips again in a kiss that left no room for doubt. "never again," he murmured against your mouth, his arms tightening around you.
in which being paired with sunghoon leads to way more than just classwork.
pairing: mean!dom!sunghoon x sub!fem!reader || wc: 10.3k || cw: smut! public sex, degradation, teasing, humiliation, praise, fingering, oral (f. rec), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t.), dirty talk, use of petnames, swearing, marking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, making out, a little angst (and a liiiittle fluff if you squint), a tiny bit of sir!sunghoon, sunghoon is mean but not that mean, mentions of enhypen’s jay and jake, le sserafim’s yunjin and txt’s taehyun || warnings: +18 content, mdni!!! || a/n: when i first started writing this i thought of it as a short drabble but…….i got a bit carried away
you sigh when you walk into class.
yunjin’s seat is empty, her bag nowhere in sight. she had texted you thirty minutes ago: “not going to class, i feel awful 💀 good luck with bio, text me later! <3”
you had replied with a string of panicked emojis, but it was too late already. yunjin was your lab partner, the only reason you got through this class every week.
you walk towards your seat at the end of the class and set your notebook down quietly, half-hoping the teacher would just let you work alone. but then you hear your name.
“since miss huh and mr. sim are absent today, you’ll be paired with mr. park.” you freeze.
you glance sideways, in an attempt to avoid eye contact, but sunghoon is already looking at you.
of course he is.
he’s lounging back in his chair like he owns the place, one arm slung lazily over the backrest of jake’s empty seat, a lollipop in his mouth, smirking like he just won something. your stomach sinks.
you’re not friends. you’ve barely spoken outside of group assignments and hallway glances. but sunghoon is… insufferable: he’s always teasing you for no reason, calling you “quiet girl” or “shy thing” when he passes you, brushing too close when he doesn’t have to.
and worst of all? you’re weak to it.
he shifts to the empty desk beside yours with a loud noise, dropping into the seat like it’s a sofa. the moment he settles, he turns to you with that same slow, lazy smirk that is always adorning his face.
“hi, princess,” he says, voice low and mocking.
you turn your head, immediately pulling your textbook closer. “hi.”
“aww,” he hums sweetly. “don’t be shy! we’re partners now.” he leans in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath near your cheek. “guess you’re stuck with me today, huh?”
as the teacher starts explaining the lesson you’ll work on today, you try to focus on your notes — really, you do, but it’s impossible when you feel his eyes on you. watching, enjoying every second of your suffering.
“you always sit so straight,” he murmurs after some time. “so… proper. bet you’ve never even skipped a class.”
you don’t respond.
he grins. “i like good girls.”
your breath catches and you grip your pen tighter, silently praying that your cheeks don’t start burning. but then you feel it, his knee nudging against yours under the desk, casual and deliberate. you gulp.
and he notices.
“are you nervous, baby?” he whispers, voice almost too soft to hear. “or is that just how you always behave when i’m near you?”
your cheeks burn instantly.
“s-stop talking,” you mumble, flipping the page in your book too hard.
he chuckles, low and amused. “god, you’re cute.”
you try to focus on the lecture, eyes fixed on the whiteboard, but it’s no use. every time you glance at sunghoon he’s watching you with that amused smirk, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
his knee presses lightly against yours again and your breath catches, heart pounding in your chest. you clamp your hands over your notebook, pretending to write, but you haven’t written a single word. how could you when sunghoon is right beside you, legs spread out, one hand hidden under the desk and dangerously inching closer to you?
at first, it’s subtle. the light brush of his fingers against your knee like it could’ve been an accident. like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. but you don’t, you can’t. it’s like your body’s frozen.
his fingers linger there, just barely grazing your skin. then, a little bolder this time, he drags the tips up and down slowly, just once, making it clear that this is intentional. he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows what it’s doing to you.
your spine stiffens, thighs tensing slightly. the air between you grows thick, tense, filled with unspoken things. you still don’t look at him. you can’t. if you do, you’ll fall apart right there at your desk. instead, you stare blankly at the whiteboard, at the scrawled words you’re supposed to be copying, but they blur and shift out of focus with every inch his hand moves.
then, just when you think you might explode from the anticipation, he leans in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath near your cheek, even smell the faint trace of cologne on his shirt.
"keep your eyes on the board," he mutters under his breath, voice low enough only you can hear. “act like you’re paying attention, got it?”
your thighs twitch as he caresses your skin, higher this time. and you try to focus, really, you do, but as his fingers go even higher and graze your inner thigh it’s impossible.
"what, cat got your tongue?" he smirks, watching you squirm. “you’re so quiet all the time, but look at you now. sitting here like a good little toy while i do whatever i want.”
your cheeks burn. you bite down hard on your lip to stay silent, but he notices — of course he does.
“you like this, don’t you?” he says, leaning in, his mouth brushing your ear. “you pretend to be all shy and innocent, but i know you're soaking through your panties for me.”
your breath hitches, and that alone makes him chuckle.
“pathetic,” he whispers, cruel and amused. “you’d let me do anything to you as long as no one else finds out, huh? sitting here letting me touch you like this in class, acting like you’re not loving every second of it.”
his fingers press higher, centimeters away from your panties, and you flinch, grabbing the edge of your desk, knuckles white. he grins.
"aw, baby. scared someone’s gonna notice?" he teases. “maybe they already have. maybe they’re watching you fidget and wondering what’s got the shy girl squirming in her seat.”
you shake your head, breath trembling.
he tsks. “you can beg me to stop, yeah?”
you should be pushing him away. you know that, but your body reacts before your mind can catch up, just like it always does around him.
it’s not the first time he’s done something like this, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. like the time his hand lingered on your waist a second too long when he passed behind you in the library. or that morning in gym class when he caught you staring at the veins in his forearms and raised an eyebrow like he could see right through you.
he never says much. he doesn’t have to. a smirk, a look. the way he leans just a little too close. he’s been breaking down your defenses one touch at a time. you had told yourself that he was just messing with you, that he didn’t mean anything by it. but now his fingers are brushing higher, his breath hot against your cheek, and you're letting him. and the worst part? you want this.
“just what i thought,” he mutters. “such a filthy little thing when no one's looking.”
and then he smirks again.
“stay quiet for me, sweetheart,” he whispers, eyes fixed on your red cheeks. “or i’ll make you beg out loud.”
his fingers hover just above your soaked panties for a moment, the slowest tease. then, with deliberate cruelty, he slides two fingers past the thin fabric, pressing against your wetness. your breath hitches sharply and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to hold back the rush of sensation. sunghoon smirks, watching your reaction like a predator watching his prey. he presses those fingers gently at first, just brushing your clit over your soaked panties, teasing you mercilessly.
“you’re so damn wet for me,” he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction. “didn’t think the shy little thing would be this desperate.”
you can feel the air hitting your cunt as he pulls your panties aside. then, without warning, he pushes his fingers inside you, slow and teasing, just a little, curling with precision, searching for that perfect spot that makes your body tremble. your back arches off the seat before you can stop it, a strangled moan caught between your lips.
he waits for you to adjust, watching how you shiver beneath his touch, then presses deeper. two fingers sliding inside with a wet, slick sound muffled by the desk. he moves them in slow, steady strokes, curling and twisting just right to stretch and fill you, making you clench instinctively around him.
“you like that?” he whispers, voice low and husky. “that’s just my fingers, baby, and you’re clenching already. just imagine what else i could do to you if you let me.”
his other hand isn’t passive; it slips under the hem of your skirt, creeping up your thigh with feather-light touches that contrast the deep motion of his fingers inside you. his fingertips find your clit, circling it slowly, teasing in small movements that make your hips jerk involuntarily.
you try to stay still, to not give him the satisfaction, but your whole body betrays you, every flick and press on your clit is pushing you closer to the edge.
sunghoon’s voice drops even lower, thick with amusement. “you like that, don’t you? you like being stretched and touched like a filthy little toy. you’re so desperate you’d let me do this even here, in class, with so many people around us.”
his fingers flick harder over your clit now, and you whimper, trying to bury your face in your arms on the desk to hide the noise you can’t control. but it’s no use. he curls his fingers deeper, rubbing that perfect spot inside you in perfect rhythm with the relentless teasing on your clit. your legs shake, your breath becomes ragged.
“look at you clenching,” he murmurs. “so needy. are you gonna cum just from this? from being fingered like a cheap toy where anyone could see?”
you try to speak, to utter any word you can think of, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it, knowing your voice will be filled with desperate need. so you nod helplessly, your hands gripping the edge of the desk with so much strength it almost hurts.
“you really are my dumb little thing, huh?” sunghoon whispers, chuckling. “go ahead, baby. cum for me. be a good girl.”
and you do — hard.
your whole body shakes, walls pulsing around his fingers, slick dripping down onto his hand. he coos mockingly, fingers still working you through it, riding out your orgasm. your thighs tremble, overstimulated, and you bite down hard on your lip to keep any sounds from slipping out, jaw clenched. he finally pulls his fingers away, slowly, like he’s savoring every second of your dirty encounter. then brings them to his lips, sucking them clean with a smirk that makes your brain short-circuit.
"you taste so fucking sweet," he murmurs in your ear, chuckling as if he’s not just completely ruined you in the middle of class.
your heart is still racing, vision hazy, and you're too dazed to even think. you shift in your seat, thighs sticky, trying to fix your skirt with shaky fingers. the world feels like it’s moving in slow motion. you can’t focus, can’t breathe, can’t believe what just happened, and how easily he’s acting like it was nothing.
you’re still catching your breath when the bell rings. you don’t look at sunghoon. you don’t dare to. you just grab your bag and sprint out of the classroom. or at least, you try, because you don’t even make it two steps before you feel cold fingers curling tightly around your wrist.
sunghoon.
“where do you think you’re going, angel?” he mutters, voice sharp but laced with amusement. “you thought i was gonna let you get away with the little show you pulled in class?”
you glance around the empty hallway, but no one’s around. still, the risk of someone hearing him makes your breath hitch.
sunghoon wastes no time and tugs you down the corridor, pulling you into an empty class without asking. he shuts the door behind him with a quiet click.
“you know,” he murmurs, cornering you, “i’ve never seen someone try so hard to not moan. you were shaking, baby.”
his hand drags slowly down your side, fingers grazing the curve of your waist, and your body responds before your brain can catch up, a sharp shiver runs down your spine. the back of your knees nearly give out when your hips brush the edge of a desk behind you.
"so sensitive," he adds under his breath, eyes flicking down like he’s already imagining what he’ll do next. “what am i gonna do with you now, hm?”
you look at him, cheeks still flushed. your heart is pounding so hard in your chest you swear he can hear it. your back hits the edge of the desk, anchoring you, but your legs still feel shaky beneath you.
“you liked it? that cute little act of yours?” he chuckles, breath ghosting over your jaw.
you don’t answer, you can’t. your lips part, but no words come out, only the soft hitch of your breath as he moves closer.
sunghoon leans in, mouth against your ear. “you’re such a desperate little thing when I touch you. and you like it when i talk to you like this, don’t you?”
your thighs press together instinctively, breath catching in your throat. god, you wish you could say no, but your body betrays you. and he knows it.
his hand snakes under your skirt again, fingers gliding over the soaked patch he left behind earlier, pressing lightly, just enough to make you gasp.
"good girls don’t act like this," he whispers, voice dark and close against your neck. "but you? you sit there, all innocent, begging for it without even saying a word, looking at me with that pretty face."
your thighs clench around his hand, hips twitching forward before you can stop yourself. he notices and grins, slow and wicked.
"ohhh," he coos, dragging the word out like it tastes good on his tongue. "you like when i call you that? pretty? my pretty little mess."
heat floods your cheeks, your chest, your stomach, everywhere. your hands grip the edge of the desk behind you, trying to ground yourself as his fingers slowly tease your clothed entrance. he presses a cruelly gentle kiss under your jaw before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes.
“i bet you’d let me mark you up right now. wouldn’t you?”
you swallow hard, unable to meet his eyes.
he hums, satisfied. “go ahead then. ask me.”
you hesitate. your lips part, then close again. your heart is hammering so loudly you can barely think. and then…
“…please.”
it’s barely a whisper, but it’s there. soft and desperate.
sunghoon smirks. “god, i’m going to ruin you.”
he dips his head to your neck, and when his lips finally latch on, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark, the sharp pull of pressure makes you moan. your fingers clutch at his shirt without thinking.
"shh," he murmurs against your skin, dragging his lips over the spot he just marked, only to suck again, slow, deliberate, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you.
then he trails kisses along your jaw, infuriatingly slow. your head tips back, exposing more of your throat, and he takes his time, tasting every inch like he owns it. you cling to him, hips shifting, trying to chase some kind of friction, but he just chuckles at the way you bite your lip to keep the whimpers in.
by the time his hands move up to knead your breasts over your shirt, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric, he knows.
you’re already gone. your head’s spinning, body humming with overstimulation, and then—
“on your knees,” sunghoon snaps, voice low and sharp.
your body reacts before your mind catches up. you drop immediately, knees pressing into the cold classroom floor. your heart pounds in your chest. you asked for this — wanted it. wanted him to treat you like you were nothing but a toy he could use.
sunghoon barely looks at you as he walks past, shrugging off his shirt and tossing it carelessly over a chair. he takes his seat on the edge of the desk, legs spread, towering above you.
"look at you," he scoffs, gaze dragging slowly down your body, lingering on the way your thighs press together. "always so desperate. bet you were soaking the second i called you 'pathetic' earlier, weren’t you?"
you nod, shame and arousal twisting your mind. your cheeks burn, but you can’t help the way your thighs twitch, seeking friction.
sunghoon chuckles, darkly. “of course you were. little freak.”
he beckons you with two fingers, and you crawl over slowly, like a good girl — because that’s what he wants you to be. when you reach him, he grabs your jaw, tilting your head up until you eyes meet his.
“say it,” he orders.
you blink, confused. “say what?”
his grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you listen. “say you like when i treat you like this. say you like being my dumb little toy.”
your breath catches. heat floods your cheeks again, feeling ashamed, but not enough to drown the arousal that’s eating you alive. your lips part. “i… i like it.”
“louder.”
you swallow.
“i like it,” you repeat, voice shaking. “i like when you’re mean to me.”
sunghoon smirks and leans in just enough for his breath to graze your lips. “good girl.”
he pulls you up to straddle his thigh, the pressure of his muscle against your heat making your legs tremble. one hand slipping between your legs, cupping your heat through the fabric of your panties.
“already wet,” he mocks, laughing softly. “you’re pathetic. you know that?”
you nod, moaning softly as his fingers press harder. he moves your panties aside with ease and runs two fingers through your folds — slow and lazy, like he has all the time in the world.
“so needy,” he mutters, teasing your clit with the pad of his finger. “and for what? i haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
you whimper, trying to rock your hips against his thigh for some relief, but his other hand lands on your waist, holding you still.
“nuh-uh,” he scolds. “you don’t get to move unless i say so. you’re my toy, remember?”
you bite your lip, nodding quickly.
sunghoon hums, satisfied, then he finally slips a finger inside. he does it slowly, curling it just right. your back arches immediately, breath hitching.
“god, i fingered you twenty minutes ago and you’re still tight,” he groans. “and you’re clenching like you’ve never had anything inside you. pathetic.”
“sunghoon—” you moan, but he cuts you off with a glare.
“that’s sir to you right now.”
you shiver, voice barely above a whisper. “yes, sir…”
he adds another finger, stretching you out, fucking you slowly, deliberately, like he’s enjoying watching you fall apart inch by inch. your moans get louder, needier, and you cling to his shoulders, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, trying to hold yourself together.
he leans in, lips brushing your ear. “you gonna cum again just from my fingers, pretty?” he taunts. “gonna make a mess like the filthy little girl you are?”
your body trembles, your legs starting to shake. you’re right on the edge, and he knows it.
“c’mon, beg for it.”
“please,” you whisper, desperate. “please let me cum, sir. i need it—ple—”
you moan louder as sunghoon’s fingers sink deeper inside, slow and cruel, keeping you right on the edge. your hips keep twitching but he doesn’t let you move, just keeps you there, needy and whimpering in his lap.
“please,” you breathe, voice wrecked. “please, sir, i’ll be good—just—please fuck me.”
he tilts his head, smug as ever. “you sound so pretty when you beg,” he mutters, pulling his fingers out and watching your body tremble. “makes me want to ruin you even more.”
you’re nodding before he even says anything else, like you’ll agree to anything if it means he will finally fuck you.
sunghoon stands up, undoing his belt with slow, deliberate movements. “on the desk,” he says. “face down.”
you are quick to obey, bending over the cool surface.
he chuckles, pulling your skirt around your hips and shoving your panties down. “fuck…” he groans, watching your dripping folds. “you’re so fucking wet, angel.”
your knees buckle at the sound his voice. you feel the heat of him behind you. and then you feel it, the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance. you whimper when he just rests there, not pushing in, just waiting.
“tell me who you belong to.”
“you,” you whisper.
“louder.”
“you. i’m yours, sir.”
that’s all it takes.
he thrusts into you in one hard, deep motion and you cry out, your hands scrambling for grip on the desk as he fills you completely.
“fuck,” sunghoon groans behind you, snapping his hips again, harder. “you feel so fucking good like this. tight little cunt just made for me.”
you moan helplessly, cheek pressed to the desk, eyes rolling back as he fucks into you with deep, punishing thrusts. he grabs your hips, dragging you back to meet him with every stroke, skin slapping loudly in the quiet room.
“god, listen to that,” he laughs, breathless. “so fucking wet. all that begging and whining, just to get split open like this.”
you can barely answer — the pleasure is too much, the stretch too good. all you can do is whimper and moan and let him use you like you wanted.
“you’re clenching,” he growls, voice right by your ear now. “you’re gonna cum for me, baby? gonna cum on my cock like a good fucking toy?”
“yes—yes, sir, please—”
his hand snakes around your waist, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles in perfect sync with his thrusts.
“c’mon, show me what a good girl you are.” he whispers.
your orgasm hits hard, it’s almost overwhelming. your whole body locks up, walls pulsing around him, crying out his name like a prayer.
“that’s it,” he groans, fucking you through it. “make a mess for me. that’s my girl.”
he keeps going, deeper and sloppier now, chasing his own release. and then you feel him twitch inside you, the low growl in his throat as he buries himself deep into you and cums hard, filling you completely.
for a moment, after he’s finished, there’s just heavy breathing and the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. he pulls out slowly, fingers trailing lazily over your heated skin as he leans down to leave a warm kiss along your spine.
“look at you,” he murmurs with a smirk, voice low and teasing. “all wrecked because of me.”
you bite your lip, face burning. you don’t dare move, not trusting your legs to hold you up yet. your heart is still racing, your body trembling slightly. sunghoon stays there for a bit longer, eyes looking up and down your back like he’s memorizing the view. then he straightens, tucking himself back into his pants and adjusting his belt with ease. you hear the familiar click of the buckle, but you’re still trying to collect yourself.
“don’t think this is a one-time thing, angel,” he says, voice full of amusement. “you’re mine now, and I’m just getting started.”
you finally glance over your shoulder at him, still bent over the desk, lips parted to say something, but the look he gives you steals every thought straight out of your head.
his smile is wicked. “aw, don’t look at me like that,” he coos, taking a step closer and gently fixing your skirt over your hips. “you’re the one who begged for it, remember?”
you let out a shaky breath, swallowing hard.
“god,” he laughs softly, running his thumb over your swollen bottom lip before leaning in close, voice brushing your ear. “you should see yourself right now. all flushed and fucked out, it's adorable.”
“sunghoon…” you murmur, unsure if it’s a warning, a plea, or just his name falling from your lips like muscle memory.
he hums in response, then tilts your chin up so your eyes meet. “you’ll be thinking about this all day, won’t you?”
you blink at him, still dazed, still aching. and he knows.
“you should, you look pretty when you’re thinking.”
before you can reply, he plants a surprisingly soft kiss on your cheek and turns toward the door. as he opens it, he glances over his shoulder, smirk still playing at his lips.
“try not to get too distracted in our next class, princess.”
then he’s gone, unbothered, like he didn’t just ruin you completely and leave your legs shaking.
and you’re left standing there, heart pounding, lips tingling, and one very real problem: how the hell are you supposed to walk out of this classroom like nothing happened?
you take a second to fix your skirt, smooth your hair, wipe at your cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt. you take a few shaky steps toward your backpack, grabbing your phone with a hand that’s still trembling slightly. you open your messages, ignoring the chaos reflected on the screen — messy hair, flushed cheeks, glassy eyes — and click on yunjin’s name. there’s a half-typed message from when you first walked into class. you delete it and start over.
you: do you think you’ll be sick tomorrow too?
you: just asking
you: no reason
you: like maybe don’t rush to get better. rest up. hydrate. sleep lots. drink tea. rest. a lot.
you stare at the screen, lips pressed tight, and then add:
you: seriously. please be sick again.
your thumb hovers over the send button.
you think of sunghoon’s voice in your ear, the press of his lips to your cheek, that stupid smirk as he walked out like he didn’t just rearrange your guts. you think about sitting next to him again, about his hand on your thigh under the desk.
you hit send before you can regret it.
and you immediately regret it.
then you press your face into your hands and let out a groan, muffled and entirely helpless.
you're in so much trouble.
you told yourself it was just a phase.
just hormones, just bad timing.
but it’s not just that.
you dream about sunghoon. think about him at night when you’re alone, hand between your thighs, biting your pillow to stay quiet while his voice echoes in your head.
you hate that he’s the one who makes you feel like this. hate that he’s cocky, careless, cruel.
it’s been three weeks since that day and you can’t stop thinking about him. not when he keeps on touching you, not when it feels good, too good, so good you can’t even think.
three weeks of sneaking into bathrooms during study period, of sitting in his lap in the back of the library as his cock is deep inside you, of biting your knuckles to stay quiet while his fingers ruin you during class.
three weeks and he still hasn’t kissed you. not really. only bitten lips and bruising touches and words that make your legs shake.
and even though you know it’s wrong, know you should pull away, your body is already choosing for you.
just like it always does when it comes to him.
yunjin came back the next week after the incident, and the teacher still kept you paired with her for “consistency,”. you didn't protest. you couldn’t.
but that wasn’t an impediment for sunghoon. he hasn’t stopped teasing you since that first time. if anything, he’s gotten even worse: touching you shamelessly on the hallway, whispering filth against your ear during group discussions, acting like it’s funny how easy you are now.
it always starts the same way now: a look across the classroom, a tiny twitch of his lip when you make eye contact, and then, after the bell, that slow, deliberate walk past your desk as he brushes his fingers along your arm like it’s an accident. but in reality it’s a silent demand: come.
today is no different.
now you’re alone again — he told you to stay after class, so you did. you always do.
the door clicks shut behind him. he doesn’t say anything at first, just leans against it, looking you over like he’s bored.
“you wore that skirt on purpose,” he says, voice low. “didn’t you?”
you shift in your seat. “no.”
he laughs, dry and mocking. “you’re such a bad liar.”
your cheeks burn. your legs press together under the desk.
he walks toward you slowly. one hand rests on the back of your chair, the other ghosts over your thigh.
“you know i’ve had to sit through two full periods with my cock hard because of you?” his fingers grip your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “i bet your panties are already soaked,” he murmurs. “you’ve probably been aching all day, waiting for me to do something. am i wrong?”
you swallow hard, he grins.
he leans closer, breath brushing your cheek as his hand slides higher up your thigh, warm through the fabric of your skirt. “what’s the point of pretending?” he murmurs. “we both know what you came here for.”
your breath hitches. you want to tell him it’s not true, that you just stayed because he asked, but your thighs are already tensing, betraying you. your heart is pounding in your ears, and he knows. he always knows.
his fingers push the hem of your skirt higher, dragging it up until it bunches around your hips. he grins when he sees your panties.
“lace?” he scoffs softly. “you really did dress for me.”
you shake your head weakly, but it’s useless. he slips a hand between your legs and presses his fingers against the damp cotton, rubbing slow circles over your clothed clit until your body jolts.
“fuck,” he whispers. “you’re soaked already. pathetic.”
your lips part in a breathless whine. he’s not even inside you yet and you’re already trembling. you should stop this. you should tell him you want more than this. but when his fingers hook under the waistband and slide your panties down, you lift your hips without thinking, letting him pull them off.
“spread,” he orders simply, and you do — knees falling open for him, desk chair creaking quietly under you.
sunghoon turns you around and sinks to his knees in front of you, eyes heavy-lidded, focused. you feel the cool air against your skin, the heat of his breath as he leans in.
“look at you,” he mutters. “needy little thing. you’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?”
you nod before you can stop yourself. shame blooms in your chest, but it’s drowned by the ache between your legs.
his fingers trail over your folds, light and teasing, avoiding where you need him most. you let out a soft, desperate whimper, hips twitching.
“aw,” he says mockingly. “you want it so bad you’re shaking.”
he finally drags a finger between your folds, slick coating his skin. then another. slow, deliberate. and then he pushes one finger in — just past the knuckle — watching your face twist as you try not to moan.
“tight,” he murmurs. “always so tight for me.”
he fucks the finger in deeper, curling it slightly, then adds a second. the stretch stings, but you take it, thighs trembling on either side of him. his thumb brushes over your clit at the same time, and your back arches.
“sunghoon—”
he tsks. “keep your voice down, baby. unless you want someone to walk in and see what a mess you are.”
your mouth clamps shut, eyes shut with the effort of holding it in. his fingers work faster now, hitting that sweet spot, rubbing circles over your clit in rhythm.
“look at you,” he breathes, almost to himself. “clenching around me like a whore. you gonna cum just like this? from my fingers again?”
you nod frantically, tears spilling as your thighs twitch and your stomach tightens.
he grins, cruel and beautiful. “do it, then. cum for me. be my filthy little thing.”
you do — choking on the whimper you can’t hold back, body locking up around his fingers as your orgasm crashes through you. you barely hear the wet sounds echoing in the empty room, barely feel the drool on your chin or the tears on your cheeks.
he keeps moving, even as you twitch and gasp, overstimulated. he only slows when you collapse forward, clutching his shoulder weakly.
his voice is low against your ear. “god, you’re so easy now.”
you’re still trembling when his fingers finally slip out of you, coated and glistening. your panties lie discarded on the floor. your fingers weakly gripping the fabric of his shirt as if it’ll keep you grounded, as if you’re not seconds away from falling apart again at the mere sound of his voice.
sunghoon doesn’t give you time to recover. he stands slowly, wiping his fingers on your inner thigh like you’re just a napkin for his mess, not a girl barely holding herself together.
“you always do this,” he mutters, brushing your hair behind your ear with mock gentleness. “act so shy around everyone else, all quiet and sweet… and then the second we’re alone, you’re dripping for me.”
your eyes flutter shut at the sound of his voice. he knows exactly what he’s doing. he knows the way his words make you ache, how every cruel nickname, every degrading comment, digs deeper than just lust. you don’t want to enjoy it, you don’t want to need him, but the proof is between your legs, soaking the chair beneath you.
“you don’t even try to pretend anymore,” he goes on, voice dropping lower. “you just sit there and take it like a good little toy.”
your stomach twists at that, shame and arousal knotted together. you should say something, anything, but all that slips past your lips is a broken, quiet, “sunghoon…”
his hand grabs your chin, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath catch. he tilts your face up until your eyes meet his. his expression is unreadable.
“what?” he asks.
you blink at him, dazed. “i… i can’t—”
he cuts you off with a slow shake of his head, and suddenly he’s moving again, dragging your chair back just enough to make more room. you realize what he’s doing.
his belt clicks open with a soft sound. your breath catches in your throat. you swallow hard. your legs are still spread, panties still off. and he’s staring at you like he already owns you, like he knows he can do anything and you won’t stop him.
because you won’t.
he approaches you as he strokes himself lazily, his other hand curling around the back of your neck, face inches away from you. he doesn’t kiss you. he never kisses you. but his breath is warm against your lips, and for a second, it feels almost intimate.
“you gonna let me fuck you right here, angel?” he whispers. “right on this little classroom, where anyone could walk in and see you like this?”
your body betrays you again. your hips twitch, a soft noise slipping out of your throat.
he grins.
“thought so.” he mocks, reaching for your hips to carry you and sit you on the desk. you watch him kick his lips as he spreads your legs, slowly, teasingly.
he pushes himself forward slowly, the tip of his hardened dick teasing your wet folds, making your breath hitch. your hands grip the edges of the desk like you’re trying to hold yourself together, but all you can think about is how close his face is — how those thick, dark eyebrows furrow in concentration, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his eyes flicker down to your chest before locking back with yours.
sunghoon doesn’t notice the way you look at him. or maybe he does, but chooses to ignore it. his gaze never softens, never lingers on your mouth.
he’s never kissed you. never once. it’s an unspoken rule. but you want it. you want to press your lips to his, to taste him, to make this whole mess feel real. you want to catch him off guard, to break the rules between you both even just once.
but you don’t say a thing. you just watch him, eyes tracing every inch of his face, memorizing the way his breath stutters as he pushes deeper inside you. the slow stretch, the way his body fits against yours.
his hand tightens on your neck, pulling you forward just a little, and his voice cuts through your thoughts.
“look at me,” he orders, voice low and rough.
your eyes snap back to his, and you nod, barely able to breathe.
“good girl,” he says, starting to move again, slow and relentless.
and still, no kiss.
he doesn’t slow down; if anything, his movements grow more deliberate, more possessive. every thrust presses deeper, setting fire to your nerves, pulling a gasp from your lips. you lock your hands behind his neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair at the nape, needing to hold him still even as he owns every inch of you.
“you’re so tight,” he murmurs, voice low, rasping with hunger. “always so fucking ready for me, no matter how many times i fuck you.”
the way he says it makes your skin flush with a mix of shame and pride. you can feel the muscles in his jaw clench, his breaths shallow, desperate. your eyes catch his, dark and intense, searching yours like he’s trying to memorize the exact moment you lose yourself beneath him.
the rhythm between you shifts, faster now, harder. it’s raw and urgent, like the world outside doesn’t exist. your body arches instinctively. his hands grip your hips, steadying you.
“you’re mine,” he growls low, almost possessively. “nobody else touches you like this. say it.”
your head drops forward, breath ragged, but you manage the words. “i’m yours.” there’s something in the way you say it that makes his grip on your hips tighten just a little.
his face lowers toward yours, eyes dark and intense, flickering with something you can’t quite name. your heart hammers louder, the desperate hope still lighting inside you — is he going to…?
he stays close, so close you can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the roughness of his breath mixing with yours. your eyes flicker to his mouth, lips slightly parted, so tempting, so close. you want to lean in, to close the distance, but your throat tightens and you stay still, waiting for him.
instead, his voice drops to a whisper, thick with raw need. “say it again. louder.”
your voice breaks as you repeat, “i’m yours.” this time more certain, more desperate. and when you do, you see something soften in his eyes, like maybe, just maybe, he’s finally letting you in.
then, without warning, his mouth brushes your cheek. and you want so badly to reach up and pull him closer, you want him to kiss you. god, you want it so badly it feels like your chest is on fire.
and without thinking, you lean in, closing the small space between your faces. your lips brush his, as if asking for something more than the roughness of his thrusts. you want him to kiss you, to break through that invisible wall he’s built so carefully.
but the moment your lips meet his, he pulls back sharply, eyes wide and mocking, a cruel smirk twisting his mouth. “what the hell?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disbelief and amusement. “are you serious right now? i thought you knew we were just fucking. you thought i was your boyfriend?” he mocks you.
he’s still inside you, his hands gripping your hips as if to remind you who’s in control, but his tone is cold, sharp, degrading. the way he looks at you, like you’re some naive fool for expecting anything more than this raw, physical mess.
your lips part in silent shock, the sting of his words almost worse than the sudden withdrawal of his warmth. your body trembles, caught between the want to pull him back and the shame that knots in your chest. he’s right, isn’t he? this is just sex. nothing more.
you don't say anything, not even when he stays inside you, still using your body like nothing just happened, like you didn’t try to kiss him, like you didn’t embarrass yourself in the most humiliating way possible.
you let him finish.
you keep your eyes shut and your jaw tight, nodding numbly through the last few degrading words he spits. and when it’s over, you dress quickly, quietly. you don’t look at him. you don’t let yourself cry until you’re already out of his sight.
and after that, you stop answering.
you ignore his messages. you switch seats in the library. you walk the other way when you see him coming down the hallway. you leave him on read. you don’t even let yourself look at him, no matter how much your chest tightens every time you hear his voice. you pretend he doesn’t exist.
and at first, he doesn’t seem to care. he’s always been cold, indifferent. you tell yourself it’s nothing. he’ll find someone else to bother. he probably already has. maybe it’s better this way.
but a week goes by, and you can feel the shift.
he’s off. the smug, lazy confidence he always carries is gone. not completely. of course, he’s still sunghoon, still handsome and untouchable and a little cruel, but he’s… tense. short-tempered. eyes flicking to you in class like he’s daring you to meet them. leaning back in his chair like he doesn’t care, but tapping his pen like it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping.
he doesn’t understand what happened, why you stopped letting him fuck you, why you’re not melting under his words like before. why you won't even look at him. he doesn’t ask, not directly. he’d never lower himself to that.
but you feel it every time he shifts behind you. every time you catch him staring at you. every time he mutters your name and you don’t turn around.
he’s going crazy, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.
you, on the other hand, are just trying to feel like yourself again.
the shame still sits heavy in your chest, and some nights it creeps into your dreams, that moment where you leaned in, where he pulled away like you disgusted him. but it’s quieter now. it doesn’t hurt that much, it’s like a bruise already starting to fade.
so you keep ignoring him. and he keeps unraveling. and both of you pretend it doesn’t matter.
but it does.
badly.
it’s friday again. you hurriedly walk down the hallway, it’s your last class of the week and you can’t wait for it to be over. to not have sunghoon’s presence near you.
you slip into the classroom, eyes scanning for yunjin first — but she’s nowhere to be found. your breath stutters, and you look to jake’s usual seat.
empty.
you stomach twists. “not again…” you whisper.
you don’t even think. you cross the room fast, heart in your throat, voice low and almost shaking as you reach your teacher’s desk.
“sorry,” you say, breathless. “is there any way i could… maybe join another group instead?”
she looks at the room. “but mr. park is also—“
“i-i know he’s not paired either, but we’ve already worked together and sunghoon is—”
you catch the mistake the moment it slips from your mouth. you shouldn’t have said his name. you shouldn’t have looked up.
but it’s too late.
you feel his eyes on you, burning from across the room. when you glance, just briefly, you see him sitting with one arm slung lazily over the back of his chair, gaze fixed on you like he’s trying to figure out whether to laugh or rip the desk in half.
he heard you.
he heard everything.
and he’s pissed.
not just irritated, it’s not the usual smirk, not the cocky eye-roll, but jaw tight, knuckles clenched, tongue pressed hard against the inside of his cheek. like your rejection, your plea not to sit beside him, cracked something in him wide open.
but the teacher hums distractedly and waves her hand toward the front of the class. “sure, sure. go sit with jay and taehyun today.”
you thank her quietly and turn without looking back.
sunghoon doesn’t say a word, but you know he’s fuming.
the bell rings, sharp and sudden. your heart hammers in your chest as you gather your things, eager to escape before sunghoon can corner you.
you run out of the class. you slip past the rows, weaving through the crowd with quick steps. but just as you reach the exit door, a rough hand clamps down on your wrist. you don’t have to turn around to know it’s sunghoon, of course it’s him.
before you can pull away, he yanks you backwards and pushes you into the nearest empty classroom. the door slams shut behind you with a solid thud that echoes in the small space.
he closes the distance between you fast, cornering you against the door. both hands are pressed at the sides of your head, his chest heaving, eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something you can’t quite name.
“why the hell are you ignoring me?” his voice is low, rough.
he’s mad. really mad. but he’s not yelling, not mocking you. it’s something else, like he’s barely holding himself together.
“you’re acting like i’m some fucking stranger,” he says, voice shaking just a little. “like none of this means anything. you don’t get to just disappear.”
you can see the tension in his fingers, the way his shoulders are tight, like he’s holding back everything he wants to say.
“you don’t answer my messages, you don’t even look at me.” he growls, eyes snapping back to you. “this silence is fucking killing me.”
the air between you thickens, heavy with everything left unsaid.
he takes a step back. “what the fuck did i do?” he spits, voice rough, shaking with frustration. “i don’t get it. i’m not your boyfriend, i don’t owe you shit. so why the hell are you making me feel like this? like i’m losing my fucking mind over you?”
his hands slam down on the desk, rattling the wood. his eyes burn into yours, dark.
“i’m mad, yeah. mad because i fucking want you, and you’re pretending i don’t exist. like you don’t want me at all.” his voice drops lower, rougher, rawer. “but goddamn, i can’t fucking stand it.”
he steps closer, chest nearly touching yours, breath hot and uneven. his fingers curl around your wrist, tight enough to leave marks but not enough to hurt. his grip is possessive, demanding, like he’s claiming you.
“do you even know what you’re doing to me?” his voice cracks just a little, like the anger is barely holding back something more dangerous. his eyes burn into yours, but there’s not a trace of the usual mocking, just pure, burning frustration.
he drags you closer, until there’s no space left between your bodies, his chest rising and falling against yours in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your own heart.
“you’re driving me fucking insane,” he growls, voice rough and ragged, “and i don’t understand why you’re doing this. ignoring me like i’m some stranger, like i don’t exist.” his breath fans over your skin. “i’m not used to feeling like this,” he admits, voice dropping to a rough whisper that’s almost too vulnerable for him. “mad, desperate, like i need you more than i need air.”
he tilts his head, searching your face like he’s trying to find an answer buried deep inside you, a reason for the cold silence, for the way you pull away without saying why.
“i’m not going to let you shut me out,” he says, voice hardening again, “not when everything you do it’s fucking killing me.”
his hands slide from your wrist to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he loosens his hold. “so stop pretending you don’t want this too. because i know you want me.”
his eyes darken. for a moment, the fierce edge of his anger softens, almost as if he was shutting the wall he’s built around himself.
“tell me,” he breathes, voice rough and low, “just say something. anything.”
without waiting for an answer, without giving you time to pull away, his face drops closer to yours, his breath warm against your skin. his lips hover just inches from yours. and then, he presses his mouth to yours. it’s not soft, just a fierce, desperate kiss that speaks of all the confusion and want tangled up inside him.
his hands tighten on your waist, holding you close as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away the second he lets go. the kiss is rough, urgent, like he’s trying to pour all his frustration and need into that one moment, needing to know if you’re there with him.
when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, breaths mingling, eyes searching yours for any sign of what you’re feeling.
“please, angel, please…” he whispers.
for a second, you stay frozen.
sunghoon is begging. begging for you. you finally look into his eyes, your breaths mingling. you stay there for some time, just looking at each other. you try to gather your thoughts, to decide whether if this is correct or not.
but it’s sunghoon, sunghoon who is desperate for you. and you’re so weak when it comes to him.
without thinking, your lips part, and you lean in, closing the last fraction of space between you.
your kiss is fierce, wild, everything you’ve been holding back crashing forward at once. your hands dig into his hair, pulling him closer as his lips move urgently against yours. the kiss full of anger, frustration, need.
he groans into your mouth, one hand slipping from your waist to cradle the back of your neck, his grip fierce but desperate, like he’s finally got what he’s been chasing. your bodies press together, heat rising between you as the world fades away
the second his tongue slips past your lips, everything inside you ignites. his hand tightens on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, crushing you against him. your fingers thread through his hair, tugging him deeper into the kiss, desperate for more, wanting to lose yourself. his breath hitches, low and ragged, as his hips press harder against yours, the unmistakable hardness on his pants being even more obvious.
his hands slide lower, exploring the curve of your back, tracing your hips with a rough, claiming touch. every movement is possessive, filled with that maddening mix of desperation and control, and you ache for it. every brush of his skin, every bruising grip making you tremble.
you break apart just enough to gasp, his name barely a whisper on your lips, and he responds by crushing you into him again.
“fuck,” he mutters, voice thick with need, “i’ve been dying to do this. to have you like this.”
his breath is hot against your jaw as his hands wander higher, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, palms pressing hard against your bare skin. the rough touch of his fingers sends shivers down your spine, he grips you tightly, fingers digging in possessively.
his mouth trails down your neck, biting and sucking with fierce hunger, leaving a trail of small hickeys. you arch into him, the ache between your legs growing unbearable as his hands explore the curves of your body.
your hands slide beneath his shirt, tracing the muscles of his back, desperate to feel every inch of him. he pulls away, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it to the floor. your fingers clutch at his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips, in desperate, gasping kisses. his mouth is rough and demanding, tongue slipping inside, tasting you, claiming you with an urgent need that matches your own.
he grinds against you, his hard length pressing insistently between your thighs. you let out a moan, your body aching for more. his hands roam lower, teasing the sensitive skin just above your waistband.
“tell me you want me, please,” he growls against your lips, his voice low, “say it, or else i’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”
you gasp against his mouth, voice trembling but fierce, “i want you.” your hands tighten in his hair, pulling him closer as the heat between you grows. “i’ve wanted you from the start.”
his eyes darken with hunger, lips curling into a wicked smirk before he suddenly dips his head, leaving your mouth with a trail of kisses down your jaw, neck, until he reaches the sensitive skin just below your ear. his breath fans hot as he murmurs, “good girl.”
without warning, his mouth moves lower, teasing your collarbone, then glides down over your chest. his fingers are quick to unbutton your shirt, brushing your skin, exploring, while his tongue flicks against your pulse point, slow and deliberate, making you shiver. you arch into him, biting back a moan as his lips find the sensitive skin beneath your bra.
“fuck,” he growls, voice thick with need, “you’re so fucking pretty, angel.”
his mouth leaves a trail of kisses down your torso, and before you can catch your breath, his lips part to tease the bare skin at the waistband of your pants, making you moan. he chuckles below you, kissing your hip before sliding your pants and panties down in one swift motion. you hear him groan as he spreads your thighs, finding your dripping cunt.
he looks at you before moving, looking for a sign of discomfort in your face, a sign that you don’t want him. but when you moan as he licks his lips, he takes it as a confirmation. he wastes no time, his tongue slips inside your folds, licking slow circles that make your knees weaken. his hands grip your hips firmly, holding you steady while his mouth claims you.
you bite your lip, eyes closed, letting out soft, shaky moans that only urge him deeper. his tongue moves with a fierce determination, exploring every sensitive inch with a skillful precision that makes your body shudder. the warmth and wetness, the slow, deliberate flicks and strokes, it’s like he’s memorizing you, learning exactly how to drive you wild.
your hands thread into his hair, pulling him closer as your hips instinctively push down against his mouth, desperate for more. as his tongue flicks your clit your breath hitches, and you can’t hold back the ragged moans spilling out.
“f-fuck, sunghoon,” you gasp, voice thick with need, “don’t stop.”
he hums, three low sound vibrating against your skin before he quickens the pace, his tongue darting expertly, teasing, flicking, pressing just right to make your body tremble. every touch sends sparks through your veins, building a heat that threatens to consume you whole.
his hands tighten on your hips, grounding you even as your world spins. “you’re mine,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough but soft all at once, “only mine.” you nod desperately as you moan even louder.
it takes him just a few more licks for you to cum all over his mouth, a loud cry leaving your lips.
you’re still gasping, skin flushed and slick with sweat, as sunghoon kisses your stomach, his mouth still tasting you. your thighs tremble slightly. it should be perfect — finally, he kissed you, finally, he’s touching you like he wants you, not just your body.
but something inside you is already unraveling again.
his voice is rough when he speaks, low and satisfied. “are you gonna ignore me again after this?”
you freeze. he’s still between your legs, still licking softly at the sensitive skin of your hip, but your whole body tenses at the question. you don’t answer. you can’t.
sunghoon sits up slowly, running a hand through his hair. his eyes trail lazily up your body like he’s memorizing the mess he made, but then he sees your face, the way your mouth is parted, your eyes somewhere else entirely — and his smile falters.
“…what?”
you blink, forcing yourself look at him. your shirt is open, your body exposed, but somehow you feel more vulnerable than naked.
you don’t know how to explain it. how to tell him that you want more than this. that the kiss was good — god, it was so good — but it wasn’t enough. because you’ve tasted the softness beneath his cruelty, and you want it again. you want all of him, not just his mouth or his hands or the way he ruins you against desks and walls.
you want the sunghoon who looked at you like you mattered. like you hurt him when you started evading him.
you wrap your arms around your chest, shielding yourself. you hesitate. the words sit heavy in your mouth. you want to ask, was it just sex again? will you kiss me after this? do you even care that i stopped talking to you, or are you just pissed because you lost your control over me? “i just…” your voice breaks before you can finish.
his brows furrow. “you just what?”
“i don’t want to be the only one who cares.”
the words hang between you like smoke, fragile and heavy.
sunghoon blinks, like he didn’t hear you right. “what the hell does that mean?”
you laugh, a bittersweet feeling on your chest, and shake your head. “of course you don’t get it.”
his jaw clenches. “no. say it.”
you look up at him, eyes burning. “you act like i’m just… a thing to you. a body. something to fuck whenever you feel like it. and then you lose your mind when i pull away, like i’m the one being unfair.”
he stares at you, face unreadable. “i never said you were a thing.”
“you didn’t have to,” you whisper. “you made it pretty clear.”
his silence is loud, too loud, and you hate how fast the tears rise. you blink them back, but one slips free anyway. you wipe it away before he can see.
he notices, his expression shifts.
he meets your eyes for half a second. “listen, i… i’m not good at this shit.”
your chest aches. “so what is this to you, then?”
he’s silent again. and that silence answers your question before he ever can.
you nod, pressing your lips together. “okay, great.”
“no, don’t do that,” he says sharply, stepping forward. “don’t shut down now.”
“why not?” your voice rises, unsteady. “you can’t say what you want. you won’t tell me what this is, what this means to you. and i’m just supposed to keep letting you use me like i don’t feel anything?”
he recoils slightly. like your words landed harder than he expected.
you shake your head, tears stinging now. “i liked you. i like you. even when you’re mean, even when you laugh at me, even when you’re cold. and i hate myself for it.”
“you think i don’t care about this? about you?” he asks, slowly, like the words are foreign in his mouth.
you exhale shakily. “i know you don’t. you only kissed me because you were mad. because you didn’t like that i was ignoring you. it wasn’t because you—”
“stop,” he says, harshly. “just… stop.”
he steps back, running a hand down his face like he’s trying to scrape the feelings off. then he walks to the side, dragging a hand along the edge of the desk, pacing like he’s trying not to explode.
“i don’t know how to do this,” he says finally, voice low. “i’ve never—fuck.” he looks at you. “you think i don’t care, but the second you stopped looking at me, it felt like i was going insane, it fucked with my head.”
your breath catches.
“i was angry because you weren’t there,” he goes on, jaw tight. “i was angry because i thought you were done with me, and i didn’t know why.”
you look at him. “so why didn’t you just say something?”
“because it’s easier to pretend i don’t care,” he says quietly. “it’s easier to pretend it’s just sex than to admit you’ve been in my head since the first time i looked into your eyes.”
your heart stutters.
he walks back toward you slowly, stopping just in front of you. his fingers brush your cheek, soft this time, unsure.
“i don’t know what the fuck this is,” he admits. “but i don’t want to lose it.”
you blink up at him, lip trembling. “sunghoon…”
he leans down, this time gentle, and presses his forehead to yours. his eyes close.
“i don’t know how to do this right. but i don’t want you to ignore me again. i don’t want to go back to not having you.”
your lip trembles.
he takes a deep breath. “i kissed you because i wanted to, but because i couldn’t not. because i was going crazy needing to feel something from you that wasn’t distance.”
you close your eyes too. your arms slowly lower, unfolding from around yourself. your fingers find his skin.
“i just want to stop feeling like i’m the only one falling.” you whisper.
a pause.
“you’re not.”
you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
you stay there like that — foreheads pressed together, his hands finally soft against your waist, your bodies close.
and for the first time, it feels like maybe this isn’t just sex.
Sunghoon is a full-time fuckboy with a habit of never staying until the morning. You’re not into casual. Not into games. Not into the way he looks at you like you’re next. And yet, something about him sticks. Something behind the smirk, the flirting, the pretty face. You swore you'd never fall for a guy like him.
But then again…never say never.
✴︎ 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: fuckboy!sunghoon x hook-up culture hater!reader
fluff, slow-ish burn but not really tbh, trust issues, sunghoon is a b-boy, reader likes photography and hates hook-ups, soft smut, weak in the knees, he looks at you like you’re worth everything, sensual intimacy... I am bad at this
✴︎ 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: themes of hookup culture, emotional vulnerability, light angst, reader struggles with trust/intimacy, smut (minors dni)
10.8k words
You’re sitting on a kitchen counter, legs swinging, drink in hand, detached from the mess of bodies around you. The music’s too loud, the lights too low, and the air smells like cheap beer and desperation.
Small town house parties are always the same.
Predictable. Repetitive. Pathetic.
You’re not drunk, not even tipsy. Just observant. Detached. Watching the night unravel around you. Trying to pass time until your friend’s done pretending this place has something new to offer.
Then you notice him.
Park. Fucking. Sunghoon.
The local fuckboy with a reputation thicker than the scent of cologne trailing behind him. He’s all lazy smirks and sinful stares, the kind of boy who knows he’s wanted, and acts like the world owes him something for it.
Girls notice him. Of course they do. Their eyes flick to him like moths to an expensive flame.
His hair’s a little too perfect, that jacket too clean for a night like this. He makes eye contact with three of the girls on his way across the room. All of them smile. None of them hold his attention.
Until he sees you.
You sit on the counter like it’s the only place in the room that isn’t spinning. Not drinking to blur the night. Not trying to be seen. Just… occupying space.
You’re wearing black. Always black. Not because you’re trying to be edgy, but because it doesn’t stain, and it makes people assume you’re colder than you are. Which helps. People leave you alone when they can’t quite figure out if you’re worth the effort.
Your lip gloss is half-faded, and you’ve reapplied it twice with the tiny mirror in your phone, only because you like the way it catches the light when you talk. You’ve got that look in your eyes — one part bored, one part dangerous. Not in a loud way. Not in a “who’s that girl?” kind of way. More like background static. A presence.
And Sunghoon is intrigued by that.
You’ve already said no to two guys. One of them slurred something about your legs, and the other asked if you were “waiting for someone.” You told him you were waiting for the earth to split open and swallow this whole place.
You weren’t joking.
Sunghoon looks at you like you’ve interrupted something inside him. Like he wasn’t planning to notice you, and now he can’t stop. He lingers near the edge of the kitchen for a moment, half-listening to whatever some girl’s saying, before peeling away like her voice just turned to a quiet hum.
He walks like someone who never rushes. Someone who knows the room bends for him whether he tries or not.
And now he’s right in front of you.
“Well, don’t you look comfortable,” he says, voice full of honey-laced mischief. “You always sit up there?” he asks, head tilted like he’s genuinely curious.
You sip your drink. “Only when I don’t feel like talking to people.”
He grins at that. “Too bad. I’m Sunghoon.”
You raise a brow. “I know who you are.”
“And yet,” he says smoothly, “you’re not impressed.”
“Not even a little.”
He leans in, mouth closer now, like he’s used to his smile doing half the work for him. “Then tell me what would impress you.”
You set your drink down and tilt your head, smiling sweetly. Almost sympathetically.
“If you’re talking to me just to get your dick sucked,” you say, “you should look somewhere else.”
His smirk falters for a beat, like he wasn’t expecting you to cut to the chase. You let the silence hang, watching the flicker of ego rearrange behind his eyes.
“There’s plenty of girls here who’d gladly drop to their knees for you,” you add, swinging one leg slowly back and forth. “You shouldn’t waste your time on me.”
Sunghoon recovers fast, smile curving back into place like he enjoys the challenge.
“What if I want you on your knees?”
You don’t flinch. Don’t laugh. You just lean forward until your mouth is barely an inch from his ear. Your breath brushes his skin, and you swear you feel him tense.
“You’d have to deserve it first.”
Then you pull back, like you didn’t just light a fire in him and hop off the counter, boots hitting the floor with a satisfying thud, and walk past him without a second glance. Just as your best friend rounds the corner from the hallway, fresh from the bathroom, eyes searching the crowd for you.
But he follows and you feel his presence before you hear his voice.
“Wait—” Sunghoon calls out, weaving through people until he’s at your side again. “Hey, at least give me your number.”
You glance up at him, a smirk tugging at your mouth despite yourself. Life is a little too boring for you these days, maybe toying with him a bit could make things more interesting. His expression is less cocky now. More curious. Like he doesn’t quite know what the hell just happened, but he wants to.
To put it simply, he isn’t used to rejection.
You hand him your phone wordlessly. He types something in, presses ‘call’ so you’ll have his too, and gives it back with a grin that’s more genuine than you expected.
As you slide it into your back pocket and continue walking, your very drunk best friend nudges you with her elbow, brow raised.
“Who was that?” she asks.
You don’t look back.
“No one,” you say. “For now.”
Sunghoon watches the swing of your hair vanish between strangers and basslines, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like he didn’t get what he wanted. At least not right away.
Which is… irritating.
Because he didn’t come here to get rejected.
He came to this party for the usual: a warm body, a messy kiss, something quick and meaningless to pass the time. That’s the game. That’s what people like him do.
Approach. Flirt. Fuck. Never speak again.
But then there was you.
Sitting on the bar like a dare. Eyes glazed with disinterest. Lip gloss smudged. You didn’t look at him like he was something you wanted. And that should’ve been enough to make him walk away. He should’ve let it go. Find someone easier. Someone already halfway in love with the idea of him.
But no. You gave him nothing, and now he wants everything.
You weren’t supposed to say no. You weren’t supposed to smile like you saw straight through him. You weren’t supposed to hand him your number and then walk away uninterested, like it didn’t cost you a single breath.
Now he’s standing there with your number in his phone, your voice still in his ear, and all he can think about is how you didn’t laugh when he said he wanted you on your knees. You just leaned in and whispered something that flipped the entire room on its head.
You’d have to deserve it first.
Fuck.
He wishes he could just fuck you and forget it. Quick and easy. Something physical to burn through and leave behind. But you’re not that kind of flame.
You’re the slow kind.
The kind that leaves marks.
And the worst part? He likes it.
There’s a challenge in you he didn’t expect. A power in the way you don’t try to be wanted. You’re not throwing glances. You’re not performing. You’re just there, sharp and solid and untouchable.
And now you’re stuck in his head.
So he does something he’s never had to do before: he texts you first.
You take your time getting ready.
Not because you’re nervous. Not because you care. But because if you’re going to waste your night on a fuckboy, you might as well look like the kind of girl a fuckboy loses sleep over.
Your room’s quiet, save for the occasional buzz of your phone…another text from Sunghoon, probably. He’s sent three since this morning. One said, “still on for tonight?” The second was a TikTok he clearly thought was funny enough to share (it wasn’t). The latest? A picture of his car parked in your driveway with the caption: “I’m outside. Try not to fall in love or whatever.”
You rolled your eyes so hard you gave yourself a headache. You know exactly what this is.
Park Sunghoon isn’t subtle. He didn’t text you because he wants to “get to know you.” He’s not suddenly into conversation or complicated girls who don’t melt at his smile and laugh at his jokes. He texted because you didn’t play the game. Because you made it clear he’d have to try if he wants you moaning his name.
And men love a challenge, don’t they?
Especially if their ego is on the line.
That’s what makes this fun. He’s trying so hard for a mere one-night stand. And you? You haven’t even started properly toying with him.
You’re not going on this date because you’re interested. You’re going because you’re bored. Because toying with a man like Sunghoon, who’s used to girls bending over backwards for a one-word text and a half-hearted grin, sounds like a fun way to spend your Friday.
Let him think he’s winning, just long enough to keep him coming back. And when he’s invested enough to stop pretending it’s all casual, you’ll remind him that you never planned on giving him anything at all.
This is going to be fun.
By the time you open the door, you’re in your boots, jacket slung over one shoulder, keys in hand, and zero intention of pretending you’re excited. He stands up from leaning against his car like he’s in some teen drama, all smirks and practiced charm.
“Well, don't you look beautiful,” he says and hands you a bouquet of lilies.
You give him a once-over. “Thanks, the flowers are pretty.”
He chuckles. “Figured it was the bare minimum.”
“How rare. A man aware of what that means.”
He opens the passenger door for you, and you slide in without a word. The flowers sit in your lap, an unexpected prop in whatever performance he’s trying to put on tonight. You don’t hate it. But you don’t fall for it either.
The car smells like a cologne sample someone rubbed on a credit card bill. Clean, expensive, trying too hard. He gets in on the driver’s side. Glances at you, then at the road.
“You didn’t text back.”
“Didn't feel like it.”
A beat of silence.
“You’re not like other girls, huh?”
You blink once. Then scoff, full-bodied and shameless, turning your head to stare at him like he’s just insulted your entire bloodline.
“Don’t ever say that again.”
He laughs, genuinely this time, even if a little nervous at your outburst. “Right. Okay. Got it.”
The drive is quiet for a moment, save for the playlist he queued up. Something chill. Something he probably played for every other girl he thought he had to vibe with.
“You know,” he says eventually, “you never told me your name.”
“Didn’t think you needed it. You seemed more interested in what I’d look like in your backseat.” You shrug as the car pulls into the parking lot of some half-decent diner. Neon signs. Flickering lights. A place people go when they’re too tired to cook or too young to care about ambiance. He parks, cuts the engine, and looks over.
He sputters. “That’s not…okay, fair.”
You smile to yourself. This is already better than expected.
He steps out first, rushes to your side, and opens your door like he’s got something to prove. You raise an eyebrow as you get out. “Chivalry?” you murmur. “Cute.”
Inside, the diner hums with low conversation and clinking silverware. The waitress barely glances up as she hands you menus and leads you to a booth tucked in the back. There's dim lighting, cracked leather seats, and just enough privacy to pretend this is something more than it is.
Sunghoon slides into the seat across from you, stretches his legs like he owns the space between you, and rests his elbow on the edge of the table.
“You really don’t want to be here, do you?”
You look up from the menu. “Not particularly.”
He huffs out a laugh, leans back. “Then why’d you come?”
You tap a manicured nail against the tabletop. “I was bored.”
“Boredom,” he repeats. “Harsh.”
“Honest.” You don’t soften the blow. You don’t apologize.
He flips the menu shut. “Alright then, honesty for honesty. You caught my attention that night. Like actually caught it. That doesn’t happen.”
You raise a brow. “How tragic for you.”
“Okay, damn.” He laughs. “You’re not gonna let me have one sincere moment?”
“Maybe. If it’s a good one.”
You sip your drink when it arrives. He does too. There’s a pause between you, not awkward, just heavy with whatever this is turning into.
And then, because you feel like it, you lean back in your seat and finally say it. Low and slow. Like giving him your name is an offering, not a courtesy.
“It’s Y/N.”
His eyes flicker. “Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s trying it out on his tongue. “Pretty.”
You hold his gaze. “Don’t ruin it.”
He smiles. But it’s not that cocky grin from the party. It’s quieter. More real. The kind of smile someone gives when they don’t know they’re doing it. And for just a moment, you feel it. That flicker in your chest. That tiny, traitorous skip in your pulse. You crush it immediately.
The plates hit the table with a muted clink. Greasy diner food. Something deep-fried. Something Sunghoon didn’t even look at the name of before ordering. You’re too busy watching the way the window beside you stains his skin in washed-out blue and buzzing pink, like a painting someone left out in the rain.
He picks up a fry. Spins it between his fingers like he's stalling.
"So," he says after a beat, “you don’t do small talk.”
“Only with people I’m trying to impress.” You say as you pop a cherry into your mouth from your drink. It crunches between your teeth.
“Alright. No small talk. Big talk, then.”
You raise an eyebrow, chewing slowly.
“Big talk?”
“Yeah. Like… the kind that changes the mood, for better or worse.”
You snort softly. “Was there a mood?”
“Not yet,” he says, mouth twitching. “But I’m working on it.”
There’s a small pause. He breaks first.
“I dance,” he says, eyes still on the table. “Breakdancing, mostly. I’m in a crew. We battle.”
That catches you off guard. You glance at him. “Like… actual dance battles?”
“Yeah,” he nods, like this is the part where most people either tune out or mock him. “Underground stuff. There’s a warehouse in Hongdae that we use to host dance battles occasionally. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”
You take another sip of your drink. Let the silence stretch before answering.
“That’s kind of sick.”
He meets your gaze, surprised. “Yeah?”
You nod. “You don’t seem like the type to care about anything enough to practice it.”
That earns you a laugh, a real one. Soft. Eyes crinkling. “Okay, harsh. But fair,” he says, grinning, but then he sobers a little. “I’ve got a younger sister. She’s eight. I show her videos from the battles. She thinks I’m famous or something, it's super cute.”
That makes you pause. You hadn’t expected softness from him. Not this kind. Not this early.
“What’s her name?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
“Yeji,” he says, voice quieter now. “She paints flowers on my sneakers when I’m not looking.”
You smile. And this time, it’s not calculated.
There’s a lull. Not awkward. Just… gentle. Like a breeze passing through the booth. The sound of silverware, of soft pop songs from the speakers above, of the world going on without noticing that something strange and delicate is blooming between two strangers under neon lights.
He nods at you, finally.
“Your turn.”
You raise a brow. “For what?”
“Big talk.”
You hesitate. Then wipe your hands on a napkin and lean back into the cracked leather.
“I’m starting college after summer ends,” you say. “Communications major. Media and stuff.”
He nods. “You excited?”
You stare at him. Then softly answer, “I’m terrified.”
He doesn't smile at that. Doesn’t laugh. Just let it sit there like he knows how heavy it is to admit something like that out loud. “Good,” he says eventually. “Means you give a shit.”
“I also do photography,” you say suddenly, like it slipped out by accident.
He tilts his head. “Yeah?”
You nod, eyes tracing the condensation sliding down your glass. “Started when I was fifteen. Took my mom’s old camera one day and never really put it down.”
“What do you shoot?”
You hesitate. Then answer like it’s a secret. “People. Usually strangers and their movement. Or hands. I like hands… they tell you everything,” you say. “Nervous tics. Calluses. Scars.”
He nods, quiet for once. “That’s cool. I get that, actually.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You get the hand thing?”
“I mean… I get watching movement. Reading people without them noticing. It's kind of the same with dancing,” he says, scratching the back of his neck like he’s just now realizing it. “When I’m battling, I don’t just move, I watch. How someone shifts their weight. How they breathe before a drop. Trying to predict their moves. It’s all there, even in their hands.”
You blink, a little surprised. Not by what he said, but by the fact that he said it at all. That he said it like it meant something. A small silence curls between you, not awkward, just heavy with mutual understanding.
He gestures toward your drink with a flick of his fingers. “So do you just carry your camera everywhere like a spy? Or are you gonna show me one of these mysterious hand photos?”
You smirk. “It’s in my bag.”
You reach down and pull it out; it's nothing too fancy, just a camera that’s clearly lived a life. Paint on the strap. A sticker half-peeled off the bottom. Dings, dents, charms.
He whistles low, impressed. “This thing’s got stories.”
“So do the people in it,” you say. Then, without warning, you lift the camera and snap a picture of him mid-sip, his eyes wide with surprise, a little drip of water sliding down his chin.
“Hey!” he coughs, setting his glass down. “Rude,” he laughs, then points a dramatic finger at you. “I've got a crazy good idea, next battle you’re coming with me. I want you to photograph me spinning on my head, looking like a tornado.”
You arch a brow. “Big words for someone who just got caught mid-sip looking like a confused turtle.”
“I have layers,” he says, grinning. “Besides, I think it'd be cool. You… behind the lens. The crowd in motion. My crew on the dance floor. Just thinking about it makes me excited.”
You pause. Not because you don’t want to go. But because, somehow, in the middle of teasing and you trying to act nonchalant… that felt real. Like an invitation that meant something.
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at your camera. “That could be nice.”
He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice quieter now. “You ever show your photos to anyone?” You shrug at that. “Sometimes. Online, mostly. But not really the ones that matter.”
His brow furrows. “Why not?”
“Because those are the ones that feel like me,” you say, barely above a whisper. “And people don’t always know what to do with that.”
Sunghoon doesn’t say anything for a beat. Then he finally breaks the silence, “I’d get it. If you ever wanted to show me.”
You glance up, caught off-guard again. He’s not smirking this time. No teasing. Just looking at you like you’re not some game to figure out, but something already worth knowing. Is this all a scheme of his to get you naked? It doesn't feel like it is.
And you hate that your heart stumbles for it.
So you lift the camera again and snap another photo, catching him with his chin resting in one hand, eyes soft and steady.
“What now?” he asks.
You smile, just a little. “That one’s for me.”
The drive back is quiet in that way late-night rides sometimes are—comfortable, laced with half-thoughts and glances that last too long. The radio hums with something lo-fi and low-effort, the kind of music meant to fill the space without asking too many questions. City lights blur past in streaks, all neon pinks and golds, casting moving shadows across the interior of the car. Sunghoon drums his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. You pretend not to notice when he glances at you during red lights.
“So,” he says eventually, voice breaking the silence like it’s a bubble. “Was I... tolerable company tonight?”
You stretch in your seat, turning toward the window with a deliberately long sigh. “You didn’t talk with your mouth full. Or take a selfie mid-meal. So yeah, I’ve survived worse.”
He chuckles, low and genuine. “Wow. High praise.”
“Don’t let it get to your head,” you murmur. “That thing’s already struggling for space.”
He gives you a mock-wounded look before returning his focus to the road, a lopsided smile still tugging at his lips. Outside, the city starts to thin. Fewer cars. Quieter streets. The kind of quiet that almost feels private. And then there it is, your street, familiar and dim under the yellow haze of tired streetlamps.
He pulls into your driveway like he’s done it before. Like it’s already a routine. The engine cuts, leaving only the clicking of the cooling hood and your shallow breaths in the stillness. Neither of you moves for a second.
“Do I get a rating? Like out of ten?” he starts again, voice softer now.
You pretend to think. “Five. But I added points for the lilies.”
“Five?” he echoes, hand pressed dramatically to his chest. “This is the worst review I’ve ever received.”
“You’ll survive.” You reach for the door handle. He beats you to it.
You watch, vaguely amused, as he jogs around the car and opens your door like this is prom night. You step out slowly, eyes still on him, one brow raised.
“Chivalry again?” you ask, dry.
He shrugs, hands in his pockets again. “Get used to it.”
The walk to your front step is a few feet, but feels longer with the weight of unsaid things trailing behind you. You reach the door, keys already in hand, but he lingers, half a step closer than necessary. He’s looking at you the way people do when they’re working up to something. You can feel it before he says anything. The almost electric silence of someone about to act on a maybe.
“So…” he starts, leaning in just slightly, his lips getting dangerously close to yours. Not cocky this time. Not performative. Just… hopeful. Curious. You let him get close, just enough to think he might get away with it. And then you tilt your head at the last second, barely dodging his lips, and instead whisper near his ear, voice velvet-smooth:
“Good night, Sunghoon.”
You step back before he can recover, watching the flicker of surprise flash across his face. His lips part slightly, brows lifting just a touch. He laughs. It’s not loud, but it’s full-bodied. Like he wasn’t expecting it, but he’s not mad about it either.
“I should’ve known,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really aren’t gonna make this easy, are you?” You smile, faint and dangerous. “What would be the fun in that?”
“You like messing with me.” He watches you for a beat, eyes trailing from your mouth to your gaze like he’s trying to memorize something he shouldn’t want this badly.
You turn the key in the lock, glancing at him over your shoulder.
“You're figuring that out just now?”
A pause. His smirk deepens, sharp at the corners but softer underneath.
“See you at the dance battle then?”
You nod once, pulling the door open just enough to slip inside. “You better win,” you say, not even looking back. “I’ll be watching.” And then the door clicks shut, leaving him on your porch, hands in his pockets, smirking at the wood grain like he’s just been played and loved every second of it.
The smell hits first: concrete, sweat, smoke, and adrenaline. The floor’s already alive when you get there. There’s no “door.” Just a guy on the stairs who eyes your camera and gives you a nod when you flash the printed flyer. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. The music’s already doing enough of the talking.
The battle’s set in a cavernous underground parking garage, fluorescent lights flickering overhead like they’re on their last breath. Concrete walls are sprayed with layers of graffiti – colorful tags, sprawling murals, sharp symbols screaming of a thousand nights like this one. Every inch hums with grit and possibility, like the whole place is waiting to catch someone mid-air.
Inside, the crowd’s tight, hungry. Hoodies and snapbacks. Pretty girls in cargos and gold hoops. Crews clustered like wolfpacks around the taped-off cypher, all waiting for blood. The floor space is roughly duct-taped off, even though everyone knows the rules: no pushing in, no touching, and if you enter the circle, you better have something to show off.
Music pulses through the space, old-school breakbeats with heavy bass that thumps in your chest and seeps into your bones. The DJ’s scratching keeps everything tight, carving breaks sharp enough to slice through the tension.
A speaker thuds out a beat hard enough to shake your spine, and the crowd roars as two b-boys launch into a footwork exchange. Quick, sharp, controlled chaos. 6-steps, elbow freezes, and windmills turning to flares. One misstep and the circle eats you alive.
You stay on the edges, camera in hand. You’re not here to dance.
You’re here to watch him.
Sunghoon.
You spot him across the room instantly. Black joggers, scuffed at the hem, catching on the gritty floor. White tee under an oversized hoodie that sways with him, a quiet shout of street style against the raw backdrop. A bandana tied around his wrist. His crew stands nearby, dapping each other up, heads nodding to the beat. He hasn’t seen you yet.
Good.
You lift your camera and frame the shot, his profile lit by the glow of cheap LED strip lights, backlit by movement. You click once. Then again. Candid.
The DJ cuts the track mid-beat, and a ripple moves through the crowd like lightning. A new challenger steps into the circle.
"Next up," someone calls, "Echo versus Icey." A scream erupts
That’s him. Icey.
You didn’t realize it at first, but break dancers usually go by nicknames. It’s just how the culture works. Everyone has these sharp, catchy handles that stick way better than their real names. Makes sense when you think about it. When you’re spinning, flipping, and throwing down moves that look like they belong in a comic book, your given name just doesn’t cut it.
Take Sunghoon, for example. It’s like a secret identity, a persona that’s bigger than life on the floor. You wonder what your nickname would be if you ever stepped in.
Sunghoon makes his way towards the dance floor, and the crowd tightens.
You raise your camera again.
He doesn’t start big. Just a bounce. Head nod. A few toprock steps that look too casual to be serious — until he drops, spins into a windmill and snaps into a hollowback freeze so clean you hear people yelling from across the garage.
It’s flow. Pure flow. Controlled power. Every move connected, like his bones know where the music’s going before the DJ does. He battles like someone with something to prove, but nothing to lose. Like he doesn’t just want to win, he wants to be remembered.
And in the middle of a thread combo so tight it looks animated, he glances your way. Direct. Sharp. Then he finishes the set with an elbow freeze, legs up, chest forward, eyes still on you.
You click the shutter. Again. And again.
After the round, crews slap hands, people whistle, and the music doesn’t stop. The battle goes on. But you move around the space, framing him between silhouettes, graffiti, limbs in motion. You don’t notice when he disappears from the cypher. But you do feel him appear behind you.
“You get my good side?”
The voice is lower now. Sweaty. Slightly out of breath. You don’t turn around immediately.
“I don’t know,” you reply, adjusting your lens. “You blur a lot when you spin.”
He leans over your shoulder slightly, not touching, but close enough that you feel the heat radiating off him. “Let me see?”
You show him one photo. It’s mid-freeze, motion caught mid-breath, body held in defiance of gravity. But it’s not the move that makes it good, it’s the expression. Focused. Drenched in light and shadow. Alive.
Sunghoon whistles under his breath. “Damn.”
You glance at him sideways. “You impressed?”
He shrugs. “I mean... I look kind of hot.”
“You looked kind of unhinged. Like you were about to levitate.”
“Same thing,” he smirks. “On a serious note, it's really good. Like really, really good. I might even print it out.” That makes you blush a little. He continues, “My crew’s doing a block party tomorrow. Real open floor. Bring your camera. Could use someone with your eye.”
You raise a brow. “You just want free promo.” He grins wider. “Nah. I just like having you around.” You snort at that, “You’re lucky you’re good.”
He’s quiet for a second, “I meant it. You’ve got an eye. Come shoot us.”
You finally nod, and then you lift your camera again and say, “Smile.”
He flashes a peace sign, sticking his tongue out. You snap it.
Ugly. Dumb. A mess of a shot.
You love it instantly.
The battles go on, and you find yourself captivated.
Finally, Sunghoon’s name rings out over the speakers. First place. The crowd roars, but before the noise can swallow you whole, he’s already making his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with a grin that’s all kinds of dangerous and playful.
Before you can blink, he’s at your side and then, without warning, he scoops you up like you weigh nothing at all. Your laughter spills out, light and breathy, echoing against the concrete walls. His arms are strong and warm, steadying you as the world tilts a little in the best possible way.
“You’re heavy,” he teases, voice rough and low, but there’s something soft in the way he looks at you. You giggle again, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. “Lucky you’ve got muscles.”
He holds you a moment longer, like he’s savoring the space between battle and celebration, then pulls back just enough to grin down at you.
“Give me a sec,” he says, eyes flickering to the side. “Gotta do something.”
You watch as he steps away, the grin fading into something more serious. Across the circle, the second-place dancer stands, chest heaving, sweat slicked over his skin, eyes glazed with exhaustion and worry.
Sunghoon approaches, calm but purposeful. Without hesitation, he presses the prize money into the other guy’s hand. “For your mom,” he says quietly. The man blinks, shock rooting him in place. His voice cracks as he tries to speak. “I… I can’t. This is your prize.”
Sunghoon shrugs, eyes steady, voice soft. “I heard she’s in the hospital. Needs it more.”
For a moment, the world stills. The man’s fingers close slowly over the cash, gratitude and disbelief mingling in his expression. “Thank you,” he breathes, voice thick with emotion. Sunghoon just nods and turns back toward you, a small, almost shy smile pulling at his lips.
You stand there, heart pounding, the camera forgotten in your hand, watching the quiet strength behind his gesture. When he reaches you again, you look up into his eyes and say, “That was… very kind of you.”
Sunghoon’s gaze softens. “This whole thing is not just about winning. It’s about what you stand for.” You swallow at that, heart tightening with something you can’t quite name. The noise of the crowd fades, replaced by the steady thrum of your own breath and the sudden heat of his presence beside you.
He squeezes your hand gently, just for a second, before stepping back to the circle. The moment feels charged, like a secret passed between two people who don’t need to say more. You lift your camera slowly, capturing a shot of him looking out over the crowd, victorious.
“Come on,” he says with a grin, voice teasing but warm. “Dance with me?”
You blink, caught off guard by the invitation, a spark of something electric igniting under your skin. The crowd’s roar fades again, this time replaced by the pulse of the beat you can still hear in your chest. Your fingers tighten around the camera, hesitant but curious.
“Dance with you?” you echo, voice a little breathless.
He nods, stepping closer, his eyes bright with challenge and something softer, a silent promise that this moment is just for the two of you.
The circle clears, or maybe it just feels that way. He offers his hand, steady and warm, and you take it, letting him pull you into the middle of the cypher. The music swells again, bass thumping through the concrete like a heartbeat.
You don’t know many moves, you’re not a dancer, but Sunghoon’s rhythm wraps around you, guiding, coaxing. His laughter is low and contagious, and soon you find yourself moving, swaying, caught in the simplicity of the moment.
For a few minutes, it’s just the two of you: the music, the flash of his grin, your breath mingling in the air between you. No prizes, no crowds, no expectations. Just this fragile, perfect thread of connection.
When the song ends, he pulls you close, resting his forehead lightly against yours.
“You got moves,” he says with a teasing smile. You laugh softly, heart still racing. “Only with the right partner.” He holds your gaze, the world shrinking down to just the two of you.
“Stay with me tonight?” he asks quietly.
And in that moment, you want to say yes. You want to dive into this wild, reckless pull he’s got on you. But the voice inside your head won’t let you. If you go with him, if you have sex with him, it whispers, he’ll leave. Mission accomplished. Just like that, gone. And then what? You swallow hard, feeling the weight of that truth settle like a stone in your chest.
He was supposed to be just a fuckboy. Someone to toy with, to keep at arm’s length. To make him think he can get what he wants, and then shove him away. Nothing more. But every time he shows you a new side, softer, realer, it pulls you closer than you planned.
Still, you shake your head softly, trying to steady yourself. You’re scared. Scared that if you let him in, if you cross that line, he’ll disappear like smoke through your fingers, leaving you alone in the dark.
“I can’t,” you whisper, voice barely audible between the fading beats. “Not tonight.”
Sunghoon’s eyes search yours, and for a moment, you swear you see something like understanding there. Maybe even patience. You step back, wrapping your arms around yourself, trying to convince your heart to listen to your head. Because some things, no matter how tempting, aren’t safe to chase, not yet.
Sunghoon looks at you, eyes steady and patient. “I get it,” he says softly, voice rough but sincere. “No pressure.”
He holds out his hand. “Want to get out of here? Go for a walk. Clear the noise?”
You hesitate only a second before slipping your hand into his. His fingers are warm, grounding. Outside, the street feels quieter, cooler. You walk side by side, the air crisp and different from the stale heat inside. The pavement is cracked, the streetlights flickering overhead. Sunghoon glances at you. “Sometimes I think this whole thing, the music, the battles, the crowds… It’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. But then other times... it feels like a cage I can’t break out of.”
You glance over, surprised at his honesty. “I get that. Sometimes the things we want the most feel like they trap us.” He nods slowly at that. “Walking in the streets at night is the only time I really feel free. The quiet gives me space to breathe. To just be.”
You glance at him, and for a moment, just a heartbeat, you let yourself look. Really look.
Sunghoon’s profile is lit by the amber glow of a streetlamp overhead, soft golden light brushing against the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the little crease between his brows he gets when he’s deep in thought. His hoodie’s pulled half-up, messy strands of hair brushing his forehead, damp from the heat of the battle. His lips are parted slightly, like he’s still catching his breath from dancing.
And for a second, framed by flickering neon and the gentle hush of the street, he looks unreal. Like something pulled from a dream. Or a memory you haven’t made yet.
There’s a pause, the city’s hum filling the silence. You take a breath, feeling the words bubbling up. “I don’t usually talk about this, but… I’ve had some bad experiences with guys.”
Sunghoon looks at you, curious but patient.
“Not like… abusive or anything,” you say quickly, “just a few bad one-night stands. Thought it’d be simple. No strings. But it turned messy. Most lied to me afterward. Made me feel cheap. Used. So I don’t do that anymore.” Sunghoon listens quietly, not rushing you. “After that, I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone get close, not like that, not easily. It’s safer.”
Sunghoon’s expression softens. “I do that,” he continues quietly. “I'm that guy. The one who says all the right things, gets close just enough to get what he wants, and then ghosts before morning. Sometimes I didn’t even wait for the sun to come up. I hate myself for it.”
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head at himself. “At first, it felt easy. Like I had control. Keep it light, no strings, no expectations. I told myself I was doing them a favor. Being clear, keeping it casual. But I wasn’t. Not really. Most of the time, I was just scared.”
You don’t speak, but your eyes are on him now, your feet matching his step.
“I didn’t want to connect,” he admits. “Didn’t want anyone to see the parts of me I didn’t like. So I made sure it was always temporary. Quick. Clean. Forgettable.”
He finally looks at you, and his gaze is raw in a way you’ve never seen before. “But the thing is… after a while, it stops feeling good. All that surface-level shit. The adrenaline wears off, and you start to realize you’re just… empty. Like you gave away pieces of yourself for nothing. Took pieces from others. And it hits you.”
He stops walking. You do too.
“I don’t want that anymore.”
The silence stretches between you. It’s not awkward, it’s heavy. Real.
“I don’t want to be that guy to you,” he says, softer now. “Even if that’s all I’ve ever been to other people. I don’t want you to feel cheap, or used, or scared to trust. I just… I like you. Not just how you look. I like how you laugh, or how you see things through your camera lens. I like who you are when you’re not trying to hide.”
Your throat tightens, and he must see it, because he steps just a little closer, enough to make you feel his warmth again.
“I don’t want to push you,” he adds. “If you say no, I’ll respect it. Every time. But I hope someday you’ll trust me enough to say yes. Not to sex. To something real. To us.”
You blink hard, suddenly aware of the way your heart is pounding.
“Damn,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “You’re really not helping my ‘fuckboy’ theory here.”
That earns a small laugh from him, quiet and a little rueful. “I’m trying to retire from the title.” You smile at that, even as your chest aches. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” you say honestly.
“I’m not asking you to be,” he replies, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m just asking you to stay. Walk with me. Let me earn it.”
And somehow, in that quiet pocket of night, beneath flickering city lights, with concrete beneath your feet and his hand brushing yours, it feels like maybe, just maybe… you could.
Your room is quiet, save for the soft hum of your laptop and the occasional creak of the old radiator. The city outside murmurs in distant sounds. Cars, the bark of a dog, laughter spilling from a street below, but up here, everything feels far away. Like the world paused somewhere between memory and longing.
You sit cross-legged on your bed, hoodie wrapped around your frame, the faint scent of smoke and sweat still clinging to your clothes from earlier. Your camera sits beside you, the memory card already slotted into your laptop. Folders open. Images load.
And there he is.
Sunghoon.
Captured frame by frame. Candid moments frozen in digital time. You scroll slowly, each photo tugging at something you can’t quite name. In one, he’s mid-spin, hair wild, body blurred in motion, untamed, electric. In another, he’s upside down in a freeze, perfectly still, perfectly impossible.
Then a close-up, taken when he wasn’t looking. His eyes half-lidded from exertion, lips parted, the edge of a smile caught like a secret only you were meant to see.
You stare at that one longer than you mean to.
He’s beautiful. Not in the polished, curated way people try to be. But in the way light hits him. Raw, unfiltered, honest. Like the city sculpted him from noise and rhythm and let him loose just to see what would happen.
Your fingers hesitate over the trackpad. He was supposed to be a game. A joke. A distraction from your own chaos. You were going to toy with him. Let him think he had a chance, and then walk away first. Clean. Simple. Safe.
But then he laughed with you. Pulled you into a dance you didn’t think you’d ever say yes to. Gave away his prize money without blinking. Told you the truth like it cost him something. And now here you are, knees curled to your chest, staring at pictures of a boy who was never supposed to matter.
You press a knuckle to your lips, trying to quiet the noise in your head. You can still hear his voice "I don’t want to be that guy to you." You remember the way he said it. Careful. Sincere.
A little afraid.
What if he meant it? What if you let yourself believe that someone like him, who's made his share of mistakes, who’s been guarded and reckless and selfish, could actually want to be better... with you?
Your heart flips, traitorously.
But the fear rises again just as fast. You’ve let someone in before. Let them close, let them kiss you like they meant it, only to realize you were just a story they didn’t bother finishing. You’ve woken up in someone else’s sheets and felt like you left pieces of yourself behind that you couldn’t get back.
And Sunghoon… he’s dangerous in a different way. Not because he lies. But because he tells the truth too well. And truths can hurt more than lies when they fall apart.
Still…your eyes drift back to the photo, him grinning mid-freeze, looking like he belongs to the night and the light and nothing in between.
You save it in a new folder.
You name it Maybe.
On the other side of the town, Sunghoon can’t sleep.
He’s lying on his back in the dark, one arm slung over his eyes, hoodie still on, the city still humming somewhere outside his cracked window. His body’s tired, aching in the best ways from the battle, the dance, the high of it all, but his mind’s wired. Flickering like a dying streetlight. Loud with thoughts he doesn’t know how to silence.
You.
You, in the crowd with that camera, eyes sharp and curious, catching him like he was something worth framing. You, laughing against his chest, the sound so light it knocked the wind out of him. You, stepping back when he asked you to stay. Soft “I can’t” slicing through his chest sharper than he expected.
He gets it. God, he does. And that’s what hurts more.
Sunghoon shifts, pushing up to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers combing through his damp hair. The room smells like detergent and old incense. He’s surrounded by shadows, and still, your voice echoes in his head like you’re right beside him.
"Most lied to me afterward. Made me feel cheap. Used."
He swears under his breath. The guilt, sudden and sharp, creeps in like a draft under the door. He’s done it too. Been that guy. The kind who made girls feel wanted just long enough to get what he wanted. Told himself it was mutual. That it was fun. That no one got hurt if no one caught feelings.
Lies.
He thinks about one girl who used to play with the strings of his hoodie when they kissed. Another who left a poem in his notes app. Another whose number he still has, unread texts gathering dust. He thinks about how he never stayed. How he never meant to.
Because staying meant vulnerability. And vulnerability meant risk. Real connection always did. But with you… You scare him in a way he didn’t think possible. The way you see him, like you’re not impressed by the moves or the cocky smiles, like you’re waiting for him to drop the act, makes him feel both exposed and alive. Like he’s not performing anymore. Like maybe, just maybe, he could be himself.
He leans his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
“I don’t want to be that guy to you,” he whispered earlier. He meant every word.
You don’t know how much it took to say that. How hard it is to unlearn being guarded. But he’s trying. He wants to try for you. He remembers the way you looked at him when you declined his offer. Not cold. Not distant. Just… scared. Like the walls you’ve built are the only thing keeping you upright. And he doesn’t want to knock them down. He wants to be patient enough to wait on the other side.
He gets up, walking to the window, hands shoved into his pockets. Down on the street, two bikes coast past under the dim glow of a streetlamp. Quiet. Brief. Free.
Sunghoon presses his forehead against the glass and exhales.
He doesn’t know what this is yet, not really. But he knows he wants it. Wants you. Not for one night. Not for the thrill. But for the way you looked at him after the battle. Like he was worth something beyond his pretty face.
He hopes you come to the block party tomorrow. He hopes you keep taking pictures. He hopes you don’t give up on him before he gets the chance to prove he’s not who he used to be. And for the first time in a long time, he’s not thinking about who else he could be with, or what girl’s DMs he hasn’t opened yet. He’s just thinking about you.
Just you.
The smell of grilled skewers and burnt rubber hits first.
The block’s been taken over, tape strung between poles, speakers stacked like towers, lights strung from rooftops to trees like fireflies caught in wire. It’s dusk, the sky bruised purple and orange, and the music’s already thumping loud enough to make your ribcage vibrate.
You clutch your camera tighter as you step into the heart of it.
Crews are scattered in clusters, bouncing in place to the beat, trading handshakes and half-practiced footwork. Kids on scooters weave between legs. Someone’s spray painting the side of a truck. Girls are dancing on the curb, laughing with slushies in their hands, and the whole thing feels alive, wild and beautiful, and chaotic in the best way.
You scan the crowd for him.
You don't want to admit it, but your stomach's been tight ever since last night. Since the walk. Since the way he looked at you like he didn’t want to be the version of himself you'd imagined. Since you saw a version of himself he probably never showed anyone.
And now you’re here.
Because some part of you wants to believe that maybe people can change. That maybe this thing, whatever it is, deserves more than just a line drawn in fear.
You catch him before he sees you, again.
Sunghoon’s standing near the speakers, hoodie half-zipped, a New York Yankees cap on his head. He’s laughing at something a crew member said, head tilted back, gold chain catching the light. And for a moment, you don’t move. You just watch. Because framed by the pulsing streetlights and dusk falling in slow strokes across his cheekbones, he looks... devastating. Effortless. But not in a calculated way. Like the kind of person the city makes poems about. The kind of boy that breaks hearts and doesn’t mean to. And yours aches. Just a little.
Then his eyes find you.
Everything slows. His smile shifts, less wild now, more real. Something flickers in his expression, like he wasn’t sure if you’d come, like your presence just changed the whole weight of the evening.
He jogs toward you, weaving through the crowd. “You made it.”
You nod, adjusting the strap on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good,” he says, voice low, more relieved than cocky. “We’re warming up. Wanna shoot from the roof?”
Your brows lift. “There’s roof access?”
He grins, already leading the way. “There’s always roof access if you’re dumb enough.”
You follow him up a metal staircase that groans under your weight, past open windows spilling music and sweat and city air. When you hit the roof, the entire block unfurls below you, people spinning in the street, painted vans, cables humming with strung-up lights.
You lift your camera, framing it all.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
You glance at him. “Yeah. Just... nervous.”
Sunghoon leans against the railing, watching the dancers. “Me too.”
You tilt your head. “You? Nervous?”
His lips twist into a wry smile. “About you.”
Silence sits between you. Thick, warm, honest.
“You scare me a little,” he admits. “You make me want to stop pretending.”
You lower the camera slowly.
“I think I’ve done a lot of pretending,” he continues, eyes on the street. “Pretending I don’t care. That no one else does either. That all this…” he gestures at the party, the dancing, the chaos “...is just noise.”
“But it’s not,” you say quietly. “No,” he breathes. “It’s not. And you, you're not. You see me. And I don’t think I’m used to that.”
You swallow the lump in your throat. The camera is still in your hand, but your fingers aren’t steady anymore.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he says. “I’ve hurt girls before. Not because I hated them. Just because I didn’t know how to stay. Didn’t want anyone to see the shit I was trying to outrun. But I don’t want to lie to you. Not even by omission. I’ve been a fuckboy. I’ve ghosted. Lied. Said things I didn’t mean just to feel wanted for a minute.”
You blink, surprised at the rawness.
“I didn’t expect this,” he says. “Didn’t expect you. And I don’t deserve your trust yet, I know that. But if you let me, I’ll earn it. Bit by bit. Even if you never say yes. I still want to be someone worth staying for.”
You stare at him a long moment, wind tugging at your sleeves, music thudding up from below like a second heartbeat. And finally, you lift the camera.
Click.
Sunghoon blinks. “Did you just take a picture?”
You smile softly. “Yeah. Had to catch the moment.”
He exhales a laugh, but it’s soft around the edges. Hopeful. “Do I look tortured and tragic?”
You glance at the preview. “You look real.”
As those words leave your mouth, the music pulses louder and the block party really kicks off. People spill into the streets and alleys, laughter and shouting weaving through the warm night air. Lights strung between buildings cast a carnival glow, and the scent of grilled food and spilled drinks fills everything.
You find yourself pulled into the flow, the beat catching under your skin. Before you know it, Sunghoon’s hand is at your waist, guiding you. The song is slow, romantic. He pulls you close, fingers curling gently around your back, and you rest your hands lightly on his shoulders. Your bodies move in quiet rhythm, slow and effortless, as if the whole city paused just for this.
You smile, heart quickening. “I like this.”
He tilts your chin up, eyes searching yours in the soft light. “I like you.”
You lean in, the space between you shrinking until it vanishes. His lips meet yours softly at first, almost hesitant—like he’s testing the waters. Then the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more certain, as if he’s been holding back all this time, waiting for this moment. Your breath mingles, hearts racing in sync beneath the glow of the city lights. His hand cradles your cheek gently while the other rests at your waist, pulling you closer. Time seems to stretch and blur, the world around you fading until there’s only the warmth of his mouth and the steady thrum of your heart beating.
When you pull back just slightly, your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling.
“Stay with me,” he whispers.
You nod, feeling like maybe this time, you just might.
The two of you stand hand in hand on the rooftop, the warm glow of the block party spilling up in waves beneath you. From this height, the crowd looks like a moving sea of colors and lights, people laughing, dancing, shouting, living. The scent of grilled food drifts up, mixing with the faint coolness of the evening air. Sunghoon leans close, his voice low. “Crazy how something so chaotic can feel… kind of perfect, huh?”
You nod, eyes tracing the tangled web of string lights and pulsing speakers. “Yeah. Like the whole city is alive tonight.”
He shifts closer, hand brushing against yours. “Wish moments like this could last.”
“Maybe they can,” you say quietly.
He smiles, and the city feels a little less loud, a little more yours. The music shifts, the beat quickening. “Come on,” he says suddenly, tugging you down the stairs. The party swirls back to life around you. Laughter, shouting, the pulsing bass, people everywhere, lost in the moment.
He weaves through the crowd with ease, and soon you’re introduced to his crew. Ni-ki, with his sharp smile and easy confidence, Heeseung, calm and steady, and Jake, who’s already handing you a plate piled with grilled skewers.
“Food always tastes better at a party,” Jake says, winking.
You nibble your skewer as Sunghoon leans close. “Ready for round two?” You nod, eyes catching his under the string lights. “Lead the way.”
He takes your hand, pulling you close. This time the dance is lighter, freer. Laughs escaping you both as you spin, move, and find the rhythm together. The cool breeze tousles your hair, and when your eyes meet, the world feels still.
Then, as if drawn by some unspoken magnetism, your lips meet again. Longer, deeper, filled with all the moments you’ve been holding back. The city fades, the music dims, and all that exists is the two of you, tangled in the night.
The party eventually winds down. The music fades into a distant hum, and the crowd thins, laughter turning into quiet goodbyes. You and Sunghoon find yourselves back on the rooftop, wrapped in the calm after the storm.
He pulls you close, the city still glowing faintly beneath you. His voice is soft, almost vulnerable. “I don’t want this night to end,” he admits, fingers tracing your jaw gently. “I just want to spend every second with you, all of it.”
You meet his gaze, heart fluttering in the quiet morning light.
“Then don’t let it end,” you whisper.
Without another word, he leads you to his car and drives both of you to his apartment. There's no one. Just the two of you. The streets are mostly empty now, painted in the amber hush of early morning, and neither of you says much. There’s something reverent about the silence. Something sacred.
His apartment is dimly lit, clean but lived-in. A hoodie draped over a chair, speakers stacked near the wall, a cracked mug on the counter. It smells like clean linen and something faintly earthy, like cedarwood and mint. Like him.
You stand by the window, looking out at the city, still catching your breath from everything the night had been. Sunghoon walks over slowly, stopping just behind you.
“Still okay?” he asks gently, not touching you yet.
You nod, but your arms stay folded across your chest. “I’m just…” you trail off. “Nervous.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then, “Because of before?”
You glance up at him, and the look in your eyes is answer enough. He exhales slowly. “You don’t have to do anything, Y/N. You know that, right?”
“I know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “But… I want to. I just don’t want to feel like I did back then. Like I’m being discarded.”
Sunghoon gently reaches for your hand, giving you every opportunity to pull away. When you don’t, he interlaces his fingers with yours. “I’m not leaving,” he says. “And you’re not a maybe to me. Not a moment. Not something I’ll ever pretend didn’t happen.”
You meet his eyes. He’s watching you like you’re the only thing that matters. Like the party, the city, the rooftop kiss, none of it compared to now.
“I just want you,” he continues, his voice low, honest. “But only if you want me too. No pretending. No pressure.” Your chest tightens at his words, soft and full and aching all at once.
“I want you, too,” you say.
He leans in slowly, giving you time. When his lips touch yours, it’s careful. Tender. Like a promise sealed in warmth. The rest happens in slow motion. His touch is patient, never rushing, never demanding. It's exploring, learning, and worshipping in the smallest ways. Fingertips over ribs. Lips on your shoulder. Whispered words that you feel more than hear.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs
When he’s finally above you, the space between your bodies gone, he pauses.
“Still okay?”
You nod, breath trembling. “Yes.”
And this time, when he moves, it feels different than anything you’ve known before. Less like being claimed, more like being seen. More like a soft surrender than a loss. Like trust, like healing, like the beginning of something that scares you in the best possible way.
He kisses you again, his lips moving slowly, deliberately, tracing the path from your mouth to your collarbone. The air between you hums with quiet urgency, but he doesn’t rush. His hands, warm and steady, slide along your waist, fingers spreading to map the shape of your hips like he’s memorizing them by touch alone. He takes off your shirt and your bra as his mouth dips lower, breath grazing your chest as he lingers there, almost breathless.
When his lips close around your nipple, it’s not just desire, it’s devotion. He teases gently, tongue flicking in slow, measured circles, then draws it into his mouth with a low hum that vibrates straight through you. A small sound slips from your throat, and your back arches instinctively, pulling him closer. Your hands run along the muscles of his back, slipping under his shirt, and when he takes it off, your palms find his skin. Warm. Solid. Real.
You don't realize you're trembling until he kisses you again, slower this time, his hands stroking your sides in calming rhythms. It feels like he’s grounding you, anchoring you to something steady. Something safe. “Is this okay?” he murmurs, voice low and almost hoarse.
You nod. “Yes. I just…” The words tangle in your throat, soft with uncertainty. “I don’t want this to be a one-night thing.”
Sunghoon stills for a moment, then leans in and brushes his nose against yours. “It’s not,” he says. “It won’t be. I want all of you. Over and over again. Every day, in every light.”
And there’s something in the way he says it, not just lust but need, aching and honest, that makes your heart ache in return. He kisses you again, deeper now, more sure, and when his body presses against yours fully, you feel it. Not just the strength, the warmth, the barely restrained hunger, but more than that. The care. The weight of someone who’s choosing you with intention. With hope and love.
Clothes fall away slowly, piece by piece – his jeans pushed down, your panties hooked off with careful fingers. Every touch is unhurried, a question offered and answered with soft nods, with the way your bodies lean into each other like magnets finding their pull.
When he lowers himself between your legs, it’s with the kind of attention that steals the air from your lungs. His touch is patient and precise. Not performing, not taking, but offering. Learning what makes your breath catch, what makes your thighs tense, what makes your hands grip the sheets. He listens. Responds. Adjusts. And when your fingers clutch his and your body arches, he doesn’t stop, he stays with you, holding you through the waves until you’re gasping his name.
He comes back to you slowly, kissing your cheek, your shoulder, the hollow at your throat. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers again. “Every part of you. Every sound you make.”
You pull him into another kiss, messier this time, needier, your body flushed and open beneath him. And when he finally enters into you, slowly and carefully, there’s a stillness that settles between you. A hush. Like the world has narrowed down to just this. Your breath in his mouth, the trembling of his hands as they cradle your face, the way your hips tilt to meet his like you’ve always known how.
He moves gently, each thrust a question, each gasp of yours an answer. There’s no distance now. No room for fear, no room for the walls you once guarded so carefully. Only skin. Heat. The shared rhythm of two people choosing to be seen.
You moan his name like it’s sacred. He moans yours like it’s a prayer.
Time bends. The world blurs. The build-up is slow and inevitable, like tides pulling you under. And when the high finally hits, it’s not sharp. It’s soft. Blooming. It ripples through your body like light, like warmth, and Sunghoon doesn’t let go. He stays with you, wrapped around you, whispering sweet nothings against your skin, even as his own body trembles above you.
After, neither of you speaks for a long moment. You lie tangled together, your heartbeat still racing, your skin dewy with sweat. His chest rises and falls against yours, his fingers tracing slow circles along your spine.
“You feeling okay?” he murmurs against your temple.
You nod, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah. Better than okay.”
He pulls you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies, his warmth seeping into you like a slow-burning fire. His lips find yours again, soft yet urgent. Every kiss is a promise, every touch a confession. You let yourself fall into the moment completely, unguarded and safe. The outside world disappears, leaving only the steady rhythm of two hearts learning to beat as one.
“I want to be with you,” he whispers, voice rough with feeling. You smile, a warmth blooming inside that no words can quite capture. “I want that, too.”
And in that quiet, fragile space, the future feels wide open, waiting just for the two of you.
Yay, another fanfic! This one feels deeply personal to me, as I relate to Y/N a little too much here. I’m, surprisingly(?), a big hater of hookup culture. Oh, and I also dated a breakdancer, lol. Hope you liked it! If you want to get a feel for the dance battles, I highly recommend looking them up on YouTube. My favourite one is this one, because I've met Kriss myself many times, and even used to take his classes.
──── ✦ enemies to lovers (?), angst, riki is rich and annoying, eventual smut, tension, slowburn
You could smell him before you saw him.
That stupid cologne—woodsy, expensive, overpowering—and the faint, unmistakable haze of weed trailing behind it. You didn’t even bother looking up from your notes when he dropped into the empty seat beside you, the metal legs of the chair dragging obnoxiously against the floor like he wanted everyone to know he’d arrived.
“You busy?” came that lazy, low drawl.
You sighed. “What do you want, Riki?”
He smirked like he always did. Too confident. Too pretty. Too used to the world handing him everything.
“I forgot the history paper’s due tomorrow,” he said, leaning his elbow on the desk, turning to face you. “Be a sweetheart and send me yours?”
You finally looked up. He was wearing sunglasses. In class. And a leather jacket like this was some kind of movie and not 10 a.m. on a Tuesday. His dark hair was a little messy, like he’d just rolled out of someone else’s bed. There was a red mark on his neck. A love bite, probably. Gross.
You blinked at him. “No.”
“No?” He blinked back, mock offended. “No one says no to me.”
You returned to your notes. “Maybe that’s your problem.”
He whistled low under his breath, then leaned in closer. Too close. His knee brushed yours under the desk and you stiffened, refusing to move.
“You’re so mean to me,” he murmured. “Makes me wonder what you’d sound like if you weren’t.”
You clenched your jaw. “If you’re done harassing me, I have an actual education to focus on.”
He chuckled. “You sound like my dad.”
You turned to him, lips curled. “Your dad’s the one paying off professors to pass you, right?”
That wiped the smirk off his face—only for a second. Then he was grinning again, like you’d just impressed him.
“Damn,” he said. “You really hate me, huh?”
“I don’t care enough to hate you.”
That was a lie. You did care. Because everything about him infuriated you. The way he laughed too loud at parties. The way he always had some new girl draped around him like jewelry. The way he wore his privilege like a crown. And the way, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, he always noticed you.
“I saw you at Sunghoon’s party last week,” he said suddenly, tapping his fingers on the desk like he was bored. “You looked good.”
You didn’t answer.
He leaned in again, whispering, “Were you looking for me?”
You turned your head slowly, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “I was looking for a lighter. Didn’t expect to see the joint already lit and talking.”
Riki stared at you for a second, then let out a sharp laugh, slumping back in his chair like you’d just knocked the wind out of him.
“You’re unreal,” he said, shaking his head. “Like, actually unreal.”
You gathered your books. The bell was about to ring.
He watched you, tilting his head, tapping his pen against his bottom lip.
“You sure you don’t wanna spend a little more time with me?” he asked again, voice low.
You looked at him one last time.
“I’d rather die.”
The bell rang. You walked away.
And behind you, Nishimura Riki smiled.
Like he’d just found his next favorite game.
“I’m telling you,” Riki said, dragging smoke from his joint and exhaling out the window, “she’s obsessed with me.”
Jungwon laughed so hard he choked on his drink. “Bro. She literally called you a ‘talking joint.’ I was there. I heard it. She hates you.”
Riki just smiled, slouching back on the couch like he hadn’t just been insulted in front of half the class two days ago.
“She doesn’t hate me,” he said, smug. “She’s just in denial. They all fall eventually.”
“Yeah,” Jay muttered, flipping a poker chip between his fingers, “except she hasn’t. And it’s been, what? A year? You’ve tried everything. Compliments. Group projects. DMs. And she’s still not interested.”
“She left you on read last month,” Sunghoon added. “That’s cold, even for her.”
Riki rolled his eyes. “She was probably busy.”
“She was online,” Jungwon said, grinning. “Watching cat videos.”
Riki sat up, annoyed now. “Why are you all so invested in this?”
“Because it’s funny,” Jay said. “You get girls without trying. But this one? She has standards.”
Riki scoffed, standing to grab another drink from the mini bar. His house was massive—of course it was. High ceilings, glass everything, and the stench of wealth dripping from every marble countertop. The kind of house where people threw parties just to trash something pretty.
“She’s not better than me,” he muttered.
“No,” Sunghoon agreed. “But she acts like she is. And that makes her untouchable.”
Riki turned slowly. “Untouchable?”
Jay smirked. “She hasn’t even looked at you the way those other girls do. You’re not special to her.”
Riki didn’t say anything.
Jungwon leaned forward, the corners of his mouth curling. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
Jay raised a brow. “You wanna make it interesting?”
A pause.
“A bet,” Jungwon said. “You get her to fall for you.”
Sunghoon laughed. “Yeah, okay. Like that’ll happen.”
“No, listen—” Jay grinned. “Get her to like you. Like, really like you. Admit it. Kiss you. Sleep with you, maybe. Whatever. Just get her hooked.”
“And if I do?” Riki asked, sipping from his drink like he wasn’t already considering it.
“Then we all shut up forever,” Sunghoon said. “And we pay for your spring trip to Barcelona.”
Riki’s brow raised. “And if I lose?”
Jay grinned. “You post a full apology video. Shirtless. Hair down. Crying. Real tears.”
Riki laughed. “Fuck off.”
“No, come on,” Jungwon said. “You said she’s into you. Prove it. Win the bet.”
Riki exhaled slowly, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Your voice echoed in his head—
“I’d rather die.”
He grinned.
“Fine,” he said. “Bet.”
Somewhere across town, you were studying in your room with your laptop open, notes highlighted, textbooks stacked high. You didn’t know it yet, but a very stupid boy had just made a very stupid decision.
And he was coming for you next.
“Partners have been randomly assigned,” your teacher said, scrolling through the spreadsheet on the projector, completely oblivious to the silent panic spreading through the room.
You barely listened, already highlighting the first page of your assignment packet. You didn’t care who you were paired with. As long as they pulled their weight.
“—and last, Y/N and Nishimura Riki.”
Your highlighter froze mid-stroke.
No.
No no no no no—
Riki made a sound from the back of the room. A low whistle. And then, like he always did, he took his sweet time strolling over to you, dropping into the seat beside you with that infuriating smile.
“This fate thing,” he said, nudging your foot under the desk, “is really starting to feel like destiny.”
You stared ahead. “Don’t talk to me.”
“Aw, c’mon, princess,” he murmured. “We’ve got a whole research paper to write. Gotta be civil.”
“You don’t even go to class.”
“I’m here now.”
“You’re high.”
He grinned. “High-performing, maybe.”
You looked at him. He was in a hoodie this time, hood half over his head, a little bruised at the jaw like he’d gotten into a fight or kissed someone with too much teeth. His eyes were slightly red, but not in a sleepy way—in a too-much-weed-and-not-enough-water way.
God, you hated him.
“Fine,” you muttered. “We meet after school. Library. Three o’clock.”
He blinked. “The library?”
“Yes. The quiet place. Where people go to study. Not vape.”
He put a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”
“I hope so.”
3:00 PM.
You were already at the back corner table, laptop open, outline half-started, when he sauntered in ten minutes late with two iced coffees and not a single folder in sight.
“Iced vanilla,” he said, sliding one toward you. “No syrup, oat milk. That’s your order, right?”
You blinked.
He shrugged. “Saw you holding it once. I pay attention.”
“I didn’t ask for this.”
“You also didn’t say thank you.”
You took the drink. You didn’t thank him. He smirked anyway.
“Let’s just get this done,” you muttered, scrolling to the outline. “We can split the topics evenly—”
“Actually,” Riki interrupted, spinning his chair toward you, “how about we work together on each section?”
He held up both hands. “Okay, okay. Chill. I’m just trying to be a good partner.”
“You don’t know how to be a good partner. You don’t even know what this paper’s about.”
“It’s on post-war economic reconstruction.”
Your jaw tensed.
He smirked. “Told you I pay attention.”
You hated how smug he looked. How close he leaned. How his knee kept brushing yours like it was accidental.
He tilted his head. “You always this intense when you’re working?”
You ignored him.
“Bet you’re fun when you finally let go.”
You snapped your head up. “Bet you’re still a spoiled asshole when you shut up.”
He stared at you for a moment. Something flickered behind his eyes. Not just amusement—something closer to interest.
He leaned in a little. “You’re so hot when you hate me.”
“I’m always hot.”
He laughed. It was loud. Too loud for the library. A girl from the next table glared.
You shoved your chair back and stood up. “Come back when you’re serious.”
“Wait—”
“I’m not wasting time on a fake partner and a fake coffee.”
You walked away, bag slung over your shoulder, head high.
And behind you, Riki was still smiling.
Because for someone who claimed you weren’t playing the game—
You sure made it fun.
You expected him to flake.
After the mess that was your first study session—if you could even call it that—you assumed he’d go back to parties, girls, skipping class, and rolling joints behind the gym.
You did not expect him to show up the next day.
On time.
With a notebook.
And a bag of spicy chips that he wordlessly dropped in front of you.
You stared at the bag. Then at him.
“What’s this?”
“Peace offering.”
You frowned. “You think you can just buy my forgiveness with chips?”
He shrugged. “They’re your favorite.”
“…How do you know that?”
He leaned his chin into his palm, voice annoyingly casual.
“You always eat them during calc. Third period. Right after your quiz. You shake the crumbs into your mouth like a savage.”
You blinked.
“You’re stalking me now?”
“Just observant,” he said, tapping his pen against the table. “Can we work now, or do you wanna keep pretending you hate me?”
You did hate him. Didn’t you?
You opened your laptop and said nothing.
It kept happening.
Study sessions where he actually took notes.
Group chats where he actually replied.
Class presentations where he actually spoke and didn’t just lean back with a smug smile.
It was unnerving.
“Okay, what the hell is going on,” you finally said one day after school, slamming your binder shut as he bit into a banana muffin he brought “for brain fuel.”
Riki blinked at you, mouth full. “What?”
“This.” You motioned between you two. “You being nice. Helpful. Actually participating. What’s your angle?”
He swallowed, brushing crumbs off his lip with the back of his hand. “Damn. Can’t a guy just try?”
“No. Not you.”
He tilted his head. “Maybe I wanna change.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just sat back in his chair, watching you with that unreadable expression he only ever wore when he forgot to flirt. It made your stomach do a weird twist.
“Maybe I like spending time with you,” he said softly.
You scoffed. “No you don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t flirt back. Because I don’t fall for your dumb lines. Because I don’t let you copy my work.”
He smiled, a little sad now. “Maybe that’s why I do.”
You stared at him.
The library suddenly felt too quiet. Too small. Like the table between you wasn’t doing much to keep him out of your head.
He looked away first. Back down at the notes.
You cleared your throat. “Well. This part’s due Friday. Don’t mess it up.”
His voice was quieter than before. “I won’t.”
You didn’t know what this was anymore.
But you knew it was dangerous.
Because you didn’t hate him like you used to.
And he didn’t look at you like it was a game.
The school courtyard was loud—too many voices, music playing from someone’s speaker, and the metallic sound of soda cans cracking open. But all of it faded the moment Riki saw you.
You were laughing.
With Sunghoon.
Sunghoon stood way too close, one hand resting casually on the brick wall behind your head like this was some goddamn rom-com. You had your arms crossed, head tilted, eyes narrowed in a way that Riki knew meant you were annoyed—but not annoyed enough to leave.
And Sunghoon knew it too.
“Bro,” Jungwon muttered next to him, following his gaze. “Chill.”
“I’m not even doing anything,” Riki said, jaw tight.
“You’re literally crushing that Red Bull can with your bare hand.”
Riki forced himself to breathe.
He watched as Sunghoon leaned in, said something in your ear. You shoved his shoulder, and he laughed, obnoxious and loud.
Riki hated how his stomach twisted.
He started walking over before he could stop himself.
You saw him coming before you heard him—Riki, storming across the quad like a stormcloud in a hoodie, hair a little messy, lips pressed into a tight line.
Sunghoon grinned.
“Well,” he said under his breath, “look who’s about to explode.”
You glared at him. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Obviously.”
“Asshole.”
“Love you too.”
“Yo.” Riki stopped in front of you both, ignoring Sunghoon entirely. “Can I talk to you?”
You blinked. “I’m in the middle of—”
“Now.”
You looked at Sunghoon, who held up both hands in mock surrender, eyes gleaming. “Don’t let him cry, Y/N.”
You turned to Riki. “What is your problem?”
“What are you doing with him?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know I needed your permission to talk to someone.”
“You don’t,” he snapped. “Just not him.”
“Oh my god.” You turned to leave, but he grabbed your wrist—not hard, just enough to stop you.
“Let go.”
“Why him?” he asked, voice low now. Almost broken. “Out of everyone—why Sunghoon?”
You pulled your hand back. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Then act like it.”
You left without another word.
And Riki? He stood there, watching you walk away from him—again.
He hated it.
So that night?
He did something stupid.
You weren’t going to go to the party.
You had every intention of staying home, buried in essays and your hoodie. But Yoonchae sent a picture—
Riki. On the couch. With a girl in his lap.
So of course you went.
You shouldn’t have. But you did.
The house was too loud. You pushed through bodies, sweat and smoke and spilled beer sticking to your skin.
And there he was.
Nishimura Riki.
Hoodie off. White t-shirt clinging to his chest. A redhead straddling him, giggling into his neck, nails dragging across his shoulder as he smirked at something Jay said.
You froze in the doorway.
He didn’t see you yet.
Or maybe he did. And just didn’t care.
You turned to leave, something sharp clawing its way through your chest—
“Y/N?”
You stopped.
He was standing now. The girl still clinging to him. But he was looking at you.
Only you.
Your voice was flat. “You look busy.”
He flinched.
The redhead leaned in closer. “Riki, come on—”
He shook her off, stepping toward you. “It’s not what it looks like.”
You laughed. “You’re really gonna use that line?”
He looked like he wanted to say something else. Something real. But then you saw it—Sunghoon, standing by the kitchen, arms crossed, watching.
Riki looked too.
And then he made his choice.
He turned back to the girl, tugged her back onto the couch.
Didn’t say a word.
And you walked out.
Jealousy?
It wasn’t a game anymore.
It fucking hurt.
You avoided him all week.
Didn’t show up to the library. Didn’t reply in the group chat. Didn’t even glance in his direction during class.
If the professor mentioned “group partners,” you raised your hand and asked if you could switch.
He didn’t say anything when the professor said no.
He just sat there, staring at the back of your head like it might catch fire.
Friday. After school.
You stayed late to finish a lab report.
The hallway was quiet when you finally left, your backpack slung over one shoulder, earbuds in, head down.
You didn’t hear the footsteps until they were too close.
“Y/N.”
You froze.
Riki.
He was standing at the bottom of the stairwell, hoodie pulled over his head, hands in his pockets, eyes dark.
You tried to walk past him.
“Wait—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. “You’re mad at me.”
“No shit.”
“Why?”
You scoffed. “You’re joking, right?”
He shook his head. “You were talking to Sunghoon like you didn’t even know I existed.”
“Oh my god,” you laughed bitterly. “You were literally being felt up on a couch while I was in the room.”
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Right. Because why would I show up to a party full of fake friends and even faker boys.”
He flinched.
Silence.
The air between you was hot. Heavy. Tense in a way it hadn’t been before. This wasn’t teasing anymore.
This was real.
You stared at him. “What do you want from me, Riki?”
His voice cracked. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Is this part of your game? Make me fall for you? Win a bet with your loser friends?”
“No—”
“Then what? What do you want from me?”
He took a step closer.
And then another.
And another.
Until your back hit the wall behind you.
And he was standing so close you could feel the heat of him through your shirt.
You could smell him—faint cologne, laundry detergent, the ghost of a cigarette.
His voice was hoarse. Quiet. Broken.
“You hate me, right?”
You stared at him.
He looked desperate.
Like he wanted you to say yes.
So he could believe it.
So he could let you go.
You whispered, “So much.”
And then you kissed him.
Hard.
Like you meant it.
Like you’d been waiting months.
His hands found your waist like it was instinct, pulling you in, pressing you flush against him as he kissed you back like he couldn’t breathe without it.
It wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t gentle.
It was messy. Bruised. Real.
His mouth was hot, open, needy against yours. Your hands fisted in his hoodie. His tongue dragged across your bottom lip and you gasped—and he took advantage of it, groaning into your mouth like he was starving.
When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, your lips were swollen, and his hands were still on your waist like he couldn’t bring himself to let go.
You whispered, “Tell me this isn’t just a game.”
He stared at you.
Didn’t answer.
Didn’t say yes.
Didn’t say no.
And your heart cracked.
Because you knew.
And you kissed him again anyway.
You barely made it through the front door.
His hoodie was bunched in your fists, your lips on his before you even got your shoes off, stumbling into his house like gravity itself was pushing you together.
“Upstairs,” he breathed, kissing your jaw, your neck, his voice rough. “Please—upstairs—”
You didn’t answer.
Just grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the staircase like you were going to die if you didn’t touch him properly right now.
His bedroom was big, dark, stupidly expensive like the rest of the house—but you didn’t care.
The second the door shut, you shoved him back against it, kissing him like you hated him. Like you didn’t hate him. Like you didn’t know the difference anymore.
Riki groaned into your mouth, hands gripping your hips so tight it hurt.
“Fuck,” he whispered, breath ragged. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
You pulled his hoodie off.
Then his shirt.
He let you.
Let you stare.
Let you touch.
Let you make him fall apart with just your hands and mouth and teeth.
“You like this, huh?” you murmured against his throat. “You like being wanted?”
His breath hitched. “Only by you.”
You paused.
That made him flinch.
“I didn’t mean—” he tried, but you kissed him again before he could finish. Because maybe you didn’t want to hear what came after. Not yet.
The back of your knees hit the bed.
He pushed you down, climbing over you, breathing hard.
But he stopped.
Eyes flicking over your face.
His voice was quieter now. Fragile.
“You sure?”
You nodded. “Don’t make me beg.”
His mouth curved.
But his hands were careful.
He touched you like you were made of secrets, kissed you like he was trying to apologize for something he hadn’t said yet.
And when he finally pressed into you, slow and deep and desperate—he buried his face in your neck and groaned your name like it broke him.
You weren’t quiet either.
Couldn’t be.
Not with the way he moved.
Not with the way he whispered things like:
“You feel so good—fuck—so good…”
“Thought about this every night since the library…”
“Didn’t know I could want someone like this.”
You moaned into his shoulder, legs wrapped tight around his waist as he thrust into you, faster now, rougher, hands trembling where they held your thighs.
“Riki—” you gasped, nails digging into his back.
He groaned, desperate and breathless. “Say it again.”
“Riki.”
“Again.”
“Riki—please—”
He kissed you hard, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, deep enough to make your breath hitch, your back arch, your voice crack.
“You’re mine,” he whispered.
You nodded, dazed, dizzy. “Yeah.”
He kissed your jaw.
Then your mouth.
Then your neck.
“You don’t get it,” he panted. “You’re not like the others. You’re fucking worse. You’ve ruined me.”
And he meant it.
Because when you came—when he followed, moaning into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut like it hurt—
He didn’t stop holding you.
Even after.
Even when it got quiet.
Even when your breathing slowed and your voice broke on a whisper:
“Now what?”
He just held you tighter.
Didn’t have an answer.
Didn’t let go.
You woke up tangled in sheets that weren’t yours.
In a bed too soft, a room too quiet, with arms around you that still didn’t feel real.
Riki was still asleep. Bare chest rising and falling. His mouth was a little open. Messy hair. A faint bruise blooming on his neck from where you’d bitten him.
You stared at him.
At the boy who made you want things you didn’t know how to want.
And something inside you clenched.
This was stupid.
This was dangerous.
You started to sit up, needing space. Needing to think.
But Riki mumbled, still half-asleep. “Where are you going…”
You paused. “Home.”
His eyes opened, still hazy. “No.”
You raised an eyebrow. “No?”
He pulled you back into him, burying his face in your neck like a sulky puppy. “Stay.”
“I can’t.”
He kissed your collarbone. “Please.”
You were going to argue—really—but then his hand slid under the sheet again, warm and slow, and—
Yeah.
You stayed.
You were in his bathroom when you heard it.
He thought you were gone. Or still asleep.
His phone rang.
You wouldn’t have listened—really, you wouldn’t have—if it wasn’t on speaker.
Sunghoon’s voice.
“So? Did you finally win the bet?”
Everything stopped.
Your body went cold.
Riki laughed—laughed.
“Define win.”
Sunghoon whistled.
“No way. You actually slept with her?”
Silence.
Then—
“Shit, Riki. You actually caught feelings, didn’t you?”
You didn’t hear his answer.
You were already grabbing your stuff.
He caught you halfway down the stairs, shirt half on, hair a mess.
“Where are you going?”
You didn’t look at him. “Home.”
“Wait—what happened?”
You whirled around. “Seriously? You’re gonna pretend like you don’t know?”
His face paled. “Wait, no—just let me explain—”
You shoved him back. “A bet, Riki?”
He flinched.
“You used me. You made me feel—fuck.” Your voice cracked, hands shaking. “And I was stupid enough to believe it was real.”
“It was real!” he shouted. “It is—I swear—I didn’t mean—”
“What?” you snapped. “You didn’t mean to fall for the girl you were using? Didn’t mean to make it worse?”
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Because he couldn’t say anything that wouldn’t make it worse.
You blinked fast. Didn’t want to cry. Not in front of him.
But your voice broke anyway.
“I was the one person who didn’t fall for your bullshit. And now I’m just another girl you can laugh about.”
He reached for you.
You stepped back.
“Don’t.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please—don’t leave like this—”
But you were already walking away.
And he didn’t follow.
Not until the door shut.
Not until he was alone in the silence you left behind.
It had been a week.
One week since you walked out of Riki’s house.
One week since he stopped showing up to class.
One week since your phone blew up with texts you refused to read.
You deleted every one.
Except the last.
riki (2:31 a.m.)
i fucked up.
i miss you.
i swear i never meant for this to happen. not like this.
You stared at it sometimes. At that little “i miss you.”
It made your chest twist in ways you hated. Ways you couldn’t stop.
But you didn’t answer.
You couldn’t.
Because if you did—
You knew he’d ruin you again.
He showed up at school the next Monday.
Dark circles under his eyes. Hoodie pulled low over his face. Ignoring everyone.
Except you.
You felt it before you saw him.
That heat. That gravity. The air in the room bending.
You looked up.
He was already staring.
Eyes wide. Red. Like he hadn’t slept.
You looked away.
So he crossed the room.
“Can we talk?” His voice was hoarse.
You didn’t answer.
“Please.”
People were staring. You hated that.
So you stood up. “Fine.”
You walked down the hall, through the back doors, into the empty courtyard. He followed like a shadow.
When you turned around, he flinched like you’d slapped him.
“I know,” he said, before you could even speak. “I know I don’t deserve anything. Not your forgiveness. Not even this conversation. But—”
You didn’t let him finish.
“What was I to you, Riki?”
His lips parted.
“You want to talk? Talk. So talk. Was it just a game?”
“No.” His voice cracked. “Not after the first week.”
You scoffed.
“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer. “At first—yeah. It was ego. I was stupid. You were the one person who didn’t want me and it made me—fuck—I don’t know, obsessive.”
You stared.
“But then you smiled at me. You teased me. You saw me when no one else did. You made me want to be better. And I hated it. And I loved it. And I—”
“Riki—”
“I’m in love with you.”
Silence.
He stepped even closer. “I’m in love with you,” he repeated, voice lower, more broken. “I don’t know when it happened. Somewhere between your eye rolls and the way you looked at me like I wasn’t just some rich asshole.”
Your throat tightened.
“I tried to play it cool,” he whispered. “Tried to keep fucking around, pretending you didn’t matter, but you did. You ruined me for everyone else.”
You blinked fast. “You don’t get to say that. Not after what you did.”
“I know. I know.” He swallowed hard. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if I have to. That it wasn’t fake. That I meant it. That I still do.”
And then—
Softer.
“You can punch me. You can tell me to fuck off. Just don’t walk away again without knowing I’d do anything to make this right.”
You stared at him.
Really stared.
At the boy who used to be unbearable.
Cocky. Cold. Beautiful.
And now looked like he’d fallen off the pedestal he put himself on.
Crashed into the ground.
All because of you.
“Say it again,” you said.
“What?”
“What you said. Just now.”
He swallowed. “I’m in love with you.”
And you didn’t mean to.
You didn’t plan it.
But you kissed him.
Hard. Messy. Angry. Loving.
He kissed you back like he was dying.
Fingers in your hair. Hands trembling. Like if he let go for even a second, he’d lose you again.
everyone in sunghoon’s life knows that there’s one person he will never let go of. his girlfriend finds this out too late.
❥ PAIRING: park sunghoon x female reader
❥ GENRE: best friend au, smut
❥ WORD COUNT: 8k
❥ CW/TW: yandere themes, infidelity, sunghoon can lift reader, vomiting, drinking, jealousy, possessiveness, nipple play, fingering, pussy job(s), oral sex (f), unprotected sex, riding, squirting, creampies, having sex while another person is in the room
NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.
Everyone knows Sunghoon has someone he’s madly in love with. His acquaintances know that it’s an amazing girl who he’s known for most of his life. His friends know it’s the girl who’s all over his social media and usually by his side. His closest friends know that it’s not his girlfriend, Song Jihyun.
No one ever brings it up because it’s obvious that Jihyun (and every girl before her) is a placeholder until he gets what he really wants. It’s not right, but Sunghoon never feels guilty. He’s never hidden how important you are to him, and he never will.
That’s why he doesn’t care that his girlfriend is eagerly waiting for his call like she does every night. Instead of acting like a caring partner, he’s more interested in drinking with you after bar hopping all night. It’s not like he can be fully to blame for his disinterest in Jihyun. You are, without a doubt, the prettiest, most alluring girl Sunghoon has ever seen. He would do anything to spend more time with you even if it meant disregarding his girlfriend’s feelings.
Even just drinking and talking with you is more exciting than any time he spends with her. That’s why he always keeps a bottle of wine for when you come over. You two have gone through a full bottle, and Sunghoon hopes you’ll be too tired by the end of the night to go home.
“You know how pretty you are?” Sunghoon sighs dreamily as he watches you drink the remainder of his favorite wine.
Endearing laughter fills the room as you nod. There’s a mischievous gleam in your eyes when you look back at your friend. “Yeah. I see how you and your friends look at me.”
Sunghoon’s gaze is lidded. He loves how confident and secure you are—how you’re not afraid to show it. Everything about you is completely mesmerizing, and he can’t help but want to have you all completely to himself.
“Me?” He tries to act surprised as he tilts his head.
You nod and give him a grin that has his heart pounding in his chest. He knows you can have any guy you want, and that’s why he has to push your buttons so he can get you where he wants you.
“You couldn’t pull me.”
Sunghoon holds back a smirk when he sees that he’s successfully gotten under your skin. His cock starts to come alive when he sees you pause, eyes alight with a challenging look he recognizes all too well.
“Is that what you think?”
You don’t let him answer. “I could, and we both know that. That’s why your little girlfriend hates me so much.”
It’s true. Ever since Sunghoon introduced Jihyun to you, she all but asked him to find another best friend. He was quick to shut that ridiculous idea down. There was a lot he was willing to do so he could be a decent boyfriend, but cutting you off was where he drew the line. If Sunghoon had any say, you would never leave his side.
Jihyun caught onto this almost immediately after she met you. The way her boyfriend’s eyes light up any time you enter a room or whenever he gets a call from you. How attentive he always is to your needs and how he practically drops everything to run to you—even when he’s balls deep in her. Obviously, Sunghoon is obsessed with you. It killed her to realize it, but Jihyun still refuses to let Sunghoon go. After all, no matter how much he likes you, he’s still hers. She is the winner in this, not you.
“You think I’m that easy?” Sunghoon says with a faint blush.
You smirk at him, tongue swiping your bottom lip to capture the remnants of wine. His eyes are locked on your movements, and you have to hold back a laugh.
“So if I asked you to fuck me right now, you wouldn’t?”
Sunghoon smirks, and your fate is sealed.
Minutes later, you end up on your best friend’s bed in only your underwear. Sunghoon stares down at you like a hungry beast as his large hands smooth over the inside of your thighs. You can see the thick outline of his cock in his underwear, and you have to stop yourself from squirming in excitement.
“Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he groans when he sees that your panties are starting to stick to your cunt.
Sunghoon savors the sight. He feels something insatiable burning inside him as he pulls your panties to the side.
“Oh fuck me,” he whispers reverently. “You have the cutest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
His fingers delicately trace your slit before they circle your clit. Your best friend pulls away when you start to whine.
“So fucking pretty,” he moans before licking the juices from his fingers. “And you taste good. Fuck.”
Sunghoon’s pupils are blown wide when he finally pulls his heated gaze away from your pussy to meet your own half lidded gaze. “You’ll let me eat you out, right? Let me kiss and suck on this cute pussy until you cream on my face?”
“Fuck, Hoonie,” you whine, knowing you’ve gone too far, but feeling too good to stop. “What about Jihyun?”
Sunghoon’s fingers go back to toying with your wet cunt. You roll your hips up into the motion with a needy mewl. His brain hears you a second later, and he rolls his eyes. As always, you’re goading him into being honest for your own satisfaction.
“What about her? She never has to find out.”
You smile and bite your lip as he slowly circles your clit until you whimper again. A mean grin spreads on your face. “Filthy boy. She must not be enough for you.”
Sunghoon doesn’t feel any guilt because this is something he’s wanted for a long, long time. His girlfriend is nice and sweet, but the intimacy between them is boring and unexciting. He’s never even fucked her raw.
“I knew it,” you laugh gleefully as your best friend’s fingers trail down your slit to gather more juices. “Don’t worry, baby. This’ll be our dirty little secret.”
Honestly, Sunghoon can care less if Jihyun does end up finding out. All he can think about is your pretty pussy as he presses his slick coated fingers down on your throbbing clit. He grabs you and tugs you closer until you’re straddling his lap.
“Oh fuck,” you whimper, aroused by his display of strength.
Your best friend smirks as he goes to nip at your collarbone. “Our little secret? I like the sound of that.”
With that, he dips his middle and ring finger into your soft pussy. You moan and clench around his fingers, eagerly bouncing on his lap. His bulge presses against you and makes your mouth drop open with a sigh.
“Yeah?” You breathe out harshly. “You like that I’m gonna let you fuck my tight little pussy?
“That’s so—fuck. You’re so hot,” he scissors his fingers slowly in and out of your cunt. “I’m gonna treat this pussy so good, baby. Way better than I treat Jihyun’s.”
Your cunt clenches down on his fingers as you go to tangle your own in his hair. A loud whine escapes you as you ride his fingers, pussy wet and dripping all over his lap.
“God, Hoon,” you mewl as he grinds his long fingers across your g-spot. “Right there, fuck.”
Shuddering, your eyes roll back as his fingertips rub the spongy spot at the front of your cunt until your arousal gushes around the digits. Sunghoon licks a stripe up your neck, eager to have you fall apart for him.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this, baby. Fuck. You always get me so hard every time I see you. Just want to shove my face between your thighs and eat you out until you’re crying.”
Your head is swimming as he tells you all his dirty desires. You’ve always known it, but hearing it out loud just makes it so much better.
“Hoon,” you sigh into his mouth when he goes to kiss you heatedly. “God, you’re so hot.”
“Fuck. I need to taste you before I fill you up,” he murmurs against your lips. “Need to kiss your sweet little cunt until you’re soaking my sheets.”
It shouldn’t sound this hot—him cheating on his girlfriend with absolutely no remorse—but you’re kissing him again as arousal pools in your abdomen. Sunghoon eases you off his lap before he spreads your legs and wedges himself between your thighs.
He slowly takes off your underwear, groaning loudly when he sees the clear strings of arousal connecting to your pretty lips and panties. His eyes are dark when you take off your bra and toss it somewhere in his room.
Sunghoon’s dark gaze drags up and down your body. It makes you clench and drip with more arousal. He drops to his elbows and pushes your thighs up to your stomach. He whispers another sweet praise before he licks a broad stripe up your slit with his tongue. You cry out loudly when the wet muscle circles your clit softly before pulling away.
“So wet,” Sunghoon moans, kissing your pussy lips sweetly. “Fuck. I can’t wait to get my cock in this pretty pussy.”
“Hoon,” you moan when he goes back down on you.
Lewd slurping noises mix in with your filthy moans as Sunghoon devours your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better in his entire life. His tongue spears you open before fluttering against your walls. He repeats the delicious motions until your toes curl and your eyes cross. Your best friend pulls away with a grunt, licking and sucking his way back up to your swollen bundle of nerves. Another loud moan tears from your throat as he starts to kiss and suck on your puffy bud.
One last swipe of Sunghoon’s skillful tongue has your thoughts slowly turning into mush. His tongue flattens and he laps at your cunt with broad stripes until your hips start to move to roll your pussy against his mouth.
With a devious laugh, Sunghoon pulls back and moves his hands to spread your cunt. His cock throbs as your pussy pulses and glistens with your juices and his saliva. He groans at the erotic sight.
“So fucking pretty,” your best friend murmurs before he gently kisses your clit.
You whine desperately. “Please, Hoonie. I’m so close.”
As always, he’s eager to give you what you want. Sunghoon fucks his tongue back into your pussy with a low groan that sends vibrations up your cunt. You mewl out his name as he buries his face into your pussy. His thumbs hold your pussy open, nose bumping and grinding against your clit with every toe-curling movement. Sunghoon fucks his tongue in and out of your clenching hole until you’re making a mess all over his sheets.
“Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” You moan as your hips roll into his face.
Licking back up your pussy, Sunghoon sucks your clit into his mouth and runs his tongue around the swollen bud until you’re writhing and yanking on his hair. You let out a loud cry as you toss your head back and soak Sunghoon’s face with your orgasm. Your best friend moans and drinks up all of the slick gushing from your pussy.
“That’s it, baby,” Sunghoon hums fondly. He kisses your messy pussy before straightening up. “You came so hard. Did it feel that good?”
You give him a fucked out grin before yanking him down to give him a sloppy kiss. Sunghoon swallows your moans as he gives you a taste of yourself. He grins before sucking your tongue into his mouth. Eventually, he pulls away and gives you the prettiest smile.
“My cock’s going to feel even better.”
That’s how you end up in his lap with your bare pussy grinding down on his clothed bulge. Your juices and his precum have soiled the fabric of his underwear, and you’re becoming more desperate with each grind. Sunghoon is patient enough to savor the moment as he watches you with hooded eyes.
“Wanna sit on my cock, pretty girl? Want me to stretch this cute little pussy out?” He coos as you continue to rub your needy cunt all over him.
“Yes,” you hiss when he moves his hips to meet your movements. “Let me sit on your big cock, Hoon.”
Sunghoon grins victoriously and lets you tug his underwear down to free his aching cock. He raises his hips to slip them off completely before settling you right back on his lap. You both moan in sync when his girthy cock presses against your dripping pussy.
“God, Y/N. You drive me crazy,” Sunghoon groans before he leans forward to take one of your stiff nipples into his mouth.
You whine when he sucks it into his hot mouth. “Fuck, Hoon.”
His dark eyes watch you as his tongue circles your nipple before he nips it with those pretty fangs of his. The sight has you dripping with more arousal as you slide your cunt up and down his throbbing dick. He switches to the other one, giving it the same treatment before he starts to leave gentle bites all over your pretty tits. The more he teases at your nipples, the more juices drip onto his dick. Sunghoon groans at the feeling of your pussy parting around his cock perfectly.
“You’re soaking my cock with that cute pussy,” Sunghoon whispers against your heated skin. “You love having my mouth on your tits, don’t you, baby?”
“Yeah,” you whine. “I fucking love it.”
Sunghoon grins when you press his face against your tits, forcing him to suck your nipple back into his mouth. Your best friend groans when as he runs his tongue over your stiff bud until you’re tugging on his hair.
“Fuck, Hoon. I want your cock,” you mewl desperately. “Need to feel you inside me.”
“Soon, baby,” Sunghoon grunts as he continues to lathe his tongue over your sensitive nipple. “Let me finish having my fun first.”
You moan again, pussy leaking even more juices. To have Sunghoon worshipping your tits makes you feel a pleasure you didn’t think was possible. You run your nails across his scalp and down his neck, watching with a satisfied grin as his eyes flutter from your touch. His eyes lock with yours, and they’re completely dark as his hand slides down your body to thumb your slippery bud.
“Whose pussy is this?” Sunghoon wonders as he pinches your clit to make you cry out. “It’s mine, isn’t it, pretty girl?”
You nod through a needy whine. The sharp smack to your clit that follows makes you moan his name. Sunghoon smirks deviously as he repeats his actions until your cunt soaks his palm.
“Of course it is.” Sunghoon laughs in delight.
Then, he drags the leaking head of his cock up your slit to smack against your puffy clit. Sunghoon groans when he notches the head of his dick against your hole. You moan quietly when he sinks the tip inside your cunt. Your best friend laughs and pulls out of you completely. His grin is devious as you whine in protest. Once again, his leaking cockhead teases your fluttering hole.
“So hot and tight,” Sunghoon’s dark eyes seem to be sparkling as he looks up at you. “So fucking pretty.”
With that, he sinks the fat head of his dick back inside your fluttering walls. Your eyes roll back with a loud moan as you slide down his cock. The stretch is delicious, and you’re eager to take him down to the hilt.
“Gonna fuck this cute pussy until my balls are empty. Keep you stuffed full and dripping with cum.”
“Fuck, yes,” you moan as you bounce down to try to get Sunghoon to bury his cock all the way inside your pussy. “Want your cum, Hoonie.”
His large hands squeeze your ass as you lean down to kiss him. Sunghoon readily welcomes the messy kiss as he sinks you down on his cock. A loud plop fills the room once you sit on it completely.
“Goddamn,” he groans. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. Feels like your little hole’s never had a cock in it.”
You whine at the praise, happy that your pussy is clamping down on the biggest cock it’s ever taken. “Never had a cock this big, Hoonie. I love it.”
“Yeah?” Sunghoon grunts as he rolls his hips up into you until his fat tip is hitting the deepest part inside you.
You miss the pleased grin on his face when you slump against him with a fucked out nod. Sunghoon takes the opportunity to ram his girthy cock into your hot little cunt. His hips pump into you in a punishing rhythm, loving how you’re clearly already addicted to his cock.
“Want me buried as deep as possible, pretty? Want me to rearrange your guts until you cum all over my cock?” Sunghoon hisses against your ear.
“Yes, yes! I want it so bad, Hoon!” You moan as you start to roll your hips and clamp down on his dick.
Sunghoon lifts you up, letting his cock slip out halfway before thrusting up at the same time he drops you back down on his cock, plunging so deep in your pussy that it makes you scream. He repeats the actions with the most attractive smirk on his face. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy as he keeps using you like a fucktoy.
“That’s it, baby. Fucking scream for me,” Sunghoon groans as your pussy paints his cock with your juices. “Let everyone know how much you love my cock.”
Your cries of pleasure fuel the insatiable beast inside Sunghoon. He wraps a strong arm around your waist and flips you on your back while keeping his throbbing cock inside you. The carnal look you give your best friend has him pressing your legs to your chest. Your mind is dizzy with white hot pleasure as Sunghoon starts to drill his cock into your g-spot.
Filthy moans fill the room along with the lewd squelching coming from your cunt. Sunghoon pumps his cock into your greedy pussy, loving how your tits bounce with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping together mix in perfectly with your pretty cries of pleasure as he fucks you stupid.
“You’re getting so tight around me, baby,” Sunghoon moans. His eyes are locked on where you’re connected, and just the filthy sight of being buried balls deep in your cunt pushes him closer to the edge. “Shit, Y/N. I’m gonna keep you on my cock until you’re cumming over and over again—fuck—gonna cream your little pussy until you’re full of me.”
Your eyes roll back at the promise, pussy clenching and dripping around his girthy cock. “Please, Hoonie. Fuck. Give it to me!”
Somehow, his thrusts get rougher. Loud cries spill from your pretty lips, and it makes Sunghoon drive his fat cockhead right into your g-spot.
“I’m close!” You mewl, completely lost in pleasure.
Sunghoon gives you a tantalizing grin before dragging his hand down your body to slap your clit. You writhe like you’ve been electrocuted, and Sunghoon laughs in delight as he goes to smack your clit again. He thumbs and presses into your clit as you grind into his movements.
“Cream on my cock, pretty girl. Do it for me so I can fill you up with my load,” Sunghoon groans as he swoops down to give you a sweet kiss.
“Fuck, Hoonie. Fill me up,” you moan as he continues to run rough circles on your puffy bud.
Sunghoon pounds his cock into your squelching pussy so hard that it makes his bed shake. “I will, baby. Just tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
Even fucked out, you give him a teasing grin that he loves so much. “Yours, baby. Just yours.”
“That’s right. All mine.” Sunghoon growls as he presses down on your clit until your toes curl.
You cry out his name as the tight band of arousal in your stomach snaps. Sunghoon’s fingers and hips don’t stop even as your orgasm bleeds into a second one.
“Just like that, baby. Squeeze my fucking cock.”
“Cum inside me, Hoon,” you say deliriously. “You promised.”
Sunghoon’s moan is loud as he buries himself balls deep in your cunt, cock kicking and throbbing as your pussy milks him for every drop of his cum. You feel the hot spurts of his thick spunk filling your hole until it slowly drips out around his cock. He grunts and rocks his hips a few times, pumping the last ropes of his seed deep into your pussy before slowly pulling out. His dark eyes watch your messy pussy drip with his load, wanting nothing more than to go again.
Instead, he lays next to you and pulls you into his chest.
“You drive me crazy,” Sunghoon hums into your hair.
You grin into his collarbone. “I know.”
“Can you please answer Sunghoon’s messages?” Jay groans as soon as you let him into your house.
“Bro has not stopped bitching in the group chat,” Jake adds as he comes in right after Jay.
You try not to smirk as you lead your friends into the kitchen. It’s not like you meant to ignore your best friend, but after you two fucked you got unexpectedly busy and didn’t have time to hang out. After a few days, you realized unintentionally ignoring him made him react in a way that gave you a sick amount of pleasure.
“I did answer,” you say as you get some water bottles for them. “Told him I’d see him at Jihyun’s party on Friday.”
Jay raises a doubtful eyebrow while Jake zeroes in on the massive bouquet on the kitchen table. The size and detailed arrangement of the pretty flowers make it obvious that it’s expensive.
“Who are these from?” Jake wonders when he doesn’t see a card.
Luckily, you put the card in your room. It’s not like they couldn’t guess the flowers are from Sunghoon, but that card would go into details that you’re not ready to get into with them. Not yet, anyway.
“Don’t know,” you say casually. “There was no card.”
“You should throw them out.” Jay says.
“Yeah. What if they’re from some creep?” Jake exclaims as he recoils from the bouquet like it bit him. “Plus Sunghoon will actually crash out if he finds out some guy sent you flowers.”
“You don’t know that they’re from some guy!” You exclaim to cover the laughter bubbling in your throat.
“Guy or girl, it doesn’t matter. Hoon will still go crazy if he finds out someone is sending you flowers with romantic intentions.”
“He has a girlfriend,” you remind Jay with a small smirk.
Your friends roll their eyes at the same time. Everyone knows Jihyun is his girlfriend in name only. She doesn’t compare to you when it comes to where you stand in Sunghoon’s heart.
“Sure,” Jake laughs. “Are you going to show us this dress or what?”
You squeal in excitement and lead them to your room.
The party is in full swing by the time you get there. You say hi to a few people before going to the kitchen to find Jake. As luck would have it, he’s in the middle of a conversation with Sunghoon. You try your hardest to keep the smirk off your face as you call their names.
You don’t miss the way your best friend’s eyes get dark once you reach them and give them friendly hugs. He doesn’t let you give him a side hug like you do to Jake. Sunghoon pulls you flush against his body and cages you against him.
“I missed you, baby,” he whispers in your ear. “You’ve been torturing me lately.”
You pull back just enough to look him in the face since he refuses to let you go. “I told you I was busy, Hoonie. Don’t be mad, okay?”
His arms tighten around your waist as he lightly sways you. The cute pout you’re giving him is irresistible, and he knows he won’t be able to pretend to be mad at you anymore.
“Park Sunghoon.”
Jihyun saying his full government name doesn’t make him let you go. Instead you two turn to her like she’s interrupting.
“Hey, Jihyun,” you say with a friendly smile.
Her glaring eyes flicker to you for a fraction of a second before they settle back on her boyfriend. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
Sunghoon still doesn’t let you go, and you decide to have a little fun. “Go ahead, Hoon. I saw Hee earlier, and I want to go say hi.”
Sunghoon’s head snaps back to you, a dangerous anger already swimming in his pretty eyes. Lee Heeseung is a friend of Jay’s who you’ve hooked up with once before. The idiot thinks that he actually has a real shot with you. Everyone knows it, and Sunghoon thinks he’d rather break up with Jihyun right now than let you go anywhere near him.
“It’s okay,” you reassure him when you see that he still makes no move to let you go. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Your words hold a promise and so does your gaze. It’s the only reason Sunghoon lets you go and wander off to find the boy with the stupidly pretty eyes. With a glare he turns back to Jihyun who’s red in the face and looks angrier than he’s ever seen her.
“What do you want?” Sunghoon asks, wanting to get her tantrum out of the way so he can go find you.
“I want my boyfriend to stop embarrassing me in front of all these people,” she hisses, close to tears.
Sunghoon rolls his eyes. He can’t believe he let you get away just for Jihyun to bring up some bullshit like this. “Here we go again. When are you going to stop being so fucking insecure?”
Jihyun sucks in a sharp breath like she’s been hit. Up until now, Sunghoon had never been mean or disrespectful even if he did things that bothered her.
“You looked like you would’ve literally kissed Y/N if I hadn’t walked in!” She exclaims hysterically.
Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “And what if I had? Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel about her—how I’ve always felt about her.”
Jihyun’s heart is pounding and her throat is tightening up. Yes, she’d known it, but she also thought he was starting to really like her.
“So that’s it then? I was just a placeholder?”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Think what you want, Jihyun. If you have nothing else to say, I’m going to go find Y/N.”
Before he can leave the kitchen, she stops him with tearful words. “You’re still mine, Sunghoon. I’m still your girlfriend no matter how you feel about her.”
There’s a tense pause, and just as Sunghoon debates breaking up with her, she says something that makes the most insane part of him snap.
“Y/N doesn’t feel that way about you. That’s why she’s never picked you in all this time.”
Jihyun lets out a quiet sob when her boyfriend walks away from her instead of responding.
Several shots later, Jihyun stumbles into her balcony where you and Lee Heeseung are talking and laughing. She scowls, hating that the second most attractive guy she’s ever met is also very enamored with you.
“Y/N, where’s Sunghoon?” She slurs as she stumbles into you.
Your eyes widen as you catch her. You help her stand, nodding back to the living room where Sunghoon is watching with the most predatory stare you’ve ever seen on him. “Over there.”
Jihyun unseeingly glances his way before settling her angry gaze back on you. “Is he watching me or you?”
“No idea,” you say placatingly. “Probably you since you’re his girlfriend.”
Even on the verge of blacking out, Jihyun catches the way you say that to her mockingly. She frowns again, stumbling slightly as she looks back at a watching Sunghoon.
“Will you get her some water, Hee?” You ask sweetly. “I think she’s had a little too much to drink.”
The boy gives you a pretty smirk. “Sure. Be right back.”
“Are you gonna fuck him?” Jihyun slurs as you settle her into one of the chairs. “He’s hot.”
You laugh a little as you watch her slump into an awkward position. “He is, but I don’t feel like fucking him tonight.”
“Then are you gonna fuck my boyfriend?” Jihyun wonders through a hiccup. “I know you want to.”
“It’s the other way around,” you say with a mean smirk. “You’ve always known that it’s the other way around.”
Jihyun scoffs, getting angry all over again. “You two really are best friends.”
It’s silent for a while until she looks at you with a determined glare.
“Why can’t you just leave us alone? Why can’t you go fuck Heeseung or Jake or–or anyone else that’s not my boyfriend?”
Jihyun sounds hysterical at this point, but you remain unfazed. After all, you’re not the third wheel here.
“Sunghoon is the one who can’t leave me alone. Why do you think he chose the same university as me? He’s the one who moved to the same city as me and always assimilates himself into my friend groups. You think he did all that just because he’s my best friend?” You laugh.
Only you know about his stalker tendencies, but you doubt Jihyun will remember any of this. Even if she does, you don’t care. You’re sick of her and her willful blindness.
“H-He did all that?” Jihyun feels like throwing up, and it’s not because of the alcohol.
You laugh again. “I think you’re mistaken about something, Jihyun. I’m not coming between you and your boyfriend. You’re the one who’s coming between Sunghoon and I.”
Jihyun’s head is spinning, and the last coherent thought she has gets in oblivion as darkness takes over her consciousness. You laugh again and go to help her up. Even though you don’t feel bad, you’re not mean enough to leave her passed out on her balcony.
“Let me help, baby.”
You let Sunghoon pick her up. He looks at you, waiting for his next orders. You smile and tell him to lead the way to her room. Sunghoon dumps Jihyun onto her bed, not caring to be gentle. You laugh and turn her on her side so she doesn’t choke on her vomit if she gets sick later.
Sunghoon stands behind you and settles his hands on your hips. “You look so good, pretty girl. I didn’t get to tell you earlier.”
“Did you break up with her?” You wonder through a grin.
“Not yet. Not until you tell me to.”
“You can do what you want, Hoon,” you say as he presses himself closer to you.
“What I want is to fuck you right here, right now.”
His nasty words send a thrill straight to your cunt. “Filthy boy. You want to fuck me on your girlfriend’s bed while she’s passed out?”
“She won’t know,” he says as he rolls his bulge into your ass. “And I’ve been wanting to break this bed in.”
You laugh in disbelief. Of course he wouldn’t have fucked Jihyun in her own bed. Instead he’s giving you that pleasure, and you can’t say it doesn’t please you. Arousal starts to make the fabric of your panties stick to your cunt. You bite your lip and let Sunghoon carry and set you down on the other side of the bed. He follows in suit and gives you a messy kiss. You moan into his mouth as he slips a hand under your dress to brush across your soaked slit.
“Fuck, baby. You’re already so wet. You want my cock that bad?”
“Yes,” you whine. “Probably as bad as you want this pussy.”
Sunghoon groans as he pushes your panties to the side. He uses his middle and ring finger to part your slick folds. You whine softly and roll your hips into his hand.
“Gotta prep this tight little hole or I’m not gonna fit,” Sunghoon grunts. “Cute little pussy hasn’t had a cock this big in a while.”
He knows because he’s been watching to make sure it hasn’t. Arousal burns hot inside you as he fucks his fingers into your fluttering hole.
“Seems like you haven’t had some good pussy in a while,” you counter through a moan. “That loser doesn’t fuck you like you need, huh?”
Sunghoon groans when he finds the spot inside you that has your pussy squeezing down on his fingers. “No one compares to you, baby. Just look at this pretty pussy. It’s the best I’ve ever had.”
Your cunt clamps down on his digits again. A fleeting glance to the side confirms that Jihyun is still very much passed out. You grin and give him the look that drives him crazy.
Sunghoon slips his fingers out of you with a wet squelch and pops them into his mouth with a loud groan. “So fucking good.”
You watch with hungry eyes as he gets up and takes his clothes off. The tip of his fat cock drips precum down the length of it, making your mouth water for a taste. He grips the base and shakes his dick at you. Your clit throbs and your pussy drips with more arousal. He’s so big and thick. Just knowing he’s about to fill you up and stretch you out on his cock makes your pussy clench in eagerness.
You get up and push Sunghoon down on the bed. You slip your dress off, only leaving your panties on. He settles against the headboard as you straddle his lap, you trap his cock inside your panties, grinning as your dripping pussy rubs along his throbbing cock
“Fuck,” you whine as you grind slowly against Sunghoon.
“God, baby,” Sunghoon groans as he watches your pretty tits bounce. “You know how to drive me crazy.”
“Yeah? You like feeling my pussy rub all over your fat cock?” You goad as you rock against him harder.
“You know I do,” Sunghoon groans as he tosses his head back when your clit catches in the tip of his cock. “Let me suck on your pretty tits, baby. I know you like when I do.”
Licking your lips, you lean forward and shove your tits in his face. Sunghoon captures one of your hard nipples in his mouth, sucking and licking like he can’t get enough. He groans deeply as his lips and tongue work one hard bud while his fingers tweak and pinch the other. Your hips keep grinding into him as arousal pulses in your clit. Sloppy sounds of sucking fill the room along with your moans and whines as Sunghoon lathes your tits with his hot tongue.
“Fuck, Hoon. You’re so hot. Need your cock inside me,” you gasp as he bites your nipple and runs his tongue across it over and over until you’re squirming against him.
“Think you deserve it?” Sunghoon wonders as kisses across your breasts, teeth nipping at the skin as he swaps to the other nipple.
“Don’t I?” You wonder through a moan.
“I don’t know. You’ve been ignoring me, pretty girl,” Sunghoon says as he pouts up at you. “You know I hate that.”
“I’ve been busy, baby. Plus, you had your hands full with your little girlfriend.”
Sunghoon pinches your nipples hard until you’re grinding against him. “You know that loser means nothing to me.”
With that, he slides his girthy cock into your pussy. He’s so much bigger than you remember. The painful stretch has you arching your back in pleasure. You toss your head back with a loud moan as Sunghoon bullies his cock deeper into your pussy until he’s bottoming out. He kisses you sweetly as you sink down on his dick with a lovely moan.
“That’s it, pretty girl. Fuck. I missed this tight little pussy.”
You shove your tits into his face when his hands tighten on your hips. Sunghoon kisses across your tits, sucking bruises into the sensitive skin. With a deep groan, he suckles on one of your nipples eagerly until you’re bouncing on his dick. You let your hands hold onto his soft hair as you rock your hips down on his throbbing cock. Mewling, you tug on the silky strands as Sunghoon’s tongue laps across your swollen nipples. His hands move up to your waist as he fucks your hot pussy.
Your eyes cross as he pounds your fluttering hole. Neither of you care to be quiet even though Jihyun is lying next to you. That’s the last thing on either of your minds as Sunghoon buries his cock deep in your throbbing cunt. Sunghoon groans, suckling your hard bud deeper into his mouth. His cock kicks and throbs as you slump forward, messily smashing your tits into his face.
“You’re gonna leave marks, Hoonie,” you whine as he nips at the swell of your breasts before pulling away.
“But you like it, pretty. I can feel you squeezing down on my cock,” he grins, shaking the hair from his face as he tilts his head up. “Now give me a kiss.”
You whine in the back of your throat and drop your mouth down on his. Unlike most people believe, you’re just as weak to Sunghoon as he is to you. You’re just a little better at controlling it.
Sunghoon moans in pleasure, licking into your mouth to run his tongue against yours teasingly. He tugs you closer, and the kisses become more sloppy. He laughs softly when your fingers drop from his hair to cup the back of his head, pulling him forward until there’s no space between you.
Even after you pull away for a short breath, Sunghoon just tugs you back in for another messy kiss, his hot tongue licking into you once again.
“You have no idea how bad I missed you, baby,” Sunghoon whines as you keep rolling your hips into him. “You gave me the best sex of my life and then pretended like I didn’t exist after it.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” you say, pussy fluttering when his cock grinds against the spongy spot inside you. “I didn’t do it on purpose. You’ll forgive me, right?”
“You know I will,” Sunghoon coos up at you, letting one of his hands drop down to tease your swollen clit. “But to make it up to me, you’re gonna let this sweet pussy milk a nice thick load outta me, right?”
“Fuck yeah. I’m gonna milk your cock so good, baby,” you slur, arching your back so your tits brush against his mouth.
He grunts and bites at your soft tits. “That’s it, squeeze my cock.”
You whine, body jerking as he pinches and rubs your pudgy clit. Sunghoon sucks each of your nipples between his teeth before running his tongue across them. The coil in your stomach is winding tighter and tighter as Sunghoon teases your nipples and clit at the same time.
“Oh!” You gasp. “I’m gonna cum, Hoonie—!”
A loud cry spills from your mouth as you clamp down on Sunghoon’s dick, pussy walls fluttering and milking his throbbing cock as he fucks you through your orgasm.
“So fucking hot,” Sunghoon groans as he fucks his cock up into your squelching pussy. “Fuck. Gonna make me cum, baby. Ready to get your cute little pussy creamed?”
“Yes, yes, please,” you moan, digging your nails into his shoulders, making him curse under his breath and bury his cock deep into your sopping wet hole.
You feel rope after rope of hot, sticky cum spurt inside your cunt. It doesn’t stop. You’re stuffed so full that it leaks out around his throbbing cock.
“So pretty,” he places open mouthed kisses across your clavicle up to your neck, letting his tongue tease across your skin. “My pretty girl.”
You sigh, feeling blissful and completely satisfied. He tugs your head down to kiss you softly at the corner of your mouth. You two kiss for a while until you have another urge.
“I want more.”
Sunghoon gives you a filthy grin and slips out of you to lay you on your back. He kneels in front of you and rips off your panties in one fluid movement. You mewl when he slides his aching cock between your messy pussy lips. His cock rubs against your slick folds and across your clit deliciously. With a whimper, you spread your legs to entice him.
“Please, Hoonie.”
His leaking cockhead presses against your hole but doesn’t sink in any further. He grips his cock and rocks the tip in and out of your cunt. Sunghoon slaps the fat head of his dick down onto your wet pussy. “I’m gonna stretch this little pussy out until you’re shaped like my cock.”
With a filthy moan, your eyes flicker over to Jihyun. She’s still passed out, completely oblivious to all the filthy things her boyfriend is doing to you on her bed.
Sunghoon clicks his tongue. “This pretty pussy wants my cock, huh? Look at how wet it is.”
“Just fuck me, Hoon,” you whine. “Please.”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Sunghoon finally sinks his thick cock into your hot cunt inch by inch. He buries himself to the hilt with a deep grunt.
Your pussy flutters and pulses around his cock as your juices coat his length. “Fuck, it’s so big.”
“Yeah, it is,” he laughs before kissing your temple. “And your cute pussy is a perfect fit. So tight and wet.”
You scream in pleasure when Sunghoon starts to fuck you with hard, deep strokes. Eyes rolling back in your head and toes curling in pleasure, you rock your hips against his thrusts. His pelvis grinds against your clit every time he bottoms out in your cunt, making your pussy grip his cock like a vice.
Just knowing his girlfriend right next to you as Sunghoon pounds into your needy pussy makes everything feel so much better.
Sunghoon drops all his weight on you, pinning your body to the bed and grinding the fat tip of his cock into your cervix. Tongue feeling heavy and useless, you babble out his name. That’s his cue to pump his cock in and out of your greedy pussy so fast that it sounds obscene. Loud, wet squelches and the slap of skin are barely heard over your own cries and screams as Sunghoon fucks you stupid.
“I’m gonna cum inside you,” he whispers with a grin. “Gonna fill up this slutty pussy.”
“Yes!” You cry out. “Do it, baby. Cream this tight little pussy!”
Sunghoon swivels his hips, the fat tip of his cock rubbing against your g-spot hard enough to make you squeal. “Just look at you. Fucking gagging to have me stuff you full. Fuck. You love my cock rawing this sweet little pussy.”
You tangle your hands in his hair and bring him closer for a dirty, tongue-filled kiss. Your pussy grips his dick tightly as you whine impatiently. “Want you to cum in me.”
“Fuck, baby. What if Jihyun wakes up and hears you?” Sunghoon laughs in your ear, dick harshly rutting in and out of your squelching cunt. “This cute pussy’s so loud. You’re gonna get us caught.”
“Don’t care,” you whine, nails digging into his bare shoulders. He hisses in pleasure, thrusting harder into your clenching heat. “She knows you belong to me.”
Sunghoon’s cock throbs in delight. “That’s right. And you belong to me. That’s why this tight pussy can’t stop creaming my cock,” He coos in your ear.
Eyes fluttering closed, you moan loudly, legs wrapping around his waist to lock behind his back. Sunghoon groans as his hips roll against yours, cock plunging deeper into your dripping hole. “Gonna blow my load in your greedy cunt until you can’t handle it.”
Pulling out suddenly, he grips your hips to manhandle you over onto your front. He yanks your ass back, pressing his palm on your shoulders to push your head onto the pillow. His cock bullies back into your sopping wet pussy. Filthy plap plap plap sounds fill the bedroom along with your cries of pleasure.
You moan into the pillow, drool soaking the material as Sunghoon rails you into the bed his girlfriend sleeps on every night. Eventually he slows his pace, dragging his dick halfway out before sinking back in. “Whose cock is better, mine or Heeseung’s?”
“Huh?” Your brain is mush at this point, your thoughts concentrating on cumming all over his cock while he creampies you.
“I said, ‘Which cock is better?’” Sunghoon punctuates his question with thrusts deep enough that his tip bumps your cervix, making you moan weakly. “‘Mine or Heeseung’s?’”
You stumble over your words, not able to think until he reaches under your body to play with your clit.
“Better question,” he purrs into your ear. “Which cock do you love more?”
“Yours, Hoonie,” you cry out when he fucks his cock deeper into your cunt. “Love your cock. It’s the only one that makes me cum.”
Sunghion smirks as he pounds his cock into your drippy hole. “And? What else?”
“A-and it’s the only cock I want to creampie my pussy,” you mewl, thrusting back against him. “Please, Hoon. I want you to cum in me. Cum in my little pussy.”
“Goddamn,” he groans, fucking you so hard and fast the bed shakes. He slips his hand around your hip and begins rubbing your slippery clit in quick circles. “Good fucking girl. So fucking good—fuck! Cum for me. Need to feel this slutty pussy creaming my cock so I can fill you up. Cum for me, so I can give you what you want.”
He slaps your clit with the flat of his fingers, and it pushes you over the edge, climax overtaking your body. You squirt with a loud cry of his name. Slick gushes from your hole and completely coats his pelvis until it’s running down your thighs and ruining Jihyun’s sheets
“Fucking shit. That’s it, baby. Show me how much this pussy likes my cock,” Sunghoon moans.
You tremble and cry out, burying your face in the pillow to muffle the noise. Fireworks explode behind your eyes while your pussy milks his cock over and over, dripping slick all over the two of you.
“That’s it, fuck, gonna cum inside you nice and deep like I promised,” Sunghoon curses under his breath and thrusts against you a few more times before sinking his cock inside you to the hilt.
Hot, thick spurts of cum fill your fluttering walls until it spills out around his cock. Rutting against your ass, he grinds his cock in your pulsing cunt. After a few minutes, he takes in a deep breath and pulls out with a low groan. You lay there, panting heavily into the pillow, body completely spent.
He smacks the head of his cock against your sensitive and puffy cunt, “Since this naughty little pussy is just pushing out all my cum, guess I’ll have to stuff it again.”
You wiggle your ass in agreement.
Jihyun wakes up with a terrible headache. She recognizes her room, and she has faint memories of a conversation with you before it all goes black. When she slowly sits up, a nasty, familiar scent hits her. She looks around, eyes zeroing in on the filth left on the opposite side of her bed. She feels sick, and before she can process anything, her phone buzzes.
Several messages are waiting for her, but the one that sticks out is the one of a video her friend sent to her. It’s a short, five second clip of Sunghoon carrying her into her room with you following behind.
It doesn’t take long for Jihyun to put two and two together. She leans over and retches, emptying the contents of her stomach on the floor beside her bed. Tears and pathetic sobs follow, and she can’t help but think that she should’ve believed Sunghoon when he said he was never going to let you go.
pairing ↠ dilf!sunghoon x (f) reader (ft. bf!jake)
genre .. warnings ↠ smut, age gap (18+), unprotected sex, stepcest, underaged drinking, toxic relationship, reader is barely 18, this is like extremely gross don’t say you weren’t warned
summary ↠ sunghoon has been your stepdad since you were maybe thirteen or fourteen. at first, you didn’t want anything to do with him - not to go to his and your mom’s wedding, not to move to his state, and definitely not to live in his house. you had convinced yourself that all men were the same. but sunghoon was nothing like the father that had abandoned you at the worst possible time and left you to deal with your emotionally unavailable mother. he was kind, sweet, caring. and as you grow older, you find yourself falling for the one person you should never, under any circumstances, want.
wc ↠ 20k
a/n ↠ my first real fic all year 🥹 as always, feedback is appreciated!
don’t like it, don’t read.
for as long as you could remember, you had never been particularly fond of your boyfriend’s friends.
they were outright obnoxious, and even that was you being kind and considerate. their voices boomed loudly and their laughter rang out, and the demeaning remarks they made too often to be mere jokes always made you a little uncomfortable.
though they knew better than to make any lewd comments about you, at least. most of them were about a pretty girl wandering the party, or their girlfriend of the week. but you weren’t dumb. you saw the way they looked at you every now and then, judging you. scorning you. tearing you apart.
no comments were spoken squarely to your face, but you knew they were conjured. it made you wonder what they said to jake when you weren’t there on his lap, and you wondered if he chimed along.
thick clouds of smoke loomed in the stuffy air, making it difficult to breathe. you coughed into your fist, feeling your throat itch. honest to god, you had absolutely no clue how they smoked that shit. the one time jake had coaxed you into putting a joint to your mouth, you had thought you were dying.
jay said something that abruptly made the group of boys burst into laughter. you jolted, lifting your head from jake’s shoulder. he tightened his arm, which was looped around your back, holding you against him. “jake?” you whispered.
“hm?”
you were reluctant to say anything, knowing how he would likely respond, but you didn’t want to be here anymore. “can we go somewhere else?”
jake exhaled through his nose. you knew he didn’t want to leave. to him, these nights with his friends were harmless little exploits that made his life a little easier.
it didn’t help that he was already annoyed with you. when he swung by earlier to pick you up, he looked you up and down, and the first thing to leave his mouth was a disgruntled, “why do you always dress so childishly?”
you had never thought of your bright colors and cute patterns as inherently childish. matter of fact, the cute, brown top with stitched teddy bears you were wearing was one of your favorite shirts.
“why do you want to leave?” jake asked softly, gently rubbing your back in hopes of soothing you.
“it’s too noisy,” you complained, peering up at him.
jake could have rolled his eyes. fuck’s sake, it was a party. obviously, it wasn’t going to sound like a prayer hall. “if you smoked a little, it wouldn’t bother you.”
“i don’t like smoking.”
“that’s because you’re not used to it, baby,” jake reasoned.
“i don’t want to get used to it,” you mumbled. “you guys all pass around the same joint. you’ve basically kissed each other. which means that when you kiss me, i’m kissing all of them.”
jake groaned, “you’re so dramatic, you know that, sweetheart? it’s just a joint.”
“can you please just take me home?” you pleaded. between the rings of smoke hanging over you and the resounding thud of music and the cacophony of loud voices, you felt like you were suffocating.
jake was silent for a few moments, jaw tight. something tightened in your chest, recognizing the look on his face as something angry. before you could change your mind, jake pushed you off his lap, watching you scramble onto your feet, and spoke, “gonna call it a night early, gang. my special princess over here is too good to hang with us.”
jungwon groaned. jay rolled his eyes. heeseung snickered, not so discreetly looking at your legs, and said, “bye, princess.”
jake flipped him off and guided you away, murmuring, “come on, baby.” his hand was on the small of your back.
the two of you pushed past the bundle of people partying in the main room, which was easier with your tall, respected boyfriend in tow. your shoulders relaxed when you were outside. you were happy to be breathing in the fresh air rather than smoking and doing whatever else people could get their hands on.
jake opened the door on the passenger side of his car, letting you climb inside. by the time you were on the road, his hand was on your thigh.
you didn’t mind that. jake was a very touchy boyfriend and he always had his hands all over you. the attention was something you needed, something you craved. it was just safe enough to make you feel wanted within the boundaries of your control.
but then, after maybe ten or fifteen minutes, his hand started to move. you tore your gaze from the window down to the motion on your lap, stomach churning as you sensed his hands slipping further and further. then, your eyes went up to his face. his eyes were on the road, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.
everyone was nervous about losing their virginity. everyone was scared of firsts. but for you, it was a little more than that. you weren’t scared of what happened during the act; you were terrified of what came after.
would jake still want you after you gave him what he’d been coveting? would he come back for more? could you meet his expectations, compare to the fantasies he’d crafted in his mind and had been hoping to enact?
you couldn’t know for sure. once you gave him what he wanted, you had nothing to keep him around anymore; nothing to rein him back in after the night was over. and the last thing you wanted was to be alone again. it had been okay, the ice, the nip, when it was all you’d ever known, but now that you had known how it felt to be warm, you didn’t want to remember how it felt to freeze.
“jake,” you called out softly. “what are you doing?”
“nothing, baby,” jake lied sweetly, feigning innocence. all the while, his hand was continuing to move up your leg. slowly, but surely.
when he got too close, you decided that you were more than a little uncomfortable and gingerly pushed his hand away, as if not to upset him. “babe, i don’t think that’s a good idea.”
jake forced a smile, and somehow, that was more unnerving than if he had screamed at you, exasperated. “goddamn it, woman,” he murmured. “you already dragged me away from my friends. the least you could do is make it worth it.”
you swallowed, guilt hitting you like a punch in the chest. but the anxious stirring in your stomach was a thousand times worse, a million times louder, and potent tenfold. “i’m sorry,” was all you could bring yourself to say.
jake scoffed, refusing to look at you. which was probably not so bad, all things considered. “yeah, you should be,” he grumbled.
your eyes watered, but you looked out the window and tried to think of happier, kinder times. you didn’t want to cry, not until you were alone where no one could see. you hated crying in front of others. it was embarrassing. to say nothing of the fact that whenever jake reduced you to tears, he called you a crybaby, and he’d already made you feel childish enough.
the rest of the drive home was silent, save for the sound of the wind blowing through your hair and the occasional honking; your only refuge in the midst of your struggle to be the perfect girlfriend. the cool night breeze calmed you, soothed you, and traffic felt familiar. it was oddly comforting, being stuck between two things with nowhere to go.
a feeling you knew all too well.
the only downside was that the longer you stayed there, hardly moving, the longer you had to pretend everything was okay and try desperately not to sob.
it felt like forever before you were finally back home. you immediately got out of the car, having assumed that jake wanted nothing more to do with you right now.
to your surprise, he sighed and willed himself to get out of the car, walking you to your front door.
you peered up at him, trying to read his face, trying to understand where he was at and where you had pushed him. “are you mad at me?” you asked timidly, as if you didn’t truly want to know the answer.
jake took his time to answer, exhaling quietly. “no, baby,” he said after a moment. “i’m not mad. but you can’t avoid sex forever, you know. that’s what people do. it’s natural.”
he said it so outrightly, so bluntly. as if it was really, truly just another thing that everyone did, that had no risk and no consequence. you admired his fearlessness sometimes, wondering how his life had unfolded for him to be so bold, and realized you knew very little about him. “i know,” you whispered.
jake reached for your hand, tenderly brushing his fingers over your knuckles. “but?”
you released a shaky breath. jake understood you, some ways better than others. he may have been completely clueless in some regards, but your body language was not one. shy, you confessed, “but i’m scared.”
“why are you scared?” jake asked, keeping his voice soft and level. “do you not trust me, sweetheart?”
“no, i do,” you replied, though you weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not. “but what if it’s not what you’re expecting?”
jake chuckled, as if that was absurd. “baby, relax,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “you could never disappoint me.”
your eyes got a little wider, a little starrier, watching him as if he was your whole world. “are you sure?”
“yeah, i’m sure, baby,” he told you, pressing a final kiss to your lips. “goodnight, sweetheart.”
“goodnight,” you whispered, watching him slowly start to back away. “text me when you get home.”
jake bobbed his head in acknowledgment and started to walk back to his car.
you unlocked the front door of your house, hoping to god your mother wasn’t somewhere lounging around or smoking. your stepfather didn’t enjoy when she smoked inside the house, but he was gone for the weekend. which, to her, meant his rules didn’t matter.
there was no sight of your mother when you walked into the house. but you blinked in surprise when you saw your stepfather’s favorite coat hanging on the rack in the foyer. you didn’t know people actually had those until you moved in with him.
sunghoon was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up halfway to his shoulders, drinking coffee out of a mug you’d designed for his birthday when you were roughly fourteen. it was stupid and kind of ugly, but the fact that he still drank from it, even after four years, warmed your heart.
“daddy?” you called, stunned. you weren’t expecting him to be here for another day.
“hey, doll,” sunghoon greeted, setting down his mug for a second. “you look surprised.”
you nodded your head. compared to what you heard in endless amounts of fiction, sunghoon didn’t go on many business trips. one a month, usually, for less than three days. “i thought you were coming back tomorrow?”
“we were able to wrap things up early,” sunghoon explained briefly. he didn’t like to bore you with the details of his job, though you often asked him about it, which was somewhat endearing.
“oh,” you mumbled. you tried not to show how happy you were. most times when you were alone here with your mother, you tried to go out as much as you possibly could, which was the only reason you had agreed to hang out with jake and his friends tonight.
“yeah.” sunghoon’s eyes flitted over your body, making you feel a little self-conscious. he would habitually remember to pick up his mug and wince at how hot his coffee was. “you look cute.”
you blinked. sunghoon always complimented the way you dressed, often reminding you how cute and beautiful you were. you wished your boyfriend was more like that. “thanks,” you replied, coming over to hug him.
sunghoon set his mug down again and threw his arms around you, gentle as ever. but he smelled something on you that he didn’t exactly love. “you went out with that boy again, didn’t you?”
“how did you know?”
“you smell like weed,” he answered bluntly.
your cheeks burned. the smell had followed you home, clinging to you. you didn’t notice it on yourself, but you knew how much he hated it. “i didn’t smoke,” you told him. “i was just next to them.”
sunghoon chuckled. he knew that. you hated the mere smell of smoke, always scrunching up your face whenever it stuck to your mother or whatever spot she’d chosen to get high at. “you don’t need to explain yourself to me, doll. i know you.”
you nodded, even more embarrassed. reluctantly, you pulled away and sat on the barstool next to him. it was late and you were kind of sleepy, exhausted of having to try so hard, but you wanted to talk to him.
ironically, it was silent for a moment as sunghoon sipped his coffee and you tried to think of what to say. sunghoon spoke first, mentioning offhandedly, “i don’t like your boyfriend.”
you sighed, resting your head against the island. “i don’t really like him, either.”
that threw sunghoon off. “so why are you still dating him?”
“i don’t know,” you huffed.
sunghoon’s eyes were fixed on you, wanting to get to the bottom of it and willing to confront the issue that you weren’t. you had no business staying in a relationship you weren’t content with. “is he threatening you?” he asked.
your shot up, eyes widening. “no, he’s not making me date him.”
if anything, that only served to make sunghoon even more alarmed, and he pressed, “what is he making you do?”
“he’s not making me do anything,” you replied quietly, knowing that wasn’t the best way to put it. “it’s just that… he wants to have sex.”
“and you don’t?” sunghoon finished for you. the topic didn’t make him feel awkward or uncomfortable, even if you were, by law, his daughter. he was the one person in the world you could talk to about anything and everything without fear, and he took great pride in that.
you shrugged, repeating, “i don’t know.”
“well, you gotta know something, baby,” sunghoon teased. “do you, or do not you?”
ignoring the way the pet name made you feel, you tried to think about it, hard. “i mean, he’s cute. and he’s nice enough most of the time,” you murmured, engrossed in thought. “but i guess i don’t really trust him that much yet. and i don’t want to give my body to someone i don’t trust.”
sunghoon hummed in understanding. “you know that’s not a bad thing, right?”
you sighed, shoulders slumped. “i guess.”
sunghoon placed his hand on your cheek, his touch feather light, as if you had a fragile warning on your forehead. “you can do so much better than him,” he whispered. “i know you’re going to do whatever you want at the end of the day, but as your father, i’m going to look out for you.”
but could you do any better? jake was your first boyfriend in years. maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he was better than all the failed talking stages you’d been through. if you held onto the good memories, the ones like only a moment ago where he held you tenderly and touched you with affection, you could bear the hurt.
but there was nothing like that with sunghoon. the way he touched you now, his hand on your face, was something you could always expect. “thank you for that.”
sunghoon shook his head. “you don’t need to thank me. it’s what i’m supposed to do.”
no, you have no obligation to do that, you thought to yourself, bemused. for nearly five years, he had been going above and beyond for you, treating you as if you were his very own daughter. you couldn’t understand it.
but you appreciated it. you appreciated everything. the way he reminded you how beautiful you were, the way he spent time with you even when he was exhausted, the way he listened to your problems and told you everything was going to be okay. without him, you would be so much more broken.
but you didn’t let your thoughts wander there. it was too much suppressed pain that you weren’t ready to uncover. “daddy, are you tired?”
sunghoon shrugged. “not really. i probably won’t go to sleep until around two. why?”
“do you want to watch a scary movie with me?” you asked, hopeful. yearnful.
sunghoon could see it in your eyes. he had learned to become very good at reading you after so long, though you’d always worn your emotions on your face. especially when you were thinking. it was very hard for you to lie. chuckling at the thought, he replied, “why not?”
you smiled, removing his hand from your face to slip your fingers through his as you hopped off the barstool, and led him to the living room.
the two of you settled on a nightmare on elm street and you went on to complain about how much you disliked eighties horror, much to sunghoon’s amusement. he tried to remind you that the technology and equipment available decades ago wasn’t the same as in the current age, but you didn’t budge.
apparently, you found the movie so boring that you fell asleep watching young johnny depp get devoured by a mattress. your head was on sunghoon’s shoulder, the couch blanket draped over you as you snored softly.
when you woke up, you were in your bed, cocooned inside your comforter instead and surrounded by stuffed dolls as birds chirped outside your window and the morning breeze whistled through the air.
none of which you had time to enjoy or even perceive, because the thing that had jolted you awake was the sound of a fist banging against your bedroom door. you groaned and willed yourself to climb out of bed, grumbling something underneath your breath, and threw the door open exasperatedly.
your mother was standing there in her robe, eyes red. “why didn’t you wash dishes?”
you fought a groan. that was the first thing to come out of her mouth? really? “wasn’t aware i was supposed to,” you said groggily.
clearly, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. “i don’t want to wake up to a dirty kitchen. we’ve been over this.”
you could have rolled your eyes at that. then, clean it up yourself, you retorted in your head. it wasn’t like you had made the mess. “you cooked while i wasn’t here and i didn’t have any.” i didn’t think i needed to clean up after you.
“that doesn’t mean shit,” she snapped. “you don’t have a job, you don’t do anything around the house. you need to take some responsibility.”
with that, your mother turned and walked away.
you closed the door and exhaled through your nose, trying to calm yourself. you had been awake for less than five minutes and she had already managed to piss you off.
and over the most ridiculous thing. it couldn’t have been that hard to clean up after herself instead of trying to make it your problem. maybe you didn’t have a job, but she didn’t either. and the only reason you apparently didn’t do anything around the house was because you never did anything to destroy it in the first place.
and because you very rarely left your room when your mother was there. something about her presence left you on edge. there were many times you went hungry just because you didn’t want to pass her in the living room on the way to the kitchen for a snack. for as long as you could remember, the familiar sound of her bracelets rattling and her sandals tapping the floor had made your heart race.
in the middle of trying to undo your frustration, you thought of something. you had woken up in bed, even though you’d most definitely fallen asleep on the couch with sunghoon, and you had no memory of making the journey upstairs.
which meant he’d carried you.
your heart fluttered. something about that thought - the thought of a bigger, stronger man carrying you - did unspeakable damage to your brain. you knew he was your stepfather, knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help but picture what else he could do with all that strength.
it was also worth mentioning that you were very vulnerable when you were just lying there innocently, asleep. he could have done anything to you if he wanted. if only he had wanted it.
almost the whole day had passed when, to your surprise, you had gotten a text from jake inviting you to hang out with him again. you had assumed he’d want time to himself after last night. but you wasted no time in getting ready, doing something different with your usually dolly makeup, and putting on a miniskirt to seem a little more mature.
you had been close to walking out of the front door, hurriedly walking past sunghoon and your mother who were sitting in the living room, until you heard your mother say, “come back. now.”
you slowly grinded to a halt, muttering annoyances to yourself, and forced a smile as you spun on your feet. “yes, mother dearest?”
“where the hell are you going at this time of night looking like a whore?” she asked, snappy.
you tried to take that in stride, but it was hard. she never failed to hurt your feelings.
your mother didn’t even give you the opportunity to respond before she demanded, “take that off.”
you stood your ground. “no.”
your mother looked at you like she wanted to lunge at you. ever since you had turned eighteen, which wasn’t even that long ago, you had gotten bolder. “if you leave wearing that, you’re just begging for it. don’t come crying to me if something happens.”
your eyes stung. how could she say something like that?
sunghoon made a face and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to stop her before she went too far. “doll,” he said to you, taking over. “i know you’re an adult now, but we still want you to be safe. i don’t know where you’re going, but i don’t trust this world enough to honor that wish. can you change, please? for me?”
switching on a dime, you replied meekly, “okay, daddy,” and went back upstairs to change your skirt.
your mother gawked in disbelief. then her expression flashed to anger. “why does she listen to you and not to me?”
“you called her a whore,” sunghoon replied, unsurprised. “i wouldn’t have listened, either.”
“i said she looked like one.”
sunghoon sighed. “that doesn’t make it any better. you know she’s sensitive. either way, you shouldn’t have said that.”
your mother said nothing, sulking. in her mind, it didn’t matter the delivery. she was your mother and she didn’t enjoy being disrespected.
the skirt you changed into was a little longer, at the least halfway down your thighs. you had been quick to change, grateful your bed was still littered in pile of skirts you’d handpicked (and would unfortunately have to clean later), and rushed outside to slide into the passenger seat of jake’s car.
the party he took you to tonight was better than the last one, at least. there were probably still people smoking and partying hard, but jake had you in the kitchen, where thankfully few people were.
jake handed you one of two red plastic cups with some kind of liquid in them. “here you go, baby.”
though you accepted the cup, you looked at it with scrunched brows, then back up at him. “what is this?”
“a mix of things,” jake replied with extreme vagueness. “just try it, sweetheart.”
you didn’t question him, just turning the cup up like it was juice, which you quickly realized couldn’t have been further from the truth. you grimaced, ears and throat burning, and put a hand on your chest. “what the fuck?”
jake furrowed his brows, feigning innocence. “you don’t like it?”
you shook your head. you’d had alcohol before, a few times when you were maybe fifteen and had sneakily took a shot of tequila from your mom’s pantry, but you had grown out of that. plus, you were still underaged in terms of drinking. “no, it burns,” you complained. “i’m not supposed to drink anyway.”
“you have such a stick up your ass,” jake teased, taking the cup from you and throwing back a gulp like it was nothing. he was only a year older than you, nineteen, and had no business drinking, either.
you shook your head in disapproval, though you knew it probably wasn’t much worse than him smoking.
“here,” he said, giving you the other cup he had been holding. this one was clear. “try this one. i think you’ll like it.”
you were reluctant, considering how much you disliked the first one he’d given you, but with how expectantly he was looking at you, you grabbed the cup and took a tentative taste. your eyes widened. it tasted like juice.
jake chuckled at your reaction. “good, right?”
you nodded, taking another sip. which became another, and another, until your head started to feel a little woozy. by the time you started to recognize it, you were already more than tipsy.
jake hoisted you into his arms like it was nothing and sat you atop the counter, draping his hands over your exposed thighs. “you look so pretty today,” jake mused aloud, admiring your skirt. “you get all cute for me?”
“yeah,” you murmured, eyes fluttering. it was all you could do to keep them open and suddenly, you wanted to go to bed.
“sleepy drunk, aren’t you?” jake asked, moving his hands to your waist to keep you upright. “heeseung’s room is upstairs. wanna go to bed, baby?”
you did, but certainly not here. you were drunk, not stupid. with you and him alone in a closed bedroom, there was no telling what all he would and wouldn’t do. and the fact that it belonged to heeseung only strengthened your hesitation.
“no, it’s okay,” you told him, shaking your head softly. you gingerly pushed yourself off the counter and onto your feet. “i’m gonna go to the bathroom.”
jake grabbed your hand, not wanting to let you loose just yet. “let me help you.”
“it’s okay,” you repeated, brushing him off. your heart thudded, nervous. “stay here.”
jake begrudgingly let you go, watching you disappear in the crowd with his jaw set. you just always managed to evade him, didn’t you?
you stumbled a little at first, but found your balance, making your way through the flock of other drunk partygoers. you gripped the railing for dear life as you climbed up the stairs, searching for the bathroom.
it was by the grace of god that you were able to find it and lock yourself inside without walking in on a couple trying to touch and feel on each other. you sighed in relief, digging around your bag for your phone. you had to get out of here, now.
with two incorrect attempts, you were able to enter your password and immediately went to your contacts, dialing the one person you knew you needed at a time like this. the one person who you could trust would be there for you no matter what.
sunghoon picked up on the second ring, answering, “hello?”
“daddy?”
even if it was only one word, sunghoon could hear in your tone that something wasn’t right. “yes, doll? is something wrong?”
“i think i messed up,” you murmured, grabbing onto the sink counter to stabilize yourself.
sunghoon’s brows stitched with worry, even if you couldn’t see. “what did you do? are you okay? are you hurt?”
“i don’t feel so good right now,” you replied, feeling drowsy. “i drank and i shouldn’t have, and… can you just come pick me up? please.”
you heard shuffling in the background, like he was already moving. “send me your location.”
fifteen minutes later, give or take, sunghoon called you and told you that he was outside.
you grabbed your phone and unlocked the bathroom door, heading straight for the stairs and making a beeline for the front door, wanting to leave before jake could spot you and do more damage. the second you saw your stepfather’s car, you hurried over, nearly tripping over your own legs.
thankfully, you were able to get inside his car without any problems, shutting the door and dragging the seatbelt over you.
sunghoon glanced at you, relieved to see that you were in one piece, but still worried. “are you okay?”
you nodded your head, sighing in relief just as the seatbelt clicked. “i’m okay,” you said, quiet. “thank you.”
sunghoon knew he should have been scolding you for drinking when you were only eighteen, but he was more concerned about your wellbeing at the moment. “why were you drinking?” he asked softly.
you swallowed, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer, but you had to be honest. “jake gave me a cup and told me to try it.”
sunghoon exhaled, starting the car. if you were going to talk about jake, it was best that he was far, far away from wherever he was. “he’s no good for you, you know that?”
you turned away and looked out the window, eyes watering.
sunghoon glanced over for a split second and reached out with his right hand, his left one gripping the wheel. “i don’t mean to make you cry, baby. but you know i’ll never lie to you.”
“i know,” you whispered, trying to fight the tears. god, you hated how you couldn’t control them, how they fell at any minor inconvenience and there was nothing you could do to stop them.
he would never understand; no one could. the reason you went back to jake even though you knew in your heart of hearts that he was just another boy that would never love you. hell, you hardly understood yourself. it was fair, considering you couldn’t say that you loved him either, but you felt something.
and it was this unidentified something that kept you tied to him like a knot rather than severing the bond. you didn’t love him, no, you hardly trusted him, but you liked him enough. he was your second best.
though sunghoon’s eyes were on the road, he still had a tender hand on yours, squeezing it firmly. “why do you keep hurting yourself like this, doll? you’re too smart to be fooling around with boys like that.”
“he’s all i have,” you said, your voice feeble.
sunghoon’s brows furrowed, confused. “that’s not true. you have me, you have your mom, and you have tons of friends and family that love you. what makes you feel like he’s all you have?”
family i feel disconnected from, friends i only show half of myself to, and an emotionally unavailable mother who wants to control my whole life, you thought with a resentment you had been nursing for years.
you swallowed it down, even though it was bitter and lingered on your tongue, and answered softly, “because sometimes, when he’s not angry, when he’s not smoking or drinking or trying to hook up, when he’s listening to me and looking at me like i mean something to him, i get to feel like he loves me.”
sunghoon didn’t skip a beat. “and how many times is that, baby?”
that hit you like the ceiling crashing down on your chest. all your life, you had just wanted somebody to love you. you had just wanted to feel like you mattered to someone and you had gone through great lengths just to hear it from another person’s mouth. you had always tried.
the only person in the world you never had to try with was your stepfather. the man had gone out of his way, since you were thirteen years old, to treat you like his own. at first, you had wanted nothing to do with him - not to go to his and your mother’s wedding, not to move to his state, and most definitely not to live in his house. you had convinced yourself from a young age that all men were the same.
but sunghoon was nothing like the father that had abandoned you just when you needed him most and left you to deal with your mother who was incapable of expressing any affection to you in a normal, healthy manner. sunghoon was kind, sweet, loving. he was patient with you, spent quality time with you, spoiled you with gifts and listened to your problems.
all things your father did when you were a little girl, when everything had been okay, once upon a time.
it was only natural that you found yourself gravitating towards him more often than not, wanting to be around him, wanting to hear his voice, wanting to hold him and spend every waking moment with him. and it was only even more natural that eventually, your heart began to flutter around him.
but you suppressed it, because you weren’t that dumb. you knew there were no chances of him reciprocating your feelings, not when he loved you with the love of a father. but the nipping void inside you was still there, and it had never felt more empty.
you knew it would be a bad idea to look at sunghoon, so you kept your eyes fixed on the gleaming towers and lights shimmering on the water as he crossed a bridge. “i know it doesn’t make sense,” you willed yourself to respond. “it doesn’t make sense to me, either.”
for a moment, sunghoon was silent. he may not have understood, but he wanted to deliver his words in the right way. in the end, he chose compassion. “feelings don’t always make sense, especially not right away, and especially not when you’re young and experiencing them for the first time. but that doesn’t mean you have to let them control you.”
arms crossed, you grumbled, “easier said than done.”
“i know it is, doll,” sunghoon whispered. “i know it is.”
something in his tone made you finally turn to face him. your eyes glimmered and you begged, “please, don’t tell mom.”
sunghoon looked conflicted, like he was weighing his options, but he knew what the most effective choice would be. “i won’t, but you can’t keep doing stuff like this, kiddo. it worries me.”
if there was anything you hated, it was that pet name. “i’m not a kid. i’m eighteen.”
“and thirty days,” sunghoon added dryly.
he said that like it meant something. you retorted, “what, are you keeping track?”
“i’m just good at quick math.”
you scoffed. it was probably true, considering all the things you saw him calculating when it came to complicated business things you never understood, but that didn’t make it any better. “okay. how old are you?” you asked knowingly.
“thirty-nine.”
“what’s thirty-nine minus eighteen?”
“twenty-one,” sunghoon answered without any forethought.
more than twice my age. you knew that. not that it was hard to figure out, but that wasn’t the point. at some point, you had become obsessed with those numbers, crafting a delicate list of reasons why it could never work with your stepfather. the age gap, the marriage, the this and the that.
but on the other hand, none of those things really mattered to you. you may have still been young, but you were an adult now. a legal adult.
“besides,” sunghoon continued, seemingly unaware of where your mind had wandered. “i’ll always worry about you, no matter how old you are.”
your heart did exactly what you didn’t want it to do, what you had been trying to fight against for god knows how long now; it soared.
if you weren’t regretting your night enough already, you definitely were by the time you went inside the house, realizing everything you had to do before you dropped into bed. “god, i have to shower and take off my makeup,” you grumbled, walking with a stammer.
sunghoon kicked his shoes off by the door and grabbed your hand, lest you fell and hurt yourself. “i’ll help you.”
your eyes flickered in surprise. “you don’t have to do that.”
“it’s okay,” sunghoon replied, already steering you upstairs. “you need some guidance.”
you didn’t know what he meant by that, or maybe you did and you were simply in denial, but you didn’t ask.
sitting you atop the counter in your bathroom, sunghoon picked out the pack of makeup wipes that were already sitting there and gently began to wipe your face, pushing a stray braid behind your ear. he seemed focused, eyes squinting and his thicks brows furrowing.
you were focused too, watching him intently the entire time. it was difficult to ignore the way your heart raced when he got so close, the way your body seared with heat when he touched your cheek. it wasn’t necessarily even affectionately, which only served to make you more disappointed in yourself.
but sometimes, when you were staring hard enough, much like right now, you noticed more than just how handsome he was. you noticed the little scrunch of his brows when he was concentrating, you noticed the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. when it was as quiet as it was right now, you could even hear his breathing almost as subtle as the faint scent of cologne on him that had worn throughout the day.
maybe it was somewhat obsessive, but you didn’t do it on purpose. sunghoon made it easy to tune the world out and ignore everything that wasn’t him.
after washing your face, sunghoon grabbed you something to wear and asked, “need anything else, doll?”
“no, daddy. i’ve got it,” you replied, grabbing a towel for your shower. the water was running behind the curtains. “thank you.”
sunghoon grinned softly and bent down to press his lips to your forehead in a tender kiss. “goodnight, baby,” he whispered.
“g’night, daddy.”
the door closed. you hated knowing that you were alone, that he wasn’t right there with you. at times, you got tempted to do things you used to do when you were younger, crawling into bed with him in the middle of the night, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. no matter how much you hated being separated.
you usually liked to milk time with him for all that it was worth, especially because he was always working. you stole the seat beside him at the dinner table, you watched him mend items in the house, and you spent a lot of time on the couch of his study when he was taking calls and doing paperwork.
once you had gotten redressed after your shower, you slipped into bed with a sigh. there was always tomorrow.
the cereal boxes were pushed too far back again.
you couldn’t reach them. even standing on your tippy toes, waving your hand aimlessly in hope of even scraping the damn corner of a box of cinnamon toast crunch, they were just too far. “ugh,” you whined, irritated.
sunghoon watched. his eyes were less on your challenging endeavor and more on the swell of your ass peeking from underneath your tiny nightgown as you rose off the heels of your feet onto your toes, noticing the way it jiggled when you stood normally again. there was a pang of guilt in his chest, watching you like that, but at the end of the day, sunghoon was just a man.
“i’ll get it,” sunghoon insisted, standing up from the bar to swing over without even having to ask which one you wanted. he routinely saw you only eat the same cereal.
you thanked him when he grabbed the box of cinnamon toast crunch and placed it securely into your hands. walking over to the counter where the milk and bowl were waiting, you noticed sunghoon come up behind you. at first, you thought he was just watching for whatever reason, so you ignored the thud in your chest at his proximity and poured the cereal.
then, you carefully grabbed the milk, not wanting to spill it accidentally. you had been guilty of that before. without warning, his hands dropped below your waist and cupped your cheeks, making your eyes go wide. “daddy,” you gasped out, bemused. “what are you doing?”
sunghoon shushed you, giving your neck a fleeting kiss before he shifted his attention back downwards, pushing your nightgown up so that it would bunch around your hips. “quiet,” he whispered.
“daddy, the milk,” you whined, having lost control of your grip when he touched you, catching you by surprise.
most of it had spilled out of its container, the bowl overflowing with streams of milk dripping off the counter that would stink if not cleaned soon enough. but some of it had splashed onto your face, chest and tummy. “shh,” sunghoon repeated. “don’t worry about it. you can milk something else.”
your face warmed in realization just as he began to press himself against you from behind, and the very big, very hard bulge in his pants made your mouth run dry.
or maybe it was the morning breath. because you woke up, sighing quietly at first, and turned to stretch your arm from underneath your blankets.
“what the fuck,” you grumbled a few minutes later when it dawned on you exactly what kind of dream you’d just had.
sure, you’d had dreams about sunghoon before, but they were nothing to write home about; they were entirely random and didn’t make logical sense, or they were simple and mundane, and very often, you didn’t realize they were dreams at first because they were so realistic that they could have been memories.
that was definitely a dream. you couldn’t imagine sunghoon doing anything like that to you. well, you certainly could, but that wasn’t the point. it wasn’t realistic whatsoever, other than him extending himself to help you.
it made you horny to think about. everything about the dream had physically felt so real to you; sunghoon’s hands on your ass, his bulge pressing against you from behind, and his warmth radiating onto you hotly enough to make you melt.
part of you was tempted to go back to bed, ignoring the faint chirps of birds outside your window and the light reaching through white and pink curtains. if only you could have stayed asleep a little longer, just to see how it ended. if only sunghoon would have ever felt that way about you too, then maybe it could become true.
but he wouldn’t. and even if he somehow did, sunghoon was at work by now. so you did the one you never thought you would do.
“hello?” jake said when he picked up the phone.
your heart sped. you were about to propose something that you were none too sure about, but something had to be done about the festering ache between your legs. your fingers weren’t satisfying you anymore; they hadn’t in years. “jake,” you whispered. “hi.”
“hi,” jake repeated dryly, wondering what you wanted. you could hear in his tone that he still wasn’t particularly thrilled about last night.
you swallowed the lump in your throat. “i’m sorry for running away last night,” you murmured. “i didn’t want to abandon you like that. i was just… scared.”
jake made a noise, but it was so quiet and distorted that you couldn’t decide what to make of it. “you were scared,” he replied, echoing your words again.
you gave a deep, prolonged exhale. you knew that you were running out of time with him, that one day, he would grow sick of your excuses and your stalling. “i knew that… you were trying to have sex,” you explained. “and i didn’t… i didn’t feel comfortable. i was drunk. and then you said we were going to heeseung’s room, and i got even more worried.”
“why?”
“i don’t like heeseung,” you admitted, although you thought it would be obvious by now. “he looks at me weird.”
“baby,” jake sighed. you could hear how frustrated he was. “heeseung’s not gonna hurt you. he just likes to have a little fun. but if it makes you feel better, i’ll try to keep him in line.”
you were only half relieved. “thank you.”
“now, is that why you called me? to tell me heeseung makes you uncomfortable?” he asked.
“no,” you stammered, playing with the hem of your shirt in attempt to distract yourself from your nerves. “there’s something else i wanted to tell you.”
“what is it, sweetheart?”
you blurted, “i think i’m ready.”
you could practically feel jake perk up. “like, seriously?” he asked, stunned.
“yeah,” you replied, but it weak. there was a bit of regret in your chest when the word left your mouth, but you tried to swallow it down and keep it there. “i’m ready, jake. right now.”
jake was ruffling through something, probably his drawer. “shit,” he said, excited. you wondered if his heart was beating even half as fast as yours was. “where are you right now?”
“home.”
“can i come over?”
“yeah,” you muttered again. he lived far enough that you had time to wash up a little and get your mind together. “my dad is at work and my mom probably won’t be home until later. it’s just me.”
“i’m on the way,” jake said without missing a beat, quickly hanging up.
you took a deep breath, trying to relax yourself. jake was your boyfriend. you were supposed to call him when you had needs; itches that needed scratching.
it was a conflict that had been warring in your mind for weeks, maybe subconsciously months. on the one hand, your lust was only centered around sunghoon and you were afraid of having sex with jake for more reasons than one. but on the other, the human desire for release had ran to a peak and now it was unignorable, your body begging to be satiated.
you knew what the most prudent choice would have been: dumping jake, getting over these unrational feelings for your stepfather, and no longer settling for men that treated you as less than what you deserved. but what did you look like being alone again, waiting for someone to decide they loved you, especially when your heart belonged to someone who could never be yours?
clearly, you were in no way in the position to make prudent choices. not when the need burning inside you outweighed the reason.
time went by faster than you thought, considering that jake didn’t particularly live nearby. you had spent the better half of that time in your own head, wondering what would happen, and the sound of the doorbell ringing jolted you out of your thoughts.
your heart was pounding with all its might as you made deliberately slow, steadys steps down the stairs and to the front door where you knew jake would be waiting. seeing his face when you opened the door only made you more anxious.
jake, on the other hand, beamed when he saw you. you weren’t sure if you had ever seen him smile at you like that before. “hey, baby,” he greeted, stepping inside.
“hi,” you murmured, shutting the door behind him.
jake coiled his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest. his alluring, familiar scent put you at ease a little more. “i missed you,” he whispered, fingers sliding underneath your shirt to draw patterns on your navel, almost as if he could sense your need for comfort. “you ran off on me last night.”
your smile was sheepish as you apologized again, “i’m sorry.”
“it’s okay. i know why you did it,” jake said, glancing around as you led him out of the foyer little by little. “i just realized i’ve never been inside your house.”
that was not only true, but intentional; for obvious reasons, you didn’t want to be in the house with jake by yourself, but you also didn’t want him around your parents, either. your mother would find some way to embarrass you and the few times sunghoon and jake had met, there was strange tension in the air.
based on your mother’s behavioral patterns and those interactions alone, you had made the unilateral decision that it would be better for everyone involved if you kept your relationship with jake outside. “yeah,” you said, happy to think about anything but what was to come. “it’s better that way, don’t you think?”
jake chuckled, nodding his head. when he saw the stairs, he instinctively started heading that way. “yeah. i don’t think your dad likes me very much.”
“he’s just protective,” you replied, although you remembered sunghoon telling you outright that he didn’t like your boyfriend.
“you don’t need protecting from me,” jake told you, slipping his hand down from your navel to your hand as you started up the steps. “have you been telling him mean things about me?”
define mean, was what you answered in your head. if anything, you had probably described jake too kindly, too gently. he had never hurt you, at least in the sense that he had never put his hands on you, but he was aggressive in other, more hurtful ways. “no, i told him the truth.”
“and what’s the truth?”
“that i love you,” you lied. “and i want to do this with you.”
jake looked like the happiest man alive, and something told you that it was unusual for him to be more enthusiastic in this moment than almost any other moment he’d spent with just the two of you. but the fear that had kept you close to him for so long was the same fear that had held you apart, and it was the same fear telling you to be silent.
but when jake opened the door to your bedroom, his face fell. “what’s all this?”
your brows furrowed. “…my bedroom?”
“yours?” jake echoed, apparently appalled as he scanned your bedroom from left to right.
the main culprit, however, seemed to be the miscellaneous plushies thrown about your bed. “oh,” you whispered, confused. your mother had found it childish and voiced her unwanted opinion every now and then, but you never thought it was so bad.
jake scoffed, “what are you, thirteen? i’m not fucking you on that.”
“but, jake,” you started, noticing him turning back around. your stomach churned. he was leaving.
shaking his head, jake threw the door open and said, “you really have to grow up, baby.”
you followed him, frantic. you knew he could your footsteps as you trailed behind him down the stairs, but he didn’t bother turning around, as if he had already decided he didn’t want to see you anymore. “jake, please don’t go,” you begged.
he didn’t listen. he didn’t even look at you, not until he made it to the front door and said, “goodbye,” followed by your name. then, he walked out the door, passing your mother on his way out.
as if this afternoon couldn’t get any worse.
as soon your mother stepped through the door, looking like she had been awake for the past twelve hours doing god knows what, she went, “really? you turn eighteen and think you can just do whatever you want? why the hell are you bringing boys over?”
you were already on the verge of tears and you didn’t have the strength to put up with her, so for the first time in your life, you chose to walk away. she called after you, demanding you to come back, but you ignored it and raced upstairs to your bedroom.
it hurt more than it should have, watching jake leave like that, watching him go despite your pleas. maybe because it felt all too familiar. your brain recognized the feeling belligerently attacking you and your heart weakly surrendered to it, still too broken.
maybe you were always too broken, maybe that was why they never stayed. this is what men do, you told yourself through hot, wet tears. they take what they want, and then when it becomes even a little too much for them, they leave. nothing will change that. they won’t change themselves.
sitting alone by yourself in your closed bedroom with only your stuffed toys to bear witness to your suffering, it still felt humiliating. you had already come to the conclusion that what you felt for jake was not love, at least not of a romantic nature. and yet for the life of you, you couldn’t wrap your head around why it still hurt so bad.
it was a dizzying, throbbing ache that only persisted the longer you sat on the carpeted floor, weeping. for a fleeting moment, you were twelve again, old enough to recognize your first heartbreak but not enough to put a name to it. you remembered like it was yesterday, watching your father’s back as he walked out of the door, hauling the last of what he would bring with him into his new life, and leaving you in the old chapter.
there was a certain shape of hopelessness that you’d molded into, the loud, petty arguments and traded hits culminating in the few seconds it took to realize that you didn’t mean as much as a toothbrush, a watch, a box of wrenches or an old, wrinkled tee. because if you had, maybe he would have taken you, too.
and maybe if you meant more to jake than what was between your legs, he would still be here now. denying him sex for so long made you feel powerful; he was wrapped around your finger at some point, submissive, so to speak, and willing to do anything with the hopes that you would give it up. you took advantage of that. you used him so that for once in your life, you could feel wanted and in control.
and as you had ultimately come to expect, your woeful thoughts soon wandered to the greatest manifestation of your desires so far: sunghoon. it only seemed just that the world would taunt and tantalize you with the most perfect man you’d ever known, the only one you could ever trust with your heart.
the cards had been dealt so that you had just enough access to admire how much of a dream he was, but not enough to let you slip away; you could doze off, vaguely picturing what it would be like in a world where the steep heights and pitless hollows of your affection could be reciprocated, but every time, you would be jolted back awake.
the more you thought about it, there had to be a reason why you seemed to want things more after coming to find there was no feasible way you could make them yours - because you wanted control.
control, particularly over your own life, was something you had long wanted yet long been denied. you wanted to be able to make decisions for yourself without having your circumstances be shaped around the decisions of others. you didn’t want to suffer the consequences of a choice you had no say in. you wanted to reap what was rightfully yours.
seeing someone like sunghoon, someone that you knew you could never have, only made him attractive tenfold. until now, you never noticed how this manifested similarly in other parts of your life, like in your overwhelming urge to prove yourself. to be the adult it seemed like everyone doubted you could be.
that’s why it’s so hard for me to accept denial and handle rejection, you rationalized as you peeled yourself off the floor and onto your bed, having finally stopped sobbing. because i’ve been denied simple pleasures my whole life, and yet people try to deny me even more.
thinking back to the little girl you once were, the one that was full of life and imagination, the one that foolishly had hoped her mother and father would stay together, the one that was innocent and naive, and knew nothing about how brutal reality truly was, you couldn’t help but burst into tears all over again.
because that little girl didn’t deserve to have to grow up so quickly. if you could have undone it all, if you could have spared that little girl the trauma of crying herself to sleep as she heard her parents arguing down the hall, if you could have stopped her dad from leaving for years, if you could have stopped her mom from inviting man to man into her life, you would have done it in a heartbeat.
and then there was the part of you that had always craved romance, the part of you that remained unfulfilled. combining this lifelong grapple with control with an unattainable lover, it was no secret why you wanted to prove the stars wrong.
just this once, you wanted to know that you deserved good things too.
after a long moment of drifting between the sickness in your mind that had been infecting your thoughts, you eventually cried yourself to sleep. it was something you hadn’t done in years, but when you woke up, you almost felt better.
you dragged yourself out of bed and slipped on your house shoes, trudging downstairs while mumbling prayers about how you hoped you wouldn’t bump into your mother. you knew she would give you an earful about earlier.
to your surprise, rather than your mother, sunghoon was in the kitchen. he turned when he heard your heavy footsteps. “hey, doll,” he said, shutting the refrigerator.
you grumbled a response and waved weakly, moving past the island so that you could join him near the refrigerator. you would have opened it yourself, but sunghoon beat you to it, handing you a water.
when your eyes widened a little in surprise, sunghoon snickered and asked, “what else do you drink?”
he had a good point there. it was rare you drank anything but water in the house, not that you had a specific reason for it. it was just a habit you hadn’t broken. “and what if i was hungry?” you asked playfully, accepting the water from his hands.
“you wouldn’t have touched the refrigerator, because you always get everything delivered.”
you gasped in mock offense. “hey, i cook sometimes!”
sunghoon chuckled. “yes, you do, doll. but i know not to expect you to cook anything if you look like you just crawled out of bed.”
you hummed, sitting down at the island and twisting the cap off the water. you didn’t realize how long you had been asleep, but it had to have been a while if sunghoon was home.
sunghoon followed you, sitting beside you. he didn’t say anything for a minute, wanting to carefully think over his words so that they came out as intended. “i went up to your room earlier to talk to you about something, but you were sleeping, so i left you alone.”
you glanced over at him, finishing your swig before you asked, “talk about what?”
“your mother wants me to address your… disobedience, as she puts it,” sunghoon started levelly.
you sighed, slamming your head against the counter. of course, she did. “i guess she told you jake was here earlier?”
“she did.”
you were almost certain that that woman just didn’t want you to breathe. she had been able to control you less and less over the years, and the more you resisted, the more determined she seemed. like mother, like daughter. “well, it’s your house. if you don’t want me to have boys over, then fine, i respect that. but she doesn’t have the right to police me.”
“it’s not just the boy,” sunghoon replied, although he had his own set of grievances about that. “she feels like you’re becoming rebellious in general.”
you almost rolled your eyes. “and why couldn’t she tell me that herself?”
sighing, sunghoon said, “because she pointed out that you only seem to listen to me, not her.”
“yeah, because it’s surprising i’m more inclined to obey someone who knows how to have an actual conversation than someone who just wants to yell and doesn’t care to hear me,” you retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “daddy, she’s been trying to control my life since forever. i’m sick of it.”
“i know how you feel, doll, but you haven’t exactly been making smart choices lately, either,” sunghoon answered gently, resting a hand on your knee. “like your boyfriend, for example.”
“i told you, i don’t like him.”
sunghoon didn’t skip a beat. “and i asked you, why are you dating him, then?”
“god, you just don’t get it,” you grumbled, opening your water bottle to take another large gulp.
“then, explain it to me,” sunghoon said gently, eyes meeting yours with a reservoir of adoration. “make me get it. i’m here to listen to you, baby girl. i want to understand you, but i can’t do that if you don’t let me in.”
but you couldn’t let him in, not that far, because then he would see something that startled him. it was easier to break your own heart over and over than it was to risk his opinion of you changing, all for some closure. “i don’t want to talk about it.”
sunghoon heaved a breath. he absolutely despised when you froze him out. he wasn’t stupid; he noticed that you were only this less forthcoming when it came to the topic of your boyfriend that he couldn’t understand for the life of him why you kept seeing. every time he thought he’d had a productive conversation with you about him, sunghoon heard something else about that boy.
something more infuriating than the last.
you stood up from the barstool, an idle box of cereal on top of the refrigerator catching your eye as you did, and you remembered the dream you’d had about him that inspired everything to happen today. “i love you, daddy,” you whispered, throwing your arms around him. “thank you for trying.”
you believed him, you truly did, but it hurt to think that he was the only man that would ever say that to you and mean it. “i know.”
sunghoon placed a hand on his shoulder before you could leave, hoping to get one more sentence in. “i know it’s not easy for you, doll, but can you try to appease your mother every now and then? for me?”
you stifled a sigh, nodding your head. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do, daddy,” you murmured.
sunghoon smiled softly and pat your shoulder.
for the next couple of days, you pathetically waited by your phone, hoping to hear from jake again. normally, he would text you the day or two after an unresolved argument, apologizing profusely until you gave him a satisfactory answer.
or in other words, until you forgave him. but on the third day, you knew something was wrong. you hadn’t even argued, and yet he was ignoring your existence as if you had committed the most unjustifiable crime against humanity ever recorded.
this is really it, you thought fretfully, heart swelling with dread. he doesn’t want me anymore.
you tried to act like it didn’t hurt, like he didn’t wield this immense power over you, but you knew you were lying to yourself. and that jake had lied to you. he had said that you could never disappoint him, after all, but you were fairly certain that ship had sailed.
it was half past noon when you noticed a notification on your phone from one of your friends, an attachment with a text that read, hey, did you break up with jake? just asking because someone sent me a photo of him kissing another girl yesterday night.
surely enough, the attached image was of jake swallowing some other girl’s face, blurry in quality, but you knew your boyfriend’s face when you saw it. he had his hands round her waist, holding her close exactly like how he’d held you, only it seemed like it’d been so long since he’d touched you like that.
only one minute ago, you had been convinced that you had no more tears left to cry. staring at the image, pieces of your wounded heart dropping heavily to your stomach, you didn’t realize you were crying until the phone went black by itself and you faintly saw your reflection in its screen, mirroring you.
whatever had happened between you and jake the other day, you didn’t consider it a breakup. it was your understanding that you were still together, given that he hadn’t necessarily said something to indicate the opposite. maybe you were mistaken, but that didn’t make it feel like anything less of a betrayal.
but to call it a betrayal implied some level of trust, a level deeper than you thought you had possessed. your feelings for jake were complicated, but you knew that you had trusted him not to stab you in the back the second it was turned. you had trusted him to take care of you, to protect you. you had trusted him not to hurt you.
now that you thought about it, you weren’t sure why. the past couple of weeks alone had been hell, his advances becoming more frequent than ever now that you had turned eighteen, and he had always shown signs of wavering. but you ignored them. you were desperate to fill the void left behind by every man you’d ever loved.
torn from head to toe with the sting of emotion, you pushed open your bedroom door and went straight for your parents room. fortunately, it was empty, neither of them home to watch you sulk; the last thing you wanted was for your stepfather to see you sobbing over a boy he hated, and for your mother to say that she told she so.
the first place you touched was the closet, where you knew sunghoon kept his hoodies. you missed him. you missed him in ways you’d never genuinely known him, or felt him, or possessed him. perhaps it would have made more sense to say that you longed for him, but in your heart, those moments you’d dreamt of felt real sometimes.
taking one of his cozy, black hoodies down from where they hung, you hurriedly threw it on, quickly engulfed by its size. it was comforting. the smell was, too. if you closed your eyes, you could pretend that sunghoon was there, holding you in his arms and whispering in your ear that everything would be okay in the end.
you pinched the loose material of the hoodie that was dropping around your body as you sat on the floor and held it to your nose, eyes fluttering closed. he had been wearing it around the house a lot lately. you were very fond of the way he smelled. it was heavenly and masculine, but also safe and familiar.
it was uniquely his own, and, breathing in the scent of sunghoon, you exhaled calmly, pretending that he could want you.
his scent had another effect on you, too. it made you feral, to say the least. though you were mostly used to it, when you saw him for the first time after a while, it made you feel like a ferocious animal, hungry with lust and ready to pounce.
for a moment, you tried to be stronger. you tried to pull yourself together and remind yourself that this man was your stepfather, the man who was married to your mother. but the shame could only contend with the gravity of want for so long until one finally emerged triumphant.
you pulled the hoodie over your head and stared at it for a second, like you were giving yourself one final chance to not do something you’d regret, but lust prevailed over reason.
with nothing to hold you back, you wiggled out of your favorite pair of tiny house shorts, temporarily tossing them aside. you grabbed a hold of the hoodie and bunched it into shape between your thighs, slowly rocking your hips into it.
your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to think of something that would help get you off, every thought you were capable of developing revolving around your stepfather. what most of them had in common, however, was the vivid picture of sunghoon on top of you, weight crushing you hard as he rutted into you nice and deep.
it was too arousing to think about, what he would feel like buried so many inches deep inside you, face tensing as he fucked you with total abandon. you wanted him to lose self restraint, to whisper in your ear that he loved you, that he wanted you, that he needed you. and only you.
your needy hips moved faster. the muscles in your thighs were spasming, your whole body alive with the sparks of desire that were killing you slowly. breathy pants escaped your mouth, your jaw slacking as your body worked harder to exhale. you couldn’t breathe through the thick, muddled haze of your uncontrollable hunger.
how could you? the mere sight of sunghoon made your heart hammer sometimes, because it knew what it wanted. your entire body, at this point, knew what it wanted, but more importantly, it knew what it needed. you couldn’t shake the idea that sunghoon was good for you. that he was meant for you.
maybe thinking of sunghoon as some exquisite gift sent from the gods as a reward for enduring so much in so little time, rather than a titillating manifestation of everything you wanted but could never have, was merely an extreme sign of desperate coping, but you couldn’t help yourself. you deserved him, more than your mother ever would.
you could make him feel so good, if he only gave you the chance. if he only let loose for a moment and let himself indulge in the wonders between your legs that called out for him and sang his name. you didn’t know what you were thinking, almost letting another man claim what was so surely his, even if he didn’t know it yet.
one of your hands pushed up your skirt and you squeezed your breasts, imagining it was sunghoon’s bigger, stronger hand instead. your hips were now moving with a mind of their own, rough pants getting louder, and you thought of sunghoon touching you with just as much fervor and need. it felt more like you were hoping.
the heat in your core finally reached its peak and you orgasmed with a shaky moan, trying to milk the high for all it was worth, but the relief disappeared just as quickly as it had come. you sighed, hole throbbing emptily, and you inspected the hoodie for any signs of your arousal leaking through your underwear.
you pushed it aside and lied down on the floor, catching your breath as you tried to shake the guilt. you hated how much of a slave you were to this insatiable need, sinning in return for only a fleeting second of relief. but more than that, you hated settling. if you had it your way, sunghoon would have been fucking you every night.
the thought made your thighs clench against each other. sometimes, you foolishly hoped sunghoon would come into your room at night and ravage you in your sleep, fucking you awake. you knew he was so tired when he came home from work. he deserved to come home to a young, tight hole. and he deserved to use it whenever he wanted, however he wanted.
knees kicking up, your eyes shifted underneath your parents’ bed, and you noticed something hidden underneath. your curiosity got the better of you and you reached out to grab it. a tiny box came into your hands, and for a moment, you just looked at it, wondering what was inside.
there was no better way to find out than having a look yourself. you figured it was sunghoon’s, given that it was on his side of the bed, and that knowledge only made you want to open it more; you were itching to know everything about him.
your brows furrowed when you opened the box. the first thing you saw was a picture of a teenaged girl, maybe about thirteen or fourteen. you were confused about why he had it, but there were more pictures stacked beneath. the more you glanced through them, the more you realized she looked a little too much like sunghoon.
those cute, deep dimples, his deep, honey eyes, and his peachy, plump lips. you gasped, coming to only one reasonable conclusion: this was his daughter. but if true, why had you never seen her, or heard him speak about her?
you had to assume that he loved her. for one, he was keeping pictures and belongings of her beneath his bed. other than the photos, you saw a necklace with an initial that wasn’t his own, a charm bracelet, a bottle of feminine perfume and other items. a part of you felt like this was something you weren’t supposed to see, and out of respect, you put everything back just as you had found it and slid the box underneath the bed.
it felt like a violation of privacy and there was a pang of regret in your chest, but you couldn’t help but have questions. though sunghoon would be coming home later than usual tonight, so even if you somehow mustered the courage to ask him, it would be a while before you got the opportunity.
you reached out to grab your shorts and put them back on. the only thing left for you to take care of was sunghoon’s hoodie, which you weren’t sure what to do with. you could have put it back as if nothing had ever happened, but you would have felt bad if you didn’t wash it.
so, you did. mostly everything you did from that point on was to distract yourself from thinking about sunghoon. every now and then, you remembered what had happened with jake and there was a throbbing ache in your chest, but you pushed the thoughts away.
it was easier to think about sunghoon, to wonder how many things you really knew about him, this man that had taken on the role of father for the past five years of your life. after all, it was never him coming to you for advice on life, but you supposed that made sense. he was older than you, had gone through many of the things you were experiencing for the first time, and had the benefit of hindsight.
still, you were curious about him and the many years that had shaped him into the person he was now. were they kind? every person had their fair share of hardships and encounters with adversity, at least in some fashion, but you hoped he’d had it relatively easy. you knew what it was like to suffer and you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy, much less him.
the efforts to distract yourself went on for so long that you even ended up making dinner, considering that your mother wasn’t home for whatever reason and you figured sunghoon would be hungry when he came back; you were hungry, and you hadn’t even done anything but think about him excessively.
like clockwork, sunghoon came in through the foyer and went to the kitchen, spotting you putting the finishing touches on dinner. “you’re cooking?”
you laughed at his surprise and nodded your head, turning off the stove. “i’m basically finished now,” you chirped, donning oven mittens. “i told you, i cook sometimes.”
sunghoon leaned against the counter, watching you take a pan out of the oven. “smells good,” he commented, humming in approval. “is your mother home?”
“nope,” you replied, setting the pan down on the stove. you had no idea where she was, nor did you care as long as she was safe.
“mm.”
you turned around to face sunghoon, taking a deeper look at him. he looked tired, exhausted even. you knew he would always deny how bad it was, though. “hungry?”
sunghoon bobbed his head and set a hand on his stomach. “starving.”
you and sunghoon sat down at the table beside each other and ate dinner, talking in between bites. your heart warmed to see how delighted he was while eating, the smile on his face at the first spoonful putting one on yours. your relationship with your mother had always been strained, but you had to thank her for teaching you how to cook.
while you had contemplated bringing up what you had seen earlier during dinner, every time you tried willing yourself to mention it to sunghoon, you got nervous and didn’t follow through. it wasn’t like it was something you were supposed to know about and you knew that by mentioning it, you would be telling on yourself.
not only that, but you didn’t know how sunghoon would feel about telling you about it, or if he would even want to talk about it. the last thing you wanted to do was overstep your boundaries, which was something you probably had already done the second you went into his bedroom and pried into his personal belongings.
after the dishes were washed, something sunghoon volunteered to help you take care of, you followed him into the living room where he usually went to relax after work. you managed to stay quiet for all of fifteen minutes before the guilt overwhelmed you and you apologized, “i’m sorry.”
sunghoon turned his attention way from the television to look at you, brows furrowing. “for what?”
you swallowed the lump in your throat. you could have gotten away with it, but it didn’t feel right not to mention. “i went into your room today.”
sunghoon didn’t mind you being in his bedroom, but it was unusual that you were there when you had your own. “why?”
you smiled anxiously, fidgeting with your hands. that was the important part. you left out what you had done with the hoodie, deciding he didn’t need to know that. “i just did,” you replied, your voice quiet. “but that’s not the part i’m apologizing for. i saw something under your bed. and, i looked through it.”
sunghoon’s face changed, something more melancholy tensing his features. “oh.”
“i’m sorry,” you repeated, faint. the look on his face made you feel even more guilty than you already had.
sunghoon pat the top of your head, as if he knew that you needed the reassurance. “it’s okay,” he said, smiling thinly. “i guess you have questions now, don’t you?”
you nodded reluctantly. those questions were essentially all you had thought about it since you discovered that box underneath his bed. “i do, but… you don’t need to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”
“it’s alright,” sunghoon replied, exhaling. that shroud of melancholy was still hanging over him. “she was my daughter.”
your heart stopped. “…was?”
for a moment, sunghoon was silent and he didn’t immediately respond. you wondered if you had said the wrong thing, overthinking everything you were doing. he exhaled yet another breath and replied, “she passed away six years ago. car accident.”
that explained everything, but now you felt worse than you had before and it was killing you. “daddy…”
it looked like it pained him to talk about it, but he did it anyway. “i was married before i met your mother,” he explained. “everything was good. we had a few problems, but hey, no marriage is completely perfect. my ex-wife took our daughter out and they were coming back home when they got into a car accident. she wasn’t paying attention. she lived; our daughter didn’t.”
you were silent. you didn’t know what to say.
tensing a little, sunghoon continued, “we had a divorce because i blamed her, and i couldn’t stand to be around her anymore. i don’t think i can ever forgive her for being so reckless.”
“i wish that never happened to you, daddy. you didn’t deserve that,” you said compassionately.
“you lost someone, too.”
the thought of your father left a sour taste, and to be frank, you never wanted to think about him again. “yeah, my dad left me, but at least the bastard’s still alive. if i wanted to talk to him, i could. but you don’t have that option.”
sunghoon’s eyes flitted over you and he reached out to push your hair out of your face. “that’s why i want to protect you, doll. you mean more to me than you will ever know.”
there your heart went again, acting a fool at the smallest words and actions. “you mean a lot to me, too.”
after much internal wavering, sunghoon reluctantly confessed, “i was never going to tell you this, but when i met your mother, part of what i liked about her was that she had a daughter. just a year younger than my daughter would be. and i wanted her back. i wanted her back so badly. so to me, it felt like god was giving me a second chance.”
your eyes flickered. you had always wondered what it was he liked about your mother in the first place. they made a strange pair; he seemed so different from her type, and his personality was much softer than hers. “really?”
“that’s why i tried so hard in the beginning to grow on you. even though it couldn’t have been more obvious that you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he told you lightheartedly.
you giggled, remembering how much you had been against your mother getting married to this man you barely knew. “you’re a great father,” you whispered. “thank you for not giving up halfway.”
“i’ll never give up on you.”
you were beaming. “i know.”
this conversation had taken a different direction than you had initially expected, but ultimately, you were happy with it. you had been so afraid of him getting upset with you, and though it would have been justified, you knew rationally that it just wasn’t in his nature.
at least, not when it came to you. you had noticed the anger bristling within him when he spoke of the mother of his child; it made you angry on his behalf. but even then, sunghoon’s anger was nothing like the kind you had grown up surrounded with. it wasn’t loud, aggressive, or dangerous. it was quiet, composed, restrained.
much like the rest of him.
in the time that you had spent thinking about sunghoon’s life and all the secrets it contained, you had figured something out about yourself. “i’m going to break up with jake,” you announced.
though he didn’t expect the topic change, sunghoon couldn’t hide his relief. “what took you so long?”
you chuckled, because that was a good question, to be fair. “well, for one, at least to my knowledge, he hadn’t cheated on me until now,” you retorted.
the anger was back, only this time, you swore it had a more hostile air to it than ever. “he did what?” sunghoon exclaimed.
you shrugged your shoulders. it wasn’t that it didn’t bother you, because it did. come to think about it, it mostly hurt because you would have never done the same thing to him, no matter how much you lusted after your stepfather.
taking a deep, frustrated breath, you explained, “yeah. long story short, when he came over the other day, it was because i had agreed to have sex with him. but when he saw my room for the first time, he basically called me childish and said he wasn’t doing it there. then he marched out.”
sunghoon shook his head, but he wasn’t surprised. at least you had enough self-respect to end it now. he was starting to become afraid that he would need to shake some sense into you.
jake had served a purpose. he was unbelievably handsome, undoubtedly smart, and told you everything that you wanted to hear. he distracted you from what you were really after, and in return, you ignored what he was really after.
there was a large part of you that felt ashamed for lying to yourself for so long. but now you were being honest. you owed yourself that much. “i was so stupid. part of the reason i didn’t want to have sex with him was because i wanted him to stay, and i wasn’t sure if he would still choose me afterwards. i was scared he would get what he wanted and leave. but the reason i agreed to have sex with him was because i could feel him getting bored and pulling away. and in the end, he left me anyway.”
you had already decided you weren’t going to hold it against him, because you were both guilty of something. you had lied to each other, taken advantage of each other, and bled dry each other. both of you had tried to force something that was never really there. you would never forgive him for cheating, but you could understand him leaving.
sunghoon listened intently, watching your face as you talked about your relationship and what went wrong. he picked out his words, not wanting to be blinded by his lack of disappointment. “you’re not stupid for wanting someone to like you.”
your eyes met his. i want you to like me, you thought to yourself, wishful. “am i stupid for staying even though i knew deep down that it wasn’t really me that he liked?”
“no, doll,” sunghoon replied gently, bracing a hand on your knee. “you’re just disillusioned.”
you chuckled. “you sure you’re not just saying that?”
sunghoon squeezed your knee, giving you comfort that he knew you needed. it would be complicated, you already knew, coping with your feelings for him now that you wouldn’t have jake’s shenanigans to distract you. not that they really ever helped. “you’re young. even your mind has a mind of its own. i think it’s only stupid if you make the same mistake twice.”
you hummed, knowing that that probably wouldn’t be happening. you weren’t the type of person to jump from relationship to relationship. you were too afraid of abandonment for that. you could only handle so many of them before you snapped.
as sunghoon looked at you, he couldn’t help but feel guilty, thinking maybe he should have done more to keep you safe from a boy like that. but you were an adult now, and he was trying to give you the space to take care of yourself on your own. “did you ever really like jake?” he asked after a pause.
“i think i just liked feeling wanted,” you murmured, ashamed of your own stupidity.
sunghoon let that sink in. he knew you had been dealing with certain insecurities for years, and the thought that he still had yet been able to help you made him feel worthless. “what kind of boyfriend do you want?”
there was a lull of silence as you thought about it thoroughly. you had liked jake because you thought he could be everything you should have wanted, but he wasn’t necessarily your type. “someone who’s tender,” you decided, something jake selectively was. “someone who’s assertive, protective, and takes care of me.”
“mm.”
your heart was racing, but somehow you found the courage to add, “someone like you.”
sunghoon tried to rationalize that, he truly did. in his mind, the idea of wanting someone who embodied the traits of a strong father figure was a perfectly normal desire. but he wasn’t an idiot, and he could hear everything you didn’t say, and recognize the sudden change in your body language.
because you didn’t want a boyfriend; you wanted a father.
sighing, sunghoon relaxes his eyes for a second before he opens them again, taking in how fragile you appear and feel beneath his heavy hands. “doll, you’re my daughter.”
“stepdaughter,” you corrected in a heartbeat.
sunghoon ignored you, continuing, “and you’re so young.”
“i’m eighteen,” you replied, heart thudding so fast you couldn’t stay still. “i’m an adult.”
sunghoon didn’t seem pleased, or convinced for that matter. it was as you feared; he would always see you as this little girl that needed saving. “you may legally be an adult,” sunghoon started, quiet. “but mentally, you are still a little girl.”
that stung. you never knew sunghoon was capable of it until now, but he had really burned you with such few words. your eyes even burned with the threat of tears. “if that’s how you feel,” you murmured, standing up from the sofa.
sunghoon softened, immediately regretting having ever said anything. “doll, wait.”
you didn’t, making a beeline straight for the stairs. you weren’t sure what you were expecting. he thought of himself as your father and he was married to your mother. why would he see you like that?
why did you see him like that?
to make matters worse, sunghoon didn’t follow you. you didn’t turn around, but the lack of footsteps behind you wasn’t lost on your ears. pretending it didn’t bother you, you went to your bedroom, shut the door, and dropped on your bed.
maybe you should have been grateful that your biggest problem in life was unreciprocated feelings. you knew there were all too many things you had to be grateful for, especially things sunghoon provided for you, like education and a nice home and fatherly love. there was no good reason to expect more than that from him. maybe you were just greedy.
or maybe you were needy. at worst, you were a little bit of both, but that wasn’t completely your fault. when bred from incompetence and instability, no one could rationally expect anything but insanity. if no one had ever given you a fair chance at normalcy, then no one could expect you to know how to reinvent yourself into something ordinary.
it was just so exhausting to be continuously rejected, because you were too this or not enough of that. you never knew how to be what anyone wanted. you never knew how to make anyone stay. just once, you wanted someone to care for you the same way you cared about them, and nothing less.
just when you were beginning to accept that you were hopeless, there was a knock on your door. wiping at your eyes, you reluctantly called out, “it’s open.”
sunghoon came in, shutting the door behind him, heart clenching in his chest when he noticed your reddening eyes. “calm down yet?” he asked.
you shrugged your shoulders, but murmured, “i don’t know if i’ll ever calm down.”
he could tell that you didn’t just mean the exchange downstairs; no, whatever storm was raging and rushing within you unbeknownst to him, it was only festering. “i try not to say the wrong things,” sunghoon said, slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of your bed.
you knew that. it was something you had come to like about him. he was careful, loving. it was never his intention to hurt anyone. but he was only human, and humans made mistakes and had lapses in judgment. “maybe you weren’t wrong. maybe i’m just immature.”
“maybe a little bit,” sunghoon told you, frank, but lighthearted. “but i could have said it a little better.”
you rolled your eyes, almost feeling better already. but the faint echo in your heart had yet to cease. “you don’t need to sugarcoat everything for me all the time, you know.”
sunghoon hummed. you were saying that, but he knew that he could break you into pieces if he wanted. tinier, more insignificant pieces than the ones you already were broken into. but he wouldn’t. he was realizing the full scope of power he wielded over you, and now that he knew, he wanted to be cautious. “i think i understand you now.”
your eyes leapt up to his face, almost like you were begging for that to be true. “what do you mean?”
“why you do the things you do,” sunghoon continued, dabbing at a tear that had fallen down your cheeks. “you don’t want a boyfriend. you want a father.”
saying nothing, you fidgeted with your thumbs and held your breath. you weren’t used to having your heart laid flat on the table.
sunghoon stopped you, setting his palm on the back of your hand. “you want me,” he said, making you wish you could disappear. “and that’s why you kept saying that you didn’t really want jake, but never explained to me why you kept dating.”
you leaned your head on his shoulder. “i love you so much, daddy.”
sunghoon’s heart was pounding in ways it hadn’t in a long time. “i know you do, baby girl. but you know that this isn’t right.”
“i don’t care.”
sunghoon sighed. “i’ve known you since you were thirteen, doll.”
“so? am i thirteen right now?”
“no, but you’re barely legal.”
“i’m legal. you don’t need to put unnecessary adverbs in front of it. i’m not some kid, daddy.”
there was no doubt that sunghoon was trying to change your mind, hoping to say something that would make you realize how foolish this was. too bad for him, you were too far gone. “your mother…,” he started.
“i don’t care,” you repeated a little harsher. “you told me yourself, you basically married her for me. and all she does is leech off you. i know it and you know it. we don’t even know where she is right now. say that you love her more than you love me, say it!”
“i don’t like your tone right now, doll,” sunghoon told you, stern, but level.
obeying the silent command in his voice, you quietened, murmuring, “i’m sorry, daddy.”
sunghoon sighed, stuck between a rock and a hard place. he put a hand on your thigh. “but you’re right. i do love you more.”
“then, prove it,” you whispered, inviting him. daring him. prove that you love me. prove that you’re just as sick as i am. prove to me that i have you in every way, that i’m not alone.
sunghoon knew that he shouldn’t. he was considering everything you had failed to acknowledge - your mother, his marriage, proper morality, and the fate of his relationship with you. but where he had been ignorant to your fermenting feelings, he hadn’t failed to notice exactly how much you had grown up.
the way your body had matured. the way you’d began coordinating your signature scents into something that was indisputably yours. the way your taste in fashion had changed from fluffy, pink skirts to short ones that were one wrong move away from flashing your plush cheeks and the cute, thin fabric of your underwear clinging tightly onto your cunt it just hardly concealed.
sunghoon had, too, noticed, and been rather fond of, how you were usually the meekest thing in the world only for him. with enough conditioning, in a world that was darker, he could put a gun in your hand and turn you into his little obedient vixen. you just wanted to heal him, please him, satisfy him.
but it would be wrong. and sunghoon had once prided himself on the fact that he did everything right. he got the most compelling grades in school to prove that he had genuine smarts to pair with his wealth, he went to a top university and worked hard, he got a job straight after graduation, met who he thought was the perfect woman, married her, bought a opulent house with her, and had a beautiful daughter with her.
so what if he still had to repeat a couple of steps, and so what if he had messed up on a few? at least he didn’t mess up on you. the only thing he regretted when it came to you was not completely noticing, not doing more to keep you from struggling.
you were more than just a reclaim of what he had lost. sunghoon didn’t think of his first daughter when he thought of you, not anymore. with you getting older and growing into your own person, your own way of life, it was difficult to see her in you. so, he accepted you as your own person, and in turn, he let go.
but that fact didn’t make him feel any less guilty or conflicted. you were still his stepdaughter, and you trusted him to protect you. your mother trusted him to protect you. everybody trusted him to guide you, steer you, lead you.
looking into his brown, troubled eyes, you instantly knew what it meant. he needed some persuasion, something to hinder his overthinking.
“please,” you pleaded, resting a hand on his lower abdomen just as gingerly as the way he handled you in mind and in body. he was still in his work shirt, broad shoulders catching your eye as you succumbed to the urge to rub your smooth palms over them.
look at you, begging him to fuck you. gazing up at him with those big, hopeful eyes with a shimmer that was so sweetly sparkling he almost mistook it as innocent. but he knew better. those were eyes that hoped for corruption, that sought comfort in destruction, and that were molded into the puppet of pain.
you lowered your hand again, stopping just shy of his crotch hidden by his work pants. fumbling with the fly, you looked into his eyes, searching for something. any indication that he was resisting. but you only saw him watching like even he didn’t know what he wanted.
it was surprising. you had been half expecting him to put his hand over yours and stop you, to remind you again that this was wrong and he didn’t see you how you saw him, but he just kept his eyes focused on you as if he was trying to see just how far you would go.
testing the waters, you undid his pants and went straight for his cock, the sound of a strained grunt making your cunt clench around emptiness. it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. you had imagined pulling those sounds out of sunghoon, closed your eyes and immersed yourself in a resewn fabric of another reality, but nothing measured up to hearing it for yourself.
sunghoon knew that things were rapidly approaching the point of no return and he groaned, “doll…”
“make me stop,” you whispered, gently wrapping your fingers around him and moving your hand in a relaxed motion. “make me stop, daddy.”
it wasn’t for lack of trying. sunghoon closed his eyes, wanting to will himself to be the rational person in the room since you had forwent reason entirely, but the second your small, supple hands tightened around his shaft, he knew he had failed.
he didn’t want you to stop. and you you didn’t want to stop, either.
you beamed victoriously, his silence being a telltale sign that he had succumbed to the same infectious wanting that had long plagued you. you moved your hand only a little faster, endeavoring to stroke him hard. it seemed that with every touch and movement of your wrist, his breathing was growing louder, more labored.
when he was fully hard, you had to suck in a gasp. you weren’t sure how you were going to fit every inch of him inside you, and the only thing that seemed clear was that you had your work cut out for you. nevertheless, you still wanted to make him feel good, so you glanced up at him and said sweetly, “tell me what to do. teach me, daddy.”
you caught a quiet, “fuck,” from underneath sunghoon’s breath as he heard what you had said, on the verge of losing his mind altogether, and it was doing unmistakable damage to his psyche. doing the right thing was no longer an option. all that was left was ache and need. without it, you didn’t know who you were.
releasing a shaky breath, sunghoon brushed his thumb against your bottom lip with affection and whispered, “take it in your mouth. go slow and gentle.”
you nodded your head obediently, opening your mouth just wide enough to fit his girth between your parted lips. the first inch was fine; the second inch had its complications, given that you hadn’t adjusted to the pressure of his cock in your mouth and breathing through your nose. by the third, you folded, withdrawing.
“i’m sorry,” you murmured, feeling like you should have at least been able to do that much.
sunghoon shook his head, smiling, and smoothed a hand through your hair. “that’s okay, baby,” he said, understanding. “try again.”
you sucked him into your mouth again, right between your lips, cheeks hollowed and everything, but for some odd reason, you couldn’t relax. you already felt like you were about to gag and it was only the first couple of inches. when you tried to take another, you had to pull back again.
there was a faint burning in the back of your throat. you didn’t even notice that a few tears had fallen from one of your eyes until you pulled your mouth off. you frowned, unable to shake the fear that you would disappoint him somehow if you couldn’t do it.
“you’re okay,” sunghoon reassured you, patting your head. “you’re okay, doll. i promise.”
with another nod, you decided to give it one more go, determined. not only because you wanted to prove yourself, but because you wanted to make him feel good. you couldn’t think of anyone that deserved it more than he did.
this time, sunghoon held your hair comfortably behind your head and caressed the strands as you tried to pleasure him once more, accepting what you could into your mouth bit by bit. you were less tense than before and it enabled you to concentrate on breathing and not overwhelming yourself too quickly.
afraid that you would gag again if you tried to take another inch, you decided to use your hand to take care of the remaining amount that wouldn’t fit. fortunately, it seemed to work; your mouth kept one part of him company, and your hands moved to prevent the other from becoming too neglected.
sunghoon moaned, curses falling here and there. you could feel the wetness soiling your underwear and he hadn’t even done anything yet. his voice was low and deep, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. minute by minute, you became more and more aware of how aroused you were, and your mind, friend and foe, tempted you with pictures of what it would be like to finally have sunghoon inside.
to your surprise, sunghoon cautiously pried you off his cock, making you look up at him and wonder if you had done something wrong, but all he said was, “i don’t want to come yet.”
your thighs squeezed together in excitement. if not now, then later. and if not in your mouth, then hopefully deep, deep inside.
“daddy,” you called out, somewhat timid. “are you gonna fuck me?”
sunghoon was maybe a few seconds away from short-circuiting and it was admirable that he hadn’t done so already, all things considered. he didn’t reply immediately, having to catch his breath. “do you want me to?”
“yes,” you replied in a heartbeat.
the room felt hot, and sunghoon couldn’t tell if it was real or it was in his head. “say it.”
it was a little awkward for you to say it so bluntly, but given that you had come this far, you might as well. “i want you to fuck me, daddy.”
sunghoon grunted and said something that sounded like, “come here,” as he gingerly pulled you off your knees and back onto your mattress. before you even blinked, he was pressing his lips to yours, enveloping them in a sweet, fiery kiss.
it felt like a daydream. maybe because you had dreamed of him before and this captured the exact floaty, cloudlike feeling of his arms cushioning your body in a dream, only the speeding thud in your heart making it undeniably real.
you couldn’t liken it to any kiss that you and jake had shared. while you would admit that jake was objectively a good kisser, almost everything you did together lacked passion; there was no spark behind even the most tender of touches. and yet somehow just being this close to sunghoon made your whole body scorch with the fever of suppressed want.
sunghoon slowly forced himself away and began to descend down your body, tugging your shorts down your thighs. heat filled your cheeks when his fingers hooked under your underwear next, but you raised your hips so that he could pull them off. what caught you by surprise, however, was when his tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh.
you gasped, a jolt making your body snap. “wait, daddy, you don’t need to. i’m already wet enough.”
that you were. sunghoon could see plain as day how your wet folds glistened with an arousal that had been building longer than he could ever imagine, gone ignored and neglected no longer. “i know,” he grunted out. “i want to.”
then without another word, sunghoon went to town. he started slow, gentle; his larger hands were firm on your plush thighs as he held them apart, almost as if he expected you to eventually resist him. for now, though, there was no need; he was tasting your devotion on his tongue, in no apparent hurry to let this moment end.
your breaths were becoming increasingly heavy, and a part of you still couldn’t believe that this was really happening - sunghoon was in between your legs, prepared to make you seen every star that hung in the night sky. you did what you could to commit the sight to memory, refusing to let it get away.
sunghoon wanted to see you unravel. you nearly died when he pressed his tongue deep inside you, abruptly tearing a sweet cry out of your mouth. the muscle wandered over your walls, savoring what he would feel soon enough. but for now, he was more than content to gather every bit of your arousal on the very tip of his tongue and make you feel sensations unimagined.
“god, you taste so good, baby,” sunghoon groaned, hands clamping tightly around your thighs. “so goddamn good.”
it was from that moment forward he lost control; his self-restraint broke; he was consumed with abandon. sunghoon licked and sucked at your bundle of nerves, drawing out more noises than before. your hips jerked as you laid sprawled out before him, entirely at his mercy.
just the way you always wanted.
“does that feel good, baby?” sunghoon pulled away for the shortest second to ask. “do you want me to slow down?”
you shook your head, hands desperately fisting the sheets. “no, please. don’t slow down. down stop,” you begged.
hearing you say that only made sunghoon harder, but he was still a man with some inhibitions if it meant drawing out the pleasure you felt at his hands. “just tell me if you need me to switch things up, okay?”
then he went back to work. this time he steadily worked two fingers into you, and you knew without a shred of doubt that you were positively ruined. they were long and thick, much more compared to yours; you would probably feel his cock for days to come.
you could feel yourself devolving into pure madness. sunghoon’s fingers were working you open at the same time his tongue flicked over your clit, and you could hardly keep still, your body convulsing every which way. if not for how tight his hands were around your trembling thighs, you wouldn’t have been able to keep them spread for him.
“daddy, please don’t stop. i think i’m gonna come,” you said between quick pants.
“i know, baby girl. just relax for me.”
with every nerve in your body going haywire, you felt anything but relaxed. between your thudding heartbeat and the ecstasy shooting its way through your spine, your body was bursting at the seams with fervor. but you tried for him. you couldn’t think, at least. there was too much physical stimulation to allow for passing thoughts.
sunghoon only had only goal in mind and that was to make you feel nothing short of the absolute peak of pleasure. he could see what things your body was responding to best and he took advantage of every reaction you had to offer, twisting his tongue the way you so clearly loved.
you couldn’t handle it anymore, and something within you snapped; you cried out, back arching off your fluffy pink bed, jake and the stupid stuffed toys the furthest thing on your mind as warmth fluttered in your stomach.
“that’s it, doll,” sunghoon crooned. “you’re okay, baby. i promise. just let go.”
all the while, his fingers didn’t stop as he spoke. they kept moving as he assured you between gentle kisses to your thighs, almost as restless as your entire body was. “daddy,” you whimpered, thoroughly wrecked.
“i know,” sunghoon whispered, lips flush against your skin. “you did so good, doll. so good for me.”
sunghoon got up from his knees and draped himself over your body, leaning down to kiss you breathless. though you tried to ignore it, you could feel his hard cock pressing against you and just the feeling itself was mouthwatering.
“so perfect,” sunghoon murmured, pulling back to pepper kisses down your jaw. “did you really think daddy wasn’t gonna make sure his doll was taken care of?”
you had nothing to say, so you just watched him begin to peel off what was left of both of your clothes, piece by piece. when you completely naked, you noticed sunghoon’s unbudging eyes stuck to your figure. “do you think i’m pretty, daddy?” you asked with a smile.
“pretty?” he murmured, brows stitched in amazement. “you’re… you’re beautiful, doll. don’t you forget it.”
you wanted to hear him say that a thousand times over.
even as sunghoon moved to reposition himself between your legs, you could hardly believe that this was actually - genuinely - happening. but every touch of his body had felt so real, and you’d dreamed of moments like this enough to know the difference. giving you one last chance to back out, sunghoon asked, “are you sure you want to do this, baby?”
“please,” you begged. the brushing of his tip against your slick folds made your mouth run dry. “i need it. i need you.”
that was all it took for sunghoon to push inside you, slow and steady as ever. you sucked in a breath, your hands already clenching the sheets again as he coaxed the head of his cock deeper inside your sticky cunt.
“oh my god,” you gasped out.
sunghoon chuckled. “i’m barely inside you, baby.”
you knew that, but the feeling of him inside you even this far was enough to make your mind unravel. you’d imagined that it would be a tight fit, but despite him preparing you to take him, that seemed like an understatement. though you were nothing if not purely determined. you would take all of him, no matter how long it took.
sunghoon’s brows furrowed the deeper he sunk into you, his jaw slacked. “god, you’re so tight,” he murmured. to sunghoon, this was the moment that cemented everything into reality, the moment that made everything true. the tight, wet feel of you stretching around his cock as he moved deeper and deeper was too insane to be imagined even if he tried. and he had tried.
your chest and core fluttered at the compliment. you enjoyed the praise. knowing that you were satisfying him, that you were pleasuring him the way he was pleasuring you, was something that filled you with an immense sense of accomplishment. there was nothing you wanted more than to serve him, than to be his girl.
sunghoon took his time, still hardly moving. every time he heard you abruptly suck in a gasp, his hips ground to a stop, wanting to give you time to adjust. he knew better than anyone that he wasn’t lacking in the size category, and the last thing he wanted was to make his sweet girl’s first time uncomfortable. for the right reasons, he wanted to give you a time to remember.
“do you need a minute, doll?” he asked, one brow lifted as he glanced down at you.
you shook your head. “no, it’s okay. you can keep going.”
“you sure?” he pressed. it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t dying to move even deeper, but not at your expense.
not to mention that your mother probably wouldn’t return until after midnight, but that was another conversation.
“i’m sure, daddy,” you replied, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. you didn’t want him to look away. “don’t stop.”
“fuck,” sunghoon groaned. you watched his lips part with the noise and felt his cock become buried further inside your cunt, working you open for him. he was taking his sweet time, because you both knew that if he was going to destroy you, he was going to make every second of it count.
“daddy, are you almost done?” you asked quietly.
“halfway, babe,” sunghoon told you.
you gawked. “halfway?”
sunghoon shushed you with a kiss, pushing himself yet another inch within your heat. he couldn’t wrap his mind around how perfect you felt around his cock and he wasn’t even fully seated inside you yet. you tried to focus on the way his lips moved against yours, but not even that could distract you from how he was stretching you out beyond belief.
“daddy, you’re so big,” you whined.
“i know, baby girl,” sunghoon replied softly, a hint of guilt on his face. “almost there, i promise. does it hurt?”
“a little bit,” you admitted. “but i can take it.”
sunghoon swept his finger over your bottom lip. “you sure, baby?”
you nodded your head. for him, you were convinced that you could do anything. and on top of that, there were no bounds to the things that you would do for him.
when sunghoon’s length had finally penetrated you to the very end, he stilled again, giving you a moment to recover before he started. it felt like an eternity before he actually moved, but when you gave him a nod of approval, he slowly drew back and penetrated you again. you were at a lost for words. nothing had ever been inside you that deeply. there were your fingers and maybe a hair brush, but neither rivaled the depth of your stepfather’s thick cock as he began to take you like you were his.
because you were.
“jesus christ,” sunghoon hissed. “you feel so good, doll. do you know that?”
“you feel good too,” you stammered out.
sunghoon took that as a sign that he was doing everything right, which was more than enough for him to relax. his mind was reeling. the mere wet sound of your skin meeting was making him lose control, and that was to say nothing of your pretty moans. the way you desperately called out for him was almost too much to bear.
you reciprocated his feelings. with every deep, guttural grunt that escaped sunghoon’s mouth, your body was less and less yours. he owned you, head to toe, inside out. you were more than prepared to surrender everything to him, to let him claim all that you were. because you relied on him. you needed him. and little did you know, in some twisted way, he needed you even more.
sunghoon’s hands were balled at your sides, clenching the sheets fiercely. he dreaded hurting you, but imagine his surprise when you grabbed a hold of his hands and redirected them to your perfect hips. “you can hold me, daddy,” you reassured him. “please. i won’t break.”
and even if you did, you were willing to let him put you back together. sunghoon could feel whatever remained of his restraint crumbling into pieces, and he held your hips in his palms tightly, his eyes boring into yours. his gaze, as relentless as it was, wasn’t challenging; it was piercing, loving, understanding. he saw you, he knew you, because you were familiar. you were what kept him whole.
something made sunghoon hold you even tighter. there was a thought that struck him. you needed him to take care of you, to depend upon, to guide you. and he needed you to bring back a purpose which was unfairly stolen from him. he knew it was wrong, that it was sick, but it couldn’t be helped. you had become everything to him, and there was no way in hell he was going to let that go.
“i need you,” he panted, his hips keeping a comfortable pace that you seemed to enjoy, judging from how you continued to throb and moan. “i need you so much, doll. you don’t understand.”
you shook your head, arms wrapped around his neck. you wanted to be inseparably close. “i do understand, daddy,” you insisted. “i need you too.”
sunghoon felt heat surging through his stomach. he said your name. “i love you.”
your lips curled into a smile. your body shook with rapture, so much that you thought you could cry. “i love you too, daddy. i love you so much. i’d let you have me whenever. i’m yours and i wanna take care of you.”
“mine?” sunghoon repeated, so quietly it could have gone unheard if not for how close his face was to yours.
you nodded your head.
sunghoon prodded, “all mine? and not that stupid little boy you call a boyfriend?”
the mere mention of jake made you feel disgust and you knew that you were over him, for good. “won’t see him anymore, daddy. i promise. i never wanted him. i always really just wanted you.”
sunghoon didn’t even bother willing himself to keep calm after he heard you say that. he was insane about you and he didn’t care to hide it anymore. “always?” he repeated.
you hummed. “the first time i came was on that bunny rabbit right there.” you turned your head to gesture towards the stuffed animal.
sunghoon saw it and his eyes darkened as he pictured you mounting the poor bunny, grinding your hips against it as you wished and hoped and prayed it’d soon enough be him bringing you pleasure. he wondered exactly how many times you had used it. how many times you had thought of him.
you cried out as his hips began slap against yours faster, but you took it. sunghoon wasn’t particularly rough, but each thrust drove you closer to insanity than the last. wrapping your legs around your waist, you drew him closer, your arms around his neck and his big hands firm at your hips. “fuck,” you stammered.
“you think about me a lot?” sunghoon asked.
you nodded your head eagerly. “yes, all the time!”
sunghoon was unrelenting. he lowered his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, before he let it fall and pressed, “how much do you think about me?”
“every day,” you told him honestly. “there’s not one day… where i don’t.”
“every day?” sunghoon repeated. “you think about me fucking you every day?”
“sometimes i dream about it,” you confessed.
sunghoon groaned. he had dreamed of you too. he had constantly tried not to think about you in that light, but he couldn’t help what he dreamed of. “i dream about you too,” he whispered. “of making love to you and fucking you full of my cum. will you let me, doll?”
“yes,” you answered him without a second of hesitation. “please, daddy. come inside me!”
sunghoon almost came just from hearing those words, but he couldn’t yet. not before he felt you tighten around his cock with climax. removing his hand from his hip, he began to toy with your sensitive clit, eager and desperate to make you come, to see you come, to feel you come.
your body arched into his hand, knowing who its owner was and willing to submit to his every whim. it felt like your mind was floating somewhere between earth and heaven, lost in space where there was no life, no time. only infinity.
it wasn’t long before your vision brightened white and you swore you could see every star. your legs tightened their grip around his waist as you shuddered with ecstasy, and your mouth hung open as you moaned.
the sensation of your cunt gushing tightly around him as you orgasmed made sunghoon moan himself, and you listened to the sounds of your heat kneading his cock as he used your cunt to push himself to the end. it had felt so good to you too; having something to grip on as you came made the experience all that much better.
“come for me, daddy,” you said, trying to coax the orgasm out of him. “come inside your doll… i need it.”
that did it. hearing you referring to yourself as his doll sent him completely over the edge and you gasped out loud when you felt sunghoon dumping his thick, sticky hot load into your cunt with the deepest grunt of your name. it was so good, so warm. you held eye contact with him the entire time, not once daring to look away even as his hips slowed to a stop.
for a long moment, you both simply lay there in each other’s arms, neither of you wanting to move when you were this close. but you did pull him in for another heated kiss, because you couldn’t think of another way to somehow bring yourself even closer. sunghoon kissed you back passionately, holding your body against his protectively, almost as if he was afraid you’d be taken from him too.
you thought nothing could ruin the moment. then, out of the blue, your phone rang. you and sunghoon both let out a collective sigh of exasperation and you withdrew to peak at your phone on your nightstand, wholeheartedly expecting it to be your mother.
your eyes went wide when you saw that it was jake.
and you wouldn’t have answered it, but you needed to call it quits anyway. though you initially planned to meet him in person, in that moment, you decided he didn’t deserve to see you again in his life. “hello?” you answered.
“baby, you picked up,” jake said, sounding amazed. “listen to me, baby. i’m so sorry i haven’t been answering your calls. i just needed some space, you understand that, right?”
before he could utter another word, the phone was abruptly snatched from your hands. “don’t call my daughter again, or i swear to god, i will find you, and then i will fuck you up,” sunghoon hissed.
he hung up without another word and tossed the phone to the side.
you gawked at his words, but you both felt the way you’d throbbed. “daddy!”
“quiet,” sunghoon said, withdrawing from inside you. “now show me what you did to the bunny.”
I saw some shorts in yt where the girl stalk her crush, spikes his drink, and kidnap him. But turns out he's been stalked her back as well and getting kidnapped was actually in his plan to get close to her (they're both just as freak)
I could imagine this scenario with Jay but its up to you anyway (my english suck lmao im so sorry)
NOT SO DIFFERENT | ✧⁺。
Pairing : yandere!Jay x yandere!reader
Notes : it's finally doneee , tysm for requesting and waiting for it so long 😭😭😭
Our school bell rung signalling the most awaited time , the lunch break . The teacher was in the middle of speaking as the bell rung and as soon as the students heard the ringing there was alot of scrapping of chairs , chit chatting , laughing and overall a very annoying commotion. I stood up as yunjin made her way to my desk whinning "common girl you take so long to pack up , I'm hungryyyy" okay I love my bestfriend but I do not take that long and this bitch has no absolute patience . I rolled my eyes at her as we walked towards our regular seat with our food .
We were in the middle of gossiping along with eating as heeseung came with Jay and sat with us . I blushed a bit as I saw them and i could hear yunjin holding her laugh . I elbowed her as heeseung spoke up "hello guys , what's up" yunjin stopped laughing as she answered "we were just gossiping, talk of gossip I heard one guy of your group started dating is it one of you guys?" She wriggked her eyebrows teasingly as the three of them laughed meanwhile i couldn't help but tense at her words . It can't be him , I know it since I've been following him from 1 week continuously. Heeseung saw my expression as he cleared it out "no no it's just a rumour, none of us are dating anyone"
Yunjin smiled as she saw heeseung reassuring me . I could tell- honestly scratch that everyone could tell that heeseung liked me and according to him as well as a few other people, I like him back . Yunjin was one of the 'other people' and she alwyas tries to do something to get us together , giggling over a simple interaction we having that she quotes as 'absolutely romantic ' . I don't know where they get this ridiculous idea.
Okay to be honest I do know where they get the idea from but they are getting it all wrong . Yes I blush when he's around , yes my eyes always searches for his group , yes I fix my hair when I see him coming but it's not because of him . It's because of the guy he's always around with - It's because of Jay . They are bestfriends and are practically attached to the hip with the amount of time they spend together.
I first saw him at the guitar class in our school , then at the committee meeting , then at the cafeteria and then it was everyday. Slowly i was starting to realise that I liked him but it was just a mere attraction. Though the reality quickly changed when my mere attraction turned into obsession. My occasional glances turned into staring , i came to guitar classes not for the guitar but for him , and the worst of all I started following him . I just couldn't get enough of his smile , his scent just him in general and it was driving me crazy!! I wanted him to be mine and mine only .
Snapping back at the cafeteria I heard heeseung speak , "sooo Jake's having a party tonight at our dorm , you guys coming right?" I was about to politely decline but yunjin spoke before me eagerly accepting his invitation "oh offcourse, we need a break . The assignments are killinngg me" All the while I was just staring at jay and suddenly our eyes met but he didn't look away , his eyes were so intense and so deep that i could litteraly drown in them . Heeseung broke our eye contact as he stood up "okay greatt!! Meet you guys tonight at 8 " and with that they left . Yunjin looked at me as she squealed "he's sooo in love with you and you just can't stop blushing, just date already ohmygod!!!" I scoffed as I shook my head and stood up holding my tray "common you know I don't like him let's go we're getting late" . She followed me as she continued speaking "oh yeah sureee" making sure to exaggerate the sure .
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In the bustling chaos of a crowded party, amidst the pulsating rhythm of music and the cacophony of laughter, there was one figure who stood out to me like a beacon in the night: Jay. He was the epitome of effortless charm, his smile lighting up the room as he effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone around him.
We had reached to the party a bit late but the night was still young . I stared at jay as yunjin went to dance with some guy . He was the only one in mind , my every waking moment filled with fantasies of us together. But I knew that in reality, we inhabited two separate worlds, destined never to intersect.
On this particular night, fueled by a cocktail of desire and desperation, I made a decision that would change the course of both our lives forever. As I watched Jay mingle with the crowd, his laughter ringing out like music to my ears, I knew that I had to make him mine, by any means necessary.
The plan unfolded with chilling precision, each step calculated to perfection. I approached Jay with a coy smile, my heart pounding in anticipation as I engaged him in conversation. He was charming and attentive, his words weaving a spell around me as I struggled to maintain my composure.
As the night wore on and the drinks flowed freely, I seized my opportunity, discreetly slipping a potent sedative into Jay's drink when he wasn't looking. A rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins as I watched him take a sip, my pulse quickening with every passing moment.
With bated breath, I waited for the drug to take effect, my nerves fraying at the edges as I grappled with the enormity of what I had done. But as Jay's eyes began to droop and his movements grew sluggish, a sense of exhilaration washed over me, drowning out the whispers of doubt that threatened to consume me whole.
。 ✧ ⁺ 。
When Jay finally succumbed to the effects of the sedative, I wasted no time in carrying out the next phase of my plan. With trembling hands, I guided him out of the crowded party and into the cool night air, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement , lying effortlessly to anyone that asked what happened to him - "oh he just drank too much"
As I navigated the deserted streets, Jay's limp form slung over my shoulder, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was on the precipice of something extraordinary. This was my chance to finally possess the object of my desires, to make him mine in every sense of the word. But damn was i a fool , i should've known . It was too good to be true , too easy .
When Jay finally regained consciousness, his reaction was not what I had expected. Instead of fear , confusion , screaming or thrashing there was a glint of something else in his eyes, something that sent a shiver down my spine. He was too calm for my liking .
"Nice place , though I do prefer a fancy bed but this works just fine I guess ?" Jay's voice was calm, almost eerily so, as he gazed at me with an intensity that made my blood run cold. "You know these ropes are cheap for a reason right ?" He said as he pulled his hands from behind his back and rubbed the spot where the bruise was forming
I recoiled in shock, my mind racing as I struggled to comprehend what was happening. Why is he so calm ? Does he think i actually got him here because he was drunk ? Or does he think we had sex ? But that doesn't explain the rop- "calm down sweetheart, I can tell you're thinking too much" he interrupted my thoughts sweetly with his honey like voice flowing through my mind . He stood up and gently tugged at my wrist as he pulled me closer and leaned down a bit inhaling the scent of my perfume which I bought because it was his favourite "hmmm my favourite perfume, got it correct sweetheart . How could you not you litteraly were behind me when I was shopping" he chuckled at the last part .
How could Jay possibly know about my obsession with him? And more importantly, why was he so unnervingly calm in the face of danger?
"It was all part of my plan," Jay continued, his words sending a chill down my spine. "I knew you were obsessed with me, so I decided to play along. But now that the tables have turned, it's time for you to realize who's really in control." He sighed as he sat me down on the bed , holding my hands in his own "we are meant to be darling , psychos like us are destined to be with each other for eternity and it's about time you accept it - not like you have a choice"
As Jay spoke, a sense of dread washed over me, the realization dawning that I had vastly underestimated him. He was not the helpless victim I had imagined him to be; he was a predator, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike when least expected. He was the danger and i was the victim but did I seem to oppose the idea ? Fuck no , how can I when even as fear coursed through my veins, there was a part of me that couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of exhilaration. Jay's admission of his own obsession with me sent a thrill coursing through my body, igniting a fire within me that burned brighter than any fear or doubt.
In that moment, I knew that I had a choice to make: to succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume me, or to embrace it fully and revel in the intoxicating power it offered. And as I gazed into Jay's eyes, his gaze burning with an intensity that mirrored my own, I made my decision to fall in the darkness afterall was there any kind of experience that could make you complete other than knowing that the one you're in madly love with is also in love with you but just more insanely.
As we gazed at each other , there was a loud voice heard "CUT !! YOU GUYS WERE AMAZING" we both smiled as we heard the director . This was our 3rd music video shooting together after one of the first ones went viral . This was a new concept to us though it did not at. all. mean the love we showed , we presented was fake . We've been in a relationship for the past 7 years and been married for 2 now and it was the bestest decison of my life , he's made me the happiest I've ever been and I would not have it any other way . As the director was done talking to him , Jay approached me as he embraced me in an affectionate hug , our bodies fitting each other like a puzzle . He whispered "We really are meant to be , aren't we darling?" In my opinion we are not so different from the characters we just played and that's the thrill in our life .
