let out some steeeam

내가 만든 쿠키 come and take a lookie •ﻌ•

[ssinjake]

ENHA SUNGHOON LINKS

type of vids/pics you send to Sunghoon while he’s away

Sunghoon loves grabbing your chest while you ride him

Sunghoon fucking you in the HYBE building staircase

having sex with Sunghoon while watching the city view

+bonus @ssinjake

[jaggeddoll]

happy birthday !

you come home and fuck your roommate’s boyfriend in the kitchen

warnings: cheating, raw sex, mentions of heeseung having sex w his gf (sooha), talking about unprotected sex, heeseung is obsessed with panties and your pussy, mentions of alcohol and weed, heeseung and you are hungover/high in this fic.

unedited soz. heeseung cheating on his gf with u <3 happy bday big daddy

***

“You weren’t here last night.”

Heeseung walks out of your roommate’s bedroom in nothing but boxers and a black tank top that outlines the ridge of his abdomen and pecs. He’s a sight for sore eyes at 7am, considering he spent an entire evening binge drinking and getting high off of whatever people offered him the night before. You, on the other hand, just got home. Your heels are tossed somewhere near the front door and your eye makeup is barely on your face.

“You make it sound like I’m supposed to be at my place whenever you are.”

You turn around to look at Heeseung from where you stand in the kitchen, your barely-covered ass facing him while your hands stir sugar and cream into your cup of coffee. He walks on the hardwood floor until his back is pressed against yours, mouth barely hovering over your neck to the point where you can smell the minty breath on him. He smells like a mixture of toothpaste, alcohol, and weed.

“You were the one I was supposed to fuck last night, baby.” Heeseung pouts dramatically, bringing his hands to your hips before squeezing you. “You didn’t even wish me happy birthday.”

“I texted you, though.”

He laughs and kisses the side of your neck once.

“Not the same.”

“Oh, were you expecting a blowjob?”

“Mm, and then some.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

You feel his hands wander underneath your dress untuk his fingertips graze the thin panties you’re wearing. Your pussy jolts with excitement when his warm hands trap you between himself and the counter, feeling Heeseung’s lap push against your ass. The utensil clangs against the cup and you hurry to grab it before the liquid spills.

There’s nothing but pure excitement that fills your body when Heeseung starts to grind himself on you, semi-hard cock starting to wake up just like you’re trying to with the coffee. That’s the last thing on your mind, though. Heeseung starts to trace the band of your panties and uses his other hand to gently scrape your pussy lips when his tongue licks your skin.

“Was thinking we’d get high at the club and come back here to smoke some more and maybe fool around a bit.”

You laugh. “Yeah? At the birthday party your girlfriend threw you?”

“Sooha never stopped us from fucking before.”

“Yeah, when you weren’t the center of attention.” Heeseung feels you clench when his index finger presses against your covered entrance and smirks against your neck.

“Had to come home and fuck her instead,” he whines quietly. “Had her cumming around my cock for hours, though. I guess it wasn’t all for nothing.”

“Trying to make me jealous?”

“Is it working?” Your arousal spreads all over his finger and he feels you push your ass back against his hardened cock.

“Wouldn’t say I’m jealous, per se. Definitely interested.”

Heeseung gentle nips at your neck. “Ate her pussy and pretended it was you in my bed. Wish it was you squirting on my face instead.”

“That’s it?”

“Had her cumming in doggy until my dick was white. It kept slipping out because we came so much.”

“And here I thought I was special, baby,” you say with faux disappointment. It makes Heeseung’s dick swell in his boxers. “You fucked her raw too?”

He turns you around and looks at you, dipping his head to capture your lips in a sensual kiss. His lips are wet with saliva and his tongue barely grazes yours. Heeseung brings his hand back to your pussy and pushes his palm against your cunt, rubbing it back and forth.

“Don’t hate me, baby. What else was I supposed to do? I was high and missing your pussy. Besides, we ran out of condoms anyway.”

“Hmph.”

He leans in again, mouth nipping at your neck with his warm breath covering your skin. It makes your toes curl and you feel Heeseung bring his free hand to his dick to squeeze him from the outside.

“You can’t be mad at me for fucking my girlfriend of my birthday, darling.”

“I guess not.”

“You weren’t even there,” he says with a slight whine.

“Your girlfriend never gave me an invitation. Take it up with her.”

“She’s probably just jealous.”

Heeseung pulls himself back and lifts up your dress to get a look at your naked front. He hooks his fingers on your panties and bends his knees with it while he takes them off, quietly thanking you for being such a good girl to help him.

When you look behind you, Heeseung’s already back to his feet with your soaked panties in his hand. He licks the wet patch and closes his eyes as he moans out loud, other hand jacking off his hard and big fuckstick as he savors your taste. You moan in front of him and Heeseung opens his eyes, a wicked grin on his lips when he realizes you’re wetter than before.

He sucks on the fabric until he can’t taste you anymore before pushing the loose fabric back against your cunt, rubbing it over your wet lips . His fingers move back and forth while he gathers more arousal and shoves your panties back into his mouth, moaning when you turn around to push your ass towards him.

“Sooha doesn’t know how to have fun like you do, baby.” Heeseung spits directly on his dick and rubs his fat head against your bare and wet pussy, hissing at the initial contact. “Her pussy doesn’t take my cock like yours does.”

The stretch is always insane. His dick is fucking huge in your small cunt, pussy barely able to wrap around him in the first try. It’s your tenacity that makes Heeseung harder and the way you push against his lap like you want all of him inside of you despite the pain that makes him go crazy. It’s why he prefers fucking you over Sooha, especially because you whine like you’ll die without his dick.

Heeseung pulls out and lets the next few thrusts acclimate to your tight walls. You’re running on sleep depravation mixed in with a lingering high from weed and alcohol that makes his cock feel like a magic wand meant to give you nothing but pleasure. He’s warm, he’s thick, and you feel his balls swinging against your thighs with every thrust.

He brings his mouth to your earlobe and sucks on the loose skin. You grip the counter for stability and moan, which makes Heeseung moan right into your ear.

“Fuck, clench my dick again.” You constrict your pussy against him and he moans straight from his chest. “Best pussy ever. My dick physically hurts if I’m not inside you.”

“S-Sweet talked.”

“Only for my baby.” Heeseung grips the counter beside you and angles his legs to push right up into your hole, making you whine and stand on your toes to accommodate the new angle. It feels so fucking good to be fucked like this with his tip pressing against the deepest parts of you.

And maybe the idea of getting caught turns you in. You know it makes Heeseung aroused, judging from all the times he’s begged to take you right where she could hear or see. You, on the other hand, have some decorum. You might find your roommate to be the most annoying and insufferable girl to live with, but you aren’t someone who will flaunt her boyfriend around for no reason at all.

Except, it kind of back fired on her behalf. She spends every waking moment bragging about Heeseung’s big dick like you don’t know what it feels like to be fucked by him. She talks about her boyfriend like he’s never sent you videos of himself cumming to your photos. Sooha brags about her boyfriend as if he’s never came in you so much you had a pregnancy scare.

“Pull out,” you whisper against his mouth when Heeseung tilts your head to kiss you. It’s a miracle that Sooha hasn’t woken up with how much noise the two of you are making.

“What? Why?”

“It’s bad enough you ran out of condoms,” you say with a petty laugh. You don’t care either way, really. But it’s fun seeing Heeseung’s eyebrows lock in confusion like you just told him to stop fucking you. “I can’t have you cumming in me when you came in Sooha.”

“It doesn’t matter, baby.” Heeseung forces his tongue deep into your mouth and sucks on your wet muscle, thrusting harder into your wet cunt like he’s trying to prove a point.

“Pull out. Or are you that bad at controlling your dick?”

“Bratty baby,” he says with a laugh. His fingers grip the counter until his knuckles turn white and he ruts into your small pussy.

“You want me to pull out?” You nod over and over again just to tease him. “Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you want. But you need to cum before I do, or else I can’t promise anything. Cum before me and I’ll pull out.”

He hooks his chin over your shoulder when you bring your right hand to your clit, rubbing your fingers back and forth to bring you closer to your orgasm. Heeseung’s ass clenches at the very sight and he does his best to hold himself off until he feels your cum splattering onto his cock from the inside.

“Fuck, bend over and spread your ass apart.”

You’re still cumming when he pulls out but you do as he says. He watches your hold spasm as he uses his hand to jerk his fuckstick, wet cock making his palm wet too. The sound bounces off the walls in the kitchen and you gasp when you feel his warm semen splash against your warm pussy.

“Sexy fuckin’ pussy,” Heeseung grunts as he finishes jerking off. He brings the head to rub against you, smearing himself all over you. Your roommate’s boyfriend dips himself right back in, pushing the entirety of his dick back into you.

“Never said anything about this,” he says lowly. “This is fair game.”

“S-Shit.”

“I’m so fuckin’ hungover. Can’t stay hard, baby. I’m sorry.” Heeseung thrusts his softening dick in and out of your cum-covered hole and lets himself unwillingly leave your pussy when you clench so hard it pushes him out.

He tucks his dick, still dirty with mixed cum, back into his boxers while he pulls your dress down. Your coffee has long since been forgotten when he kisses you again and tells you to get some sleep.

Sooha wakes up two hours later none the wiser.

a/n: only saying this once bc i know ppl will have shit to say. my tropes/kinks are strictly that and most things i write aren’t things i condone irl.

w that being said… kitchen sex with heeseung

[galbiyun]

(𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍) smut links

kinktober special 𝐏. 𝐒𝐇 !!

sunghoon walked in on you touching yourself, you begged him to help you but he thought otherwise.

sunghoon was too tired to fuck you properly.

sunghoon teasing you before finally giving you what you want.

sunghoon after watching you talk with another guy at a party.

riding sunghoon.

++ he shares everything and anything with jake.

taglist; @urfavlocalgirly @rikisriri  @icing217 @shhth @laylasbunbunny @lexixza @sosaphiee @sourrsoul @smlbch @nexlynn @xuminghaes @meim3ii @rikimuraaaa @rikigoonette @tessa365 @beaepa @rikismura @giyuutopfan @annovaz @ellayahhs @fatenha @emilyisntreal @felxvrs @hongjoongsprincess @enhaswifeyall @pinkpomelo @parkjjongswifey

[ellsblue]

pervert bf sim jaeyun 18+

boyfriend!jake who’s the most respectful and attentive man you’ve ever met. he opens doors, buys flowers, picks you up from work/school, etc.

(pervert)boyfriend!jake who secretly plays with his cock every time you send him photo. whether that’s a cute selfie or a picture of the food you ate at a restaurant (he noticed your bare thighs were squeezing together at the bottom of the picture and couldn’t help himself😞)

boyfriend!jake who loves spending time with you. quality time is super important to him so he just ends up going everywhere with you. he’s coming to dentist appointments, grocery shopping, visiting your grandparents, doesn’t matter what you do, he’s there.

(pervert)boyfriend!jake who finds you so hot he’s afraid of making a move. “i’ll ask if that’s something she’s comfortable with” he tells himself just to have his brain short circuit at the outline of your nipples through the tank top your wearing.

boyfriend!jake who imagines a huge house and 3 kids when he sees you getting along with his family.

(pervert)boyfriend!jake who feels horrible about how perverted he is. he respects and loves you so much, he can’t help but feel guilty when he gets hard watching you lick your ice cream cone.

boyfriend!jake who does the most embarrassing things just to have you laugh and playfully shove his shoulder. all he wants is to see u smile🥲

(pervert)boyfriend!jake who cums in literal seconds the first time you give him head. he’ll frantically use his fingers to wipe the cum you weren’t expecting off of your face, “o-oh my god. i’m so so sorry this is so embarrassing.”

boyfriend!jake who becomes SO clingy after that experience. now he’s showering with you, sleeping over almost everyday, and even sitting on the counter while you pee. the two of you are basically one now and you can’t do anything about it.

(pervert)boyfriend!jake who thought he’d be less of a pervert after having sex with you but he ended up only getting worse. he’s the type to sniff you before eating you out (i’m sorry), the type to steal panties, the type to fuck you no matter the place, and the type to take photos underneath your skirt. one time you even caught him in the act and asked why he doesn’t just ask to take them and he replied “it’s more fun when you don’t know abt them” 💔💔

[vaheempire]

݁ᛪ༙ PARTIES ARE FOR LOSERS

dom!nerd!heehoon x reader 𓄧 (threesome)

♱⃓ synopsis your roommate, jay threw a welcoming party for you, probably for his own convenience. but those weren’t your thing, you were wallowing in your party. guests weren’t your cup of tea, not until mr. share-my-rank-one-title and mr. rank two arrive to give you a taste of what life should be.

⚠︎ warnings ! smut. mdni! mean!dom!sunghoon, soft!dom!heeseung, cannabis consumption, vapes & cigarettes, semi-public, unprotected. filth. double-penetration, inflicting pain, all three holes used (anal, p in v, throat-fucking)

☠︎ word count 5.1k

⋆˚࿔ XOXO, CIRCE. i had fun writing this and i hope u enjoy it as wellll! not proofread :(

you didn’t even want to be here, a cheap frat party thrown by your dorm mates as a welcome to you. its not your thing, you’d appreciate it if they just left you in silence with your books and homework, but no. it was a tradition, they said.

now, you’re here, trapped in the living room by people you’ve never seen in your entire life. stuck at a party thrown for you. “e..excuse… excuse me.” you silently said, squeezing yourself in between warm bodies. smoke filled the room up, not a corner untouched of that unpleasant smell.

once you got out to the balcony, it felt like heaven— fresh air, muffled sounds from the inside, just you and the cold breeze hitting your face. that lasted for only 31 seconds, you hear the sliding door open, “heeseung, don’t be a bitch. i’ll buy you a new one.” a cold voice starts, followed by a soft whine from the person he’s talking to, “dude, i bought that in miami, i can’t find good shit like that here.” 

you turned your head to see two men who look familiar conversing about… something? they acted like you weren’t there, like someone else wasn’t listening to the conversation they were having. you swore you’ve seen these two faces before. 

you turn your face back to the city lights as you start to recall all events you’ve had in uni, the basketball game? no… oh! maybe the football game? wait, no… the science fair? maybe they’re the assholes who caused the horrendous explosion of elephant toothpaste… no, that was the australian guy… you started to get warm on where you’ve seen them, it’s at the tip of your tongue, you just can’t prove it. 

“the thermodynamics quiz bee?” you whisper out loud, you didn’t realize it before the two men’s conversation came to a halt. you heard ruffling before a; “y/n?” 

how did they know your name? you turn to look at them, scanning both faces in a study, then that’s where it hit you. they were your opponents in the thermodynamics quiz bee! 

“what are you doing here?” the one in the black jacket asked, wait what’s his name… heejeung? hee… heebung! no, heeseung.

“oh, uhm… my dorm mates threw this for me, i just moved in yesterday.” you explained, trying to swallow your prideful smile after seeing their faces once again since you crushed their asses in that quiz bee. “how about you? what are you guys doing here?”

they both turn to look at each other, “oh, we sorta get in these stuff as a breather from our academics. it tends to get stressful.” the guy in the white jacket answered, pushing up his glasses, before shoving his hands down his pocket. you noticed his change of demeanor, he looked confused before looking down and pulling something out of his pocket. a small, bright green device.

“oh, shit.” he chuckles as he holds it up to heeseung’s face. the man turned to him, gasping rather loudly before snatching the device from him. “MY BABY!” he cried, holding it to his chest. 

you laugh at his reaction, how could a man ever love an inanimate object. “what’s that?” before you even asked, heeseung was already placing it in between his lips, taking a deep inhale as the device lights up from the bottom.

“try it, it’s green apple flavored,” he hands it to you, you shook your head. “oh, you don’t do these?” earning another shake of your head. “sunghoon, she doesn’t do these,” he told sunghoon in disbelief, holding up his vape.

“how are you surviving college?” he jokes, you giggled at the casualness you three held. it wasn’t your first time meeting, but it was the first time the three of you actually spoke like human beings and not debating on how entropy— okay, zip it.

you turn to them fully, heeseung’s face was turned to the side as he blew the smoke towards the cold air, sunghoon was puffing on the same device before handing it back to heeseung.

“won’t this be bad in your record?” you start, “i mean, it’s against school policy.” 

heeseung wanted to pinch your cheek, you were so cute, all over-aware and conscious. “it only goes bad in our record if we get caught.” heeseung was now leaning his head towards you.

the sliding door opened, “yo, jake just rolled out 17 joints, want some?” your roommate, jay says as his head pokes out the door, “how many you got?” sunghoon asked.

“i don’t know, man. jake just smoked one and he’s passed out. we got like… 15 left.” jay laughs, “it was a the good shit, i took a puff and it’s already kicking in.” 

the three of you all look at each other, before sunghoon spoke up, “give me 3.”, getting a nod from jay, his head disappearing then it pokes out once again alongside his hand reaching out 3 sticks of… something, when heeseung took them, placing one in between his lips. jay digs in his pocket, then his hand is up with a lighter sitting on his palm. sunghoon took the lighter as he lights up the stick in between heeseung’s lips, he grabs a stick from heeseung’s palm, lighting up his own. 

you can’t explain it, but something about the way they know their way around in this is making you feel hot. the way they move in synchronization like they’ve done this a million times, like it’s a routine. the way sunghoon lights heeseung’s joint first before his, the way heeseung’s eyes squint a bit when the smoke it traveling upwards, the way they twist the joint out in between their fingers. 

heeseung was leaning against the balcony, his face scrunching up to the sudden flavor engulfing his mouth. he hold out his palm to you, offering you the other stick, “try”. 

sunghoon handed the lighter back to jay, “alright, enjoy!” then he’s gone, and the door’s closed. it’s just the three of you again.

“i don’t know how,” god, you’re in college and you’ve never smoked or drink. embarrassing. it was cute to the two of them, though, how you’re so clueless with their reality, to what they actually do to handle stress, to what they are beyond their titles. sunghoon wasn’t that perfect-good-boy he turns out to be. heeseung wasn’t that boy who used to get the same gpa as you, both having your names at the first ranking. 

they’re just boys too, behind their excellent academic performances, their untouched student record, their top-student facade. they’re different like this. like, they turn off a switch in their brain that stops them from being the top students in your school. 

“i’ll teach you how, get closer.” heeseung pulls you closer to him. he sets down your joint, as he took his joint from his lips to hold it up to your face. “this is where you put your lips, you take a small inhale, then hold it there.”

“in my mouth?”

“no, in your lungs,” he says as he points to the middle part of your throat, “you should feel something here, hypopharyx, yeah? then exhale when i tell you to.”

when i tell you to. boy, did that do something to you. you close your lips on the joint heeseung was holding out. you follow the steps he instructed. sunghoon was watching intently behind heeseung. 

the feeling was unbearable, the taste was yuck, the heat was unpleasant, yet you held it in, feeling it burn just at the back of your throat, hypopharyx.

“wait.” heeseung instructed, “ok, exhale.” you do as he says, exhaling the smoke. it became thin, almost transparent as your lungs has filtered it out. “good girl, no coughing.”

“you sure you’ve never done this before?” sunghoon rolls his joint in between his fingers as he smiled. impressed on how you didn’t even cough.

“again?” heeseung asks, keeping it just by your face. “try to inhale more, and keep it longer. when it gets itchy and you feel like coughing when it gets to your throat, just swallow on your spit continuously, it’ll go away eventually.” you nod to his explanation.

you were taking small puffs here and there, until you end up in this current state: sunghoon was leaning against the glass door, heeseung was curled up in a ball on the floor, and you were in between them. you guys were laughing at nothing, car horns, the light switch, heeseung’s shoelaces.

you felt carefree, like the world was floating away from your hands, the heaviness you carry is now vanishing. you want to stay like this forever.

“sunghoon… my vape,” heeseung pouts as he retracts the device from his lips to let it go, his vape went tumbling on the floor. “it died.”

sunghoon laughed—no, wheezed at heeseung’s complaint before turning to you, “y/n, can you ask jay to grab my coat?” which you immediately comply.

you twist your body, reaching for the handle of the door to pull it to the right, you scan the living room, spotting jay next to which you assume is sunghoon’s coat. “jaaay! can you pass that?” you point at the coat. 

“what?” he asks, bringing his hand up to his ear, “the coat!” you yell, “the what?!” 

you’ve been pointing at the coat, your back was straining from the twist, so you adjusted your position, you get on your knees, bending down to reach for the coat yourself, you wearing a skirt completely slipped off your mind.

heeseung, whose cheek is pressed against the concrete had a full view of your ass and green panties. “holy shit,” he muttered, catching sunghoon’s attention, now realizing what heeseung was so amused about, the way you looked so sexy this way, your back was naturally arched, the wind helping the both of them to get a better view of your ass, they were enjoying this.

“thank you!” you giggle, closing the door before going back to your previous position, your legs were clamped together as you straightened them again. “here”, you pass the coat to sunghoon, who immediately acted like he didn’t saw anything he wasn’t supposed to see. 

his hand searching for something in each pocket, he took out a box of cigarettes and a pocket lighter, and tossed it to heeseung, who gasped and smiled widely. 

“yey! thank youuuuuuu,” heeseung opened the box and took a cigarette, placing it in between in lips, he tried reaching for the lighter but it was too far, “your aim is shit, sunghoon.” his head was lowering. god, he’s so gone.

you laugh at heeseung, taking the lighter, lightly grabbing heeseung’s jaw, turning his head to face the lighter. despite his fucked out state, he got to ignite it before the cigarette died. 

you turn to sunghoon, “can i have one as well?” 

“take all you want, princess.” you smiled at the nickname, the three of you were now careless, with your actions, your words, your thoughts.

you were half-way into finishing your cigarette, the two boys you were with had their eyes closed, too high to stay awake. you took heeseung’s cigarette butt from his lips and burnt it on the ground, “mm” heeseung muttered.

you suddenly felt a hand on your thigh, “let me have some of that,” sunghoon says with his eyes closed shut. you took the cigarette to his lips, and he turned his head to the other side. 

“hm?” you question his sudden decline, sunghoon opened his eyes, his eyes blood-shot red and hooded. “get on top of me,”

“what?—“ then you felt his hands grip your him to place you on top of his lap, “you smell good, y/n,” 

you were shocked with the sudden sensation, you felt so hot despite the cold air whishing your whole body. 

“take a hit.” he instructed to which you did, then he took both your cheeks in one hand, squeezing it and letting it hover of his, you took this as a sign to exhale. he slightly opened his mouth to inhale the smoke you were letting out.

you did this multiple times until the cigarette reached its end. sunghoon’s hands were now toying the hem of your skirt. 

“you’re no fair,” you both turn to heeseung who was now lifting himself up, knee-walking towards the both of you, he then grabbed the end on your skirt and lifted it up, the sudden cold breeze sending shivers to every nerve you have. 

“you’ve got… really… cute panties on, hehe” he giggled, now pressing a soft kiss to your earlobe, the sensation was crazy, his hot breath made your back arch. 

“argh— don’t do that.” sunghoon said, tightening his grip on the fat of your waist. 

“let’s take this to your room?” heeseung peppered kisses down to your shoulders, your eyes fluttering shut.

“get up.” sunghoon instructed to both you and heeseung who was quick with it, he was lifting you up by your arms. you lock your index finger with heeseung, doing the same with sunghoon when he got up, leading them to your room.

they gave you no time to breathe, sunghoon locking the door behind him and pushing you to your bed. “heeeey, i can’t have outside clothes on my bed,” you whine. 

heeseung pulled you up to sit, “well, take your outside clothes off, then.” his voice was low and laced with lust. you were out of your mind, you started by taking your panties off first, shocking both men kneeling before you. your panties pooled by your ankle, sunghoon shook them off, and touched the pad of your underwear.

“wet? really?” he smiled, he tossed it aside and started to place a hand up your thigh, caressing the soft of your skin. you were reaching for your shirt when heeseung stopped you, “do it slowly, put on a show f’me.” 

the more it happened, the more confidence you get, you run a hand through your hair, letting it sit on the left side, you lick your lips before slowly lifting your shirt, just by your bra. heeseung grunts and shifts in his place. you lift your shirt over your head painfully slow. 

you threw the shirt over his shoulder, instantly getting a low groan from him, “fuck you.”

you stand up and turn around. you kneeled and bent your back, waving your bare ass on their faces, “can you help me? can’t reach,” you fake pout, looking at the both of them. 

you could hear sunghoon’s low growl before undoing the clasp of your skirt, and pulling the slider down. you could feel his hand grope your hips through the skirt before he pulls it down. 

fuck, they could smell your arousal. “jesus christ.” heeseung reached out to unclasp your bra, letting it freely fall down your shoulders. he takes your bra from your chest and throws it on the floor. 

you were just face down your bed, your elbows holding you up, none of you spoke. you sorta tensed, why are they so silent. just as you were about to speak up, you feel a quick, hot, and wet stripe up your pussy. 

“aah— fuck! what the—“ you’re now pulled up by your shoulders, looking up to see sunghoon towering over you, shirtless. you catch every dip of his abdomen, his skin white as snow. this was truly a sight. heeseung noticed the way the two of you were staring at each other deeply that you two didn’t even hear him pulling his pants down.

he grabbed a fistful of your hair, making you face him. “can’t forget about me now, do you?” he was slapping the tip of his cock on your cheek. “please me, baby.” the words spilling from his mouth like smooth wine. 

you shifted on your knees, now facing him. you started to pepper little pecks on his raging tip, making it twitch, “agh— don’t tease.” 

“‘m not teasing,” you flash a sweet smile to him, you hear unbuckling behind you. you kept on digging your tongue lightly at the slit of his cock, “god, fuck. i can’t— can’t… do…” heeseung stammers, his hand reaches your scalp again, fisting your hair, enough to hurt.

“stop,” sunghoon orders, pulling you off heeseung. he pushed you on your bed, forced you to lie down with your head hanging off the edge. “you’ve ever been eaten out before?” he asks.

you muffle a small ‘no’, sunghoon smiles. “well, i’ll make you feel how good it is. is that okay with you?” he was walking towards the other end of the bed. he was holding onto your ankles, separating them.

heeseung was now positioning himself in front of you, “hi,” he smiles. you feel comforted by the sudden sweetness, he bends down in front of your face, facing you. “you’re so pretty,” he admits before closing the gap between you. he was actually kissing you upside down. 

the kiss was so messy, full of teeth clashing, tongues everywhere, it was a call for desperation. your hands were traveling up to hold onto his neck, when you suddenly feel the wet warmth laying flat on your cunt. 

“mmmph!” you moan onto the kiss, you feel heeseung smile onto the kiss as grabbing chuckles against your folds, sending a vibration everywhere. you pull away from the kiss, “aah! oh, so goooooood.” 

heeseung stands up, grabbing the base of his cock, squeezing it tightly in between his index and thumb. “mmm, let’s finish off what we started, shall we?” he snickers.

you let you jaw fall slack at an instant, your tongue following suit. heeseung was playing with your tongue with the head of his dick, “oh, such a pretty face.” he reaches for his phone that was placed on your bed.

“smiilee!” he laughs as he snaps pictures of different angles, your face, your tits, his dick just laying heavy on your mouth, sunghoon lapping at your pussy. “fuck, i’m gonna jerk off to this.”

“shend ith to me, hmm,” sunghoon speaks over your core, you moan loudly at the shooting sensations. heeseung took the opportunity to shove inches in your mouth, muffling your sounds. 

you immediately gag onto him, the feeling unfamiliar. “i’m gonna show no mercy to this pretty little mouth of yours, yeah? just dig your nails here if it gets too much,” he guided your hand on his thigh. 

heeseung pulled out fully, roughly rubbing his head up and down your glistening lips, it felt so good for him, “aaaaargh! haha, god. oh, god.” he exclaims before shoving his entire length down your throat. 

“mmmhphh!!” you squeal, hand flying to heeseung’s thigh, not squeezing. he pulls out again, then slams back in. each time he does it, you feel lightheaded. the way he’s so rough with you, the way he’s knocking out every ounce of oxygen from you body, the way you could hear him moan. 

sunghoon on the other hand, felt your pussy fluttering and your clit hardening against his tongue, he laps at it slowly and precisely. your hips trying to chase his tongue unconsciously when it was away. 

“mhf clowsh, mmmh!” you gurgle against heeseung, your own spit flowing down you face, reaching just below your eye. sunghoon pushed his index finger in, “argh, so tight.” 

that was pushing you over the edge, the knot in your stomach about to unravel, you were moaning uncontrollably at the feeling. your whole body was tingling. when you felt sunghoon pulled away, his tongue, his finger, his whole body is away from you.

your hands slap against heeseung’s thighs, your nails digging onto his flesh. you were edged, edged so bad it hurt. “ow! her nails’ sharp.” heeseung pulled your hands away from him, you were now thrashing your legs, knuckles turning white from gripping at the sheets.

heeseung was pounding your face, even bringing his hand down to your neck just to squeeze. “oh, that feels so— so good, fuck, so good… god, i’m close.”

you were crying from the pain you felt at your throat, the loss of pleasure, everything. “mmffmp, shtop!” you begged, running your hands over heeseung’s thigh, desperate for a breath.

heeseung laughs, “you know what to do when you want me to stop, right?” his thrusts were getting sloppier, his own knees were buckling. “just— just hold on a bit longer, okay? i’m gonna shoot my load down… down this pretty pretty throat of yours.” 

you were starting to black out, your jaw going numb before you felt sunghoon crawling on top of you, “mmmmfhhh!” you were whining against heeseung.

“don’t worry, baby. my outside clothes are off,” sunghoon assured before you felt his hard-on grinding against your thigh. you were feeling so many things at once. sunghoon signaled heeseung to remove his hand from your throat.

he crawled up higher, before he licked a stripe up your neck, biting at the thin, stretched-out skin, then sucking it. it earned a moan from both you and heeseung.

“fuck! i feel it on my dick, dude.” heeseung throws his head back. “don’t— don’t stop… please, fuck.” sunghoon laughed at the desperation. sunghoon brought a hand up on your nipple, twisting and pinching at it, while he was sucking hickeys on your throat. heeseung was a moaning mess, and so were you. your hands fly down to sunghoon’s back, scratching at it. “oh, her nails are sharp, fuck. keep doing that f’me.”

“i’m cum— cumming. fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck!” heeseung's dick was pulsing in your throat, you felt how deep he was. he was shaking, wheezing, and his face was contorted, his mouth opened, his eyes shut closed. 

you gagged violently when heeseung was pulling out, nudging at your uvula. “AAGH!” you screamed before sucking deep and heavy breaths, heeseung’s cum spilling out your mouth. he scooped his cum that was trickling down your cheek, coating both his index and middle finger. he brought it up to sunghoon’s plump lips. 

sunghoon looked up at him, in shock. yet, he still stuck his tongue out, and lapped at heeseung’s cum-coated fingers. “that’s… fucking… disgusting…” you say in between breaths, laughing. 

heeseung pulls away from sunghoon, as the latter gets off you and pulls you by your legs by the edge of the bed, your head was now laid flat on the mattress, the back of it was now straining from the sudden change of position. 

“sit up.” he ordered, he was licking his lips, it took you a while to process and do what he said. you lift yourself up in pain. sunghoon grabs both your thighs and lift you up.

heeseung crawled on your bed, sitting just below you before sunghoon placed you onto heeseung’s lap.

you can’t process anything that was happening. until you felt sunghoon rubbing his tip up and down on your folds. “please us.” sunghoon said before shoving the head in. 

“OW! no, stop… stop, wait. wait, please, wait.” you were babbling sweet nothings, your misery was egging sunghoon on more. he pushed and pushed in until he was bottomed out. “p—pull… pull out, can’t—can’t take… it, no…” 

“that’s crazy, baby. your pussy’s sucking me in just right.” he pushed his body onto you, grabbing you up again, you felt heeseung’s head on your pussy too.

“no, no. not two, i can’t.” you were begging as you gripped on sunghoon’s meaty arm. causing him to chuckle. 

“oh, silly girl. of course, not.” sunghoon placed a kiss on your lips, the smell was compelling, the mix of weed, cigarettes, and cum was pushing sunghoon over the edge, he could cum just from that. he pulled you in deeper, licking the inside of your mouth, he laughed at your desperation when you immediately opened your mouth up for his tongue.

heeseung was rubbing his tip on your pussy, before dipping down to the curve of your ass hole. “it’s so fucking warm.” he was gliding his tip in your ass, “relax for me, baby. it’ll be easier for the three of us.” 

‘the three of us’, it kept replaying in your head. the thought of it was filthy, having sex with two men at the same time, having two dicks shoved in you. your mind was so cloudy, you didn’t notice the pain you should be feeling when heeseung shoved the head of his dick in your ass. “oh, fuck, it’s so tight, my dick might fall off.” he laughed.

you now felt the excruciating pain, like you were being sawn in half vertically. “heeseung, stop.” you said as you pulled away from sunghoon, a string of saliva connecting your lips. 

“you can take this, it’s mkaay.” he peppered kisses down your back as he slowly pushed in deeper. 

“mmmfph! i caaaan’t, it hurts so much.” you cry, sunghoon took this as a sign to move, to hush the current pain you were feeling. he pulled out all the way, the tip of head just resting in between your folds, you whine at the loss, closing your eyes. 

heeseung stared at sunghoon for a signal. sunghoon looked down at your core before looking up at heeseung, he nodded. sunghoon thrusted while pushing you down onto heeseung’s dick, your ass cheeks slapping onto heeseung thighs.

“FUCK!” your eyes shoot open, tears now falling down your cheeks, you didn’t know what to feel, heeseung hurts, sunghoon feels good, your nipples hurt, your throat aches. 

“shh, it’s okay,” heeseung moans behind you, you were crying onto sunghoon’s bare chest who was already thrusting into you. heeseung stayed in that position for a while. 

heeseung tried lifting you up, then bringing you down slowly, you moaned at the feeling, “so… good…” you whispered. 

“what was that, baby?” sunghoon asked, panting. his pace was quickening. “say it again, tell heeseung how it feels.”

you turn your head, meeting heeseung’s jaw, “mm, seungie… s—so good, you feel so… good, good, mhmmph.” you were so gone, you press open-mouthed kisses on his chiseled jaw. 

heeseung moans at the nickname, you were so submissive, so sweet. “i know, baby. it feels good for me too.” 

you smile at heeseung’s reply, leaning your back pressed against his chest. you lock eyes with sunghoon, staring deep into his dark eyes, “how about you, hoonie?” 

sunghoon grunts as he looks up, “hm? what about me?” he says in between his quiet groans. you bring a hand up to his mouth, forcing your middle and ring finger in his mouth. you were light with your actions, just coating your fingers in his spit. he bit your finger lightly before pulling it out. 

you bring that same hand down to your swollen clit, rubbing small 8’s onto it. you moan loudly at the sensation it brought you, “mm, does it feel good for you too?” you blink your wet eyelashes at him.

he swore he almost came to that, “of course, you’re squeezing me so good,” he grinds his hips deeper, hitting that spongey part in your pussy. you held onto him, arching your back at the pleasure that pound brought you. 

“oh, yeah? right here?” he smirked as he hit it continuously, you clenched around the both of them, heeseung grips on your hips. 

“sweetheart, don’t do that. i’m gonna cum.” he whispered, the tightness you suddenly made and the feeling of sunghoon’s balls slapping onto his was getting him closer. you were clenching on the both of them on purpose. 

“cum in me, then…” you said as you grind your hips in different directions, it was so messy but perfect, some sways pleased sunghoon, some sways hit heeseung’s soft spot. 

sunghoon’s thrust were so sloppy, you could hear your own slick, “cum with me, baby. please, please, oh, god.” 

you were so close, sunghoon’s grunts and heeseung’s moans were music to your ears, it just pushed you more on the edge. 

“hoonie, don’t stop this time, please? i’m gonna cum with you, i promise. just— just don’t stop please.” you begged. that made sunghoon’s dick twitch, ‘i promise’, you were so desperate. 

“i won’t stop, baby. i’m so close, so… close.” 

heeseung’s hold on you was losing, “i’m— i’m cum—cumming, cumming… oh, fuck!” you felt the warm feeling drip down your ass, that’s what did it to you. 

“me too! i’m cumming! oh— i’m… mmmph!” you cried out, squeezing down on sunghoon as you came. 

sunghoon thrusted onto you one last time before his whole body shook, biting onto your shoulder. “argh, fuck!” he was sloppily thrusting, riding his high. 

heeseung collapsed on the bed, causing you to fall back on him, sunghoon doing the same. the three of you laid on top of each other. 

sunghoon pulled out, watching his cum drip out of you, he bent down to lick the cum away, before shoving his tongue in you. 

“mmm…” you whined, the feelings were too much. heeseung was still in you, unable to move.

he flipped the both of you to your sides, still staying in you. “i can’t pull out, i’m gonna sleep.” he murmurs in your ear, spooning you.

sunghoon stood up, going to the bathroom to wash his dick off, “i’m gonna smoke.” he announced before picking his clothes up, and wearing them again.

you and heeseung stay in the same position when you heard the door closing. both of you were drifting away when you heard your door open again. “you gotta window in ‘ere?” sunghoon asks. 

you lazily pointed at your window, just in front of your bed. 

“i’m smoking here, i missed the both of you when i got out.” sunghood said as he placed the cigarette in between his lips.

“you fucking softie.” heeseung sleepily teased, you laugh at the both of them. 

“get up from there and smoke with me, asshole.” sunghoon rolled his eyes at the both of you before turning his back at you, he’s now leaning at the edge of your window, arms crossed before him.

heeseung whispered into your ear, “wanna smoke?”. earning a nod from you, “i’m gonna stay in you, okay?” 

“mkey,” you giggle as heeseung was hugging your hip before sitting up. you were on his lap, his dick still throbbing in you, “pass us that.”

sunghoon turned around, the sight in front of him made him hard again. you were on heeseung’s lap, you legs tightly shut. your tits were perky and red, hickeys covered your neck and chest, your hair was collected at one side. heeseung’s chin on your shoulders, his arms wrapped around your waist. 

the two of you were patiently waiting for him to pass the cigarette. 

“get off of each other, god damn.” sunghoon passed the cigarette to you before turning around. 

“don’t act all innocent, i saw your dick stand up in those pants.”

[galbiyun]

(𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍) smut links

kinktober special 𝐒. 𝐉𝐊 !!

jake was fingering you in his room hole the members were in the living room, you wouldn’t shut up, so he made you.

jake was already hard, but he wouldn’t fuck you without tasting you first.

jake’s morning routine.

jake and you tried some aphrodisiac chocolates as a joke—you didn’t think they’d work that good.

jake loves eating you out—not only for your pleasure, his too.

++ what he sends you when he’s on tour—and horny.

taglist; @urfavlocalgirly @rikisriri  @icing217 @shhth @laylasbunbunny @lexixza @sosaphiee @sourrsoul @smlbch @nexlynn @xuminghaes @meim3ii @rikimuraaaa @rikigoonette @tessa365 @beaepa @rikismura @giyuutopfan @annovaz @ellayahhs @fatenha @emilyisntreal @felxvrs @hongjoongsprincess @enhaswifeyall @pinkpomelo @parkjjongswifey

[fiestanextdoorr]

nerd!bf soobin headcanons

" 'what a nerd' I say with barely controlled lust "

▸ pairings : brattyswitch!choi soobin x femdom!reader

▸ genre : smut with a lil plot, established bf!soobin

▸ words : 815 words, 4,507 characters

▸ CONTENT WARNINGS : 18+ 18+ 18+, soob is such a loser, yelling kink if that's even a thing, implied reader is on the thick side, big dick soobin, motorboating, noona kink, somnophilia (mild), breeding kink, pervy soobin, this is a short headcanon, based off of my full fic that's currently in the works !!

nerdbf!soobin who would push your buttons on purpose, watching your giggles turn into scoffs and eye rolls. he'd keep talking, a smirk taking place on his lips when he finally ticked you off just enough to get aggressive with him.

nerdbf!soobin who's hands just couldn't stay off the curves of your body. your pudgy stomach, plush thighs he would kill to bury his face in, big tits that wouldn't go a day without being groped, you were his personal body-sized pillow.

nerdbf!soobin who would spread his legs wide enough for you to see the bulge in his sweats as yet another argument had taken place. he'd watch your eyes travel down, slowly until they landed just where he intended them to. "keep yelling, it turns me on." "i love when you're mad at me, noona.. it's so hot."

nerdbf!soobin who wouldn't think twice before dropping to his knees in front of you, peppering gentle--wet kisses against the skin above your waistband, eyes not leaving yours for even a second, gauging every reaction on your face from an eyebrow twitch, to a lip bite.

nerdbf!soobin who'd beg for your consent, fingers hovering above your hips before you finally gave in, a nod sending him straight to heaven. his breath, hot and heavy, would practically kiss your sweet cunt, the perverted boy swallowing before taking in a deep sniff of your arousal.

nerdbf!soobin who would worship your body, leaving bites and purple hickeys wherever your skin showed. at this rate, he'd sulk in his game room if you would deny his daily request of having you crush him with your thighs. he'd purposefully buy you the miniest of skirts he could find, a bra-like top and flaunt you in public like one of his anime figurines. it didn't matter if people looked. in the end, he was the one eating you out until you screamed his name every night.

nerdbf!soobin who was so, so sensitive. the slightest touch of his hair would have him moaning, whining into the cleavage of your boobs. it could have been as simple as cuddling-- if your knee slid even the slightest bit further between his thighs, he was dry humping you until his eventual release.

nerdbf!soobin who loved kisses, giving and recieving. on the recieving end, his lips would form into a pout if he didn't have yours on them, desperately leaning into you once you caved. he needed a kiss when cooking, he needed a kiss watching you get dressed for a date, he needed a kiss when he wasn't feeling well. he couldn't live without your lips. on the giving end, his kisses were always at random times, in random places. you could be yelling at him, a kiss to your palm. you could be eating, a kiss to your nose. you could be showering, he'd hop in just to kiss your waist. his personal favorites were when you were sleeping, quiet and peacefully. then he'd place a kiss to your clothed cunt.

makeouts were different. they were hungry, he was starving. he'd let you lead the way until he got tired of being patient, pulling away from your kiss swollen lips with a grunt, only to snatch his crooked glasses off the bridge of his nose, tossing them to the floor. he knew he'd regret that later. but giving you his utmost attention was his top priority.

nerdbf!soobin who wasn't afraid to show you just how big he was, how much of a man he could be. but even then, with you on your knees, sat all pretty between his legs, he wouldn't dare force his cock down your throat (as much as he wanted to)-- hips bucking up needily as you kissed the mushroom head of his dick.

nerdbf!soobin who stretched you out everytime you had sex, your fingers immediately flying to his wrist, bracing yourself as that was only the tip. you were already soaking, hole clenching and squeezing the length he continued to shove deeper inside. an inch, then another, then the rest until he eventually bottomed out balls deep inside your cunt. he could've came at that alone. his palm flattened against your lower abdomen, allowing himself to feel his thick dick bulging in your tummy. he fumbled with your hand, absentmindly replacing his with yours. it burned, but a soothing burn the second he began to move, slow, coordinate movements.

nerdbf!soobin who'd cry as he begged to cum inside you, to pump you full of his babies, knowing you needed this just as bad as he did. he was a mess the second he busted thick, hot ropes of semen into your belly, eyes rolling and his head falling back before collapsing onto your body. your breaths were uneven, shallow as he slowly softened inside your pussy.

"..wanna watch hentai with me?"

[mssishipi]

payback! — psh

Fortunately, you got the best, filthiest fuck of your life with your boyfriend’s friends. Unfortunately, Sunghoon doesn’t tolerate sneaky sluts. ─── In which Sunghoon's dick does all the disciplining :)

content tags/warnings: cheating, vouyerism (video), mention of double penetration, sunghoon smokes, jayke cameo, slut shaming, objectification, nymphomania implications. uhm. angst at the end? explicit content (smut): revenge unprotected sex, spitting, slapping, headlocking, throat fucking, mild pussy eating, squirting, power imbalance, creampie, dub conish. MDNI. WC: 5.4K

“Ahh—fuck! Harder! Want it harder! Please, please, please!”

Sunghoon sat low on the sofa, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. His other hand clutched the phone tightly, knuckles slightly white around the edges. His gaze was fixed, unmoving, pupils dilated.

He took a long, deliberate drag from his vape. Smoke filled his lungs, a bitter warmth crawling up his throat as he leaned his head back and exhaled slowly toward the ceiling, watching the vapor curling at the air.

His jaw tightened, thumb hovering, he paused the video at just the right moment: your mouth stretched open, eyes glazed and hungry. Jay was buried deep inside you, and you were still trying to force Jake’s cock past your lips like you couldn’t get enough.

Sunghoon should’ve known better than to trust a fucking slut like you.

He let the video play, it was torture, but he didn’t stop. He watched—watched you, his girlfriend, on your hands and knees, getting railed back and forth by the two people he called "friends".

Every sound bled through the speaker: your squeals, your moans, the choked-out begs between thrusts. You sounded wrecked, gone, cockdrunk out of your mind.

“Jay, man, take a video of me too,” Jake muttered.

The camera shook as it switched angles. Sunghoon blinked slowly. You yelped when Jake pushed into you from behind, face buried into a pillow, your ass bouncing from the impact. His grip clamped tight around your waist, dragging you into every thrust.

Jake bit his lip, one hand locking on your hip as he slammed into you harder. When he noticed the camera again, he flashed a quick grin, threw up a lazy west side sign, and laughed, right before burying himself even deeper.

Sunghoon didn’t realize his hand had moved until the sound of shattering glass snapped through the room. His phone hit the wall hard and fell to the floor in pieces.

He stood there, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on the broken fragments scattered across the floor. His pulse throbbed in his ears, Fuck his friends. Fuck everything. And fuck you for letting them touch you. For letting them use you like that. Was his dick not enough? Was his attention not enough? You couldn’t stop at one—you had to take both of them?

His hands curled into fists at his sides. Heat crawled up his neck, his fingers trembled at rage, disbelief, something else he didn’t want to name. And God—fuck him, for the way his cock throbbed through it all.

—

“Baby! Miss you, miss you, miss you so much! How was your trip?”

Your voice spilled out with that same sugary tone you always used. You threw your arms around his neck, clinging tight, lips grazing his cheek, trailing up to his jaw, then to his mouth, like you had no idea what you’d done. Like you hadn’t fucked two of his friends like the filthy little cum-soaked toy you were.

Sunghoon stood still.

Not because he didn’t feel anything—but because he felt too much. Anger sat thick behind his ribs, it made his skin itch. Made his muscles tighten. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. His jaw locked as he stared past you, eyes locked on the clock ticking against the wall. Each second felt louder than your voice. Each tick reminded him to hold the line.

Your perfume clung to him, so sweet that it made him fucking sick.

God, you really had the audacity. Clinging to him like you missed him. As if those bruises on your hips weren’t from someone else’s hands. As if your throat hadn’t been used just days ago while he was away.

Pathetic.

That’s all he could think. You were pathetic.

A lying, moaning, desperate little slut who’d do anything for attention. Spread your legs for the first hand that touched you, then crawl back to him with that same fake innocence in your eyes. How many times had he fallen for it? How many times had you smiled up at him with those soft lips, pretending to be his and his alone?

He almost laughed again.

“Did you miss me?” you whispered against his ear, voice sweet like sugar melting over rot. You didn’t even know what you’d walked into.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

You beamed at him. He smiled back, just enough to keep the game going. Just enough to keep his hands from wrapping around your throat.

You didn’t deserve anger, not the full weight of it. You didn’t deserve to be screamed at or broken down. No. You deserved to be seen for exactly what you were and stripped of the illusion you wore so well.

That’s why Sunghoon was quiet now, laid back against the headboard, watching you beautifully ride his dick.

You rode him with that same practiced rhythm, hips rising and falling, skin gleaming with sweat. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers curling against his skin as you moaned his name.

“Ahh! Hoonie!” you gasped, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut.

Sunghoon eyebrow twitch at the way your pussy clings to his dick. His jaw slackened, eyes traveling from the way your breasts bounced with every grind, down to where your slick folds swallowed his cock, again and again.

His grip on your waist tighten, He wondered if you even knew you were showing him your tells. The little things—how your hands trembled slightly, how your moans pitched too perfectly, how your eyes kept darting open to check his face when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Guilt, maybe. Or fear. Or just the habit of someone used to performing for an audience.

He let his thumb slide along your waist. “You’re working hard tonight,” he said finally, “trying to earn something?”

You froze for half a second. Then gave a breathy laugh, hips rolling again. You threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed that spot deep inside you, the one that made your thighs shake.

Sunghoon leaned in close, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Keep going,” he whispered. “I want to see how far you’ll go pretending like you haven’t fucked any man behind my back.”

Your breath caught hard in your throat. Eyes shot open, wide, startled—exposed. Panic spilled into your face faster than you could mask it. You looked to the side, slowly, like maybe you’d misheard, like maybe he hadn’t just said what he said.

Sunghoon sat back slightly, his eyes fixed on yours, that smirk on his face was evident and it wasn't playful, it was cruel.

You scrambled instinctively, trying to lift yourself off him, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear your own breath.

Sunghoon hands clamped around your waist. In one swift, punishing motion, he dragged you back down onto his cock, forcing you to take him all the way to the base. You let out a sharp squeal, a breathy cry of surprise as your walls clenched around him. Your hands braced against his chest, legs trembling around his hips.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. “You were doing so well.”

He began to thrust up into you, deep, grinding against that spot that made your body betray you. You couldn’t stop the way your breath hitched, the way your eyes fluttered shut even as shame colored your face.

“S-Sunghoon…”

“Shhh, baby,” Sunghoon whispered, almost gentle. A sick mockery of comfort. His hand slid up your thigh, then curled around your waist again. “Just ride it out. You’re so good at it.”

He smiled up at you hazy. Enjoyment, yes, but laced with contempt.

“You fucked them like this too?” he asked softly “Bounced on their cocks just like this?” His eyes dragged over your body, taking in the way your tits moved with every thrust, the way your mouth opened like you couldn’t breathe. “Moaned their names the way you moan mine?”

You whimpered, trying to press against his chest, to pull back but the moment your hips lifted, he slammed back up into you sharply. You cried out, your hands trembling where they pressed against him.

“Oh? What’s wrong?” he breathed, tightening his grip on your hips to keep you from moving. “It was easy when it was Jay, right? When it was Jake choking you on his cock. You didn’t stop them.”

He fucked up into you harder now, each thrust punishing. “But now you’re shy? Now you can’t take it?”

His other hand moved between your legs, thumb brushing your clit, with just enough pressure to send your body jolting. A cry left your throat, your hips twitched instinctively, confused between pulling away and pushing closer.

Sunghoon watched every reaction. His smile widened when your head dropped forward, shoulders shaking, your entire body caught in the unbearable space between pleasure and shame.

You whimpered, a sound choked with emotion—humiliation, arousal, panic. Everything at once. Your thoughts scattered, dizzy, your chest heaving as tears welled in your eyes threatening to fall.

“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” Sunghoon murmured. “On my cock. After spreading your legs for my friends like a filthy, greedy little thing—you’re still going to fall apart for me.”

His thrusts didn’t stop. He kept you pinned, grinding deep inside you, thumb flicking against your swollen clit.

“You are a slut, aren’t you?” he breathed. “Mine or not—you were made for this. Made to take cock. Any cock. As long as it fills you up.”

Your body jerked as a sob hitched in your throat, but before you could look away, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back.

His eyes were on fire. Cold rage underneath that made you whimper in fear. “Look me in the eyes,” he said. “I want to see what’s left. What’s left of your fucking dignity when I make you cum on the cock you were supposed to stay loyal to.”

You trembled under his gaze, lips parting, chest stuttering for breath as his thumb circled harder, relentless, synced with each thrust.

Your orgasm built fast, twisted in shame. You couldn’t hold back the moan that tore from your throat as your walls fluttered violently around his cock.

“S-sorry… I—I am… I’m sorry,” you whimpered, voice breaking as your orgasm dragged through you. Your body was shaking, overwhelmed, your skin burning with the heat.

Your head felt light as if you might float away if not for the solid grip of his hands anchoring you to him. He was still thrusting into you, slower now, but just as deep—riding your high, using your own climax as fuel to fuck you further into submission.

“Sorry?” Sunghoon echoed, a dark, breathless laugh curling from his throat. “That’s it?”

You choked on another moan, trying to pull away, but he held you tight, one hand still in your hair, the other sliding to your throat again keeping you in place like a doll.

“That’s your apology? You cum on my cock like a fucking whore and think sorry makes it better?”

He tilted his head, eyes locked on your tear-streaked face. “You begged them too, didn’t you?” he continued, “Bet you moaned for Jay just like that. Bet you looked up at Jake with those same cute innocent eyes."

He thrust up harder, forcing a strangled moan from your throat, and you hated that it felt good.

“That’s what makes you sorry?” he hissed. “Not the cheating. Not the lies. Not the way you spread your legs the second I was gone. No—you’re sorry because I found out.”

Your lips parted to deny it, but nothing came. Just another whimper, another shaky breath.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Say what you are.”

You blinked at him, glassy-eyed, barely able to think past the ache between your legs, the fog in your brain.

Sunghoon’s hand came down hard across your breast, the sharp smack echoing through the room. You cried out, gasping as your back arching from the sting, skin blooming with heat where his palm landed.

“Say it.”

“I’m a slut,” you whispered, eyes shutting tight.

He didn’t move right away. Just sat beneath you, cock still buried deep, like a man in complete control. Then he leaned in, face close, his lips brushing your ear. “What?” he murmured. “Louder.”

You hesitated, swallowing the shame thick in your throat.

“I—” your voice caught, but his grip on your waist tightened, and he gave one slow, grinding thrust up into you that made your stomach clench and your throat tighten.

“Don’t make me ask again,” he said, each word coiled with threat.

“I’m a slut,” you said louder this time, voice shaking.

He chuckled, he brought both hands down hard on your ass, your body jolting forward instinctively. “Now ride it, bitch,” he said flatly.

He laid back, arms folding behind his head, eyes locked on you. You sobbed softly, body trembling, tears dripping from your chin. Your legs felt like they were giving out beneath you, but you moved, slowly, awkwardly, lifting your hips and sinking back down onto his cock. You whimpered from the stretch, your body clenching in protest.

It wasn’t pleasure anymore. Not really.

Your slick had dried, leaving just the raw friction of swollen flesh and too much use. Each downward push made you flinch, made your breath hitch. But you moved anyway, grinding your hips weakly, trying to obey.

“Why are you crying?” Sunghoon muttered.

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t even look at him. You kept your eyes down, throat tight, lips trembling as more tears rolled down your cheeks.

“After everything you did, you’ve got the fucking audacity to cry?”

You flinched, but kept moving, trying to hold yourself up as your knees wobbled.

“I make you cum—again—even after what you did, and this is what I get?” he sneered. “You ride me so fucking ugly. Limp, clumsy, pathetic."

You blinked through your tears, heart sinking deeper into your chest.

“This is how you repay me?” he continued. “Slutting around behind my back, then giving me this?” His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into sore flesh

You gasped, hands trembling where they braced against his chest.

“If you’re so sorry,” Sunghoon said flatly, “then show it. Stop running your filthy mouth. It’s disgusting.”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Off,” he ordered. “This is getting fucking boring.”

Your breath caught, but you obeyed. Your legs shook as you slowly lifted yourself off of him, wincing from the rawness and the ache. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, swallowing hard, trying to steady your breath.

Sunghoon stepped off the bed, ignoring you entirely as he grabbed his vape from the nightstand. He took a long drag, smoke curled around his lips as he exhaled, head tilted slightly, eyes locked on you.

You stared at him, uncertain. His gaze didn’t soften, the moment your eyes met his, your stomach turned. That look—cold, disgusted, fully aware of your every weakness—made your skin crawl. You instinctively tried to cover your body with your arms, shrinking under the weight of it all.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Kneel.”

You hesitated.

“Kneel,” he repeated, slower, deadlier.

You dropped to your knees, the floor cool against your skin. Your palms settled on your thighs, head lowered, trying not to cry again.

He took another drag before stepping closer, towering over you. "You know what to do. Hmm?"

You nodded faintly, lips already parting as instinct took over. You leaned forward, pressing your mouth to the tip of his cock, licking slowly around the head, soft, tentative, almost apologetic.

Above you, Sunghoon sighed, his head tilting back slightly, mouth parting. His hand slid into your hair, fingers tangling at the roots. His hips rolled forward without warning, forcing more of him past your lips.

You choked softly but didn’t stop. You pressed your tongue along the underside, taking him deeper, your jaw stretching. Your eyes fluttered shut, tears slipping again.

You heard him breathe out again, pleased but quiet, watching the way you submitted—how your cheeks hollowed, how spit clung to your lips and chin.

“Deeper,” he muttered. “Don’t make me do all the work.”

You moved, slow but desperate to please, sucking him in until your lips touched the base, your nose brushing his skin. Your throat tightened, gagging softly, but you held him there, swallowing around him. Your hands instinctively gripped his thighs, nails pressing into the skin as you tried to steady yourself through the strain in your jaw and the tightness in your throat.

“Keep your hands off me.”

Sunghoon’s voice cut through. You froze, then slowly let your hands fall, resting them on your own thighs instead. The position made you feel even smaller, more exposed. Forced to hold yourself steady without any support, you sank deeper into the reality of what this was.

He didn’t look down at you with affection. There was no care in his touch, no softness in his grip. He simply pushed your head forward again, guiding you down until you were swallowing him whole.

Even with the heat in your cheeks, even as tears lined your lashes and your chest tightened with shame, you felt the ache between your legs.

The growing slickness, the way your pussy clenching with each shallow breath you took.

You hated how the humiliation bled into arousal, how the sting of his words and the weight of his control made your body want.

You sucked him deeper, every wet glide of your tongue along the underside of his shaft made your own thighs press together. Your slick coated your folds.

Sunghoon’s fingers tightened in your hair again, holding your head still as he began to thrust slowly into your mouth, using you at his pace.

“Ahh—fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth, head falling back as the pleasure surged low in his gut. His stomach tightened, breath ragged. He bit down on his bottom lip, then forced his gaze back down.

There you were—eyes wide, teary, locked on him.

Your lips stretched around his cock, spit dripping down your chin, but your gaze didn’t falter. Those wide, innocent eyes. That soft expression. The contradiction of it all. His thighs tensed, another shaky breath escaping him—half sigh, half moan.

God, you looked perfect.

Too perfect.

Perfect in a way that made his chest ache. You were beautiful—painfully so. Beautiful in your face, your mouth, your movements. Beautiful in how you took him, how your tongue still moved even when your jaw had to hurt, how you kept trying to please him no matter how much you were falling apart.

It infuriated him.

You were so beautiful, it made him angry.

Sunghoon took a long drag from his vape, chest rising slowly as the heat burned in his lungs. The smoke curled in his throat while his other hand tightened in your hair, and he began to move faster.

Your whines were muffled around his cock as you struggled to take him, the slick, wet gagging sounds filling the room. He exhaled the smoke in a slow stream, the haze rising as his head fell back, a groan tearing from his chest.

The pleasure was overwhelming. Your mouth, your heat, the way your throat tightened around him—it all crashed into him at once. Every sound you made echoed through his body, feeding every lust on his brainstream.

His muscles tensed, jaw clenched, hips grinding forward again and again, chasing that high while watching you choke on him.

Painfully perfect.

Sunghoon took a drag from his vape again, his other hand gripped the back of your head, and without warning, he pushed you down until your nose pressed to his skin.

His hips stilled. He let out a long, guttural moan as he came, the pleasure crashing through him in heavy waves. Warmth spilled into your throat, his breath caught in his chest, and the smoke slipped out around his lips before it ever reached his lungs—lost in the force of the moment.

His stomach flexed, fingers tightening in your hair as he held you there, making sure you swallowed everything.

“Fuck,” he groaned, eyes half-lidded, chest heaving.

The room fell quiet for a moment, just the sound of his breath, the faint hiss of the vape in his hand, and your muffled gasp as he finally let you go.

You pulled back slowly, coughing once, spit trailing from your lips as you caught your breath, face flushed and soaked, lips swollen from use.

Sunghoon looked down at you—still high off the orgasm, but his gaze already sharpening again. “On the bed,” he said. “Lay on your back. Spread your legs.”

You hesitated for a moment, throat dry. Slowly, you stood, legs trembling beneath you. Your mouth opened as your voice cracked out. “L-Love…”

His expression shifted instantly. The glare he gave you made your breath catch, your body stiffen. “Who said you could talk?” he snapped. “I gave you an order. Lay down. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You swallowed hard, heart thudding in your chest. The word stayed frozen on your tongue as you climbed onto the bed. You lay back slowly, your hands slid to your thighs, hesitating again until you saw him watching.

Without another word, you parted your legs, exposing yourself fully, the slick between your thighs sticking to your skin, making everything feel vulnerable.

Sunghoon stared down at you, his thoughts turned over themselves again, looping in quiet intensity.

You were pathetic. And somehow, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. That contradiction burned in him. You had the perfect face for submission. The perfect body for ruin. The perfect pussy.

Sunghoon climbed onto the bed slowly, knees sinking into the mattress as he settled between your legs. His eyes never left your face, watching every twitch, every breath. You gasped softly as his hands reached for you, fingers sliding along the inside of your thighs before spreading you wider with both hands.

His thumbs parted you carefully, deliberately, exposing the soft pink flesh that throbbed under his gaze.

Your chest rose and fell with short, anxious breaths. Heat flushed across your skin as his eyes moved lower, tracking every inch of you. He leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting over your slick entrance, close enough to make you twitch.

“Mine,” Sunghoon growled, the word thick with possession.

You moaned at just the sound of it—your body reacting before he even touched you.

His mouth found you, tongue dragged along your folds, swirling over your labia with deliberate pressure. The heat of his mouth, the wet glide of his tongue—it sent a pulse straight through your core. Your hips jerked upward, instinctive, desperate for more.

"'Hoonie!"

His nose pressed against your clit as he pushed his face deeper into you, letting your thighs squeeze around his head. The rough drag of his tongue, the way he flicked it just beneath your clit before flattening it again—it made your eyes roll back, a breathless cry tumbling from your lips.

Sunghoon’s hands slid up your body, settling on either side of your breasts. He kneaded them with slow, heavy pressure, watching you from beneath his lashes, eyes half-lidded.

He flicked his tongue faster, lips locking around your clit, sucking it once. Then his fingers found your nipples, pinching them lightly between his thumbs and forefingers. Your back arched instantly, the sudden stimulation shooting straight through your chest.

You cried out, overwhelmed, hips grinding against his mouth, trying to chase more of that friction. His grip tightened.

He moaned low into your pussy, the vibration making your whole body jolt, heat surging across your skin as your walls fluttered in response.

You almost believed for a second that the Sunghoon you knew had returned.

It was the way he pressed soft kisses to your inner thigh after you came, the way his hands shifted you from position to position with steady control, the way he fucked you so deep and slow that your vision blurred. You saw stars. Again. And again.

But it wasn’t the same.

The Sunghoon you remembered didn’t talk like this. Didn’t whisper filth into your ear with each thrust. Didn’t slap your ass raw or choke you until your moans turned to broken gasps.

Still, you took it. You let him. Because deep down, you knew that you deserved it.

“Ahh—s-stop, p-please…”

You’d lost count of how many times you’d come, how many times he’d flipped you over, dragged you back, split you open on his cock without pause.

Maybe it was the frustration in him. Maybe it was the shame in your eyes. Maybe he liked how breakable you looked under him, how pliant your body had become, how you still clung to him with every breath. Something about that flipped a switch in him. Whatever restraint he had was long gone now.

And once that restraint broke, he discovered things.

He saw it clearly.

You were a slut in the most literal sense, a body that didn’t know when to stop. A mouth that begged him to slow down while your pussy clenched tighter the rougher he fucked you. You kept saying you needed a break, that it was too much but you bounced harder on his cock every time he called you a liar.

And he was learning fast. The more he overstimulated you, the more honest you became.

The shame turned into hunger. The cries turned into moans. And your begging… it was starting to sound less like desperation.

“More… more—please, g-give me… nghh, more!”

Sunghoon kept his forehead pressed to your shoulder as he drove into you from behind. His hips snapped against your ass, each thrust deeper than the last, his chest slick with sweat against your back.

He bit his lip hard, eyes dropping to watch your body unravel. Your head lolled forward, hair damp and clinging to your neck, mouth falling open with every jolt of his cock hitting deep.

He gritted his teeth, groaning low as your pussy clamped down hard around him, spasming again.

He didn’t miss the way your moans kept rising—louder, sloppier—your voice barely forming real words anymore, just needy sounds spilling from your throat.

Your whole body was trembling, overstimulated past reason. He hadn’t even touched your clit, and yet you came again, your walls fluttering around him as your ass rocked back into his hips, trying to keep him inside just a little longer, trying to stretch the pleasure further. Your mind was so far gone, he almost wondered if you even knew where you were.

High, like on him. On the way his cock punished you. The way he filled you over and over until you didn’t care what you looked like, what you sounded like, or how broken you were getting.

“More! More!” you squealed again, the pitch cracked.

Sunghoon clicked his tongue, his arm came up fast, locking around your neck, bicep flexed tight across your throat as he pulled you back into him.

You gasped, then moaned louder despite the pressure. Your hands shot up to his arm, nails digging into the muscle, but you didn’t try to stop him.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled into your ear, hips pounding forward even harder. His cock dragged along that sensitive spot inside you with cruel precision, over and over again, and you squeezed him so tight he nearly saw white.

“Fucking hell,” he moaned through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna milk me dry like this.”

You whimpered something, eyes rolling again, mouth slack, tears mixing with sweat down your cheeks.

Sunghoon realized he could keep going for hours, and you’d never stop asking for more.

“Gonna cum, g-gonna cum!”

Sunghoon’s arms locked around you tighter, dragging your body down as he shifted his weight over you, pressing your chest into the mattress. His full weight settled on top of you, forcing your legs wider, holding you down. Your breath hitched. Vision blurred. The pressure in your core spiked as your stomach tensed, nerves screaming from the inside out.

And then it hit.

The orgasm ripped through you, your back arched beneath him, toes curling, fingers clawing at the sheets. You tried to scream, tried to say something—but your lungs wouldn’t cooperate. The air caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat. Every nerve in your body burned.

Your pussy clenched so tightly around him, it was unbearable. He didn’t stop.

“Ahhh—fuck!”

A rush of liquid spilled out of you, your body jerking, forcing his cock to slip halfway free. But Sunghoon growled under his breath and drove back in, ignoring how your walls convulsed violently around him, squeezing him too hard to be comfortable.

You tapped his arm, again, again, frantic, but he didn’t slow.

He kept thrusting, rough and deep, chasing his own high. His moans got louder, breath ragged against the back of your neck, hips slamming into you with a rhythm that felt merciless.

Drool slipped from your parted lips, dripping to the sheets beneath you as your body went limp beneath him. You tried to form words, to beg, but your voice came out broken, slurred.

“H-hurt…”

Sunghoon paused only for a second, but then he pulled out halfway, slammed back in, grabbing your hips and lifting them higher, changing the angle. His thrusts became faster, more direct, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room.

You gasped, eyes wide and unfocused, body jerking with every motion. Your body trembled under him, your legs shook, unable to hold form, collapsing slightly with each heavy snap of his hips.

Sunghoon gripped your waist harder, knuckles pale, holding you steady as he fucked deeper.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he moaned. “Gonna fuck you so full you won’t even remember their names.”

Your eyes rolled back, vision going white at the edges. The ringing in your ears drowned out everything but the heavy beat of your pulse.

Until you felt the sharp grunt against your skin. The way his cock throbbed as warmth spilled inside you. His whole body trembled, every muscle locked tight. His grip on your throat and waist tightened with that final release, pouring everything into you—rage, frustration, need—all of it buried inside you.

You swore you almost blacked out.

Your body went limp the second he let go of your neck. His cock slipped out of you, overstimulated and leaking, and without warning, he flipped you onto your back. You landed against the mattress roughly, arms falling open—one near your head, the other across your stomach, completely drained.

Your skin was pale, cold in some places, burning in others. Your chest rose and fell in shaky, uneven breaths. Eyes unfocused and drifting.

Sunghoon stood over you, chest heaving, his body shining with sweat. The bedsheet beneath you was soaked between the sweat, the slick, the mess of it all, everything was drenched.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, jaw tight. His eyes dropped to your pussy still twitching, so red, his cum starting to leak out, pooling beneath you.

Still riding the edge of his rage, he leaned forward and spat right onto your stomach. The wet splatter hit your skin, sliding down over the curve of your hip.

A single tear slipped from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t flinch. You just laid there, still and open, chest rising in shallow, erratic breaths.

Sunghoon stepped back, reaching for his vape, fingers trembling slightly. He took a long drag, turning away as smoke filled his lungs. His jaw stayed clenched, shoulders tight as he tried to center himself.

“N-need… m-more cock…”

He froze. Slowly, he turned, eyes narrowing.

You hadn’t moved. Still flat on your back, limbs slack, eyes unfocused. But the tears kept coming, streaming quietly down the sides of your face. Your lips were curved into a strange, hazy smile.

“Want… more…” you breathed.

Without thinking, Sunghoon moved back to you. His vape clattered onto the nightstand as he dropped to the bed, hands gripping your waist. He pulled you into him, cradling your body, his chest pressing to yours. His arms wrapped around you tightly.

You kept whispering soft, broken words that made no sense. Repeating yourself and pleading.

Your body twitched slightly, your hips shifting even now, instinctively seeking more.

Sunghoon just held you tighter, burying his face into your neck and breathing in your scent, grounding himself in your warmth and in the truth of what you were.

[kaysaudiiz]

━ׄ━━۪۪۪۪╾ JAYKE AUDIO ( REQUESTED ) ؕ ▊▍ 𑣿

︵ ུ 🦴 MINORS DNI ๋ ◞ ⸝⸝ 𞥊ׅ ۪

៸៸ hello new audio someone requested this so here ៸៸

[gyuuchuuu]

can u do a subby nerdy hot jake audio?? Just him in glasses, especially the thick black rimmed one.. got me wet & fantasising every damn time. Yes. Anything for him im down, 1 CHANCE PLZ JAKE 🙏🏻🙏🏻

i hope this lives up to your ask anon 🙏 yes thick black frame glasses jake has me creaming and squelching and busting on the spot

MDNI // nsfw audio

him touching himself to the thought of you in class mmmh

[ryuk0zz]

jaywon audio

minors DNI

contains mxm, loud moans, wet noises . . .

dom!jay x sub!jungwon

endless errands drained jungwon to the bone—mind hazy, body trembling on the verge of collapse. exhaustion was always merciless when it took over him, and sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford. that was why late night sessions like these existed; jay never failed to relieve the pent-up tension from jungwon's body, and it usually resulted in the latter utterly wrecked and debauched. like a rabbit in heat, jay always made sure to bring jungwon to heaven and back—and he did a pretty damn good job at it.

[kaysaudiiz]

━ׄ━━۪۪۪۪╾ JAYKE AUDIO ( NON REQUEST ) ؕ ▊▍ 𑣿

︵ ུ 🦴 MINORS DNI ๋ ◞ ⸝⸝ 𞥊ׅ ۪

៸៸ Another Jayke ver ៸៸

[shortonwon]

5 and 18 with riki..? (´ε｀ )♡

WARNINGS: MDNI! smut, cheating, sister’s boyfriend, exhibitionism (open window), unprotected sex, hand over the mouth, guilt themes.. . . WORD COUNT: 500+

THE MASTERLIST ! 💤 almost all prompts taken !

You shouldn’t even have let him into your room, but here you were—your sister asleep down the hall while you were bent over the windowsill, curtains parted just enough to let the city spill its light over your bare skin. Your panties hung around your ankles, useless now, your pussy already slick from the relentless teasing he’d given you with the heavy length of his cock pressed against your folds.

Your sister’s boyfriend. Riki.

His chest molded against your back, broad and hot, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as his filthy whispers made your thighs tremble. His hips slammed into you in a steady, brutal pace, his cock splitting you open in deep, deliberate strokes that had your breasts bouncing with every thrust. His hands never stayed still—one squeezing your tits roughly, his thumb pinching your nipple until you cried out, the other dragging down your stomach until his fingers smeared through your slick, just where his cock disappeared into you.

“Fuck—” his groan was deep, guttural, spilling into your ear as his balls slapped wetly against your ass. “God, you’re so tight for me. You like this, huh? Letting me fuck you where anyone could see?”

The thought had your shame twisting, but your pussy clenched greedily around him, soaking his cock even more. You could see yourself faintly in the reflection of the glass, cheeks wet with tears, lips parted, your tits pushed against the cool window while your body shuddered with every thrust.

“Be honest,” Riki murmured, grinding his hips just to drag the head of his cock right against that spot that made your vision blur. “Are you going to cum just from me moaning like this in your ear?”

You whimpered, almost sobbing as his filthy words worked your body up further, and then his hand slipped lower, fingers circling your clit in rough little circles that made your knees buckle. He groaned when your pussy pulsed around him, when your ass pressed flush against his hips, when your scream threatened to spill out—only for his palm to slap over your mouth, muffling the sound as you came hard, convulsing on his cock.

Your thighs shook violently, cum dripping down between them as Riki fucked you through it, one hand pinning both your wrists flat against the glass. “That’s it… that’s it, good girl. So fucking pretty when you fall apart on my cock.”

Your chest heaved, sweat dripping down your back, shame biting into your ribs. Tears clung to your lashes because you knew what this meant—you had betrayed your sister, her boyfriend buried inside you, using you against the window like you were made for this.

“What would they think if they saw you right now?” His tone was dark, amused, hips never slowing as he pounded into your messy cunt. “My girlfriend’s little sister, bent over for me, taking it like she’s mine. Letting me do whatever I want.”

The words sent another shockwave of heat through you, your body clenching helplessly even as tears spilled down your cheeks. You wanted to scream, wanted to beg—but his palm stayed firm over your mouth, only muffled cries slipping out as he pushed you open wider and fucked you deeper.

“Shh,” Riki smirked, lips brushing the side of your neck as his cock nudged that spot inside you over and over. “Keep your voice down, sweetheart. Or she’ll hear every little sound you make.”

And god help you—your traitorous body obeyed, grinding back against him, because nothing had ever felt this good.

© shortonwon | all rights reserved !

[fiestanextdoorr]

nerd!bf soobin headcanons

" 'what a nerd' I say with barely controlled lust "

▸ pairings : brattyswitch!choi soobin x femdom!reader

▸ genre : smut with a lil plot, established bf!soobin

▸ words : 815 words, 4,507 characters

▸ CONTENT WARNINGS : 18+ 18+ 18+, soob is such a loser, yelling kink if that's even a thing, implied reader is on the thick side, big dick soobin, motorboating, noona kink, somnophilia (mild), breeding kink, pervy soobin, this is a short headcanon, based off of my full fic that's currently in the works !!

nerdbf!soobin who would push your buttons on purpose, watching your giggles turn into scoffs and eye rolls. he'd keep talking, a smirk taking place on his lips when he finally ticked you off just enough to get aggressive with him.

nerdbf!soobin who's hands just couldn't stay off the curves of your body. your pudgy stomach, plush thighs he would kill to bury his face in, big tits that wouldn't go a day without being groped, you were his personal body-sized pillow.

nerdbf!soobin who would spread his legs wide enough for you to see the bulge in his sweats as yet another argument had taken place. he'd watch your eyes travel down, slowly until they landed just where he intended them to. "keep yelling, it turns me on." "i love when you're mad at me, noona.. it's so hot."

nerdbf!soobin who wouldn't think twice before dropping to his knees in front of you, peppering gentle--wet kisses against the skin above your waistband, eyes not leaving yours for even a second, gauging every reaction on your face from an eyebrow twitch, to a lip bite.

nerdbf!soobin who'd beg for your consent, fingers hovering above your hips before you finally gave in, a nod sending him straight to heaven. his breath, hot and heavy, would practically kiss your sweet cunt, the perverted boy swallowing before taking in a deep sniff of your arousal.

nerdbf!soobin who would worship your body, leaving bites and purple hickeys wherever your skin showed. at this rate, he'd sulk in his game room if you would deny his daily request of having you crush him with your thighs. he'd purposefully buy you the miniest of skirts he could find, a bra-like top and flaunt you in public like one of his anime figurines. it didn't matter if people looked. in the end, he was the one eating you out until you screamed his name every night.

nerdbf!soobin who was so, so sensitive. the slightest touch of his hair would have him moaning, whining into the cleavage of your boobs. it could have been as simple as cuddling-- if your knee slid even the slightest bit further between his thighs, he was dry humping you until his eventual release.

nerdbf!soobin who loved kisses, giving and recieving. on the recieving end, his lips would form into a pout if he didn't have yours on them, desperately leaning into you once you caved. he needed a kiss when cooking, he needed a kiss watching you get dressed for a date, he needed a kiss when he wasn't feeling well. he couldn't live without your lips. on the giving end, his kisses were always at random times, in random places. you could be yelling at him, a kiss to your palm. you could be eating, a kiss to your nose. you could be showering, he'd hop in just to kiss your waist. his personal favorites were when you were sleeping, quiet and peacefully. then he'd place a kiss to your clothed cunt.

makeouts were different. they were hungry, he was starving. he'd let you lead the way until he got tired of being patient, pulling away from your kiss swollen lips with a grunt, only to snatch his crooked glasses off the bridge of his nose, tossing them to the floor. he knew he'd regret that later. but giving you his utmost attention was his top priority.

nerdbf!soobin who wasn't afraid to show you just how big he was, how much of a man he could be. but even then, with you on your knees, sat all pretty between his legs, he wouldn't dare force his cock down your throat (as much as he wanted to)-- hips bucking up needily as you kissed the mushroom head of his dick.

nerdbf!soobin who stretched you out everytime you had sex, your fingers immediately flying to his wrist, bracing yourself as that was only the tip. you were already soaking, hole clenching and squeezing the length he continued to shove deeper inside. an inch, then another, then the rest until he eventually bottomed out balls deep inside your cunt. he could've came at that alone. his palm flattened against your lower abdomen, allowing himself to feel his thick dick bulging in your tummy. he fumbled with your hand, absentmindly replacing his with yours. it burned, but a soothing burn the second he began to move, slow, coordinate movements.

nerdbf!soobin who'd cry as he begged to cum inside you, to pump you full of his babies, knowing you needed this just as bad as he did. he was a mess the second he busted thick, hot ropes of semen into your belly, eyes rolling and his head falling back before collapsing onto your body. your breaths were uneven, shallow as he slowly softened inside your pussy.

"..wanna watch hentai with me?"

[lassiie]

TagList save lives wattpad A03

Again, please!! nsfw fics, I write from light to much much darker content, read at your own risk, loves...

MASTERLIST BELOW

TRAPPED. Hacker!stepbro! Heeseung x reader Your antisocial new stepbro pretends he’s not obsessed while secretly hacking you, jerking off to your secrets, and discovering about your desire. He’s obsessed… And you’ll use it.

SPECIAL FAN SERVICE ! fan!Heeseung x Camgirl!Reader x fan!Jay The one where you’re popular camgirl. You drop a conquest : a private challenge to see who deserves one night alone with you. Hee and Jay ? They apply. Together! And god, the way they look, all desperate for you. One hotel room. Two obsessive, subby fans aggressively turned on. One night they’ll never forget… and never fully recover from. Just like you...

Pretty boy. (upcoming) virgin!softboy!heeseung x first love reader The where Heeseung’s still the awkward boy who once whispered he loved you — just with broader shoulders, softer eyes, and a quiet ache to be enough for you. He’ll do anything to earn your heart, if you’ll just let him try.

POWER PLAY. sub!boss Jake x Co-worker!dom reader The one where Jake is the picture-perfect boss — everything you claim to hate, but can’t bring yourself to touch. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like you're divine. Or maybe it’s the way he drops to his knees, begging for your slap like he’s been dreaming of it forever. Part.2

HUNTED. virgin!stepbro!Jake x afab perv!reader You didn’t just get a new family — you got Jake. Your wide-eyed, too-sweet stepbrother, always watching like he’s starving. Painfully innocent. And maybe it’s time you gave him something to dream about. he’ll make the perfect little revenge.

CHAINED. stepbro!sunghoon x dancer reader The one where your stepbro new Sunghoon becomes obsessed after the night you cried for him. Now, he won’t let you breathe without him — not until your trembling feet find only safety on his stage. You were born to be a ballerina. He was made to break you beautifully. PART.2

DIGITAL PLAY. OnlineStranger!SunghoonxVirgin!reader You weren’t supposed to match with him. Now it’s 2 a.m., and the cold-eyed stranger is in your phone, in your head, and under your skin—asking questions that make your thighs press together and promising things that should make you block him. You don’t. This isn’t flirting. It’s foreplay with no safe word.

FAMILIAR. (upcoming) old!vampire sunghoon x new!vampire reader The one where Sunghoon finds you : a hungry newborn vampire, still tasting the sting of Heeseung’s bite, and takes you for himself. He tears you from Heeseung’s grasp with a promise: that if you're going to crave blood, you’ll crave his.

SPECIAL FAN SERVICE ! fan!Heeseung x Camgirl!Reader x fan!Jay The one where you’re popular camgirl. You drop a conquest : a private challenge to see who deserves one night alone with you. Hee and Jay ? They apply. Together! And god, the way they look, all desperate for you. One hotel room. Two obsessive, subby fans aggressively turned on. One night they’ll never forget… and never fully recover from. Just like you...

Coming soon....

#LASSIIE-STEPBRO-AU #LASSIIE-SUB-ENHA #LASSIIE-VAMPIRE-AU #LASSIIE-HORROR-SHOW

[sweethoons]

when did you get hot? - nishimura riki.

★ pairing : 西村 力 x popular!y/n . wc : 15.7k

⋮ 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.

[lassiie]

CHAINED PART.2 - CHAEBOL!STEPBRO SUNGHOON

He hated you before he met you — ballerina, pawn, problem. But then you danced, and now he can’t stop watching. You weren’t supposed to want him either — cold, cruel, untouchable. Now it’s glances, games, and dangerously thin lines. This isn’t love. It’s obsession with better lighting. The last representation starts now.

CONTENT ↠ nsfw! mdni!, fluff, slise of life typa plot, smut (toward the end), a drop of angst , Possessive!Sunghoon, Toxic relationship redemption arc, "You’re mine" trope, first love, sexual tension, Jealousy (hoon), Slow Burn, p in v, Rough sex, Marking/Bruising, choking, public acts, MC Begging, Breeding kink so much it's getting out of hand🖤

WORDCOUNT ↠ 10k (not proof sadly... Gotta give some jobs out of here lol + All my apologies if it gets mixed up somehow... It's like a mix of a hundred versions. Let me know if something is weird.)

(Now playing : feeling Execeptional - Kris Bowers)

First position.

Chin high, back iron-straight. You look like the perfect ballerina, the picture of poise, but inside you’re shaking. The spotlight burns down, but it doesn’t sear half as much as the phantom still coiled in your bones.

Everyone thinks you’re dancing Carmen. They clap, they gasp, they see red lace and fire in your eyes. If only they knew. You’re not dancing Carmen with your partner. You’re dancing with him. Sunghoon.

Always a bit of him.

Your arms slice overhead. Your leg kicks into arabesque. His hand—God, you swear you still feel it ghosting your hip. Five years as passed, and he’s still touching you from thousands of miles away.

And don’t lie. You’d let him.

Pirouette. Faster, faster, until the world blurs. Dizzy. Mad. Just like when he’d spined you around in some dark hallway, eyes locked on you, smirk carved like sin across his mouth. He never touched you sweet. Why would you want sweet when cruel burned so much better? He was the knife. You were the idiot begging him to press harder.

Grand jeté. You fly, for a second and you’re nothing but air. It’s the same weightless madness you felt when his arms caught you, when you believed—stupidly—that you were safe with him. Then your feet hit the floor and the truth cracks through your bones : safety was never his gift. He ruined you, broke you, left you bleeding, and you still craved the taste of it.

Every twist of your hips, every whip of your skirt, the audience thinks it’s Carmen’s arrogance. It isn’t. It’s your confession. Your hunger. Your insanity bleeding through each sharp snap of your body like a therapy. Every line you carve into the stage is his name.

Sunghoon. Sunghoon. Sunghoon.

You should have forgotten him by now. You should have scrubbed him out. But you can’t. His mouth is still pressed to your throat, his teeth still in your skin, his voice still the one whispering filth in your ear when you close your eyes at night. He ruined you for anything, anyone, and you begged him to. You loved it. Every bite. Every bruise. Every time he forced you to admit that no one else could touch you the way he did.

The spell cracks open when the lights flare hot, when applause detonates like fireworks, when roses scatter at your feet. You bow. You smile. You play the perfect prima donna.

But you know the truth. You’re not bowing as Carmen. You’re bowing to a ghost. His ghost.

He’s still winning.

Sunghoon?

Your gaze snags on a silhouette across the crowd. Broad shoulders, dark suit, head tilted just so. For half a heartbeat, your lungs seize—him. It’s him.

But no. Of course not. Just some stranger molded in the same outline, a cruel trick of light and distance. Still, your pulse spikes, your chest caves in like memory itself has teeth.

You hate how easy it is to hallucinate him. How your body reacts before your mind can catch up.

You blink too hard, laugh too soft, sip champagne like it can wash him out of your throat. But the truth curls tight in your chest: you’ll keep mistaking strangers for him until the day you actually see him again.

And when you do? You’ll wish it had stayed a silhouette.

Does he ever miss you? Or did he fold you up like an old shirt : tossed into the back of a drawer, out of sight, out of mind?

Maybe he’s furious—he should be, after the way you slipped out without so much as a kiss goodbye. Maybe he’s married now, some woman tucked into his arms where you used to fit, a ring glinting on his finger like proof you were only ever a phase.

Those thoughts, those rot, were the ones you swore you wouldn’t touch. So you shoved them down, drowned them under endless rehearsals, new home, new love. But they leaked through anyway. Late at night, when your pulse slowed and your guard cracked, the questions slithered back: What if you called? What if you booked the flight? What if you typed his name into a search bar and tore yourself open on what you found?

And every time, you didn’t. You called it restraint. Discipline. But the truth? It was cowardice dressed up as virtue. You stacked excuses like bricks, bricked yourself into distractions until the ache dulled into something survivable. You never called it what it was. You just pretended you weren’t already haunted.

Still—you lived. Fully, maybe even beautifully.

You let yourself love someone without condition, cherish it's existance, and let others people love you the way you never quite could return.

You clawed out a career that was yours alone now: dancer, model, even a book with your words stamped under a stranger’s name. You bought your own property, not your family’s. Not Sunghoon’s. You cut your mother out too, let her silence rot against yours until independence calcified in your bones.

It worked. Most days, it worked. But the truth? He never left. Not really.

🕰️

Outside, snow drifts lazy through the streetlights, soft as ash. The city’s dressed with red ribbons, glass ornaments, every window glowing gold and argent, against the bite of cold air. You slide into the waiting car to find a bouquet offered by your lover. But you’re more interested in the smear of lights on wet glass, the hush of snow swallowing the streets.

Then your reflection catches you and you remember. Jihoon... You promised him...

You lift your phone, angle it just to catch the Christmas city dripping in tinsel and frost. Send. And almost instantly: buzz, buzz, buzz.

A cascade of messages stacks up, pulling your mouth into a smile you don’t bother hiding. You type a couple replies, let the warmth bloom in your chest, then bury the phone back in your clutch like it’s a secret you don’t feel like sharing.

The final play's party hits you with applause the moment you arrive. Chandeliers spitting gold across mirrored floors. Men slick in black tailoring. Women poured into gowns and fine jewlery. The air is a cocktail of champagne, roses, leather gloves thawing by the door. Low music hums under the chatter, a heartbeat beneath the glitter.

“Finally!”

Your friend materializes, dripping velvet and diamonds, a drink already in her hand like she’s been waiting her whole life to hand it to you. She thrusts it at you with a look.

“Honestly, I thought you’d ghost us... Run to Jihoon, another migraine, or stage some tragic artistic crisis. You're always such a mystery.” Her eyes glitter like she knows too much and don't want to out voice the real reason you never come to party anymore. Your real secret.

You laugh, sip. The champagne is sharp, citrus biting through something decadently expensive. “Don’t exaggerate. I only came because you begged like it was life or death.”

She groans, dramatic. “God, you are insufferable. Do you know the privileges you swim in?” She locks her arm through yours like she owns you.

She shake her head, “Ok, come. Half the room wants to meet you, and the other half just wants to breathe your air. And I promised to keep you busy until midnight.”

You fake-plead, dragging your voice. “Pleeeease. Can’t we just hide in a corner? Go home early?”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p.’ “You’re mine tonight. And you’re going to smile while I parade you around, until Jihoon call you home, deal?”

She points across the room, and you know she won’t let you slink out of this one.

Your friend drags you deeper into the glittering maze, heels clicking a sharp rhythm across the marble. Couples swirl in the center of the room, gowns flashing, laughter spinning with the violins. Faces blur—some familiar, some half-forgotten. The eyes on you don’t scare you anymore. They feed you.

Introductions blur. Smiles with teeth too white. Compliments rehearsed down to the last syllable. Designers, investors, models. You smile, nod, play the part. Even the sight of old friends and estranged relatives doesn’t throw you. Not tonight.

Only your phone, buzzing in your clutch, threatens to crack the mask. You glance, you ache to answer, but you don’t. Not yet.

“Last one,” your friend whispers, tugging your arm mid-nod to a relative you don’t want to claim.

“You said that four people ago...” you murmur back, brows lifting.

“This time I mean it,” she insists, smugness dripping like perfume. “My husband asked me to present you both.. Apparently, a very interesting fan.”

You’re pulled toward a circle near the center of the ballroom.

The conversation swirls in laughter and murmurs around has you shortcut by dancing people, being more sorry than your friend. Glasses clinks when you're welcomed by your friend’s husband and your lover's clan of investors and friends. You offer another smile, handshakes, polite nods.

Then—

“Ah, he’s back. Let me introduce you to our new friend. Mister Park Sunghoon.”

What…?

It doesn’t just register. It detonates. Your head snaps toward the him, and for a breath, the room vanishes in just silence, your heartbeat clawing at your throat and the sound of his footsteps.

Sunghoon.

Here.

Five years, and the sight of him cleaves you in two. Older now. Sharper. His black suit cut with surgical precision, his mouth set, his hair darker, his presence a gravity that makes the whole circle bend around him. He moves past your friend, past her husband, and it’s slow motion until he stops—directly before you.

Your pulse spikes when he reaches your hand. You know it too well, this touch. The ruin stitched into its memory sears back instantly.

And him? Does he see the tremor under your skin?

He does. He always did.

Still—you don’t falter. You’ve trained yourself to armor every fault line in silk. Your lips curve, polite, elegant, betraying nothing but control. “Sunghoon.” His name tastes too intimate, but you let it slip as if it means nothing. As if it isn’t the ghost you’ve been dancing with for half a decade.

Something flickers at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile. A recognition. His hand encloses yours—respectable, firm, warm. A greeting. And also a reminder: I remember every inch of you.

“It’s been a while,” he says just for you hear, smooth, charming enough for the crowd. Only you hear the knife in it. The five winters, one dawn, no goodbye.

“Yeah...” you return, dazed. No one in the crownd hears the confession you bury in those this exchange.

He doesn’t release you. His gaze pins you steady, his thumb brushing once across your knuckles—polite accident to them, deliberate sin to you.

“You dance beautifully,” he says, still holding on, half smilling, his tone honeyed for the audience. But his eyes betray the undertow: I watched you. I remember your skin. You never left me.

Your friend lights up, oblivious, practically vibrating with pride. “Breathtaking, isn’t she? She makes the stage look like home.”

Sunghoon’s smile twists, dangerous and elegant all at once. “I agree,” he says, voice dropping a note, too subtle for the others but slicing straight through you. “Though I imagine she’s even more dangerous off-stage. You'd allow me one dance?”

Laughter ripples around you, harmless to them. To you, it’s a lit match dropped on old gasoline.

Your lips part, ready to refuse, but your friend shoves at your back, grinning. “Oh, don’t you dare say no. He asked so nicely. Just one dance.” She winks.

One dance.... Right. Just one more sin to add to the tally.

Sunghoon doesn’t even extend his hand—you never pulled yours away. His gaze sharpens, and the corner of his mouth finally tips, insolent, like he knows exactly how easy you still are.

“Indulge me,” he murmurs, pitched for your ears alone. “One song. I promise not to step on you.”

The air leaves your lungs sharp when Sunghoon bend on your ear "I still remember what you teached me".

You're annoyed. Unwilling. But refusing here would be louder than accepting, and he knows it.

(Now playing : Romantic - Wens)

So you let him lead. His palm closes around yours, burning, familiar. The crowd sees elegance. You feel the trap slam shut.

The music swell, chandeliers raining gold, and Sunghoon’s hand slides to your waist. Proper. Respectable even. Except for the heat seeping straight through silk, creeping under your ribs, blooming against your skin like fire.

His grip on your other hand is technically textbook, but the slow strokes of his thumb inside your palm is not. To anyone else, in the ballroom it's an elegent valse. To you, deliberate cruelty. A reminder of how little it ever took to unmake you.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. The way his eyes pin you is enough—a whole confession laid bare without a sound. You see it: the cruel itch to ruin you right here, right now, to tear you down and worship you in the same breath. Hatred and hunger twisted into one. His favorite brand of romance.

Your throat tightens. “What are you doing here, Sunghoon?”

His eyes flicker—steady, unreadable, but sharpened with something old. “Funny. I got your invitation. Didn’t think i'd actually show up?”

What?

"I-I've never..."

He twirls you before you end your sentence, pulling you back hard into the circle of his arms. Like he’s been waiting five years just to reel you in again. His voice cuts low, sharp against your ear. “How could you cut ties with me? With us? Did you ever even bother to ask how your mom was? Or me?”

Your step falters, heel catching for a fraction of a beat. “What do you mean?”

He leans in, his mouth brushing your cheek as he whispers, cruel in its intimacy. “Our parents separated... Years ago.”

The breath knocks from your chest. Your lips part, but words refuse to form, leaving only silence and the sting of his accusation. Finally, too late, you force out: “When?”

His laugh is low, humorless. Bitter. “When? That’s what you care about?” His hand presses into the small of your back, turning you. His chest meets your spine, his breath hot against your ear, make your head dizzy. “Long enough for me to sit there like an idiot, waiting. Wondering how you could vanish without looking back.”

Your jaw locks tight. You stare anywhere but at the circle of fascinated faces watching you both.

“You had a fiancée,” you hiss, low, sharp enough to cut.

“And I had you. And you had me. So what?” he fires back instantly, his voice molten, wrapping around you like smoke. He turns you to face him again, eyes locked, mouth dangerously close, as you both get lost in the crownd of people dancing around you. “Do you have any idea what it was like? Until tonight, waiting for you to come to me, when all I wanted was to drag you into some corner and—” His lips hover at your ear, your skin prickling, hotter. “—ruin you the way you begged me to. Punish you for leaving me...”

Heat slams up your spine. You tilt, breath hitching, shameless in spite of yourself. Still, your smile stays iron-clad as you bite out the words through your teeth. “You haven’t changed... You'd still rather play games...”

He only laughs, low and poisonous, the sound wrapping around you like honey edged in steel. He guides you through another effortless spin, his hand sweeping your waist with the kind of possession that makes the dance feel stolen.

Sunghoon doesn’t let you go. He moves you not with you, orbiting until there’s no escape left. And when your eyes finally crash into his, it’s over. You can’t tear away. The music swells, your breath tangles with his, every step a trap, every brush of his fingers a memory sharpened into a blade. The space between you dissolves, unbearable.

And then—

Your friend’s voice slices through the tension. She waves from across the room, pointing at your clutch. “Your phone”

The spell shatters.

You rip yourself out of his hold, pulse wild, dress flaring as you flee the circle, almost colliding with couples dancing. You don’t dare look back—though you can feel him watching, burning through every step.

But as you near the edge of the room, you risk it—just once.

And you almost catch him with an expression you’ve never seen before. Not rage, not arrogance. Something deeper. Something that looks too much like disbelief, maybe even hurt.

His hand lifts, reaching for you, fingers twitching, then, curling into a fist, stopping himself just short of the one move neither of you could take back.

The gala hum lingers behind you—muffled voices colliding, crystal laughter clinking, the orchestra dragging its bows over something sugar-sweet and nauseating. You press your back to the wall, the cool plaster grounding you as your thumb swipes across the screen.

“Hey,” you murmur, softer than you’ve spoken in years, your voice stripped of its razor edges. And then—God help you—your smile blooms, wide and unguarded, a smile no audience has ever wrung out of you, no friend has ever earned. “Mm, I know. I didn’t forget. I’ll be home soon, love.”

You tilt the phone, childish, as if the person on the other side could hear the music bleeding faintly through the door, the laughter like champagne bubbles still clinging to the air. “It’s beautiful here, but…” You exhale, the sound almost giddy, too intimate. “I kind of want to go back home to you already...”

You laugh, small, private, the kind of sound that peels the armor off your shoulders, softens you into someone Sunghoon wouldn’t recognize if he tried. The words are nothing grand—small promises, silly answers, a whispered reminder and repeat that yes, you’ll be back soon—but they undo you all the same.

But when you turn—

He’s there. Sunghoon.

Your breath stutters, and your smile dies before you can bury it. Since when? How much did he hear? He leans in the half-shadow like it was built for him, immaculate suit, sharp gaze locked on you with that stillness you know too well. Stillness like a blade hovering at your throat.

He saw you. Worse—he saw you smiling like that.

Your voice falters on the line. “Mm… okay, yeah. I’ll do that, love…” But you’re not listening anymore, not to the warmth in your ear, not to the comfort spilling through the speaker. You’re too busy watching him step closer, closer, every movement quiet, deliberate, inevitable.

“Yeah… l-love you too,” you whisper, and it feels like a betrayal even as the words slip free. “Good night, baby.”

The phone slides of your ear just as his shadow eclipses you. One inch left, no more. His breath touches your cheek.

“You’ve got someone...” Not a question. A verdict. His voice is low, steady, but sharp beneath the calm, like glass waiting to slice.

Your chin tilts up defiant, even as your pulse drums wild against your skin. “I’d be lying if I said no. It’s been five years, Sunghoon. Did you really expect me to sit untouched, waiting while you—” You choke the sentence back, bite the words while you married someone else, until your tongue bleeds with the restraint.

His mouth curves, not quite a smile. Cruel, amused? devastated?

“Right. You told me to move on. Why wouldn’t you?” The air buzzes with the accusation, heavy with the comparison neither of you voice.

(Now playing : Cross your mind - Sabrina Claudio)

He reaches, fingertips ghosting for a strand of your hair, and you catch his wrist before he can tuck it back. “Stop, Hoon.”

But he doesn’t stop—he never does. Instead, he studies the hand holding him off, then smiles, sad and vicious, brushing his thumb over your knuckles like a benediction. “Is he that good,” he murmurs, “that you don’t need my touch anymore?”

Your throat tightens. You want to lie, to burn him with denial, but the weight of his stare pins you. So you meet his gaze, weak and raw, and nod twice.

He leans in, whisper sharp as a knife: “Tell me… do I ever cross your mind?” His hand slides higher, cupping your cheek, thumb tracing the line of your lips like a secret map. “Because you cross mine. Every fucking time.”

Your body betrays you, swaying toward him, your voice breaking on his name. “S-Sunghoon… please…”

He laughs quietly, bitter, wrecked. “Did you once felt like an hypocrite?” His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “Letting other hands touch you, just to pretend it was me? Cause, I did. Every girl, every kiss, every blurred face—it was still you. Only you. Even when I started to forget the edges of your face, even when your voice became memory, it was still you.”

Your back hits the cold wall before you realize he’s driven you there, lips grazing yours, eyes glazed with madness.

“Did jealousy keep you up at night?” he breathes you in. “Because it gave me insomnia... The thought of you forgetting me. Replacing me. Smiling for someone else.” His hand tilts your chin higher, and he drinks in the tears trembling at your lashes like they’re proof of his victory.

Your voice shatters. “W-what about your marriage?”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then his other hand shifts, heavy on your hip. Your eyes drop—no ring. His gaze never leaves yours. “No.” Just that. One word.

It slams into you, rippling out like an earthquake, and you know he sees it written all over your face. He sees the crack, the opening, the way you crumble without meaning to.

He slides down, fingers wrapping the fragile line of your throat. Not tight, not yet. Just enough to make you tremble. Just enough to remind you who he’s always been—the one you ran from, the one you can’t escape.

(Now playing : Messy - Rosé)

If only you could see yourself… The way your eyes cling to him like you’re starving now, the way your body betrays the mask you’re so desperate to hold. You pretend to be untouched, unmoved, but he reads the truth in every flicker, every tremor, and it feeds him. You look like you’re begging—for anything, for everything, for the ruin only he can give you. Five years’ worth of hunger written across your skin, five years of sleepless nights, filthy dreams, and thoughts you swore you’d buried.

So he does.

He kisses you like he’s been starving for five years, and you’re the only thing left on earth. It’s not gentle, not sweet. No. It’s vicious and messy, tongues clashing, teeth biting on lips, your back slamming harder into the wall with every pull of his hands. His fingers grip your waist like he owns you, like he’s reclaiming you, dragging out sounds you swore you’d never let him hear again.

You moan into his mouth when grabs your thigh in a bruising hold, desperate, furious, needy. You claw at his shoulders, his jaw, his hair, like if you could just tear at him hard enough, you’d stop shaking. He growls into your lips, swallowing the sound, devouring you whole. Every movement says mine, mine, mine. And every tremor of your body answers yes, yes, yes!

His breath is ragged when he tears away only to whisper against your skin, lips brushing your jaw, your throat, your ear:

“Tell me how fucking miserable you’ve been without me." He kiss you. "Tell me you’re dying inside. Tell me no one—no one has ever touched you the way I do.”

You’re gasping, dizzy, trapped between the wall and his chest, and every nerve screams to let go, to let him consume you. His words sink like poison and nectar all at once, and you almost break. Almost.

But you shove at him, trembling, desperate, shaking your head. “Stop—Sunghoon, stop. I need you to listen.”

He doesn’t. His mouth crashes against yours again, greedy, punishing, desperate. He won’t stop until you make him. So you wrench yourself back, breathless, eyes blazing.

“It’s important!”

He freezes. His chest heaves, and his jaw clenches. His eyes are wild, glassy with hunger, but beneath it—a flicker of something raw. He swallows hard, voice low, rough.

“As important as us?”

His voice drips with sweet venom, but his eyes are desperate, burning in a way that makes your lungs ache. He leans closer, so close you can taste the bitterness of his words, so close you can feel his heartbeat like a war drum. And for a split second you almost believe he means it. Us, like it’s still alive, like it isn’t already ashes.

Because after fleeing, pretending you were the stronger one, pretending it was better that way, that you were sparing both of you, the truth hits—you were the coward one a the end.

Too afraid to reach for him, too afraid to hunt down the scraps of news carrying his name, his family’s name. You were the one who let it die, too terrified to face him, too terrified to face the reckless, destructive version of yourself you once were.

A breathless laugh escapes, jagged and sharp, your back pressed to the cold wall as if it could hold you together. “Us, huh? There’s a us, Hoon?" Your voice cracks, lips trembling, but the fierce edge of egoism keeps you upright.

No, not since I walked away because you couldn’t or wouldn’t fight your world for me.

You’re rearranging yourself, tugging your dress into place hiding your wetness, smoothing your hair with shaky fingers, trying to reclaim the composure he’s already stripped from you. 

You push past him, but he shadows you, his presence curling around you like smoke, refusing to let you breathe, brushing your wrist until his long fingers catch you. He’s about to talk when you cut him off.

“Don’t—don’t do that…” Your protest trembles, weak, collapsing under the heat of his mouth. His lips graze your wrist like a promise, like a threat, and you hate how your pulse betrays you against his tongue.

“Let’s… let’s see each other in the daytime,” you force out, breath breaking, words caught between a moan and surrender. “Sunghoon, it’s—” your throat closes pleading “It’s something important.”

“Hm?” He hums, kissing and grazing your inner wrist, eyes devouring. “Tell me what’s so important?” His thumb presses into your pulse point, and the tremor in your veins betrays you.

"Not now..." His gaze slices into you as he starts tracing his way with his tongue on your arm. You can’t say it. You can’t tell him right now. You can’t form the words, because he won’t let you.

(Now listening : Nothing's gonna hurt you - cigarettes after sex)

“I’m… so sorry, Hoon.” The words fall broken, barely shaped, but when his eyes catch yours, you see it—the weight hitting him square in the chest, something sharp and heavy splintering behind his gaze.

And you cry. God, fuck—you cry. Ugly, unplanned, wrecked. He got carried away, and so did you, and it’s too late to rewind. Too late to pretend the years, the distance, the silence never mattered.

It’s too much. So overwhelming, so uninvited. You’d scripted this moment a thousand times—imagined his face, rehearsed your lines, practiced how you’d stand tall, untouchable. But this? Nothing about this is ready. Nothing is neat or rehearsed.

You want to kiss him until your lips bruise. You want to throw your arms around him, bury yourself in the warmth you swore you didn’t need. You want him to yell, to shake you, to shatter the careful life you built without him. You want it all—his chaos, his rage, his ruin.

But most of all—you want to tell him.

Tell him about Jihoon.

About the one who holds the deepest part of you now. The only reason you’ve managed to breathe without drowning, the only anchor strong enough to keep you from orbiting Sunghoon until you collapse. The reason you might actually let go of this love that still owns every corner of you, this love you never wanted to survive but did.

For Jihoon.

“Hey…” Sunghoon breathes, his voice ragged around the edges. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I got carried away. Shhh…”

His arms close around you before you can resist, before you even think to resist, and you let him. Let him fold you in, let his warmth cage you, let his hand stroke your hair the way he used to when you broke down in his chest years ago. He whispers sorry, sorry, sorry against your temple like he’s the one unraveling, not you. And somehow, it calms you. Enough that the sobs ease into shivers, enough that you can breathe again without choking on your own heart.

“We… we need to talk,” you murmur, your voice muffled against him. “Properly. Not here. Not like this.”

His hold tightens. “When?” His tone is frantic, desperate under the surface, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers the second he lets go.

“Tomorrow,” you whisper. “Yes. Tomorrow.”

That word is the only thing that pries him loose. He nods, stiff, like a man bracing for withdrawal. But when you try to step back, he doesn’t let you—not fully. His lips graze your cheek first, hesitant, almost boyish. Then the corner of your mouth, where his breath trembles as if he’s begging. Then your lips themselves—barely, just a whisper of tenderness, nothing more, but it steals the air from your lungs. His forehead presses to yours, eyes shut, his breath uneven.

You can feel it—the way he clings like you’re his only oxygen, like he’s already been starving for too long. He’s dependent on you, always has been, and letting go feels like tearing himself open.

But he does. Slowly. Reluctantly. His fingers linger on your wrist until there’s no excuse left, no reason to stall.

You walk away first, because you have to. His eyes burn into your back, his body still leaning forward like he might lunge, like he might drag you into him and never let you leave again. But he doesn’t. He stays. And it hurts.

The promise of tomorrow hangs between you like a thread—thin, fragile, the only thing stopping both of you from falling apart right there.

(Playing all to well - Taylor Swift)

Sunghoon is already there when the bell chimes above the café door, though you’re not. Not yet. He’s been there for forty minutes, long enough for the ice in his americano to melt, long enough to drag his finger around the rim of the glass until the condensation dampened his sleeve. He sways what’s left of the drink absently, watching the coffee swirl, thick and dark like the thoughts chewing through his skull.

He expects everything. Anything. You sitting down with fire in your eyes, telling him you’ve moved on, that you’re happy, that he should let go. Or maybe softer—you crying again, whispering apologies, begging for a truce you both know you’ll break. He doesn’t know which version of you will walk through the door, so he braces for all of them. His chest is tight, his teeth on edge, his knee bouncing until it rattles the table.

You have someone now. He saw it with his own eyes—the phone, the smile he wasn’t supposed to see. It gnaws at him, claws at him. He imagines you laughing like that in someone else’s arms, your head tucked against another chest, whispering secrets that used to be only his. Rage simmers low, steady, but beneath it, something more dangerous brews: a plan. He’ll make it break. He’ll make it. That man won’t last. Not when Sunghoon still exists. Not when he still knows your skin, your breath, your tears.

And yet—last night unsettled him. The way you cried. Not the delicious breaking he used to adore, not the surrender he could always coax from you, but something raw and jagged, something that scraped his insides in a way he hated. For the second time in his life, he hadn’t liked it. It made him feel… wrong. Weak. And it eats him alive, because Sunghoon isn’t supposed to care like that. Not him.

It’s rich, really. Laughable, if he had the air to laugh. After all, the moment that invitation hit his hands, he’d spiraled. Fantasies unspooled at once—walking into that ballroom with someone stunning draped over his arm, watching your smile falter; dragging you into the spotlight, claiming you in front of everyone the way you always used to tease he should; or the darker daydreams, the ones where he stole you away entirely, locked the world out until you remembered exactly who you belonged to. He could see it so clearly—your wrists in his hands, your body under him, the days stretching until you broke back into the girl who used to beg for him.

But then you entered. Just walked in, and all of it collapsed. He stopped hurting, stopped raging, stopped plotting. For a moment, there was nothing but you. You, in that dress, carrying yourself like a woman who finally owned her fire. Older, sharper, luminous in a way he couldn’t touch. And he felt it in his chest, something awful and tender at once—like this was where he belonged, watching you burn bright, watching you become who you were always meant to be.

The longing didn’t vanish, though. It surged. The urge to touch your skin, to confirm you were real, to drag you back into the orbit where he could keep you—it was unbearable. He smirked then, at himself, at the ridiculousness of it all. Because for all the twisted ways he’d planned to reclaim you, in the end, all it took was one look. One look, and he was ruined all over again.

And now he waits. The door bell will chime, and you’ll walk in, and he doesn’t know if he’ll shatter or smile.

“Are you really ignoring me already?”

His head jerks up, and there you are. Not a fantasy. Not a ghost. You—hair brushed loose, a coat pulled tight against the cold, a big bag slung over your shoulder you don’t mention. His throat closes for a second, because this time, there’s no stage lights, no chandeliers, no crowd. Just you. And it’s worse. Better. Too much.

You slip into the seat across from him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The small talk is awkward at first—weather, coffee, the way the city feels smaller than it should after all these years. Then you drop it, sudden, unblinking:

“I missed you.”

It knocks the air out of him. He almost doesn’t trust his ears, but you keep going, words spilling before he can even move his tongue.

“I wanted our reunion to feel… special. But, Sunghoon—it wasn’t me. The invitation. That was her.” You don’t need to say the name. He knows. The friend from last night, velvet and diamonds, eyes sharp as razors. “I did my own digging after. And I guess… she wanted this for us.”

He opens his mouth, but you steamroll before he can speak.

“I’m happy now. Truly. And still… I was a coward. I should’ve found the courage to face you sooner. To say goodbye properly, at least. I’m sorry, Hoon. I should have come back before. I just… couldn’t.”

For once, Sunghoon doesn’t snap back. He listens. Really listens. To every syllable, every tremor in your voice. His chest aches, but he forces himself to take a deep breath before answering.

“I should’ve fought.” His words land heavy between you. “Back then. I was old enough, but I was afraid. Afraid of what loving you meant, afraid of losing control, afraid of losing you. So I let it go. I let you go. That was my mistake.” He exhales hard, almost like he’s confessing. “But now? Now it’s different. And… I don’t know. I hope… maybe we could try again.”

You don’t answer right away. Your gaze drifts, pounding through invisible questions. He sees it—the storm behind your eyes—and his anxiety kicks. His hand shoots across the table, gripping yours before you can retreat.

You smile at him. Small, pained, but real. And for a second, he almost believes.

Then you shift. “I have someplace I need to be,” you say gently. “Will you come with me?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

The walk is strangely light, almost playful. You trade stories like the last five years were just pages waiting to be flipped. He tells you about the gigs, the empty nights, the successes that tasted flat without someone to share them with. You tell him about the names you’ve worn, the homes you’ve built, the failures you swallowed and the triumphs that were yours alone. There’s laughter—real, surprised—and moments where silence falls but doesn’t choke. Nostalgia curls between you both, sweet and bitter.

The place you stop at isn’t glamorous at all. Balloons taped to the door, paper crowns visible through the glass. A birthday. Inside, your friend greets you with a hug, side-eyes Sunghoon, and then turns to scold a child tugging at her skirt. You drop your gift onto the pile and let yourself breathe.

Sunghoon, though—he startles you. He crouches down, a kid clambers into his arms, and suddenly he’s not the sharp-edged man you remember. He’s laughing. A real laugh. One that strips years from his face, softens him into something unguarded. It breaks you in a new way.

Your friend slides close, low voice in your ear. “Did you tell him?”

“Not yet.”

Her brows knit. “You should. Secrets bite harder the longer you keep them.”

“I know,” you whisper. And you do agree. Watching him like this, open, pure, you know your heart can’t hold it much longer.

When you rejoin him, you do something impulsive.

You slip your hand into his, lean your weight lightly against him, like it was ritual, almost domestic. His surprise is almost comical to you. eyes widening, breath stuttering, but then he softens, the corners of his mouth curving. You both smile, quietly, at each other, like the shyest couple ever. Then you let yourselves be pulled into the chaos of balloons and frosting and shrieking kids, playing like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

By the time the candles burn low, he’s tugging at your sleeve with that mischievous spark. “Dinner. With me.”

You arch a brow. “After you ate half the tiramisu?”

He grins, guilty and unrepentant, licking a smear of cream from his thumb. The way he pulls faces in the kitchen earns a laugh from you so sharp it almost hurts. For a fleeting moment, it’s easy. Normal.

When the crowd thins, he takes your hand again, thumb brushing your knuckles, voice quieter now. “This time, I’ll do it right. The way I couldn’t before.”

You tilt your head. “And what do you think I even want?”

He smirks. “Tell me.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Simple dating, I guess.”

“Really? A date, huh?” His smirk deepens, dangerous and boyish all at once.

You smile, already regretting it. “…Yes?”

“Then let’s go.”

“What?”

But he’s already tugging you out the door.

The mall. A dress. His ridiculous commentary while you try them on. Then his turn : dragging you into a store, switching jackets, arguing with himself in the mirror until you’re both doubled over laughing.

Next thing you know, it’s his hotel's restaurent lights, clinking glasses, the night spreading wide around you. His hand fidgets against yours, yours against his, both pretending you’re not clinging.

And for the first time in years, you let yourself think: Maybe. Yes.

On rooftop it's quiet, wind brushing your hair, city lights scattered below like broken glass. You both laugh softly at the coincidence—how the very first time you really saw each other was on a rooftop too, years ago, reckless and breathless, as if the world existed only for the two of you. The memory lingers between you, sweet and sharp.

You take a shaky breath. It’s now or never.

“Sunghoon…” Your voice cracks, and he stills instantly, eyes searching.

You don’t speak right away. Instead, you pull your phone from your bag, swipe, and then turn the screen to him. A picture. A boy. Small, smiling, eyes too bright. His cheeks a little too familiar.

His world stops.

“This is… Jihoon,” you whisper, the name breaking on your lips. “He’s… my son. Our son.”

He blinks, choked, silent. His lips part, but no sound comes, until finally it slips out—shattered, breathless:

“You… you had my child?” He swallows, hard, voice trembling. “I… I have… a son?”

You’re already crying. You nod, tears streaming. “I didn’t know what to do, Hoon. I—at first, I thought about not having him. I thought I wasn’t strong enough. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And when I finally held him… God, I wanted you to know. So many times, I picked up the phone, even called through my friend’s line, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t say it. I was too scared.”

He stares at you like the world has shifted beneath him. Then his face crumples. “You had my baby…” His laugh comes out wet, broken, a smile bleeding through tears. “You really did?”

You nod again, sobbing. And then he’s everywhere—kissing your cheeks, your hair, your temples, your trembling hands. Over and over, as if trying to convince himself it’s real.

“You really did.” He says it again, almost like a prayer. His arms close around you, tight, unshakable, as if he’ll never let go again.

The two of you sink down on a bench. And the rest of the night is Sunghoon's voice—question after question, greedy, hungry for every detail about Jihoon.

He smiles through his tears when you tell him the name again. Like he hate himself for hate that name back at the party. Just like he hate you before knowing you back in the days.

“Jihoon. It has a bit of my name.” He loves it, rolls it around his tongue like it’s holy. "Ji-hoon. Jihoon. Ji... Hoon."

That's my son's name..."

You tell him how you actually named him after him, how Jihoon followed his dad career, how Jihoon already loves skating too, how sometimes he tilts his head or furrows his brow exactly like daddy Sunghoon.

Sunghoon laughs, wiping his cheeks, only for more tears to fall. Even when he smiles, even when he jokes, there’s always that quiet crying beneath it.

You place your hand on his cheek. “I'm sorry..." And he shake it off with his hand on your. "You know Hoon... This... Doesn’t mean I want you to put a ring on my finger... This... Jihoon, he has nothing to do with our relationship. What I mean is... I hope for a day I can introduce you properly to him. Because he’s already your biggest fan,” You smile, "But it doesn't mean that we'll be a thing because of it, I won't force it, Hoon."

He presses his forehead to yours, whispering, “I already can’t wait for that day…”

(now playing : HeartLess - Madison Beer X Fetish - selena gomez )

His hand never leaves yours for the rest of the night. And when you finally step into the elevator together, his grip only tightens. It’s desperate. It’s ugly. Like he’s terrified you’ll slip through his fingers if he lets go for even a second.

He presses up against your back the moment the doors slide shut. You almost jolt from his breathing, clutching air like you can find balance there. His chest is heat and hard muscle glued to your spine.

His hand snakes up, collecting your hair in one fist to move it back just enough to bare your throat. He doesn’t even kiss first. He grazes your temple with his lips. A dry kiss, teasing. Then your jaw. Then the little hollow between your shoulder and neck. Each one makes your knees weaker. Until he hisses with a bite.

"H-hoon..."

“I missed you.” His voice is a low rasp against your skin. “I missed you.” Again. Rougher. “You made me fucking wait... Five fucking years... Do you know what I thought all this time?” His teeth nip at your pulse. “Dragging you somewhere dark; pinning you to a wall; fucking you until you couldn’t walk away... until you wouldn’t dare.”

Your breath hitches. “R-really—Wait we're still—” It comes out broken. A squeak of a warning.

He laughs, meanly. “You’re still so easy. I feel you trembling already. You love it, huh? The idea of me doing you like that.”

His hand skates down your side, catching on your waist before gripping hard. The cold elevator wall kisses your back when he shoves you flush against it.

“And then I see you.” His mouth is hot against your ear now, words dripping filth. “And you’ve had my child. My child. Fuck, do you know what that does to me? Knowing you carried me inside you?”

You nod, face burning, thighs squeezing together.

His chuckle is cruel. “You’re shy? Now? After all the things we did? You’re still my perfect little mess.”

“Sunghoon…” It’s more of a moan than a plea. Your hands twist in his shirt, pulling him closer when you should be pushing him away. Kissing softly.

Then he freezes. Pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes soften but his chest heaves like a man possessed. “Hey.” He grips your chin, forcing your watery eyes up. “I won’t disappoint you. Not again. I want you to trust me. For real. I’m serious.”

Your lip trembles. You cup his face, fingers shaking, and kiss him. Chaste. Pure. The softest kiss either of you has ever given.

It feels like family. Like home again.

But the second his room door clicks shut... it all burns down.

Neither of you notice if it even closed properly, too busy ripping clothes off, shoving, kissing, sloppy and wet. It’s frantic. It’s five years of hunger with no patience left.

“I love you so much,” he growls, forcing your back against the massive bay window. The glass chills your skin through your thin dress. Your gasp turns into a whimper when his hands start roaming: from your neck to the small of your back to your boobs—everywhere but where you need them.

“Please.” You writhe, rocking up into his touch. “Don’t tease. Hoon... I want you...”

He smirks. Cruel. “You’re so needy. You missed me this much, huh?” His hands skim over your hips, then slide down in a teasing arc. You choke on a sound. You feel ridiculous and raw and suddenly dizzy with want, nodding aggressively.

But he jerks back, like he’s giving you a provocation you can’t refuse. “Prove it,” he whispers, dropping back to the couch by the window and watching you. The night sky frames you. He leans into the back of the couch, hand freed, robed in patience, like suddenly he's an empire of patience.

And you fucking do it.

Sunghoon watches you give yourself over with glassy eyes. He drinks in the sight of you—one hand gripping the arm of the couch like a man counting seconds, the other working himself off. He says nothing for a long moment, because watching you slide on the floor, caressing yourself, begging with wet eyes, is its own kind of triumph.

“You’re dripping,” he mutters, eyes glued to your face, “and I’ve barely touched you. You always were too easy for me... Fuck, forget what I said. Come here.”

He gets up just to drag you on top of him, back on the couch. His fingers slide inside, slow, curling. “Christ. You feel so good, better than my memory... Like your body’s been waiting for me to come back.”

You sob against his mouth, your hand clamping at his mouth to shush him. “Don’t say that. Don’t—oh fuck—”

You feel his smirk under your trembling hand as he smugly starts banging his finger inside you.

“Look at me when you come,” he says, freeing from your hand too easily. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I can’t—I—ah—” Your body arches, shuddering as his fingers hit just right.

“Yes you can. Scream for me.” His words bite deep, and you break, crying his name as you unravel around his hand.

But he doesn’t give you time to breathe. He covers your mouth with his, swallowing your sobs as he pushes inside you in one hard thrust. The stretch is brutal. Perfect. Too much.

“hmmff—fuck—you’re—” You claw at his biceps, voice wrecked, trying to free yourself from the new feeling.

“You feel insane, huh? You were made for me.” He slams harder, jaw clenched, eyes blown. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours, I’m—” Your voice cracks into a scream as your second orgasm crashes through you too fast.

You feel yourself falling back from dizziness, but he doesn’t let you. "Hey, come here." He pulls you up, making you think both of you are going to the bed, just to haul you up by the arms and thrust back where he belongs, still relentless, until you’re begging, sobbing. “Oh my—Go—Please. Please, Hoon!”

It was such an obscene move that only he could pull on you. Fucking to the bed, not wanting his dick out of you more than 5 seconds. God, only Sunghoon could do that to you and you love it.

It almost feels like a win when he drops you on the edge of the bed. Your wet skin meets the fresh sheets, and your body keeps arching into it.

This vision is pure porn material to Sunghoon, your perfect damp skin wrestling with the canvas he led you on, hair painting it messily. Creating a new image every time he thrusts inside you. He fucking gets lost in that vision, thrusting, thrusting, and thrusting.

His hand roams from the small of your back to the back of your neck. He finally scoops your head, locking you in his muscled arm, not too forceful. Your body limp against his chest.

“There’s so much more to come. Don’t pass out on me, sweetheart.”

You sob, shaking, your body instinctively trying to anchor somewhere. “Please. Please I'm gonna—”

When he finally lets you come, it rips you apart. But he doesn’t stop. He folds you in half, fucking you through it, deeper, harder, until you’re marking his back with your nails. He groans into your ear, voice breaking.

“Scar me. Make me yours. God, I want to fuck you until I knock you up again. Keep you swollen with me. Forever.”

Your eyes blur with tears, body trembling, words lost in the wreck of your throat. "H—oon—" He kisses them away, whispering roughly against your lips:

“I love you. I fucking love you. And I’m never letting you go again.”

When you finally break together, it’s violent. Sweaty. Beautiful. Five years of silence burned to ash in the sound of your cries and his desperate groans and bites in your neck.

He lets your legs fall back. You hug him, bringing your hands into his thick, black hair.

🕚

Your body is still flush against his when you. Sunghoon's lying on your back, his arm locking you in place, the lingering warmth of him inside you making it impossible to separate. The world outside the bedroom feels distant, muffled—the only thing that exists is the two of you, the way he drifts tiny kisses over your shoulder, over your jaw, hands never leaving your body.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs into the curve of your neck, voice low, ragged, almost reverent. “Every part of you… even this…” His palm drifts over your belly, soft, lingering, and your chest tightens as a shiver rolls through you. “You had my child,” he whispers, eyes closed, like he can’t quite believe it still. “Our boy… I can’t stop thinking about him.”

You turn around, fingers tangling in his hair. “I wanted you to know… I wanted you to see him. To… to be part of it.” Your voice is soft, sleepy, still shaky from everything.

He hums, slow, satisfied, and presses another kiss there, right where your collarbone meets your shoulder. “I’ll be there. Every day I can. I want to be there for him. For you.”

Your gaze meets his, and it’s heavy, vulnerable, honest. “It won’t be easy,” you admit. “It’s… messy, all of it. I don’t want to pretend it’s perfect.”

“I don’t want perfect,” he says, shifting slightly so he can rest his forehead against yours. “I want this. I want us. I’ll take the hard work, the mistakes… just don’t disappear on me again.”

Your laugh is soft, breathless but full of warmth. “I’m not going anywhere, Sunghoon.”

He smiles, that dangerous half-smirk that’s always left your heart somewhere between a panic and a pulse you can’t stop. “Good,” he whispers. His hand drifts lower again, grazing your hip, thumb brushing lightly over the curve of your belly. “We’ll figure it out. Every day, together.”

You nod. Rolling over him, you rest your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling him slowly ease inside you, soft and steady. Every touch, every whisper, every gentle claim of you is a promise: he’s here, he’s not leaving, and he’s ready to face the mess with you.

He presses another kiss to your temple. “He’ll love you, Jihoon. Just like I do. You’re already his world.”

You both let out a shaky laugh, leaning into him, letting the warmth and the closeness settle into your bones. It’s intimate, it’s messy, it’s real.

Hours feel like minutes. Time stretches and contracts around the rhythm of your breathing, the lazy heat of skin on skin, slow sex, deep intimacy. And when the first quiet sighs of sleep approach, he tightens his arms around you once more, whispering, “We’ll get there. Together. I love you.”

You murmur a soft agreement, closing your eyes, letting the weight of him, the safety of him, carry you.

It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t perfect. There were scars, heartbreak, mistakes. But here, pressed together, with the faint city hum and the quiet of the night wrapping around you, it was enough. For now, it was everything you had ever wanted.

And somewhere between the whispers, the lingering warmth, the steady heartbeat against yours, you knew: you both would keep building it—

Chained together.

Hi guys, it’s Lassiie~ 🫶

Thanks so much for reading the requested Part 2 of CHAINED!

Wow… what a journey this one was. It went through like 5 different versions, but I stuck with this one because it made the most sense in my heart and was closest to my first idea. (Some of the other versions? Her getting engaged to someone else and him rushing in to stop it, or him coming up with some revenge plan… 😅)

Honestly, I'm not super confident about it. At one point, I ALMOST announced there wouldn’t be a part 2 at all… but I always keep my promises, that’s just how I’m built.

For this part, I decided to sacrifice some of the heavier smut in favor of storytelling and closure, because I know a lot of people felt sad at the end of the first part. Think of it as my little “sorry I made you cry” gift 💕

I also tried really hard not to reveal too much about Jihoon too soon, but I left some little clues for you to pick up on.

WRITING, IT ALSO MAKE ME REALIZE SOMETHING : I’ll never push myself to give any work until I’m truly sure about it or actively working on it. Honestly, writing this almost made me lose my hyperfixation for writing here because I kept getting distracted, wanting to start other, better, newer projects.... SO NO MORE PROMISED PART 2 IF IT'S NOT IN THE SCRIPT EVEN IF YOU BEG ME!!!

I hope you enjoyed it somehow 😭😭 but I know it's not gonna be anyone favorite at all, and it's ok! And for my smut-loving girls, don’t worry—there’s still a spicy treat waiting for you in DIGITAL GAME with Sunghoon!! as a little apology for this less spicy Part 2.

With love and a high fever Lassiie 🫶

TG : @hoondrop @thesundys @somuchdard @diameuwu @parkjeongpark @xoenhalover @gunilsguns @ri4-lovesenha @heekolazz @bambiihee @raven-unkind @mintchohoon @sofiafromvenus @w2hoonki @bacons-thighs @chibi-rach @ikeuceo @river-demon-slayer @eliephemeral @ @theyluvjake @i5woni @lmonade @thefallenhulya @i90snoo @ricepuddingluvr @won-derful @choeryyxyz @cyjhhyj @pinkbunnystories @taeogi @ancnymcnzjy @japieeey @koalaswillpeeonyou @xxxatdy @eternality @youtoopia @212diary @lovebamby22 @hnnnne @bvbblejayyyy @diameuwu @softservesungie @tinyenha @rspbrykawa @thicbucchi @nananananana-stuff @oreostoberi @heeshlove @joiigurl @ay0505050550 @janeluvwonuuuu @butterflydemons @deobitifull @jeonjieun17 @aubr3ysei @neorealm @taehyungslittlebrat69 @prettygirlthings-world @yazmike @kaiaonsaturn @icrieliterature @karinasbaby @hees-h0e @lynnlynnyuuashh @schniti-is-in-the-house @saccharinezennie @bacons-thighs @haocean @sangiewife @heejunluvr @monoidol @xiaoszone @hoonprksung @woniedoyouloveme @tinycatharsis @cutehoons02 @heebambilee @darling-delusions @luvminniexx @heeseung64 @heeknow @xerographx @bxbynana @sunghoonizz @saraabbas @melzonly @cutiepatootiejungwon @neozon3nha @hyundai432 @sofiafromvenus