https://x.com/cwchris_/status/2076306595487654279?s=20 anton in your sohee fic 😭
haha the real love story should have been them ending up in a poly relationship where sohee doms them both but i was too much of a coward..

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Türkiye
seen from Singapore
seen from China

seen from United Kingdom
seen from China

seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from Philippines
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Thailand
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
https://x.com/cwchris_/status/2076306595487654279?s=20 anton in your sohee fic 😭
haha the real love story should have been them ending up in a poly relationship where sohee doms them both but i was too much of a coward..
hii!! i just followed you and i was looking at your masterlist and none of the links are working lol
hey anon,
thanks for letting me know! it seems like tumblr had made all of my links invalid. it's taken me a few days but i've finally changed all links and updated my masterlist too :)
also a slight heads up that i will be inactive (not like i've ever been super active) till august due to some super important exams i have coming up, and i won't be able to write or work on anything for now. i might log in once in a while though, but definitely no posting.
that being said, i am hoping to complete and upload overdose vol 2 by september latest so fingers crossed.
i am keeping my requests open during this time, but again be aware i might not be able to get to them for a while <3
hi, not sure if you’ve noticed but the links to poison in your masterlist aren’t working i just found your account and was hoping to read it haha
— 🦌
hi my love, thank you for bringing it to my attention, i’ve just fixed it now :)
i don’t check my masterlist often so if links are not working please feel free to message me like this so i can update them <3
overdose — l.sh [ vol 1 ]
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 boyfriend’s best friend sohee x fem reader, infidelity, morally grey characters, slow burn, college au, smut,
synopsis: a psychological slow-burn about ego, bodily obsession, moral collapse, and the humiliating realization that attraction can exist alongside genuine disgust. a story about two people who begin by despising each other and end by discovering that desire, repeated often enough, can rot through every principle they once used to define themselves. the story explores college-age hedonism not as freedom, but as corrosion. sex becomes language. degradation becomes intimacy. shame stops functioning as a deterrent and instead becomes part of the thrill. by the end, neither of you are recognizable as the people you thought you were at the start.
WARNINGS: infidelity ( i swear i don’t endorse this in real life), slight misogynistic undertones, sohee being a dick at first (but it’s low-key justified), reader has a huge lack of morals and integrity, huge heavy dick sohee supremacy (canon at this point), brief mention of sex
a/n: another unintentionally long hiatus from tumblr while i was working on this. interestingly enough i had wrapped up this part by the end of may but editing has been a pain in the ass.
i originally intended for this to be one complete story, but somehow the wordcount reached 21k and i realised i was nowhere near finished with these characters or where i want this story to go. rather than rushing through the rest of the narrative or cutting down scenes that i felt needed space to breathe, i decided it would work much better if i broke it into parts instead. and made it a series i’ve already started outlining and writing part two, so hopefully the wait between updates won’t be too long ;)
this was genuinely one of the most fun things i’ve written in a while, and seeing everyone’s excitement over this idea has definitely been giving me more motivation <3
no filthy smut in this part which is a bummer but i promise it will be worth your while!!
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
the bass was loud enough that you felt it before the door even opened, low violent vibrations bleeding through the warped wood beneath your knuckles while somewhere inside the apartment somebody shouted over the music loud enough to earn a burst of drunken laughter immediately afterward. the hallway outside smelled faintly damp from earlier rainfall still clinging to people’s skin, though most of it disappeared the second sungchan finally pulled the door open and the heat from inside spilled outward into the corridor.
it hit your skin instantly.
thick overheated air dense with vodka fumes and sweat and whatever aggressively masculine cologne one of his friends had clearly drowned himself in, all of it tangled together beneath the stale lived-in smell the apartment permanently carried now from boys sharing one space for too long.
instant noodles, protein powder, and cheap alcohol.
sungchan filled the doorway almost completely when he opened it, one hand still loose around the handle while the other pushed absently back through his dishevelled hair, dark strands sticking faintly against his forehead beneath the hallway light. the sleeves of his top sat shoved messily up his forearms and there was already a faint flush spread across his cheeks that suggested he’d been drinking long before you got there, though the second his eyes landed properly on you something in his expression shifted immediately anyway.
softened. brightened. like seeing you standing there had pulled his attention fully back into focus after hours spent drifting lazily through noise and alcohol.
“you made it,” he said, and even over the music there was something stupidly genuine about the relief sitting beneath the words.
his gaze moved quickly over you after that, not subtle enough to miss. the short skirt, your bare legs disappearing into boots still damp from outside, the tiny black top clinging tightly enough to your body that the silver glint of your belly piercing caught briefly beneath the flickering hallway light. you watched his throat move once before his attention snapped upward again almost immediately, the corner of his mouth pulling higher like he’d just remembered he was supposed to pretend not to stare.
“what?” you asked lightly, though your mouth had already started curving before he could answer.
“nothing,” he said too quickly, smiling wider now. “you just look—”
“you look good,” he says, voice low and scraped raw, like the words had to fight their way out.
he swallows thickly, the pause stretching long and dangerous between you, his eyes flickering dark with thoughts that are anything but pg. the air between you already feels heavier, charged, like one move could make it spark.
“good enough to rip my clothes off?”
the words came easily, shamelessly, and the effect was immediate. sungchan’s expression faltered for half a second before a breathy laugh escaped him, his eyes dropping briefly toward the floor like he needed the second to pull himself back together.
“maybe,” he muttered eventually, though the answer sat too low and too honest beneath the music to sound convincing as a joke.
another burst of shouting erupted somewhere deeper inside the apartment immediately afterward, followed by loud drunken laughter from the kitchen, but sungchan barely seemed to register any of it anymore. his attention stayed fixed on you instead while his hand settled automatically against your waist to pull you inside, palm broad and hot, fingers spreading wide over the strip of bare skin above your skirt. the touch is deliberate, thumb brushing once, twice, slow and firm enough that heat blooms low in your belly and spreads outward in a rush.
even after the door clicks shut behind you, he doesn’t let go. his fingers stay pressed there, warm and slightly calloused, the faint tremor in them telling you exactly how hard he’s working to stay in control. you feel the heat of his body radiating against yours, the clean scent of his cologne mixed with whiskey and something darker, something that makes your mouth water.
inside, the light slides over you again and his eyes follow it greedily, slower this time, drinking you in like he’s starving. his fingers flex once against your waist, pressing harder, almost a warning, then he leans down. the kiss he aims for your cheek lands dangerously close to the corner of your mouth instead, warm, the faint burn of whiskey on his lips and the scrape of stubble against your skin sending a sharp shiver racing down your spine.
when he pulls back he doesn’t go far. his face hovers inches from yours, breath hot and ragged against your lips, eyes half-lidded and dark with want. you can feel the tension vibrating off him, every tight muscle coiled like a spring, the way his chest rises and falls too fast, the faint dampness of his palm where it grips you tighter.
his name cracks through the haze, loud and sharp, yelled from one of his friends in the kitchen. the voice cuts straight through the thick air like a blade, followed immediately by another burst of rowdy, drunken laughter that echoes down the hallway. sungchan’s whole body jolts just slightly, the spell fracturing. he rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, slow and annoyed, the movement pulling the strong line of his throat into sharp relief under the dim light. for a second the frustration is plain on his face, jaw tight, like the interruption physically pains him.
his hand never properly leaves your waist as he guides you further into the apartment, palm resting low against your side while he steers you through the crowded hallway with absent familiarity. the music grows louder the deeper you move inside, bass shaking low through the floor hard enough that you can feel it vibrating faintly up through the heels of your boots, while voices overlap messily from every direction at once until individual conversations become impossible to separate from the noise.
people notice sungchan bringing you in almost immediately.
not in a dramatic way, nothing in the room pauses long enough for that. but heads turn briefly as you pass through the apartment anyway, quick half-drunk acknowledgements thrown in your direction between conversations while bodies shift lazily aside to let both of you through.
“finally,” one of his friends' mutters from the couch, slouched so far back they’re practically horizontal against the cushions already. “he’s been checking his phone every five seconds.”
“shut the fuck up,” sungchan shoots back automatically, though the grin tugging briefly at the corner of his mouth ruins any actual irritation behind it.
the kitchen comes into view a second later, brighter than the rest of the apartment beneath harsh overhead lighting that exposes every smear of spilled alcohol and hands pressed into the countertops. bottles crowd almost every available surface, some half empty already, others tipped sideways beside bowls of crisps and sweets. somebody has abandoned a hoodie over one of the barstools while another person leans heavily against the fridge laughing hard enough that their entire body folds forward with it.
sungchan finally lets go of your waist only long enough to make space for you between the counter and himself, guiding you naturally toward the empty stretch of marble like he’s done it enough times before not to think about it anymore. his hand brushes lightly against your thigh as you hop up onto the counter, skirt dragging higher from the movement while the cold surface presses briefly against the backs of your legs before the apartment heat swallows the sensation almost immediately again.
sungchan moved around in the narrow space between your knees and the counter, half distracted now by the growing list of demands being thrown at him from different corners of the apartment. somebody wanted more ice, somebody else was already complaining the drinks were too weak. another voice cut through the music asking where the vodka disappeared to, followed immediately by a chorus of drunken disagreement from somewhere near the living room.
he laughed under his breath at all of it, one hand braced briefly against the counter beside your thigh while the other reached past you for another bottle, the movement forcing him close enough that the warmth coming off him pressed directly into your skin. every few seconds his attention drifted back toward you automatically anyway, like his focus kept snagging there no matter how many conversations pulled at him from the rest of the room.
the pitcher sitting on the counter beside you filled slowly while he worked, liquor splashing softly against ice beneath the music while he reached for bottles and mixers without really looking anymore, moving with the loose familiarity of somebody who’d hosted enough nights like this before. the kitchen crowded tighter around both of you with every passing minute, shoulders brushing together, people squeezing through narrow gaps behind sungchan while the apartment heat thickened steadily beneath the lights.
at some point his hand disappeared absently into the open bowl sitting beside you, fingers brushing through sweets and chocolate bars before he pulled out a lollipop between two fingers.
“strawberry’s your favourite, right?”
you nodded once.
the wrapper crinkled softly between his fingers while he unwrapped it one-handed, and when he looked back toward you again his gaze dropped automatically to your mouth first before lifting upward. something shifted briefly across his expression at the sight of the gloss still shining there beneath the kitchen light, subtle enough that you almost missed it entirely.
his hand settled beneath your chin a second later, fingers warm against your skin while he tilted your face upward slightly to push the lollipop into your mouth for you. the candy pressed sweet and artificial against your tongue immediately, and sungchan’s eyes stayed there a fraction too long when your lips closed slowly around it.
his thumb lingered briefly beneath your jaw after the lollipop disappeared between your lips, the pad of it dragging once lightly against your skin before he finally pulled his hand away again, though his gaze still hadn’t properly left your mouth yet. the music swallowed most of the room whole around you both but sungchan looked momentarily detached from all of it standing there between your knees, attention narrowing into something quieter and warmer beneath the noise.
you sucked lightly against the candy without breaking eye contact and the reaction was immediate as his throat moved once.
a quiet curse slipped from somebody behind sungchan drags his attention away from your mouth long enough for him to glance sideways again, though the faint flush spread across his cheeks had deepened noticeably beneath the kitchen lights now.
“bro,” another voice cut through the kitchen over the music, lower and rougher around the edges from alcohol, “i think we need more paper cup—”
the words stopped halfway, sohee just pushing his way properly into the kitchen crowd when he noticed you sitting there.
his body stalled for a fraction too long near the counter, eyes lifting automatically toward sungchan first before landing on you between the harsh overhead lights and the cluttered kitchen mess around you both. messy brown hair hung loose across his forehead, slightly damp and curling faintly at the ends from the apartment heat, while the thin silver chains resting against his throat caught briefly beneath the light whenever he moved. his shirt looked wrinkled already, stretched slightly at the collar over the darker long sleeve underneath, sleeves pushed carelessly up his forearms like he’d stopped caring hours ago about fixing them properly.
for a second he said nothing at all.
his gaze moved once over the scene in front of him, sungchan standing between your legs, your skirt riding dangerously high against the counter edge before something shifted subtly across his face, tightening hard enough around the mouth and jaw to sharpen his entire expression almost instantly.
somebody squeezed loudly past him toward the fridge, shoulder knocking against his arm hard enough to jostle him slightly, but sohee barely reacted. his eyes remained fixed on the two of you another second longer while his tongue pressed once against the inside of his cheek like he was forcing something back down.
sungchan looked up first, oblivious to most of it.
“we’re out already?” sungchan asked with a laugh.
sohee’s attention finally dragged away from you then.
“yeah,” he muttered, voice flatter now than it had been when he first walked in, the words clipped short enough that even sungchan glanced at him for half a second afterward.
whatever mood he’d been in before entering the kitchen seemed to have vanished entirely beneath the weight of seeing you there, replaced instead by something visibly restrained sitting tight across his face while he grabbed one of the abandoned cups near the sink and brought it up to his face to demonstrate.
“our friends drink like fucking alcoholics.”
sungchan laughed as he finally moved away from the space between your knees a second later, the sudden absence of him leaving the cold edge of the counter more noticeable against the backs of your thighs, legs dangling loosely over the side now while noise and movement swelled around the kitchen again to fill the gap he’d left behind.
across from you, sohee still hadn’t looked your way again.
his back was half turned while he leaned one shoulder against the counter near the stove, cup hanging loose from one hand while another guy beside him spoke animatedly about something neither of you cared enough to listen to. even from where you sat you could still see the tension sitting visibly through the line of his shoulders though, jaw set hard enough beneath the kitchen lights that the muscle there shifted every few seconds like he was grinding his teeth without realising it.
it irritated you instantly, because the sheer hostility of it had started feeling excessive at this point. every interaction with sohee carried this same unpleasant edge now, this constant sense that merely existing in the same room as you immediately worsened his mood, his responses flattening into clipped little remarks before he inevitably found some excuse to occupy himself elsewhere. the longer it dragged on the more it started getting beneath your skin too.
sungchan returned a few minutes later balancing a stack of paper cups against his chest alongside a tray of brownies somebody had apparently shoved into his hands halfway back to the counter. he dropped the cups beside the bottles before setting the tray down near you, the smell of burnt chocolate drifting upward almost immediately beneath the heat hanging thick through the kitchen.
“hungry?” sungchan asked distractedly. “we have brownies.”
your eyes drifted lazily toward the tray. one side had escaped mostly intact, but the other had darkened several shades too far, the edges bordering on charcoal while the centre remained suspiciously uneven.
“those burnt looking things are brownies?”
sungchan glanced down at the tray before laughing quietly beneath his breath.
“hey, those are the ones sohee made,” he said, already sounding halfway defensive before you’d even answered. “they’re actually good.”
you pressed your tongue slowly against the candy in your mouth before looking back toward the brownies again, unconvinced.
“i'm not putting that in my mouth.”
“you're being dramatic.”
“i'm being sensible. attempting to swallow one of those things feels like a disaster waiting to happen.”
sungchan let out a quiet breath that sounded suspiciously like the beginning of a laugh before he managed to stop it, his mouth twitching once as though he had suddenly remembered whose brownies were being discussed.
unfortunately, sohee had heard it too.
you could tell from the way his attention shifted briefly in your direction before settling elsewhere again, the reaction small enough that most people probably wouldn't have noticed it. he didn't say anything immediately. instead he reached for the vodka bottle sitting beside the sink, unscrewing the cap with slightly more force than seemed strictly necessary before pouring himself a drink. the glass knocked softly against the countertop when he set the bottle down again, his focus remaining fixed stubbornly on the task in front of him despite the fact the conversation had very clearly stopped being about brownies several seconds ago.
“crazy,” he said eventually, voice low enough that it almost disappeared beneath the bass rattling through the apartment.
his eyes lifted toward you then for the first time since entering the kitchen properly, the look in them flat and steady enough that irritation prickled immediately beneath your skin before he even finished speaking.
“i didn't realise you'd become so selective about what you chose to swallow now.”
the comment settled neatly into the space between all three of you, ugly in the way it took a moment to register properly, slipping into the conversation with the same ease as everything else that had been said that evening despite the fact it landed infinitely harder. you sungchan freezing almost immediately, small enough that nobody else would, but close enough that you felt it anyway. the way his body stalled halfway through reaching for one of the cups, the easy looseness that had been sitting across his face all night disappearing so quickly it almost felt wiped clean. even his smile dropped slightly at the corners before he looked down toward the counter instead, exhaling slowly through his nose while his fingers tightened once around the stack of cups hard enough to bend the top one inward.
“sohee,” he muttered quietly, exhaustion settling heavily beneath the warning now like this was an argument he already knew too well.
irritation flared almost immediately after the words left his mouth, sharp enough that you found yourself pulling the lollipop slowly from between your lips before you even realised you'd stopped sucking on it. the entire kitchen seemed to shift around the feeling, overcrowded, every passing shoulder an inconvenience, every burst of laughter unnecessarily loud. even the music vibrating through the apartment walls had started to feel less like background noise and more like something pressing insistently against your skull. across from you, sohee still looked infuriatingly composed despite the tension sitting visibly through every line of his body.
except he wasn’t composed at all.
you could see it now the longer you looked at him. there was a strange inconsistency to him, tiny fractures appearing beneath the surface the harder he tried to maintain it. subtle enough that nobody else in the room would have noticed but impossible to miss once your attention settled properly on him. the composure was still there, at least outwardly, but it no longer felt effortless. there was a faint rigidity to him now, an unusual awareness in the way he held himself, as though every instinct urging him to look away was being actively overruled by something stronger.
the cool indifference he wore so comfortably around everyone else had begun slipping in place, yet he kept looking at you.
being looked at by sohee always carried this unpleasant feeling you couldn’t fully explain because there was never anything impulsive or openly emotional about it. nothing softened in his face when his eyes moved over you. no awkwardness, no embarrassment, no recklessness that could be dismissed as drunkenness. if anything, the restraint made it worse because every glance felt too deliberate, dragged slowly over you with the same visible displeasure.
your fingers curled tighter into your palm before you finally snapped.
“grow the fuck up, sohee.”
sohee lifted a cup toward his mouth instead, taking a slow swallow while his gaze stayed fixed steadily on you.
“i think,” he said eventually, voice flat enough to disappear almost completely beneath the bass, “you’ll find the one who needs some growing to do is you.”
beside you, sungchan sighed quietly through his nose, the sound almost disappearing beneath the noise filling the apartment, though you still caught it. when you glanced toward him briefly his hand was rubbing slowly at the back of his neck now, shoulders noticeably tighter than before while his gaze stayed fixed somewhere near the counter instead of either of you.
you laughed softly under your breath, the sound mean enough around the edges that sungchan’s shoulders visibly tightened beside you, clearly not a joyful sound.
“god,” you muttered, shaking your head once. “you’re such a fucking asshole.”
sohee’s mouth twitched faintly at that, though it looked closer to contempt than amusement.
“am i wrong though?”
he sounded calm saying it, certain which somehow irritated you more than if he’d shouted.
“sohee. please,” sungchan cut in quickly this time, voice lower now as his eyes flicked briefly between both of you.
“can we not do this tonight?”
sohee said nothing else, standing there across from you with his eyes fixed steadily on your face, expression pulled tight enough now that it looked almost painful. you could practically see the argument still sitting there behind his teeth, something harsher clearly threatening to surface every time his jaw shifted faintly beneath the tension holding it shut. even the silence coming from him felt hostile somehow and every second he stood there saying nothing seemed only to make whatever was lodged beneath your ribs spread further, sinking its hooks deeper instead of loosening them.
then eventually his eyes rolled once before he took a slow breath through his nose, the kind people took when they were forcing themselves not to say something they’d regret afterward.
“whatever.”
the word came flat and clipped beneath the music before he stepped away from the counter entirely, disappearing back toward the living room crowd without another glance in your direction.
you watched him walk away, expecting some of the unpleasant energy between you to disappear with him, only to find it clinging stubbornly behind. it sat low and heavy inside your chest now, impossible to ignore, colouring everything around it. by the time he disappeared fully into the crowd you were still looking in the direction he'd gone, annoyed by him, by yourself for still thinking about him, and most of all by the fact he'd somehow managed to get the last word without saying another thing.
“he’s actually insufferable,” you muttered under your breath.
it was only then that sungchan seemed to relax beside you, something easing in him almost immediately after sohee disappeared into the crowd. the slight distraction that had lingered beneath his expression throughout the exchange finally disappeared, his focus settling properly again now that he no longer seemed caught between two opposing directions. a quiet breath left him before he stepped back into the space between your knees, one hand finding your thigh automatically while the other reached for the abandoned drink sitting beside you.
“why do you guys have to argue every two seconds?” he asked eventually, though the question sounded tired enough that it was obvious he already knew the answer somewhere beneath it and simply didn’t want to touch it directly.
you let your arms slide loosely around his shoulders, drawing him closer without really thinking about it, his familiar warmth replacing some of the agitation still buzzing unpleasantly beneath your skin. for a moment you only looked at him, taking in the faint crease still lingering between his brows, the way he seemed to be waiting for an answer he already suspected he wasn't going to get.
“i don’t know,” you mumbled lazily. “ask your guard dog.”
sungchan snorted softly beneath his breath at that, though it lacked some of the easy warmth from earlier. instead his forehead dropped briefly against your shoulder, eyes falling shut briefly as though he was allowing himself a second to decompress now. his hand remained resting against your thigh, thumb moving once in a slow absent sweep before going still again.
he stayed quiet after that, his grip resting loose against your thigh while the kitchen carried on around both of you in blurred fragments of movement and colour, conversation and music blurring together into little more than background noise. he seemed content to remain exactly where he was, leaning comfortably into the space between your knees while your fingers drifted idly through the hair at the back of his neck. after a while the exchange stopped feeling like something actively unfolding and became just another passing moment absorbed into the noise of the evening, buried beneath laughter, half-finished conversations and the restless movement of people weaving through the apartment.
and yet some unpleasant remnant of the exchange still lingered stubbornly beneath your skin, refusing to settle no matter how thoroughly you tried to ignore it.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
sunlight filtered weakly through the gap in sungchan’s blinds in thin pale strips, cutting across the room in uneven bands that exposed the aftermath of last night piece by piece. clothes abandoned carelessly across the floor, one of your boots tipped onto its side near the desk, half-empty bottles crowding the nightstand beside tangled charging cables and somebody’s forgotten wallet. the air still carried the stale heaviness of alcohol soaked too deeply into fabric to disappear overnight, tangled together with the lingering warmth of sweat, detergent, and the faint musky trace of sex that clung stubbornly to the sheets beneath you.
you felt sungchan before your eyes fully opened, the weight of his body pressed heavily against your back, one arm locked tight around your waist even in sleep while one of his thighs remained hooked between yours. your body protested immediately the second consciousness returned fully, soreness blooming slow and deep in your muscles, not sharp enough to hurt but lingering everywhere in that heavy satisfying way that only came after being fucked properly.
your eyes narrowed against the stripe of sunlight falling directly across your face while somewhere beyond the bedroom walls the apartment hummed faintly with morning noise, pipes groaning softly and the low distant buzz of a refrigerator motor struggling through the silence. sungchan stirred slightly behind you when you shifted again, his grip tightening automatically on instinct before his face buried deeper into the back of your shoulder, still half asleep.
your own skin felt warm beneath the oversized shirt you’d stolen from him sometime during the night, fabric hanging loose over the bruises blooming darker now along your collarbone and thighs. even swallowing felt dry from the alcohol still lingering in your system, tongue heavy against the roof of your mouth while you stared blearily toward the ceiling another moment, letting the ache between your legs settle deeper before finally trying to pull yourself free from sungchan’s grip.
he made a low sound immediately, somewhere between a groan and complaint, eyebrows tightening without fully waking while his hand slid slowly across your waist like he was trying to keep you there even unconscious.
“where are you going,” he mumbled thickly, voice roughened by sleep, barely understandable against your shoulder.
“kitchen,” you muttered back automatically, already prying his arm loose despite the way he resisted weakly.
sungchan only sighed softly through his nose before finally letting go enough for you to slip out from beneath him, though even then his fingertips dragged lazily across your waist at the last second like his body disliked the distance instinctively. behind you the mattress dipped again when he rolled onto his back, one arm falling across his face while the sheets slipped low enough to expose the fresh red scratches streaking across his chest and shoulder from the night before.
you barely spared the sight more than a passing glance before padding toward the bedroom door barefoot, the cold wood floor biting against the lingering warmth still trapped inside your skin.
the apartment looked worse in daylight.
last night the darkness and coloured lights had hidden most of it beneath shadow and movement, but now everything sat exposed beneath the weak morning sun. sticky rings staining the coffee table where drinks had been abandoned hours ago, empty bottles lined crookedly along the kitchen counters and the general debris left behind by too many people staying up far later than they should have.
the kitchen tiles felt even colder beneath your feet when you stepped inside, the chill climbing briefly up your legs while the refrigerator hummed even louder in the silence. the fridge light spilled pale and artificial across your face the second you pulled the door open, cold air brushing across your skin while you stared blankly inside for a moment trying to decide what you actually wanted. there wasn’t much besides energy drinks, leftover takeaway containers, beer, and half-finished cartons shoved carelessly onto shelves between sauces and protein shakes.
eventually you reached for the carton of orange juice sitting near the front anyway before taking a slow drink straight from it without bothering to grab a glass first, the cold sweetness hitting your tongue sharply enough to make your face tighten slightly.
you hummed absently under your breath without really realising it while setting the juice down against the counter, fingers drifting lazily toward the fruit bowl sitting near the stove before grabbing a strawberry from where it had been abandoned among packets of crisps.
the familiarity of the apartment settled strangely easily around you.
you knew where everything was without thinking. which cabinets stuck when you pulled them too hard. where sungchan kept clean glasses because his friends never put them back properly. which side of the sink leaked if the tap twisted too far left. your body moved through the kitchen automatically, like it had done it enough times before to stop feeling unfamiliar entirely, and there was something almost invasive about how naturally you occupied the space this early in the morning while the apartment still looked half-undressed from the night before.
still chewing slowly on the strawberry, you stretched up onto your tiptoes to reach one of the higher cabinets, fingers brushing uselessly against the edge before finally nudging it open with a soft curse beneath your breath. one hand braced lazily against the counter to steady yourself as you searched blindly for the nutella jar shoved somewhere near the back shelf.
behind you came the slow shuffle of footsteps dragging across the floorboard which you barely thought about at first, presuming it was sungchan. your head turned eventually anyway, expecting to see him stumbling sleepily into the kitchen after you, still half buried in exhaustion from the night before, but the motion stalled halfway through when your eyes landed on sohee standing near the entrance instead.
his hair hung messily across his forehead in uneven dark strands, flattened strangely on one side from sleep while the rest stuck out in different directions like he hadn’t bothered trying to fix it yet. one eye remained barely open while he rubbed tiredly at it with the side of his index finger, shoulders rising and falling slowly beneath the lingering heaviness of sleep and alcohol both. he was shirtless too, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips while the thin silver chain resting against his chest shifted faintly when he exhaled through his nose.
his gaze stayed lowered at first while he moved further into the kitchen still rubbing distractedly at his eye, clearly making his way toward the cabinets beside the sink without really thinking, but the second he finally looked up the movement stalled halfway through. his hand dropped slowly from his face while something in his expression hardened almost on instinct, shoulders pulling tighter beneath the lingering heaviness of sleep as his eyes moved over you once in silence, dragging briefly across the oversized shirt hanging loose against your body, the bruises exposed beneath the hem where your legs were still bare, the darker marks scattered visibly along your neck now that daylight exposed everything last night had blurred softer at the edges.
you watched his jaw tighten hard enough for the muscle there to flick once beneath his skin before his gaze shifted away again toward the counter instead, though whatever exhaustion had still been softening his face moments earlier seemed to disappear almost immediately afterward, replaced by that same familiar tension that always surfaced around you now, restrained but impossible to miss once you knew what to look for.
the silence stretched long enough afterward to become noticeable. you watched him open the cabinet beside the sink harder than necessary, the wood cracking sharply against the frame before settling again, and the sound seemed to linger awkwardly afterward in the already overheated kitchen.
he crossed toward the sink with that same rigid restraint threaded through every movement, like walking into the kitchen and finding you there first thing in the morning had immediately forced something sour beneath his skin that he was trying very hard not to let spill over. the tap screeched faintly when he twisted it on too hard, water crashing sharply into the glass while you stayed where you were beside the counter spreading nutella across bread in slow distracted motions, pretending not to notice the way the atmosphere in the room had shifted completely around him. five minutes ago the apartment had felt sluggish and half asleep, heavy with leftover alcohol and silence, but now the kitchen carried that same ugly tension that always seemed to bloom the second the two of you occupied the same space too long.
you could feel him behind you without looking properly. the weight of his silence settled strangely against your spine while the knife dragged another dark stripe of chocolate across the bread in your hands, your movements slowing slightly the longer he stood there refusing to speak. water dripped steadily from the bottom of his glass onto the counter after he finally lifted it to his mouth, the sound irregular and irritatingly loud against the quiet while he swallowed once, twice, lingering there beside the sink long after somebody else would have either said good morning or left the room entirely.
instead, his voice finally cut through the kitchen low and roughened by sleep.
“so is this the new thing now?”
the question landed wrong immediately. not because of the words themselves, but because of everything sitting underneath them, the irritation threaded tightly through his tone, the accusation buried beneath something that sounding dangerously close to disgust. your hand paused briefly against the bread before continuing again anyway, slower now, deliberate, not giving him an answer.
“you two are back together?” he pushed on after a while, clear that you weren't so enthusiastic to reply.
you glanced over your shoulder at him then.
he was leaning back against the sink now with one hand braced against the marble beside him. there was something rougher about him this morning than there had been the night before, the careful composure he usually carried around seeming slightly out of place against sleep-flushed skin and the faint shadow darkening beneath his eyes. under different circumstances it might even have made him look younger.
instead, it only made the look he gave you feel more honest.
“like it’s any of your business,” you answered flatly.
for a second neither of you moved. then sohee laughed quietly under his breath. the sound wasn’t amusement, it was sharper than that, bitter around the edges in a way that instantly made your shoulders tense.
“right,” he muttered, pushing himself upright again before reaching for the glass again.
“because you hanging around my kitchen every other morning wearing his clothes and helping yourself to my food apparently has nothing to do with me.”
your grip tightened around the knife automatically at the use of his words. irritation climbed hot through your chest at the sight of him standing there acting like your mere existence inside the apartment was something contaminating, like you touching the counters or opening the fridge somehow personally offended him.
you turned fully toward him then, bread still in one hand while the knife rested carelessly against your fingers.
“whatever,” you said sharply. “do you have a problem with it or something?”
sohee’s eyes settled on you properly for the first time since entering the kitchen, the question lingering between you for a moment.
you had expected the answer immediately. a sarcastic remark, an insult or some variation of the same dismissive attitude he’d been throwing at you all morning.
instead, he stayed silent.
it wasn’t a long silence, barely a couple of seconds at most, but it felt strangely significant coming from somebody who normally seemed to have an opinion ready the second your name entered a conversation. his attention remained fixed on you while the pause stretched just enough to make the absence of an answer feel like one in itself.
which, unfortunately for him, told you everything you needed to know.
“we both know i do.”
the words settled into the kitchen heavily enough that the silence afterward felt almost suffocating.
you became suddenly aware of everything at once, the sticky counter pressing faintly beneath your fingertips, the hum of the refrigerator vibrating softly through the room, water still dripping from the tap beside sohee in slow uneven intervals that sounded unnaturally loud now.
sohee stayed standing there with the empty glass hanging loose in his hand and there was something uniquely unpleasant about the composure of it all. the comment had been cruel enough on its own, but what lingered afterward felt worse somehow, because nothing about him suggested he'd spoken impulsively or regretted it the second it left his mouth. he looked exactly the same as he had before, standing there with that same unwavering certainty settled across his face, as though his dislike of you was not something he wrestled with but simply a conclusion he'd reached a long time ago and no longer felt any need to hide.
you opened your mouth to answer him, the words already sitting there ready to leave, but somewhere down the hallway came the heavy sound of footsteps dragging unevenly across the floorboards followed by the low rough scrape of a yawn, and a second later sungchan appeared in the kitchen doorway still half asleep.
he looked completely wrecked by sleep in the most predictable way possible, hair flattened messily against one side of his head, eyes narrowed against the brightness while he rubbed distractedly at his face with the heel of his palm before letting his arm fall again. he hadn’t bothered pulling a shirt on either before following you out of the bedroom, only a pair of dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and the second he stepped properly into the kitchen the marks left behind from the night before became impossible to miss. red scratches dragged unevenly across the broad slope of his chest and shoulder, darker bruises scattered beneath his collarbone and throat where your mouth had lingered too long hours earlier, all of it exposed carelessly beneath the harsh honesty of daylight.
his gaze found you immediately.
whatever lingering tension had settled through the kitchen seconds earlier seemed completely lost on him still, buried beneath sleep and whatever soft haze remained from waking up warm beside somebody. he crossed toward you without hesitation, movements slow and heavy with exhaustion while another yawn caught him halfway across the room.
“why’d you leave,” he mumbled, voice roughened by sleep.
before you could answer properly his arms slid automatically around your waist from behind, chest pressing warm against your back while he folded himself into your space like it was instinctive by now. the weight of him settled heavily against your shoulders while his face disappeared into the crook of your neck, breath warm against your skin before he pressed two absentminded kisses there, lazy enough to feel unconscious.
you barely reacted beyond shifting slightly against him to keep spreading chocolate across the toast balanced in your hand. the knife scraped softly over bread while sungchan stayed draped over your back, eyes probably half closed again by now judging from the way his body seemed to melt heavier against yours with every passing second. your fingers lifted automatically anyway, brushing once through the messy hair at the nape of his neck out of habit while you took a bite from the corner of the toast.
“couldn’t sleep with you crushing my organs,” you muttered around the mouthful.
sungchan laughed quietly against your neck, the sound low and tired while his mouth brushed carelessly over one of the darker marks there again.
“you're so dramatic.”
across the kitchen sohee hadn’t moved from the counter.
his eyes stayed fixed somewhere near the sink rather than directly at either of you, lingering there with an intensity that suggested the opposite wall had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the apartment.
sungchan stood there with sleep still clinging warmly to his body, face buried against your neck while your scent lingered all over his skin and the marks from last night sat openly across his chest in front of the one person in the apartment who looked least interested in seeing them. sungchan stayed folded around you comfortably enough that the intimacy of it started feeling almost invasive beneath the silence pressing in from the other side of the room.
“jesus christ,” he muttered, voice rough with exhaustion and something meaner sitting underneath it. “you guys are disgusting.”
the words landed flatly into the kitchen air, not loud enough to qualify as a real complaint and somehow worse because of it, the kind of under-the-breath remark that sounded like it had slipped out before he could stop himself.
sungchan finally lifted his head slightly at that, sleep still lingering visibly across his face, softening the sheepish grin pulling briefly at the corner of his mouth while one arm remained looped lazily around your waist.
“sorry bro,” he mumbled, though the apology came out distracted, almost fond in the absentminded way people apologised for things they had no real intention of stopping.
a small ugly thought slipped quietly into place the second you looked at sohee properly again and saw the way his jaw locked tighter beneath the apology, the way his shoulders had gone rigid enough to sharpen the entire line of his posture while he stared fixedly at the counter instead of either of you. something about it scratched at you immediately, something deeply satisfying in watching composure crack visibly across somebody who spent so much time acting above you, disgusted by you, permanently one second away from looking at you like he regretted sharing oxygen in the same room.
suddenly you wanted to see how far it could go.
sungchan had already started pulling away again by then, attention drifting back toward the kitchen half asleep now that he’d acknowledged the comment, but before he could properly step back you caught the silver chain resting against his chest between your fingers and tugged him downward again.
the metal pressed cold briefly against your fingers while his body stumbled back toward yours on instinct, surprise flickering faintly across his face before your mouth crashed against his, hard enough to stop thought completely.
the kiss turned messy almost immediately, not slow or affectionate but excessive in a way that bordered on ugly, all wet mouths and clashing teeth and the sharp pull of the chain still wrapped around your hand while sungchan made a startled sound low in his throat before kissing you back just as hard. your toast stayed abandoned forgotten against the counter while his hands tightened instinctively around your waist again, one sliding upward against your ribs beneath the oversized shirt as the kiss deepened into something far too heavy for the middle of a quiet kitchen at nine in the morning.
when you finally pulled apart for air a second later, it happened slowly enough to feel almost deliberate. a thin string of saliva stretched briefly between your mouths before snapping apart, sungchan still close enough that his breath stayed warm against your lips while his fingers flexed harder against your waist beneath the fabric. his mouth looked swollen already, slightly parted from the force of the kiss, and for a second neither of you moved away properly, still suspended too close together in the thick stale heat hanging through the kitchen.
then you looked at sohee, really looked at him.
sohee remained where he was beside the counter, and for a second his attention seemed to catch on the sight of you still half tangled around sungchan before he remembered himself. the look lingered only briefly, yet it felt longer somehow, long enough for you to watch something dark pass across his face before he finally dragged his gaze elsewhere. whatever composure had been holding together the edges of the morning no longer looked quite as effortless as it had earlier, the disgust sitting openly across his features now in a way that felt almost impossible to misinterpret.
something about the reaction exhilarated you in a way you hadn’t expected, the sheer intensity of his visible discomfort scratching at something mean beneath your skin while the overheated kitchen seemed to close tighter around the three of you. your mouth curled faintly before you could stop it, teeth catching lightly against your lower lip while sohee’s expression hardened further at the sight, and before the silence had time to settle properly again your fingers tightened around sungchan’s chain once more as you pulled him back down toward you.
this kiss deepened immediately, slower this time, but somehow worse for it.
your mouth opened against his without hesitation while sungchan let out another low sound that disappeared into the kiss itself, hands tightening harder around your waist as your fingers drifted downward beneath the oversized shirt, brushing dangerously close to the waistband of his sweatpants. not enough to actually touch him there, but enough that his breathing faltered faintly against your mouth anyway, his body reacting on instinct while the kiss grew heavier, wetter, excessive enough that the entire thing started feeling deliberately uncomfortable beneath the silence hanging through the kitchen.
across the room, sohee shoved himself away from the counter so abruptly the empty glass beside him tipped sideways with a sharp crack against the marble, the sound slicing cleanly through the thick silence hanging in the kitchen and finally pulling sungchan away from your mouth.
the kiss broke messily, slowly, sungchan staying close enough that his breath still lingered warm against your lips while one of his hands remained spread beneath the oversized shirt at your waist. confusion flickered briefly across his face first before the sluggish embarrassment followed behind it, his eyes shifting toward the counter where sohee had already moved away from the sink.
“bro, i—”
the apology barely made it halfway out before sohee cut straight through it by moving again.
he crossed the kitchen too quickly, every movement carrying that same tightly restrained sharpness that had been sitting beneath his skin since walking into the room and finding you there. he grabbed the fallen glass from beside the sink without looking toward either of you once, shoving it upright beneath the tap while water rushed noisily into it. sohee stood there with his back half turned, one hand flattening briefly against the front of his sweatpants near the waistband before dropping away again almost immediately.
sungchan shifted slightly behind you now, finally seeming awake enough to recognise properly that the atmosphere in the kitchen had curdled into something deeply uncomfortable while he stood caught awkwardly in the middle of it. you could feel the hesitation settle through him in the way his grip loosened fractionally at your waist, torn somewhere between lingering embarrassment and the instinctive need to smooth things over before they escalated further.
but sohee clearly had no interest in helping him do that.
he drained the glass of water too quickly before shoving it back into the sink with another dull clatter, still refusing to look directly at either of you while he reached for the hoodie hanging over one of the kitchen chairs. he dragged it over his head in one rough motion, messy hair catching briefly beneath the fabric before stepping toward the hallway again, his voice cut low through the kitchen without him bothering to turn around.
“you guys make me sick.”
the words landed heavily enough to seem to settle into the walls themselves, sungchan going still behind you for a second after that, caught halfway between guilt and frustration while sohee disappeared down the hallway without waiting for a response, the sound of his bedroom door shutting a moment later muffled but firm enough to linger afterward in the silence.
the apartment felt strangely hollow once he was gone, not calmer, just empty.
the tap still dripped steadily into the sink beside the abandoned glass and somewhere behind you sungchan exhaled softly through his nose before letting his forehead drop briefly against your shoulder. you could already feel him trying to think through whatever had just happened, trying to rearrange it into something smaller and less uncomfortable than it actually was, but your attention stayed fixed on the hallway instead, on the lingering echo of sohee’s reaction and the sharp ugly thrill that still sat curling low in your chest because of it.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
a week later, exhaustion had settled so deeply into your body that it no longer arrived in waves anymore. it simply existed there constantly, stitched into your muscles and behind your eyes, dragging everything slightly out of focus no matter how much caffeine you poured into yourself to fight it.
by the time you finally submitted the essay for your literature class due that morning, your brain already felt half rotten from lack of sleep, thoughts moving sluggishly beneath the fluorescent glow of the lamp in your room after spending most of the night switching uselessly between half-written paragraphs and sungchan’s mouth whenever he distracted you from working long enough to pull you back into bed.
college had started feeling like that lately. not difficult exactly, just repetitive in a way that slowly hollowed the days into each other until everything blurred together into the same cycle of unfinished assignments, energy drinks, overcrowded lecture halls and sleeping far too little before forcing yourself awake to do it all over again.
by noon your entire body ached with tiredness. two empty energy drink cans sat crushed inside your tote bag alongside crumpled snack wrappers and loose sheets of annotated readings you hadn’t touched properly in days, and every sound around you felt louder than it should have beneath the dull headache pressing steadily behind your temples. conversations overlapped endlessly through the hallways outside the lecture theatres, hundreds of voices bleeding together beneath squeaking trainers against polished floors and the constant buzz of phones vibrating across desks, while groups of students drifted lazily between classes clutching iced coffees.
you barely registered most of it anymore while making your way through campus, shoulders heavy beneath your bag as another cold gust of wind followed students in through the automatic doors, dragging yourself toward the cafeteria.
the place was already packed when you stepped inside, tables crowded with half-open laptops, untouched salads, coffee cups balanced dangerously close to lecture notes. your eyes found your friends near the middle of the cafeteria almost immediately.
mina spotted you first. her entire face twisted the second you approached the table, somewhere between concern and outright disbelief before she burst into laughter loud enough to make chaewon glance up from her phone too.
“oh my god,” chaewon snorted, shoving her tray slightly aside to make room for your bag when you reached them.
“you look actually dead.”
you dropped into the empty chair beside them without even bothering to answer properly, letting your forehead fall heavily against the cool surface of the table with a groan muffled into crossed arms.
“don’t talk to me,” you muttered weakly. “if anybody speaks too loudly near me i might genuinely throw up.”
jiwon laughed from across the table while tearing open another ketchup packet. the sugary iced coffee chaewon pushed toward you smelled almost painfully sweet when it landed beside your elbow.
still, you took it immediately.
your fingers curled around the cold plastic cup while the girls slipped easily back into conversation around you, gossip bleeding between complaints about assignments and lectures in the effortless way it always did whenever the four of you ended up together between classes.
“what time did you even go to bed this time?” jiwon asked eventually, watching you with the same mixture of concern and judgement people usually reserved for raccoons digging through bins at three in the morning.
you didn’t even bother lifting your head properly from the table when you answered.
“that’s presuming i went to bed.”
“maybe,” mina started, carefully setting her coffee cup down, “if you spent less time fucking sungchan and more time actually doing the work assigned to you, you wouldn’t constantly look like you’re on the verge of death.”
jiwon gasped immediately despite the smile pulling at her mouth while chaewon nearly choked on one of her fries, shoulders shaking with laughter as you lifted your middle finger weakly in response.
“it’s for health reasons,” you muttered flatly.
“stress is bad for the body. what am i supposed to do when i need tension relief? obviously i get fucked by sungchan.”
“yeah but every other night?” she shot back. “surely you’re not that stressed.”
“you’d be surprised.”
mina stared at you another second before something visibly clicked behind her eyes, and then suddenly she was folding over the table cackling so hard she could barely get the words out properly.
“wait—” she wheezed, grabbing jiwon’s sleeve for support while laughing harder. “oh my god, sungchan’s literally just your stress ball. no, seriously, think about it. because he has balls and i bet you squeeze those when you’re stressed too—”
chaewon nearly slammed her forehead into the table laughing while jiwon shouted a sharp “mina!”, loud enough to draw annoyed glances from another table nearby, but you only rolled your eyes despite the smile tugging faintly at your mouth now.
“laugh all you want,” you muttered. “you’re just bitter because jaehyun got a girlfriend and now you can’t call him every weekend to dick you down anymore.”
her smile faltered into exaggerated offence while the others burst into louder laughter at her expense this time, and she pointed at you with a deeply wounded expression plastered across her face.
“that’s a touchy subject actually,” she informed the table solemnly. “i’m still in mourning.”
“thoughts and prayers,” you replied dryly before taking another sip of coffee.
“i do wish i had a sungchan though,” she admitted after a second. “like objectively speaking, it must be nice having somebody that obsessed with you. and he's good in bed.”
“it is,” you answered easily, stretching back slightly in your chair now that the caffeine had finally started hitting your bloodstream.
“when he’s not being emotional about everything. i swear every time we fuck he starts talking about how much he misses me or how i’m the love of his life or whatever.”
“this pussy must genuinely be made out of gold,” you finished with a shrug.
“ENOUGH.”
“oh my god, please shut up.”
“nobody asked for this.”
you only laughed this time, slower and more awake now while mina stared across the table looking personally offended.
“oh,” chaewon muttered suddenly, eyebrows lifting faintly. “speak of the devil.”
you frowned before turning slightly in your seat, following her line of sight across the room.
sungchan had just stepped into the cafeteria, one hand hooked loosely around the strap of his bag while the other pushed distractedly through his hair as though he’d only just dragged himself awake properly within the last hour. people greeted him constantly without seeming to think about it and sungchan slowed for everyone without ever seeming irritated by it.
he reached the table a few minutes later, dropping his bag carelessly beside the empty chair nearest to you before leaning down automatically, one hand brushing lightly against the back of your seat as his mouth pressed briefly against your cheek in greeting.
“you look exhausted,” he murmured quietly.
“i am exhausted.”
his laugh stayed low beneath the surrounding cafeteria noise while he straightened again, finally acknowledging the rest of the table with an easy nod.
“hi.”
greetings circled back casually enough between your friends and him, familiar and brief after two years of watching sungchan orbit in and out of your life in one form or another.
the conversation flowed back into itself after that, with the same careless familiarity that always seemed to exist whenever your friends gathered together long enough between lectures. chaewon had already started complaining again about one of her professors assigning another reading packet nobody intended to finish while jiwon scrolled halfheartedly through her calendar trying to figure out when exactly all of her deadlines had become impossible to keep track of. beside you sungchan stole fries from mina’s tray with the kind of absent entitlement that suggested he’d been doing it for years.
absentmindedly, your eyes wandered around the room, stopping on two girls near the vending machines. you recognised one of them properly now that you looked longer, dark hair tucked behind one ear while she leaned lazily against the wall listening to the other girl speak.
yuna.
you’d seen her around enough times through sungchan’s wider social circle to place her immediately, usually lingering around parties with some of sohee’s friends or sitting near them during campus events. not close enough to matter personally, but familiar enough.
and now she was looking directly toward your table in brief glances threaded between conversation, her attention flicking toward sungchan beside you before shifting quickly back toward the girl she was talking to. the other girl noticed it too eventually, following yuna’s gaze until both of them looked toward your table at the exact moment sungchan leaned closer to steal the iced coffee from your hand without asking first.
normally you probably wouldn’t have thought much of it. people knew sungchan and they looked at sungchan all the time. still, something about the exchange sat strangely with you anyway, even after your attention returned to the conversation unfolding around the table.
beside you, sungchan remained completely oblivious to any of it.
mina slapped his hand away for what was probably the fourth time after catching him reaching across the table to steal another fry from her tray, and the sound of his laugh slipped easily into the noise of the cafeteria while he leaned back in his chair.
“you genuinely eat like somebody raised in captivity,” mina informed him flatly while dragging her tray farther out of his reach.
“you’ve eaten more of my food than your own.”
“sharing builds community.”
“i don’t want to build a community with you, dimwit.”
sungchan only grinned at that, slow and unbothered, before his knee knocked lightly against yours again beneath the table. then, from the corner of your eye, movement caught your attention again.
yuna had started walking toward your table. the girl beside her followed half a step behind while yuna adjusted the sleeve of her sweater absently, gaze fixed toward sungchan now with the casual confidence of somebody approaching a conversation she expected to slide into easily.
“hey,” yuna greeted once she reached the table, voice light while the girl beside her hovered quietly near her shoulder.
most of her attention settled on sungchan immediately, though not naturally enough to completely disguise the awareness sitting underneath it. you caught it anyway in the brief flickers of her gaze toward you and back again, the slight hesitation before speaking, like she was trying to navigate around something awkward without fully understanding where the awkwardness had even come from in the first place.
sungchan looked up first, expression easing easily into recognition. “oh, hey yuna. minji.”
“we’re still doing minseok’s party tomorrow,” she said. “you’re coming, right?”
“probably,” sungchan answered. “i completely forgot that was this weekend.”
“you disappeared halfway through the last one,” minji added with a laugh. “you still owe yuna for abandoning her during beer pong.”
sungchan smiled faintly beneath the accusation, rubbing absently at the back of his neck.“i had an early class the next day. i couldn't stay up late like the rest of you guys.”
“sure,” yuna replied, clearly unconvinced.
the smile pulling at her mouth lingered a second longer before she shifted the coffee cup between her hands and looked back at him properly.
“well, you can make it up to me tomorrow.”
“how?”
“show up before everyone else for once.”
the answer came easily enough that it almost sounded rehearsed.
“i'm serious. everybody always turns up late anyway.” her head tilted slightly toward him. “come early with me. we can get drinks before the place gets packed and i'll decide whether i've forgiven you yet.”
there was nothing overtly inappropriate in the suggestion itself. if anything, the confidence behind it was what made it obvious. the assumption that he would say yes, that there was room for the question in the first place.
the shift in sungchan happened almost immediately afterward, the easy openness he'd greeted her with moments earlier tightened faintly around the edges while his eyes flicked instinctively toward you before returning to her again, like he'd noticed that this conversation was no longer socially neutral.
“uh,” he started, laughter slipping awkwardly beneath his breath while one hand settled loosely against the side of your chair near your waist.
“i was actually planning on going with them.”
his gaze drifted briefly toward you.
“and honestly i don't think y/n would be too happy if i disappeared with somebody else before the party.”
his tone stayed gentle throughout it, apologetic almost, the kind of soft rejection only somebody like sungchan could deliver without making the other person feel openly embarrassed. still, the effect landed immediately.
you watched confusion surface visibly across yuna’s face before she could smooth it away. not jealousy, not even annoyance, just genuine confusion.
minji looked between you and sungchan too now, expression faltering slightly as though the picture sitting in front of her no longer matched the version she’d been carrying around beforehand.
“oh,” she said slowly. “i didn’t realise you guys were..”
the silence that followed settled thickly across the table, because at the exact same moment sungchan answered, you did too.
“we’re not—”
“we’re figuring things out.”
the overlap cut awkwardly through the middle of the conversation before collapsing into silence all over again, and beside you sungchan immediately stopped speaking while minji visibly realised she’d stepped into something far messier than she’d originally intended approaching the table.
“sorry,” she corrected quickly. “i just thought—”
she hesitated briefly, eyes flicking toward yuna before continuing automatically.
“but that’s not what sohe—”
yuna reacted instantly.
“we should go,” she interrupted sharply over the end of the sentence, fingers catching lightly around her friend’s wrist before she could finish whatever she’d been about to say. awkwardness had started creeping visibly into both their expressions now, discomfort spreading fast.
they were leaving before anybody else could properly respond, disappearing back into the noise of the cafeteria while the strange heaviness left behind stretched across the table in their absence.
mina was the first one to break the silence.
“i’ll give you five bucks right now,” she muttered flatly, watching the two girls retreat across the cafeteria, “if sohee’s not the one feeding people bullshit about the two of you."
the mention of his name landed unpleasantly in the middle of your chest, like a match against something already overheated.
you felt it almost instantly, that ugly flare of annoyance twisting sharper beneath your ribs now that the pieces had finally started arranging themselves properly together.
lee sohee. of course it was him. it had to be.
across from you, chaewon rolled her eyes faintly before leaning back into her chair with an expression somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion.
“that guy genuinely needs psychiatric help,” she muttered. “like actually.”
“honestly, at this point i'd be more surprised if it wasn't.”
“guys,” sungchan cut in quietly, the discomfort finally visible now in the slight tension pulling between his brows. “why would sohee even be talking about us?”
mina turned toward him so quickly it almost made you laugh.
“sungchan.”
“what?”
“you cannot be serious.”
“i am serious,” he answered, though the confidence behind it already sounded weaker now.
“because he hates her,” chaewon replied flatly, gesturing vaguely toward you. “have we all forgotten that?”
“okay,” sungchan sighed, rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck. “he doesn't like her. we all know that. but that's completely different from him going around talking about us to random people.”
“is it?” mina asked.
the question hung there for a second.
“because yuna didn't act like somebody taking a shot in the dark. she acted like somebody who thought she had a genuine chance.”
“we were broken up for a while,” sungchan replied, though there was already less certainty behind it than before. “people know that.”
“and now we're not,” you said flatly.
sungchan's eyes flicked toward you.
“that's not—”
“then what exactly is it?” irritation slipped into your voice before you could stop it. “because she seemed pretty comfortable asking you to ditch me and go drink with her alone.”
“i'm just saying i don't think sohee would do something like that.”
“really?" mina asked with a lifted eyebrow.
“i don't know,” he said after a moment, quieter now. “i just think there's probably another explanation.”
nobody at the table looked particularly convinced, least of all you.
there was something deeply violating about the assumption sitting underneath it all in a way you struggled to articulate properly even to yourself. the knowledge that somebody who already looked at you with such obvious contempt had apparently spent enough time talking about your private life for it to start leaking outward into other social circles entirely.
you did not care whether people thought you and sungchan were serious. you did not even particularly care whether people thought the situation between you was messy. what you cared about was the fact your business had somehow stopped being yours.
beside you, sungchan shifted slightly in his chair before his hand brushed lightly against your knee beneath the table, tentative enough to feel almost cautious now. you could tell he was trying to smooth things over before they became something uglier, trying to keep the fragile balance he always seemed desperate to maintain between you and sohee from cracking open completely in front of him.
but the frustration had already rooted itself too deeply by then to disappear so easily, sitting low and heavy, simmering steadily beneath your skin in a way that refused to cool no matter how much you tried brushing it aside afterward.
it lingered long after the conversation moved on. through the rest of your lectures while your attention drifted uselessly between powerpoint slides and unfinished notes. through the walk back to your apartment afterward. through the messages mina kept sending later that evening complaining about sohee on your behalf.
it followed you all the way through to the next evening in quiet irritating waves, your apartment slowly filling with noise as music vibrated low through the walls as you all got ready for minseok's party. makeup products cluttered every available surface around your vanity, tangled necklaces mixed between half-zipped bags and abandoned hair clips while the sharp smell of perfume and setting spray settled thickly through the room beneath the heat coming from your curling iron left running against the counter.
outside the windows the city glowed softly beneath the darkening sky, headlights smearing into blurred ribbons of white and gold against rain-damp streets while somewhere below your apartment building groups of students drifted between bars and pre-drinks wrapped in jackets against the cold.
usually the ritual of getting ready helped smooth you back into yourself again. there was something easy about nights like this most of the time, sitting cross-legged on the floor while mina argued loudly about outfits she claimed to hate five minutes after choosing them herself, chaewon stealing your lip gloss without asking, jiwon stretched across your bed scrolling absentmindedly through playlists trying to find music everyone agreed on.
but tonight your patience felt thinner than usual. annoyance sat there stubbornly, dull and oppressive and impossible to ignore no matter how many times you tried pushing the entire situation to the back of your mind.
you stood in front of the mirror dragging eyeliner carefully along your lashline while mina hovered behind you trying to clasp your necklace into place with noticeably declining patience.
“hold still,” she complained.
“i am holding still.”
“you keep moving your head.”
“because you’re yanking my shoulder off.”
mina clicked her tongue in annoyance before finally managing to fasten the necklace properly. “there. god. you act like a difficult toddler.”
you fell quiet, turning back to your hair as sohee's name surfaced again, mina’s earlier jokes about committing acts of violence against him still sitting somewhere in the back of your head.
behind you, chaewon glanced up from where she sat curled against the edge of your bed adjusting the strap of her heel.
“if he says one weird thing to you tonight i’m throwing my drink at him.”
“please don’t,” jiwon sighed from the pillows. “i don’t wanna get kicked out just because drunk chae wants to get activated.”
“why are we acting like i’m the problem? he’s literally evil. spawn of satan even."
despite yourself, a small laugh escaped through your nose at that.
the sound of the apartment buzzer cut briefly through the music, jiwon glancing up first from where she sat cross-legged near the end of your bed.
“that’s probably sungchan,” she said, pushing herself up from the mattress while smoothing down the front of her skirt.
“finally. if mina keeps changing outfits we’re genuinely never leaving this apartment.”
“i heard that,”mina shouted from somewhere inside your bathroom.
the apartment door opened less than a minute later followed by the low murmur of voices drifting faintly down the hallway before footsteps approached your bedroom. you barely looked up at first, attention fixed on the careful line of lip liner gliding across your mouth through the mirror before giving him a glance and he looked good tonight, annoyingly good, honestly.
the black shirt stretched cleanly across his chest and shoulders beneath the leather jacket hanging open against his frame while silver glinted softly at his throat from the chain resting against his skin. his jeans sat low against his hips in that careless way that somehow only made him look broader, longer, and hanging loosely from one of the belt loops near his thigh was the small basketball charm you’d bought for him months ago during one of those stupid little shopping trips neither of you had even planned on turning into a date at the time. you had forgotten about it entirely until now.
“damn,” he laughed quietly, gaze moving over the disaster zone of makeup and clothes covering nearly every surface.
“it looks like a war zone in here.”
he greeted the others easily enough, exchanging quick familiarities. through all of it you barely shifted from the mirror, still smoothing carefully along the edge of your bottom lip while the conversation blurred softly together behind you.
warmth settled suddenly against your back. sungchan’s hands slid loosely around your waist from behind while he leaned forward enough for his chin to rest against your shoulder, the weight of him familiar and heavy.
“hi,” he murmured quietly.
you hummed absently in response without pausing your makeup, continuing to blend the edge of the liner with your fingertip while his hold around your waist tightened slightly for a second like he was trying to pull himself a little closer.
the shift in him afterward was subtle as he straightened slightly behind you before one of his hands slipped upward from your waist. his fingers brushed lightly along your jaw before hooking gently beneath your chin, angling your face back toward him until your eyes finally met his properly through the mirror. up close, the concern sitting beneath his expression became easier to read, softened into the slight pull between his brows and the careful way his gaze searched yours like he was trying to gauge what mood he had walked into tonight before deciding how to handle it.
“you’re still mad at me."
you rolled your eyes faintly, though not with much real energy behind it. “i’m not mad.”
the corner of his mouth twitched slightly at that like he did not believe you for even a second. his thumb brushed once absently beneath your jaw while he continued watching you, warm and patient in that way that normally made it impossible to stay irritated with him for very long.
behind you mina made a loud disgusted noise from somewhere near the bed, complaining dramatically about the two of you, but neither of you paid much attention to her. the previous night still sat unpleasantly between you both, unresolved in that quiet lingering way arguments sometimes became when neither person felt strongly enough to keep fighting but neither fully let the irritation go either.
the argument itself had not even been particularly serious in hindsight. sungchan had done what he always did whenever things involving sohee started turning ugly, trying to soften the situation before it escalated any further while you grew increasingly annoyed by how determined he seemed to be to keep the peace no matter who ended up frustrated in the process. he had told you people talked all the time, that you were blowing things out of proportion and to not let it get to you so much.
“i just think you’re letting it bother you too much,” he said carefully after a moment, voice quieter now beneath the music still playing through the apartment.
“people say stupid shit all the time, it doesn’t matter as long as we know what the truth is.”
you reached automatically for your lipgloss again before answering, twisting the lid of the tube open slower than necessary while irritation curled low and unpleasant through your chest all over again.
“yeah,” you replied coolly, finally meeting his eyes through the mirror once more, “and your best friend seems to enjoy giving them material.”
the discomfort crossing his face afterward appeared immediately, something close to exhaustion, like he could already feel the conversation slipping toward the same place it always did whenever sohee became involved somehow. around the room the others fell quieter without meaning to.
"you sure love defending him too."
“i’m not defending him,” sungchan said softly after a second.
a quiet laugh escaped through your nose before you twisted the lipgloss shut harder than necessary and finally turned properly toward him now, the movement forcing him to take half a step back to make room between your bodies.
“you always say that right before defending him.”
something flickered faintly across his face at that. it was the exact same expression he used to wear during arguments toward the end of your relationship, back when every disagreement somehow managed to stretch itself across entire days because sungchan could never stop himself from trying to keep everybody happy at once. even when things between you had already started rotting quietly beneath the surface, he still approached conflict the same way every single time, desperate to smooth rough edges down before anybody could get hurt badly enough to leave permanent damage behind.
arguments with him never burned hot and fast. they dragged, lingered, turned into exhausted half-conversations at three in the morning and careful apologies neither of you fully meant just because sungchan hated tension enough to keep trying to fix it long after there was anything left worth fixing.
you could already feel this conversation threatening to become the same thing if it continued.
sungchan exhaled quietly through his nose, gaze dropping briefly toward the floor before lifting back toward you again. he opened his mouth like he was about to explain himself further, probably something measured and reasonable and endlessly diplomatic that would only irritate you more the longer he spoke, but before either of you could continue, chaewon abruptly stepped between the two of you holding out a shot glass toward your chest with the exhausted expression of somebody interrupting children mid argument.
“absolutely not,” she announced flatly while pressing the drink into your hand.
“whatever weird divorced energy this is can wait until after the party."
the interruption broke the tension just enough for the room to loosen around the edges again.
sungchan finally gave up on whatever he had been about to say, rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck before reaching automatically for your jacket instead. you tipped the shot back in one swallow, cheap alcohol burning sharply down your throat as everybody finally started gathering their things to leave.
by the time you had arrived near minseok’s house the alcohol had softened the edges of your mood slightly. the drive over had dissolved mostly into overlapping noise from the girls in the backseat arguing over music and shouting half-drunk stories over one another while sungchan drove with one hand loose against the steering wheel, city lights sliding in blurred streaks across the sharp angles of his face every time another car passed in the opposite direction.
the party was already spilling halfway out onto the street by the time you got there.
music thundered loudly enough that you could feel the bass vibrating through the pavement before you even stepped fully out of the car, warm bodies crowding the front lawn in loose clusters beneath strings of coloured lights. the sharp earthy smell of weed already bleeding thickly into the cold night air before you even reached the front door and inside felt worse, hotter.
the kind of suffocating heat that only existed inside overcrowded college parties where too many bodies had been packed together for too many hours already, sweat and cheap alcohol settling heavily into the air beneath flashing strobe lights that painted everything in brief violent bursts of colour.
mina grabbed your wrist almost immediately after stepping inside so nobody lost each other in the crowd, chaewon following close behind while sungchan stayed automatically at your back guiding you through the bodies pressing shoulder to shoulder around the entrance hallway. every few steps somebody stopped him to say hello, and each time he responded easily enough before turning back toward your group again almost immediately.
within the first twenty minutes the party had already started dissolving your group apart in the same natural way it always did once enough alcohol and noise got involved. chaewon disappeared first after loudly announcing she was “finding something stronger before she developed sobriety,” vanishing somewhere toward the kitchen with a determined expression and mina immediately yelling after her not to accept mystery jungle juice from engineering students again. not even five minutes later mina herself had dragged jiwon toward the centre of the living room where people were already dancing with the kind of reckless commitment usually reserved for much later in the night, disappearing quickly into the shifting crowd before either of them could be talked out of it.
you let them go without much thought. honestly, all you really wanted at that point was to get drunk enough for your brain to finally quiet down. the irritation from the past two days still lingered stubbornly and the more you tried not to think about it, the more it kept circling back anyway, ugly in its persistence.
so instead you drank. a vodka soda somebody shoved into your hand near the kitchen. half of mina’s drink that she had abandoned on the counter you leaned against. another shot pressed into your palm by somebody you vaguely recognised from one of your classes.
after a while the alcohol began settling properly into your bloodstream, loosening something inside you. your body felt lighter than it had earlier, thoughts moving a little slower around the edges while warmth lingered steadily across your cheeks. every now and then you caught yourself swaying slightly when you stopped moving for too long, the room never quite spinning but shifting just enough beneath your feet to remind you exactly how much you'd already had to drink.
eventually you ended up leaning against the wall near the entrance to the kitchen, momentarily removed from the worst of the crowd while taking another slow sip from your drink. from there you could still see sungchan not too far away across the room, trapped in conversation with two guys from the volleyball society while somebody else kept trying unsuccessfully to pull him into a drinking game happening near the kitchen island.
after another few minutes sungchan finally seemed to escape whatever conversation had trapped him across the room. not that it made much difference at first. people still kept stopping him on the way back, brief interruptions stretching what should have been a simple walk across the room into something noticeably longer. from where you stood, half distracted by the vodka settling warmly through your bloodstream, the whole thing felt oddly familiar. sungchan had always moved through rooms like that, never quite belonging entirely to himself once enough people were around.
“hey,” sungchan said once he stopped in front of you, voice lowered instinctively now that he was close enough not to shout over the music.
his hand settled automatically against the small of your back while he spoke, fingers spreading lightly over the exposed skin there before his thumb started moving in slow absentminded circles against one of the dimples near your spine. standing this close, the rest of the room seemed to narrow around him until most of what you could see was leather, broad shoulders and the line of his chest. his leather jacket smelled faintly like alcohol and cologne, warmth radiating from him strongly enough after spending the last hour moving through overcrowded rooms that it almost clung against your skin too.
for a few seconds neither of you really said anything while the crowd shifted around you in restless waves, then sungchan’s mouth twitched slightly.
“no dancing on tables tonight?”
despite yourself, a brief grin pulled at your mouth before you tipped your head back lightly against the wall behind you.
“definitely not in minseok’s apartment,” you answered dryly. “god knows what’s been done on that counter.”
the laugh that escaped him came easy, low and genuine enough to pull a quieter one from you too before the sound dissolved naturally back into the chaos around you. afterward the moment softened slightly into something quieter between the two of you, sungchan still standing close while his eyes searched your face more carefully now that you had finally smiled at him properly for the first time all evening.
“and us?” he asked after a moment, voice gentler now beneath the noise surrounding you. “we’re okay?”
instead of answering immediately, you lifted the drink toward your lips only to realise the cup was empty, ice knocking quietly against the plastic while your gaze drifted briefly somewhere over his shoulder.
there was no point dragging this out anyway.
sungchan was not your boyfriend anymore, and the entire reason the two of you had slipped into this strange undefined limbo in the first place was specifically to avoid situations like this, avoid expectations and conversations and the slow exhausting feeling of slipping back into old habits that demanded far more emotional investment than you actually wanted to give him. the relationship had already died once beneath the weight of too many unresolved fractures.
so you just placed the empty cup into his hands instead.
“we will be if you get me a refill.”
something visibly eased across his face at that, subtle but immediate enough for you to catch it anyway.
“one vodka lemonade,” he said while lifting the cup slightly in acknowledgment, “coming right up.”
then he gave a stupid little salute that made you snort quietly beneath your breath before finally stepping away from in front of you and disappearing back toward the kitchen, the crowd parting around his broad frame as your eyes followed him automatically across the room.
halfway toward the kitchen, he spotted sohee. you noticed the recognition immediately in the way sungchan’s pace shifted slightly before he angled naturally toward the opposite side of the room, one hand still holding your empty cup while he lifted the other briefly in greeting across the crowd.
and that was when you saw sohee properly for the first time that night.
the irritation that had been sitting stubbornly for the past two days seemed to sharpen immediately the second your eyes landed on him, spreading through your body in a way that felt almost physical. it settled low beneath your ribs before unfurling slowly outward, hot enough that your chest burned with it.
he stood near the corner of the living room beside one of the speakers, half-leaning back against the wall with a drink hanging loose from his fingers. the heat inside the house had softened him slightly around the edges compared to the version of him you usually saw, dark blond hair messier now where either his own hands or somebody else’s had clearly pushed through it repeatedly throughout the night, strands falling low across his forehead.
the black sleeveless top he wore clung close enough to show the lean definition of his torso beneath it, exposing toned arms already lightly flushed from alcohol while low-rise jeans hung carelessly against narrow hips secured with a dark belt sitting loose enough for the white waistband of his calvin klein boxers to become briefly visible whenever he shifted position or laughed.
and worst of all, he looked comfortable. comfortable enough that something about it felt almost disorientating to witness after months of dealing with the version of him that existed only around you, all cold silences and passive cruelty and sharp little comments designed to poison the atmosphere the second you walked into it.
right now none of that seemed visible anywhere on him. he was laughing quietly at something sungchan said after finally reaching him, shoulders loose while one of his friends shoved hard against his arm and nearly knocked the drink from his hand entirely. instead of snapping like you half expected him to, sohee only laughed again before pushing back at the guy’s chest while the rest of the group crowded around them shouted drunkenly over the music.
you hated that, hated the sharp imbalance of it. hated the fact that you had spent hours replaying unfinished sentences and ugly implications in your head while he apparently moved through life untouched by any of it.
it made something bitter curl tighter inside your chest.
almost like sungchan could physically feel the weight of your stare from across the room and suddenly remembered why he had walked away from you in the first place, his expression shifted slightly. he glanced back toward where you stood against the wall before nodding once toward the kitchen with his head, lifting your empty cup briefly in indication that he was finally going to get the refill he had promised you.
instinctively, your gaze found sohee again, almost before you properly realised you were searching for him, some part of you already anticipating the familiar shift that usually happened whenever he noticed your presence somewhere nearby. over the past few months you had become used to it despite yourself, the visible hardening that entered his expression the second his eyes landed on you, the subtle tightening through his shoulders and jaw, the way entire rooms seemed to cool several degrees whenever the two of you occupied the same space for too long.
but nothing happened.
even after sungchan stepped away, sohee never looked in your direction. he remained where he was near the speaker, one shoulder resting lazily against the wall while conversation continued around him, answering whatever was being said with the same easy familiarity as before without once glancing across the room.
your jaw tightened faintly while you continued staring across the room longer than you probably should have. from this distance it would have been impossible for him not to know you were there. sungchan had literally just walked away from your side moments earlier. there was no realistic way sohee had somehow failed to notice that.
which meant he was choosing not to look.
after all the hostility and sharp silences and passive cruelty that seemed to follow him every time the two of you ended up trapped in the same room together, some ugly part of you had still expected recognition the second his eyes landed on you tonight. at least acknowledgment.
instead you got nothing.
after everything, the indifference felt oddly insulting, the humiliating awareness that you had spent nearly forty-eight hours carrying this situation around in your head while sohee stood twenty feet away looking completely untouched by any of it.
your eyes stayed fixed stubbornly across the room despite yourself, following the careless rhythm of his movements. the absent way he pushed his hair back from his forehead while listening to somebody beside him speak, the slight tilt of his mouth whenever another laugh escaped him, the complete absence of that familiar guardedness while people crowded around him as though nothing in the world required his attention beyond the conversation he was already having.
sungchan finally reappeared through the crowd carrying a fresh drink in one hand while a small group of his friends followed loosely behind him, the familiar shape of johnny immediately recognisable. wonbin walked beside him saying something that made the others laugh while somebody farther behind nearly stumbled directly into the kitchen counter hard enough to send drinks sloshing over the edge.
sungchan reached you first.
“here you go, m’lady,” he said with a grin while holding the vodka lemonade out toward you, condensation already dripping cold against his fingers from the plastic cup. the stupid theatricality of it almost pulled another smile from you, and beside him johnny immediately snorted.
“god,” he muttered dramatically, slinging an arm across wonbin’s shoulders. “you two make me feel violently single.”
“that sounds personal,” you answered dryly before finally taking the drink from sungchan’s hand.
johnny pointed vaguely toward you like he had just been deeply validated somehow while the rest of the group laughed behind him.
the warmth in his expression softened slightly once your fingers wrapped around the drink he had brought back for you, like the simple act of accepting it had eased something inside him again after the strange tension lingering between you both all evening. he stayed standing close enough that his shoulder brushed lightly against yours every time somebody shoved past too roughly through the crowd, broad frame instinctively angling slightly in front of you whenever groups stumbled too near.
“wonbin apparently has some new strain he’s been talking about for like three days straight,” sungchan said after a moment, glancing briefly toward the front hallway where people kept drifting in and out carrying coats and cigarettes. “they’re gonna smoke outside for a bit.”
wonbin lifted his hands immediately in self defence. “because unlike the rest of you degenerates, i actually value quality when it comes to what i'm smoking."
“you bought it from a guy that calls himself spider,” johnny replied flatly.
“that means nothing.”
“that means literally everything.”
another wave of laughter rolled loosely through the group while sungchan looked back toward you again, expression gentler now beneath the flashing lights. “you wanna come?” he asked. “it’s quieter outside.”
“i’m okay,” you answered before lifting the drink toward your lips.
sungchan studied your face for a second longer like he was trying to decide whether he believed you before eventually nodding anyway. he leaned down afterward before pressing a quick kiss against your cheek.
“don’t disappear,” he murmured lightly near your ear.
then he finally stepped away again, johnny immediately slinging an arm across sungchan’s shoulders the second they turned toward the front door while wonbin continued loudly defending his self proclaimed mastery in the art of weed purchasing. you watched them disappear gradually into the shifting crowd beneath the lights until the front door finally opened.
your focus moved vaguely between the drink in your hand and the movement across the room without fully settling on either for very long until suddenly mina appeared beside you again looking flushed and glowing from dancing, strands of hair sticking lightly against her forehead while chaewon followed close behind fanning herself dramatically with somebody’s abandoned paper plate.
“oh my god,” mina breathed the second she reached you, still half laughing from whatever had just happened on the dance floor. “have you literally been standing here this entire time?”
you lifted the vodka lemonade vaguely in response before taking another sip. “i’ve moved at least twice actually.”
“who are you and what have you done with my fun best friend?”
chaewon leaned heavily against the wall beside you afterward, chest still rising slightly faster from dancing while the gloss on her lips had smudged faintly around the edges.
“ignore her,” she sighed dramatically before immediately grabbing your wrist. “listen to me instead because i think i finally found the man who’s gonna help me forget jaehyun.”
you raised an eyebrow slowly. “really?”
“you should have seen her” mina cut in immediately. “she was dancing on this guy like rent was due.”
“okay first of all,” chaewon snapped while fixing her hair in the reflection of the darkened window beside you, “he was really hot.”
“he looks like he hasn't had a single productive thought in a week.”
“i don't need a philosopher, i need a hot guy to fuck me.”
despite yourself, a quieter laugh escaped through your nose at that while chaewon continued ranting passionately about how she deserved to rebound in peace without being judged for it. around you the party seemed almost softer for a moment beneath the familiar rhythm of your friends talking over one another, the conversation managing to pull you out of your own head for a moment. while mina reached over to steal a sip from your drink before immediately grimacing at how strong it was.
“jesus christ,” she coughed. “what is wrong with you?”
“a lot actually.”
another wave of laughter passed between the three of you while chaewon suddenly glanced back toward the centre of the living room where a new song had apparently started, her expression changing instantly.
“oh absolutely not,” she gasped while grabbing mina’s arm. “they’re playing megan thee stallion. we have to go back immediately.”
mina groaned dramatically toward the ceiling before looking back at you again. “come with us this time,” she demanded. “you’ve been standing here looking emotionally unavailable for like forty minutes.”
“i’m fine here.”
“that look on your face proves otherwise.”
you only rolled your eyes before taking another sip from your drink, the cold sting of vodka and lemonade sliding numbingly down your throat while the bass continued vibrating through your chest.
"i don't need a babysitter, im fine."
mina hesitated for a second longer, eyes narrowing slightly like she was trying to decide whether to push harder. “you sure?”
“go dance,” you said finally, softer this time. “i’ll survive without supervision for five minutes.”
for all their dramatics and constant complaining, the hesitation lingering there was real enough that warmth flickered faintly through your chest despite yourself. eventually mina squeezed briefly at your arm before finally relenting.
“fine,” she sighed. “but if you suddenly become fun again, come find us.”
the two of them disappeared back into the crowd together, swallowed so quickly by the house that within seconds it was impossible to tell where they'd gone.
for a while you stayed exactly where you were, shoulder resting lightly against the wall while the night carried on around you without requiring much participation. conversations bled together into background noise, faces becoming increasingly difficult to keep track of the more you drank. the vodka had softened the edges of everything just enough that time started slipping strangely.
your gaze drifted without purpose at first, aimless beneath the haze settling slowly over your thoughts. then, inevitably, your eyes found sohee again.
this time he had drifted slightly away from the larger group, and the sight that greeted you lodged beneath your skin almost instantly. yuna stood close enough to him now that her body nearly brushed his chest while she balanced lightly onto the balls of her feet, one hand resting against the back of his neck to pull him lower toward her mouth so he could hear her properly over the music.
sohee bent automatically at the waist without hesitation, broad shoulders shifting beneath the thin black fabric stretched tightly across his back while his arms folded loosely across his chest, forearms flexing faintly beneath flushed skin from the movement. from this distance you could not hear a single word being exchanged between them, only the shape of the conversation disappearing entirely beneath the relentless bass swallowing the room whole.
still, something inside you tightened immediately at the sight.
because despite the complete lack of evidence, despite how irrational it actually was, you could not stop the immediate certainty settling low and poisonous inside your chest that somehow the conversation had circled back toward you. maybe it was yuna specifically that sharpened the feeling, the memory of the cafeteria flashing unpleasantly through your head all over again. maybe it was simply the fact that sohee had spent enough time occupying space inside your thoughts lately that now every glance around him felt loaded automatically whether it actually was or not.
you hated how much it bothered you.
hated the humiliating awareness that you were standing there trying to read meaning into body language and half-seen gestures like somebody genuinely unstable while sohee himself still looked maddeningly untouched by any of it. across the room yuna finally pulled back first, though her hand lingered briefly against the back of his neck another second longer before dropping away. sohee remained bent slightly toward her for half a heartbeat afterward before straightening again, eyes lowering briefly while she said one last thing that pulled the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
then he nodded once. easy, casual, completely unaffected.
afterward he handed her the drink still hanging loose from his fingers before turning away from the group entirely and starting toward the darker hallway leading deeper into the house where the music dulled slightly beneath the walls.
something inside you moved before your brain fully caught up to it.
your grip tightened automatically around the cup in your hand before you tipped the rest of the vodka lemonade back in one long swallow, the sharp burn sliding cold and heavy down your throat while your pulse thudded thickly somewhere beneath your ribs. by the time you lowered the empty cup again, sohee had already nearly disappeared from sight beyond the edge of the hallway.
you barely thought at all before pushing yourself away from the wall and following after him.
the sound of your heels carried sharply through the hallway once you stepped fully away from the party, striking against the wooden floor in slow measured clicks that felt strangely loud compared to the muffled bass now vibrating distantly behind the walls. the farther you moved from the living room, the quieter everything became, though not truly silent. music still pulsed faintly beneath the floorboards while laughter drifted somewhere upstairs alongside the occasional slam of a bathroom door farther down the corridor. the dim lighting softened the hallway into warmer shadows compared to the chaos consuming the rest of the house, catching unevenly against discarded jackets, abandoned cups and the thin sheen of sweat still clinging faintly to your skin from hours spent inside the crowd.
ahead of you, sohee remained half turned away near the bathroom entrance with his attention lowered toward the phone in his hand, one broad shoulder resting briefly against the wall while his free hand moved absently along the back of his neck. from this close, every detail seemed clearer somehow without the constant movement of the crowd between you both. the black sleeveless shirt stretched cleanly across the width of his shoulders and upper back whenever he shifted his weight, blond strands hanging damp and dishevelled across his forehead while the silver chain resting against his throat caught faintly beneath the yellow glow from the lamp nearby.
the moment the sound of your footsteps fully registered you observed the faint tightening that moved subtly through his shoulders before his head lifted from the screen in his hand and his gaze sharpened instinctively toward the sound approaching behind him. the second his eyes landed on you standing there at the centre of the hallway, recognition settled visibly across his face and erased whatever loose absent ease had existed there moments earlier.
it happened fast enough to feel almost automatic, the line of his mouth flattening slightly while something colder slid neatly back into place behind his expression, familiar in a way that made heat rise low through your chest all over again because finally, after an entire night spent pretending otherwise, sohee looked at you exactly the way you had been expecting him to.
for a few seconds neither of you said anything.
the silence, neither of you looking away from each other long enough to acknowledge it. up close now, the tension that had spent weeks festering beneath every interaction finally felt stripped of all the buffers that usually softened it, no sungchan standing awkwardly between you trying to smooth things over, no crowded kitchen forcing either of you to swallow your reactions before they escalated too far.
there was only the two of you now. and sohee looked exactly the way you had expected him to the second he finally acknowledged your existence again.
the loose ease he had worn across the party had disappeared entirely. the harder version of him had slipped immediately back into place the moment recognition sunk in, visible now in the stillness sitting through his body and the line of his mouth while his gaze remained fixed on you with that same familiar restrained hostility you had spent weeks learning how to read.
your eyes dragged slowly across his face beneath the dim hallway lighting before finally meeting his stare properly again.
“why the fuck have you been talking about me to other people?”
sohee’s expression tightened immediately afterward, not with guilt or surprise but with something closer to pure irritation, like the accusation itself offended him. one side of his mouth pulled faintly while he looked at you for another second before scrunching his face slightly in visible disgust.
“you really think i have so little going on in my life that i spend my time talking about you?”
“well clearly you do,” you shot back quickly, “seeing as yuna’s suddenly repeating information i’m pretty sure didn’t magically fall out of the sky on its own.”
at the mention of yuna, something flickered faintly across his expression before he scoffed under his breath, the sound sharp and genuinely irritated enough that it echoed slightly in the quieter hallway. he shook his head once afterward while looking at you like you were something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“so i spoke about you with one of my friends? not like i told her anything that wasn’t true.”
the words landed harder than they should have.
you stared at him for a second while then rolled your eyes slowly, the expression spreading deliberately across your face in a way that only seemed to sharpen the hostility already sitting between you both.
“you seriously don’t hear how fucking weird you sound?” you asked quietly, stepping closer now without properly realising it.
"seriously. what is your actual problem? because every time i turn around you've somehow made yourself part of something that never involved you in the first place."
“because unlike you, some people actually gave a shit about what happens to sungchan.”
“oh my god,” you laughed quietly. “you act like i ruined his life or something."
“but you did.”
the answer came so quickly it almost overlapped your own words.
for a second the hallway seemed to tighten around the both of you. whatever restraint had still been holding his composure together earlier was beginning to crack visibly around the edges, irritation bleeding steadily into something far rougher and more personal beneath the surface, like your complete inability to understand why he hated you this much genuinely disgusted him on some fundamental level.
“so stop standing here acting all shocked every time i make it obvious i don’t like you,” he continued, voice lower now but significantly less controlled than before.
“you don’t get to walk around acting all high and mighty after what you did.”
“for what though?” you shot back immediately, stepping closer now while heat climbed steadily through your chest.
“you don’t like me, okay, great. but you've spent months acting like a miserable prick every time i'm in the same room as you and i just don't get it.”
something snapped visibly across his expression then.
“because you fucking cheated on him,” he said, the words coming harsher this time, disbelief and anger twisting together beneath every syllable. “multiple times. then you walked away from him like he was the one to blame while he was already falling apart.”
your jaw tightened instantly.
“and now i’m supposed to believe you suddenly care about his wellbeing?” sohee continued before you could interrupt, eyes narrowing harder now while the muscles along his forearms flexed beneath crossed arms. “i’m supposed to believe you’re back in his life because of some newfound love for him or because you suddenly want a relationship again? give me a fucking break.”
the bitterness underneath his voice was ugly enough to scrape against your nerves.
"are you serious?" you laughed sharply. "that's what this is? you've spent months acting like i'm some sort of serial killer because i cheated on my ex-boyfriend?"
“you’re standing here bitching and crying over something he’s already moved on from,” you snapped back. “wish the same could be said about you.”
the reaction in him was immediate.
his jaw flexed hard enough for you to notice it beneath the dim hallway light while something genuinely furious darkened behind his expression for the first time since the conversation started.
“because he’s pathetic when it comes to you,” sohee said flatly. “i don’t know what sort of fucking hold you have over him, but it’s clearly clouding his judgement.”
“he’s pathetic because he’s not acting like some overgrown baby over cheating?” you scoffed. “oh my god, sohee, when the fuck are you gonna grow up?”
a humourless laugh escaped him at that, low and bitter enough that it immediately raised the temperature between you another degree.
“of course you’d say something like that,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly while looking down at you with open disgust now. “people like you always do.”
your eyebrows pulled together.
“people like me?”
“selfish people,” he said flatly. “people who leave a trail of damage behind them and then act confused when somebody points it out.”
"i guess being a bitch apparently becomes acceptable when you're pretty enough.”
“watch your mouth, sohee.”
“why?” he laughed bitterly, eyes narrowing now while the muscles in his jaw flexed visibly beneath flushed skin. “because hearing the truth makes you uncomfortable?”
“what makes me uncomfortable is you acting like some bitter fucking ex when none of this had anything to do with you in the first place.”
what had started as hostility had become something far uglier somewhere during the conversation, something raw enough that you could practically feel it tightening through the air around his body. because the second the words left your mouth, something in sohee’s expression changed completely.
the loss of control showed itself in smaller ways that somehow made it worse, the way his shoulders drew faintly tighter beneath the black fabric stretched across them, the way his jaw flexed once so hard you could see the muscle jump beneath flushed skin before he looked away briefly toward the floor like he physically needed a second to process what you had just said. when his eyes lifted back toward you again, whatever restraint had still been holding the conversation together earlier was visibly beginning to split apart around the edges.
“nothing to do with me?” he repeated quietly.
the look in his eyes made the hallway suddenly feel far too narrow.
you opened your mouth instinctively, already prepared to bite something cruel back at him before he could continue, but sohee spoke first, the words coming rougher now.
“you weren’t there,” he said, voice tightening unevenly around the sentence like the memory itself still sat somewhere lodged beneath his ribs.
“you weren’t there when he stopped eating properly for almost a month because every time somebody mentioned your name he looked like he was gonna be sick. you weren’t there when he couldn’t sleep. you weren’t there when he sat on the floor of our apartment crying over you like some fucking idiot because he couldn’t understand why he still wanted you back after everything you did to him.”
the force of it hollowed something briefly out of the air between you. the sharp immediate tightening in your chest at being spoken to like you were some uniquely evil person instead of somebody who had simply done something selfish and messy and human.
you hated the way sohee looked at you when he spoke, like he genuinely believed morality itself sat cleanly on one side of the room with him while you stood on the other dripping rot onto everything you touched.
your chin lifted slightly despite the pressure now building suffocatingly between you both.
“so what?” you answered flatly after a second. “it’s not like you’re the one i cheated on.”
“thank god i’m not sungchan,” he muttered bitterly, eyes dragging slowly across your face with open contempt now. “i’d rather die than let myself get played by the campus communal hole.”
the insult hit low and immediate as heat surged violently through your chest before thought could properly catch up to it. one second there was still space between your bodies, thick with hostility and sharp breathing and unresolved resentment, and the next your fist had twisted violently into the front of his tank top, bunching the black fabric tightly in your hand while you shoved him backward hard enough for his shoulders to collide against the wall behind him with a dull impact.
the movement startled him and you saw it immediately in the brief widening of his eyes before anger swallowed the reaction whole again.
suddenly you were impossibly close. close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body through the thin material crushed between your fingers, close enough to smell alcohol and smoke clinging heavily to his skin beneath the cleaner scent of his cologne, close enough to see the pulse beating sharply beneath the side of his throat while his breathing shifted unevenly.
“go on, use the word you really want to say” you hissed, voice rough now beneath the fury burning through your chest while you jerked him slightly forward off the wall again.
“say it. call me a slut, since you’re suddenly feeling so fucking brave.”
"sohee the great, slutshaming a woman, because of what? because i actually enjoy having sex?because i don't fake purity and virginity for vanilla guys like you?"
sohee stared down at you without blinking, chest rising harder now beneath your hand while tension spread visibly through every line of his body pinned against the wall behind him. the hatred was still there, obvious in the hard set of his jaw and the dark look fixed across his face, but underneath it now sat something far more dangerous than either of you had intended when this conversation first started, something hot and volatile crackling low through the tiny amount of space left separating your bodies.
still, when he finally spoke, the contempt remained intact.
“i don’t need to humour you or your manic ranting.”
“fuck you, sohee,” you spat back instantly, fingers twisting tighter into the front of his shirt until the fabric strained audibly between your fists.
“you know what i actually think? i think you're so busy worrying about everybody else's sex life because you've got absolutely nothing going on in your own.”
the disgust darkened immediately across his face.
“i think you're so miserable watching everybody around you actually enjoy themselves that you've convinced yourself it's some moral failing instead.”
the shove had locked you both into a space so narrow the rest of the party collapses into nothing but distant bass and smeared light. your fist remains twisted in the front of his shirt, knuckles pressed hard to the steady rise of his chest. his back is flat to the wall, shoulders rigid, and the heat trapped between your bodies thickens instantly, humid and suffocating, the summer air itself seeming to clot in the narrow gap that no longer exists. you can feel every shallow, uneven breath he takes, the way his ribs expand against your forearm, the faint tremor that runs through the muscle under your fingers. without meaning to, your fingers tighten, drawing him that last impossible fraction closer, and he shifts against the wall in a small, involuntary adjustment of his hips that registers before either of you can stop it.
the solid weight of his cock presses against your thigh where your skirt has ridden high. it feels immediately wrong, the blunt, insistent pressure dragging slowly along your skin, the dampness of it seeping through the denim in a slow, spreading patch that clings to you. your stomach drops and for one suspended heartbeat your mind goes perfectly still, the alcohol sharpening every detail until the contact feels almost violent in its clarity.
except the sensation refuses to belong to anything happening between you.
the anger is still there. the disgust too. sohee is still looking down at you with the same hostility that had been sitting across his face since the beginning of the conversation, his jaw tight, his breathing uneven from the force of the argument, every line of him still radiating the same contempt that had finally pushed you into shoving him against the wall in the first place. nothing about the moment has changed. nothing about him has changed.
yet the pressure remains.
your attention catches on it despite yourself, lingering there for a second longer than it should, your brain reaching automatically for explanations that make more sense than the one beginning to form at the edge of your thoughts. his phone, maybe. his keys. something caught awkwardly inside the pocket of his jeans. anything other than—
the realisation drags your focus lower before you can stop it. the outline is unmistakable now, stretched tight and heavy against the front of his jeans, the shape of him clearly defined where the fabric pulls. the weight of it is there, the slow, helpless pulse of it pressing into your thigh with every shallow breath he takes.
you’ve spent months making careless, cutting little jokes about him. about how someone so uptight and sexless probably didn’t have much to work with, months spent rolling your eyes whenever somebody mentioned one of his hookups, dismissing them as exaggerations or jokes about how someone like him probably fucked like he argued: stiff, joyless, and underwhelming. you’ve said it to his face in passing remarks, to sungchan when he wasn’t around, even to yourself when his cold stares got under your skin. you’ve been with enough men to know what’s average and what isn’t, and you’d written him off completely.
and now you’re staring, because this doesn’t make sense. the thick, heavy line of him is pressed right there against your thigh, so obviously, undeniably big that for a second your brain refuses to make the connection at all, the shape of it existing separately from the man standing in front of you, like the two things belong to entirely different people.
lee sohee. the same sohee who’s spent months looking at you like you were something filthy he had to tolerate for sungchan’s sake. the same sohee who acts like sex and desire are beneath him. the sheer size of it feels like a private joke the universe decided to play on you at the worst possible moment. your eyes stay there longer than they should, caught between disbelief and something sharper, something you don’t want to name yet.
your tongue drags slowly across your lower lip, breathing shallow and quick as a flush climbs your neck because you can feel how much he is leaking, the warm dampness spreading slowly against your thigh. your pussy gives one involuntary clench, a traitorous little pulse, your gaze lingering on the way another slow throb rolls through him in response, the way his cock twitches helplessly like it has already chosen for him.
sohee feels the exact moment you understand what you are feeling.
his entire frame locks, the muscle along his jaw jumping once, sharp and visible, horror and self-loathing moving openly across his expression as the reality of it settles over him. his eyes widen, then narrow with something raw and sick, his breathing turning ragged in the narrow space between your faces. for one endless second he simply stares at you, the realisation of what has just happened written plainly across his face.
his hands come up fast.
he shoves you back hard enough that you stumble, the sudden loss of his weight leaving your skin cold where it had been pressed. he is breathing like he has been struck, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven drags, cheeks burning dark beneath the dim light. his eyes are wide with something that looks like panic wearing the thin mask of anger.
“stay the fuck away from my friend,” he mutters, voice low and cracked, already turning as though he cannot bear to look at you any longer.
you stand there with your pulse hammering between your legs, the memory of that insistent weight still burning against your thigh. by the time you finally push yourself away from the wall, the memory still hasn't loosened its grip on you, lingering stubbornly beneath your skin in the same way his words had earlier, except infinitely more irritating. because the last thing you wanted was another reason to think about lee sohee, and now he has given you one.
🏷️: @rixieisfreaky | @kingsoowolves | @luckizombi
cooking fr.
i’m having so much fun writing this, i might actually finish this by the end of the month (no jinxing)
cooking up a very delicious enemies to kinda enemies with benefits sohee fic where he high key hates you but his dick doesn’t and the tension is so nasty.
also very aware of the 17 drafts currently collecting dust but this idea came to me an hour ago and i can’t let it go (watch it not be released for months though because i suck at finishing stories on time),
guilty pleasure [vol 2] — l.sh & l.at
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 sub reader, mean dom sohee, mean dom anton, threesome, boyfriend’s best friend, gamer boy sohee, smut
synopsis: the gentle devotion you once clung to like salvation is ripped away in a single breath, and the hunger you tried so desperately to hide is dragged screaming into the light. anton, who once held you like something sacred, now looks at you like something he must destroy before it destroys him completely.. you are caught between the man who wants to save what is left of you and the man who only ever wanted to watch you unravel, and this time there is no quiet return to the dark. this time the ache does not quiet. it only grows louder, hungrier, and more permanent.
WARNINGS: swearing, even more degradation and dirty talk (as if that was even possible), extreme overstimulation (who’s surprised), unprotected sex, multiple rounds, squirting, choking, a lot of manhandling and rough play, face fucking, double penetration, just more filthy sex
a/n: i can't believe it's been over 4 months since i posted something on here. as always life has been crazy but i thought i would treat you guys with a much requested part 2 for this crazy series, as a way of saying thank you <3. also wrote this when i was ovulating so it's lowkey nasty.
read part 1 here
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
the silence that follows anton’s question is a fragile veil, drawn taut over the humid chaos of the room, its threads woven from the faint, erratic beeps of the game ending on sohee’s monitor and the ragged cadence of your own breathing, each inhale a shallow rasp that scrapes against your raw throat like sandpaper on silk. the immediate aftermath clings to you like a second skin, heavy and humid, the air in sohee’s room thick with the sharp, musky tang of release and sweat.
your body slumps against his chest, boneless and trembling, the aftershocks rippling through you in faint, involuntary twitches, your walls fluttering weakly, the persistent throb low in your belly, raw and oversensitive from the relentless stretch. slick still leaks from you in slow, cooling trails, pooling on the ruined leather chair beneath you in dark, spreading stains that soak through to the foam, the wet squelch of it shifting under your weight a humiliating reminder of how completely he’s wrecked you tonight, your thighs quivering with exhaustion, muscles jumping sporadically as if protesting the abuse.
overstimulation lingers like a bruise you can’t shake, every nerve ending lit up and protesting even the slightest brush of air against your flushed skin, your clit pulsing faintly with a dull, insistent ache that shame only sharpens into something sharper, more demanding, the compulsion stirring faintly beneath the fatigue despite your mind screaming for respite. dread coils in your chest alongside it, cold and serpentine, wrapping around the lingering heat until they blur, a morally ambiguous haze where guilt wars with the biological urge that drove you here, the emotional love for anton a gentle tether fraying under the weight of your physical betrayal.
sohee’s smirk is a tangible thing, a slow unfurling you sense in the way his chest vibrates against your back, his breath ghosting hot and teasing over the shell of your ear, carrying the faint, acrid tang of his sweat and the artificial sweetness of whatever gum he’s been chewing between matches. he doesn’t withdraw immediately, instead indulging in a few more shallow thrusts, languid rolls of his hips that drag the blunt head of his cock through your oversensitive folds, each glide a spark against raw nerves that sends tremors rippling outward from your core, your clit pulsing faintly against the coarse friction of his pubic hair.
the wet, obscene sounds fill the space, soft squelches that echo in your ears like whispers of your own depravity, and you feel every inch of him, the vein along his shaft throbbing in time with your erratic pulse, a reminder of how deeply he’s embedded, how completely he’s claimed the parts of you that anton’s gentleness could never reach.
“you’re finally getting what you want,” he murmurs, his voice a low, velvet rumble that vibrates through your ear canal, tickling the fine hairs there and sending involuntary shivers cascading down your neck, raising goosebumps in their wake.
his hand, still splayed possessively over your lower stomach, presses firmer, forcing you to confront the obscene bulge where he fills you, a firm ridge beneath your skin that shifts with each breath, a living testament to your addiction, the physical need that eclipses emotional love in these stolen moments, leaving guilt to fester like a wound that never heals.
you’re too spent to muster more than a faint, breathless hum, your body a boneless weight slumped against him, limbs heavy as lead, muscles aching from the earlier convulsions, your mind adrift in the foggy aftermath where thoughts fragment into sensations. the dull throb between your legs, the sticky residue coating your inner thighs, the faint metallic taste of blood where you’ve bitten your lip raw. exhaustion pulls at you like gravity, but beneath it, the compulsion stirs faintly, a whisper of that persistent arousal syndrome that haunts your waking hours, implying through bodily twitches what your rational mind denies.
he chuckles then, a dark, resonant sound that rumbles through his chest into yours, stirring the embers of desire despite your fatigue, his amusement a cruel balm over the shame that pricks at your skin like needles.
“greedy girl finally gets to be stuffed by two dicks in one night. i bet you’re enjoying this.”
you shake your head no, the motion violent and desperate, your tangled hair whipping across your face in wild strands that stick to your damp cheeks. a vehement denial rooted in the shreds of loyalty clinging to your heart, the emotional tether to anton, a soft, patient love built on whispered promises and gentle touches, fraying under the onslaught of this physical betrayal. where dominance eclipses gentleness, and shame amplifies arousal into something voracious.
but your body, ever the traitor, contradicts you: a deep, involuntary clench of your walls around his cock, a subtle pulse that milks him unconsciously, revealing the subconscious thrill anticipating anton’s arrival, that forbidden corner where desire thrives on exposure and validation, where the fear of consequences only heightens the biological impulse, turning morality into a blurred shadow.
sohee senses it immediately, his smirk sharpening into something predatory, and with one final, lazy grind that grinds his hips against yours, he pulls out slowly, the drag of his cock leaving you excruciatingly empty, your cunt fluttering weakly around the void. slick gushes in a warm rush that trickles down your thighs, pooling on the chair in copious amounts, the scent rising sharp and intimate, a humiliating confession etched in fluid. he eases you down onto the gaming chair with a casual indifference, your body slumping into the worn leather, thighs quivering uncontrollably as the cum leaks out in slow, viscous strands, mingling with sweat to create a slick film that cools against your skin, raising chills that dance up your spine.
your makeup is a ruined canvas, mascara smudged into dark halos under your eyes, lipstick smeared across your chin like a hasty afterthought, your dress hiked up to your waist, exposing the flushed, marked skin of your core. your hair was a messy tangle from sohee’s habitual grip, fistfuls pulled taut during thrusts that arched your back and tore cries from your throat, a thin sheen of sweat glazing your body, catching the light in a deceptive glow that masks the wreckage beneath.
he saunters from the room without a backward glance, his footsteps a lazy echo down the hallway toward the kitchen, leaving you alone in the oppressive gloom. the mechanical hum of the computer fans fills the silence, a steady drone that amplifies the quiet, making it thicker, more oppressive, your heartbeat pounding in your ears like a drum signaling an impending storm, each thump echoing the dread building in your chest.
fear surges then, coiling around your ribs and squeezing until your breaths come short and labored, triggered by the echo of anton’s tone through the headset. that unfamiliar steel, a quiet dominance laced with hurt, a far cry from the soft-spoken affection you’re accustomed to, the shift unnerving in its intensity, making your skin prickle with anticipation that’s equal parts dread and unwelcome thrill. you’ve never heard him wield his voice like that, a blade honed by betrayal, and now your mind races through scenarios.
will he come, storming through the door with rage in his eyes, or won’t he, leaving you to stew in this limbo of guilt and need?
you rehearse apologies in the fractured mirror of your thoughts:
it was a mistake, i’m so sorry, i love you, anton, please believe me.
clinging to a veneer of innocence, the emotional intimacy you share with him a lifeline amid the storm, yet the words ring hollow even in your head, undermined by the compulsion that drives you here night after night. the unfulfilled ache that anton’s gentleness can’t quench, his tender laps and laced fingers a soft rain against the wildfire of your needs. guilt twists deeper, a vine choking the breath from your lungs, yet it only sharpens the sensory haze.
you try to steady yourself, drawing deep breaths that catch on the edges of panic, convincing your trembling limbs that freshening up is the path to salvation, that you can wash away the evidence with soap and water, smooth the tangles from your hair, tug the dress down over your marked skin, pretend this was a fleeting nightmare, a deviation from the love that defines you.
but in this suspended moment, a desperate wish flickers for sohee to help, to shed his smug detachment and offer some semblance of support, a hand to steady you or a word to ease the knot in your stomach, as he reenters the room with a glass of water clutched in his fist, condensation beading on the surface like tiny accusations. of course nothing for you, his eyes alight with that cruel amusement as he takes in your pathetic struggle—legs wobbling like a newborn fawn’s as you push up from the chair, hands gripping the armrests for leverage, the leather slick and unforgiving under your palms, sending you slipping back once, twice, before you find precarious balance.
he chuckles, the sound low and mocking, slicing through the tension like a serrated edge, cooing in faux sympathy as he reaches out to pat your head, fingers tangling briefly in the messy strands with a condescending gentleness that makes your skin crawl and your core clench in forbidden response.
“fucked you so dumb you can’t even walk now?” his voice drips with venomous delight, the words a barbed hook that lodges in your self-esteem, pulling at the threads until they unravel, shame flooding hot and prickling across your chest, yet inexplicably stirring the embers of arousal, your nipples peaking against the fabric as if the degradation is just another form of foreplay.
“can’t wait to see what your boyfriend thinks when he sees i’ve got you walking like bambi. maybe that will get him to grow some balls and fuck you like a real man. you’re welcome by the way.”
the taunt lands like a slap, your stomach twisting in a vise of dread and unwelcome heat, the moral conflict sharpening. how can you feign normalcy when your legs quiver like this, weak and unsteady, the evidence of your ruin leaking in slow trails down your skin, cooling to a sticky reminder that clings like guilt itself? sohee’s casual cruelty only amplifies the panic, his laughter a dark melody that echoes in your ears, heightening the sensory overload until the room feels too small, the air too thick, the anticipation of anton’s arrival a gathering storm that presses down on your chest, heavy and inescapable.
eventually, his amusement ebbs, fading into a territorial glint as he scoops you up with effortless strength, hiking you over his shoulder despite your feeble protests consisting of weak slaps against his back that lack conviction, your voice a muffled whine swallowed by the fabric of his shirt. the world inverting in a dizzying spin, the floor receding as he carries you to the bathroom like a trophy claimed in battle, the jostle of each step sending jolts through your core, rekindling the ache with every bounce.
he sets you down on the counter, the cool marble a shocking contrast against your heated skin, biting into your thighs like ice on fire, before putting you down and turning you to face the mirror with firm hands, one clamping onto your head to force your gaze forward, the other resting possessively on your hip, his body a cage behind yours, solid and unyielding.
“you see that? see how much of a slut you are? how ruined you got by your boyfriend’s best friend’s cock?”
the reflection assaults you, a vivid portrait of devastation under the harsh fluorescent light. eyes glassy with a haze of tears and lingering subspace, mascara tracked in dark rivers down your cheeks like warpaint from a lost battle, lips swollen and bruised from bites and kisses, parted on shallow breaths that fog the glass faintly, neck a canvas of blooming hickeys, purple and red like violent blossoms pressed into your skin, the dress a wrinkled ruin clinging to your sweat-slick curves, hem rucked up to expose the flushed, marked expanse of your thighs and core.
shame crashes over you in waves, hot and suffocating, your body trembling under his grip as emotional realism pierces through. the love for anton a tender bruise in your chest, clashing with the raw fulfillment sohee provides.
“i did that to you. i made you this way.”
you shake your head, a desperate bid to deny the truth staring back, trying to avert your eyes from the wreckage, but he won’t allow it, his body pressing closer, caging you against the counter, his erection rubbing insistently against your ass through the thin barrier of his sweatpants, a hard, insistent reminder of the power he wields, the dynamic that thrills and terrifies in equal measure. he snakes two fingers around to your pussy, the touch deliberate and invasive, rubbing two slow, deliberate circles around your clit that ignite your oversensitive nerves like fireworks in a storm, the sensation a lightning bolt through your fried synapses, your head snapping back against his shoulder with a shattered moan, pussy twitching and clenching in helpless spasms, fresh slick coating his digits in a warm glaze despite the exhaustion dragging at your limbs like chains.
he withdraws them leisurely, holding them up to your lips in the mirror’s reflection, glistening with your release, the scent sharp and intimate rising to mingle with the faint bleach tang of the bathroom, a heady cocktail that makes your head spin.
“open up. can’t have your boyfriend seeing you look so filthy.”
he taps your lips with the soiled fingers, insistent yet patient, your eyes hazy and unfocused as you comply, parting your mouth with a soft, obedient sigh, sucking on them with a mindless rhythm born from the compulsion, the taste of yourself—salty, tangy, laced with his skin—a forbidden elixir that swirls on your tongue.
he coos in your ear, the words a degrading caress, “good slut”, that sends shivers racing down your spine, your core clenching around nothing, the praise a twisted validation that heightens the moral ambiguity, making desire feel involuntary, complicated by the emotional love waiting just beyond the door.
he lets you suck for a lingering while, the act almost meditative, the suckle of your lips around his fingers a rhythmic pull that echoes the earlier thrusts, before pulling them away with a wet pop, only to dip them back into your folds for more, repeating the cycle in a slow, torturous loop that imprints the degradation deeper, each iteration a reminder of your surrender.
it’s so wrong, this suspended intimacy with anton en route, the knowledge a weight in your chest that should spur you to stop, to scramble for words of apology, to reclaim some shred of agency, yet here you are, lost in the sensory vortex, a mix of your cum and his skin swirling on your tongue like a sacrament of sin, the flavor embedding itself in your memory.
“good fucking girl. always listening to instructions.”
the spell shatters with the banging on the door, loud but measured, not frantic. a deliberate summons that reverberates through the apartment like thunder in a bottle, freezing your blood in your veins as panic surges, body locking rigid, heart slamming against your ribs in wild, erratic bursts that drown out everything else.
you know it’s him, the certainty a cold blade twisting in your gut, the anticipation boiling over into terror that makes your hands shake uncontrollably.
sohee’s smugness peaks, a competitive gleam in his eyes as he presses a few lingering kisses to your neck, lips grazing the fresh hickeys where they bloom like dark secrets under your skin, the touch sending unwelcome sparks racing down your spine, rekindling the ache even as panic claws at your throat. then he saunters to the door, unhurried, his posture a lazy swagger that speaks of entertainment found in chaos.
your fingers fumble with tissues to wipe at the makeup smudges, dabbing frantically at the leftover cum streaking your thighs, flattening your hair in hasty pats that do little to tame the chaos, pulling down your dress with trembling tugs that snag on damp skin. but fear renders you clumsy, the toilet roll tumbling from the holder with a clatter that echoes too loudly, the soap bar slipping from your grasp to skitter across the tile like a fleeing animal, all because your heart pounds in your chest like a war drum, hands quaking with adrenaline, legs wobbly not just from the overstimulation but from the dread heightening every sense. the cool tile under your feet a grounding chill, the fluorescent light buzzing overhead like an accusatory hum, the air thick with the mingled scents of sex and cleanser, turning the bathroom into a confessional you can’t escape.
you stagger from the bathroom into the bedroom on unsteady legs, perching on the edge of sohee’s bed where the sheets still bear the imprint of your body, damp and rumpled, clinging to your thighs like a guilty embrace.
the temperature plunges the instant anton’s presence registers beyond the threshold, a metaphorical frost that seeps through the walls, raising goosebumps along your arms and making you shiver as if winter has invaded the room. the quiet whir of sohee’s gaming system remains a persistent undertone that amplifies your labored breaths, each one a visible puff in the chilled air, chest heaving with the effort to contain the storm within.
you can’t meet his eyes at first, gaze fixed on the floor where shadows pool like spilled ink, but you glimpse the fury in his stance. it’s the first time you’ve seen him unraveled like this, the soft contours of his face hardened into sharp lines, jaw clenched so tight the muscle ticks visibly, eyes cold as glacial depths, brows furrowed in a thunderous scowl that darkens his expression, transforming the boy who would cradle you in sleep into a figure of restrained rage.
he halts abruptly, his gaze raking over you in a searing, methodical sweep that feels like flames licking at your skin as he approaches you: the dried tears crystalline on your cheeks like fragile salt trails, the flushed hue of your skin glowing with a feverish sheen under the dim light, rosy lips swollen and parted on gasps that betray your turmoil. your heels still strapped to your feet, scuffed from frantic scrambles across the floor, your dress barely concealing your body, clinging to every curve with the tenacity of a lover’s grasp, slick with sweat and release that darkens the fabric in telltale patches.
he scoffs, the sound low and bitter, slicing through the silence like a whip crack, his head shaking in slow disbelief, as if the sight of you is a punch to the gut, expected yet gut-wrenching, a visual echo of the betrayal broadcast moments ago.
his hand darts out, fingers clamping around your chin with a bruising force that draws a hiss from your lips, pain blooming sharp and immediate across your jaw, radiating outward like ripples in disturbed water, his grip unyielding, thumb digging into the soft underside until fresh tears well up, blurring the room into a watery haze. terror grips you for the first time, genuine and bone-deep, the affectionate boy evaporated into this cold, furious stranger whose touch is a brand, possessive and punishing, arousal intertwined with reclamation in a way that makes your core throb despite the fear.
he leans in close, studying the minutiae of your ruin up close: the mascara etched into purplish bruises under your eyes, the bite marks flowering on your neck like illicit tattoos, lips puffy from sohee’s demanding kisses, your dress now a stained relic, heels bearing the scuffs of desperation. the air between you thickens with his scent, clean cologne undercut by the faint salt of anger-induced sweat, a stark contrast to the raw musk clinging to you, the proximity amplifying the emotional heavy dominance radiating from him, pressing down like a storm cloud.
“seeing as you came wearing the dress i bought you last week,” he says, his voice a steady murmur, calm on the surface but laced with venom that seeps into your veins, raising goosebumps along your arms as the words wrap around you like chains, “this wasn’t some mistake. you got all pretty in something i paid for… to come here and get whored out?”
his tongue prods the inside of his cheek, a tic of restrained fury, jaw clenching tighter, the seriousness in his eyes a brewing tempest that accelerates your heart to a frantic gallop, fear and twisted anticipation blending until you can taste them on your tongue.
“i’m s—” you begin, the apology a tremulous whisper, born from the guilt that gnaws at your insides like a starving beast.
“don’t you dare fucking apologise,” he interrupts, thumb pressing harder into your jaw until the pain sharpens your vision, tears spilling hot and silent down your cheeks.
“you let him fuck you for months behind my back and think sorry fixes it?”
his gaze shifts to sohee, venom pure and undiluted flashing in the cold blue, the triangular tension igniting like a spark on dry tinder, silent accusations hanging heavy as both men stake their claims over your trembling form.
“what kind of friend are you?”
sohee shrugs against the wall, arms crossed in casual defiance, his smirk a widening crease that gleams with amusement, his energy provocative, taunting, detached from morality as he revels in the power play, viewing anton’s intrusion as prime entertainment, a chance to assert his psychological edge.
“not my fault your girlfriend came crying to me every week, begging for my cock. she needed it. i just gave her what you couldn’t.”
anton’s hold on your chin constricts for a split second, a pulse of rage that radiates through his fingers, then releases as he pivots to face sohee fully, his voice plummeting to an icy timbre that chills the room further.
“shut the fuck up.”
sohee’s smirk holds firm, eyes alight with glee at anton’s unraveling, the once-sweet friend now a vortex of betrayal and fury, the competition a delicious undercurrent that sharpens his territorial instincts.
anton turns back to you, his eyes scouring your quaking body once more, a dark resolve crystallizing in their depths, the hurt morphing into a fierce need to reclaim, to demonstrate his capability through controlled dominance. the betrayal simmers in anton’s veins like poison, a toxic brew of hurt and rage that twists his usual tenderness into something unrecognizable, a shadow self he’s always kept leashed during your intimate moments, the soft kisses, the careful caresses, the whispered i love yous that wrapped your encounters in gentle care. but you’ve pushed him beyond that now, shattered the illusion with your deceit, and he no longer cares about leading with love; the pain demands punishment, a rough, physical reckoning that channels his anger into every brutal motion.
“get on the bed,” he commands, voice hushed yet authoritative, the prelude to a tempest. “on all fours.”
you comply in a scramble, legs faltering beneath you, crawling onto the mattress with knees that buckle like brittle twigs, the bed yielding under your weight, sheets damp and cool against your palms, clinging to your skin as you assume the position. ass elevated, face buried in the fabric, the vulnerability a exposed nerve that thrums with fear and expectancy, shame intensifying the arousal until your clit pulses faintly, body yielding involuntarily to his command.
anton advances, the atmosphere thickening with his aura, hands coarse as they seize your hips, maneuvering you into the position he wants with a vigor that elicits a gasp, the mattress creaking under his knees as he aligns behind you. now grabbing your hips with a harshness that digs his fingers into your flesh, nails biting deep enough to draw crescent moons of blood to the surface, the sting a sharp prelude that makes you gasp, your body already oversensitive from sohee’s earlier ravages, nerves frayed and screaming.
for the first time in your shared history, anton doesn't do foreplay. no tender traces along your folds, no murmured endearments against your nape; your arousal from sohee’s providing more than enough lubrication, a glistening invitation. he’s learned the hard way that none of that was what you craved, not the gentle buildup but the raw force, the manhandling that treats you like something to be used, broken, remade in the fire of his fury.
he slams into you in one savage stroke, his longer cock, sleeker than sohee’s thickness but reaching depths that nudge your cervix with punishing accuracy, forcing a choked cry from your throat as he bottoms out, the stretch a burning invasion that steals your breath, your walls clenching in futile protest around the intrusion, slick from before but not enough to dull the edge of pain that blooms into a dark, addictive pleasure.
the thrusts come fast and relentless, his swimmer’s stamina turning him into an unyielding machine, hips snapping forward with a speed and power that jolts the bedframe, the headboard thumping against the wall in a rhythmic accusation that echoes through the room, the creak of wood straining under the force mingling with the wet squelch of your juices as he drives in, each plunge forcing out a fresh gush of slick that coats his shaft and drips down your thighs in warm, sticky trails.
"o-oh… g-god…"
your body lurches ahead with each viscous impact, breasts spilling fully from your dress in heavy bounces that scrape your nipples against the damp sheets, the friction a torturous tease amid the chaos, the noises you make high-pitched whimpers that fracture into sharp gasps, air forced from your lungs in ragged bursts, anton’s low groans rumbling from his chest like thunder, raw and animalistic, a sound you’ve never heard from him before, laced with the grit of his anger.
the sleek sounds from sohee’s direction add to the symphony. the faint, wet glide of his hand stroking his cock in lazy pulls, the soft schlick of skin on skin as he watches, his breaths coming in measured huffs, amusement coloring his voice in occasional low chuckles that cut through the haze, fueling anton’s rage further.
the build-up is brutal, a slow-growing pressure in your lower stomach that starts as a faint tightness, coiling tighter with every deep thrust, the length of him hitting so deep it feels like he’s pressing against your insides from the wrong side. the sensation grows and grows, a relentless tide that makes your thighs quiver, muscles tensing in anticipation, your moans turning longer, more drawn-out as the pleasure mounts, half pulling you closer to him with desperate rolls of your hips, half trying to push away as the intensity borders on too much, tears pricking your eyes from the overwhelming fullness.
you never imagined this transformation, the soft boy you knew morphing into a storm of fury, his usual tenderness evaporated into something raw and punishing, the speed of his thrusts verging on brutality, the merciless rhythm battering your core like waves crashing against jagged rock, body shuddering against the tangled sheets as you reach a hand back toward his stomach, fingers trembling in a futile plea to slow the pace.
he catches your wrist in an instant, using his strength to twist your arm behind you, his other hand knotting in your hair, pulling until your scalp burns like fire under his grip, neck craned back, ear pressed to his mouth as he growls, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, words laced with pain and command that send a fresh flood slickening around him.
“move that fucking hand. you want to act like a slut, you’ll get fucked like one.”
“a-an-anton fuck,” you babble, tears blurring your vision, words spilling in shattered fragments, your voice a quivering sob that only spurs him on.
you try again to get him to slow down, the words bubbling up in a desperate whine, “p-please, too-too fast”, used to his gentleness, the way he’d always ease you into it with tender kisses and careful touches, but all he sees in his mind’s eye are flashes of sohee fucking you.
the images sear like brands on his retinas, fueling the anger until it boils over, his thrusts turning sharper, deeper, hips snapping forward with a punishing rhythm that rattles the bedframe harder, the creak turning into a groan of protest from the wood. your head spins, thoughts fragmenting into sensation alone, fucked so good you can’t form words, just releases of air in high-pitched whimpers and sharp gasps that fill the room like broken music, your cunt clenching around him in helpless spasms, the squelching louder now, obscene and wet as slick gushes with every withdrawal, coating your thighs and the sheets in a messy sheen that catches the rgb lights in glistening reflections.
anton’s voice breaks through the haze, degrading you for the first time, grit roughening the usually soft timbre, turning it into something gravelly and mean that sends a forbidden thrill racing between your legs.
“so fucking wet,” he growls, one hand leaving your hip to slap your ass with a crack that echoes, the sting blooming hot and immediate, making you arch despite yourself, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat as the pain twists into pleasure.
“sohee fucked you good, didn’t he? bet you were a good little whore for him.”
you can’t answer, can’t do anything but whine, the words dissolving on your tongue as another thrust punches the air from your lungs, tears spilling over as shame and arousal entwine, your body betraying you with fresh slick that eases his brutal pace. the pressure in your lower stomach builds slowly, a coiling tension that grows with every deep plunge, starting as a faint warmth and swelling into a heavy fullness that makes your breaths come shorter, your moans turning into drawn-out pleas as it mounts higher, your thighs quivering harder, muscles tensing and releasing in frantic waves.
"sh-shit… deep…"
he drags you up roughly then, one arm banding around your waist like iron, pulling you back until your spine is flush against his chest, the heat of him searing through your dress, his breath hot and ragged against your ear, the squelch of your juices louder in this position, each thrust forcing out a wet gush that trickles down his balls in warm streams.
“look at sohee,” he snarls, fingers tangling in your hair to yank your head toward the chair, forcing your gaze to meet sohee’s amused eyes, the vulnerability a exposed wire sparking fear and desire in equal measure, his strokes on his cock turning slower, more deliberate, the sleek sound of precum slicking his length a taunting accompaniment.
“tell him how much of a slut you are.”
you try, but the words fracture into small babbles and whines, your mind a fractured mosaic from the relentless pounding, each thrust grinding him deeper, the angle hitting that spot inside that makes stars burst behind your eyelids, tears gathering at your lashes as overstimulation continues to build. your cunt flutters wildly around him, the pressure growing heavier in your lower stomach, a tight knot that winds tighter with every snap of his hips, your moans turning into long, keening sounds that fill the room, mingling with anton’s low groans and the creak of the bed straining under the force.
it makes anton angrier, the betrayal fueling the fire, and his free hand cracks across your face in a harsh slap, the sting blooming sharp and immediate across your cheek, forcing another moan from your lips, the pain twisting inexplicably into pleasure, slick dripping in fresh waves that make the squelching even louder, obscene and unrelenting.
“do…as…i… fucking… say,” he punctuates each word with a deep thrust, hips slamming forward so viciously it jars your bones, the length of him driving impossibly deeper, nudging your cervix with a pressure that builds the coil tighter.
you moan and writhe in his hold, the sensation growing from a heavy fullness to an urgent, burning need that makes your thighs quiver harder, your breaths coming in short, ragged pants, the build-up brutal, seconds stretching as the tension mounts higher, your lower stomach cramping with the intensity, half pulling you closer with desperate clenches, half trying to push away as it teeters on the edge of too much.
“tell sohee how much of a slut you are. say it out loud,” he repeats.
“i-i— fuck. a-an-t-ton plea—fuck,” you gasp, the words tumbling out in broken fragments, your voice a trembling thread barely holding together against the onslaught, the pressure swelling further, a hot, insistent knot that makes your hips roll involuntarily, chasing the release even as it terrifies you in its intensity.
“stop fucking sniveling and acting like a little bitch. let my best friend know that you’re nothing but a slut. a slut that cheats on their boyfriend just for some dick.”
“i-i’m a-a sl— fuck anton so deep.”
“i’m a-a slu-slut," you try again.
“can’t hear you, say it louder.”
he makes you repeat it, yanking your hair harder, thrusts digging deeper, leaving bruises on your hips where his fingers press like vice grips, squelches mingling with skin slapping skin, your high-pitched moans fracturing into sobs, anton’s groans turning rougher, more guttural as he loses himself in the rhythm. it's paired with sohee’s lazy strokes, his dick leaking precum in glistening beads that he spreads with his palm, the sleek sounds adding to the auditory chaos, the sight pushing you closer to the edge. the pressure in your lower stomach grows heavier, a coiling tension that starts low and spreads upward, making your thighs quiver uncontrollably, muscles tensing in waves as the orgasm approaches like a distant storm building on the horizon, each thrust adding to the fire until it’s a blazing inferno, your breaths turning into short, desperate gasps, tears streaming as the knot tightens to breaking point.
anton feels it, your walls clamping down in frantic pulses, and he yanks your head back further, exposing your throat, literring kisses up your throat as he fucks you through the cresting wave that continues to build.
“anton, fuck i’m—“
the climax crashes over you in violent surges that leave you shaking, your body convulsing as slick gushes out in hot, rhythmic spurts, squirting around his cock in messy arcs that soak the sheets and his thighs, your thighs quivering so hard they cramp.
a high, keening moan tears from your throat that echoes off the walls, half-scream, half-sob, your hips bucking wildly against him, half pulling closer to chase the blinding pleasure, half trying to push away from the overwhelming intensity that borders on pain. anton pushes through it all with relentless thrusts, his groans low and satisfied as he feels you shatter around him, but he doesn’t stop.
even as the overstimulation turns the pleasure into a stinging ache, nerves screaming for mercy, your whines turning into babbled pleas.
“anton, too much, please.”
your body twitches uncontrollably, cunt spasming in helpless waves around his length, fresh tears spilling as the pressure builds again almost immediately, the compulsion overriding exhaustion, shame fueling the fire until you’re grinding back despite the burn, your moans continuing to rise in pitch.
"c-can-can't… t-take…"
eventually, his voice cuts through the haze, rough and commanding, “come over and shut her up”, beckoning sohee with a jerk of his chin, the invitation a bridge into deeper degradation, jealousy transforming into reluctant synergy. sohee approaches the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, his energy provocative and taunting as he kneels in front of you, dick hard and curving toward his stomach, precum smeared along the length in shiny trails, leaking in fresh beads that glisten.
you’re forced to take him, anton’s thrusts pushing you forward onto sohee’s cock, the intrusion immediate and filthy, his hands fisting your hair to guide you deeper, using your mouth like a sleeve in the best, most depraved way. saliva spilling from the corners of your lips in messy strings that drip down your chin, pooling on the sheets, your throat convulsing around him as he hits the back with each shove, gagging you until tears stream freely, mascara running in black rivers that stain your cheeks. the taste is salty, musky, mixed with the faint tang of your earlier release still clinging to him, his hips snapping forward to fuck your face with a rhythm that matches anton’s.
bubbles of spit form at the base of his cock where your lips seal around him, dripping down his balls in frothy trails that he smears back up with his thumb, pushing it into your mouth alongside his dick for a moment, making you suck harder, your whines making him push deeper.
“that’s it, choke on it baby,” the nastiness is a sensory overload, your nose buried in the coarse hair at his base with each deep thrust, inhaling the sharp scent of his arousal, anton’s hands roaming your body, possessive even in his anger. the triangular tension is a power struggle where you’re the prize, trembling between fear and desire.
the build-up starts again, brutal under the dual assault, the pressure in your lower stomach returning as anton’s thrusts hit deep, the length of him grinding against that spot with every plunge, sohee’s cock filling your mouth in rhythmic pushes that make saliva drool down your chin in steady streams, the squelching from your cunt louder now, mingled with the wet glucks from your throat. your moans are muffled around sohee’s thickness, attempting to say something to anton—pleas for mercy or more, you can’t tell—but coming out as garbled vibrations that make sohee groan low in his chest, his hips stuttering as the sensation travels through him.
your body shakes with the effort to hold it back, but anton drives deeper, harder, his voice a growl in your ear.
“you’re a filthy cockdrunk whore. this feels good doesn’t it?” driving impossibly deeper into you, the pressure exploding in a blinding release that has you quivering and shaking, mouth barely able to form words around sohee but he doesn’t care, pushing further as you try to babble a semblance of a coherent response.
“n-need to—“
you can’t take it, quivering and shaking, mouth barely able to form words, his thrusts digging deeper with each word, the squelch turning into a wet, relentless symphony as slick gushes anew, your thighs slick and trembling, minutes of relentless pounding making your moans turn into long, drawn-out wails.
“c-cumming-“
your body convulses in violent waves, a high-pitched moan vibrating around sohee’s cock as slick squirts in hot spurts, soaking anton’s thighs and the sheets again, your walls spasming in frantic milking waves that drag a groan from anton’s chest.
your body slumps onto the mattress, limbs heavy as lead, every muscle quivering with the aftershocks of overuse, your inner thighs slick and sticky with a mixture of cum and your own arousal that cools against your skin in uncomfortable patches, raising goosebumps that mingle exhaustion with the persistent, dull throb low in your belly, raw and protesting yet still greedy, the compulsion a relentless whisper beneath the fatigue despite your mind begging for mercy.
but he still doesn’t stop, pushing through the sensitivity even as you thrash and writhe. each thrust rolling his pelvis against you so the base of his cock grinds directly over your clit, the coarse hair there adding a rough friction that’s unbearable after the shattering orgasm you’ve already endured, the sensation a lightning bolt through your oversensitive nerves, making your hips jerk forward involuntarily even as you whimper, the wet, filthy squelch of him moving inside you filling the room louder than before.
“still think sohee’s dick is better princess? still think it’s good enough to cheat on me with?”
you can’t speak, can’t breathe, can only choke and drool and whimper around the length filling your mouth, your body shaking between them like a ragdoll, skin flushed hot and slick with sweat that beads and drips.
sohee laughs again, dark and pleased, and reaches around to find your clit with two fingers, rubbing messy, firm circles that make your hips jerk forward involuntarily, the friction a lightning strike through your oversensitive nerves, pushing you deeper onto anton’s cock.
“she can’t even talk,” he taunts, pinching your clit lightly between his knuckles until you keen around anton’s shaf.
“too full of cock to form words. pathetic.”
sohee pulls out of your mouth with a wet, obscene pop, strings of saliva and precum stretching between your swollen lips and the flushed head of his cock before snapping, dripping in thick, glistening trails down your chin to splatter onto your heaving chest. your throat burns, raw from the relentless fucking it took, every swallow tasting of salt and musk and the faint metallic edge of your own tears. you gasp for air in shallow, ragged pulls, chest rising and falling too fast, the room spinning at the edges from how lightheaded you’ve become.
anton is still buried inside you, hips rolling in slow, punishing circles that keep you stretched and aching, every subtle shift grinding the long length of him against that bruised, oversensitive front wall until your cunt flutters weakly around him again, a helpless little spasm that draws a low, satisfied growl from deep in his chest. his fingers stay knotted viciously in your hair, yanking your head back harder, forcing your eyes to the ceiling while your body jerks between them like meat on a spit. the betrayal is still pouring off him in waves. you can feel it in the brutal grip, in the way his cock twitches angrily inside your ruined hole every time he remembers what you let sohee do to you behind his back.
sohee wipes the slick mess from your lower lip with the pad of his thumb, smearing it across your cheek like war paint, then leans down until his mouth is level with your ear.
“greedy little whore,” he breathes, voice thick with cruel amusement, teeth grazing the shell of your ear before he bites down just hard enough to make you flinch. “bet you’re already thinking about how full you would feel with both of us wrecking that sloppy cunt.”
the words hit anton like a blade dragged across raw bone. you felt the exact second something inside him snapped and then reforged itself into something colder, sharper, more deliberate. his arms tightened around your waist until the bruises deepened, his breath stalled against your neck, and when he exhaled again it carried no heat, only the quiet, terrifying weight of a decision that had already been made.
he did not want this. that was the first truth clawing at him. some broken, still-loving part of him wanted to pull out, to shove sohee away, to gather what was left of you against his chest and pretend none of this had happened. but that part was drowning now, suffocating beneath the flood of images he could not unhear — your voice moaning sohee’s name through the discord call, the way your body had opened so easily for his best friend while anton had been gentle with you for months, believing it was enough. the betrayal was not just that you had fucked someone else, it was that you had chosen the very roughness he had always held back, the very intensity he had thought you didn’t need. you had thrown away everything gentle and real between you for this. for filth. for sohee.
so if filth was what you wanted, then he would give it to you. not out of generosity, not out of lust. out of pure, vengeful grief. he would make the destruction match the crime exactly. he would force you to take the thing you had betrayed him for in the most complete, most humiliating way possible, while he was still inside you, while he still controlled it. he would make sure the memory of this night lived permanently inside your body like a scar, so that every time your cunt ached for roughness in the future, the only thing you would feel was this moment — his cock and his best friend’s cock stretching you open together, the sick wet sound of it, the way he had looked you in the eyes while he did it. he would ruin you so thoroughly that you could never again separate the pleasure you had chased from the man you had destroyed to get it.
anton’s grip tightens in your hair until your scalp stings, a sharp hiss of possession escaping him as he suddenly yanks you and spins your limp body around like you weigh nothing. your knees sink into the rumpled sheets as he tugs you down hard onto his lap, his back braced against the headboard, legs spread wide so your thighs are forced open obscenely over his.
he reaches back over your shoulder without a word, his hand wrapping around sohee’s throbbing cock in a rough, possessive stroke. he milks a thick bead of precum from the tip, smearing the warm, sticky fluid over your already dripping folds and around the place where his own cock is. the filthy sound of the wet, obscene squelching as he coats both their cocks and your ruined hole fills the room while he stares sohee dead in the eyes.
“since you love my sloppy seconds,” anton spits, voice low and venomous, cracking with raw hurt and fury.
sohee let out a dark, lazy laugh that vibrated against your ear. “fuck yeah i do,” he drawled, eyes flicking up to meet anton’s over your shoulder.
the air between them thickened instantly, heavy and electric, two dominant stares locked hard, something raw and territorial passing between them, charged with the kind of heat that had nothing to do with you for that single suspended second. sohee’s smirk deepened, slow and filthy, while anton’s jaw flexed, his fingers still wrapped tight around sohee’s throbbing cock, stroking it once more in a deliberate, possessive glide that made the tension crackle even hotter.
anton’s arms clamp around your waist like iron bands, fingers digging bruises into your skin as he forces your soaked pussy down onto his cock in one brutal drop, burying himself to the hilt with a wet slap that makes fresh cum and slick squirt out around the base and run down his balls in sticky rivers. your thighs spread wide and trembling over his lap, calves already shaking from the strain.
sohee moves without being told, his thick cock dragging hot and heavy along the curve of your ass, smearing precum across your skin in glossy streaks while his hands grip your hips hard enough to leave marks that match anton’s. you’re trapped between them now, body pinned and spread wide, cunt already stretched obscenely around anton’s length while sohee’s fat head nudges right up against your entrance alongside it, the blunt pressure already threatening to tear you open before he's even pushed inside.
the burning stretch hits as your pussy is forced wider, the rim yielding with a hot sting. you feel them slide against each other inside you, slick and rigid, rubbing together through your thin walls and pulling deep groans from both men.
once sohee sinks deeper the heavy splitting ache settles deep in your pelvis, your walls stretched paper-thin around two thick shafts, every vein and ridge dragging against you at once. the pressure is constant and blunt, making your breath come in short, ragged gasps.
“f-full…”
your body shakes violently between them, thighs trembling, sweat and cum dripping down your skin in messy trails, every breath shallow and desperate as the room seems to hold its breath for the moment.
the sensation keeps building in slow relentless layers, your walls fluttering and clenching around the constant rub of two cocks sharing the same overstretched hole, cream leaking out in thick messy pulses that coat their shafts. you are drenched, sweat pouring down your back and between your breasts, your whole body slick and shining while your consciousness starts to slip further at the edges, the room softening into a hazy blur around the edges of your tear-filled eyes as the overstimulation begins to coil tighter and tighter like a wire pulled taut across your nerves.
anton stares up at your face, eyes dark with months of betrayal boiling over into something feral and broken. his voice comes out rough and ugly for the first time ever, laced with pure venom that cuts deeper than any thrust.
“look at you, cocksleeve. been letting my best friend use this sloppy cunt for months behind my back and now you’re creaming on both of us like a desperate cum rag.”
he doesn’t soften the words. he snaps his hips up harder instead, driving both cocks deeper through the fluttering spasms that are already starting to ripple through you, fingers bruising your waist as he forces you to feel every inch of their shared claim while your head falls forward against his shoulder and a broken whimper slips out, “no—too deep—ahh—”
“cry harder, you pathetic cum whore.”
sohee's mouth finds your shoulder again, lips brushing the already bruised skin before he sucks hard, teeth grazing, leaving another dark bloom that throbs in time with your heartbeat. his kisses trail up the side of your neck. wet, open-mouthed, possessive, each one pulling a weak, shuddering sound from your throat.
"bet you're happy, princess," he murmurs against your ear, voice low and mocking, breath hot and damp. "you get the best of both worlds after sneaking around like a little whore."
his hips slam forward again, driving his thicker cock in deep alongside anton’s, stretching you wider with every punishing thrust while your body jolts and another weak overwhelmed sound tears from your throat.
they keep fucking you like that for long dragging minutes that feel like hours, rough and uncoordinated, the wet sounds of your creaming cunt growing louder and sloppier while your muscles locked and released in violent, uncontrollable spasms that rippled through your entire body. the ache deep inside keeps twisting and tightening, waves of heat rolling through your core in slow overlapping surges that make your breath hitch and your nails dig harder into anton’s shoulders, your body clenching around them in helpless fluttering pulses. yet they never slow, never give you a single moment to catch your breath, just keep grinding and slamming through every helpless contraction until the pleasure blurs into something deeper and more overwhelming and your sanity starts to fray at the edges like threads pulled loose from a tapestry already torn apart.
"s-sl-slow….please…slow d-down…“
in the tight enclosed space between bodies your hand snakes out on its own, trembling and weak, palm pressing against anton’s waist in a pathetic attempt to push him back, to create even an inch of relief from how impossibly deep they both are, how every thrust feels like they are splitting you open and flooding you with too much pleasure at once. your fingers twitch helplessly against his skin, every muscle seizing in violent little spasms as the brutal stretch and constant friction of two cocks sliding against each other through your thin walls turns your insides into liquid fire. the pressure is so deep and unrelenting it steals the air from your lungs, forcing out nothing but broken, overwhelmed whimpers while hot tears spill down your cheeks, blurring the world until all you can see is shifting colors and the sharp outline of anton’s face above you.
anton’s eyes flash with fresh rage. he grabs your wrist in one bruising grip and shoves your hand away like it is nothing.
“fucking take it,” he snarls, voice low and vicious, “and move that fucking hand before i tie it up for you.”
he drives his hips up harder, forcing both cocks even deeper, the brutal snap making your walls stretch tighter around them and sending fresh waves of unbearable pleasure crashing through you, so intense your vision flickers white at the edges and your thighs jerk violently against his lap while you sob out another broken string of words.
d-d-de-deep," is all you can manage, the word fracturing on your tongue, barely a whisper, hoarse and broken. your lungs feel crushed, every inhale shallow and stuttering, the weight of them both pressing inward from front and back stealing the space your diaphragm needs.
sohee laughs right in your ear, the sound dark and mocking as he cages you in tighter from behind, his chest pressed flush to your back so there is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from the relentless double stretch.
“what happened to the slut that came to see me tonight?” he taunts, breath hot and wet against your skin.
“the one begging to be fucked like a desperate little whore? look at you now, twitching and trying to push him away when you’re finally getting exactly what you deserve, split open on both our cocks like the greedy bitch you are.”
his thrusts grow meaner, slamming in deep and holding for a second before pulling back, letting you feel the full drag of both of them sliding against each other inside you while your body keeps creaming nonstop, messy and loud, the overstimulation turning sharp and stinging at the edges while the pleasure underneath only grows heavier and more consuming, your limbs feeling heavier, weaker, barely able to do anything except tremble and take.
you can barely hold yourself up anymore, limbs limp and shaking, only their iron grips and the way they keep pounding into you keeping your body from collapsing completely while your consciousness slips further, vision swimming as your mouth stays open on soft broken sounds that barely form words anymore, “t-too much… ah—ahh—f-fuck…” and “f-full… s-so f-f—” over and over like a prayer you cannot stop whispering even as the relentless double stretch keeps forcing you wider, forcing you to take more even though your body is already spent and trembling and trying to pull away on instinct with every weak twitch of muscle.
minutes stretch into what feels like an eternity of punishing rhythm, their cocks rubbing together inside your overstretched cunt with every clash of their hips, the friction so constant and raw that it sends sparks shooting through every oversensitive nerve until your walls flutter continuously around them, clenching and releasing in helpless little spasms that milk them both. every movement sends fresh sparks through your clit and deeper inside, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your core until your entire body trembles between them, pinned and owned and slowly coming apart in long shuddering waves that refuse to end. the ache has turned into something thick and pulsing and almost unbearable, your breath coming in short desperate gasps against anton’s shoulder while more tears slip down your face and your mind drifts further into that hazy broken place where nothing exists except the overwhelming fullness and the way they refuse to let you escape it, the way every thrust drags you deeper into the storm of pleasure and pain and shame that has swallowed you whole.
anton’s stare never softens, his hands bruising your waist as he thrusts up harder, voice cracking with raw possession and rage.
“that’s it baby. squeeze both our cocks like the cheating little cocksleeve you are. you don’t get to tap out now after months of making me look like an idiot” the degradation spills out of him raw, every word dripping with the pain of months of lies, and it only makes your walls clamp down tighter, your body answering with another long rolling wave of spasms that leaves you whimpering.
sohee tightens his fist in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to growl against your ear, the words sinking into you like teeth.
“that's right princess. you’re taking two cocks in that greedy little cunt because you couldn’t keep your legs closed. pathetic. crying and twitching like you didn’t beg for this all those nights you snuck out to ride me instead.”
sohee's hand slides around to your clit , fingers circling with rough precision, the touch too much on nerves already raw and screaming. the pressure builds fast, swelling knot low in your belly that tightens with every grind, every deep plunge, the fullness so absolute you feel it behind your eyes, in your throat, in the tips of your fingers. another orgasm crashes through you without warning, violent and merciless, your cunt clamping down so hard around them both that they groan in unison, the contraction forcing out a hot gush of squirt that soaks their thighs and the sheets beneath you.
anton kisses you, desperate, messy, all clashing teeth and saliva, his tongue pushing into your mouth like he's trying to claim the last piece of you that hasn't been taken. sohee's mouth moves to the other side of your neck, sucking another bruise into the skin just below your ear, his thrusts turning sharper, more forceful, driving so deep you feel the shape of him pressed against your lower belly from the inside. the overstimulation is brutal now, pleasure long since curdled into pain, every nerve screaming, your body shaking so hard your teeth chatter, breath coming in short, panicked gasps between kisses.
"t-too much," you manage, the words slurring into a sob, barely coherent. "d-deep—'s too—"
sohee laughs softly against your neck, the sound vibrating through you, and snaps his hips forward harder, forcing both of them deeper at once. the stretch becomes unbearable, a burning, tearing fullness that steals every thought, every breath, your walls spasming so violently they push against the intrusion, trying to force them out even as your body betrays you with another gush of slick.
the pressure coils tighter and tighter in your core after what feels like endless minutes of being used without mercy, your walls fluttering continuously, breath coming in short desperate gasps against anton’s shoulder while your body instinctively tries to pull away again with another weak twitch of muscle that only earns you another bruising snap of anton’s hips.
the heat under your skin builds into something feverish, every inch of you burning as if the air itself has grown too thick to breathe, your eyes rolling back until the room dissolves into streaks of light and shadow. you writhe helplessly between them, trapped so completely that every twist of your hips meets only the solid wall of their bodies, no escape, no mercy.
when your release finally tears through you it unfolds in violent rolling waves that start deep in your belly and crash outward without warning, your cunt clamping down brutally hard around both shafts, spasming so intensely that a massive gush of squirt erupts from your overstretched pussy. the force is so strong it physically pushes both cocks out of you in one wet obscene rush, your holes fluttering and gaping in the sudden emptiness as heavy pulses of release soak anton’s thighs and the sheets below.
your body collapses forward, completely boneless, face pressing hard into anton’s chest while the aftershocks tear through you in trembling waves that leave you barely conscious, eyes heavy and fluttering, the world reduced to the frantic thud of his heartbeat against your cheek and the faint, broken chant that slips from your lips again and again, barely loud enough to be heard, “n-n-no m-more pl-please… n-n-no m-more pl-please…” the words dissolving into soft, exhausted sobs as your strength fails you, your mind drifting in and out of awareness.
the room grew quieter, still, the only sounds your shared breathing and the faint wet sounds as your body continued to leak slowly onto the sheets, the overstimulation fading into a deep bone weary satisfaction. anton stays buried inside you for one long, final second, his cock still twitching against your fluttering walls as though some last stubborn part of him cannot bear to release you. his arms remain locked around your waist, holding your limp frame against him like something he once loved and can no longer bear to touch. you feel the frantic hammer of his heartbeat against your breasts, the hot, uneven rush of his breath on your neck, the faint tremor in his muscles that tells you the rage has finally burned itself out and left only ash behind.
he pulls out of you with deliberate slowness, the wet, obscene sound of it echoing in the quiet room as another thick rush of cum leaks from your stretched, aching cunt and drips onto his thigh. you whimper at the sudden emptiness, your body still twitching with aftershocks, but he offered no comfort. he simply lifted your weightless frame off him and laid you down on the ruined sheets as though you were something fragile and repulsive at the same time, something that had once been precious and was now only evidence of ruin. his eyes moved over you in a slow, unhurried sweep: the black rivers of mascara dried on your cheeks, the purple blooms of bite marks across your shoulders, the dark handprints bruised into your hips, the way your legs remained parted and trembling, cum still leaking steadily from your swollen folds onto the mattress in slow, glistening drops. then his gaze lifted past you to sohee, still kneeling on the sheets, cock hard and glistening, that familiar smug curl beginning to form at the corner of his mouth.
sohee opened his mouth, the first cocky syllable already shaping itself, but anton silenced him with nothing more than a flat, empty look. no words passed between them. the silence stretched, thick and suffocating, broken only by the ragged, shallow sound of your own breathing. the rgb lights continued their slow, indifferent shift across the walls, painting everything in shifting hues of blue and violet and red, but none of it touched the cold that had settled in the space between the three of you.
anton stood up without hurry. he wiped himself clean with one of sohee’s discarded shirts, the motion mechanical and distant, as if his hands were performing a task his mind had already left behind. he pulled his clothes back on piece by piece — boxers, jeans, hoodie — each rustle of fabric loud in the quiet, each small movement precise and final. you felt the weight of your own body then, impossibly heavy, limbs useless and trembling, your mind floating somewhere just above the mattress in a hazy grey fog where the compulsion had finally gone quiet and left only the hollow ache of what remained.
still you tried. your arms shook as you pushed yourself up, barely managing to lift your upper body from the damp sheets. your voice came out hoarse and cracked, little more than a broken whisper as you reached one weak hand toward him.
“anton… please…”
he paused at the edge of the bed, back still half-turned, and for a moment the room seemed to hold its breath with you. then he turned, and whatever fragile thing you were holding onto collapses instantly. because the look on his face isn’t anger, isn’t even the kind of hurt you could beg forgiveness from, it’s something stripped raw and exposed, something that looks at you like you’ve undone him in a way that can’t be fixed. the softness that used to live in his eyes is gone, completely gone, replaced with something sharp and unguarded, something that doesn’t try to hide the way his gaze flicks over you, your body, the marks, the damp sheen of everything that still clings to your skin, and recoils, subtle but unmistakable, like the sight of you makes something inside him turn.
for a second, just a second, his eyes shine. it’s quick, almost invisible, but it’s there, a flicker of something wet and breaking, something that looks like it hurts, like this is hurting him in a way he doesn’t know how to hold. and then it’s gone, swallowed down, replaced with something colder, something that steadies him.
“anton i lov—”
“don’t,” the word cuts clean through you, sharp and immediate, his voice rough, stripped of anything soft, like it’s been dragged out of him and left jagged at the edges evidence of the quiet devastation that had taken root in his bones.
“you fucking disgust me. i don't want to see you again.”
it lands slowly, not all at once, but in pieces, each word pressing into you deeper than the last, forcing you to feel it properly, fully, until there’s no space left to misinterpret, no way to soften what he means. it’s not just this moment, it’s everything behind it. everything you let build quietly, everything you hid, everything you took from him while he was still giving you something real. the nights he held you without asking for anything back, the way his hands used to move over you like you were something to be careful with, the way he looked at you like you were worth loving . all of it folds in on itself, twisting into something unbearable now that you know what you were doing at the same time, who you were letting touch you, how easily you let it continue.
something in your chest gives under the weight of it.
the feeling isn’t sharp, not at first. it’s heavy, suffocating, like something thick and cold pouring into you, filling you up until there’s no room left to breathe properly, your lungs working against it, each inhale shallow and strained. your eyes burn, sting with the pressure of tears that won’t fall, like even your body knows there’s no relief in that now, no release that would make any of this smaller.
anton turned away again. his footsteps fell quiet across the floorboards, each soft creak of wood slicing through the room like the last breath of something dying, the only sound left in a world that had suddenly gone still and cold. you watched the line of his shoulders, tense and unyielding, the familiar curve of his back that you had once traced with loving fingers in the dark, the way his hand reached for the doorknob with the same steady certainty he had once used to pull you close at night, to hold you like you were the only thing that mattered. he did not look back, not once. not even a flicker of hesitation, not a single glance over his shoulder to the broken, leaking mess he was leaving behind on the sheets.
the door clicked shut behind him without a slam or a shout. nothing dramatic or loud enough to match the violence that had just torn through all three of you. just a soft, final sound, small and ordinary, yet it landed in your chest like a blade driven slow and deep, twisting until the pain bloomed hot and endless. the silence that followed was worse than anything that had come before it, thick and endless and complete, it wrapped around you like a shroud, pressing down on your ribs until every shallow breath felt like drowning in the cold, grey waters of your own ruin, filling your lungs with the bitter taste of everything you had destroyed.
sohee shifts from his position on the bed, the movement unhurried, almost absent-minded, his body stretching loose again. the space he leaves behind cools too quickly, the heat of him disappearing from your skin in a way that feels abrupt, unfinished, like something has been taken and not replaced.
he drags a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his damp forehead, fingers catching slightly in the mess of it before falling away, and for a moment he just sits there, shoulders rolling once, settling back into himself, back into something familiar and unaffected. his gaze flicks toward you briefly, not lingering, not searching, just a quick, passing look like he’s checking something off rather than really seeing you.
“clean up. you know where the bathroom is,” he says, voice even, casual, stripped of anything that might resemble care, like it’s an afterthought more than anything else, like it doesn’t matter whether you go or stay or fall apart right there in front of him.
without sparing your limp, leaking body even a second glance his body turns away from you completely as he moves back toward his desk, dropping into the chair with an ease that feels practiced, automatic, the soft creak of it filling the space. the glow of the monitor catches his face again, washing it in that familiar, artificial light, flattening everything, making him look the same as he always does.
focused, distant, untouched.
his hand settles on the mouse, fingers flexing once before clicking, the sound sharp in the quiet, followed by the low hum of the game loading back in, pulling his headset over his ears without a second thought. whatever this was, whatever just happened in this room, folds in on itself and disappears for him almost instantly, reduced to something small, something forgettable.
you lay there, twitching faintly, skin sticky and cooling, the taste of both of them still thick on your tongue, the deep, constant ache between your legs refusing to fade. tears slipped silently from the corners of your eyes, mixing with the drying mascara and spit on your cheeks, but you made no sound. the compulsion that had screamed inside you for months was finally quiet, exhausted, sated for the first time. and in its place was only the slow, crushing weight of what you had done.
anton was gone. the one person who had loved you gently, who had truly seen you, who had tried with everything he had to keep you safe and whole. you had destroyed it all, not in secret anymore, not in stolen afternoons or whispered late-night texts, but right in front of him, with his best friend’s cock buried deep inside you alongside his own, the three of you tangled together in the filth you had created. the shame no longer burned hot and sharp. it simply sat there now, heavy and grey and endless, pressing down on your chest until every breath felt like drowning in the slow, merciless ruin you had chosen.
this was your guilty pleasure, you understood at last, in the crushing silence that followed. not the heat, not the roughness, not even the filthy fullness of two cocks tearing you apart. it was the slow, merciless ruin that followed, the kind that hollowed you out from the inside and left nothing but aching emptiness behind. you were tethered to this hunger by invisible threads, frayed and worn yet unbreakable, and the harder you pulled against them, the tighter they bound you, until you were suffocating beneath the crushing weight of your own betrayal.
even as the quiet click of the door echoed through the room like a final farewell, taking anton away forever, even as sorrow swallowed you whole and left you trembling and leaking in another man’s bed, a sick and terrible part of you already knew the truth. you would do it all again. you would burn down every beautiful thing in your life, again and again, just to taste that same poisonous pleasure. it was this realization, bitter and vile on your tongue, that finally broke what remained of your soul.
decay — p.wb
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 abusive ex wonbin, ex girlfriend fem reader, toxic relationship, obsession, dark romance
synopsis: you were never meant to belong to someone like wonbin but he decided you did anyway. not gently, not kindly, but with the quiet, terrifying certainty of a man who has already built your life around himself long before you realize it is happening. he watches you the way people watch something precious they refuse to lose, patient and relentless, learning the fragile patterns of your days until nothing you do exists outside of his reach. but love like his is never meant to be soft. it is control wrapped in affection, obsession disguised as protection, a slow tightening grip that closes around your life piece by piece until the people you once knew begin to disappear and the freedom you once had begins to feel like something you imagined. and by the time you finally understand the truth, that this was never devotion, never salvation, never the kind of love that was meant to keep you safe, you are already too deep inside him to know where you end and he begins. loving wonbin was never going to save you. it was always going to ruin you.
WARNINGS: extremely obsessive behaviour, brief depictions of physical violence, toxic relationship dynamics, stalking, manipulation, possessive language, emotional abuse, references to violence, psychological dependency, controlling behavior, dark themes throughout, wonbin being the abusive shitty ex boyfriend you can’t seem to let go of.
a/n: lately i’ve been obsessed with the song and could not get an eater by matt martians out of my head while writing this. this story is not meant to romanticise or present toxic or abusive relationships as something aspirational. it’s an exploration of a very dark and unhealthy dynamic, the kind that blurs the line between obsession and love until neither can exist without the other. loosely inspired by the one boy i tried so hard to let go of, and by the haunting atmosphere of the ending bridge of shades of cool by lana del rey.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
the evening rain battered relentlessly against the thin glass of your street-facing windows, each droplet striking the pane with the restless insistence of fingernails scraping for entry, until the outside world dissolved into a blurred watercolor of streetlights bleeding across slick pavement and shadows pooling thickly in the corners of the empty road. beyond the glass the storm swallowed every familiar detail of the neighborhood, bending the light and distorting the quiet street into something unrecognizable, while inside your small house the air remained unnervingly still, stagnant in a way that felt wrong, heavy with the damp scent of old wood and the lingering warmth of someone who had only just left. the space had never seemed large, but tonight it felt suffocatingly intimate, the walls pressing inward with quiet patience. the house had always been too open, too exposed, a fragile shell of thin walls and narrow rooms where every sound traveled too easily and every shadow lingered just a little too long.
for the past hour the curtains had stayed drawn, thick fabric pulled tight across the windows as if cloth alone could preserve the fragile illusion of safety you had been clinging to ever since sungchan had stepped out into the rain with that apologetic half-smile still lingering on his lips. you had watched the taillights of his car dissolve into the downpour, waited until the sound of the engine disappeared entirely before locking the door behind him, telling yourself you would give it a few minutes before opening the curtains again. just a few minutes. long enough for the street to return to the quiet anonymity it had always held before tonight, long enough to convince yourself that whatever uneasy tension had crept into your chest when he left was nothing more than nerves.
but the minutes stretched into something heavier than expected, the silence settling too thickly inside the house, until the absence of sound began to feel unnatural. you stood there for a while with your hand hovering near the curtain, staring at the dark folds of fabric while the storm outside continued to hammer at the windows, and it was only when the weight of your own thoughts became unbearable that you finally drew the cloth aside.
you felt it before you saw anything.
the sensation arrived slowly at first, a faint prickle along the nape of your neck that crept downward with cold, deliberate fingers until it settled somewhere deep between your shoulder blades, that bone-deep awareness your body had learned to recognize long before your mind could name it. there was a particular weight to being watched by him, something heavier than ordinary attention, something that sank beneath your skin and rooted itself in the marrow of your spine, and the moment it touched you the air in the room seemed to tighten. the quiet stretched thin, the hum of the storm outside suddenly distant and muffled beneath the growing pressure inside your chest, because some primitive part of your instincts had already reached the conclusion your thoughts were still trying desperately to avoid. you stood there for a moment longer than necessary, your breathing shallow and uneven, your eyes tracing the rain-streaked window without quite daring to focus beyond the glass, as though the simple act of confirming what you already knew would somehow make it more real.
but the longer you waited the heavier that unseen gaze became, pressing through the pane with suffocating certainty, until the fragile illusion of safety collapsed under the weight of it and your eyes lifted toward the streetlight outside.
wonbin stood beneath the trembling halo of pale yellow light, drenched so thoroughly by the storm that the rain seemed to have soaked straight through to the marrow of him. dark raven strands clung to the sharp angles of his face in damp, curling lines, plastered against the smooth warmth of his honey-toned skin like ink bleeding slowly across parchment, framing the delicate constellation of moles scattered across his cheeks and jaw in a way that felt almost indecent in its beauty. water slid lazily along the curve of his temple and down the slope of his nose before collecting at the edge of his lips, and he caught the droplet with a slow parting of those soft pink lips before biting down on the lower one with deliberate patience, his gaze never leaving you for even the smallest fraction of a second. through the distorted veil of rain and glass his pupils looked impossibly wide, dark wells with no visible bottom, and the intensity of that stare stretched across the distance between you like something tangible, something invasive and endless that drained the oxygen from the room despite the ten feet of rain-slick pavement separating you.
there was something deeply wrong in the way he watched you. it was not simply anger or longing or even jealousy, but something colder and far more consuming, a quiet certainty of ownership that lived beneath the surface of his expression like rot beneath polished marble. the pane of glass between you felt suddenly fragile, absurdly thin in the face of the relentless focus of his gaze, because he did not look like a man observing from outside. he looked like a man patiently waiting for something that already belonged to him.
then his smile began to form.
it spread slowly across his mouth like the blooming of a bruise beneath skin, dark and deliberate and far too knowing, the kind of smile that had once made strangers turn their heads in admiration while it made your stomach twist violently with the sick familiarity of what lay behind it. it was a beautiful smile, unmistakably so, the kind that softened the sharp edges of his features and lit his face with an almost angelic warmth, yet the longer it lingered the more something about it felt wrong, stretched just slightly too wide and held just a little too long. because beneath the soaked elegance of his appearance, beneath the effortless magnetism that clung to him even while rainwater streamed down his face and darkened the fabric of his clothes, lurked the suffocating truth you had spent so long trying to outrun.
the man who had never once allowed you the simple mercy of breathing without his presence shadowing the air around you, his obsession tightening invisibly with every passing second like a living noose drawn slowly around your throat, each imagined rival another brutal tug on the rope, each moment you existed beyond his reach another offense he would eventually correct. there was something monstrous in the patience of it, in the meticulous way his darkness spread through your life like rot working its way through the beams of a house long before the collapse became visible. because loving him had never meant devotion in the ordinary sense of the word. it meant ownership, surveillance, the quiet understanding that every fragment of your freedom existed only until he decided it did not.
it was the kind of obsession that crept out beneath the cover of night with a blade in hand and the calm focus of a man performing necessary maintenance, slashing through the rubber of your tires while the street lay silent around him. where the morning would arrive with the cruel, quiet realization that the world outside your driveway had suddenly become unreachable. it was the kind that treated other men not as rivals but as intrusions to be removed, leaving behind the sickening aftermath of shattered faces and broken bodies gasping helplessly on rain-slick pavement, their features reduced to swollen ruin beneath fists that struck with the cold certainty of someone convinced he was merely restoring order.
but the true horror of him had never lived in those visible eruptions of violence; it lived in the quiet architecture of control he had built around you piece by piece, the slow invasion of every space you had once believed belonged only to you. cameras hidden in the shadowed corners of your own home, their glass eyes silently drinking in the small, private moments of your life without your knowledge, watching you move from room to room beneath the illusion of safety while somewhere miles away his phone glowed softly with the evidence of your existence. doors that had always been locked suddenly meant nothing when he carried a key you never knew had been copied, slipping inside while you slept so he could stand in the dim silence of your bedroom and watch the rise and fall of your breathing, studying your face with the reverent stillness of someone admiring a possession they refused to risk losing.
and then there were your shoes, the small, almost invisible cruelty of that detail revealing just how far the sickness inside him had spread. tiny airtags hidden deep within the soles of every pair you owned so that each step you took pulsed quietly across the screen of his phone like the rhythm of a second heartbeat, your movements mapped out in perfect, obedient lines across the city as though your body itself had become an extension of his will.
because that was the truth of loving someone like him, the slow, suffocating realization that you had never simply been part of his life. you had become the center of it, the fixed point around which everything else revolved, and the deeper the obsession rooted itself inside him the clearer it became that the world itself had begun to shrink, narrowing gradually until the distance between you and him was the only space left that mattered.
you tried to tear your gaze away from the window, to drag the curtain closed and bury the street behind a wall of fabric and denial, to convince yourself that the empty stretch of pavement outside held nothing but rain and darkness and the distant glow of streetlamps dissolving into the wet asphalt. yet your body betrayed you in the same way it always did when it came to him, locking you in place with a terrible, instinctive stillness, as though some deeper part of your mind already understood the futility of pretending he was not there. outside, the rain cascaded relentlessly down his frame, sluicing along the sharp lines of his shoulders and soaking through the thin fabric of his shirt until it clung to him like a second skin, outlining the rigid tension coiled through his body, the same dangerous power that had pinned you beneath him so many times before, that terrifying strength that lived quietly beneath his calm exterior until something inside him snapped.
and still he did not move. the downpour hammered against the pavement and plastered dark strands of hair against his face, but he stood there unmoving, unmoved, as though the storm itself had been summoned merely to frame him more dramatically against the night. his stare never wavered, never softened, the intensity of it cutting through the glass between you with suffocating clarity, and there was something profoundly wrong in the way he watched you, something that went beyond jealousy or anger and settled somewhere deeper, somewhere feral. the possessive hunger radiating from him seemed almost physical, thick enough that you could nearly taste the metallic edge of it at the back of your throat, that sharp tang of danger that had long ago become inseparable from the sound of his voice, the weight of his hands, the terrible certainty that once his attention fixed itself on something it never truly let go.
there were moments now when it felt as though something inside his mind had begun to rot slowly from the inside out, the decay seeping through the careful mask of composure he once wore so easily. you saw it in the faint tremor that sometimes passed through his hands when he thought you were not looking, in the way his smile stretched just a little too wide and lingered a little too long, like a crack spreading across porcelain that had been dropped too many times. whatever fragile thread of reason had once anchored him to the ordinary world seemed to have snapped months ago, leaving behind something hollowed out and darker in its place, something that did not simply love you but fed on the fear flickering across your face, something that thrived on the knowledge that your heartbeat still responded to him even when every rational instinct told you to run.
because the most terrifying truth was that he owned you even from out there, even standing motionless in the rain with water dripping from his hair and pooling at his feet. the distance between you meant nothing to him; it never had. he had always spoken about it with that quiet, chilling certainty, promising that he would follow you to the ends of the earth if he had to, drag you back from any calm shore or safe harbor you tried to build without him, because no one else could possibly understand what you were, what you needed, what only he could give. the thought sent a traitorous shiver sliding through your body, the sensation as shameful as it was undeniable, because beneath the terror there lived another truth you hated yourself for recognizing.
the intensity of him was intoxicating in a way that stability could never replicate, the violent collision of fear and desire igniting something reckless in your blood, something that pulsed hotter the closer he came to losing control. calm affection, gentle devotion, the steady rhythm of ordinary love had always felt strangely hollow beside it, colorless and distant compared to the way he made every nerve in your body scream to life. because loving wonbin had never been safe or quiet or sane, but it was vivid, explosive, impossible to ignore, and even as you stood there trembling beneath his unblinking gaze, some treacherous part of you still chased the dizzying high of it, the dangerous electricity of a man whose darkness had learned exactly how to set your world on fire.
then he was moving. crossing the pavement in three liquid strides, his boots splashing through puddles without care. his fist rose to pound against your door.
once.
twice.
three times.
each impact vibrated through the thin wood straight into your ribs until the sound became indistinguishable from the thunder of your own pulse.
and then the countdown began, his voice carving through the rain like a blade drawn slowly across exposed bone, the sound of it slipping beneath the door and crawling through the cramped air of the room until it settled in your chest like something alive, something patient, something that had already decided how this night would end long before you ever reached the safety of the lock.
“ten.”
the first collision of his entire body slamming into the door detonated through the house with such brutal force that the frame convulsed violently against your palms as you pressed your trembling weight against it, the wood vibrating beneath your skin like a living thing in agony while the shock of it travelled straight through your ribs and into your spine, leaving you with the horrifying sensation that you were no longer holding a door closed but bracing yourself against the full, unstoppable gravity of him. the monstrous certainty of a man who had never once accepted the idea that anything in the world could be denied to him.
“nine.”
another savage impact exploded against the barrier, harder this time, the sound of splintering wood cracking somewhere above your head as thin fractures spiderwebbed across the surface beneath your hands. and with it came the sickening awareness that the door was beginning to give in the same slow, inevitable way your mind had learned to give, because there was something about the rhythm of his violence, the patient way he delivered it in measured blows, that made resistance feel less like survival and more like a temporary inconvenience he would eventually correct.
“you know what happens when i get down to one and this door is still closed, baby.”
his voice slid through the narrow seams of the wood like damp air leaking into a sealed coffin, thick with that same velvet softness that had fooled so many people before, that calm, charming tone he wore like a mask in public while the truth of him lived here, outside the door, soaked in rain and breathing slowly between each number as if he were savoring the moment, savoring the fragile illusion of safety you had tried so desperately to build between yourself and the reality waiting on the other side.
“eight.”
another crash followed, bone-jarring and violent enough to shake dust from the ceiling, and the tiny room around you seemed to shrink with it, the air growing stale and heavy as paranoia began to crawl along the edges of your vision, because you couldn’t conjure up an escape plan, couldn’t think of an exit. and suddenly every inch of the house felt contaminated with the quiet certainty of him, the lingering knowledge that even when he wasn’t standing in front of you he was always somewhere nearby, watching, listening, waiting with the kind of endless patience that turned every attempt at escape into a delayed surrender.
“seven. six.”
each number fell slowly now, deliberate, punctuated by another brutal collision that sent the hinges rattling and the wood groaning like bone under pressure, until it began to feel as though the door itself were absorbing the violence meant for you, trembling helplessly under the weight of his determination while the sound of it filled your mind with memories you had spent months trying to bury.
the night you had run for the back door, the slick pavement beneath your bare feet, the desperate pounding of your fists against a neighbor’s porch while rain streamed down your face like something close to hope.
“five.”
the memory twisted violently in your mind because you could still see the way his expression had changed the moment the door opened. the sudden warmth blooming across his face as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and laughed softly, apologizing for your behavior with the gentle patience of someone handling a fragile, unstable thing, telling them you had been under so much stress lately, that sometimes you just got confused, just got frightened. the humiliation of that moment had burned almost as deeply as the pain that came after, the moment the door closed behind you and the sweetness vanished from his voice like a mask slipping back into place.
“four.”
another impact slammed into the door with enough force to bow the wood inward, the frame whining in protest as if the house itself were begging you to stop pretending this was something that could be held back forever, because the truth had always been simple, brutally simple, in the way all nightmares eventually are: there was nowhere you could run that he could not reach, nowhere you could hide that he could not eventually find.
“three.”
the next crash splintered the wood with a sharp, splintering crack that echoed through the room like a gunshot, and your hands trembled violently against the lock, the cold metal slick beneath your fingers as your lungs struggled to draw breath against the suffocating pressure building in your chest, because terror had stopped being a feeling and become something physical, something with weight and shape and teeth, curling itself around your ribs and squeezing tighter with every passing second.
“two.”
the number slipped through the door with horrifying calm, and suddenly your body understood something your mind had been too afraid to name. because running would not end this, fighting would not end this, hiding would only delay the inevitable moment when he would find you again with that same gentle smile and those same patient hands, explaining to whoever happened to be watching that you were confused, frightened, unstable, before guiding you back into the quiet privacy of your own home where the truth of him could exist freely again.
so even though every nerve in your body screamed to flee, every instinct clawing desperately for some impossible escape from the suffocating gravity of him, your shaking fingers finally closed around the handle, twisting the lock with a slow, trembling motion before pulling the door open just enough for the rain-drenched silhouette on the other side to step forward as the word two finished leaving his lips. the cold wet night rushed in, carrying him with it. his scent of rain and cologne and something sharper, like the copper tang of old bruises.
his hand shot through the gap before you could slam it shut, fingers wrapping around your throat with bruising familiarity, not enough to cut off air yet, but enough to remind you who held the leash. his voice was low and velvet-smooth, dripping with that manipulative honey that always masked the venom.
“i saw him leave.”
the words slipped into your ear like a blade wrapped in silk, soft enough that for a moment they almost sounded gentle, even as cold rainwater dripped steadily from his lashes onto your cheek. his smirk widened slowly as he watched your expression fracture, that same cruelly beautiful curve of his lips blooming across his face like a bruise spreading beneath pale skin. his free hand lifted with deceptive tenderness, fingertips grazing the line of your jaw in a slow, almost affectionate gesture that would have looked loving to anyone else. you knew those fingers too well, knew the quiet violence hidden inside them, the same hands that had painted purple galaxies across your skin on so many nights you had tried desperately to forget.
“you think you can hide from me, baby?” he murmured, his voice dropping lower as he leaned closer, the damp ends of his raven-dark hair brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. the touch sent an involuntary shiver down your spine despite the dread tightening inside your chest, because even now your body reacted to him with that same traitorous familiarity, the muscle memory of a hundred nights tangled together in ways that had long since blurred the line between tenderness and fear. his pupils swallowed the streetlight behind you as he studied your face, dark and endless, devouring every flicker of your panic.
“you’re mine. every inch. every thought. every pathetic attempt at freedom belongs to me.”
the sentence curled around your mind like barbed wire, tightening with every second you remained standing there beneath his gaze, because the terrifying thing was not the anger in his voice but the calm conviction underneath it. he believed what he was saying with absolute sincerity, the same belief that had followed you through every blocked number, every new lock installed on your doors, every whispered conversation with friends where you insisted this time it was really over. he had stood in the rain for hours just to watch the silhouette of another man leave your door, patient as a predator crouched in tall grass, waiting for the exact moment his prey would look up and realize it had never truly escaped.
“are you crazy? stop fucking stalking me,” the words tore from your throat, raw and jagged, scraping against the pressure of his palm. the accusation seemed to settle into the air between you like a live wire, humming faintly with danger the moment it left your mouth.
yet even as they left your lips, you felt the traitorous heat bloom low in your belly. the helpless rush of adrenaline and arousal that came only from him. only from the toxic gravity of his presence. the way his beauty and his brutality twisted together into something you could not quit. no matter how many times he had shoved you against walls, or screamed until your ears rang, or manipulated your tears into admissions of love that were never love at all.
his hand was still resting lightly along your jaw, his thumb grazing the edge of your skin in slow circles that might have looked tender to someone watching from a distance, yet the muscles beneath his fingers had gone strangely rigid, the subtle tension gathering there with a quiet inevitability you recognized far too well. you had spent months learning the language of his moods, memorizing the tiny shifts that preceded his anger the way sailors study the first tremors of a storm, and the moment you felt that stiffness in his grip a cold awareness slid through your chest.
but you forced the words out anyway, because the fragile defiance pushing them forward felt like the last piece of yourself you still owned.
“we’re done,” you said, your voice trembling despite the anger sharpening it. “i broke up with you last month. you don’t get to do this anymore.”
the smile on his face did not vanish immediately, which somehow made the silence worse. instead it lingered there in a slow, unnatural way, the corners of his lips twitching faintly as though the muscles themselves were confused by the sentence they had just heard. you watched the expression begin to falter piece by piece, the charming curve stretching wider for half a second before collapsing into something far more unsettling.
his brows drew together first, a slow knitting of confusion passing across his features like a shadow moving through water. the look might have seemed almost thoughtful to someone who did not know him, yet you recognized it for what it truly was—the first crack spreading across the carefully constructed illusion that had always lived inside his mind.
the smile twitched again. this time it did not come back.
his jaw tightened slowly, the muscle jumping beneath the smooth line of his cheekbone as the tension climbed upward through his face, draining the last traces of warmth from his expression. the beauty that had once made strangers stare now hardened into something sharper and colder, the symmetry of his features turning predatory in a way that made your stomach twist violently.
“done,” he repeated.
his grip tightened then, vicious and unrelenting, squeezing until stars exploded behind your eyelids and your vision blurred at the edges, your lungs burning as you scratched at his wrists with desperate nails, thrashing in his arms like a trapped animal while he watched your struggle with those black voids for eyes, drinking in every gasp, every tear, every second of your lightheaded surrender. his other fist slammed into your ribs with a sickening crack that sent white-hot agony blooming through your chest, the kind of blow that spoke of a man who had long crossed the line into something irredeemably cruel, sickly drawing soft circles on the stricken flesh as if to soothe you.
he released you only when the strength drained abruptly from your legs and your knees threatened to fold beneath you, your balance collapsing under the violent rush of oxygen returning to your lungs. the moment your body faltered he seized the opportunity with brutal efficiency, shoving you backward with such savage force that your spine collided with the wall behind you in a jarring impact that rattled through your skull, the brittle plaster cracking faintly where the back of your head struck it while his other hand lashed out behind him to slam the door shut with a final, echoing bang that sealed the room like a coffin lid sliding into place.
the sound reverberated through the cramped space with horrifying finality, the small room instantly transforming into something airless and oppressive, a sealed box thick with the damp scent of rain and the charged electricity of his presence. his fingers were already knotting violently into the roots of your hair, wrenching your head backward with such merciless force that pain flared across your scalp like fire racing along exposed nerves, the sharp burn of it making your eyes sting as your neck strained at an unnatural angle, exposing the fragile column of your throat where your pulse throbbed wildly beneath the thin surface of your skin.
he leaned in close enough that the damp strands of his raven-dark hair brushed against your cheek like cold fingers dragging slowly across your face, the faint scent of rainwater and sweat clinging to him as his breath ghosted hot and uneven against the shell of your ear. there was something profoundly wrong in the way he hovered there, something rotten and fractured beneath the surface calm of his breathing, the subtle metallic edge of a mind that had long since slipped past the fragile boundaries separating obsession from madness.
his other hand slid down to your hip and clamped there with bruising force, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh as though he meant to anchor you permanently in place, the pressure cruel enough to drive fresh pain through the fading yellow shadows of older bruises already scattered across your skin like a quiet map of every night you had tried to pretend was the last. with a sharp, possessive tug he shoved your lower body forward until you were crushed flush against him, your soaked clothes clinging together as every hard line of his frame pressed into yours with suffocating intimacy, leaving no space between you for air, for movement, for anything that might resemble escape.
in that suspended moment, with your breath caught somewhere between fear and the dizzying familiarity of him, his voice slipped out low against your ear, venomous and intimate all at once, the quiet tone far more terrifying than shouting could ever be, because it carried the unmistakable weight of something that had grown beyond reason, beyond restraint, something ancient and biblical in its jealousy, as though the simple fact of another man existing within reach of you had become an offense worthy of catastrophe.
“you still smell like him,” he murmured softly, his grip tightening in your hair until your scalp burned beneath his fingers.
the words slithered across your skin like poison, each syllable soaked in quiet fury as his nose brushed the curve of your jaw, drawing in a slow breath as though the scent itself were an insult he intended to punish.
“the filthy trace of another man’s touch clinging to your skin like a disease,” he continued, the calm menace of his voice somehow more chilling than the violence that had preceded it.
“i’ll rip it out of you. i’ll erase every second he existed inside your pathetic little world until the only scent left on you is mine, until the only name you can choke out between screams is mine, until even your bones remember who the fuck you belong to.”
his lips crashed against yours before you could answer, the kiss brutal and consuming, tasting of rain and fury and the salt of tears that had not yet fallen, his teeth catching your lip hard enough to draw the sharp bloom of copper across your tongue. still your body betrayed you in that horrifying, familiar way, arching toward him even as every rational part of your mind screamed in protest, because the terrible truth had already woven itself too deeply through the fragile wiring of your thoughts.
the cycle had become something instinctive, something older than logic. the ugly, intoxicating dance of passion and punishment that he had carved into the foundations of your life piece by piece, until the lines between fear and longing blurred into something unrecognizable, something that left your pulse racing not only with terror but with the twisted, electric thrill of being claimed so completely.
his breath brushed across your skin when he finally pulled back, chest rising and falling as though even he had to fight to contain the storm inside him, his dark eyes searching your face with a frightening intensity that made it feel as though he were peeling apart your thoughts one fragile layer at a time.
“you’ll never escape me,” he said quietly, the promise settling in the room like a curse etched into stone. “not in this life. not in the next.”
his thumb dragged slowly along the side of your throat as he spoke, the gesture almost gentle, almost affectionate, and yet the threat beneath it was unmistakable.
“i’ll burn down every safe place you try to build until you remember who you belong to.”
standing there with the rain still dripping from the dark strands framing his face, his honeyed skin glistening faintly in the dim light while those endless black eyes devoured every flicker of fear and hunger warring across your expression, you felt something inside your chest finally give way, the last fragile thread of resistance snapping quietly somewhere deep within the labyrinth of your mind.
because the truth was far more terrifying than anything he had said aloud.
the suffocating gravity of him had already rooted itself too deeply in the fragile architecture of your thoughts, dragging you back again and again into the same brutal orbit, where every bruising kiss and whispered threat wrapped around your throat like the most exquisite noose, tightening slowly until the only sensation left was the dizzying rush of being alive inside the destruction.
and no matter how many nights you swore would be the last, no matter how many doors you locked or promises you made to yourself beneath trembling breath, the pattern always circled back to this moment. to him standing impossibly close with that knowing look in his eyes.
because the high of wonbin, the terrifying, intoxicating intensity of his devotion twisted into something poisonous and obsessive, had long since become the only drug your fractured soul still craved.
and he knew it. he had always known it.
the slow curve of his smirk pressed into your skin like a brand as the rain continued to fall outside, steady and indifferent, the quiet rhythm of it echoing against the windows while the wreckage unfolding inside the room remained hidden from the rest of the world.





