you shouldn’t have said it. not to sunghoon. you were just bantering.
“bitch.”
you laughed. “small dick.”
“really?”
- - - ゛
“ahh-fuck!” you were a squirming mess, your knees pinned to your chest by sunghoon, who was slamming into you so hard that with every thrust, a loud, wet squelch filled your entire apartment. “sss’ too much—agh!” you cried out again from under him. you could barely think, you were too overwhelmed with the mixture of pleasure and pain he was bringing you.
“not so small huh?” he panted out, sweat beading on his temple as he wrapped his hand around himself and pumped what wouldn’t fit inside you.
you cried out with every thrust, his size making you feel full before it was even halfway in. “admit it,” he cooed, still keeping his speed as his grip on your ass tightened.
you couldn’t even focus on looking at sunghoon— your back arched and head thrown back. “y’r— gah-your too big—nggh,”
he pressed his thumb against your clit with enough pressure to get you screaming more than you already were. “ahh— hoon!”
“fuck,” he muttered, now rubbing circles around it as you both tipped over the edge.
your hand flew up to grab sunghoons bicep as you cried out and came around his cock. “mmph—fuck!”
sunghoon filled you up with more cum than you’d ever taken— it was spilling out of you far after he pulled out.
he fell down beside you, both still catching your breath from your orgasms.
I’M NOT A PARK ANYMORE, I TOOK MY WIFE’S NAME … ❤︎ park sunghoon
01 02 03 ─── bored of your life, you go on tinder and match with a hot guy named park sunghoon, who in his bio, states that he’s “date to marry.” but he offers you a deal: fake a marriage with him to annoy his obnoxious family and he’ll pay you for it.
or you’re in a fake marriage with sunghoon and he takes your last name to piss his relatives off. oh and did i tell you that he’s lowkey obsessed with you? even though he’s just your “fake husband.”
starring husband!sunghoon x wife!reader ₊˚⊹♡ genre smau, romcom, strangers to lovers, fake marriage au, obsessed!hoon, opposite of slowburn 𑣲⋆ warnings use of y/n, profanity, suggestive jokes /•᷅•᷄\੭
( ℰ🪽 ) —— first enha smau >< hope u guys like it :P likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated <3 btw i have never used tinder so i js edited shi .. also there's a videocall part that'll take a few seconds to load.. also pls their texts gets funnier, its still pt1!
( 🪽 ) —— TY FOR READING! worked on this baby for a WHILE... finally posting it FAHH. do comment if u wanna be tagged in the next part :P i'll try my best to post the next part asap (as i literally have 3 ongoing smaus rn..)
Content+Warnings: arranged marriage to lovers,smut,pwop,breeding kink,dom!hoon,virgin reader,hoon hittin it raw,oral(f!receiving).
Wc:5.7k
MNDI.
NOTE: Requested by anon,not proofread, pure self-indulgent filth, Sunghoon is a gentleman even when he’s losing his mind.like+reblogs r appreciated˖ ࣪ . 🦢.
The wedding was beautiful.
Everyone said so. Crystal chandeliers dripping from the ceiling of the Grand Hyatt ballroom, your mother’s vintage Dior gown altered to perfection, Sunghoon in a custom Tom Ford tux that made him look like he’d stepped out of a fashion editorial. Photographers, CEOs, politicians—everyone who mattered was there to witness the union of Park & Co. Luxury Group and your family’s cutting-edge tech empire.
A perfect match on paper.
A merger disguised as matrimony.
You smiled the entire night like the well-bred heiress you were. Sunghoon smiled too—polite, camera-ready, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. He barely touched you. A hand at the small of your back for photos, a chaste kiss on the cheek when the crowd cheered. That was it.
And now, three weeks later, you’re standing in the middle of his—your—penthouse at the top of Seoul’s most exclusive tower, wearing nothing but an oversized silk slip and fuzzy slippers, trying to figure out how to use the espresso machine that probably cost more than your first car.
Sunghoon is already gone. Again.
He leaves before sunrise most days, comes back after midnight. The only evidence he exists is the faint trace of his cologne in the marble hallway and the occasional sticky note on the fridge that says things like Dinner is in the warmer or Meeting ran late. Don’t wait up. in his neat, elegant handwriting.
You’re not stupid. You know what this is. An arrangement. Two families shaking hands over your heads while the lawyers drew up the contracts. You’re the pretty, fertile bridge between empires. He’s the cold, untouchable heir who never wanted a wife in the first place.
But God, you’re trying.
You’ve always been the good girl. The one who baked cookies for the staff on holidays, who graduated top of her class in business but never raised her voice. The one whose body developed early and never quite listened to the rules of “elegant restraint.” Wide hips that sway when you walk, a plush ass that fills out every pencil skirt, full breasts that strain against even the most modest necklines. You’ve spent your whole life trying to dress it down—high necklines, loose fits, dark colors. Still, people stared.
Sunghoon? He hasn’t stared once.
Not until tonight.
It’s past 11 p.m. when you hear the elevator ding.
You’re in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing one of his white dress shirts as an apron because you spilled flour on your slip while attempting to make his favorite japchae from the recipe his mother sent you. The shirt hits mid-thigh, sleeves rolled up, top three buttons undone because it’s hot from the stove. Your hair is piled on top of your head with a claw clip, a few strands sticking to your neck from the steam.
You don’t hear him come in at first. You’re humming softly, hips moving to the quiet lo-fi playlist playing from the speaker, bending over to check the oven when—
“Smells good.”
His voice is low, rough from the long day. You straighten up so fast you almost hit your head on the range hood.
Sunghoon stands at the edge of the open kitchen, tie loosened, jacket slung over one arm, the top buttons of his black shirt undone. His sharp eyes—those glacier eyes everyone calls “intimidating”—flick over you once. Slow. Like he’s seeing you for the first time.
You tug at the hem of his shirt self-consciously. It barely covers anything. “I—I thought you’d be late again. Made dinner. Or… late-night dinner. Whatever.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just sets his jacket on the island stool and walks closer. You can smell the city on him—cold night air, expensive leather, the faint trace of whiskey from whatever business dinner he just left.
His gaze drops.
Not to your face. To the way the shirt rides up when you shift your weight, exposing the soft curve where your thighs meet your ass. The way the fabric stretches across your chest, the faint outline of your nipples because you’re not wearing a bra and the kitchen is warm.
You see the exact moment something in his brain short-circuits.
His jaw flexes. Once. Twice.
“Sunghoon?” you ask softly, voice the same sweet, slightly breathy tone you always use when you’re nervous. Innocent. Like you have no idea what you look like right now. Because you don’t. You never have.
He clears his throat. “You didn’t have to cook.”
“I wanted to.” You smile, small and hopeful, and turn to grab a plate. The motion makes the shirt ride higher. He sees the full, plush swell of your ass, the way the silk clings to the dip of your waist, the generous curve of your hips.
Breeding material.
The thought slams into him so hard he actually grips the edge of the counter.
You’re his wife. On paper. Untouched. Sheltered. The kind of girl who blushes when someone says “fuck” in a movie. And yet your body was built for exactly what his family wanted from this marriage: soft, fertile, made to carry heirs and look devastating while doing it.
He hates how much that turns him on.
You set the plate in front of him, unaware. “Eat before it gets cold, okay? I’ll clean up—”
“Sit.”
It’s not a request. His voice is low, almost hoarse.
You blink those big, doe eyes at him. “Huh?”
“Sit down, Y/N.”
You obey instantly, sliding onto the stool across from him like the good little wife you’re trying so hard to be. The shirt rides up your thighs. He stares. Doesn’t even pretend not to.
The silence stretches.
You fidget. “Is… is something wrong? Did I do it wrong?”
Sunghoon exhales through his nose. He looks like he’s fighting a war in his head. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
“Oh.” Your cheeks go pink. “I’m sorry, I spilled flour on mine and I didn’t want to wake the maid and—”
“Stop.” He cuts you off. His eyes are darker now. “Stop apologizing for existing in my house.”
Your lips part. Innocent confusion written all over your pretty face. “But it’s your shirt…”
He stands up slowly, walks around the island until he’s right in front of you. Towering. You have to tilt your head back to look at him. He smells like sin and restraint.
“You have any idea what you look like right now?” he murmurs.
You shake your head, genuinely lost.
Sunghoon’s hand lifts. His knuckles brush the side of your thigh where the shirt ends, barely there. You shiver.
“Plush little ass in my shirt,” he says, voice dropping an octave. “Tits spilling out the top. Hips like they were made to be grabbed. And you’re just… humming and cooking like a fucking 1950s housewife.”
Your breath hitches. No one has ever spoken to you like this.
“I—I can change—”
“Don’t.” His fingers tighten on your thigh. “Don’t you dare.”
He’s hard. You can see the bulge straining against his slacks, and the realization makes your stomach flip. You’re a virgin. You’ve never even kissed anyone properly before the wedding kiss that lasted half a second. But your body knows what it wants. It’s been aching for weeks every time he walked past you in the hallway smelling like heaven and distance.
He hauls you up onto the counter in one smooth motion, your ass landing on the cool marble with a soft gasp. The shirt bunches around your waist. He steps between your spread thighs like he belongs there.
His mouth crashes into yours—nothing chaste about it this time.Hungry. Possessive. His tongue slides against yours and you whimper into the kiss, hands fisting his shirt. He tastes like whiskey and want. One big hand slides up your thigh, cups the full cheek of your ass and squeezes hard enough to make you moan.
“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips. “This ass. Been driving me insane for weeks. Every time you bend over in those little shorts you wear to bed…”
He kisses down your neck, sucking marks into the skin like he’s claiming territory. His other hand palms your breast through the shirt, thumb circling your nipple until it’s stiff and aching.
“You’re built like a wet dream,” he mutters, almost angry. “Wide hips perfect for carrying my kids. Tits so full they’d leak when you’re pregnant. And you’re sweet. So fucking sweet it makes me want to ruin you.”
You’re panting, head spinning. “Sunghoon… I’ve never—”
“I know.” He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are black with lust but there’s something soft underneath. “I know you’re a virgin, baby. That’s why I stayed away. But I can’t anymore. Not when you walk around looking like my personal breeding material in my own goddamn kitchen.”
He drops to his knees.
You squeak when he spreads your thighs wider, pushes the shirt up to your waist. No panties. You never wear them to bed. His breath ghosts over your bare pussy and you tremble.
“So pretty,” he murmurs, almost reverent. “Look at this little cunt. Never been touched and it’s already wet for me.”
He leans in and licks a slow, broad stripe up your folds. Your back arches off the counter with a broken moan. He does it again, firmer, tongue flicking your clit on every pass until you’re shaking.
“Sunghoon—oh god—”
He eats you like a man starved. No hesitation, no teasing. Just hungry, filthy licks and sucks that have you grinding against his face without shame. His hands grip your hips, holding you down as he devours you—lapping at your entrance, sucking your clit, groaning like you taste better than anything he’s ever had.
You come embarrassingly fast, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name like a prayer. He doesn’t stop. He keeps going until you’re sobbing, oversensitive and twitching.
Only then does he stand up, lips shiny with you, and kisses you so you can taste yourself.
“First time I make my wife come and it’s on the kitchen counter,” he says with a dark little laugh. “We’re just getting started.”
He lifts you like you weigh nothing—your legs wrap around his waist instinctively—and carries you to the bedroom. The master suite you’ve been sleeping in alone for three weeks.
He lays you on the bed like you’re precious, then strips. Shirt. Belt. Pants. You watch, wide-eyed, as his cock springs free—thick, long, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. You’ve never seen one in real life. It looks obscene. Perfect.
Sunghoon crawls over you, caging you in. “Still okay?” he asks, voice softer now. “We can stop. I’ll jerk off in the shower like I have been every night since the wedding.”
You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. “I want this. I want you. Please… make me yours for real.”
He kisses you slow and deep, then reaches into the nightstand for lube and a condom. You stop his hand.
“I’m on the pill,” you whisper, cheeks burning. “For… for the marriage. They said it was better if i… .”you stutter trying to find a suitable word.
His eyes flash. The breeding kink he’s been trying to ignore roars back to life.
“No condom,” he growls. “Not tonight. Not ever if you let me. Want to feel you raw. Want to fill this pretty pussy until it leaks.”
You nod frantically.
He slicks himself up anyway, just enough, then notches the head of his cock at your entrance. He pushes in slow—inch by inch—watching your face the entire time. You’re so tight it makes his jaw clench.
“Relax, baby. Breathe. That’s it… good girl.”
It burns, but the stretch feels right. When he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, you both moan. He stays there, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispers. “So warm. So fucking tight. Like you were made for me.”
He starts moving—shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, harder. Every drag of his cock against your walls makes stars burst behind your eyes. He angles his hips and hits a spot that makes you cry out.
“Right there? Yeah? Gonna make you come on my cock like a good little wife.”
He fucks you harder. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the room. His hands are everywhere—squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples, gripping your ass to pull you onto him deeper. He leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing, while his cock pistons in and out.
You come again, clenching around him so hard he groans your name like a curse.
He doesn’t stop. He flips you over onto your stomach, pulls your hips up so your ass is in the air, and slides back in with one smooth thrust. The new angle makes you scream into the pillow.
“Look at this ass,” he pants, spanking one cheek lightly, then harder when you moan. “Bouncing so pretty for me. Gonna fuck you full every night. Keep you dripping with my cum so everyone knows who you belong to.”
You’re babbling now—yes, please, Sunghoon, more—lost in the pleasure. He reaches around and rubs your clit in tight circles.
“Come again. Want to feel you milk me.”
You do. Shaking, sobbing, pussy fluttering around his cock. He follows right after, burying himself to the hilt and coming with a guttural groan. You feel the hot rush of him inside you—thick, endless pulses that make your belly feel warm and full.
He collapses over you, careful not to crush you, and presses soft kisses to your shoulder blades.
After that night, everything changes.
Sunghoon still works long hours, but now he comes home early enough to eat the dinners you make. He eats you for dessert on the kitchen island at least twice a week. He fucks you in the shower, bent over the marble vanity while you watch yourselves in the mirror. He takes you on the balcony under the Seoul skyline, your silk robe hiked up around your waist while he growls filthy promises about knocking you up against the glass.
He’s still the same cold, elegant CEO in public. But at home he’s insatiable—hands always on your ass, mouth always on your neck, cock always ready to remind you who you belong to.
One night, after he’s fucked you slow and deep in the big bed, he lies behind you, spooned up close, hand splayed possessively over your lower belly.
“You know why I stayed away at first?” he murmurs into your hair.
You hum, sleepy and satisfied.
“Because the second I saw you at the altar. those hips, that ass, those tits—I knew I’d never be able to keep my hands off you. Knew I’d want to breed you the first chance I got. And you were looking at me with those big innocent eyes like you’d never had a dirty thought in your life.” He kisses the back of your neck. “Made me feel like a pervert for wanting my own wife so badly.”
You turn in his arms, smiling softly. “I’m not innocent anymore.”
His eyes darken with fresh heat. “No. You’re not.” He rolls you under him again, already hard. “But you’re still my sweet little wife. And I’m never letting you go.”
You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in.
“Good,” you whisper against his lips. “Because I was made to be yours.”
And you were.
The merger thrived. The papers called it a love match. Only the two of you knew the truth: it started as an arrangement, but the moment Sunghoon saw you in his kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt and that body built for sin and softness, it became something else entirely.
( 박성훈 ) ⓘ 𝑺𝑴𝑼𝑻! ⋆ bfs!sunghoon ⋆ first time ⋆ bigdick virgin!sunghoon ⋆ size kink ⋆ clit play ⋆ mention of porn ⋆ unprotected sex : 1070
──── in which ︵ teaching virgin sunghoon about sex seemed easy enough, until he ended up between your thighs, completely obsessed with the way you felt around him. turns out, inexperienced doesn’t mean innocent.
✩now playing - call out my name | the weeknd | - ✩viewmasterlist to check out my other works!
“fuck, okay..." sunghoon breathes out, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips out of habit. his eyes are glued to your glistening pussy on full display in front of him, his dick throbbing painfully at the sight of you so wet for him. he’s holding (more like gripping) his dick firmly in one hand, the other is on your thigh, fingers digging into your flesh.
his tip is already wet with his own precum, throat so dry he has to swallow thickly every few minutes. he cannot believe this is actually happening. he never even imagined you’d let him touch you this way, let alone look at you this way.
you wait patiently, legs spread as far as they can go, making sure to give him easier access to your core since this is his first time after all.
and he’s grateful you’re letting him set the pace, because truthfully? he’s scared. terrified he’d fuck it all up. it doesn’t help that his dick is bigger than average, something he’d taken pride in until this very moment.
sunghoon shifts on the bed, the mattress creaking under him, as he gets closer to you. his hand trembles ever so slightly as he slowly runs the fat head of his cock through your drenched folds, hissing softly at the feeling of your warm slick coating his throbbing cockhead.
his eyes dart up briefly to look at your face, and seeing the arousal in your expression as you look down at your own pussy being teased by his dick almost sends him over the edge. he’s a virgin after all—even if he’s not so innocent.
being dirty minded but inexperienced is one of the few things you’ve always teased him about but look at you now, spread open for him to take you.
the feeling of his tip pressing against your entrance makes you both suck in a sharp breath, hearts pounding and bodies burning with unadulterated desire. sunghoon looks up at you from your core, eyes searching for any signs of hesitation. when he finds none, he slowly pushes inside, his thick head stretching you wide open.
your brows furrow almost immediately, face contorting in pleasure and slight pain from the burn of how much he’s opening you up.
sunghoon’s jaw is clenched tightly but his expression mirrors yours otherwise—full of unbridled pleasure.
only half way in is enough to make sunghoon feel that warm, tightening feeling inside his stomach. “fuuck... you’re so tight,” he moans, a low, breathless sound, and it only makes you tighter around him, eliciting a hiss from sunghoon.
he bottoms out with a soft grunt, sparks exploding behind his eyes at the sensation. he’s never felt anything so warm and wet and tight. his hand doesn’t even come close to how good your pussy feels. and he’s wondering why he hasn’t done this sooner.
it’s almost out of instinct when he begins moving, hips rocking back and forth in a slow rhythm, still finding his pace. his hands tighten under your knees where he’s holding you open, pushing your legs further into your chest and almost folding you in half.
he almost loses it when your eyes roll back briefly, the sweetest moans leaving your pouty parted lips as he fucks into you slowly but deeply, thick length stretching you so good. sunghoon grits his teeth, jaw muscles ticking as he tries to focus on your pleasure rather than the feeling of his orgasm approaching awfully quickly.
in his mind, he’s begging himself to not cum so quickly. fortunately for him, you’re getting close quickly too—despite the slowness of his thrusts. It’s like his dick is hitting everything all at once; every sweet spot is being stimulated because he’s just that big. it almost feels like he’s in your guts, hitting so deep your moans mix with breathless gasps.
just like he’s seen in porn, his hand leaves your leg to rub your clit with his thumb, circling the swollen little nub in tight circles.
shocks of pleasure shoot up his spine when he feels you tighten like a velvet vice around his pulsating cock.
“f-fuck, hoon…! right there! don’t stop- please, don’t stop--!" your moans of pleasure, the sight of your perfect breasts pushing out as your back arches, and the feeling of your pussy beginning to flutter around him, almost makes him nut.
with a surge of desire, sunghoon shifts his position and pulls your legs over his shoulder instead, arms wrapping around your thighs. when he starts moving, he doesn’t go slow like before—he pounds into you.
the sudden change in pace fucks with your head, your hands scrambling for purchase on his bedsheets. despite being a virgin just minutes prior, he seems to get the hang of it quite quickly.
the way he’s hitting your sweet spot just right is mind-blowing in more ways than one—because he’s not supposed to be this good at sex.
it doesn’t even take long for you to come all over his big dick, moaning in ecstasy as waves of pleasure crash over you.
sunghoon’s hips jerk, his head dropping, hunching forward as he gasps softly.
despite his best efforts to hold back the inevitable—the feeling of your pussy milking him so greedily is his undoing. and he’s coming inside you before he can even warn you.
you moan, a raw, needy sound clawing out of your throat, as his hot semen fills you to the brim, cock throbbing desperately inside you as he keeps fucking you slowly. he groans low in his throat as he slumps forward, body slick with a thin sheen of sweat and forehead pressing against the pillow next to your head.
“you came inside." you breathe out, still slightly breathless.
sunghoon’s arms let go of your legs and instead he braces them on either side of your head, hips twitching occasionally, face still buried in the pillow, ears flushed pink, dick throbbing.
“sorry... couldn’t help it,” he murmurs apologetically, still catching his breath. he shifts slightly so his face is buried in your neck instead of your plush pillow, inhaling your sweet scent. “i’ll go get a morning after pill..."
“you better,” you poke his side, making him laugh into your skin, lips brushing against your neck so softly and intimately it almost feels like a kiss.
SYNOPSIS ⟢ Park Sunghoon can easily be described in three words: stuck-up, picky, and overly critical about everything and everyone. That was until he met you, who ticked off everything he liked in his head. One problem, he's got too much pride and ego to do anything about it. The other problem? His best friend, Jake, swooped in and took action before he could even build up the courage––and Sunghoon really hates when people take what's his.
pairing ⟢ grumpy downbad! sunghoon x fem! reader
genre ⟢ written, friends to lovers (?), university au
content warnings ⟢ smut with plot (18+), humour, profanity, use of alcohol, reader is with jake for a certain period in the story, sunghoon has a one-sided rivalry with jake, mutual pining but they don't know, sunghoon is stubborn in the beginning but should lowkey be prescribed xanax later on, everyone in the story kinda makes poor decisions (depending how you view it), homie hopping lol, softdom! sunghoon, unprotected p in v sex, multiple rounds, overstimulation, fingering, oral (m & f. receiving), mild ass play, nipple play, bulge kink, dirty talk, squirting, use of petnames (just baby), sunghoon is downright filthy in bed.
featuring ⟢ all of enhypen (7), giselle of aespa & anton of riize cameo(s)
word count: ~12k
author's note: official bambiens comeback with my first EVER full-length fic!! (please be kind to me), i genuinely didn't think i'd ever post a full-length fic –– let alone this one, like i thought this shit was gonna get sent straight into the basement. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing this!! also i haven't proofread this yet let me know if there are any mistakes please!
MR. POSSESSIVE PLAYLIST ⊹˚♬₊⋆
reblogs appreciated ♡
PARK SUNGHOON was always a hard guy to please.
Exhibit A (extracted from age 5): As a child, he’d make a fuss whenever his mom forgot to cut the crusts off of his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
To this day, he still tells his mom that he didn't throw tantrums over bread crusts because he was “picky,” but simply because he had “food sensory issues.”
Exhibit B (extracted from age 10): He liked his toy figurines organized in a certain kind of way –– aligned on his shelf, standing upright, facing forward. Nothing else, no exceptions.
One day, he found his limited edition Superman action figure fallen face flat on the shelf.
His parents earthquake-proofed all of their furniture.
…he later found out that his sister was secretly playing with his toys while he was at school.
Sunghoon didn’t come out of his room for three days after that.
Exhibit C (extracted from age 15): There were even instances in high school where he would get his grades appealed if he believed they were “marked incorrectly,” which, by the way, always got re-corrected in the end. Even if he really was wrong in the first place.
It was either his way or the highway.
In other words, Park Sunghoon was a complete perfectionist, and this fastidious behaviour followed him well into his adulthood.
Somehow along the way, he managed to score himself a scholarship and landed himself a place in a prestigious university.
But even when he got there he was sensitive about the minor details. He was extremely particular about his class timetable, stuck to a tight-grit schedule, and even had certain criteria of who could be his friend and who couldn’t.
And when it finally came down to choosing his university friends, he managed to pick people who were all in the same major, shared the same humour, had the same hobbies, and followed similar daily schedules as him –– but before you think of anything, no, they definitely weren’t as hypercritical as he was.
Don’t get him wrong though, despite his meticulous and seemingly strict nature, he still found time to fool around and have fun whilst in school.
If anything, Sunghoon considered himself as… quite the witty guy.
He kept a mental list of things he likes. He likes watching funny cat memes on his feed, playing games on his computer during his free time, going clubbing with his friends every weekend, and he also really likes how the shawarma shop beside his place always had a buy-one-get-one deal on Thursdays.
He also had a list of things he hates. He hates when he has to share his food, or anything, really; he hates when people chew with their mouths open, he hates when freshmen walk too slowly on campus, he hates when his roommates “forget” to clean their dirty dishes –– honestly, the list could go on and on.
But, for the past couple of months, what he hated most was his best friend, Sim Jake.
Sunghoon didn’t always hate him though. If he hated him from the beginning, one, he wouldn’t have befriended him in the first place, and two, he wouldn’t have asked him to be one of his roommates –– which, this entire living situation soon became an issue with him. An extreme issue, he would call it, even.
So, what was the catalyst to the start of Sunghoon’s immense hatred towards Jake, you may ask?
Well, it was you.
At this point, Sunghoon’s heard it all. With people constantly calling him “nit-picky” and “extremely demanding,” always complaining that he has these crazy high standards for everything and that there’s nothing — better yet, no one — he ever liked from the get-go.
How exhausting does that sound?
Though he can admit, they’re all right about him being nit-picky, extremely demanding, and right about him having those “crazy high” standards. But, they were a bit wrong about that last part.
Park Sunghoon wasn’t sure about a lot of things, but he knew he was sure he liked you.
He guessed he always, at least, subconsciously knew he liked you from the second the two of you met during freshmen orientation –– he hadn’t realized it back then, but you kind of just checked off all the boxes in his mind.
With his personality though, he had never admitted it out-loud –– even if it was pain-stakingly obvious to all of his close friends.
It honestly really was just a little crush to him at first. He started looking for your face around campus, teasing you whenever you were around, occasionally texting each other. You know, doing the usual shit slightly delusional people always do to cope with their minor infatuations who don’t like them back.
Surprisingly over time, the two of you eventually became a lot closer and hung out with each other more.
…and also became a little more flirtatious with each other (at least that’s what Sunghoon thinks, but he’s not too sure).
It got to the point where Sunghoon’s friends could tell whether he was in a good mood or not depending on whether he got a text from you that day.
You and Sunghoon were good, he thought things were going well –– he’s got game… right?
Until one day, Sunghoon’s fairytale-princess-dream of living a life with the two of you together all came crashing down.
To be honest, you’d never met Sunghoon’s so-called “best friends” the past two years you had been friends. You started to wonder whether they were real or if Sunghoon was just faking it and actually has no friends.
Eventually, you came to meet them –– Heeseung, Jay, Sunoo, Jungwon, Riki, and Jake.
Sunghoon really hated that. He never even wanted to introduce you to his friends, you guys just bumped into each other by accident.
In his mind, he kind of just wanted to keep you as his little secret. After all, he met you first, befriended you first, and liked you first. And again, Sunghoon really hated sharing.
And, it sounds a teensy bit toxic but he’d always been competitive to the bone, maybe a little too much. So when he saw you started getting a lot closer to Jake than you were with him, it honestly felt like a two-faced betrayal. But he couldn’t say anything –– his ego and stubbornness wouldn’t let him.
Sunghoon kind of just watched and let it happen, so he honestly shouldn’t even be that mad. At first, he tried to bury the thought of you and Jake being “best friends” in the back of his head. But it didn’t help when you started coming over to his shared apartment to hang out with stupid, freaking Jake.
He always wondered why you chose Jake and not him.
All of Sunghoon’s friends had just adjusted from the fact that they thought he liked you... to Jake being the one pursuing you instead.
You and Sunghoon never “fell out,” however, the friendship felt a bit more distant. But what was Sunghoon supposed to do about it? Beg you to become best friends with him instead? Whenever he thought this way, he’d always feel like he reverted back into a kid.
When you’d come over, you would say “hi,” and engage in like, three-minute small talk with Sunghoon, and then go into Jake’s stinkin’ room and giggle with him and probably have so much fun with whatever the fuck Jake is doing.
Sunghoon wouldn’t really know though, he couldn’t bring himself to ask what the two of you did when you left their apartment.
The most information he could get was when his other roommates would tease Jake about you. There was one particular time, however, where Sunghoon was royally pissed off over the two of you. According to him, this conversation was just so juvenile and hard-to-listen to this day.
Sunghoon was in the kitchen fixing their coffee machine while silently eavesdropping on his roommates by the couch. Jay lightly nudged Jake’s shoulder, “So, you and y/n, what’s up with that?”
The second Sunghoon heard Jay drop the first vowel of your name, his ears immediately perked up.
Jake chuckles, staying focused on the game in front of him, “Nah man, chill. It’s nothing like that.”
Liar.
Heeseung tsks, tossing his controller down after losing a match against Jake, “If it was just ‘nothing’ then you wouldn’t be texting her all day and hanging out with her more than your own roommmates.”
Right? Heeseung’s so right. If it really was just “nothing” then he wouldn’t have caught Jake kicking his feet up and down while on the phone with you.
“Guys, leave it, we’re just best friends.” Jake laughs.
Yeah right, that’s such bullshit cause Sunghoon had found out you two started dating, like, exactly a month later.
That was essentially the beginning of his own hell, agony, and his pure hatred towards Jake.
Sunghoon would see you waltz into his –– their, sorry –– apartment almost every day with a huge smile plastered on your face like shit was all sweet and rainbows and butterflies when he was suffering every waking minute.
Daily he’d see your annoyingly gorgeous face, hear your stupidly adorable laughter through the walls, and watch you and Jake be all lovey-dovey right in front of him. Sunghoon didn’t even know he could like a person to this extent, you just made him like this.
It actually made him sick in the stomach. That should’ve been him.
One morning, he genuinely contemplated jumping off of their balcony when you stepped outside of Jake’s room wearing his clothes. He wanted to shout, he wanted to remind you that you were his friend first, he wanted to ask you, “what do you see in him that you don’t see in me?”
But all he managed to spit out was, “Morning, you want coffee?” while gripping onto his penguin-shaped coffee mug so tight that it was on the brink of shattering into pieces.
Now, Sunghoon knew it was wrong, and that you’re now quite literally his best friend's girlfriend but what ever happened to “dibs?” He knew you way before than dumbass Jake did.
One night, Sunghoon couldn’t fall asleep. He had been tossing and turning for the past two hours trying not to lose his mind over the fact that you were sleeping over at their place, again.
He thought some tea might help soothe his worries and ease his anxiety a little bit, eventually bringing him to sleep, so he got up and made his way over to the kettle in the kitchen. He got his favourite mug out and had the peppermint tea bag sitting nicely inside when he heard a small pip-squeak coming from the rooms.
At first he couldn’t actually tell if that sound was coming from the rooms or if it was just the steam from the kettle, but then a pip-squeak turned into a muffled gasp –– a seemingly sexual sounding one, he believed.
Sunghoon couldn’t bear to stick around longer to figure out whether you and Jake were having sex. That was enough for him to abandon his cup of tea and trudge his way over to Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki’s place in his house slippers and pajamas.
He even bought ear-plugs at the convenience store on the way there.
Sunghoon honestly doesn’t really remember much after he bolted out of his apartment that night. But according to them, he got to their place and sat in the corner of their living room with his knees to his chest –– refusing to tell any of them what the matter was –– eventually falling asleep on the floor.
Riki also did keep mentioning how Sunghoon started rocking back-and-forth while whispering to himself quietly, but everyone knows Riki has a thing for theatrics.
While yes, Sunghoon had thoughts about you that were most definitely against the bro-code, he never actually acted on them.
Like, yeah Sunghoon hated his best friend for stealing the love of his life, but that’s still literally his best friend –– whom he hates. It’s complicated, he can’t really explain it.
Over the course of a couple months, Sunghoon thinks he’s seen and heard it all, especially the arguments you and Jake would have. On those nights, he prayed he’d wake up to news that you guys finally broke up –– which never happened by the way.
Those arguments were usually petty and small, but a particular argument was unlike the rest.
One day, you ran out of Jake’s room in tears. Sunghoon was on the couch watching the evening news with the volume turned up so high at the time, he couldn’t even hear you guys arguing anymore.
But this was just usual protocol whenever you and Jake would argue, it felt almost invasive so all of the guys agreed to blast the TV and drown out the yelling sound.
At first, Sunghoon didn’t notice you crying hysterically –– not until he looked up and saw your face.
Sunghoon’s body reacted by itself. Without even meaning to, he found himself chasing after you to make sure you were okay. You two were still friends regardless of the fact that you were in a relationship with Jake, so he thought this was totally justifiable.
When Sunghoon finally caught up to you, he grabbed your arm, “Hey,” he spoke softly, “I can’t let you leave until I know you’re okay. What’s wrong?”
You finally turn to look at him, and he sees you: mascara running down your rosy cheeks, eyes all puffy, your nose running a little. It wasn’t long till you shrugged Sunghoon’s hand off your arm.
“Stop acting stupid,” you spat, “you guys are best friends, I know you that you know already. Really, what are you even here for? To seem like some good-guy-hero? Like, what, you’re gonna go on a whole tangent about how Jake is a great guy, that this is just some miscommunication, how he’ll apologize or that, maybe even I should be the one to apologize––”
Maybe Sunghoon shouldn’t have said what he said next, because it just made things worse.
“Is that really what you think of me, y/n? Like I’m just Jake’s loyal fucking lapdog running after you so I can take his side? He’s my friend, yeah, but why would you ever think that lowly of me?”
At this point, you started to feel really bad for snapping on him when in reality, he was just trying to help.
Sunghoon speaks in a tiny voice, “I don’t even know what’s going on in your relationship. I don’t even ask about it because it hurts.”
Your face of dishevelment slowly turns into confusion as you keep listening to Sunghoon, “What are you talking about?”
Sunghoon knows he probably shouldn’t be talking about this right now, that he should just end the conversation there and maybe try to gaslight you into thinking that he actually said something else –– but it all slipped out.
He lets out a frustrated sigh accompanied with a quick eye-roll, almost like he can’t believe the words that he’s about to say, “I met you first. We were friends first. I liked you first. But I just let you slip away and now you’re his –– and I can’t do anything about it. I’ve been forced to just watch you with him. You don’t even know how bitter I get seeing you guys together. He knew I liked you first, and he took you away from me. You were supposed to be with me instead.”
You have a boyfriend, this is your boyfriend’s best friend. This whole situation is fucked up. All you do is shake your head in disbelief, “What are you trying to say, what’s the whole point of this Sunghoon?”
A pause of silence passed by, and in those seconds of quietness, Sunghoon really tried hard to think, what is the whole point of him telling you this now? What did he think would even happen?
“I–I don’t know,” he stutters, “just– nothing. Just forget everything I said please, just forget about it. Let me get you an Uber home.”
The truth was, you understood what he meant completely and you couldn’t just simply forget about it.
But you had to pretend.
Just in time, you saw Jake jogging towards you two in your peripheral vision. It wasn’t long until Sunghoon noticed.
The second Jake came to you, Sunghoon took a step back and left.
You honestly forgot about your argument with Jake until he apologized and insisted he drove you home. The drive back to your place was silent. Your head was leaned against the car window with your hands between your thighs the entire ride.
Jake turned onto your street, eventually pulling up to the entrance of your apartment. The two of you sit there for a while, the only sound coming from his fingers lightly drumming on the console. Your gaze stays fixed on a tree outside, too embarrassed to break the ice first.
He moves his hand onto the steering wheel, “y/n, I’m really sorry.”
You turn your head slightly to look at him before pushing the car door open, “It’s fine, just don’t let it happen again.”
Jake watches you slam the car door shut, making your way inside and up the elevator before he drives away.
That night, you had a lot to ponder about –– not just because of the argument you and your boyfriend had, but also because of what his best friend had just confessed to you...
Fuck, why are you even thinking about Sunghoon again? Jake’s right here. Jake is your boyfriend… yeah.
⋆˚࿔
Mondays were always the worst for Sunghoon. At 8 a.m., he has Theory of Computation, then once that ends at 10, he has an hour to himself before he’s got three back-to-back classes till 4 p.m. On top of that, he also told Sunoo and Riki that he’d meet them at the library at 6:30 p.m. to get a headstart on their group project.
Great, he thought, so now he’s able to schedule an hour-long nervous breakdown before he has to compose himself like a normal citizen and attend to his responsibilities again.
Once he got home after his final lecture of the day, he sat on his desk chair (not his bed, he had his outside clothes on) and pulled out his phone from his backpocket.
“Google am I a bad person?”
Sunghoon’s staring at the searchbar waiting for the results to load on his phone, the floorboards creaking loudly because of how much he kept bouncing his legs out of anxiety.
All he’s done the past 24 hours was replay the conversation he last had with you, and the more he kept thinking about it, the more he started to feel like he really fucked up this time.
His first worry was you possibly telling Jake that he had just confessed his undying love for you –– but when he heard Jake say good morning the next day while making an omelette, he crossed that fear off the list.
'Cause like, what guy who's mad would make omelettes in the morning?
His second worry was that he might actually be a horrible person. Sunghoon always understood he was insufferable since birth, but never once has he thought he was a bad guy… until now.
Like, it’s a really fucked up situation right? He put you in a difficult position, and if Jake finds out then that’s goodbye to his best friend too –– oh god, what about his roommates? Will he have to find a new place to live next year?
A plethora of different worries began to plague his mind until he realized the search results had finally loaded on his phone. He saw countless people asking the same question on different forums, where he eventually found himself on r/AmItheAsshole, reading excerpts from literally Lucifer(s) themselves in attempts to make him feel better about his own situation.
At that moment Sunghoon came to the realization that, yeah there are definitely a lot of worse people in the world with way more questionable morals than him –– and that if he was considered a bad person, then the people of this Subreddit must think he’s made out of unicorns and sunshine.
Before he left his apartment again, he took a deep breath, tried to push his feelings down and go about his day.
When he finally arrived at the library, he found Jungwon and Riki at their usual spot. Jungwon spots him walking towards them first, prompting him to move his backpack on the seat beside him to the ground, “Hey, we saved you a spot.”
Sunghoon falls into the chair, “Thanks man.”
In front of Jungwon, Riki lays his head flat on the table, “Guys, can we rethink this. We have a month till this project is due. Isn’t doing this real early almost unnecessary?”
Jungwon continues typing on his keyboard, not once looking up, “It’s just in case, and there’s nothing wrong with starting early.”
Riki rolls his eyes and releases a big sigh before raising his head to look back up at his JavaScript for the nth time today.
Once Sunghoon had opened up his computer, Jungwon left no time to waste, “I forgot to ask, have you ever used a graphical interface for designing SQL queries before?"
“Yeah, have you?”
Riki looks up at the two of them like they’re speaking a completely different language, when in reality he’s supposed to be in the same major as them –– therefore he probably should know what Sunghoon and Jungwon are talking about.
“No,” Jungwon shakes his head, “But, that’ll aid us while building this thing.”
“I’ve had enough of this,” Riki groans and shuts his laptop, “Sorry Won, but I’ve been busting my ass learning this code for the past three hours we’ve been here –– I haven’t even eaten anything yet!”
He pulls out his phone, face immediately lighting up green, “Fuck it, I’m ordering UberEats, y’all want something?”
Sunghoon declines, “Nah, I’m good I ate before I left.”
Inside his backpack, Jungwon pulls out a tupperware filled with fruit and a bag of half-eaten beef jerky, “It’s fine, I packed myself some food.”
“Dude, what the hell,” Riki exits from the app, “Why didn’t you tell me you had food, my stomach has been grumbling for a whole hour.”
“Yeah, I know, I heard.”
Riki snatches the bag of opened beef jerky as a form of opposition against Jungwon, stuffing a handful into his mouth.
“Wait,” pausing mid-chew to swallow his food, “Anton just texted me, apparently his frat’s hosting a houseparty, mixer-thingy –– whatever the fuck –– on Friday.”
Sunghoon holds back a laugh, “Hell nah, remember what happened when their frat threw a party last semester?”
Unlike Sunghoon, Jungwon has no shame and bursts out in laughter causing the rest of the people on the floor to hush him, “Yo, we gotta go, Jake was legendary that time.”
Riki’s face falters as if he were recalling a traumatic memory, “Man, I don’t think Jake’s gonna act out, he’s been a different guy ever since he got a girl. Kinda miss the old him.”
After hearing your name being brought up in the conversation, Sunghoon looks up from his computer, fully immersing himself in the topic –– yet, he can’t bring himself to speak.
“Don’t make assumptions that he’s boring yet, I don’t think this guy has gone out since then, the guy’s a beast when he’s fucked up. Ya never know. Maybe he’ll surprise us.” Jungwon chuckles.
“Do you still have that video of him from last year?”
“Bro, of course I do. Chill, let me find it on my camera roll.”
At this moment, all of Sunghoon’s thoughts began racing.
He can’t help it but those feelings of resentment towards Jake are all coming back again. Maybe he really is a bad person after all, because the only thing he could say was, “I think we should go.”
This is the reason why Sunghoon thinks that he might actually be a horrible person –– because why would he want to see his best friend potentially fuck up?
From then on, Sunghoon decided that this was the last time he would be selfish ...he thinks.
⋆˚࿔
It was around 10 p.m. when Sunghoon had gotten home from the library. All of the lights in the apartment were turned off, which was kind of odd to him but he didn’t really pay much attention to it. He figures his roommates just went somewhere –– he honestly doesn’t care where.
In fact, he liked it when he was the only one home. It gave him some peace and solace. He never liked to admit it, but sometimes being with other people is exhausting.
Not that he doesn’t like being around his roommates, he does. It’s just a little daunting for him to be around people for extended periods of time. He really hates the way he thinks. He finds it a little embarrassing that he thinks it’s anxiety-inducing and overwhelming to be around other people sometimes.
He thinks his logic is flawed, and almost wishes he wasn’t like this. Look at Park Sunghoon, uptight, picky, critical, no-good-for-anyone –– yet he can’t stick around long if he’s surrounded by people or else he’ll freak out?
Whatever, he doesn’t have time to host his own pity party when he’s got bigger fish to fry.
In hopes of seeking relaxation after the day he’s had, he grabs a towel and heads toward the bathroom. Waiting for him was a nice, steamy-hot shower, preferably one that’s a little too hot that it makes his body physically produce steam.
What he expected to see when he walked into the bathroom was a fucking toilet, shower, and sink. But when he opened the bathroom door, he was greeted with a fucking toilet, shower, sink, and you who just happens to be brushing your teeth oh-so conveniently at the same time Sunghoon wants to shower.
Truthfully, you almost scared the shit out of Sunghoon when he saw your face, cause first of all, no one’s even supposed to be home right now (allegedly).
Your eyes widen when you come face-to-face with Sunghoon. This was the first time the two of you had seen each other since last night. He didn’t rehearse this meeting happening and now he’s internally freaking out.
Instead of the awkward encounter Sunghoon had anticipated, you spit out your toothpaste, finish brushing your teeth, and flash him a smile, “Hey, sorry I was just quickly brushing my teeth, you can use the bathroom now.”
A smile that almost convinced Sunghoon that maybe last night was all just a dream and didn’t actually happen in real life.
Straight-faced, he nods, clearing the doorway for you to step out. He watches you walk past his bedroom door and go into Jake’s room before he steps inside the bathroom.
Under the showerhead, Sunghoon lets the water run down his head, staring down at the drain. He had numerous thoughts running through his mind, but what stuck out most was why you just acted like nothing had happened between them?
When he looks up to grab his shampoo, he sees all of your shower products in the corner with Jake’s toiletries –– which made him come to the realization that actually, maybe nothing had happened between you two at all.
At the end of the day, you’re still Jake’s girl. Nothing changed that. Not even his stupid confession of love for you.
When he stepped out of the shower, he concluded that what really happened was: he shared his feelings for you on a whim, you basically rejected him, and now you’re probably just being nice to him, acting like everything is fine because he’s still Jake’s best friend after all.
Fuck, now he’s embarrassed. He should just forget about this whole ordeal –– right?
⋆˚࿔
For the rest of the week, Sunghoon was lucky enough to not bump into you anywhere –– not even inside their apartment. There were days where he knew you were over, but you never came out of Jake’s room whenever he was around.
All Sunghoon had been looking forward to all week was Anton’s frat party. It was basically an excuse for him to abuse alcohol and make bad decisions.
Once he came home from his last lab at 7:30 p.m. on Friday, he found his quiet sanctuary (his shared apartment) filled with all of his friends, quickly grabbing a beer from one of the cartons before ducking into his room to change.
Sunghoon tried to act nonchalantly, pretending like he didn’t actually care about what he was gonna wear to the frat party. It’s not even like he has clothes that would upstage anyone’s outfit, he was really overthinking it for no reason.
Knock knock.
“Yo, just come in, why’d you have to fucking knock?” he yells.
A small voice spoke through the crack of his door, “Oh, sorry, um, it’s just me, y/n, the guys need help picking up the keg stand.”
Sunghoon almost got whiplash from how fast he turned his head around to look at you; you hadn’t stepped a foot into his room, the door was slightly creaked open, and your head was down –– which he soon realized it’s because he doesn’t have a shirt on.
He swiftly grabbed the first shirt that was within vicinity and threw it on, “Oh sorry, I thought you were one of the guys, you caught me off guard.”
You flail your hands, finally looking up now that he’s fully clothed, “No! It’s okay! They told me to go and get you –– wait.”
Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows, wait for what?
All he could hear was your laughter, one that he recognized all too well, “Maybe you should change your shirt, Hoon.”
He immediately dropped his head down to look at what he was wearing.
…of course the shirt he had to grab happened to be the stupid t-shirt Heeseung gave him for Christmas that says “Mike Who Cheese Hairy” in bold.
Great, could Sunghoon’s life get any worse?
That night, he had a little too much to drink, actually maybe way more than he anticipated. But Sunghoon wasn’t the messy type of drunk –– at least that’s what he thinks.
He was never the type of guy who let himself get too intoxicated. He usually knew what his limits were. Oftentimes, he thought that overly drunk people in public settings were making a fool of themselves and that maybe those people just had a humiliation kink.
But as of right now, Sunghoon’s kinda having trouble holding his balance at Alpha Epsilon Pi’s mixer.
In his defence, he only got this fucked up because him and Jake were going back-to-back on that keg stand trying to outdo the other –– which only got the both of them hammered.
What made things even worse for Sunghoon, however, was the fact that 15 feet away from him were you and Jake.
Sunghoon was consumed in jealousy. How could he not? He can’t bring himself to look away from the painful scene in front of him, Jake wobbling against the island table with his hands wrapped around your waist while you fix his scruffy hair.
All he could think was: I’m drunk as fuck too. Where’s my help?
He scoffed and decided he’s had enough and went up the stairs. Using all of his strength, he managed to lock himself in a bathroom and finally took a deep breath out.
Sunghoon kept blinking his eyes while staring at his reflection in the mirror –– trying to desperately convince himself he’s not seeing double right now.
Thinking that he might be able to sober up, he turned on the faucet, cupping his hand and drank from the sink (he also splashed a bunch of water on his face, slapped himself 10x, and tried to pull trig, which he failed to do).
After 15 minutes had passed by and a hundred knocks later, Sunghoon decided to finally come out of his lavatory dungeon –– and of course the first person who he sees is Jake.
At this point, he’s just silently preparing himself to see you and him be all flirty and couple-y again.
Except, when Sunghoon gets closer, he realizes that Jake isn’t with you –– but another girl?
He immediately paused in his tracks, watching what was happening in front of him. Sunghoon was confused, where were you? Why weren’t you with Jake? And most importantly, what is Jake doing with another girl?
Should he say something? He should go up to him and stop him, right? But is that the best thing to do? What even is Jake doing?
The longer Sunghoon looks, the more uncertain he becomes. Jake seems a little too close to the girl, even if they aren’t kissing or doing anything… but why doesn’t this seem right to him?
Would this be considered cheating? Nothing sexual seems to be happening, just a bunch of teasing arm grabbing and touching.
But that wasn’t you, and you’re his girlfriend. If it wasn’t cheating, it still had to be fucking weird. Sunghoon was infuriated. Jake got the girl but can’t even treat her right?
He knew then that he had to leave before he made a scene.
When he came back downstairs, he couldn’t help but feel suffocated. There were too many people, the air was stuffy, it reeked of alcohol, and the soles of his shoes were too sticky to stay inside any longer. So he decided to step outside instead.
Sunghoon sat on a curb a couple of feet away from the fraternity, but still far enough that he wouldn’t be disturbed by booming bass or intoxicated party-goers. He figured he’d stay outside till his friends decide they’ve had enough with partying –– he wasn’t really feeling the vibe of the function anyways.
At one point, Sunghoon decided to just lay down on the pavement because he was drunk and he can. Out of boredom he began counting how many streetlights ran up and down the street, eventually dozing off in the process.
Coming out of a hazy state, all Sunghoon could hear was his name being repeated multiple times. When he opened his eyes, he came face-to-face with you.
You give a big sigh of relief, “Oh thank god, I thought you died for a second dude. Don’t scare me like that!”
“What? …y/n?” Sunghoon rubs his eyes, “Sorry, I accidentally um, fell asleep I think.”
You laugh while Sunghoon fixes his posture and sits up right again, “Can I sit beside you?”
To be honest, Sunghoon still kinda feels foggy in his half-woken drunk state, so he can’t really think properly, “Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” He pats on the ground beside him. You take a seat, bringing your chin to your knees, playing with the gravel beneath you.
“Are you not having fun?” You ask.
Sunghoon looks straight ahead and shakes his head, “Not really feeling it today.”
You nod in agreement, continuing to collect pebbles with your right hand.
After a beat, Sunghoon turns to look at you, “Hey, I, um, need to tell you something important.”
“Hmm? What is it?”
He lets a deep exhale out before bringing himself to speak again, “I saw Jake inside with another girl. They weren’t like, doing anything but it’s just weird –– I don’t know if this is cheating but I thought I should tell–”
Your eyes stay fixed on the ground, “I know.”
Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows at you, “What do you mean?”
“That’s why we were arguing last week. This has always been an issue with him, even if it isn’t physically cheating.”
Sunghoon didn’t know this. All he could hear during your arguments with Jake was the volume of the TV on max. Carefully, he asked, “Is this… not the first time?”
“No.”
You almost feel ashamed that you’re confessing this all to Sunghoon. You’re scared of what he’d think of you. You already know what he’s like, what he’s probably thinking of you at this moment. You’re aware of how pathetic you sound right now.
Before he could even think about what he was saying, he blurted it all out, “I don’t get it, then why don’t you just break up with him? Isn’t what he’s doing bothering you?”
That night, you and Sunghoon found out something about each other: the two of you probably shouldn’t be together while drunk.
“...I don’t know. Wouldn’t breaking up with him mean that I won’t be able to see you anymore?”
“What? Why are you saying that?”
“If me and Jake end on bad terms, does that mean that you won’t be there for me anymore?”
⋆˚࿔
After Jake had dropped you off at your apartment that night last week, you realized you were more angry than sad. All of those tears had dried up, and now you were yelling on the phone.
“Why would he do this now when he had all that time last year and make a proper move! It’s not my fault he didn’t man up sooner!” You ranted on the phone.
You didn’t know what else to do except call Giselle and ask for some advice.
“I don’t get Sunghoon, he never did anything about us for so long and now he wants to tell me that he wanted me first?”
“Well, what are you going to do about it? You’re with his best friend now,” Giselle asks on the other side of the speaker.
You wipe your mascara-streaked eyes with a cotton pad, “I would have loved it if he told me all of that a year ago, that’s what I wanted. He missed his chance and now I’m just stuck in a sticky situation.”
“But, you love Jake right?”
“Yeah...” you murmured, “Right.”
Before you were with Jake, Sunghoon was the one you wanted most.
To you, Park Sunghoon was like this shiny, perfect Ken doll that you wanted so badly but couldn’t get no matter what.
Contrary to popular belief, you had made your advances towards him –– just in different ways. So you actually never knew if he caught on or not. Over time it seemed like Sunghoon really had no interest in you at all, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t heartbroken over it at all.
You decided to move on after being sure that nothing would happen with you and Sunghoon. In all honesty, you were never that interested in Jake at the beginning.
It was always him starting conversations, making plans. And after a while, you started getting used to Jake’s company.
But for some reason, the closer you got with Jake, the further Sunghoon seemed to get. At the time, you knew not to think any more about you and Sunghoon –– it wasn’t happening and that’s final.
You came to learn that Jake was a pretty outgoing and talkative guy, the complete opposite of Sunghoon.
When Jake finally asked you to be his girlfriend, you won’t lie. You were taken aback. It’s true, you do like Jake… but what about Sunghoon? Were you really over this crush? Are you going to have to be around him all the time because he’s Jake’s best friend? You didn’t know if you could do that.
You snap back into reality when you remind yourself that Sunghoon just doesn’t like you like that.
And it wasn’t like you didn’t like Jake at all. So, you gave him a chance.
Sim Jake was extroverted, polite, and friendly –– maybe a little too friendly. Being in social settings with him almost felt exhausting sometimes. He was the kind of guy that was able to go up to anyone and be able to talk to them.
The first time he ever got too friendly with a girl, you tried to ignore it. You made excuses for him like, that’s just the way he is, maybe I’m being an overbearing girlfriend.
But then it happened a second time, then a third time, then it just kept going.
This was the main reason for most of your arguments.
The start of your arguments often looked like this: the two of you would go somewhere, Jake would get a little too close, a little too talkative to a girl, and you had to wait till you guys were alone to bring up your concerns.
“Jake, I just really don’t like how overly friendly you are with other girls. It makes me feel weird as your girlfriend.”
Jake doesn’t seem to be taking the conversation seriously, “C’mon, y/n you’re the only girl I have eyes for.”
You shrug, sitting on the edge of his bed, “Can’t you just, I don’t know, not… do that? I really don’t like it.”
He tenses his forehead, fixing his position on the bed, “...do you not trust me?”
Your eyes widen in shock, “No! That’s not what I’m saying at all!”
And that’s essentially how you and Jake got into that huge argument last week.
What a mess.
⋆˚࿔
When Sunghoon woke up the day after the frat party, he was met with constant panging in his head. He only remembers little bits and pieces of the night and genuinely cannot, for the life of him, remember how he even got home that night.
It was only till after breakfast that he found out Sunoo had called him a Uber home after he spotted him crying alone on the curbside.
Why was he even crying? He can’t remember, no matter how hard he tries to pull it out of his memory, nothing comes out.
Sunghoon’s roommates were usually out and about on Saturdays, so he decided to dedicate his Saturdays to self-care –– which in Sunghoon’s case, means watching cute videos of animals and yelling at his teammates over the mic that they suck ass all day.
He couldn’t even do that because of all that banging inside his head. Even after taking some Tylenol, it just wouldn’t stop pounding. So Sunghoon decided he should try to sleep it out on the couch.
After a couple of minutes of tossing and turning, Sunghoon finally found some tranquility –– but this was ruined the second he heard their apartment door slam shut.
Sunghoon almost fell off of the couch due to the sound, “What the fuck are you slamming doors for in the afternoon?”
When he looks up to see which one of his roommates almost broke their door down, he sees Jake –– his expression annoyed and Sunghoon’s presence totally ignored. Jake slams his own door shut without saying a word.
Sunghoon always knew not to bother Jake when he was upset and to just wait for him to feel better, so instead he sent a couple texts to Heeseung and Jay asking what’s up with Jake.
SUNGHOON
What’s up with Jake
He just came in slamming doors looking pissy and my head fucking hurtssss
JJONGSAENG
think he and y/n broke up
HEESEUNG
U being deadass?
JJONGSAENG
yeah but jake didn’t tell me tho
heard thru the grapevine
u know how fast rumours spread on campus
but pretty sure they did i’ll ask him later
Upon reading these texts Sunghoon sat up immediately. All those times he prayed for you and Jake to break up finally came into fruition. But was it right for him to be celebrating like this? Jake’s still his best friend after all.
His thumb hovers over your contact on his phone –– but what was he even going to do? Say, hey heard you and Jake broke up, I’m sorry. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I'll be waiting?
He felt incompetent and stupid thinking about this, so he just turned off his phone and kept trying to sleep.
Later that night, Sunghoon found out that you broke up with him and not the other way around. Sunghoon tried really hard not to smile when Jake was explaining what had happened between the two of them to their roommates.
They found out that you had broken up with him after he said, quote, “...she saw me with another girl at the frat and got so fucking upset about something and the fact that I was ‘acting out’ at the party, then she left without a word. It wasn’t until this morning she texted asking me to come over to talk. I didn’t know she was gonna break up with me?!”
At the frat? Was it the one Sunghoon had seen him with when he left the bathroom?
Truthfully, Sunghoon had been waiting for a text from you even though he knew it wouldn’t happen. After a week went by without hearing from you, he gave up on waiting.
Jake was up and running again in no time. He was the kind of person that could easily bounce back from adversities. He did admit, however, that he tried reaching out to you multiple times but never got a reply.
Sunghoon kept getting deja vu, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what’s so familiar –– until it clicked. Remnants of the night slowly started popping up again.
“What do you mean ‘I won’t be there for you anymore?’” Sunghoon asked you on the curb.
You turn your head on your knees to face him now, “I mean, would I lose you for good if Jake’s not in the picture anymore?”
Sunghoon didn’t know if he was absolutely plastered or if these words were actually coming out of your mouth right now.
“No,” Sunghoon shook his head, “No you won’t.”
The corners of your mouth turn upward, “Okay.” You stand up and brush off all the gravel from your clothes, “Are you going to be alright?”
His eyes stay fixed on you, nodding.
“Well,” you sigh, dusting your hands off, “I have to go back to the party. Text me, okay?”
Sunghoon was even more confused now –– on top of already being drunk and overly emotional –– so he burst out in tears. He tried his hardest to keep the tears from spilling out but the floodgates just wouldn’t close.
It wasn’t even just the whole him, you, and Jake situation that caused this –– it was also all the emotions that he had been building up for years.
Being Park Sunghoon –– stuck-up, critical, nitpicky, and insufferable since birth –– was hard.
⋆˚࿔
Sunghoon found himself stuck in a dilemma. On one hand, he has Jake, his best friend, and on the other hand he has you –– but he wants both.
It seems like an easy decision, right? Jake’s his best friend, so ultimately he’s gotta kick the girl to the curb –– except Sunghoon doesn’t want just anyone, he wants you.
He knew trying finding someone like you would be impossible.
It was truly a newfound feeling when he had experienced butterflies for the first time. He’s honestly never felt this deeply about a girl before.
So what else can he do but text you when you ask him to? …two weeks later after mustering up the courage to open up your messages on his phone.
SUNGHOON
Hey
How have you been?
YOU
hey!!!!
u finally texted me
i’ve been good thanks for asking
Sunghoon taps his foot on the ground, biting his nails, thinking about what else he could say to you to keep the conversation going.
SUNGHOON
That’s good
I know a lot has happened the past two weeks
You assume he’s referring to you and Jake breaking up. The two of you haven’t seen each other since Alpha Epsilon Pi’s mixer.
Admittedly, the last conversation you had with Sunghoon really cleared a lot of the looming thoughts you had stuck in your brain.
It’s been two weeks since you broke up with Jake.
It’s also been two weeks since Sunghoon told you that you wouldn’t lose him for good.
YOU
yea
we should catch up
let’s have a drink together like old times :))
⋆˚࿔
Like old times.
Sunghoon sat in a booth at his local university pub, just like he would last year. Waiting for you all the time.
In truth, Sunghoon couldn’t shake off the nerves of seeing you again after a while –– so to curb his anxiety he ordered two beers. One for you and one for himself. Well, at least that’s what he intended at first, but after he finished his bottle he still felt nervous so he drank “yours.”
You aren’t even late to meet him, he’s just way too early.
Ah fuck, he thought. If you still weren’t here and he’d already drank his own beer and “your” beer, and the two of you were meeting for drinks –– wouldn’t that suggest they were going to get multiple drinks?
Sunghoon covered his mouth, murmuring to himself silently, “Oh my god, how drunk am I gonna get. I can't embarrass myself.” (Spoiler alert, he wasn't actually that drunk throughout the night, definitely just the placebo effect).
You actually arrive 10 minutes before your meeting time thinking you’d be early, but you were surprised when you saw Sunghoon sipping beer by himself, “Hey! You’re really early.”
“Yeah,” Sunghoon grins, “I guess you are too. How have you been?”
You seat yourself on the other side of the booth, “Well,” you sigh, “you already know what’s been going on with me and Jake.”
Sunghoon flinched at the mention of Jake’s name. Oh god, now he really was going to have a nervous breakdown. In the midst of this all, Sunghoon actually forgot about Jake in the equation.
Is it appropriate to be meeting his now ex-girlfriend for drinks? Like, just two of them? But wait, Sunghoon was friends with y/n way before him so would this be justified? Whatever, he needs a drink.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that.”
You figured you probably shouldn't have brought that up and sheepishly smiled, “Why would you be sorry? Let’s order some drinks!”
After three more beers, a long island iced tea, and a mojito later, it was safe to say you and Sunghoon had all the alcohol courage you could get.
The two of you were laughing about, god knows what, for the past two hours –– but the topic of conversation never mattered between you and him. You could talk to him about anything.
You stretch your arms up, “Do you think we should leave?” you and Sunghoon turn to look around the pub and realize they’re getting ready for closing.
Sunghoon ended up paying for all the drinks which made you feel giddy and thankful because your drinks were $15 each and you weren’t planning on going broke that night.
Outside of the pub, you and Sunghoon kept the laughter going. God, it’s been so long since you’ve hung out with him like this. You never realized how much you missed him.
“So…” Sunghoon drags out, “is this goodbye?”
You fish for your phone in your purse to check the time, “Wanna keep talking and have drinks at my place?”
He smiles at you, gesturing to the sidewalk ahead, “Lead the way Missy.”
When you finally arrive at your apartment, you push the door open and welcome him in, “My humble abode.”
Sunghoon had never been to your apartment before. Back then he thought it would be creepy and invasive if he asked to hang out at yours instead. He always knew you were a nostalgic and sentimental person, but your apartment unit really personified it. You kept all of the cheerleading medals you had stacked up in high school years ago, your fridge filled with photos of you and your loved ones, you even had a pile of every birthday card you’ve received in the corner of your desk.
Without meaning to, Sunghoon found himself meddling around your apartment inspecting everything you possessed. He wanted to know what you were like before he met you –– he wanted to know everything he could about you.
A finger taps on Sunghoon’s shoulder making him jolt, “You snooping around?” you tease.
He stammers, “No– sorry, I– I was just curious.”
You chuckle and walk towards the kitchen to grab some more drinks, “I’m just kidding, Hoon.”
Exactly like a loyal golden retriever would, he followed behind you quietly. You pass him a bottle of beer and take a sip of your seltzer. You prop yourself up the counter, legs lightly swinging from the ground, “So…”
In front of you, he puts a hand in his pocket and takes a swig of beer with the other, “...so” he repeats.
At this point, the alcohol wore off from the walk back to yours. Both of you were the right amount of buzzed –– giggly drunk.
“But seriously, how have you been? Like truthfully.” you ask.
Sunghoon tries to think hard about it –– but he’s always stuck to the same routine he’s had for the past three years. He scratches the back of his neck, “I dunno, life’s been the same as always. Wake up, eat, sleep, repeat all over again.”
You tilt your head, “Same old Sunghoon, doesn’t it get tiring sometimes?”
“What does? The routine?”
“No,” you fiddle with your fingers, “bottling everything up.”
Sunghoon’s surprised by your answer. He wonders what makes you think that, “What do you mean?”
You chug the remaining of your seltzer, “It’s just– it seems like you had a lot on your plate recently.”
At first, he wonders what you’re referring to. If he thinks hard about it, all he does is study, go to the gym, and play games. But when he finally realized what you were talking about he started getting flustered.
“...are you asking me this because of the conversation we had three weeks ago?”
He still remembers that night vividly. It had rained during the day, releasing the smell of petrichor and wet grass. The pavement hadn’t dried up yet where they stood –— he remembered because he kept his head down after Jake came to console you. He also remembers how he felt when he heard Jake come back from dropping you off. Straight guilt.
He laid in bed that night wondering what kind of “best friend” he was to say all of those things to you as if you weren’t dating Jake then.
But now he’s standing in front of you, at your apartment, in your cramped kitchen, a little too close to each other.
“...yeah, sorry,” you apologize, “it seemed like you had a lot on your mind then.”
Sunghoon steps a bit closer, slightly wedged in between your legs, “I did have a lot on my mind then.” he confessed.
Not once breaking eye contact with you, he takes a final swig of his beer before he lightly places the empty bottle on the counter.
“Would you tell me if I asked?” you let him slide in between your thighs.
He boxes you in when he places both hands on the counter beside you, “I’d do anything you ask, y/n. You know that.”
You could hear the water drip from the kitchen faucet with how quiet it was.
“What about now? Do you still have a lot on your mind?”
Sunghoon pretends to ponder about it for a second before answering.
“Yeah.”
“...what are you thinking about right now?”
He only looks at you, fixing your hair before tucking a strand behind your ear.
“Whether this is a good idea or not.”
Sunghoon slowly leans in, almost as if he’s asking for permission before making a move –– and when you wrap your arms around his neck, he takes it as a green light and presses his lips against yours.
He thinks he’s dreamt about this moment his entire university career; what it would be like kissing you. Well now he knows. He knows that your lips taste like the cherry chapstick you always wear, that you kiss him softly, and that you get all handsy while making out.
You drag your hand gently down Sunghoon’s chest and you assume he liked that considering you can feel him smiling on your lips.
So you begin to outline his entire body. You trace your fingers along his jaw, the curvature of his abs, his biceps. You gently tug on his hair which elicits a small groan from him. You’re everywhere, you were ravenous.
All that time back then, when you’d pine over ice prince Park Sunghoon and throw hints at him here and there –– he never got the message though.
But now you’re here, kissing Sunghoon, and you just can’t get enough –– and it seems like he can’t either.
Sunghoon caresses the outline of your waist, fingers slightly skimming up your skin, when he pulls away to pepper light kisses on your neck, “you know,” he mumbled, "I've been waiting for this moment ever since we first met.”
A small moan escapes your lips when he starts licking behind your ear, “Hoon,” you breathe out, “...do you want to go to my bedroom?”
He swears he can see stars now from how lightheaded he feels right now. He can’t even process that what’s happening is actually happening.
Is this real life?
Instead of exchanging words, he lets his body talk, picking you up from the counter walking towards your room, where he lays you down with the utmost care –– like you were his most prized possession.
Cautiously, he asks, “Do you really wanna…”
“Yes. I do.” You shut him up with a kiss, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. You knew he understood the memo when he pulled away to throw his shirt to the ground.
He falls back into you, moving his knee between your thighs when he cups your face to kiss you again. This time, it’s messy, it’s desperate. Sunghoon wants to explore every inch of you, learn how your mind works, what you’ve experienced in life, what you haven’t, what you want to. He slides his tongue like he’s going to devour you.
Slowly, he peeled off all your clothes one-by-one until you’re left in your undergarments. You wish you had known what your plans were gonna be tonight otherwise you would’ve surely put on some better lingerie.
Sunghoon doesn’t give a fuck though, you were laying in front of him undressed and beautiful, how could he focus on something so miniscule when he has you all to himself? …but he also didn’t care because it’s going to come off anyways.
He unclasps your bra, exposing your bare chest. His kisses trailed from your throat all the way to your inner thighs. Now he was perched in between your legs next to your clothed pussy. He smirked when he saw how soaked your panties were, “You get this wet for me?”
You cover your eyes using your forearms out of embarrassment, “Just stop teasing, Hoon.”
“Hoon.”
God he loved hearing you call him by that nickname, he could feel his dick getting impossibly hard in his boxers. He’s going to absolutely destroy you.
Sunghoon delicately took off your panties before spreading your legs wider. He could see the slick from your pussy drooling onto the sheets already, and he swore he almost moaned.
You bite your bottom lip when he starts to place light kisses onto your pussy. He dragged his tongue from your fluttering hole to your clit. Park Sunghoon was a starved, starved man. He attaches himself onto your clit. He works his tongue until he gets you moaning, and when he’s decided he wants to hear you moan louder for him, he plunges two fingers in without warning.
Now he was knuckle deep inside of you, and those moans just kept escaping from your mouth, gradually getting louder and louder –– you pray you don’t get a noise complaint by the end of tonight. He pumps his fingers with vigor, eventually finding your most sensitive spot.
He’s still lapping at your pussy while he massages your spongy G-spot. Sunghoon assumes he’s doing a great job since your legs are shaking …and also because you keep cheering him on like he’s a D1 athlete, “Ffffuck… Hoon– Please just– don’t stop. K–keep going!”
When you start to thrash around he tightens his grip on your plush thigh, continuing to work his tongue and fingers inside of you. He could tell you were about to cum from the fact that your pussy kept pulsing while his fingers were in deep.
“W– Wait,” You grab onto the sheets, “Hoon wait, I think– I feel like I’m gonna pee.”
“So what? Just relax and let it out.”
You do what he says, your juices coating his tongue. You watched him suck up every drop. The squelching sound was filthy, his fingers still scissoring you open. He brings himself up to lick at your neck while his fingers stay buried inside of your pussy, “You like that?”
What a freak.
You never expected Park Sunghoon of all people acting this way in bed.
Your mouth drops open, nodding in agreement, “Uh huh…” Your breathing pattern still off from your last orgasm, “I fucking love it.”
He sucks at your neck, “Atta girl,” his fingers finally pull out of your cunt, dragging his hand up to one to fondle with one of your titties, “You gonna let me fuck you then?”
“Please.”
His lips curled into a devilish smirk, pulling out his cock out from his sweatpants. Teasingly, he raises his eyebrows at you, hand holding his cock –– silently curious about whether you could take the dick or not.
Saliva started pooling on the corners of your mouth and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. Sunghoon takes one good look at your swollen clit and puffy lips before he aligns himself at your entrance.
You’re horny and throbbing, you can barely hold your patience while Sunghoon seems to look extremely entertained taunting you by slightly pushing the head in before pulling out. He grabs ahold of your hips, bringing you closer to him.
You laid there biting your nails wondering if he’s ever going to actually fuck you when he slides his cock inside your pussy inch-by-inch without warning. He starts thrusting in and out, grabbing your face to sloppily kiss you. All that drool you’ve accumulated from your past orgasm had been licked clean from your mouth to your chin.
Sunghoon was insatiable. He started kneading your titties, his dick still fucking you nice and open. You probably still don’t know that he hadn’t even put the entire thing in yet. He starts rolling your nipples in between his knuckles before pinching them –– bottoming out completely at the same time.
You just had to lay there and take it. Everything hurt but felt so good at the same time. You hear the schlick-schlick-schlicking sound coming from his dick relentlessly pounding into your drenched pussy.
“Mmphf! Wait, Hoon it f– feels ssoo… good.” You manage to whimper out.
He was inside so raw, so deep. You thought he was inside of you to the hilt, but when he pressed your thighs against your chest, he found a new angle and somehow managed to fuck you even deeper. You could feel his fat tip battering up against your cervix with every pump –– genuinely becoming scared at one point that his cock would slide into your womb. Your moans echoed throughout your apartment unit. It honestly sounds like pornstars having sex in here.
When Sunghoon felt your walls clamp down on his dick, he knew that you were about to cum soon. He began to really pound into you now, using his thumb to rub on your clit. It felt like he really did stretch you out. You look down at where the two of you connect and you cum at the sight of his cock plunging into you, forming a ring of milky white cum during the process.
Sunghoon groans at how tight your pussy walls squeeze him in as he fucks you through your second orgasm. You were already so overstimulated; his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive clit, his cock deep inside you, your nipples being rolled and pinched. You couldn’t take it anymore.
Your whole body is quivering at this point and Sunghoon is still spearing you in half. You push at his chest, “W– Wait, hold on.”
He pulls out and looks at you with a cocky smirk on his face, “What’s wrong, baby? Can’t take the dick?”
You pant out, “I just…” You bring your hands to your legs, attempting to stop them from shaking, but it’s no use, “...I just need a second.”
“You tapping out?” he tuts.
Despite having to take a quick breather, you quickly shake your head no.
You crawl towards him now, wrapping your warm hands on the base of his cock. He groans at your touch and revels in it. You lick the tip like it’s candy.
You wait till he lets out a couple more groans before you finally wrap your lips around him and slowly slide his cock down deeper into your throat, stroking the rest with a hand.
A sense of satisfaction washed over you when you looked up to see Sunghoon with his hair tussled, head thrown back, mouth agape. It only pushed you to do more. You relax your throat to prepare for the intrusion, gliding his cock down lower and lower. Sunghoon gently grabs a fistful of your hair enough to keep his balance. All you could hear were his groans of pleasure.
You try to keep all of him in your mouth for as long as you humanely could before pulling away from his shaft, sucking a big breath of fresh air in.
You could see his eyes darken, “Turn around for me.”
Confused but still compliant, you follow his orders and turn your back against him. He places his hand on your lower back, moving it up your spine to delicately push you back onto the bed. He grabs ahold of your hips, perching them up.
Now you were face down, ass up on your bed.
Sunghoon smoothed the arch of your back with his calloused palm, finding its place at the nape of your neck. He growls lowly in your ear, “You gonna be good for me?”
“Uh huh,” you manage to get out.
He removes his hand at your neck, giving your ass a squeeze before entering inside you again. He hammers into you with the same drive and vigor, steadying your legs when he feels them start to tremor again.
You melt under his touch, the curve of his dick hitting that sensitive spot once again. The sound of your moans pushed him to go even further. He lands his two hands on the moons of your ass, spreading them wide open to see his wet dick pound into your dripping pussy, sliding deeper till he feels the resistance.
“Aargh,” he groans, swiping his thumb over the rim of your other hole.
“Fuuuck…” you whine out loud.
Sunghoon watches himself disappear in between your glistening pussy lips. The sheets beneath you two were pooled with your slick, you couldn’t control your moans anymore –– you knew you were about to give out and cum again any minute now.
Your pussy just squeezes him in right, he could keep fucking you all night. You push against him, fucking yourself on his cock when he starts laughing, “How bad do you want it, baby?”
You roll your hips on him, “I want it… bad.” you mewl.
He presses himself balls deep inside of you just to watch you struggle and grind on him to desperately reach your nth orgasm tonight. He caresses your asscheek when he’s decided he’s had enough fun watching you use him like a fuck toy.
Sunghoon starts thrusting into you again, slow and deep this time, jolting your body forward on the bed with each pump of his dick. When you feel him twitch inside of you, you knew his release was close –– his groans getting louder.
He starts pounding into you again relentlessly, feeling your gummy walls hugging him tight. You could feel him chasing his orgasm. His hand snakes its way to your lower stomach, brushing against the bulge of his bulbous cockhead before he presses down on it. The added pressure made your eyes roll back, gripping onto anything you could.
“Hoon… I’m gonna– I’m gonna cum.” you cry out.
“Then do it.”
You let yourself go, cumming so hard on his cock, you swore you were about to blackout from the feeling of immense pleasure.
He fastens the speed of his thrusts; you feel them become messy and sloppier. You hear his breathing getting ragged when he pulls out, stroking himself as thick ropes of sticky, white, cum spill onto your ass. You lay still on the mattress, still panting when Sunghoon finishes milking out every drop of cum.
Sunghoon uses the back of his hand to wipe off the sweat dripping down his forehead, “Wait,” he breathes out, promptly leaving the room to come back with a towel. He cleans you up when you start chuckling out loud.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, moving your hair out of your face.
“No, it’s just I haven’t had good sex in a while.” you giggle.
Confused, he asks, “Wait but, haven’t you…”
“Me and Jake never had sex.” you confessed.
Sunghoon’s eyes widened, “But– I heard you… in his room–”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you look at him, face puzzled, “Maybe we were watching a movie?”
He decides to drop the topic and just be glad instead. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him, “I wish I’d done something sooner.”
Snug against his arms, you chirp, “Well, why didn’t you? I was throwing hints all the time!”
Now Sunghoon didn’t know this, “...what do you mean ‘throwing hints?’”
You playfully slap against his chest, “Freshman and sophomore year I was waiting for you to make a move but you never did! So I just assumed you didn’t like me like that and tried to move on…”
One thing about Sunghoon was: he wasn’t really good with social cues. He was always in his own little bubble doing his own thing. But now that he thinks about it, you were pretty obvious –– it just didn’t click to him back then.
The two of you ended up dozing off after talking for hours, and before you knew it, the sun was up again.
Both of you were awoken by a couple of hard knocks at your door.
Sunghoon yawns, “Who’s at your door this early?”
Half-awake, you slip into some clothes you find scattered on the floor, “I’m not sure, maybe a package I ordered?” You rub your eyes, “These FedEx guys always deliver packages so early.”
You quickly leave the room to see who’s at your apartment door. While waiting, Sunghoon props himself up against your headboard, reaching for his phone. He placed a hand behind his head while he started scrolling through his missed notifications. For some reason, Sunghoon felt like he was forgetting something –– he wasn’t sure what.
Something was off, but he couldn’t quite pin what it was. Was he just being paranoid? He bagged the girl of his dreams, he just had amazing sex, and now he’s waiting for you in your bed shirtless, boxers on.
He tries to run through his mental to-do list in his head: he already submitted his assignments, it’s the weekend so he doesn’t have any classes, his rent isn’t due till next month, he did his laundry yesterday –– so why did he feel like he was forgetting something?
Sunghoon hears your voice echo throughout the apartment, “Jake! What are you doing here?”
Oh shit.
kay's note: r/amitheasshole which one of them do you think is the biggest asshole: sunghoon, jake, reader, or all of them, cause i was lowkey thinking about it myself but i'm not too sure either
✦ Summary — You’re the life of every party, the center of every group, and the girl everyone notices— but one day your best friend bets you can’t make the school’s resident nerd fall for you. Only problem? He’s brilliant, socially awkward, and completely oblivious… which works perfectly when you ask him to tutor you. What starts as a harmless bet turns into something neither of you saw coming. Could the fake love be real all this time?
✦ Genre — strangers to lovers (kind of), slow burn, university AU, romance, angst with happy ending, smut
✦ Word count — 29.6k
✦ Warnings — explicit sexual content (MDNI), penetrative sex, oral (male & female receiving), semi-public sex, multiple encounters, strong language, alcohol & smoking, party culture, emotional manipulation (bet trope), betrayal & trust issues, crying/emotional distress, brief social media harassment mention, heavy angst
✦ Now playing — Electric Love by BØRNS
✦ Authors note — Okay so this fic has been living in my head rent free for way too long and i finally sat down and wrote it. This got away from me (nearly 30k, oops) but i hope every word is worth it. Reader is intentionally flawed because the messiness is the point. Listen to the assigned song for this while you read, especially the middle parts, you’ll understand. As always comments, likes and reblogs mean the world. Enjoy the angst, you’re welcome in advance.💞
My masterlist
The bass thrums through your body like a second heartbeat, vibration crawling up from the soles of your heels and settling somewhere in your chest. You’re three drinks in—something sweet and deceptively strong that Mina mixed in the kitchen—and the party is exactly where you like it: chaotic, loud, and utterly yours.
You stand near the center of the living room, red solo cup dangling from your fingers, wearing a black crop top that barely qualifies as a shirt and a skirt short enough that you’d tugged it down twice on the walk over. Not that you care. You know you look good. The stares confirm it, the way eyes track you when you move through a room, the way conversations pause just slightly when you laugh.
“Babe!” Mina’s voice cuts through the music, and you turn to see her shoving her way through a cluster of drunk business majors, her own outfit just as devastating as yours—a tight red dress that clings in all the right places. She’s holding two fresh drinks, wearing that wild grin that always means trouble.
You take the cup she offers, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”
“I’m bored,” she announces, taking a long sip. “This party’s gotten stale. Everyone here is so predictable.”
You glance around. She’s not wrong. Same people, same drama, same bullshit. Heeseung is doing keg stands in the corner while Jake hypes him up, Jay is flirting with some girl from your Econ lecture, and everyone else is just going through the motions of a typical Friday night.
“So what do you wanna do?” you ask, leaning against the wall. “Leave?”
“No.” Mina’s eyes glitter with mischief. “I want to make a bet.”
You laugh, already intrigued. Mina’s bets are legendary—last semester she’d dared you to steal a traffic cone from campus security, and you’d done it just to see the look on her face. “I’m listening.”
She leans in close, her breath smelling like vodka and cherry chapstick. “See that guy over there?”
You follow her gaze across the room. At first, you don’t see who she’s talking about—there’s too many people packed into the space—but then the crowd shifts, and you spot him.
Park Sunghoon.
He’s standing near the bookshelf, looking deeply uncomfortable in a neat button-up shirt and glasses, holding what appears to be a bottle of water. His posture is stiff, like he’s not sure what to do with his hands, and he’s nodding along to something Heeseung is saying with this polite, awkward smile.
You know who he is, obviously. Everyone does, but for different reasons than they know you. Where you’re known for the parties, the chaos, the way you light up every room you enter, Sunghoon is known for being the biggest nerd on campus. Statistics and Data Science major, perfect GPA, the guy everyone goes to when they’re desperate for tutoring. You’ve seen him around—usually in the library, hunched over a laptop, or walking to class with his nose in a textbook.
“The nerd?” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “What about him?”
“I bet you can’t make him fall for you.”
You almost choke on your drink. “What?”
Mina’s grin widens. “Come on. Look at him. He’s like… a different species. You really think someone like him would ever go for someone like you?”
There’s no malice in her words—this is just how you two operate, all teasing and challenge—but something about it pricks at your pride. “Someone like me?”
“You know what I mean. Party girl. Confident. Hot as fuck. He probably faints if a girl even looks at him.” She gestures toward Sunghoon, who is now adjusting his glasses and looking around like he’s searching for an escape route. “I don’t think he’s ever even been to a party before tonight. Heeseung probably dragged him here.”
You study Sunghoon more carefully. He’s taller than you expected, with sharp features that might actually be attractive if he didn’t look so perpetually nervous. His hair is neat, parted carefully, and his clothes scream “I iron my shirts on Sunday nights.”
“That’s the bet?” you ask, turning back to Mina. “Make him fall for me?”
“Yep. And I’m talking actual feelings. Not just him stuttering around you—I want him gone for you. Pining. Obsessed.”
You laugh, loud enough that a few people glance over. “That’s almost too easy.”
“Then you won’t mind putting money on it.” Mina pulls out her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. “Two hundred dollars says you can’t do it.”
Two hundred dollars. That’s not nothing—that’s a weekend trip, or a new pair of boots you’ve been eyeing, or enough drinks to not worry about your bank account for a month.
But more than that, it’s the principle. The idea that Mina thinks you can’t do something, that Park Sunghoon is somehow immune to you, needles at something deep and petty in your chest.
“You’re on,” you say, shaking her hand. “Two hundred dollars. And bragging rights.”
“Bragging rights,” Mina agrees, her grin turning wicked. “This is going to be so fun to watch.”
You drain the rest of your drink, feeling the alcohol warm and loose in your veins, and set the empty cup on the nearest surface. “How long do I have?”
“End of the semester,” Mina says. “That’s what, fourteen weeks? Should be plenty of time. If you’re as good as you think you are.”
“Please.” You flip your hair over your shoulder, already feeling the familiar thrill of a challenge. “I’ll have him obsessed with me by midterms.”
Mina cackles, pulling you into a quick hug. “God, I love you. Okay. Go work your magic.”
You glance back toward Sunghoon. He’s still standing with Heeseung and Jake now, looking like he’s barely contributing to the conversation. Jay has joined them too, and the contrast is almost funny—three effortlessly cool guys and one awkward nerd who looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.
The smart play would be to approach him tonight, start planting the seeds. But you’re tipsy and the party is loud, and you know first impressions matter. You need to do this right.
“Not tonight,” you say, turning back to Mina. “I need a strategy.”
“Ooh, strategic. I like it.”
“Monday,” you decide. “I’ll figure out his schedule, and I’ll make my move.”
Mina raises her fresh drink in a toast. “To the downfall of Park Sunghoon’s GPA and emotional stability.”
You clink your cup against hers, grinning. “He won’t know what hit him.”
Monday morning comes with a hangover you shake off in the shower and a determination that feels almost dangerous.
You dress carefully—a tight cropped sweater that shows a sliver of skin above your low-rise jeans, paired with heels that make your legs look longer. Your makeup is flawless, lips glossy, and you know you look good because your roommate actually stops mid-bite of her cereal to stare.
“Where are you going looking like that?” she asks.
“Library,” you say, grabbing your bag.
“The library?”
You just smile and head out.
You’d done your research last night, scrolling through social media and asking around until you had a decent sense of Sunghoon’s schedule. Turns out, he’s a creature of habit—every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he’s in the library from 9 AM to noon, tutoring students for credit. Something about needing volunteer hours for his degree, or maybe it’s for some honors society. You don’t really care about the why. You just need the when and where.
The library is quieter than usual, the Monday morning crowd sparse. You spot him almost immediately, sitting at one of the large tables near the windows, his laptop open and a stack of textbooks beside him. He’s alone right now, tapping away at his keyboard with the kind of focus that makes you think he’s probably forgotten the rest of the world exists.
You take a breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk over.
He doesn’t notice you at first. You have to actually stop in front of his table and clear your throat before he looks up, and when he does, his eyes widen slightly behind his glasses.
“Um,” he says, his voice soft and uncertain. “Hi?”
“Hi,” you say, flashing your most disarming smile. “You’re Park Sunghoon, right?”
“Uh. Yes?” He blinks up at you, clearly confused about why you’re talking to him. His gaze flickers down for just a second—taking in your outfit, probably—before snapping back to your face, his cheeks flushing pink.
Perfect.
“I heard you do tutoring,” you say, sliding into the chair across from him without waiting for an invitation. “For Statistics?”
“Oh.” His expression shifts slightly, relaxing into something more familiar. This is territory he knows. “Yeah, I do. Are you… do you need help with a class?”
“Desperately,” you lie, letting a little frustration creep into your voice. “I’m in STAT 400, and I’m completely lost. Like, I don’t even know where to start.”
STAT 400 is a class you could probably teach at this point—you’d aced it last semester—but he doesn’t need to know that.
Sunghoon nods, pulling out a notebook. “That’s a tough class. What specifically are you struggling with?”
You wave a hand vaguely. “Honestly? All of it. Probability distributions, hypothesis testing… I just can’t make it click, you know?”
He’s scribbling something down, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay. Yeah, I can definitely help with that. I tutor that class a lot, actually.”
“Really?” You lean forward slightly, resting your chin in your hand. “You’re a lifesaver. I was seriously worried I was going to fail.”
His eyes flicker to you again, and you can see him trying very hard not to stare. It’s almost endearing, the way he’s fighting to keep his focus on his notebook.
“So, um,” he says, clearing his throat. “When works for you? I usually do sessions twice a week, an hour each.”
“Whatever works for you,” you say easily. “I’m pretty flexible.”
He checks his phone, scrolling through what looks like a calendar. “How about… Tuesdays and Thursdays? 5 PM?”
“Perfect.” You pull out your own phone, typing in the times. “Should I meet you here?”
“Yeah, here’s good.” He looks up at you, and for a moment, you’re struck by how dark his eyes are behind those glasses. “Can I get your name? For my schedule.”
You tell him, and he types it into his phone, his fingers quick and precise.
“Got it,” he says, offering you a small, polite smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Looking forward to it.” You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder, and give him a little wave. “Thanks, Sunghoon.”
His blush deepens at the sound of his name, and you have to bite back a grin as you walk away. This is going to be easier than you thought.
You show up to the library on Tuesday at 4:55 PM, which is late enough to seem casual but early enough to seem eager. You’ve dressed down slightly from yesterday—a fitted long-sleeve shirt that still manages to show off your figure, paired with jeans that sit low on your hips. Still hot, but approachable. You’re playing a character here, and the character is a girl who’s struggling with statistics and needs help, not a girl who’s about to ruin someone’s life for two hundred dollars.
The guilt hasn’t hit yet. Right now, it’s still just a game.
Sunghoon is already at the same table by the windows, his laptop open and a thermos of what you assume is coffee beside him. He looks up when you approach, and you catch the tiniest flicker of surprise in his expression, like he half-expected you not to show.
“Hi,” you say, dropping your bag onto the table and sliding into the seat across from him.
“Hi.” He closes his laptop and pushes it aside, pulling out a notebook instead. “Ready to get started?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh. “Fair warning, I’m really bad at this.”
“That’s okay,” he says, and there’s something unexpectedly kind in his voice. “Everyone starts somewhere. Can you show me what you’re working on in class right now?”
You pull out your own notebook—you’d actually done some prep work last night, writing out problem sets from the STAT 400 syllabus you still have saved on your laptop. You’d deliberately gotten some of them wrong, made your handwriting a little messier than usual, added some confused notes in the margins. It has to look real.
Sunghoon takes the notebook and studies your work, his brow furrowing in concentration. His fingers tap against the edge of the paper, a nervous habit, and you notice that his nails are neatly trimmed, his hands surprisingly elegant for someone so awkward.
“Okay,” he says after a moment. “I see what’s happening here. You’re getting tripped up on the notation, I think. The concepts aren’t that complicated once you understand what the symbols actually mean.”
He flips to a blank page in your notebook and starts writing, his handwriting neat and precise. As he explains the basics of probability distributions, you force yourself to pay attention, nodding along and asking questions that someone who’s actually confused would ask.
“Does that make sense?” he asks after a few minutes, glancing up at you.
“I think so,” you say. “Can you go over that last part again?”
He does, patient and thorough, and you notice the way he relaxes slightly when he’s teaching. The nervousness fades, replaced by something that almost resembles confidence. This is where he’s comfortable—explaining things, breaking down complex ideas into manageable pieces.
It’s… not what you expected.
You’d thought this would be painful, sitting through tutoring sessions for a class you don’t need help with. But Sunghoon is actually a good teacher, and there’s something almost soothing about the way he talks through problems, his voice low and steady.
“Try this one,” he says, sliding the notebook back to you with a new problem written out.
You make a show of working through it, deliberately hesitating in places, second-guessing yourself. When you write down the final answer—which you know is correct—you look up at him uncertainly.
“Is that right?”
He checks your work, and a small smile crosses his face. “Yeah. That’s perfect.”
The praise shouldn’t feel as good as it does.
“Really?” You let yourself sound surprised, pleased.
“Really. You’re getting it faster than you think.”
You beam at him, and his cheeks flush pink again. He looks away quickly, clearing his throat.
“Let’s do a few more,” he says.
The hour passes faster than you expected. By the time Sunghoon checks his phone and announces that your session is up, you’re almost disappointed.
“Same time Thursday?” he asks, packing up his things.
“Yeah, definitely.” You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks, Sunghoon. You’re really good at this.”
“Oh. Thanks.” He ducks his head, and you catch the small smile on his face as he turns away.
As you walk out of the library, you pull out your phone and text Mina.
Session one: complete. He blushed like four times.
Her response is immediate: you’re evil. i love it.
Thursday’s session follows a similar pattern. You show up right on time, dressed in a crop top and high-waisted pants that make Sunghoon’s eyes widen for just a second before he forces his gaze back to his notebook. You work through more problems, ask more questions, let him guide you through concepts you already understand.
But this time, you start to push things slightly.
“God, I don’t know how you keep all of this straight in your head,” you say at one point, leaning back in your chair and stretching your arms above your head. The movement makes your shirt ride up slightly, exposing your stomach, and you don’t miss the way Sunghoon’s gaze flickers down before he quickly looks away.
“It’s just practice,” he says, his voice a little strained. “Once you do enough problems, it becomes automatic.”
“You must be so smart,” you say, propping your chin in your hand and looking at him with wide, admiring eyes. “Like, seriously. I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water in most of my classes, and you’re just… breezing through everything.”
He shifts uncomfortably. “I’m not that smart. I just work hard.”
“Don’t be modest.” You nudge his foot lightly under the table with yours, and he actually jumps a little. “You’re like, a genius. Everyone says so.”
“I’m really not,” he insists, but you can see the pleased flush creeping up his neck.
You let it drop, returning your attention to the problems in front of you, but you’ve planted the seed. Compliments, physical proximity, attention—these are the tools you know how to use.
Near the end of the session, as Sunghoon is explaining something about confidence intervals, you let your knee bump against his under the table. It’s brief, could be an accident, but you see the way he falters mid-sentence, his train of thought derailing completely.
“Sorry,” he says, blinking rapidly. “Where was I?”
“Confidence intervals,” you prompt, biting back a smile.
“Right. Yeah.” He takes a deep breath and continues, but his voice is slightly shakier now.
When the session ends, you pack up slowly, deliberately taking your time.
“Hey,” you say as he’s closing his laptop. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why do you tutor? Like, I know it’s for credit or whatever, but you’re already so busy. Don’t you ever just… want a break?”
He seems surprised by the question. “I don’t know. I guess I like helping people. And it’s good practice for me, too. Explaining things helps me understand them better.”
“That’s really nice,” you say, and you’re surprised to find that you actually mean it. “Most people wouldn’t go out of their way like that.”
He shrugs, looking uncomfortable with the praise. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is, though.” You give him a warm smile. “Anyway. Thanks again. I actually feel like I might not fail this class now.”
“You’re not going to fail,” he says firmly. “You’re doing really well.”
Something about the conviction in his voice makes your chest tighten, but you push the feeling aside.
“See you next week,” you say, heading toward the exit.
As you leave, you glance back and catch him watching you. He looks away immediately, his face flushing, and you can’t help the satisfied smile that crosses your face.
This is almost too easy.
By the third week of tutoring, you’ve established a routine. Tuesdays and Thursdays, 5 PM, the same table by the windows. Sunghoon is always there early, his materials already laid out, a thermos of coffee within reach. You’ve started to learn his habits—the way he taps his pen against the table when he’s thinking, the way he pushes his glasses up when he’s concentrating, the way he smiles when you get a problem right.
You’ve also started to push boundaries more deliberately.
You sit closer to him now, close enough that your arms brush when you’re both leaning over the same textbook. You ask him to show you how to work through problems on your laptop, which means he has to lean in close, his shoulder pressed against yours, his face inches from yours as he points at the screen.
He’s still nervous, still awkward, but he’s getting more comfortable with you. He makes eye contact more often, laughs at your jokes, occasionally offers comments that aren’t strictly about statistics.
“Are you going to the game on Saturday?” you ask during one session, glancing up from your notebook.
“Game?” He looks confused.
“The basketball game. Against State.”
“Oh. No, probably not. That’s not really my thing.”
“What is your thing?” you ask, genuinely curious despite yourself.
He thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. I like hiking, I guess. And I play chess online sometimes.”
“Hiking?” You raise an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the outdoorsy type.”
“Why not?” There’s a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
“I don’t know. You just seem like you’d rather be inside with a book.”
“I can like both,” he points out, and there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or challenge.
“Fair enough.” You grin. “Maybe you should take me sometime. I could use the exercise.”
His eyes widen. “Oh. Uh. I mean, if you want. There’s a good trail about twenty minutes from campus—”
“I’m kidding,” you say quickly, laughing. “Can you imagine me hiking? I’d die.”
“Right.” He laughs too, but it sounds slightly forced. “Yeah.”
You almost feel bad for teasing him, but you push the feeling aside. This is the point—keep him off balance, make him think about you, wonder about you.
Later in the session, when you’re both bent over a particularly complicated problem, you reach out to point at something on the page. Your hand brushes against his, and you let it linger for just a second longer than necessary before pulling away.
“Sorry,” you murmur.
“It’s fine,” he says, but his voice is tight, and when you glance at him, his jaw is clenched. Interesting.
After that session, as you’re walking back to your apartment, Mina calls.
“How’s Operation Nerd going?” she asks immediately.
“Good,” you say. “He’s definitely noticing me.”
“Noticing you, or noticing you?”
“Both, I think.” You push open the door to your building, nodding at a couple of girls you recognize from a party last weekend. “He’s still really awkward, but he’s warming up.”
“Have you guys hung out outside of tutoring yet?”
“No. I’m taking it slow.”
“Slow?” Mina sounds incredulous. “Babe, you have like eleven weeks left. You need to speed this up.”
“I know what I’m doing,” you say, climbing the stairs to your floor. “If I come on too strong, he’ll get suspicious. He’s not stupid.”
“Fine, fine. You’re the expert.” There’s a pause, and then: “Are you having fun, at least?”
The question catches you off guard. “What?”
“I mean, is this entertaining? Or is it just a chore?”
You think about the way Sunghoon’s face lights up when you get a problem right, the way he listens so intently when you talk, the way he’s slowly becoming less guarded around you.
“It’s fine,” you say eventually. “He’s not as boring as I thought he’d be.”
“High praise,” Mina says dryly. “Okay, well, keep me updated. I want all the details.”
After you hang up, you find yourself thinking about the question. Are you having fun?
The honest answer is yes. You are. And that should probably worry you more than it does.
The following Tuesday, something shifts.
You’re halfway through the session when Sunghoon’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, frowns, and then looks at you apologetically.
“Sorry, do you mind if I take this? It’s my friend.”
“Go ahead,” you say, waving him off.
He steps away from the table, phone pressed to his ear, and you watch as his expression shifts from confused to annoyed to resigned. When he comes back, he’s running a hand through his hair, making it stick up slightly.
“Everything okay?” you ask.
“Yeah, sorry. That was Heeseung. He’s having people over tonight and wanted to make sure I’m coming.”
“Are you?”
“I guess. He’ll give me shit if I don’t.” Sunghoon sits back down, but he seems distracted now, his usual focus scattered.
“You don’t sound excited,” you observe.
“Parties aren’t really my scene,” he admits. “Too loud, too crowded. I usually just end up standing in a corner wishing I was home.”
You laugh. “Then why go?”
“Because Heeseung, Jake, and Jay are my friends, and they actually want me there. I think.” He says it like he’s not entirely sure, and something about that makes your chest ache.
“They definitely want you there,” you say. “Those guys don’t do pity invites.”
He looks at you, surprised. “You know them?”
“Everyone knows them. We run in similar circles.” You lean back in your chair, studying him. “How’d you end up friends with them, anyway? No offense, but you’re not exactly the typical crowd they hang out with.”
“We lived in the same dorm freshman year,” Sunghoon says. “Heeseung and I got paired as roommates, and Jake and Jay lived down the hall. They kind of… adopted me, I guess. I don’t really know why.”
“Maybe because you’re cool,” you suggest.
He snorts. “I’m definitely not cool.”
“You’re cool in your own way.”
“That’s a nice way of saying I’m a nerd.”
“Being a nerd isn’t a bad thing,” you say. And then, before you can think better of it: “I’ll be there tonight, probably. At Heeseung’s thing. Maybe I’ll see you.”
The rest of the session is slightly stilted, both of you distracted by the knowledge that you’ll be in the same place later, outside the safe confines of the library. When you pack up to leave, Sunghoon clears his throat.
“Hey, um. Thanks. For saying that. About me being cool.”
You smile. “I meant it.”
And as you walk away, you realize with a start that you actually did.
Heeseung’s apartment is packed when you arrive just after ten, Mina in tow. The music is loud enough to make the walls vibrate, and the air is thick with the smell of beer and too many bodies in a small space.
“This is going to be good,” Mina says, already scanning the room. “Is your nerd here yet?”
“Don’t call him that,” you say automatically, and then catch yourself. Since when do you care?
Mina gives you a look but doesn’t comment. “Well? Do you see him?”
You crane your neck, looking over the crowd, and finally spot Sunghoon near the kitchen. He’s wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt—the most casual you’ve ever seen him—and he’s talking to Jay, looking significantly less uncomfortable than you’d expected.
“There,” you say, nodding toward him.
“Oh my god, he’s actually kind of hot when he’s not dressed like someone’s dad,” Mina says.
She’s not wrong. Without the button-ups and the overly neat hair, Sunghoon looks… different. Younger. More relaxed. And yeah, hot.
“I’m going over,” you say.
“Good luck,” Mina calls after you, already veering off toward the makeshift bar.
You weave through the crowd, dodging drunk dancers and people shouting over the music. When you reach the kitchen, you tap Sunghoon on the shoulder.
He turns, and his face lights up when he sees you.
“You came,” he says, and he sounds genuinely happy about it.
“I said I might,” you reply, grinning. “Hi, Jay.”
Jay gives you an appreciative once-over—you’re wearing a tiny black dress that leaves very little to the imagination—and nods. “Hey. You two know each other?”
“Sunghoon’s my tutor,” you say.
“Tutor?” Jay looks at Sunghoon with mock suspicion. “You didn’t tell me you were tutoring hot girls.”
Sunghoon’s face goes red. “It’s not—she needed help with stats—”
“I’m just giving you shit,” Jay says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go find Jake. You two have fun.”
He disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Sunghoon alone in the relative chaos of the kitchen.
“Want a drink?” you ask, already moving toward the counter where someone’s set up a chaotic array of bottles and mixers.
“I’m okay,” Sunghoon says, holding up a bottle of water.
“Of course you are.” You pour yourself something strong, turning back to him. “So. How are you surviving so far?”
“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” he admits. “Maybe because you’re here.”
The comment catches you off guard. It’s surprisingly bold for him, and when you meet his eyes, there’s something there you haven’t seen before—a flicker of confidence, maybe, or just the tiniest bit of flirtation.
“Smooth,” you say, taking a sip of your drink.
He looks immediately mortified. “Sorry, that was—”
“I’m kidding. It was sweet.” You step closer to him, close enough that you have to tilt your head back slightly to maintain eye contact. “You should let yourself relax more often. You’re less uptight when you do.”
“I’m uptight?” He sounds offended.
“A little,” you tease. “But it’s part of your charm.”
Before he can respond, someone cranks the music even louder, and the kitchen suddenly floods with people trying to escape the living room. You’re jostled forward, and Sunghoon reaches out instinctively to steady you, his hands landing on your waist.
For a moment, you’re pressed against him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, to see the way his pupils dilate slightly behind his glasses.
“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go immediately.
“It’s okay,” you murmur.
The moment stretches, tension coiling between you, and you realize with a jolt that your heart is beating faster. Not because you’re playing a role, but because he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it feels…
It feels good.
“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” he asks, his voice low.
You nod.
He takes your hand—his grip warm and surprisingly steady—and leads you out of the kitchen, through the crowd, and out onto the apartment’s small balcony. The noise fades to a dull roar as he slides the door shut behind you, and suddenly it’s just the two of you under the night sky.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.” You lean against the railing, looking out at the campus spread below. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He stands beside you, close but not touching, and for a few moments, neither of you speaks.
“Can I ask you something?” he says eventually.
“Sure.”
“Why did you come tonight? You said parties are your thing, so you probably had other options.”
You turn to look at him. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”
His breath catches. “Really?”
“Really.” You’re not sure if you’re lying anymore.
Sunghoon holds your gaze, and something shifts in the air between you. He takes a step closer, and your pulse spikes.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says softly.
“Me too,” you whisper.
And when he smiles—a real, genuine smile that makes his whole face light up—you feel something crack open in your chest.
This was supposed to be simple. Easy. A game.
But standing here with him, the city lights glittering below and his hand just inches from yours on the railing, you’re starting to realize that you might be in over your head.
Sunghoon is already at your usual table, but today there’s something different. Instead of his typical setup of laptop and textbooks, there’s a white paper bag and two coffee cups.
“Hi,” he says when you approach, and he looks almost nervous. “I, uh. I brought coffee. And pastries. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just guessed. I hope that’s okay.”
You stare at the cups, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in your chest. “You brought me coffee?”
“Yeah. You mentioned last week that you didn’t have time to grab any before our session, so I thought…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is that weird? That’s probably weird.”
“It’s not weird,” you say softly, sliding into your seat. “It’s really sweet.”
His face lights up, and he pushes one of the cups toward you. “It’s a vanilla latte. But if you don’t like it, I can—”
“Vanilla latte is perfect.” You take a sip, and it’s exactly the right temperature, exactly the right sweetness. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”
“You’re welcome.” He’s smiling now, that soft genuine smile that makes your heart do stupid things.
The session proceeds normally—problem sets, explanations, the comfortable back-and-forth you’ve developed—but the coffee and pastries feel like something more. Like he’s trying to take care of you in his own quiet way.
Halfway through, while you’re working on a problem, Sunghoon speaks up.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” you say, not looking up from your notebook.
“Why economics?”
You pause, pen hovering over the page. “What?”
“Your major. Why did you choose economics?”
No one has asked you that in a long time. Most people just assume you picked it because it’s practical, or because you wanted something that would make money, or because you didn’t know what else to do.
“I like understanding how things work,” you say slowly. “Like, why people make the decisions they make. What drives markets, what causes crashes, all of that. It’s like… a puzzle, I guess. And I’m good at puzzles.”
Sunghoon is looking at you with this intense focus, like he’s genuinely interested in your answer. “That’s really cool.”
“Yeah?” You feel oddly vulnerable suddenly.
“Yeah. Most people just say it’s for the money.”
“I mean, the money doesn’t hurt,” you joke, but it falls flat.
“I get it, though,” he says. “That’s kind of why I like statistics. Everything can be understood if you have enough data. The world makes sense when you can quantify it.”
You find yourself smiling. “We’re more similar than I thought.”
“Is that surprising?”
“A little,” you admit. “I thought you’d be all… I don’t know. Textbooks and equations and no personality.”
He laughs, a real laugh that makes his eyes crinkle. “Wow. Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” You’re laughing too now. “I just meant—you’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Boring? Uptight? But you’re actually…” You pause, searching for the right word. “You’re actually really easy to talk to.”
Sunghoon’s expression softens. “So are you.”
The moment hangs between you, charged with something you can’t quite name. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re sitting, how his knee is almost touching yours under the table, how easy it would be to just lean forward and—
Your phone buzzes, shattering the moment. It’s a text from Mina: party at sigma chi friday. you coming?
You type back a quick yeah probably and set your phone down, but the spell is broken. Sunghoon has already returned his attention to the textbook, his expression neutral.
The rest of the session passes normally, but something has changed. There’s a weight in the air now, a tension that wasn’t there before.
When you’re packing up to leave, Sunghoon clears his throat.
“Hey, um. Are you doing anything this weekend?”
Your heart skips. “Why?”
“There’s this new exhibit at the art museum. Photography from conflict zones. I thought it might be interesting, and I was wondering if… if maybe you wanted to go? With me?”
He’s asking you on a date. Park Sunghoon is asking you on an actual date.
You should say yes. This is perfect for the bet—spending time together outside of tutoring, building a connection, making him fall harder.
But the thought of it makes your stomach twist with something that feels uncomfortably like guilt.
“I can’t this weekend,” you say, and you’re not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed. “I have plans with friends.”
“Oh.” He tries to hide his disappointment, but you can see it in the way his shoulders slump slightly. “That’s okay. Maybe another time.”
“Yeah,” you say. “Another time.”
As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on your back, and you hate yourself a little bit.
Friday night comes, and you’re at the Sigma Chi house with Mina, three drinks deep and feeling reckless.
The party is packed, bodies pressed together in every room, music so loud you can feel it in your bones. You’re wearing your sluttiest dress—a tiny red thing that barely covers your ass—and you know you look good because you’ve been turning heads all night.
“There’s Jake,” Mina says, pointing toward the kitchen. “With Heeseung and Jay.”
“So?” you say, taking another sip of your drink.
“So, isn’t that Sunghoon’s friend group? Maybe he’s here.”
You scan the kitchen, but you don’t see Sunghoon anywhere. Just his three friends, laughing and drinking and looking effortlessly cool in a way Sunghoon never quite manages.
“I don’t think he’s here,” you say.
“Probably for the best,” Mina says. “You can actually have fun without worrying about the bet.”
But that’s the problem. You’re starting to realize that you have more fun with Sunghoon than without him.
You push the thought away and drain your drink. “I need another.”
The next hour is a blur of alcohol and dancing and the kind of mindless fun you usually thrive on. You dance with strangers, do shots with girls from your econ class, lose Mina somewhere in the crowd. And then Jake finds you.
“Hey,” he says, appearing at your elbow with that easy smile. “You look like you’re having a good time.”
“I am,” you say, and you realize you have to raise your voice to be heard over the music.
“Want to get some air? It’s hot as hell in here.”
You follow him out to the back porch, where it’s marginally quieter and cooler. There are a few other people out here, smoking and talking in low voices, but Jake leads you to a corner that’s relatively private.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.” You lean against the railing, looking up at him. Jake is attractive in an obvious way—tall, athletic build, sharp jawline. The kind of guy you’d normally go for without thinking twice.
“I’ve seen you around,” Jake says, moving closer. “You’re hard to miss.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Definitely.” His gaze drops to your lips, then back up. “You’re friends with Sunghoon, right?”
The mention of Sunghoon’s name sends a jolt through you. “He’s tutoring me.”
“That’s all?”
“What else would it be?”
Jake shrugs. “I don’t know. He talks about you a lot.”
Your heart stutters. “He does?”
“Yeah. He tries to be subtle about it, but it’s pretty obvious he’s into you.” Jake grins. “Can’t blame him.”
You should ask what Sunghoon says about you. You should care more about the implications.
But you’re drunk and Jake is hot and he’s leaning in, and when his lips meet yours, you don’t pull away.
The kiss is good—he knows what he’s doing, his hands confident on your waist—but it feels wrong somehow. Like you’re kissing the wrong person. When you break apart, Jake is smiling.
“Want to get out of here?”
“I—”
“There you are!”
You turn to see Mina stumbling out onto the porch, clearly wasted. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We need to go. Now.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m about to throw up and I need you to hold my hair.” She grabs your arm, pulling you away from Jake. “Sorry, Jake. Emergency.”
You let her drag you back through the party and out the front door, and it’s only when you’re halfway back to your apartment that you realize you’re relieved.
“Did I really interrupt something?” Mina asks, her words slurring slightly.
“Nothing important,” you say.
“Liar. That was Jake. He’s hot.”
“Yeah.”
“So why do you sound sad about it?”
You don’t have an answer.
Saturday morning, you wake up with a pounding headache and a feeling of vague dread that has nothing to do with the hangover.
You kissed Jake. Sunghoon’s friend. One of his only friends.
It shouldn’t matter. This is a bet. You’re not actually dating Sunghoon. You don’t owe him anything.
But the guilt sits heavy in your stomach anyway.
Your phone buzzes with a text from Sunghoon: Hey! I know you said you were busy this weekend, but if you have any free time tomorrow (Sunday), I’d love to show you that trail I mentioned. No pressure though!
You stare at the message for a long moment.
You should say no. You should keep your distance, maintain the boundaries of this fake tutoring relationship.
But instead, you type: Sure. What time?
His response is almost immediate: 10 AM? I can pick you up.
Sounds good.
You set your phone down and bury your face in your pillow, trying to ignore the voice in your head that’s asking what the hell you’re doing.
Sunday morning dawns clear and bright, and you find yourself actually putting effort into your outfit—athletic leggings, a fitted tank top, your hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Hiking clothes, but still cute.
Sunghoon picks you up at exactly 10 AM in a slightly beat-up Honda Civic that’s meticulously clean inside. He’s wearing athletic gear too, and without his glasses—he’s wearing contacts, he explains—he looks different. Younger. Even more attractive.
“You ready?” he asks as you buckle your seatbelt.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Fair warning, I haven’t hiked since high school.”
“It’s an easy trail,” he assures you. “More of a nature walk, really.”
The drive takes about twenty minutes, filled with easy conversation and music from a playlist that’s surprisingly good—indie rock mixed with some Korean R&B. You learn that Sunghoon is an only child, that he grew up in a small town, that his parents are both engineers and have very high expectations for him.
“Is that why you work so hard?” you ask. “Because of them?”
“Partly,” he admits. “But also because I don’t really know what else to do. School is the one thing I’m actually good at.”
“That’s not true. You’re good at lots of things.”
“Like what?”
“You’re a good teacher. You’re patient, you actually listen, you explain things in a way that makes sense. That’s a skill.”
He glances at you, surprised. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
When you arrive at the trailhead, it’s not crowded—just a few other cars in the small parking lot. Sunghoon grabs a backpack from the trunk, and you start walking.
He was right about it being an easy trail. The path is well-maintained and mostly flat, winding through trees that are just starting to show their fall colors. It’s beautiful in a quiet, understated way.
“I come here when I need to think,” Sunghoon says as you walk. “It’s peaceful.”
“What do you think about?”
“Everything. School, the future, whether I’m making the right choices.” He pauses. “Sometimes I feel like I’m on this path that was decided for me, you know? Like, I’m going to graduate, get a good job, make my parents proud. But I’m not sure if it’s what I actually want.”
You’re surprised by the honesty. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem.” He looks at you. “What about you? Do you know what you want?”
The question catches you off guard. What do you want?
A month ago, you would have said you wanted to graduate, make money, have fun. Simple things.
But now, standing here with Sunghoon, you realize you don’t know anymore.
“I’m figuring it out,” you say finally.
You walk in comfortable silence for a while, and then Sunghoon leads you off the main path to a clearing that overlooks a small lake. The view is stunning—water glittering in the sunlight, trees reflected on the surface.
“Wow,” you breathe.
“Right?” He sits down on a large flat rock near the edge of the clearing, and you join him. “I found this spot last year. I don’t think many people know about it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He pulls out his backpack and produces two bottles of water and some trail mix. “Snack break.”
You laugh. “You really came prepared.”
“I try.”
As you sit there, eating trail mix and looking out at the lake, you feel something loosen in your chest. This is nice. Simple. Real.
“Can I tell you something?” Sunghoon says after a while.
“Of course.”
“I’m really glad you agreed to come today. I know tutoring is our thing, but I wanted…” He trails off, looking uncertain. “I wanted to spend time with you outside of that. As friends. Or, I don’t know. Whatever this is.”
Your heart is pounding. “Whatever this is?”
He turns to face you fully. “I like you. I know that’s probably obvious, and I’m sorry if that makes things weird, but I can’t stop thinking about you, and I thought maybe—”
You kiss him.
You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe because of the way he’s looking at you, so open and vulnerable. Maybe because you want to stop him from saying more things that will make you feel guilty. Maybe because you’ve been wanting to kiss him for weeks and you’re tired of pretending otherwise.
Whatever the reason, you lean in and press your lips to his, and for a moment, he freezes.
Then he’s kissing you back, tentative at first and then deeper, his hand coming up to cup your face. His lips are soft, and he tastes like trail mix and mint gum, and it’s good—better than it should be, better than kissing Jake, better than anything you expected.
When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing hard.
“Wow,” he says softly.
“Yeah,” you whisper.
“Does this mean…?”
“I don’t know what this means,” you say honestly. “But I like you too. I think.”
He smiles, bright and genuine, and pulls you in for another kiss.
You lose track of time there by the lake, kissing Sunghoon like teenagers, his hands respectful but wanting, your fingers tangled in his hair. It feels right in a way that scares you.
When you finally break apart for real, the sun has shifted position, and you realize you’ve been here for over an hour.
“We should probably head back,” Sunghoon says reluctantly.
“Yeah.”
The hike back to the car is different from the hike out. Sunghoon holds your hand the entire way, his grip warm and steady, and you can’t stop smiling.
This wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to actually like him.
But as he helps you into the car and leans over to kiss you one more time before closing the door, you realize you’re completely screwed.
That night, lying in bed, you finally respond to Mina’s texts.
how’s the bet going?
You stare at the message for a long time before typing: Good. He’s definitely into me.
perfect. keep it up. easy money.
Yeah. Easy money.
But it doesn’t feel easy anymore.
The following week, everything changes.
Your tutoring sessions become something more—study dates, really, where you spend as much time talking and laughing as you do working through problems. Sunghoon brings you coffee every time now, always remembering exactly how you like it. You find excuses to touch him, and he finds excuses to touch you back—a hand on your shoulder, fingers brushing when you pass papers back and forth.
On Thursday, after your session ends, he walks you back to your apartment. It’s out of his way, and you both know it, but neither of you mentions it.
At your door, he kisses you goodbye, slow and sweet, and you have to physically stop yourself from inviting him inside.
“I’ll see you next week,” he says, his forehead resting against yours.
“That’s so far away,” you murmur, and you’re surprised to find that you mean it.
“We could… do something over the weekend?” he suggests. “If you want.”
“Like what?”
“There’s a film festival on Saturday. Foreign films. Probably boring to most people, but—”
“I’d love to,” you interrupt.
His face lights up. “Really?”
“Really.”
He kisses you again, deeper this time, and you feel yourself melting into him.
When he finally leaves, you float into your apartment in a daze. Jiwoo takes one look at your face and grins.
“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” she says.
“Shut up,” you say, but you can’t stop smiling.
That night, you’re lying in bed scrolling through your phone when you see a post on Jake’s Instagram story. It’s from the Sigma Chi party—a blurry photo of the crowd with the caption good times.
And suddenly you remember. The kiss. Jake.
Your stomach drops.
You need to tell Sunghoon. You should tell him before he hears it from someone else, before it becomes a thing.
But how do you explain that you kissed his friend while you were… what? Were you dating him then? Are you dating him now? You never actually defined what this is.
You open your messages with Sunghoon, type out Can we talk? and then delete it.
This is fine. It was one kiss, weeks ago, before you and Sunghoon were actually together. It doesn’t mean anything.
Except it does mean something, because it means you were pursuing the bet. And if Sunghoon ever found out about the bet…
You close your phone and stare at the ceiling, your earlier happiness curdling into anxiety.
What the hell have you gotten yourself into?
Saturday arrives, and you meet Sunghoon at the small independent theater on the edge of campus. He’s dressed nicely—dark jeans and a fitted sweater that makes him look older, more sophisticated. When he sees you, his entire face transforms with his smile.
“Hi,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss that makes your toes curl.
“Hi yourself.”
The film festival is showing three movies back-to-back, and you settle into your seats with a large popcorn between you. The first film is French, subtitled, about a woman navigating love and loss in Paris. It’s beautiful and melancholy, and halfway through, Sunghoon reaches over and takes your hand.
During the second film—a Japanese drama about family—you rest your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you. It feels domestic and comfortable and utterly terrifying.
By the third film, you’re barely paying attention to the screen. All you can focus on is the warmth of Sunghoon’s body next to yours, the way his thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, the way he occasionally leans down to whisper commentary that makes you laugh.
When the festival ends and you step out into the evening air, you feel drunk on happiness and caffeine from the terrible theater coffee.
“That was amazing,” you say.
“Yeah?” Sunghoon looks pleased. “I wasn’t sure if it was too pretentious.”
“It was exactly pretentious enough.” You loop your arm through his as you walk. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thank you for coming. I know it’s not exactly a typical date.”
“Who says I want typical?”
He grins and pulls you close, kissing you in the middle of the sidewalk like you’re the only two people in the world.
You end up at a small cafe nearby, ordering hot chocolates and splitting a piece of chocolate cake. The conversation flows easily—he tells you about his thesis project, you tell him about your internship applications, and somehow you end up talking about childhood dreams and fears and all the small details that make up a life.
“I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid,” Sunghoon admits. “I was obsessed with space.”
“What changed?”
“I realized I get motion sickness really easily.” He laughs. “Not exactly ideal for space travel.”
“That’s tragic.”
“What about you? What did you want to be?”
You think back. “A lawyer, I think. I liked arguing.”
“That tracks.”
You kick him lightly under the table, and he catches your foot between his, holding it there.
The cafe starts to close, and reluctantly, you both leave. Sunghoon walks you home again, and at your door, the goodbye kiss turns into several goodbye kisses, which turn into you pressed against the door with his body flush against yours.
“Do you want to come inside?” you breathe against his lips.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
You unlock the door and pull him inside, grateful that Jiwoo is gone for the weekend. The apartment is dark and quiet, and you lead Sunghoon to your bedroom, your heart pounding.
Inside, you turn to face him, suddenly nervous. This feels different than all the other times you’ve done this with other guys. This feels like it matters.
“Hey,” Sunghoon says softly, stepping closer. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“I want to,” you say. “I want you.”
He kisses you then, slow and deep, walking you backward until your legs hit the bed. You fall together, a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter, and as he hovers over you, looking down with so much want and tenderness that it makes your chest ache, you think: I’m in so much trouble.
But you push the thought away and pull him down into another kiss, losing yourself in the feeling of his hands on your skin, his mouth on your neck, the weight of him above you.
When you pull him inside your bedroom, the air between you feels electric. Sunghoon’s hands are tentative at first, skimming over your waist like he’s afraid you might disappear.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice low and rough in a way you’d never heard before.
“More than okay,” you whisper, reaching up to pull him into another kiss.
That seems to break something loose in him. His kisses become deeper, more urgent, his hands more confident as they explore. You pull at his sweater, and he breaks away just long enough to tug it over his head.
You’ve never seen him like this—shirtless, his body leaner than you expected but defined, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Your hands find his skin, tracing the lines of his shoulders, his ribs, and he shivers under your touch.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”
The admission sends heat pooling in your stomach. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he looks up at you, waiting for permission.
You answer by pulling it off yourself, and his eyes go dark with want.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and the curse sounds foreign in his mouth, which somehow makes it hotter.
His hands cup your breasts through your bra, and you arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. He kisses down your sternum, your stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.
“Can I?” he asks, looking up at you.
“Please.”
He unbuttons your jeans slowly, reverently, sliding them down your legs along with your underwear. When you are finally bare before him, he sat back on his heels just looking at you, and you feel genuinely seen in a way that should have made you self-conscious but instead makes you feel powerful.
“You’re staring,” you say, but is no bite to it.
“Can’t help it.” He leans down to kiss you again, his body presses against yours, and you can feel how hard he is through his jeans.
Your hands go to his belt, fumbling with the buckle until he helps you, kicking off his jeans and boxers in one motion. And then there was nothing between you, just skin on skin, his weight pressing you into the mattress in the best way.
“Do you have…?” he starts.
“Nightstand,” you gasp. “Top drawer.”
He reaches over, finds a condom, and you watch as he rolls it on with shaking hands. When he settles back over you, positioning himself between your legs, he pauses.
“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he said, his eyes searching yours.
“I will. I promise.”
He pushes into you slowly, carefully, and you both groan at the sensation. He fills you perfectly, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he drops his forehead to yours, breathing hard.
“Okay?” he manages.
“So okay,” you whisper. “Move. Please move.”
He did, starting with slow, deep strokes that have you gasping and clutching at his shoulders. His technique was unpracticed but enthusiastic, and when you shift your hips to find the angle you need, he paid attention, adjusting immediately.
“Like that,” you breathe. “Right there.”
“Here?” He hits the spot again, harder this time, and you cry out.
“Yes, fuck, yes.”
He set a rhythm then, his hips snapping against yours, one hand braced beside your head and the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and the sounds he makes—low groans and whispered curses—were pushing you closer to the edge.
“You feel so good,” he pants against your neck. “So fucking good.”
Your nails rake down his back, and he hisses, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he regains control. You can feel yourself getting close, that familiar tension building low in your belly.
“Touch yourself,” he says, his voice strained. “I want to feel you come.”
The command sends a shock of heat through you. You slide your hand between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. The added stimulation combined with the feeling of him inside you is too much.
“Sunghoon,” you gasp. “I’m—”
“Come for me,” he says, and that’s it.
Your orgasm hits you like a wave, your body tensing and shaking as pleasure rolls through you. You feel yourself clenching around him, and he groans, his movements becoming erratic.
“Fuck, I’m—” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just buries himself deep and comes with a broken moan, his body shuddering against yours.
For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath. Then he carefully pulled out, disposed of the condom, and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms.
“That was…” he started.
“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice still shaky.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, your temple, your lips. “You’re amazing.”
And lying there in his arms, your body still humming with aftershocks, you feel something crack wide open in your chest. Something that feels dangerously close to real feelings.
Later—much later—you lie tangled together in your sheets, Sunghoon’s arm wrapped around you, his breathing deep and even. You should feel satisfied, content.
Instead, you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall.
You wake up to sunlight streaming through your window and the unfamiliar weight of someone else in your bed.
For a disorienting moment, you forget where you are, who you’re with. Then Sunghoon shifts beside you, his arm tightening around your waist, and everything comes rushing back.
The film festival. The cafe. Bringing him back here. The sex.
Oh god, the sex.
Your face heats at the memory, and you bury it in the pillow. Sunghoon makes a soft noise in his sleep, nuzzling into your neck, and despite everything—the guilt, the confusion, the looming disaster of the bet—you can’t help but smile.
“Are you awake?” His voice is rough with sleep, muffled against your skin.
“Maybe.”
He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” You turn in his arms to face him, and he’s unfairly attractive like this—hair messy, eyes soft, a small smile on his lips.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.”
He kisses you, slow and lazy, and you can feel him hardening against your thigh. Your body responds immediately, heat pooling low in your stomach, but before things can progress, his phone buzzes insistently on the nightstand.
He groans, breaking away to check it. “It’s Heeseung. He wants to know if I’m alive.”
“Are you?”
“Barely.” He types out a quick response and sets the phone down. “I should probably go. I have a study group at noon.”
Disappointment lances through you, which is ridiculous. You just spent the entire night with him. “Yeah, okay.”
“Unless…” He looks at you hopefully. “Do you want to get breakfast first? There’s that place near campus that does really good pancakes.”
You should say no. You should put some distance between you, figure out what the hell you’re doing.
But instead you say, “I love pancakes.”
The diner is busy with the Sunday morning crowd, but you manage to snag a booth near the back. Sunghoon orders a truly obscene amount of food—pancakes, eggs, bacon, hash browns—and you raise an eyebrow.
“What? I’m hungry.” He grins. “Last night was… athletic.”
You kick him under the table, face flaming. “Shut up.”
“I’m just saying.” His grin widens. “You’re very… energetic.”
“Oh my god, stop talking.”
But you’re laughing, and so is he, and when the food arrives, you end up stealing bites from his plate while he pretends to be offended.
It’s domestic and easy and terrifying.
Halfway through the meal, Jake walks in with Heeseung and Jay. Your stomach drops.
Jake sees you first, and something flickers across his face—surprise, maybe, or understanding. Then he’s heading over with the other two in tow.
“Sunghoon!” Heeseung says cheerfully, sliding into the booth beside him without asking. “You never came home last night. We were worried.”
Jay smirks, looking between you and Sunghoon. “Clearly not that worried.”
Sunghoon’s ears turn red. “We were just… we went to the film festival and then—”
“And then you stayed over,” Jake finishes, his eyes on you. There’s something unreadable in his expression.
“Hi, Jake,” you say carefully.
“Hey.” He slides in next to you, forcing you to scoot over. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah.”
The tension is palpable, at least to you. Sunghoon seems oblivious, too busy fielding questions from Heeseung about the films, but Jake is looking at you like he knows something.
“So you two are like, together now?” Heeseung asks bluntly.
Sunghoon glances at you, and there’s vulnerability in his eyes. “I… we haven’t really talked about it.”
“We’re seeing each other,” you say, reaching over to lace your fingers with his. “Right?”
“Right.” His smile is so genuine it makes your chest ache.
“Cute,” Jay says, stealing a piece of bacon from Sunghoon’s plate. “Our boy’s all grown up.”
“Fuck off,” Sunghoon says, but he’s grinning.
The conversation shifts to other topics—an upcoming game, someone’s disastrous Tinder date, plans for Halloween. You mostly stay quiet, hyperaware of Jake beside you, wondering if he’s going to say something about the party. About the kiss.
But he doesn’t. He just eats his food and makes jokes with the others, and when they finally leave, he gives you a long look that makes your stomach twist.
“He knows,” you say once they’re gone.
“Knows what?” Sunghoon asks, signaling for the check.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
The next week passes in a blur of classes, tutoring sessions that turn into makeout sessions, and stolen moments in empty classrooms and dark corners of the library.
You can’t keep your hands off each other. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and now that you’ve crossed that line, neither of you can go back.
On Tuesday, your “tutoring session” lasts all of fifteen minutes before Sunghoon is pulling you into his lap, his mouth hot on your neck.
“We should actually study,” you gasp, even as you grind down against him.
“We should,” he agrees, not stopping.
You end up in the single-user bathroom on the third floor, Sunghoon pressing you against the door as he kisses you breathless. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your hips, sliding up under your shirt to cup your breasts.
“God, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he breathes against your lips. “It’s affecting my grades.”
“Liar. You’re incapable of getting bad grades.”
“Want to test that theory?” His hand slips between your legs, rubbing you through your jeans, and you bite back a moan.
“Someone could hear.”
“Then you’ll have to be quiet.”
He drops to his knees, and your brain short-circuits.
“Sunghoon, what are you—”
“Let me,” he says, already unbuttoning your jeans. “Please. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
You should say no. You’re in a public bathroom in the library. Anyone could walk by.
But then he’s pulling your jeans and underwear down, and his mouth is on you, and all rational thought flies out the window.
“Oh fuck,” you breathe, your hands flying to his hair.
He’s enthusiastic if not entirely skilled, his tongue exploring with scientific precision, trying to figure out what makes you gasp and moan. When he finds your clit and sucks lightly, your knees buckle.
“There,” you manage. “Right there, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He works you with his mouth, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady, and you have to bite down on your fist to keep from crying out. The knowledge that you’re doing this here, in public, with Sunghoon of all people on his knees for you, makes it even hotter.
You come embarrassingly quickly, your orgasm hitting you hard and sudden. Sunghoon works you through it, lapping at you until you’re shaking and oversensitive, and when he finally pulls away, his lips are shiny and his eyes are dark with lust.
“You taste amazing,” he says, his voice wrecked.
You pull him up and kiss him hard, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Your place. Now.”
“I have a roommate.”
“My place then.”
You somehow make it back to your apartment without attacking him in public, though it’s a close thing. The moment you’re through the door, you’re on him, pushing him toward your bedroom and stripping off his clothes.
“Bed,” you command, and he goes willingly, lying back and watching as you undress.
When you straddle him, positioning yourself over his cock, he groans.
“Condom,” he manages.
“Nightstand.”
He reaches over, fumbles with the drawer, and rolls one on with shaking hands. Then you’re sinking down onto him, both of you moaning at the sensation.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands gripping your hips. “You feel so good.”
You start to move, riding him slowly at first and then faster, chasing your pleasure. His hands roam your body—your breasts, your stomach, your thighs—like he can’t decide where to touch you first.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, his eyes locked on you. “So fucking beautiful.”
The praise sends heat through you, and you lean down to kiss him, your movements becoming erratic. He takes over then, thrusting up into you hard and fast, and the change in angle has you gasping.
“Touch yourself,” he says, echoing his words from last time. “I want to see you come again.”
You do, your fingers finding your clit, and the combination of his cock inside you and your own touch is too much. You come with a cry, your body clenching around him, and he follows a moment later with a groan, his hips stuttering.
You collapse on top of him, both of you breathing hard, and he wraps his arms around you.
“I’m never going to be able to concentrate in the library again,” he says, and you laugh into his chest.
Thursday’s session is more of the same. You try to actually study—you really do—but Sunghoon keeps looking at you with these heated glances, and his hand keeps finding your thigh under the table, and eventually you give up and suggest going back to his place.
His roommate is at class, and you have exactly ninety minutes before he’s back.
You make the most of it.
This time, you’re the one on your knees, learning what makes Sunghoon gasp and curse. He’s bigger than you expected, and you take your time, using your tongue and lips and hands until he’s gripping the sheets and saying your name like a prayer.
“I’m close,” he warns, but you don’t pull away.
When he comes, you swallow, and the look on his face is worth it—complete bliss mixed with awe.
“Holy shit,” he breathes. “That was…”
“Good?” you ask, crawling up his body.
“Understatement of the century.” He pulls you in for a kiss, apparently not caring that you just had him in your mouth. “Your turn.”
“We don’t have time—”
“We have time.”
He proves it by going down on you again, this time with more confidence and skill. He’s a fast learner, you’ll give him that. He remembers exactly what you liked before, adding new tricks that have you squirming and begging.
When you come, it’s intense enough that you see stars, and Sunghoon looks so pleased with himself that you can’t help but laugh.
“What?” he asks, grinning.
“Nothing. You’re just… you’re really into this.”
“Into making you feel good? Yeah, I am.” He kisses your inner thigh. “Is that weird?”
“No. It’s perfect.”
And it is perfect, which is the problem.
Because every moment with him feels more real, and every real moment makes the lie bigger.
That night, Mina corners you at a party at some frat house you don’t remember the name of.
“Okay, what the fuck?” she demands, pulling you into a relatively quiet hallway. “You’ve been dodging my texts for two weeks.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to update me on the bet? Because from what I’m hearing, you and Park Sunghoon are basically dating now.” She raises an eyebrow. “Which is great for the bet, obviously, but you’ve been weird about it.”
“I haven’t been weird.”
“You’re being weird right now. What’s going on?”
You take a long drink from your cup, buying time. “Nothing. It’s going fine. He’s definitely into me.”
“And are you into him?” The question is pointed.
“It’s a bet, Mina. Of course I’m not actually—”
“Bullshit.” She crosses her arms. “I’ve known you for three years. I can tell when you’re lying.”
“I’m not—”
“Do you actually like him?”
The question hangs in the air between you. You could lie. You should lie.
But you’re so tired of lying.
“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “Maybe.”
Mina’s expression softens. “Babe…”
“I know. I’m an idiot. This was supposed to be easy, and I’m making it complicated.”
“So end the bet. Just tell him the truth.”
“And say what? ‘Hey, funny story, I only started talking to you because my friend bet me two hundred dollars that I couldn’t make you fall for me, but surprise, I actually caught feelings’? That’ll go over well.”
“Better than him finding out some other way.”
“He’s not going to find out.”
“Jake knows.” Mina says it casually, but the words hit like a punch.
“What?”
“Jake knows about the bet. He was there when I made it, remember? And he’s Sunghoon’s friend. You really think he’s not going to say something?”
Your stomach drops. “Jake wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t he? You two hooked up at that party. And now you’re dating his friend. You don’t think that’s going to come up eventually?”
Panic rises in your throat. “We didn’t hook up. We just kissed.”
“Does Sunghoon know that?”
“No.”
“So you’re keeping secrets on top of secrets. Great plan.”
“What do you want me to do, Mina?” Your voice comes out sharper than intended. “I can’t unfuck this situation. It’s already fucked.”
She sighs, her expression gentler now. “Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m worried about you. This isn’t like you. You don’t do feelings, you don’t do relationships. And now you’re in this mess because I made a stupid bet. So I’m giving you an out. Call it off. Keep your money. I don’t care. Just… don’t hurt him. And don’t hurt yourself.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It could be.”
But she doesn’t understand. It’s not about the money anymore. It’s not even about the bet.
It’s about the fact that you’ve built something real with Sunghoon, even if it’s built on a foundation of lies. And you don’t know how to tell him the truth without destroying everything.
The next morning, you wake up to a text from Sunghoon: Can’t stop thinking about yesterday. When can I see you again?
Despite everything—the guilt, the fear, the looming disaster—you smile.
Tonight? My place?
Perfect. I’ll bring dinner.
You spend the day in a state of anxious anticipation. Part of you wants to cancel, to put some distance between you and figure out what to do. But a bigger part of you just wants to see him, to pretend for a little while longer that everything is okay.
He shows up at seven with Thai food and that soft smile that makes your heart hurt.
“Hi,” he says, kissing you hello like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Hi.”
You eat on your bed, cross-legged and trading bites of pad thai and spring rolls. Sunghoon tells you about his thesis advisor giving him shit for missing a meeting, and you tell him about your nightmare group project in your econometrics class.
It’s domestic and comfortable and you wish you could freeze this moment forever.
After dinner, you end up tangled together, kissing lazily. His hands are under your shirt, yours in his hair, and it’s not urgent or desperate—just sweet and slow.
“Can I ask you something?” Sunghoon says against your lips.
“Mm?”
“Are we… I mean, I know we said we’re seeing each other, but are we like, exclusive? Because I’d like to be. Exclusive, I mean. If you want.”
Your heart squeezes. “You want to be my boyfriend?”
“Yeah. I really do.” He pulls back to look at you, and there’s such open honesty in his face that it makes you want to cry. “Is that okay?”
You should say no. You should end this before it gets worse.
But instead you kiss him hard and whisper, “Yes. I want that too.”
His smile is brilliant, and he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. Things heat up quickly after that—clothes coming off, hands and mouths everywhere.
This time, Sunghoon takes his time. He kisses every inch of your skin, mapping your body with his lips and tongue. When he finally settles between your legs, he looks up at you with dark eyes.
“Tell me what you want,” he says.
“You. Just you.”
He works you with his mouth until you’re trembling and gasping, and when he finally pushes inside you, it feels different. More intimate. Like you’re not just fucking but making love, which is a thought that should terrify you but instead just makes you hold him tighter.
“I’m falling for you,” he breathes against your neck as he moves inside you. “I know it’s fast, but I can’t help it.”
You should tell him the truth. Right now, in this moment, you should come clean.
But instead you just kiss him and whisper, “I’m falling for you too.”
And the worst part is, you mean it.
Later, after he’s fallen asleep, you lie awake staring at the ceiling.
You’re in love with Park Sunghoon.
You’re in love with the boy you were supposed to play, the bet you were supposed to win. And he loves you back, except he doesn’t really love you—he loves the version of you that you’ve been pretending to be.
Or maybe he does love the real you. Maybe all the pretending has become real. Maybe there’s no difference anymore.
Your phone buzzes with a text from Jake: We need to talk.
You stare at the message, your heart pounding.
Everything is about to fall apart. You can feel it.
And you have no idea how to stop it.
You meet Jake at a coffee shop off campus, somewhere you’re unlikely to run into anyone you know.
He’s already there when you arrive, sitting in a corner booth with two cups of coffee in front of him. He slides one toward you as you sit down.
“Vanilla latte,” he says. “I remembered from that party.”
“Thanks.” You wrap your hands around the cup, more for something to do than because you actually want it.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. Jake studies you with an unreadable expression, and you force yourself to meet his gaze.
“So,” he says finally. “You and Sunghoon.”
“Yeah.”
“How long has that been going on?”
“A few weeks. Officially, I mean. We’ve been doing the tutoring thing for longer.”
Jake nods slowly. “He’s really into you. Like, really into you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”
Guilt twists in your stomach. “I know.”
“Does he know about the bet?”
There it is. The question you’ve been dreading.
“No,” you say quietly.
“Are you going to tell him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Eventually.”
“Eventually,” Jake repeats, his tone flat. “So you’re just going to keep lying to him?”
“It’s not that simple—”
“It actually is that simple.” He leans forward. “You made a bet that you could make him fall for you. You did. Congratulations. Now either you tell him the truth, or you don’t. But this middle ground where you’re pretending everything’s fine? That’s fucked up.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Your voice comes out sharper than intended. “I know it’s fucked up. I know I should tell him. But how do I do that without destroying everything?”
“Maybe everything deserves to be destroyed if it’s built on a lie.”
The words hit harder than they should. You take a shaky breath. “Why do you care so much? You barely know him.”
“He’s my friend. And he’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve this.” Jake pauses. “And honestly? I don’t think you deserve to hurt yourself like this either. I saw your face when you’re with him. Whatever started as a bet isn’t a bet anymore. You actually care about him.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Tell him the truth. Before someone else does.”
Your blood runs cold. “Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m warning you.” Jake’s expression softens slightly. “Look, I’m not going to tell him. That’s not my place. But Mina was drunk when she made that bet, and there were other people around. Someone’s going to say something eventually. And it’s going to be a lot worse if he hears it from someone else.”
He’s right. You know he’s right.
“I’ll tell him,” you say. “I just… I need to find the right time.”
“Don’t wait too long.” Jake stands, leaving his coffee untouched. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d understand. He’s not perfect either. None of us are. But he deserves honesty.”
After he leaves, you sit alone in the coffee shop for a long time, staring at your phone.
You pull up your messages with Sunghoon, dozens of texts full of inside jokes and sweet nothings. Then you scroll to Mina, her most recent message asking if you want to go out this weekend.
You type out three different messages to Sunghoon—variations of “we need to talk”—and delete them all.
Tomorrow. You’ll tell him tomorrow.
But tomorrow comes and goes, and you don’t tell him.
You tell yourself you’re waiting for the right moment, but the truth is you’re a coward. Every time you’re with him, you see how happy he is, how he looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you can’t bring yourself to shatter that.
The week passes in a strange tension. On the surface, everything is perfect. You and Sunghoon are inseparable—studying together, eating together, sleeping together. He’s introduced you to his parents over video chat, and you’ve started keeping a toothbrush at his place.
But underneath, you’re drowning in guilt and anxiety, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It happens on Friday night.
There’s a Halloween party at one of the bigger fraternity houses, and everyone is going. Sunghoon isn’t thrilled about it—he’s still not much of a party person—but you’d promised you’d go together, and he’s trying.
You’d put actual effort into your costume—a devil, complete with red bodysuit, horns, and a tail. Sunghoon is dressed as an angel, which he’d been embarrassed about until you told him how hot he looked in all white.
“We’re very on the nose,” he says as you walk to the party, his hand in yours.
“I think it’s cute. Heaven and hell, together at last.”
“Is that what we are?” He grins. “I’m corrupting you or you’re corrupting me?”
“Definitely the second one.”
The party is already in full swing when you arrive, the house packed with people in various states of intoxication and costume creativity. You spot Mina almost immediately—she’s dressed as a sexy nurse and is already drunk, dancing on a table with some guy from her marketing class.
“I’m going to get us drinks,” Sunghoon says, kissing your temple. “Want your usual?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He disappears into the crowd, and you start making your way toward Mina. But before you can reach her, someone grabs your arm.
It’s Jenna, a girl from your econometrics class. You’ve talked to her a few times, but you wouldn’t call her a friend.
“Oh my god, I’ve been looking for you!” She’s clearly drunk, her words slightly slurred. “I need to know—is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“The bet! With Park Sunghoon!” She’s practically shouting over the music. “Mina told Sarah who told me that you made a bet you could make him fall for you. And oh my god, you guys are actually dating now? That’s hilarious. How much did you win?”
Your blood turns to ice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, but your voice sounds wrong even to your own ears.
“Come on, don’t be modest! It’s genius, honestly. I mean, he’s such a nerd, it probably wasn’t even that hard—”
“Stop.” The word comes out harsh, cutting. “Just stop talking.”
Jenna blinks, taken aback. “Whoa, okay. I was just—”
But you’re not listening anymore. You’re scanning the crowd frantically, looking for Sunghoon, praying he’s still in the kitchen getting drinks, praying he didn’t hear any of that.
And then you see him.
He’s standing about ten feet away, two cups in his hands, his face completely blank.
Your heart stops.
“Sunghoon—”
But he’s already turning away, setting the cups down on the nearest surface and heading for the door.
“Shit,” you breathe, pushing past Jenna and fighting your way through the crowd. “Sunghoon, wait!”
You catch up to him outside, on the front lawn. He’s walking fast, his shoulders tense, and when you grab his arm, he jerks away.
“Don’t,” he says, his voice cold in a way you’ve never heard before.
“Please, just let me explain—”
“Explain what?” He whirls to face you, and the hurt in his eyes is devastating. “Explain how you made a bet that you could make me fall for you? Explain how this entire thing has been a lie?”
“It’s not—it wasn’t all a lie—”
“How much?” His voice cracks. “How much did you win?”
“Sunghoon—”
“How much?” He’s shouting now, and people are starting to stare.
“Two hundred dollars,” you whisper. “But I don’t want it. I never wanted it. That’s not what this is about.”
He laughs, a bitter sound. “Right. So what is it about? Entertainment? Did you have fun? Watching the awkward nerd fall all over himself for you?”
“No, it’s not like that—”
“Then what is it like? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you played me. You pretended to need tutoring, pretended to be interested in me, pretended to—” His voice breaks. “Did you fake all of it? Every moment, every kiss, every time you said you cared about me?”
“No!” Tears are streaming down your face now. “I didn’t fake it. I swear, I didn’t. It started as a bet, yes, but it became real. My feelings are real.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?” He’s crying too, and seeing him cry because of you is the worst thing you’ve ever experienced. “How am I supposed to believe anything you say when everything has been a lie?”
“Because I love you,” you say desperately. “I love you, Sunghoon. That’s real. That’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”
For a moment, something flickers in his expression—hope, maybe, or want. But then it hardens again.
“You don’t love me,” he says quietly. “You don’t even know me. Because if you did, if you cared about me at all, you wouldn’t have done this. You wouldn’t have—” He stops, taking a shaky breath. “I need to go.”
“Please don’t leave. Let me explain properly, let me—”
“There’s nothing to explain.” He takes a step back, putting distance between you. “You made a bet. You won. Congratulations.”
“Sunghoon—”
“I don’t want to see you anymore. I don’t want to talk to you. I just… I need you to leave me alone.”
And then he’s walking away, and you’re standing alone on the lawn in your stupid devil costume, crying so hard you can barely breathe.
Behind you, the party continues, oblivious to the fact that your entire world just imploded.
You don’t remember getting home. One minute you’re on the lawn, the next you’re in your apartment, Mina’s arms around you while you sob into her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she keeps saying. “I’m so, so sorry. I should never have made that stupid bet. This is my fault.”
But it’s not her fault. It’s yours.
You’re the one who accepted the bet. You’re the one who lied. You’re the one who kept lying even after you started developing real feelings.
You’re the one who broke Park Sunghoon’s heart.
Your phone won’t stop buzzing—texts from people at the party, from Jenna apologizing, from people you barely know asking if it’s true. You turn it off and curl up in bed, still in your costume, feeling like you’re suffocating.
“What do I do?” you ask Mina, your voice hoarse from crying.
“I don’t know, babe. Give him time, maybe? Let him cool off, then try to talk to him again?”
“He said he doesn’t want to see me.”
“He’s hurt. People say things they don’t mean when they’re hurt.”
But you saw his face. The betrayal, the devastation. That wasn’t just hurt. That was something deeper.
You’d made him believe someone could care about him, could see past the nerd label and the awkwardness and love him for who he is.
And then you’d proven that it was all an act.
“I ruined everything,” you whisper.
Mina doesn’t argue.
The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache and swollen eyes. Your phone is still off, and you’re afraid to turn it on.
But you force yourself to. You need to know how bad it is.
The damage is worse than you thought. There are dozens of messages, multiple group chats discussing the drama. Someone apparently recorded part of your argument with Sunghoon and posted it online. Your mentions are full of people calling you a bitch, a heartbreaker, cruel.
And they’re not wrong.
You scroll through until you find messages from people who actually matter. Heeseung sent you a long text that essentially amounts to “what the fuck is wrong with you.” Jay’s is shorter but somehow more cutting: “He really loved you. I hope it was worth it.”
Jake’s is the one that makes you cry again: “I warned you. I hope you figure out how to make this right.”
There’s nothing from Sunghoon.
You open your conversation with him, looking at the last messages he sent—a string of heart emojis in response to a photo you’d sent of your costume. It was less than twelve hours ago, but it feels like a lifetime.
You type out a message: I’m so sorry. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but please, let me explain. What I said last night was true. I love you. I never meant to hurt you.
You stare at it for a long moment, then delete it.
Words aren’t going to fix this. Nothing is going to fix this.
You’ve lost him.
And it’s entirely your own fault.
The first week without Sunghoon is the worst week of your life.
You stop going to parties. You can barely drag yourself to classes. Your carefully constructed social life—the one where you were always the center of attention, always having fun, always in control—crumbles around you.
Because it turns out that when people know you’re capable of something that cruel, they look at you differently.
Mina tries her best to support you, but even she doesn’t know what to say. She canceled the bet immediately, told you to keep your money, apologized a hundred times. But it doesn’t change anything.
You avoid the library completely. You can’t bear to walk past your usual table by the windows, can’t bear to remember all those tutoring sessions that turned into something more. Your statistics homework sits untouched—you can’t bring yourself to look at probability distributions without thinking of Sunghoon’s patient explanations, his neat handwriting, the way his face would light up when you got a problem right.
Your roommate Jiwoo walks on eggshells around you. She brings you food you don’t eat, suggests watching movies you can’t focus on, and eventually just sits with you in silence because that’s all you can handle.
“You need to get out of bed,” she says on day five, opening your curtains despite your protests. “You haven’t showered in two days. You’re not eating. This isn’t healthy.”
“I know.”
“So get up. Take a shower. We’ll go get coffee or something.”
“I don’t want coffee.”
“I don’t care what you want. You’re getting out of this apartment.” Her voice is firm but kind. “Come on. I’ll wait.”
You drag yourself out of bed, shower on autopilot, and put on clothes that aren’t pajamas for the first time in days. When you look in the mirror, you barely recognize yourself. Your face is pale, eyes hollow and red-rimmed. You look like you’ve been through a war.
You feel like it too.
Campus feels different now. You walk with your head down, avoiding eye contact, hyperaware of every whisper and pointed look. The story has spread—everyone knows about the bet, about what you did. Some people are sympathetic, but most just see you as the girl who broke Park Sunghoon’s heart for two hundred dollars.
You deserve it. Every bit of judgment, every dirty look. You deserve all of it.
Jiwoo takes you to a small cafe on the edge of campus, one you’ve never been to before. It’s quiet, mostly empty, and you’re grateful for the anonymity.
“Talk to me,” Jiwoo says once you’re settled with your drinks. “What are you feeling?”
“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.” You wrap your hands around your cup. “I keep thinking about his face. When he found out. I’ve never seen anyone look so… broken.”
“Have you tried to reach out?”
“What would I even say? ‘Sorry I made a bet to make you fall in love with me’? There’s no apology big enough for what I did.”
“Maybe not. But maybe he deserves to hear that you’re sorry anyway.”
You shake your head. “He said he doesn’t want to see me. I have to respect that.”
“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”
“I’m not giving up. I’m accepting that I fucked up so badly there’s no coming back from it.” Your voice cracks. “I lost him, Jiwoo. And it’s my own fault.”
She reaches across the table to squeeze your hand. “For what it’s worth, I think your feelings were real. I saw how you were with him. That wasn’t fake.”
“It doesn’t matter if they were real. Not when everything else was a lie.”
You start seeing Sunghoon around campus, though “seeing” isn’t quite right because you make sure he never actually sees you. You’ve become an expert at ducking into buildings, changing directions, hiding behind groups of people.
Each glimpse of him is like a knife to the chest.
He looks tired. Sad. He’s always alone now, you notice—no more walking with Heeseung and the others, no more sitting in groups at the dining hall. He’s retreated back into himself, back into the lonely, isolated version of himself that existed before you.
Before you ruined everything.
On Tuesday at 5 PM, you walk past the library and see him at your old table. There’s a girl sitting across from him—you don’t recognize her—and she’s working through what looks like statistics problems. He’s explaining something, using the same patient tone he used with you, and seeing it makes you feel physically ill.
He’s moved on. He’s replaced you.
Which is what you wanted, right? For him to be okay? But watching it happen feels like dying.
Week two is somehow worse than week one.
You run into Heeseung at the gym. You’ve been going at odd hours to avoid people, but apparently not odd enough. He’s on the treadmill next to yours, and for a moment you consider just leaving. But he speaks before you can.
“You look like shit,” he says bluntly.
“Thanks.”
“Sunghoon looks worse.”
Your chest tightens. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Too bad.” Heeseung stops his treadmill and turns to face you fully. “You fucked up. We all know it. But I’m not here to lecture you.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I’ve known Sunghoon since freshman year, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he was with you. And I’ve also never seen him as miserable as he is now.” He pauses. “And because Jake told me what you said. That you actually fell for him.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“It matters to him. Even if he won’t admit it.”
You stop your treadmill too. “What do you want me to say, Heeseung? That I’m sorry? I’m sorry. That I wish I could take it back? I do. That I love him? I—” Your voice breaks. “I love him so much it’s destroying me. But he doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I don’t blame him.”
Heeseung studies you for a long moment. “He’s stubborn. Probably the most stubborn person I know. When he decides something, it’s really hard to change his mind.”
“So I’m fucked.”
“I didn’t say that.” He grabs his water bottle. “I’m just saying, if you really love him, you’re going to have to fight for it. Because he’s not going to make it easy.”
“He shouldn’t have to make anything easy. I’m the one who screwed up.”
“Yeah, you did. But people screw up. That’s life. The question is whether you’re going to let one mistake define you, or whether you’re going to do everything you can to make it right.”
He leaves you there, heart pounding, his words echoing in your head.
On Saturday morning, you wake up to a text from Mina: brunch? you need to eat and i miss you
You almost say no. But Jiwoo would just drag you out anyway, so you agree.
Mina picks the place—a cute little diner near campus that does bottomless mimosas on weekends. It’s the kind of place that’s usually packed, but you arrive early enough to get a table.
You’re halfway through your pancakes when the door opens and Sunghoon walks in.
Your heart stops.
He’s not alone. There’s a girl with him—the same one from the library, you realize. She’s pretty, with long dark hair and a sweet smile. She’s laughing at something he said, and he’s smiling back, and seeing them together feels like someone reached into your chest and ripped your heart out.
“Oh shit,” Mina breathes, following your gaze.
You can’t look away. You watch as they’re seated at a booth near the window—the same booth you and Sunghoon sat in that Sunday morning after your first night together. The morning when everything felt perfect and possible.
The girl says something and Sunghoon laughs—really laughs—and you realize with a sick feeling that you haven’t heard that laugh in weeks. Not since before everything fell apart.
“We should go,” Mina says, already signaling for the check.
“No.” Your voice sounds strange, hollow. “It’s fine. We were here first.”
“Babe—”
“I said it’s fine.”
But it’s not fine. Nothing is fine. You watch as they order coffee, as Sunghoon does that thing where he pushes his glasses up when he’s happy, as the girl reaches across the table to show him something on her phone and their fingers brush.
Does he touch her the way he touched you? Does he kiss her like he kissed you? Does he tell her about the hiking trail, about his dreams of being an astronaut, about all the little things he shared with you?
Has he replaced you that easily?
“I need to go,” you say abruptly, standing up. Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor, and several people look over—including Sunghoon.
Your eyes meet across the diner.
For one terrible, eternal moment, everything else falls away. It’s just you and him, all the hurt and love and regret hanging between you like a physical thing.
His expression shifts—surprise, then pain, then carefully controlled blankness. He looks away first, turning his attention back to the girl across from him with deliberate focus.
The dismissal is clear. You mean nothing to him now.
You barely make it outside before you start crying.
Mina follows, wrapping her arms around you while you sob on the sidewalk. People walk past, staring, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
“He’s moved on,” you choke out. “He’s already moved on.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe she’s just a friend—”
“Did you see the way he looked at her? He was happy, Mina. Really happy. Like he is when he’s—” You can’t finish the sentence. Like he was with you.
“Come on,” Mina says gently. “Let’s get you home.”
You let her lead you back to your apartment, your mind stuck on repeat. The image of Sunghoon laughing with that girl, the way he looked away from you like you were nothing, the realization that you’ve truly, permanently lost him.
This is what you deserve, you tell yourself. This is the consequence of your actions.
But knowing you deserve it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
That night, alone in your room, you finally let yourself break completely.
You pull out your laptop and open the folder of photos from the past few weeks. There are dozens—candid shots of Sunghoon studying, selfies you took together, photos from the hiking trip. In every single one where he’s looking at you, his expression is so full of love it makes your chest ache.
He really did love you. Completely, genuinely, without reservation.
And you destroyed that.
You find yourself scrolling through your text messages with him, reading through months of conversation. The early ones are formal—just coordinating tutoring sessions. But they gradually shift into something more. Long conversations about nothing and everything. Stupid jokes. Good morning and goodnight texts. The kind of constant communication that happens when you can’t stop thinking about someone.
The last text is still the string of heart emojis he sent in response to your costume photo. You’d been so happy that night, getting ready for the party, excited to show him off to everyone.
And then it all came crashing down.
You start typing before you can stop yourself: I saw you today at the diner. You looked happy. I’m glad. You deserve to be happy. I know you don’t want to hear from me, and I promise this is the last time I’ll bother you. But I need you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. What I did was unforgivable, and I understand why you hate me. But I need you to know that my feelings were real. Are real. I fell in love with you, Sunghoon. Really, truly in love. And I know that doesn’t excuse what I did, and I know it doesn’t change anything, but I needed to say it. You made me want to be a better person. You made me see that there’s more to life than parties and surface-level friendships and keeping people at arm’s length. You made me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling. And I ruined it. I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me because I was selfish and careless and stupid. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even expect you to respond to this. I just need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I love you. I’ll always love you.
You read it over three times, your finger hovering over the send button.
Then you delete it.
He’s moved on. He’s happy. And sending that message would just be selfish—making yourself feel better at his expense.
So instead, you close your laptop, turn off your phone, and cry yourself to sleep.
The next morning, you wake up to pounding on your door.
“Go away, Jiwoo,” you mumble into your pillow.
“It’s not Jiwoo.”
You bolt upright. That’s not Jiwoo’s voice. You stumble to the door and open it to find Jay standing there, looking uncharacteristically serious.
“We need to talk,” he says.
“I don’t—”
“It’s about Sunghoon. Let me in.”
Your heart racing, you step aside. Jay walks in, looking around your disaster of an apartment—tissues everywhere, empty takeout containers, your laundry piled in the corner.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “You really are a mess.”
“If you came here to insult me—”
“I came here to tell you that Sunghoon is miserable.” Jay turns to face you. “That girl you saw him with? That’s his cousin. She’s visiting for the weekend, and he agreed to show her around campus. But according to Heeseung, the entire time they were at that diner, he kept staring at the door like he was hoping someone specific would walk in.”
Your breath catches. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because he’s too stubborn to admit that he misses you. And you’re apparently too much of a coward to fight for him.” Jay crosses his arms. “Look, what you did was shitty. We all agree on that. But Sunghoon isn’t some innocent victim in all this either.”
“Yes, he is—”
“No, he’s not. He put you on a pedestal. He built up this image of you as this perfect girl who chose him over everyone else, and he didn’t give you room to be human. To make mistakes.” Jay pauses. “I’m not saying what you did was okay. But I am saying that relationships are complicated, and people fuck up, and maybe if you both actually talked to each other instead of suffering in silence, you could figure this out.”
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Have you actually tried? Like, really tried? Or did you just accept his initial reaction and give up?”
You don’t have an answer to that.
“That’s what I thought.” Jay heads for the door, then pauses. “He’s going to that hiking trail. The one he took you to. He goes every Sunday morning. Maybe you should accidentally run into him.”
“Jay—”
“Or don’t. Keep wallowing in your guilt and let him keep wallowing in his hurt. But I’m telling you, you’re both miserable apart. So maybe it’s worth at least trying to be miserable together.”
He leaves, and you stand in your apartment, his words echoing in your head. Maybe it’s worth at least trying.
Sunday morning dawns gray and overcast, threatening rain.
You almost take it as a sign to stay home. But you’ve spent two weeks being a coward, and you’re done with that.
You dress in the same athletic clothes you wore the first time Sunghoon took you hiking. No makeup, hair pulled back. This isn’t about looking good. This is about being honest.
The drive to the trailhead feels both endless and too short. Your hands shake on the steering wheel, and you have to give yourself a pep talk in the parking lot before you can get out of the car.
Sunghoon’s Honda Civic is already there.
He’s here.
You start up the trail on unsteady legs, every step feeling monumental. The trees are mostly bare now, leaves crunching underfoot, fall having settled fully into the world while you were busy falling apart.
You find him at the clearing overlooking the lake, sitting on the same flat rock where you first kissed him. His shoulders are hunched, head down. Even from a distance you can see the exhaustion in his posture. He looks like he hasn’t been sleeping any better than you have. You step into the clearing.
He hears you immediately, head snapping up. When he sees you, his expression cycles through surprise, pain, anger, and finally settles on something carefully neutral.
“What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you.”
“I thought I made it clear—”
“I know. Five minutes. Give me five minutes, and if you still want me to leave after that, I will. I’ll never bother you again.”
A long pause. Then he gestures stiffly to the rock beside him.
You sit, leaving space between you, and for a moment you both just stare out at the lake. The water is choppy today, reflecting the gray sky.
“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “I know that’s not enough. But I need to say it again. What I did was cruel and selfish and unforgivable, and I hate myself for it.”
“Why did you do it?” His voice is quiet. “Was I really that much of a joke to you?”
“No. You were never a joke. That’s the thing—you were supposed to be. It was supposed to be easy. I was supposed to play a part, win the bet, and move on.” You take a shaky breath. “But then I actually got to know you. And everything changed.”
“When?” he asks. “When did it become real?”
“Maybe when you brought me coffee without being asked. Maybe on Heeseung’s balcony. Maybe the first time you made me laugh for real.” You look at him. “I don’t know the exact moment. I just know that somewhere along the way, pretending became impossible because what I felt was completely real.”
He’s quiet. You press on.
“I saw you at the diner with your cousin. I thought she was someone you were moving on with, and it destroyed me. The idea of you loving someone else—” Your voice breaks. “That’s when I knew I couldn’t just accept losing you without a fight.”
“Jay told you she was my cousin,” he says flatly.
“Yes. And Heeseung told me you still had feelings for me. And Jake—” You pause. “Jake warned me weeks ago to tell you the truth. I should have listened.”
“You should have told me from the beginning.”
“I know. I was a coward. I kept telling myself I’d do it tomorrow, and then tomorrow became two weeks, and then it was too late.” Tears stream down your face. “I don’t expect you to forgive me easily. I’m not asking for that. I’m just asking for a chance to prove that I’ve changed. That my love for you is the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”
Sunghoon is quiet for so long you think he’s going to ask you to leave. Then he speaks.
“I’ve been miserable without you,” he says roughly. “I’ve been trying to be angry. Trying to hate you. But every time I come here, I think about kissing you on this rock. Every time I tutor someone new, I compare them to you.” He exhales. “I told my cousin about you. She called me an idiot for not hearing you out.”
Something flickers in your chest. “You talked about me?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He finally turns to look at you, really look at you, and his expression breaks open. “You look terrible.”
“So do you.”
“Yeah.” He reaches out hesitantly, brushing a tear from your cheek. The touch sends electricity through you. “I missed you.”
“I missed you every single day.”
“I want to forgive you,” he says slowly. “But I’m scared. How do I trust you again? How do I know this isn’t another performance?”
“You don’t. Not yet. I can’t hand you trust—I have to earn it back. Slowly, honestly, for however long it takes. I’ll be transparent about everything. I’ll go to therapy. I’ll do whatever it takes.” You lace your fingers through his. “Just don’t give up on us before we even try.”
“You’d go to therapy?”
“I’d do anything for you.”
He looks down at your joined hands. “I really loved you. Love you. Present tense. I can’t seem to stop, no matter how hard I try.”
“Then don’t try.” You move closer, until your knees are touching. “Let me love you back. For real this time.”
He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, something has shifted.
“No more lies,” he says firmly. “No more games. If we do this, we do it honestly. Complete honesty, always.”
“Complete honesty. Always.”
He leans in slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away. You don’t.
When his lips meet yours, it’s careful at first, tentative—like you’re both afraid of breaking something fragile. But then you’re kissing him deeper, pouring everything into it. All the guilt, all the love, all the desperate hope that you haven’t destroyed something irreplaceable.When you finally pull apart, you’re both crying.
“I love you,” you whisper. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Even though I probably shouldn’t.”
“We’ll make this work. I promise.”
“We’d better.” He squeezes your hand. “Can I take you to breakfast? Somewhere new. Not the diner.”
“New memories,” you say softly.
“New memories.”
He stands and offers his hand. You take it.
Three months later, you’re back at the library table by the windows.
Actually studying this time. Sunghoon is beside you, working on his thesis, occasionally stealing your coffee or reaching over to help with a problem. His hand finds yours between pages, a habit neither of you noticed developing.
Things aren’t perfect. There have been arguments, moments of doubt, nights where old wounds reopened. But you’ve worked through them. Therapy helped. Honesty helped more.
Mina waves from across the library. Jake gives you shit sometimes, but it’s affectionate now. Heeseung and Jay have folded you into the group like you were always there.
Your life looks different. Quieter in some ways, fuller in others. Less performance, more presence.
“Want to get out of here?” Sunghoon asks, already packing up his bag. “I know this hiking trail…”
You laugh. “Always with the hiking.”
“You love it.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” He takes your hand. “Come on. Let’s go make some more memories.”
Park Sunghoon was never just the biggest nerd on campus.
𝒇.reader ⁕ fingering ⁕ unprotected p in v ⁕ rough sex ⁕ slight dub-con ⁕ mean sunghoon ⁕ dacryphilia ⁕ use of pet names (baby, angel, pretty girl etc.)
The argument ended more than two hours ago.
Still, Sunghoon hasn’t heard a word leave your pretty little mouth. Not to mention that the argument was absolutely stupid. His nerves were already frayed by the constant nagging of his manager, a headache throbbing behind his eyelids from sitting in front of the computer screen for too long, mood ruined by that stale coffee the barista served him this morning and called it the best creation of his time. And you. Sweet, perfect, concerned you just happened to be there at the wrong time.
He was being an asshole, that much he admits. He shouldn’t have yelled at you or called you dumb, but you were the softest target with your clinginess and sweet voice. Now, you are giving him the ultimate cold shoulder. He has tried apologizing, tried talking to you, to make it up to you, yet you remain steadfast in your determination to ignore him. It was frustrating, really, though you look absolutely lovely sulking on the couch, big eyes swimming with tears you could barely keep at bay.
Sunghoon’s heart cracks a little at the sight but a small part of him is thrilled that he can get to you so well. You have always been a sensitive little thing, just one mean word or raising his voice a few octaves would leave you a sniffling, sobbing mess.
Just like how you’re sobbing right now. Sunghoon had initially thought that he’d coax you to talk to him again by murmuring apologies in your ear, but you had other plans. The second Sunghoon sits down beside you, you were getting up, sniffling as if he had wronged you (he has). That made his remaining patience snap like a thread.
Before you could even utter a word of protest, you were being bent over the arm of the couch, his large hand pushing your face into the cushions, thick fingers ripping your panties and tossing them off somewhere. He could have been more vocal and gentlemanly, though you don’t look like you were in the mood for it. Besides, he already knows what will get you speaking really fast.
“We’ll do it your way,” Sunghoon mutters, leaning over you, his chest brushing against your back. His lips pressed on the side of your neck in a feather-light kiss that didn’t match the roughness of his hands.
His hand palms your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly before sneaking down to brush over your folds. He isn’t gentle by any means, no, his thumb rubs up and down your slit, gathering the syrupy slick and circling your clit once, twice, thrice, and again until you are squirming from the stimulation.
“Nu-uh, baby. Don’t squirm now,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your jaw. You were about to relax, to melt into his familiar touch, but of course Sunghoon wasn’t nice. Before you could relax, three thick fingers are sinking down to knuckles, cold metal of his rings bumping against your heated skin.
You jerk, a sharp cry leaving your lips at the suddenness of the intrusion. Sunghoon watches as tears drip down your sweet face, staining your ruddy cheeks, and making your bottom lip tremble oh-so-sweetly. Fuck, you were so pretty, so, so dear to him it was ridiculous. He gives you enough time to adjust by squirming and clamping around his digits before pulling them out, feeling your walls flutter, and then stretching deliciously when he thrusts them back in.
Sobs are already falling past your lips, back arched as slick drips down his digits and coats his hand in thick sheen. “Still not speaking?” He murmurs, warm lips brushing over your dampened cheek, tongue flicking out to lick a tear. “I did say sorry, didn’t I?”
You’re immediately shaking your head, strands of hair sticking to your damp skin. “No, y-you didn’t, Hoonie.”
Oh, how Sunghoon melts at the way you whimper out that little nickname. He grins against your cheek, crooking his fingers juuust slightly to hit that spongey spot. Your body jerks, toes curling from pleasure as you let out a choked moan.
“I didn’t?” He muses, pulling his fingers out with a wet squelch. “That’s really bad of me, isn’t it?”
He was mocking you, you could tell by the slight taunting lilt of his voice. You were ready to beg him to put his fingers back, already feeling empty and distressed from the loss of orgasm. But then you feel him moving back, the sound of metal clinking, and the sound of a zipper reaches your ears. You tense—from anticipation or from nervousness, you couldn’t tell. Though your cunt clenched ‘round nothing, dripping like it has been waiting for this exact moment. And perhaps, Sunghoon thinks, she has. After all, his pretty girl was just so ready for him whenever he needed her.
He pulls his pants and boxers down to his thighs, just enough to free his aching erection. It springs free with a jerk, tip glistening with pre-cum. Spitting on his palm, Sunghoon fists his shaft, pumping his plumpy girth once, twice, thrice before lining himself up with your weeping cunt.
His one hand pushes down on your back to make you arch while the other guides the bulbous head to part your folds and sink into your heat. He watches, entranced, as your puffy lips parted around his mushroom tip, your walls stretching around his girth as he feeds you inch after thick inch. He has to hold himself back from just rutting into you like an animal, to relish in the damning, velvety heat of your cunt.
“S—Sunghoon—” you gasp, gummy insides swallowing him whole. The way he fills you up is almost sinful, and all you could do is push your hips back, grind your ass against his pelvis
“Mm, fuck, baby,” Sunghoon rasps, his other hand coming to pull both of your arms behind your back, holding your wrists with one hand while the other settles on the dip of your waist to anchor you to him. “Feels like coming home. Literally.”
He gives you a second to adjust—just a second, and then he is pulling his hips back, thick head dragging along your walls almost heavenly before snapping forward.
He sets a punishing pace almost immediately once he was sure you could take it. His hips slap against your plump ass, grip tight on your wrists as he thrusts, thrusts, thrusts, each one forcing his cock a little deeper than the last. “That’s what you get for goin’ silent on me,” Sunghoon groans, his length swabbing into every nook and cranny you thought didn’t even exist.
“Nngh, t—too fast,” you slur out, head pushed into the couch cushions, its case now damp with your drool and tears, and bend over the armrest with your ass and feet up. The position wasn’t new, though the circumstances sure were. And Sunghoon doesn’t look like he is in the mood for playing nice and gentle for you, at least not tonight.
“Clearly not fast enough if ya’ can still speak, pretty girl,” and then he is changing the angle, just slightly so, but it made stars burst behind your eyes all the same. He bends his knees, pulling at your wrists to force your back into a deeper arch and that has his cock ramming into that sweet, hidden spot.
“Oh—” you squeal, thighs clamping shut.
That, that wasn’t something Sunghoon liked, clearly, because one second his hand is pinning your wrists behind your back, and the next you feel a sharp smack landing right on your pussy.
You yelp, more slick gushing around his cock as his roughened tips press down onto your puffy clit. “You’re always throwin’ a tantrum and being messy, hm?” His low voice was enough to pull a whimper from your throat, the stinging of the smack barely subsiding before he is drilling into you.
“I—I wasn’t—” you start, but your words are soon dissolving into sobs when he twists your clit, his larger, broader frame hovering behind you when he leans down.
“H-Ha, you so were, baby,” he drawl out. You were a firm one, Sunghoon knew that much. Even if you were on your limits, you wouldn’t admit it. Such foolishness in a small body was almost expected, really, though it didn’t dim his admiration for you. If anything, your stubbornness to admit your weakness and vulnerability made him want to crush you.
And he expected that whiny denial anyways. He’d have to bully out a few orgasms for you to actually sob out a complaint.
You were just so beautiful when you were being tunneled by his cock, all stupid and whiny with tears and drool all over your face.
Stubborn and a whole lot sensitive, but you were his, every inch. And while he might have yelled at you because of his stupid stress, he knows how to make it up to you all too well.
So, in no time, he is burrowing his cock deeper into your cunt until the round head slams into your cervix. You don’t get the time to even register the sensation at first before he is bashing that spot, the impact and pleasure making your eyes cross and for unashamed moans to spill out.
“Mhm-hm, look at ‘er, angel,” he grunts, “Grippin’ me so sweetly.”
Each snap of his hips sent your body jolting forward, face pressing into the cushions and wetting them with your spit and tears. Usually Sunghoon is much more loving and considerate, however, right now he has lost all of his patience. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and the wet, filthy plap, plap, plap filled the living room along with his ragged breathing.
He felt your walls fluttering, saw the way your knees gave away and you bit the pillowcase to muffle your cries, and he knew you were close. Too close. A little bit more and you’d be dumb enough to forget about the argument altogether.
His hand snakes down, thick fingers prodding at your swollen folds before finding your clit and drawing slow, tight circles over the sensitive bud. Your body twitched, a broken sound spilling past your lips, sounding strangely like a breathy gasp of his name. Sunghoon didn’t stop his relentless assault, if anything, his thrusts became more forceful, more intentional to drive you to the brink of insanity.
“You’re close, pretty girl,” Sunghoon murmurs, not a question, rather a statement. He knew your body better than you knew it yourself, knew which buttons to press to get you all stubborn and defensive and what strings to pull to make you melt in his hands.
You merely managed a dumb nod, sniffling and hiccuping, and it was just so pathetic. You were barely coherent, probably not even listening to half the things he spewed out. His cock gave a traitorous jerk, balls drawing up as his own climax approached.
“Sunghoon,” you choke out, the knot in your tummy unraveling with each thrust. “P—Please, don’t stop.” Pleasure spreads down to your toes like an inferno, consuming you whole until all thoughts and memories of previous argument melted from your head.
The “please” sounded so good from your lips, but then again, you’ve always looked prettier when you begged.
“Please what?” He slows down like the annoying asshole he was, and a shudder ran through you. You didn’t speak—couldn’t, not when he was railing you into another week. He, however, doesn’t care if he had rendered you speechless. He wanted—no, needed—you to continue your mindless babbling. He leaned over you, chest brushing against your back and he was so warm, like a furnace. “I said, please what, angel, hm? Please let you cum? Please fuck you harder? Or please stop? Which one is it?”
The thought of him stopping was painful. You didn’t want that, not when you were so, so close. You shake your head immediately, lifting your head a little to peer at him from over your shoulders, your wet eyes meeting his.
“Please let me cum,” you whimper, and Sunghoon feels the wetness of your tears when you press your cheek against his jaw.
And, just like that, he was absolutely done for. His hips snapped forward with more force than necessary and you bit back a choked cry.
“Fuck, you’re so good,” he rasped, lips ghosting over your soft damp cheek in feather-light kisses. “Too good.”
The squelching sound of your wetness ricocheted off of the walls along with the slap of skin against skin. Your eyes rolled back, breath hitching as the pleasure mounted—hot and white. Your grip on the cushions tightened, nails tearing into the cheap pillowcase.
Your thighs shook, entire body seizing with the force of your orgasm as you came around his cock. It was abrupt, intense, and numbing. You feel Sunghoon stilling inside you, big, warm hands settling on your waist. You squeezed him, and the tightness had him choking back a moan. He pulled out, fist closing around the base of his cock in a firm grip. He knew if he continues, he’d cum, and he had something much important to take care of before granting himself that pleasure.
He watched as you came down from your high, body still trembling with the aftershocks of it all, the fire dying down and leaving behind dazzles of pleasure.
“You alright?” He whispered, voice gentler now as he rubbed your back.
You stayed quiet for a moment, catching your breath before speaking. “You were mean to me,” you whisper, voice undeniably sulky despite your piss-poor attempt to mask it.
Sunghoon huffed, a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, though you weren’t sure. He moved away, the warmth of his body disappearing and you almost found your footing back when he is hauling you up and settling down on the couch, sitting you on his lap.
“Oh, I know,” he sighed, hands finding purchase on your bare hips and he felt the familiar spark of arousal igniting low in his guts. He dark eyes catch yours, a small, almost mocking smile pulling at his lips. “But I know how to make it much better, yeah?”
If the lustful glint in his eyes wasn’t enough to convey his implications, the hardness of his arousal pressing against your inner thigh made his intentions much, much clear. And despite how much you want to hold on to your anger, you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like you were the most beautiful person to exist in his world, and especially not when you could feel yourself already beginning to drip.
HEESEUNGㅤis an insufferable piece of shit, to put is very nicely.
no it’s not the first time you’re mad at him and no, it’s no news that seeing you like that quite literally makes him want to throw you in bed and shut you up.
your words fall deaf to his ears— he’s only focusing on how pretty you look when you push your hair back in annoyance.
and when you point your finger at him, nudging his chest, he feels like he might just lose his cool. “shit, you’re so hot, angel,”
you sigh, not backing down. “i’m being serious, hee,”
“so am i,” and he is all up in your face, a proud grin adorned on his lips. “go on, yell at me a little more,”
JONGSEONGㅤhas a not so subtle smirk dancing on his lips as you raise your voice in annoyance.
“and you— are you even listening to me?” you ask when you notice him leaning against his mahogany desk, arms crossed over his chest.
“i am, my love,” he says in that deep yet oh so sweet voice that makes you falter, but then you see his smile and it makes you even angrier.
“you’re smiling,” you deadpan at his sheer audacity. if he didn’t have such a handsome face, you probably would have punched him. “i’m trying to have a serious conversation and you’re smiling,”
“can’t help, darling,” he makes way to you and swiftly pulls you by your waist. “you’re hot when you talk to me in that tone,”
you do slap his arms away and get more angry, but jay would live.
JAEYUNㅤthinks something is wrong with him because why is he having the time of his life when you’re mad at him.
you’re clearly upset, going off about something he did. “you never take me seriously!”
“i-i do!” he defends himself, knowing very well he is doing anything but taking you seriously, even right now.
your eyes squint at him— or the overflowing amusement in his eyes. “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
and your boyfriend goes speechless after being caught red-handed. “i—uh— a ... little?”
shaking your head, you give up, walking out on him. “you’re unbelievable,”
“not my fault you look sexy as hell when you’re mad at me!” he shouts back shamelessly as you leave the room.
SUNGHOONㅤis hit with realisation the second you shoot him angry eyes. his heart races, mind explodes, eyes widen— that firm, slightly raised voice of yours— it’s doing things to him.
“you can’t do this every time i try to make plans for us,” you make a point, fully expecting him to argue back, but he just reaches out to hold your hand.
“listen, baby—”
“park sunghoon,” words leave your mouth at the nickname— firm and strict. “shut up,”
and sunghoon freezes, feeling all his blood go south. you’re angry and you probably won’t talk to him for a while, but he doesn’t need to be saved.
“y-yes,” he stutters nervously, but he is exactly where he wants to be.
SUNOOㅤis a little surprised at first because you are never this mad.
he looks at you as you get ready for work while also scolding him on the side— he feels like you two are a married couple already with the way you’re scolding him like a wife scolds her husband.
“you’re cute,” words slip off his tongue just as you’re about to leave.
“excuse me?!” you frown and he short circuits at your stern voice and furrowed brows, feeling like something new has awakened inside of him.
and his face flushes red, heart racing even when you’re shooting him the looks of anger. “nothing!”
“kim sunoo, i’ll deal with you later,” and you bet he isn’t sure if you’re warning him or threatening him with a good time.
JUNGWONㅤtruly is baffled because it feels like he is coming to terms with a new side of himself.
“you could’ve told me,” your words are sharp, and usually he would be muttering apologies but now...now he is quiet.
really quiet, eyes zoomed in on you, your shirt— his shirt— it makes you ten times more attractive when you are putting him in his place while wearing his clothes.
his mind trails off in inappropriate directions and he looks away, but then your voice draws him back to you. “look at me when we’re talking, won,”
and he deadass loses his breath, sirens going off in his mind. “sorry,”
you go on for a few more minutes and it’s hard to say he doesn’t enjoy it— so much that he might have a little problem.
NI-KIㅤis having the time of his life because not only are you cute, you are also short and angry that makes him want to hug you and smother your face with kisses.
“riki, stop grinning and listen to me,” you warn, hands on your waist, trying to look as intimidating as you think you do, but riki sees otherwise.
“i am,”
“you’re not,” you say again, bit more firmly this time, eyes not leaving his deep brown ones even for a second.
and it’s like a switch flips inside of him.
because suddenly, your boyfriend is reduced to a mix of nods and no’s and he gulps every time your voice gets a little louder— he hopes this doesn’t awaken something in him but it is already late.
it is only until you notice his eyes fixed on your lips that you catch on. “you’re liking this, aren’t you?”
“maybe...maybe not,” he shrugs, ears a little red.
and you can only shake your head at his implications. “sick freak,”
from, malena i don’t know how i came up with this TT hope you like this nonetheless
