#just this will tell you if you should bother reading it

[beargyu313]

cliffside

Love is so blind, it feel’s right when it’s wrong

˚.🎀༘⋆ Summary: what was supposed to be a quiet retreat turns into an unforgettable romance with a man almost twice your age (or the story of how your boyfriend’s dad seduces you). ྀ. 𐙚 ̊ Word count: 17.5k

ᵎ!ᵎ⭑.ᐟᵎ!cw: cheating !!! don’t read if uncomfortable !!!! mentions of food throughout the whole thing (they will nawt be hungry), also I do not encourage big age gap relationship irl, this is a fictional and heavily ROMANTICIZED story (ladies don’t let older guys take advantage of you !!)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

⋆˚࿔ Tags: MDNI – smut (it’s basically pwp), soft power dynamics, forced proximity, boyfriend’s dad (meaning cheating – don’t read if u don’t like it), age gap (OC is 27, Sunghoon is in very late 30’s!), one bed trope, doting and dom!Sunghoon,, 𓆝

⋆smut tags: corruption kink, undertones of ddlg (no use of daddy), heavy petting, groping, spanking, possessive and obsessive Sunghoon !! (but he’s not acting like a freak), choking, brat-tamer!Sunghoon, praise kink

⋆˙♪ Playlist: LDR – norman fucking rockwell + Baekhyun – delight

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ A/N: was this plot just an excuse to write 17k Sunghoon smut? YES lmfaoo. My reqs are currently OPEN for Niki, Sunghoon and Jake, pleeeease request something (I don’t mind detailed reqs, because I’m not writing anything atm and would love a new project) 𓆝 also I’m opening an AO3 account by the end of the month 🦭ིྀ

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

You’re holding onto your seatbelt as your boyfriend Jihoon speeds over the winding road up the hill.

“Slow down,” you tell him, knowing it’s in vain.

You’d only been together for six months, and this was supposed to be your first real couple’s retreat. The plan had sounded romantic— staying at his dad’s remote cabin, no cell service, time to unwind, just the two of you—but right now, you’re gripping the handle on the door and trying to bite your tongue as the car takes another sharp curve.

He exhales sharply, like your voice is a burden. “We’re literally ten minutes away.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Oh my god,” he mutters. “What is the point, then? That I’m not driving the way you like?”

You glance at him. He hasn’t looked at you once since you got in the car.

“I’m trying to talk to you,” you say quietly. “You’ve been on edge since we left.”

“I’ve been on edge?” he laughs, humorless. “You’re the one who quit your job and suddenly needed a ‘healing escape.’”

You go still. The words hit harder than they should.

“I told you why I left.”

“Right. Because it was ‘toxic.’” He throws air quotes around the word with one hand while the other grips the wheel. “Or maybe you just couldn’t the real world.”

Silence drops like a rock between you.

You stare out the window, jaw tight. Trees blur by—dark pines, broken sunlight. The air feels heavier than it should.

He sighs again. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying, not everything is a crisis.”

“I didn’t ask for a crisis,” you murmur. “I asked for support.”

He doesn’t respond.

Not when the road evens out. Not when the trees thin and the sea appears in the distance, glittering like glass. Not even when the outline of the cliffside cabin comes into view—tucked into green and shadow like it was built to disappear.

Jihoon pulls into the gravel clearing with a crunch of tires. The cabin stands just ahead—smaller than you imagined, all warm wood and deep shadows, the ocean visible just beyond the slope. It’s stupidly beautiful here. It almost makes you more angry.

He doesn’t bother to put the car in park before saying, “Well. We made it.”

You sit still. The air between you is thick with things unsaid.

“I guess we did,” you say.

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at the rearview mirror like he's already thinking about leaving. “Do you want help bringing your stuff in or…”

“No,” you cut in. “I’ve got it.”

That finally gets his attention. He turns toward you, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “It means I think we need space. A break. Just a few days.”

His mouth pulls into that condescending half-smile you’ve grown to hate. “So what, you’re kicking me out?”

“I’m asking you to give me time to think,” you say, voice calm but tight. “I came here to breathe. You don’t want to be here anyway.”

He scoffs. “Wow. Alright then.”

You open the door and step out before he can say anything else. The gravel shifts beneath your shoes as you head to the trunk. He doesn’t move to help you—not a step.

You drag your suitcase out, the wheels catching on rock and dirt.

When you turn back, Jihoon’s already behind the wheel again. Sunglasses on. Expression unreadable.

You pause. Half of you expects him to get out anyway. To walk over. Say something. Fight for this.

But he doesn’t.

He raises one hand in a lazy wave. “Enjoy your break, I guess.”

And then he hits the gas.

The car kicks up dust and pebbles as it speeds off, tires whining slightly on the curve. You watch the taillights shrink and vanish down the hill. Just like that, he’s gone.

Melancholy creeps into you like a shadow, sighing you can’t help but judge yourself. Really, what were you thinking going for a younger guy. And yeah, maybe 5 years wasn’t that much but as your 27th birthday approaches you somehow wish Jihoon could be more mature, less selfish. You shake the thought away and tightly grip your suitcase.

The wind rises a little, brushing your hair into your face. There’s no one around. No sound but the gulls and the faint hush of waves crashing far below.

The sound of your steps crunching down on the gravel is loud compared to the quiet hush of the nature around you.

You look at the cabin again. And someone is standing in the doorway.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. White shirt sleeves pushed to the elbows.

You squint against the sun. Then recognize him.

Mr. Park. Jihoon’s father.

He steps out onto the porch, bootsteps slow and deliberate. You’ve met him once before, at a dinner—Jihoon had barely let you talk, but Mr. Park had been polite, distant. Watchful.

Now, he looks at your suitcase. Then at you. His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes sharpen.

“Did Jihoon just leave you here alone?” he asks and you can tell he’s angry at his son.

You exhale through your nose. “Apparently I needed a break.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then so quietly you think you imagined it, “He’s more like his mother than I thought.”

You blink. You don’t know how to answer that.

Mr. Park glances at the suitcase again, then back to your face.

“You staying the week?”

You nod. “That was the plan.”

He tilts his head toward the open door.

“Then come inside. Wind’s picking up,” he states, as he bends ever so slightly and reaches for your suitcase. His fingers brush against yours as he grabs hold of the suitcase. You let him. But you’re still hesitating, stuck to the same spot on the driveway.

He notices.

“I don’t bite,” he says, and the corner of his mouth lifts just slightly. Not quite a smile. Not quite a joke.

Then he turns and walks back into the cabin—like he knows you’ll follow.

And you do, eyes lingering on the subtle shift of his shoulders beneath his shirt.

If that dinner months ago was any indication, he’s a man of few words. Quiet, intense. Unreadable.

It didn’t help that you also thought he was very good looking. Long, black hair tucked behind one ear, a few strands falling across sharp cheekbones. Thin silver glasses framing his eyes, drawing attention to the thick brows that make his expression look serious—even when he’s relaxed.

He looks like someone who doesn’t speak unless it matters. Someone who sees more than he lets on.

And now you’re stuck in a cabin with him.

A cabin you thought would be empty. Jihoon never mentioned his dad was here.

Kicking off your shoes on the porch, you follow Mr. Park inside.

The inside of the cabin is warmer than you expected. Not just in temperature, but in tone—like someone curated comfort instead of just decorating it.

The floor is rich in dark wood and worn slightly in the center like it's been walked barefoot a hundred times. A plush sofa stretches across one side of the open-plan living area, upholstered in a deep jade green that catches the light from the tall windows. A few burnt orange cushions are scattered along its length—just enough color to feel intentional.

The kitchen is minimalist but modern. Clean black stone countertops. Matte brown cabinetry. Pans hanging above the stove, catching glints of sunlight through the trees outside. There’s a teapot already out on the burner—old but polished, like it gets used daily.

A single spiral staircase in wrought iron and wood winds upward to the lofted bedroom, perched just above the living space. It has no door—just a wooden railing and a clean sightline to the floor below.

You can see the bed from where you’re standing. It’s large, maybe a queen, with a low frame and linen sheets in soft earth tones. Moss green. Warm gray. A single burnt orange throw draped carelessly across the foot.

There’s no real privacy, not with the open layout. You can already imagine the sounds of footsteps on the stairs, the creak of bedsprings, even the breath of someone turning over in the night.

The whole place smells faintly of cedar, citrus, and coffee.

It’s domestic. Intimate. A little too intimate, maybe.

“Um-“

“So,” you two start speaking at the same time.

You glance at each other. You offer a tight laugh.

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

He shakes his head. “Ladies first.”

You shift your bag higher on your shoulder. “I was just going to ask… would I be, um, in your way? I mean, I didn’t know anyone else would be here.”

His gaze flicks toward your suitcase. “You’re not in my way.”

A beat. You’re not sure what to do with your hands. “Jihoon didn’t mention you’d be staying here.”

He gives the faintest shrug. “I didn’t know he was planning on coming either.”

You nod slowly, not sure how to respond.

“I usually come up for a few weeks every summer,” he adds. “To work, it’s nice and quiet here, no buzz of the city.”

“It is nice,” you say as you glance around again, avoiding looking in Mr. Park’s eyes. But you can feel his gaze on you. It’s making you squirm and you start overthinking everything. From your clothes, to your hair and down to your makeup.

“It grows on you,” he says, finally tearing his eyes off you.

Another pause. You try to find something to say. Something neutral.

“I like the colors,” you say finally. “All the… green. And wood. It feels… warm.”

He almost smiles. “That was my doing. The decorator wanted everything to be white and steel.”

You blink. “Wait. You picked the throw pillows?”

His eyes crinkle just slightly. “I’m not a savage.”

That makes you laugh, even though you try to stifle it. His gaze lingers on the sound. It softens something in his face.

Then he nods toward your bag. “You want tea? Or coffee?”

“Tea would be nice,” you say.

“I’ll get your things upstairs.”

You protest, “Oh, it’s fine, really—”

But he’s already moving.

“I’ll set it by the railing,” he says over his shoulder. “You’ll be able to see everything from up there.”

Including him, you think—but you don’t say it.

He disappears up the steps, feet thudding lightly against the polished wood. You hear the creak of the loft floor above you, and then silence.

You glance around the living room again, unsure what to do with yourself. The couch is a soft, worn leather. A stack of books sits on the coffee table. Nature. Photography. One novel with a cracked spine.

The kettle whistles from the kitchen, sharp and sudden.

You reach for it, but Mr. Park is already coming back down the stairs.

“I’ve got it,” he says.

You step back instinctively. He moves past you, not touching you, but close enough that you feel his presence, his warmth.

You silently move into the kitchen with him and watch him as he pours the hot water, slides the mug towards you and then fixes his own tea as well.

Chamomile tea with no sugar, just the way you like it.

“Oh, thank you,” you softly say as you wrap both of your hands around the cup and bring it up to your lips, blowing gently.

Mr. Park doesn’t reply, just continues moving around the kitchen. Opens the fridge. Pulls out vegetables, eggs, a small bundle of herbs wrapped in twine.

You hover for a moment. Then, ask uncertain.

“Do you want help?”

He glances back, his dark locks falling onto his cheekbones. You almost want to fix the bothersome strands, but suppress the itch to have an excuse to touch him. He is your boyfriend’s dad for god’s sake!

“No need. You’ve had a long trip.”

You offer a faint smile, trying to make it casual. “Not exactly the couple’s retreat I imagined.”

That earns you a low, dry sound. Almost a laugh. And against yourself you’re pleased.

He turns back to the cutting board. Begins to chop in precise, even strokes. Everything about him is deliberate. Controlled.

Then, without looking up he asks. “He left you up here alone?” only it wasn’t really a question.

You pause. “…He was upset. We argued.”

Sunghoon hums, neutral, but not quite, “He’s always been impulsive.”

A brief glance your way.

“Didn’t inherit that from me.” The words are clipped. Measured. Sharper than the knife he’s holding.

You hesitate. “You two aren’t close?”

He shrugs.

“Not the way I’d like. He doesn’t… think before he acts.” His voice is calm, but there’s weight behind it. History.

You tuck your hands under your thighs. “I guess I was hoping this trip would… reset things.”

He finally looks at you—really looks.

“You deserve more than hoping.”

Sunghoon continues cooking and you continue drinking tea as you try not to stare at him. You tell yourself to look away. Instead, your eyes trace the flex of his forearms as he works. The slow rhythm of the blade. The subtle tilt of his head as he concentrates.

You’re still staring when he speaks.

“See something you like?”

Your stomach drops.

He doesn’t look at you. Just slides chopped zucchini into a pan like he didn’t say anything at all.

You blink. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

“Vegetables,” he says smoothly, mouth quirking. “I meant the vegetables.”

You let out a short laugh. Your cheeks are too warm. You take a sip of tea to mask it.

He finally meets your gaze. His expression is unreadable—but something in it lingers, like a touch you weren’t expecting.

“I’m making it for us,” he says. “Hope you’re hungry.”

The food is comforting. Warm rice, sautéed vegetables, the kind of seasoning that makes you pause for just a second, surprised it’s this good. You’re halfway through your bowl when the quiet between you stretches too long, and you feel the need to fill it.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “This is... really good.”

Mr. Park nods once. “Simple’s best up here. No delivery. No distractions.”

You glance at the windows, where the sun’s started to dip lower behind the trees. The silence out here feels different. Like it listens.

You clear your throat. “So… about the sleeping arrangements.”

He looks up at you, expression unreadable.

You add quickly, “I mean, I know you said I could take the bed, but I don’t want to—”

“You won’t, the couch isn’t suitable for sleeping anyway,” he interrupts gently. “Doesn’t stretch out.”

You blink. “Oh. Right. Of course. I didn’t know.”

His gaze lingers. “It’s not a problem. The bed fits two.”

You hesitate. “Mr. Park, I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“Sunghoon,” he says, voice low but firm. “Call me Sunghoon.”

You look at him. That subtle edge of command in his tone—not aggressive, not inappropriate. Just... sure. Your stomach flips.

“Okay. Sunghoon,” you softly say, his name heavy on your tongue. Like you’re saying a bad word. Forbidden.

His eyes stay on you a moment too long as if he can feel it too. Feel your unspoken desire. You fidget in your chair, his eyes piercing.

Then, just like that, he stands, collecting the dishes with easy efficiency. You rise to help, but he waves you off.

“I’ve got it. But…” He pauses at the fridge. “Do you want dessert?”

You blink. “You have dessert?”

“Kind of.” He opens the freezer. “One popsicle left.”

You let out a soft laugh. “We can split it.”

He tears the wrapper and hands you the stick. You take it, a bit taken aback that he unwrapped it for you. So far Sunghoon was being really caring towards you and you couldn’t tell if he’s being like this because he’s so much older than you and instinctively wants to take care of you specifically or if he’s always like this and it doesn’t mean anything.

Your lips wrap around the cold stick, the cold sharp and sweet on your tongue. You hear Sunghoon open the tap as he starts washing up. By the time he’s done you’re halfway done with the popsicle.

Sunghoon sits down on the sofa, right next to you as he watches the way your cheeks dip as you suckle and bite on the stick. Eyes dark, lids heavy and legs spread. But you don’t notice as you absent mindedly scroll through TV channels.

“Would you like some?” you innocently ask, “thought we said we’d split it?” only to almost drop the cold stick when you turn to look at him. Heat spreads through you like wildfire.

Sunghoon is sitting down on the couch looking like pure sex. Glasses sliding down his nose, hair a bit messy from brushing it back and heavy-lidded. Without hesitation, he slowly leans in and wraps his lips around the same spot your lips had just touched.

His mouth is slow as he softly bites down on what’s left of the popsicle. Hand wrapped around the same stick you’re holding. Deliberate. The wet sound of his tongue and the quiet sucking goes straight down to your core.

“I don’t mind sharing,” he says, dark eyes on you.

When he pulls back, he licks a faint drip from the corner of his mouth. The slow drag of his tongue as he pulls away makes you forget what you were about to say.

You stare at him. You can’t help it.

The air feels heavier now. Warmer. Intimate in a different way. He takes one last bite, then tosses the stick into the trash like nothing happened.

“You should get some rest,” he murmurs. “You can unpack tomorrow.”

You nod, fingers still cold from holding the popsicle. Mouth still warm from watching him.

And when you finally climb the stairs to the open loft, you know exactly what you’ll be thinking about when you try to sleep.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟

You wake up sweaty and sticky. Annoyed, you try to shake the duvet off but freeze as you feel the warmth behind you. Sunghoon is sprawled out next to you, his glasses on the bedside table. He’s not touching you, but with how closely he’s snuggled to you he might as well be.

You chuck the duvet off yourself, but do your best so it stays as it was on Sunghoon and let yourself fall back asleep.

The next time you wake to a steady rhythmic beat under you. You cuddle into the it, the sound calming you further into a daze. But then you register strong arms draped over you, hugging you protectively. And you realize you’re literally laying down on Sunghoon’s chest.

His arms tighten around you when he feels you waking up.

“Finally up, huh,” he mumbles, but his voice is kind. Sleep still seeping into it.

“Didn’t want to move and wake you, sorry,” he tells you and lets you roll off him.

“Sorry,” you squeal, face turning red, “hope I didn’t droll, I’m not usually the cuddling type.”

“No? S’kay, I didn’t mind it,” Sunghoon tells you as if it was nothing and starts getting ready for the day.

You’re still hiding your face behind the duvet as you listen to his quiet shuffle around the small loft. It is only when you hear the front door shut that you force yourself to get up too.

The morning is spent in quiet solitude that you invite with open arms, enjoying the scenery. You prepare yourself a simple breakfast and a tea to go along with it. As you sip on it you see Sunghoon outside, taking photos. And that’s when you remember Jihoon telling you his dad did photography.

You go back upstairs to unpack and change out of your pajamas. It’s true that it was summer, but the mountain air was a bit chillier so you decide on an oversized sweater, shorts and knee socks.

As you go out, you look around for Sunghoon, slightly jogging up to him when you spot him just off the trail. Near the forest. The sun is high up in the sky and Sunghoon has his camera raised, gaze narrowed like he’s tracking something invisible. A gull wheels overhead. His finger clicks the shutter.

"You're out early," you say, a little breathless from jogging. You brush your hair out of your face.

He turns at the sound of your voice. His eyes take you in—sweater hanging off one shoulder, the soft skin of your thighs above those socks—and there’s a flicker of something there. But just as quick as you notice it, it’s gone.

"Best light doesn’t wait. You want to try?" he asks.

"Really?" you ask, already shuffling closer to him.

Sunghoon watches you as he gruffly tells you, "come here."

He pauses when you leave some polite space between the two of you.

"Closer," he tells you, opening his chest as he indicates he wants you to come directly against his chest. You gulp as you move, his broad stature engulfing you as he put his arms around you and holds the camera in front of you.

"I’ve never held one like this before," you tell him, your heart racing at the proximity.

Sunghoon quietly chuckles, "that much is obvious. Relax your grip—you’re choking it," his hand over your, softly fixing your fingers.

"Sorry—"

"No need to apologize. Just let me guide you," and you do, his fingers guide you, as his breath caresses your neck. And you have to suppress a shiver when he quietly speaks next, his voice right next to your ear, breath tickling your neck.

"Tilt your wrists like this... yeah. Just like that. Feel better?"

"A little," you rasp and you swear his voice sounds deeper than before. You feel a warm buzzing seep from your inner thighs and try your best to will the thoughts away.

"Don’t overthink it. Let the camera rest in your hands. Let it want to be touched," he speaks, his hands moving from your wrists up your arms and settling on your shoulders as he watches you click away.

You softly chuckle in hopes of dissipating tension"you’re making it sound... kind of dirty."

"Is that how you’re hearing it?" he asks, not bothered in the slightest, but his hands on your shoulders start applying pressure – almost in warning.

"I didn’t mean—" you fumble for words, panic shooting through you. How was he always so calm?

"Mm. Focus here. Look through the viewfinder. Keep your hands steady," he cuts you off. His face is right next to your as he looks into the viewfinder.

"Breathe in," he proffers.

A beat passes as you breathe in and you swear heat builds between you. But only his hands touch you, their weight a constant reminder of how close he is.

"Now exhale slowly. Feel that? How everything sharpens when you stop fighting it?"

"Yeah..." you say, your voice coming out in a quiet breath. You shuffle in your spot, your shorts rubbing against your lower lips.

"Good girl," says Sunghoon, his voice like honey to your ears. But still – you momentarily falter, his voice bringing you back to reality.

"Mr. Park..." you hope your voice is at least a little serious, turning slightly to look at him through your lashes.

"If you keep calling me that, I’m going to start thinking you like it," Sunghoon easily replies, his gaze dropping to your lips. It’s back on your eyes just as quickly, so much so that you start to think you imagined it.

"Is that a problem?" flustered, you laugh and take a step forward. His hands drop from your shoulder as he continues watching you. A lip caught between his teeth.

"Not at all. But if we’re going to keep doing this... it’s Sunghoon. Say it."

"Sunghoon," you say, turning to look back at him.

"Better," he smirks and your gaze falls to the grass.

Sunghoon takes over the camera then, and you end up spending the entire day with him. Mostly just listening, letting his quiet confidence settle into the spaces where your thoughts usually race. He explains this and that—aperture, lighting, texture—and you try your best to keep up, even though you mostly just enjoy the sound of his voice. Low and calm, like the tide pulling in.

For lunch, you make sandwiches for the both of you, slicing the bread carefully while he’s still reviewing the shots on his camera. You place the plate beside him with a soft, "Here."

He glances up, genuinely surprised. Then, that soft flicker of something like warmth passes through his eyes.

"You didn’t have to, sweet girl," he says.

Just like that. Casual. Almost lazy. But your face burns for the next hour.

By the time the sun dips behind the trees, painting the cabin in golden light, he mentions putting on a movie in the living room—and you stupidly agree before even thinking to ask which movie.

You only realize your mistake when he dims the lights and presses play on Hereditary.

The couch is wide but low, sunken from use. You curl into yourself immediately, legs folded up beneath you, oversized sweater sleeves covering your hands. You retreat into your corner like a cat anticipating a thunderstorm.

Sunghoon claims the other side—sprawled out, knees wide, one arm draped over the backrest. He doesn’t look at you, but his presence takes up all the space anyway. Calm. Heavy.

You’re not touching. But you can feel him.

At first the movie is fine. Almost boring. You’ve seen horror films before, and for a while Hereditary just feels like another cliché movie. A family unraveling. A creeping unease.

But as the minutes tick by, your body starts to betray you. The way the music swells without warning. The shadows that linger a little too long in the corners of the screen. The sudden cuts to faces that shouldn't be there.

Your fingers curl into the blanket. You try to laugh once—force it out like it’s no big deal—but it dies in your throat.

Beside you, Sunghoon doesn’t move. He watches with the same intense stillness he brings to everything. Like he already knows exactly what’s coming.

When the first real scare lands—a sharp cut, a scream, something unnatural jerking into frame—you jump.

Not dramatically. Not even enough to make a sound, but enough that your knee brushes his thigh.

You freeze.

So does he.

Then, slowly, you start to pull away—

“Scared?” His voice is low. Barely a whisper. Almost amused.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, only to find that he's already watching you. Not the screen.

“It’s just a movie,” you say, trying to play it off.

But your voice isn’t steady. Not enough to fool either of you.

He doesn’t call you on it. Just leans a little closer, arm still draped behind you on the couch.

“Come here,” he says simply. Not a question. Not a suggestion.

Just… an offer.

And somehow, that’s even more dangerous.

“It’s fine, really,” you tell him but as the climax of the movie approaches you’re getting progressively more and more scared. Your eyes shifting in paranoia to look outside the windows to make sure no one is looking in, you almost scream when a big hand wraps around your wrist.

But you relax, when you realize it’s just Sunghoon. He pulls you right against himself, his arm falling protectively against your body. He moves your legs so they’re resting in his lap, his other arm placed on your naked thighs.

“You’re too stubborn,” he tells you, but his arms tighten around you whenever you jump.

Once the movie ends, the room is too quiet.

You don’t move at first, staring blankly at the credits. There’s still a weight in your chest—your heartbeat quick, your breath shallow. That last scene… you wish you hadn’t watched it.

Sunghoon stretches, slow and deliberate, his body radiating calm. He looks down at you—really looks—and sees it.

“Too much for you, sweetheart?”

His voice is low. Gentle. Like he’s talking to someone much smaller, like he’s already tucking you into safety without moving an inch.

You glance at him, face warming. You nod, just barely.

“It got really scary at the end,” you admit softly, voice small.

He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t laugh. Instead he softly asks, “Want me to put something else on?”

You nod again, biting your lip. “Can we… watch a cartoon? Something stupid. With animals, or magic. Just something nice.”

That earns the smallest smirk. Not mocking—fond.

“Of course you want animals.”

He reaches for the remote, his hand trailing down your thighs. He pulls your sliding sock back over your knee, smoothing over the goosebumps that appear on your thigh where he touches.

“Any favorites, baby girl?”

The nickname makes your stomach flip, but you don’t correct him. You just sink a little deeper into the couch and mumble something about whatever’s cute.

Sunghoon scrolls quietly until something soft and colorful starts playing. You don’t even register what it is—just the bright lights and silly voices, the kind of show you used to watch on Sunday mornings with cereal in your lap.

He glances at you again.

“Better?”

You scoot deeper into him “mhm,” you whisper. “Thanks… Sunghoonie.”

There’s a pause, and then you feel his hand move, caressing your thigh.

After some time you shuffle against him again – your back hurt after laying sideways. Your legs spread as you sit on Sunghoon’s lap, now chest to chest with him as you let your head rest on his broad shoulder.

You don’t seem to realize you’re straddling him, Sunghoon’s even breathing lulling you into a sleepy haze. You just knew the TV light was starting to bother you and Sunghoon was warm. So you snuggle further into him.

He doesn’t say anything, instead he brings his legs closer and angles his hips upwards, so your core is pressed directly against his. You squirm around a bit, trying to find a comfy position when you feel it.

Something is poking right against your butt, just as you sit fully down and begin to nod off. Bothered by the prodding you subconsciously roll and press your hips against Sunghoon’s warm body.  You quietly groan, as pleasure starts replacing discomfort.

You continue dragging your hips up and down and Sunghoon groans underneath you. You moan, nuzzling your head into his neck as you push your front into his chest. Sunghoon’s hands travel from your thighs to your waist and it’s getting harder to breathe.

You pick up the pace, grinding with more intent when his hands grip your hips, the strength forcing you to stop. You whine at the loss of friction.

“You’re sleepy baby, let me take you upstairs,” Sunghoon groans, his voice hoarse as if he’s holding himself back from saying too much.

You let him lift you up in bridal position and carry you upstairs. He softly lays you down on your side of the bed. You don’t hear him, as he quietly goes into the bathroom. Trying to hold back any sounds as he grips his hard and leaking cock. And maybe that night he furiously tugs at his cock like a teenager, cumming embarrassingly fast before he’s able to come and sleep next to you. But you don’t know that, already asleep.

When you wake the next day you’re tangled with Sunghoon again. You’re calmer this morning compared to the previous one, and that’s when his hand twitches – shifting the mood. You’re spooning, only Sunghoon’s hand isn’t around your waist. No, it’s resting directly on your boob. Almost fondling it. You feel twitching as he starts waking up, the hand on your boob momentarily tightens into a grope, and you feel your nipples stifling, poking up. You mewl, subconsciously pushing your chest further into his hand.

You don’t move more than that, pretending you’re still sleeping as Sunghoon carefully continues touching you.

His fingers pinch your nipple, hips pressing into you. You feel how hard he is, and memories of last night fill your mind. Afarid he will pull away again you continue pretending to sleep. Sunghoon quietly groans into your ear, his hips rutting against your ass. The hand covering your tit less gentle as he roughly massages your boob.

You try really hard not to make any noise, not to push back, even though the ache building between your thighs has you nearly shaking in want. A moan escapes you when his thrusts get more irregular, less controlled and his dick twitches right against your lips.

Not being able to take it anymore you jut your ass out, shifting your thighs so you feel more pressure on your pussy. You quietly moan when Sunghoon’s other hand sneaks underneath your laying figure, resting on your navel.

“My sweet little thing, so good to me,” he breathes, pulling you into a back hug as he lets you feel his hard cock.

He breathes in your hair and you mewl when his hips move, thrusting upwards. Your pussy clenching around nothing and you feel your panties start sticking to you.

You’re a whining mess as Sunghoon lets you rub yourself on his cock and he continues playing with your nipple, pinching and pulling at it. Noting what makes you whine and moan the loudest. Hit other hand drawing comforting circles on your navel and you wish he’d let it slip under your shorts.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks you, nose grazing your neck, hips gently thrusting into yours, “you like when da-“ he coughs, “when I play with you, hm pretty?” he asks, before leaving a soft kiss right where your ear meets your neck.

“You poor thing, can’t even properly do it by yourself” he pouts at you, mocking you. But you don’t realize it, instead pouting as you nod.

“Yeah Hoonie,” you whine “need your help.”

Just then a loud smack ruins the moment, Sunghoon’s hand coming down your thigh in stinging pleasure. You hiss and blink at him, dazed and still needy. But the way he’s looking at you now—stern, jaw tight—makes your stomach knot.

“That’s enough,” he says, voice low and sharp.

You blink again, still catching up. He left you empty, just when you were getting there.

“Wha—?”

“You have a boyfriend,” he says flatly, standing up fully. He adjusts himself in his boxers, then runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to wipe the heat off. “What the hell are we doing?”

The words sting more than you want them to.

“You started it,” you shoot back, voice soft but defiant. “You didn’t seem to mind a second ago.”

His head tilts. Slowly.

“And I’m ending it,” he says, firmer now, like you’re testing him. “Before either of us does something we’ll regret.”

You scoff, crossing your arms as you look away. “Maybe you’ll regret it. I won’t.”

He’s quiet for a beat.

“Take a walk.”

You glance up at him, pout deepening as your eyebrows furrow.

“Make me.”

That gets him.

He steps forward, just a little too close—his shadow long over your legs.

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Go cool off. Before I stop caring that you’re someone else’s problem.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, still warm and buzzing from the way he pulled away. Your thighs press together instinctively, but you refuse to let it show.

“Whatever,” you mumble to yourself, standing to rummage through your suitcase.

You start peeling off yesterday’s clothes—tossing the rumpled sweater and socks into a corner—and Sunghoon pushes past you, down the stairs.

You pull on something softer: a little camisole, barely opaque, and matching shorts that reach barely over your butt. You add a loose cardigan over it, just in case. Not like you're dressing for anyone.

As you start to turn away, something on the nightstand catches your eye.

A book.

You pick it up and see it’s Dracula. Of course, you loudly exhale through your nose in a quiet chuckle. Leather-bound, dog-eared, marked with a single worn slip of paper. You flip through a few pages, thumbing the edge. It smells like cedar and time. Somehow, that feels like him, too.

Curling onto the bed, you prop a pillow behind you and let yourself sink into it. Reading helps. Sort of. The frustration doesn’t really fade—but it settles, coiled and waiting.

Downstairs, you hear the front door open and shut. A car engine stirs to life. Sunghoon’s going somewhere.

Good.

You need space.

By the time the sun has risen higher and warmed the back patio, you’re already downstairs, water bottle in hand. You tug a towel out from the closet, find your sunglasses, and step out into the golden light. The air is warmer today. Still crisp from the mountain wind, but hot enough to sunbathe.

You stretch out on the lounging, sighing as the sun warms your skin. You don’t even hear the car pull back in—until the crunch of gravel in the driveway makes you glance up.

The door shuts.

And then you hear it. The steady, familiar steps rounding toward the back of the house.

Sunghoon. Butterflies erupt in your tummy even though you’re still mad at him.

He stops in the doorway, sunglasses pushed up on his head, one hand full of grocery bags, the other holding something vaguely bottled—wine, maybe. You don’t watch, but you hear him putting groceries away inside the kitchen.

He’s back out after five minutes. You take note of his clothes despite yourself – a tight black tee, accentuating his muscular frame and broad shoulders paired with light washed jorts.

His eyes find you.

“Need help with sunscreen?” he says, voice deceptively casual as his eyes drink you up. Clad in a flimsy pink bikini set that barely covered anything.

You peek at him over your sunglasses, not bothering to sit up.

“I’ve got hands, don’t I?” you say, all mock-innocence. “Pretty sure I can manage rubbing lotion on myself.”

Sunghoon doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. Just arches a brow like he’s heard this kind of sass before—and knows exactly what to do with it.

“Mm,” he hums, stepping fully onto the patio. “Thought maybe your hands needed a break, since they were so busy earlier.”

Your stomach dips. You shoot him a glare—half mortified, half flustered—and throw an arm over your face dramatically.

“You said we weren’t talking about that.”

“I said we were done,” he corrects. He walks towards you pushing his hair out of his face. “Didn’t say anything about keeping my mouth shut.”

You snort despite yourself, still hiding under your arm. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re burning,” he says coolly, pointing at the tops of your thighs with the little bottle of sunscreen he grabbed on his way out. “Flip over or sit up, brat. You choose.”

That gets your attention.

You peek up again, pout forming instantly. “You’re so bossy when you don’t get what you want.”

He steps closer, crouching down beside your lounger now, one big hand coming to rest casually on the side of the chair near your hip.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dipping dangerously low, “if I were getting what I want, you wouldn’t be able to lie still right now.”

You blink, heat rising all the way to your ears.

He twists the cap off the sunscreen and holds it up between two fingers. “Well?”

You make a show of sighing. “Fine,” you grumble, rolling onto your stomach with an exaggerated huff, the curve of your ass now fully on display. “But you better not make it weird.”

“Oh, baby,” he says, smoothing lotion into his palms, “I think we’re way past that.”

And then his hands are on you. He starts with your calves, wrapping his big arm around your plush skin, hot after being warmed by the sun now high up in the sky.

You force your breathing to stay even as Sunghoon rubs the sunscreen on your skin. Even though his touch was on your legs, the way his fingers knew where to apply pressure and massage made your skin tingle with raw want.

But Sunghoon smoothly continues, his hands traveling past your knee and on the back of your thighs. Once he reaches your sensitive spot you unknowingly spread your legs slightly and Sunghoon smirks, squeezing the sunscreen directly onto your skin, straight from the bottle.

You shriek, “that’s cold.”

“Serves you right for being a brat,” he lightly scolds. His hands rub the cold cream on the spot right where your thighs meet your butt, eyes glued to the spot between your thighs. He licks his lips, his fingers continuing working on your inner thighs. High. His long digits reach your bikini, grazing your lower lips and you twitch. He smirks, not saying anything.

Your breath is shallow as as his hands grasp your thighs, nails softly digging into your skin as he drags circles into your skin – spreading the sunscreen all over your legs. Sunghoon, ever the detail oriented man, doesn’t miss a single spot.

You butt starts lifting, against your best tries to just lay there and take it.

Sunghoon’s breathing is heavier when he squirts the cream on his hands again and starts spreading the creamy substance over your butt. Your bikini bottoms start to wedge into your ass, turning it more into a thong the longer he plays with you.

You sigh, melting into your chair as Sunghoon’s hand slips under your bottoms.

“Gotta make sure you don’t get burned anywhere,” he explains, his voice dropping an octave and you clench around nothing.

You just hope he doesn’t feel how wet you’ve gotten and scold you again. Sunghoon squeeze your butt and jiggles it, watching the shine from the cream reflect from it. It made your butt look so inviting and he has to bite his lip so an inappropriate comment doesn’t slip past his lips.

You on the other hand are holding your breath in quiet anticipation, but Sunghoon’s hands are already on your back. Hands sticky from the sun block as he carefully finishes his application. Grazing your lower back, then your waist and moving onto your shoulder blades.

“You’re trembling, sweetheart. You want more and you don’t even realize it yet, do you?” Sunghoon quietly murmurs by your ear, his voice telling you everything he isn’t saying.

Your body’s humming. You’re dizzy. You’re about to turn around and do something reckless—

But then he’s telling you to turn around so he can do your front side as well.

You listen, moving the sunglasses so they cover your eyes. But Sunghoon doesn’t miss your blushing cheeks and the bead of sweat right in the middle of your boobs.

“Good girl, see how well we get along when you listen to me?” he teases as he rubs on your stomach. His fingers touching your underboob, pushing your top up and revealing the softness underneath.

You moan a small ‘mhm,’ putty in his hands. You don’t dare to glance at him when he is this close. But his shadow looming over your laying figure and his scent all around you is enough to make you dizzy, all your senses filled with him. Sunghoon. Sunghoon. Sunghoon. Everywhere around you.

The moment is broken by the shrill of your phone. Sunghoon flinches away from you, as if he was caught doing something he knew he shouldn’t be.

You re-adjust your bathing suit as you reach for your phone.

You check the screen: Jihoon.

You hesitate, and Sunghoon notices. In a low, unreadable voice he matter of fact asks you. “Don’t let it go to voicemail. He’s still your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

You answer. Jihoon’s tone is annoyed and distracted right off the bat. “Hey. You alive or what? I texted you yesterday.”

“I’ve been fine. It’s… it’s peaceful up here,” you reply, lowkey already exhausted from this conversation.

“That’s the whole point. You needed to chill out. You were being weird lately,” he tells you in a clipped voice.

Your stomach twists. Your words feel small.

“Did you know your dad was going to be here?” you ask instead of giving into the fight he was starting.

“So what if he is? He’s never even home, I figured he’d be working like always,” he defensively nags.

“Well, he’s not. He saw everything, Jihoon. When you dropped me off.”

At this point, you hear the rustle of movement—Sunghoon, standing just behind you now.

“Let me talk to him,” he tells you, reaching his hand towards the phone. You’re caught off guard but hand the phone over without thinking. He takes it with fingers still faintly warm from your skin.

“Jihoon,” Sunghoon interrupts him.

A long pause is heard before he speaks again. “You left her alone, without food, without checking in. You didn’t even tell her I’d be here. What exactly were you thinking?”

You don’t hear Jihoon’s reply, but Sunghoon’s answers has you assuming what must’ve been said anyway.

“She said she wanted space, so you dumped her at the edge of a mountain?” “Grow up,” he tells him, visibly annoyed.

“That’s enough, Jihoon.” He pauses, listening before speaking again. “You lost the right to have an opinion the moment you left her here.”

He hands the phone back to you like it burns and goes inside the house, giving you privacy to finish the call.

You hold the phone to your ear and Jihoon’s voice is furious now “what the fuck was that? You seriously told my dad on me?”

“He saw everything, Jihoon. He’s the one who took care of me,” you firmly tell him, refusing to be the bad guy here.

“So now you’re what, flirting with him? Jesus, no wonder you’re acting weird,” he childishly jabs.

“I’m not the one who drove off like a child,” you tell him, trying to keep your tone steady. No matter how much Jihoon wanted to have this fight with you, you wouldn’t let him ruin this vacation for you.

“You really think he cares about you? My dad doesn’t get involved. He watches people fall and doesn’t say a word,” he quickly speaks, his voice panicked.

You pause. The words cut—because Sunghoon has cared. In ways Jihoon never has.

“That’s funny. He’s the only one who has,” you reply and then hang up, fuming.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

You don’t see Sunghoon for hours after the call. The house is too quiet and you assume he went out to take photos, since one of his cameras was absent too.                You try to nap, to read, to scroll aimlessly on your phone, but your thoughts keep circling to the way Jihoon’s voice rang out loud enough for Sunghoon to flinch. The way Sunghoon's jaw clenched so tightly after, like he was grinding back words he didn’t trust himself to say.

When the sun begins to fall behind the ridge, casting the inside of the cabin in deep, amber shadows, you finally venture out of the bedroom.

You find Sunghoon in the kitchen.

His back is to you, sleeves rolled to his elbows, knife in hand as he slices into something soft and green on the cutting board. The overhead light cuts a sharp halo over his shoulders, casting half his face in shadow when he finally turns to glance at you.

Not a word passes for a long second.

You cross your arms loosely, staying near the doorway. “I didn’t know if I should come downstairs.”

He looks back down at what he’s doing. “Didn’t want you to go hungry.” There’s warmth in that sentence, but no softness. It’s clipped. Guarded.

You both sit at the kitchen island. The meal is simple—roasted vegetables, grilled tofu, rice. You push food around your plate. The silence between you is heavy. Borderline unbearable.

And then, finally Sunghoon softly speaks “don’t mistake silence for regret.”

His voice is quiet, but deliberate, “I just don’t trust myself to say something I won’t take back later.”

You blink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He sets down his chopsticks, leans back against the chair. His jaw is tight, but his eyes are impossibly clear as they settle on you.

“I knew I shouldn’t have touched you.” A pause. He swallows. “But you looked so small when he drove off. And I guess, I just wanted to protect you, show you the love Jihoon wasn’t giving to you.”

Your chest clenches. The hurt spills before you can reel it back.

“Then why are you treating me like I did something wrong?”

His gaze sharpens.

“You didn’t. But I did. You’re not mine… yet.”

The word clings in the air between you like the taste of smoke. It makes you sit a little straighter. Makes your breath catch.

He watches you intently, but not indulgently. His expression isn’t soft. It’s honest. Bruisingly so.

“You said I’m not yours. Like I’m someone’s. I’m not.”

“It’s not that simple,” Now he looks at you.

“It could be.”

“You still have him.”

“I don’t want him,” you cross your arms, jaw tightening.

He doesn’t speak. You take a step closer, looking down at him as he still sits behind the table.

“I want you.” There it is. You said it plainly.

His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, like the weight of it hits somewhere deep. Then back to you.

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do.”

You pause, softer now. “You want me too.”

He exhales once, slowly. Runs a hand through his hair. That veneer of control, cracking.

His eyes flick to yours. “Of course I do,” he says. “Don’t think for a second I haven’t tried to push it down.”

You don’t speak. Just hold his gaze.

He threads your fingers together like it’s something he’s done a hundred times. And when he steps in close, the heat between you rises. The air shifts.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, low. “Not unless you mean it.”

You swallow, heart pounding.

“And don’t say my name like it matters,” he adds, “if you’re still planning to go back to him.”

Your voice comes out steadier than you expect. “I’m not going back.”

A beat. “I’m right here.”

His jaw flexes. His thumb brushes the back of your hand, almost unconsciously.

“…Say it again,” he murmurs. Not commanding. Just needing to hear it.

You step closer. Tip your chin up.

“I’m right here, Sunghoon.”

And then he kisses you. His mouth claims yours with a purpose that makes your knees lock. It's not hesitant, not testing. It’s decisive. Like a line is being crossed, and he’s the one drawing it.

You gasp against him, and he swallows it whole.

The kiss is deep, slow, deliberate — not the fumbling of someone new, but the kind of kiss that knows exactly where to linger, how to make your pulse stutter. He tilts your chin just enough to control the angle, to taste you properly. Like he’s waited long enough.

It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel like relief. But it does. Because this is wrong. Because this is forbidden. And because that only makes it worse. Better, sweeter.

You feel the age between you in the way he moves — in the steadiness of his hands, in the quiet control he keeps even as he presses closer. There’s no rush, the kiss is slow, intimate. And his hold on you is firm, possessive, holding you close to him as if he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go.  

By the time he pulls back — lips parted, breathing uneven — you’re flushed down to your chest. His thumb drags over your bottom lip, slow, like he’s memorizing the shape of it now that he’s finally tasted it.

His voice is low, warm, and just a little bit patronizing — the kind of tone that curls around your spine and makes you want to misbehave just to hear it again.

“You kissed me back, babygirl,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip. “Don’t get all shy on me now.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t look away.

He tilts your chin up further, just enough to make you feel small beneath his gaze.

“Want me to stop?” he asks, voice velvet-dark. “Or do you want Mr. Park to take care of you properly this time?”

Your breath catches.

It’s not the words exactly—it’s the way he says them.

Mr. Park.

Your lashes flutter. That word settles somewhere low and hot in your belly, like it had been waiting to be spoken all along.

You chew your lip, looking up at him through your lashes, voice barely above a whisper.

You pause, eyes flickering across his face—testing, teasing. “You wanna take care of me, Mr. Park?” you purr, face close to his. Sunghoon traces your whole face, eyes sparkling and lips curling into an almost proud smile.

“So now you get it,” he says, voice low and rich, eyes scanning your face. “Took you long enough, baby.”

He lifts a hand, fingers brushing under your chin, tilting it up like he’s studying you, admiring his own effect.

“You like being looked after, don’t you?” His thumb grazes your bottom lip, and he hums when you part your mouth, pliant for him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispers, hot and slow. “You’ve got me now.”

And then, quietly, firmly, sure of himself “and Mr. Park is gonna take real good care of his sweet girl.”

And then his lips are on you again, he back walks you into the living room and you let him lead, lips not parting. This kiss is messier, loud squelching sound fills the room and you can’t hold back the little whines escaping past your lips.

Sunghoon doesn’t mind, his hands now unashamedly groping everywhere. Your thighs, your butt, your waist, your boobs and it’s dizzying.

You gasp when your legs hit the sofa, falling back on it. You lay there, breathing uneven and Sunghoon just stands over you. Studying you, his eyes dark and focused, tracing every inch of your body.

He unbuckles his belt, “take your shirt off baby, let Mr. Park see you,” and you comply. The bossy tone turns you on. Your hands pull the fabric off your body.

“Mr. Park,” you breathe, pupils blown as you watch Sunghoon. You need him now, immediately. Your pussy is practically pulsating as you continue watching, waiting. But Sunghoon doesn’t seem to be in a rush. He spreads his belt on the table, carefully.

You whine, “do something already.”

He crouches next to your laying figure on the sofa, your legs dangling over the tiny thing. Caressing your neck in a dark velvety voice, almost as if he’s enjoying seeing you beg he tells you mockingly, “you’ve been whining about this all day and now you can’t even wait five seconds?”

You whimper, softly blowing a raspberry as you move out of his hold. You pull the shorts down your legs, done with the waiting.

“Fine, I’ll just take care of it myself,” you fuss, hand starting to slide down towards your core.

But Sunghoon swiftly grabs your wrist, tightly. His body is on you in a flash and it only excites you more. You moan when he speaks.

“Keep acting like this and you won’t be leaving this room today,” he is breathing hard, eyes softening when he sees the raw desire in yours.

You push your hips up, rubbing your pussy on him as he holds your forearms next to your shoulders, your left side pressing into the sofa cushion. His legs trap yours and you’re completely at his mercy, your strength no match compared to his.

“You’re cute when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it” he warns, voice husky, “now say please. Properly”

You almost want to cry, the ache so visceral you can’t even think. His words don’t even properly register before you’re’ already blabbering.

“Please please please, Mr. Park, please,” you beg, unsuccessfully trashing underneath his iron hold.

“I promise I’ll behave, just please touch me, I won’t be impatient anymore,” you whine, tears building behind your eyes out of sheer frustration.

“There she is. That’s better. My good girl knows how to behave,” he murmurs, allowing you to grind your pussy against his muscular thigh, as he caresses your face, a smirk on his face.

“Took you long enough to say it,” a dangerous lilt in his smile. He lowers down, biting in your neck in what should be pain but is instead making you mewl. Your pussy gushing at this point.

“Mr. Park, Hoonie,” you breathe, “f-fuck” you gasp, stumbling over your words as Sunghoon continues biting you, now moving onto your tits, littering small marks, “fuck me please, need you so bad” you whine, legs wrapping around his hips and pulling his lower body into you.

He’s aching you can tell, he pulls his lips from your body with a pop, a string of saliva connecting him to you, his lips red and swollen. And suddenly you’re licking your lips, desperate for just another taste of this older man.

“You love when I make the rules. Don’t pretend you don’t,” he teases, as he finally, finally pulls his cock out. He pumps it two times, licking his hand before bringing it to your face.

“Spit,” he instructs and you comply. You watch as he wraps his fingers around his long and fat cock again, droll pooling in your mouth as you watch, mesmerized.

He notices your gaze, “ah, wanted to taste my sweet girl, see if you taste as good as you look, but” he groans, lining his cockhead to your entrance, “my little one is just too impatient,” he gruffs.

He pushes his dick into you, slowly deliberately. Torturing you once again, and you’re utterly helpless. Whining, moaning, groaning, squeezing your walls together but Sunghoon doesn’t give in to your whining.

He’s barely pushed his cock in halfway when you test his patience once again.

“Hoonie just push it in already,” you whine, “need you so bad, stop teasing.” You pout. His dick twitches and that’s when it clicks. He likes seeing you this needy for him.

You look at him through your lashes, pushing yourself into the sofa, making yourself small under his larger frame, “feels so good, Hoonie,” you quietly moan, “you’re so big,” you mewl and Sunghoon finally sheaths himself fully inside of you, groaning as he does.

He stays like that for a moment, allowing both of you to adjust, his eyes are squeezed shut. Your thighs around his waist twitch, impatient once again.

You bite your lip, just watching him. You know he feels your walls pulsating, purring just for him. begging him to fucking move. You needed it fast, rough but Sunghoon was hellbent on having you slowly. Devouring you whole as you cry for him.

“Now you can wait your turn,” he breathes, almost as if he can read your thoughts. His hand wraps around your throat, his gaze dark and your walls clasp tightly around his dick. Sunghoon smirks as he draws his hips out, slowly, before pushing back into you hard.

You can’t stifle the loud moan that leaves you and that only spurs Sunghoon on. He continues fucking you like this, pace incredibly slow and powerful – as if he had all the time in the world to get lost in your pussy. He watches your every breath, every move, gaze heavy – too heavy. You shut your eyes the intensity overwhelming you.

Your smaller hand cups his bigger one, still on your throat and his voice is husky when he speaks again.

“Look at me,” his voice like honey, the thumb on your neck drawing comforting circles as he continues fucking you, “No hiding. I want to see exactly what I’m doing to you.”

He tells you and when you look you can feel it. The control, the power he has over you, how he could ruin you if he decided to. And how you would probably let him.

Your mouth opens, gasping as he picks up the pace, fast and irregular and you can tell he is close.

You try to claw at his hand that was clasping around your throat. You gasp for air and Sunghoon continues watching you, groaning as his hips work an incredible pace.

His hips stutter, eyes shutting and arm leaving your throat. And you can finally breathe again. Sughoon sheaths his hips into you and he grinds them into you.

Your orgasm starts hitting you in powerful waves, when he starts humping his dick into you, barely pushing out. Your walls tightening impossibly, and Sunghoon can’t do anything else but just take it. Let your pussy squeeze the orgasm out of him, as he stills and spills inside of you.

And you whine, you fucking whine, he flops onto you, carefully not to hurt you as he rides out his orgasm, softly thrusting in you.

You feel incredibly full, can tell that he came so much it’s overflowing out of you while he’s still inside. You two just breathe for a moment, catching you breaths and you swear your soul left you for a moment.

“Hoonie,” you mumble, “feel so full.”

“I know baby, I know,” he wraps his arms around you, turning you two so you’re laying down on him instead.

“Hoonie’s got you,” he tells you, patting down your hair and kissing you on your forehead.

Your breath slows. His doesn’t.

You’re still curled into him, skin sticky and trembling, but there’s a tension still-

“You okay?” you whisper.

Sunghoon chuckles softly, low and wrecked. “You have no idea what you just started.”

And he kisses you again. Slowly and deeply, holding you close. You moan softly as his tongue explores your mouth. You’re squirming, needy again and you can tell Sunghoon is starting to get hard again.

"That wasn’t enough," he tells you, lips not leaving yours, "you’ve been driving me crazy for days. Thought one time would fix it?”

His fingers close around your thigh, hard enough to ground you, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this,” he tells you and then he’s manhandling you, your torso rests on the backrest as you kneel on the couch. Sunghoon’s hands are on your hips, pressing your front over the backrest, your chest pressing into it. Ass up.

He has you bent over the couch and he reaches towards the table. You turn, watching as he picks off his belt and you tremble. Excited. You bit your lip to stop the smile from spreading across your face as you instinctively cross your arms behind your back.

“You’re gonna let me have you like this pretty girl?” Sunghoon asks, almost panting as he fondles your ass.

“Y-yes Hoonie,” you say, voice shaky.

He slaps you, watching in satisfaction as your pussy clenches around nothing. Then he wraps his belt around your wrist – not tight, just enough to stop you from moving. He hums once he’s satisfied.

This time when he lines his dick to your entrance he doesn’t wait. He stretches your walls again and you push your face down, biting on the sofa in hope of silencing any noises from escaping you.

But Sunghoon doesn’t like that, his fingers grip your hair and he gently yanks you by the hair. Your spine against his chest as he continues fucking into you hard.

“Nu-uh princess,” he moans, right next to your ear and you shiver, “let me hear you.”

You’re choked on air, pleasure overwhelming, but still you comply, “you make me feel so full, Hoon… I can’t help it.”

You mewl, rutting yourself back, as Sunghoon continues with the hard and rapid pace, his hips pushing into your ass anytime he fucks into you. Head lulls back, putty in his hands you completely relax, letting him use your body to chase his own pleasure.

“Tell me you feel it too. Tell me it’s not just me going insane over you,” he breathes right by your ear, hands holding you by your waist in position.

“I think about you all the time… even when I shouldn’t,” you confess, drunk on his cock.

“No one else gets to see you like this, you’re mine,” Sunghoon continues, his hold on you tight. Possessive.

“Then don’t let anyone else touch me. Keep me,” you rasp, moaning when he brings his digits to your clit. You shake, from the pleasure and pressure as Sunghoon rubs your clit expertly, as if he had done it a thousand times before.

“Doing so well for Mr. Park,” comes his husky voice, he softly bites down on your ear, “that’s it baby, cream my cock, make a mess little one,” he groans when he feels you clenching down on him.

Your pussy convulses, clenching around him in waves and Sunghoon stutters, pushing his dick impossibly deeper into you and you feel him twitching, filling you up for the second time.

After a moment, after you have both came down you speak, softly. “You make me feel so safe like this…” you murmur, your voice quiet, breathy. Barely there.

Sunghoon gently undoes the belt still loosely hanging around your wrists. His fingers are slow and unhurried, tracing the curve of your hips like he’s calming you through touch alone.

“Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs against your temple, lips brushing soft and warm. He kisses your cheek next, and you lean into it instinctively, your body boneless, spent.

You don’t fight him as he lifts you—your legs too sore, your mind fogged with the aftermath of everything. He carries you upstairs like you weigh nothing, one hand splayed over your thigh, his chest warm where your cheek rests against him.

He sets you gently on the closed lid of the toilet, crouching beside you to check the tender insides of your thighs with a light touch. His gaze flicks up to your face, searching, but you’re already watching him, lids heavy, lips parted.

“I didn’t mean to…” he starts to say, almost more to himself.

“I liked it,” you whisper, interrupting. Honest.

He exhales slowly, something fierce and protective shadowing his face—but it softens when he turns back to the tub, running the water, checking the temperature with his wrist. You watch the rise of steam, the pour of oil — something herbal and grounding.

He doesn’t speak, but the care in his movements says enough. When he returns to you, he sinks to his knees. His hands are warm on your waist as he coaxes you to stand.

“You okay?” he asks softly, eyes searching yours.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat. “Mhm. Just… floaty.”

He touches your face. “I’ve got you.”

You step into the water, and he follows behind, settling with you between his legs. The heat wraps around you both, and his arms immediately encircle you, pulling you into his chest.

He starts to wash you slowly — his hands gliding over your skin in steady, calming passes. The silence stretches between you, but it’s not heavy. It’s safe.

“Everything’s warm,” you whisper, eyes half-lidded. “You’re warm.”

“So are you,” he says, kissing your shoulder. “Still glowing, baby.”

Your lips curve into a lazy smile. You hum, nuzzling against his chest. “I don’t want to think. Just stay here.”

“Then we’ll stay,” he replies, wrapping you tighter in his arms. His voice dips low — protective, anchoring. “You don’t have to do anything now. Just let me take care of it.”

You nod again, your breath softening, your heartbeat slow. The water laps around you both as you sink deeper into him.

And just before your eyes fall shut, you hear him say it—quiet, more to himself than to you “so small, so mine.”

You wake up slow. Limbs heavy, thighs sore, skin warm. His hand is already curled around your hip under the blanket, thumb brushing your waist lazily, like he never stopped touching you even in his sleep.

You shift with a sleepy noise, nuzzling into his chest. He murmurs something low.

“Mm. Thought you’d run away,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

“I can’t feel my legs,” you softly whine, curling into him even more.

He huffs a laugh, hand tightening around your hip, “that’s not a complaint, is it?”

You pinch his side, and he groans dramatically.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“Only when I’m right,” he laughs, “come downstairs when you’re ready, I’m making pancakes,” he taps you butt as he stands up, leaving you to lounge on the bed a bit longer.

You emerge from the bedroom wrapped in one of his shirts—oversized and hanging low on your thighs. He’s barefoot, shirtless like he does this every day. Your hair melts as you note how fluffy his black hair looked.

He glances over his shoulder. The look he gives you is unfair—equal parts pleased and hungry.

“That mine huh?” he nods towards the shirt, amused. “Didn’t even ask.”

“I think I’ve earned the right to at least one shirt last night” you grin.

He chuckles, plate in hand as he slides it in front of you on the counter.

“Careful. You’re getting spoiled.”

You hop up onto the counter, tugging his shirt down on your thighs.

“I don’t mind.”

He stands between your knees without needing to ask, fork in hand. He feeds you the first bite himself, watching your mouth.

“My sweet girl.”

“You’re feeding me like I’m five,” you playfully complain, deflecting.

“Didn’t I tell you, pretty? I plan to spoil you rotten, besidesI like seeing you soft,” Sunghoon says, his eyes sparkling and a soft grin on his lips.

Your eyes flick up to his. “What does that mean?”

“That you let me take care of you,” he easily replies, tucking your hair behind your ear.

You’re breathless as you reply, “you’re not playing fair…”

But Sunghoon just chuckles, “I’m not playing at all.”

His fingers linger a second too long, grazing your cheek before slipping down your jaw. You blink at the weight of his gaze like he’s memorizing you. His thumb taps your bottom lip once, absently.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he murmurs. Not teasing. Just quiet, like a truth too heavy for the air.

Your pulse kicks, and when you look away, flustered, he lets you. Doesn’t push just rests his palm on your thigh, warm and grounding.

A moment passes like that. And as you reach for your juice, he tugs the hem of his shirt on you a little lower, eyes scanning your bare thighs.

“Don’t go outside in this.”

“Why? Afraid someone’ll see?” you tease.

“No. I just don’t like sharing,” he firmly replies, voice stern.

Your breath catches.

“Go finish eating. We’ve got all day.” He kisses your forehead.

The sun climbs higher. Warm light spills through the big windows, turning everything golden. You're curled up on the sofa, still wearing his shirt and nothing underneath but cotton panties, your legs stretched across the cushions.

“You look too pretty to waste the light,” Sunghoon says from across the room, holding his camera.

You blink up at him, amused. “Are you seriously about to make this a photoshoot?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t call it that.”

You tilt your head. “Then what would you call it?”

He lifts the camera halfway, gaze steady over the top of it. “Mine.”

Your throat tightens, pulse kicking up. You sit up slowly, legs tucking under you. “Tell me where you want me.”

He gestures toward the floor near the window where the light cuts in strong and clean. “There. Knees up. Just lean back on your hands.”

You settle into the pose, feeling a little silly, a little shy. But then he steps closer, lowering the camera for a moment.

“No, not like that,” he murmurs. “Chin up. That’s it. Now relax your mouth—yeah, like that.”

His fingers brush along your jaw to adjust the angle. Then lower, tracing a line from your throat to your collarbone.

He clicks the shutter.

You try to hide your shiver. “You’re not even looking at the pictures.”

“I’m looking at you,” he says, voice low.

Another shutter click.

He crouches down in front of you now, so close you can feel his breath. The lens barely a foot from your face. “This one’s just for me,” he says. “No one else gets to see you like this.”

Your thighs press together involuntarily.

“Sunghoon…”

He looks over the lens at you again, heat simmering in his gaze. “You like this. Knowing I’m the only one who’ll ever have this version of you.”

You swallow hard, voice quieter. “I do.”

He lowers the camera entirely now. “Good.”

You're still seated where he posed you, but your breathing has shifted — shallow, anticipatory.

Sunghoon sets the camera down on the nearby chair, but doesn’t move away. His fingers skim your jaw again, softer this time, trailing along the column of your throat.

“You’re warm,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Flushed everywhere.”

You feel it too — the heat that’s crawled up your chest, painted across your cheeks.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, trying to sound annoyed. It comes out breathless.

“Can’t,” he says simply. “You let me have this. You don’t get to complain now.”

Your stomach tightens at the word have.

He brushes your hair back over your shoulder, exposing your collarbone, your bare leg tucked under you. His eyes never stray far from your face — as if every shift of your expression matters.

“Why are you looking at me like I’m going to vanish?” you murmur.

His jaw ticks. “Because you might.”

You blink, thrown by the admission.

He cups your face with both hands now, firm but gentle, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “Do you even understand what you’re doing to me?” His voice is velvet-wrapped steel. “You let me take care of you. Let me see you like this. I don’t just want you anymore, sweetheart. I need you.”

Your lips part but you don’t know what to say. The gravity in his voice, in his touch—it hits you low, deep. And the wildest part?

You love it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you murmur, but lean into his hands anyway.

“Why not?” he asks, brushing his nose along yours. “You want gentle? I can be gentle. You want rough, you just have to say the word. But don’t ask me to be casual.”

He shifts to sit behind you, legs bracketing your body as he draws you against his chest, palms slowly smoothing over your bare thighs.

“I’m not sharing,” he says quietly against your ear. “Not your body. Not your time. Not your smile.”

You tilt your head back against him, eyes fluttering closed.

“You’re getting worse,” you whisper, teasing, but there’s no real fight in it.

“I know,” he says, dragging his mouth along your shoulder. “And you love it.”

And you do.

God, you do.

You feel him smile against your skin — slow and smug — before he lifts the camera again, his fingers adjusting the lens like it’s second nature.

“Let’s try something,” he murmurs, tone deceptively casual. “Lean forward for me a little. Just rest on your hands.”

You obey, your palms flattening on the hardwood floor in front of you, back arching slightly. He hums in approval behind you, one large hand gliding up your spine to encourage the motion further.

“Good girl. Now—eyes here.”

You glance over your shoulder, and the click of the shutter follows instantly.

“Perfect,” he praises, the warmth in his voice making your stomach flutter. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me like this.”

“You’re the one making me do it,” you mumble, flushed.

“Correction,” he says, lowering the camera slightly. “I’m just helping you play.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips out — breathless, soft. “Play, huh?”

He shifts behind you, one hand pressing lightly to the small of your back. “Mm. Sit up again. Just like before. Keep your knees bent, feet tucked close.”

You adjust, trying not to overthink it — but then his hands slide along your inner thighs to reposition them just slightly wider. Your breath catches.

“Yeah, like that,” he says lowly. “That’s the shot.”

You swallow, your skin prickling with awareness as you feel how close he is, how warm his breath is at your neck again.

“Smile for me,” he murmurs, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You try — you really do — but it comes out more like a shy smirk.

Click.

He lowers the camera, lips ghosting near your ear. “Now lose the shirt.”

Your head turns sharply, eyes wide.

His voice is gentle, coaxing. “Just turn your back to me. Let me see your skin. Nothing I haven’t already memorized.”

The way he says it makes your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to,” he adds, though his fingers are already curling at the hem of the shirt.

You pause for a second, then slowly unbutton it, letting it fall down your shoulders, your back remaining to him as he asked.

He draws in a slow, audible breath. “You’re so good like this,” he says. “Soft. Obedient. Trusting.”

Your whole body hums.

He sets the camera down now, forgotten. His hands trail up your sides, slow and reverent. You lean back into him without thinking, and he wraps his arms around your middle, drawing you flush against his chest again.

“You really like taking pictures of me,” you whisper, dazed.

“No,” he says into your hair. “I like proof that you’re mine.”

You bite your lip, a warm ache blooming in your chest at the quiet, possessive honesty in his tone.

“Now,” he murmurs, lips brushing the edge of your jaw, “let’s play a little more.”

Then his phone buzzes. Sunghoon frowns as he checks the screen “it’s Jihoon.”

You freeze. Sunghoon answers. His tone shifts, cool and calm. You hear Jihoon’s muffled apologies to his dad through the phone, “I shouldn't have blown up like that… I can pick her up Sunday, give you both some space.”

You watch Sunghoon, waiting for the guilt to hit you. It never does. You watch the serious look on Sunghoon’s face, the way his jaw clenches. You bring a hand between your thighs, shifting your weight on it for just a second. Just to relieve a bit pressure.

Then you drop on all fours, waiting for him to look at you. When he does you crawl to him, sitting yourself in his lap. Sunghoon wraps an arm around you, thinking you want to cuddle because you feel bad.

But instead you pull his shirt up, hands exploring the strong and toned frame. You shift closer, crotch directly on his half hard dick.

Sunghoon shoots you a look. A warning.

But you continue, pressing your lips on his jaw. Sunghoon hisses when your finger traces his nipple, the hold around you tightens. And you can tell he is getting hard. And mad.

 “You said we had all day,” you seductively whisper in his free ear.

He clears his throat. Tries to keep talking to Jihoon, but his voice shakes slightly. You don’t listen to their conversation until your name is mentioned again.

“Anyway. You’ll bring her back, right?” you hear Jihoon ask Sunghoon. You tentatively roll your hips, pressing your pussy on him.

Sunghoon is deadly calm, as he speaks in a strained voice, his hand griping the phone, knuckles white.

“Yeah. I’ll handle her, I mean I’ll see she comes to the city safely.”

Then he hangs up mid-sentence, tosses the phone onto the sofa, as he grabs your jaw, clearly mad.

“You really don’t care about playing nice, do you?” he scolds, pushing you back and forth on his lap, fully hard now.

“You started it,” you whisper, shameless as you moan. “Please Hoonie, I want more,” you beg, fisting his shirt.

“Yeah? You like it when Mr. Park lets you play?” he asks, voice deep. He lets you hump yourself against him just watching you, gaze serious, brows furrowed slightly. But you don’t notice.  

“Mhm,” you say blissfully. Hugging him to you, your tits press against his chest and he twitches.

Sunghoon sneaks his hands between the two of you, pulling his cock out.

“But you haven’t been playing nice, doll” he tells you and lands a smack against your ass.

You cling to him, position yourself so your clothed pussy is touching his dick. Mewls turn into whimpers as pushes you off of him.

“Come here,” he tells you, seating himself on the sofa, legs spread. His hand is on his dick, lids heavy as he watches you.

“No, not like that” he scolds, “crawl like you did before.”

You clench around nothing as you go on all fours, padding towards him. Eyes on his dick, when he sees your gaze he teases you. Gripping his cock, lip caught between his teeth as he strokes himself.

You stop at his feet and Sunghoon pulls you up by your upper arms, bending you over his lap. He roughly pulls your panties off and you clench when the cold air hits your wet pussy.

“You think it’s funny? Grinding on me while I’m talking to him?” Sunghoon asks, voice low as he rubs your exposed ass, touch deceptively soft.

He spanks you again, a sharp clap of sound that makes you whimper.

“Do you know what you sounded like? Panting into my neck while I’m trying to keep my voice steady?” he continues, fondling your ass as he speaks before he lands another spank on your pink ass. This one harder, the sting makes you hiss upon impact.

“Princess. That wasn’t cute. That was reckless,” he scolds you, hand resting on your lower back.

You wriggle, needy for his touch and he lets out a laughs. He grabs your hips, stilling you.

“Don’t squirm like that unless you want more,” he says, breathing hard. And you feel his dick poking you, can feel the precum leaking onto you where his dick presses into your plush skin.

He runs his hand over the curve of your ass in a brief caress, before another sharp slap lands.

“Making me hard while I’m talking to your boyfriend. Is that what you wanted?” he asks, breathless. Then in three quick succession slap, slap, slap.

But you liked being punished, so you test his patience, teasing “you were already hard before I moved.”

“And now look what you’ve earned. Mr. Park can’t even take one call without his little one acting up,” he growls, spanking you once again and your ass is starting to hurt. But you invite the pain, lean into the sting as your thighs rub together.

He leans close to you, lips brushing your ear, “you think I won’t punish you just because you’re cute? Think again, baby,” he slowly speaks, possessively.

He pulls you up and you cringe, your ass sensitive from the spanking. It hurts to sit down on him and you lift on your feet hovering over him in a crouching position.

Sunghoon just watches you amused, but then. He rubs his dick against your pussy. You sigh, looking down and watch as he wedges it between your lips.

“Such a pretty thing, just for me, for your Hoonie,” he breathes in a daze.

You nod, clenching down around nothing as you watch Sunghoon rub his dick on your pussy, spreading your wetness all over himself.

You softly moan when he pushes past your tight entrance, “want more,” you grind. Pushing down you sit yourself on him and Sunghoon brings you close to him by your hips.

His lips find yours in a surprisingly soft kiss, as you start to grind. Pushing up and down, slowly in an uneven rhythm.

You’re already a whining mess, your eyes shut as you let Sunghoon kiss you. He slips his tongue in your mouth and you’re like putty in his hands.

He plays with you, hands over your boobs, pinching and scratching lightly. You’re numb with pleasure, cock drunk as your Hoonie starts thrusting upwards.

You come undone at the same time, orgasm crashing into you in strong waves. Sunghoon watches you, and you don’t notice when he reaches for his phone, snapping another photo of you looking so small and so sexy on him as you come undone.

You collapse against his chest, body boneless, breath hitching as the aftershocks ripple through you. He’s still buried deep, arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’s anchoring you to earth.

You’re only just coming back to yourself when you hear the shutter click.

Your head jerks up, eyes wide. “Did you just—?”

He smirks, absolutely unapologetic as he shows you the photo: you, flushed and undone, mouth parted, nails dug into his forearm. “Couldn’t help myself. Look at you,” he murmurs. “You don’t even know how good you look when you fall apart.”

You swat weakly at his shoulder, more flustered than angry. “You’re insane.”

“Mm,” he hums, kissing your temple. “over you.”

He pulls out slowly, groaning at the mess you’ve both made, and then scoops you up like it’s nothing. You squeak in protest.

“Put me down!”

“No,” he says simply. “You can barely stand. That was the point.”

You hide your face in his neck, skin still burning. He takes you upstairs.

Once inside the bedroom, he lays you gently on your stomach, palms trailing down the backs of your thighs before he pulls away. The bed shifts with his weight, and then you hear him rummaging softly through a drawer.

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Just stay right there.”

You glance over your shoulder, lids heavy, and catch the glint of a container in his hand. Vaseline.

Your stomach flips.

You flinch slightly as the cold ointment hits your skin. “Ah—” “I know,” he says softly, stroking it in with care. “Shh, I’ve got you.”

His fingers massage it in slowly, deliberately. Tender, as though undoing the sting of every sharp smack from earlier. “You’re red,” he mutters under his breath, thumb brushing a particularly sore patch. “Should’ve gone easier.”

“No,” you mumble. “You were perfect.”

A beat. His hand pauses.

“You always say the filthiest things, and then turn around and say shit like that.” He leans in, pressing a long kiss to the base of your spine. “Gonna ruin me.”

You hum in response, half asleep already.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝𓆝 𓆟

A Bit Later… You wake to the soft crinkle of blankets on the living room floor.

Sunghoon’s back from the kitchen, a tray in hand — cut fruit, chocolate, a bottle of wine, and a heating pad that he doesn’t say anything about, just plugs in and tucks gently under your thighs when you sit down with a tiny wince.

You’re wrapped in one of his hoodies now. No underwear. He let you keep it.

The music playing is soft and dreamy. Something instrumental. The air smells like strawberries and lavender soap.

Sunghoon sits beside you, legs spread lazily, shirt halfway buttoned and sleeves rolled to the elbow. His eyes are heavy-lidded, but sharp — always watching.

You curl up beside him again. He opens his arm and pulls you in without asking.

“You good, baby?” he asks, brushing a knuckle under your jaw. “Mhm,” you whisper, nuzzling into his chest. “Warm.”

He presses a kiss to your hairline. “You did so well today. My good girl.”

Your fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt. The compliment sinks deep — deeper than it should.

“I like it when you take care of me,” you murmur.

He exhales through his nose, tipping his head back. “Yeah. I know you do.”

A few moments pass in comfortable silence.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you ask, quieter. “Me being like this?”

Sunghoon shifts to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his. His expression is unreadable at first — then softens.

“No,” he says. “I think it’s perfect.”

You hold his gaze for a beat too long.

Then you speak, even softer.

“You’ll spoil me.”

He smirks faintly. “That’s the plan.”

And spoil you, he does.

You spend the day camped out on the living room floor, a makeshift indoor picnic laid over the throw blankets and couch cushions Sunghoon pulled down with quiet intention. There’s a soft jazz record playing in the background and between bites of fruit and chocolate, he feeds you with his fingers, eyes never straying far from your mouth.

At some point you curl up in his lap with a glass of wine, and he reads to you from whatever book you pulled off his shelf, voice smooth and low in your ear. The sunlight drifts lazily across the floorboards. You don’t notice how much time passes — just that it feels suspended. Like nothing outside this cabin exists.

He’s good at that — creating small, perfect worlds for you to collapse into.

Sunghoon’s fingers stroke idle lines across your lower back. You feel him breathe. Slow. Anchored.

Neither of you says much. There’s no need.

Eventually, he murmurs, “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart.”

You nod against his neck, already half-asleep, letting him guide you. You don’t even remember falling asleep.

You wake in his bed again, the morning sunlight streaming in.

Sunghoon’s already dressed, sitting behind you with his legs spread, guiding a comb gently through your hair. You’re settled between his thighs, back to his chest, eyes still heavy with sleep.

“You always wake up first,” you mumble.

“I like watching you sleep,” he says, not missing a beat.

The comb glides through another section. “It’s calming,” he adds. “You look like you trust me.”

“I do.”

He pauses at that — just a beat — then keeps combing, slower now.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the hush of the room, the smell of his cologne clinging to the shirt you still haven’t given back, the lazy warmth of early sun.

Then he speaks again, voice low beside your ear. “Finish waking up, sweetheart. We’ve got a place to be.”

You shift slightly, eyes cracking open. “Where are you taking me?”

“The lake.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “We’re leaving in an hour. I packed wine. Fruit. Towels. Blanket.”

You turn in his lap to face him, grinning now, suddenly wide awake. “You planned a date?”

His smile matches yours. “You deserve one. A real one. No interruptions. No guilt. Just you and me.”

You stretch your arms up, still nestled between his thighs. “Guess I better get ready, Mr. Park.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty,” he says, but doesn’t let go just yet — he pulls you in for a slow, warm kiss first.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

Sunlight sparkles off the water. A breeze rolls across the dock. Everything is golden and quiet and slow.

You’re both barefoot on the wooden planks, dripping after a swim, wrapped in towels and each other. Sunghoon hands you a slice of peach. You feed him the next one.

For a while, you just lie there on the blanket, the world held at bay.

Then you speak. “It’s weird to think this ends tomorrow.”

Sunghoon’s quiet for a second, “it doesn’t have to.”

You blink over at him.

“We go back,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean we go back to how things were. I don’t want to.”

You trace a finger over his forearm. “Me either.”

He watches you. “This wasn’t a fling for me. You know that, right?”

“I know.” You sit up, eyes on the water now. “It wasn’t for me either. And... I want more.”

There’s a stretch of silence that isn’t uncomfortable — just real.

Then Sunghoon speaks, voice gentle but unwavering. “Jihoon didn’t just leave you here. He left you alone for a long time before that.”

You inhale through your nose. It hurts — but it’s true.

“He didn’t protect you. He didn’t see you,” Sunghoon adds. “But I do.”

You turn to him. “And I see you, too. I don’t want to sneak around or feel guilty. I want to be with you.”

His hand slides around your thigh. “Then be with me.”

You nod. “Okay.”

It’s said so simply. Like it was always going to happen this way.

The air is warm, the late morning sun painting everything golden. You’re both still sticky with fruit juice and the tipsiness of wine-soft smiles when Sunghoon eyes you sideways.

“You’ve got that look,” you say warily.

“What look?”

“The one that says you’re about to do something stupid.”

He grins. “I’m hurt. This is going to be very dignified.”

“You’re literally crouching like a cartoon villain.”

“Princess, I’m just trying to bring balance to the universe.”

“What does that even mean—Sunghoon—!”

But he’s already lunging.

You shriek and take off across the dock, laughing so hard your legs barely move straight. He’s right behind you, water splashing around your ankles as you try to dodge.

“You’re gonna pay for this!”

“For what?! Being charming?!”

“For splattering me with peach juice!”

He grabs you around the waist, and the two of you topple into the lake in a messy, dramatic splash. The water is cold but refreshing, and when you surface, hair plastered to your face, you’re both wheezing with laughter.

“You look like a drowned kitten,” he says, absolutely delighted.

“Rude. And you look like you just lost a shampoo commercial.”

You splash him in the face before he can respond.

“Oh, it’s on now.”

You flail as he comes after you, hands trying to grab your ankles underwater. There’s shrieking. More splashing. You push his head under once — a bold move — and he resurfaces with water dripping down his lashes, mock-offended.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

“You love me,” you say smugly, swimming just out of reach.

He lunges. “Not if you keep talking like that—!”

Eventually you give in, breathless, letting him pull you close in the center of the lake. His arms wind around your waist, and you float there together, the water gently rocking your bodies.

Your laughter fades into warm quiet, cheek resting against his damp shoulder.

“I haven’t laughed like that in forever,” you murmur.

Sunghoon presses a kiss to your hair. “Same.”

Later, you walk back to the cabin hand in hand, skin sun-warmed and soft from the lake. He carries the towels; you carry the last of the fruit. Everything about it feels easy. Shared.

The next morning, the day of going back home, you pull your suitcase out from under the bed, still in one of his shirts.

Sunghoon’s already halfway through folding your clothes for you, methodical and quiet, each movement precise. You watch him for a moment—brows furrowed, fingers smoothing fabric—and grin sleepily.

“You always like playing house this much?”

He looks up. “What?”

“You fold clothes like a husband,” you tease, nudging his foot with yours.

He chuckles but doesn’t stop. “And you wear my shirts like my wife.”

You hum, walking over and leaning your head on his shoulder. His hand reaches for your waist, grounding. A soft forehead kiss follows, like it’s instinct now.

As you zip your duffel shut, you notice something nestled inside: his hoodie, a polaroid, and a paperback novel you’d been eyeing on the cabin shelf.

You blink. “You packed these?”

Sunghoon shrugs, brushing your arm as he walks by. “Now you have to come back.”

You look up at him. “Don’t worry,” you say, voice light but sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

In the car, the playlist is a mix of both your tastes. It’s playing low as the trees blur past outside. You’re curled in the passenger seat, feet on the dash, humming to the music. You catch him looking at you at a red light, when you’ve reached the civilization again.

“What?” you ask.

“Just wondering if you’re gonna pretend you’re too cool to be seen with me after I drop you off.”

You scoff. “We literally live twenty minutes apart.”

He smirks. “Fifteen if I drive like a crazy person, which I am for you,” he says, hand resting on your thigh as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building, turning the ignition off.

You share a deep kiss, your hands cupping his jaw, his on the back of your neck. He pulls away first, flushed cheeks and breathing heavy.

He taps your thigh gently. “Come on, let me carry your suitcase up.”

You roll your eyes but smile, as he unlocks the car door. “You just want an excuse to come upstairs.”

“Maybe I just want to make sure you get inside safe,” he says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase with one hand and slinging your tote bag over his shoulder with the other. “Can’t help it. I’m responsible.”

You snort. “Husband behavior.”

Sunghoon smirks. “You’re not the first person to say that.”

“You better not be serious,” you deadpan, nudging him with your shoulder as you both head inside.

Once inside your apartment, you toe off your shoes and flick on the lights while Sunghoon sets your suitcase neatly by the couch. Everything looks a little dustier than you remembered. Like your old life is already softening around the edges.

“Wanna eat something before you go?” you ask as you scroll for the takeout app.

“I already ordered,” he says, smug, showing you his phone. “It’s on the way.”

You blink. “You ordered for both of us?”

He shrugs, casually leaning against your counter. “Figured you’d be too tired to cook after all the swimming... and making out.”

“Wow.” You press a hand to your chest, feigning shock. “Romantic and cocky.”

He winks.

The food arrives, and the two of you eat cross-legged on the floor, a movie playing low in the background. It’s peaceful. Cozy. But there’s something pressing in the air, unspoken but understood. When the containers are empty and the credits start to roll, Sunghoon doesn’t make a move to linger.

He leans in to kiss your cheek, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Call me after.”

You nod, eyes soft.

“I mean it,” he says, gaze holding yours. “Even if it’s late.”

You stand at the door, still barefoot, as he walks out. You watch until the elevator closes.

The apartment feels quieter now. Still carrying the scent of him.

You don’t hesitate as you find his contact in your phone and press call.

The knock at your door comes later than expected. You open it to find Jihoon standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, hood pulled up despite the heat. His eyes flick over your body—still wearing one of Sunghoon’s shirts—and narrow.

“Nice shirt,” he mutters, already walking past you into the apartment without being invited. “You two playing house now, or what?”

You don’t react. “There’s a box with your stuff in the hall closet.”

That stops him mid-step.

“What?”

You don’t flinch. “Take it. We’re done.”

He laughs. Sharp, disbelieving. “You’re breaking up with me now? After going off-grid for nearly a week? With my dad?”

“Jihoon.”

“No, seriously,” he says, throwing his arms out. “You disappear, don’t answer your phone, and when I do call, you’re suddenly all buddy-buddy with him? You think I’m an idiot?”

“I’m not doing this with you,” you say, voice still calm but harder now. “You made your choices when you left me there without a second thought. And now I’m making mine.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “You’re seriously choosing him? You couldn’t keep it in your pants for five days?”

“I think we both know you stopped loving me long before I ever looked twice at him.”

That hits. His jaw tightens.

“I waited,” you say quietly. “I tried. But you kept treating me like an inconvenience. Like I was always too much or not enough, depending on your mood.”

He doesn’t answer. Just stands there, breathing uneven.

You point toward the closet. “Your stuff’s in there. Take it and go.”

“You’re not even gonna pretend to be sorry about any of this?”

You shake your head. “No. I’m not.”

Jihoon exhales hard, scoffing again, then yanks open the closet door. Grabs the box. He pauses at the threshold, glaring at you like it’ll change something.

“You’ll regret this,” he mutters. “When he gets bored of you.”

You meet his eyes, steady. “I won’t.”

And then—finally—he leaves.

The door closes with a quiet finality.

This time, it stays closed. You go into your bedroom and sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, heart still beating steady and slow — not from nerves, but from clarity.

It’s done.

The apartment is quiet now. His box is gone. The door’s locked. You’re still wearing Sunghoon’s shirt.

You thumb open your messages first, but after a moment’s hesitation, you press call instead. He picks up before the first full ring.

“Hey,” Sunghoon says, voice low and warm.

You let out a soft breath. “It’s done.”

A pause. Then, “You okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see. “Yeah. I think I’ve been okay for a while, actually.”

Another beat of quiet, and then you hear his exhale — relieved, grounding.

“I wanted to do it face-to-face,” you add. “…didn’t go too well, I might have been too honest.”

“You didn’t owe him anything past your truth,” Sunghoon murmurs. “I’m proud of you.”

Your lips curve into a smile. “You always say the right thing.”

“I try,” he teases gently.

There’s a beat. You hear movement on his end. Maybe he’s in bed. Maybe pacing.

“I can come over,” he offers. “If you want.”

“I do,” you say, no hesitation. “But… no rush. Just knowing you’re there is enough.”

He hums, and you can almost feel his smile through the line.

“You were never too much, you know,” he says. “You’re just the right amount for me.”

That gets you. You blink hard. “Sunghoon…”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t get cocky just because you’re my boyfriend now.”

He chuckles. “Not cocky. Just… grateful.”

You both fall quiet again, but it’s the good kind. The safe kind.

“Call me if you need anything,” he says.

“I might just fall asleep on the phone with you.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed, sweetheart.”

You breathe in slow, gaze drifting to the camera polaroid he left in your bag — the one of you in his shirt, bare-legged, smiling like you already knew this was how it would end.

Or maybe, how it would begin.

“Goodnight, Mr. Park.”

You hear his smile in the dark.

“Goodnight, babygirl.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆝

🦭ིྀA/N: thank you for reading !!! I struggled so much with the first scene because it’s literally the two things I hate most: fighting and describing interior lmaoo but once I was past that it was super fun, hope everyone enjoyed reading (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

[moon-ttokki-x]

ooh could you do 53 & 64 with Hyunjin? you write really well!

. . . hey so this is super angsty bc ive kinda had a shit week so you guys are coming down with me HAHAHAHAH . also thank you for the compliment :>

unclicked - (bf!hwang hyunjin x fem!reader)

pairing: bf!hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

summary: hyunjin has been distant lately and you finally snap.

genre: idol!au, fem!reader, mentions of eating and drinking, kkami mention, mentions of feeling like throwing up, broken glass, mentions of injuries and crying, reader struggles with eating, mentions of neglect and apathy, hyunjin is kinda a jerk in this fic but i also feel bad so . . . you decide who the villain is

a/n: yeah so there's no happy ending, fuckers . . . be warned

🖤 prompts: 53. "Why are you so afraid of the truth?" / 64. "I thought I had everything figured out."

skz masterlist | skz prompt list

You had always been the affectionate type; gentle, loving, yet excitable. The type to ramble about your day over dinner while smiling and piling more food onto your plate, unaware of your lover's smitten gaze; the type that would have your arms open for Hyunjin when he came home from a long day at the company. He forever relished your comfort and the warmth of your body against his, always open to your soft words and cute smiles.

But lately, he had been distant.

Now he was out the door before you had even left the bed; always coming home late and never showing up when you needed him to. Like the time you smashed a glass and texted him asking for him to come home, but he didn't. So you cleaned it up and patched up your hand without him. Or like the time when you both finally had a day off and he spent it with the rest of his members even though you'd already made plans. You got left at home, alone, because all the rest of your friends had plans already and it wasn't like it mattered, anyway, that you were alone.

Not really. You'd chosen to understand rather than getting pissed off at him about it.

You weren't too sure about that decision now.

You sigh and begin to pick up the plates. You'd laid out dinner for two so both of you could sit and eat immediately after getting home, even though Hyunjin worriedly insisted you should eat even before he got back. You never listened, though, always wanting to share a meal with him while you both exchanged details about your days. It was one of your favourite parts of being with him; being able to welcome him home with a warm hug and a plate of good food.

But now it'd gone cold. And you were alone. Again.

The clock on the wall reads 10:43 PM.

Kkami runs up to you as you clatter dishes into the sink; he bounces hopefully around your feet, and you smile before giving him a forkful of the dinner. He yaps and licks it off messily, his high-pitched barks filling the empty apartment.

You don't bother taking any of the food for yourself, simply shoving it all into a plastic container and tossing it onto a shelf in the fridge. You were hungry when you were cooking; the rumbles of your stomach overlaid the noises of a knife against the chopping board and the simmering of the stove, but you just feel drained now. Too tired to eat, too defeated to care about the hollowness in your gut.

You wash up the remaining dishes and stack them neatly in the dishrack. Kkami comes up to you again, hoping for another bite, and you kneel down and scratch his fluffy head.

"Looks like it's just you and me," you say quietly. "Again."

The dog tilts his head, two black eyes in a mass of black and white fluff. He seems to understand, and he flops down on the floor while you run damp fingers through his fur.

"He's been coming home late so often," you mumble absentmindedly, still stroking the little dog. Your fingers pause.

He wouldn't cheat.

Would he?

No, you tell yourself, shaking your head to clear the thought out. Hyunjin wouldn't do that. He loves me, he cares for me. He clings to me every possible moment of the day. There's no way he would ever do something like that.

Then again...

He's surrounded by girls much prettier than I am. Girls that are slimmer, more feminine, girls that are a part of his world. Girls who are artists and singers and dancers just like he is. And it's not like I can measure up to them. I'm just me.

I'm just-

Kkami's incessant barking snaps you out of your thoughts. He's licking your hands, bouncing off the floor and around your crouched figure like a fluffy little pogo stick rather than a dog.

You realise what he's barking at. The salty drop of a tear pools in a little circle on the cold, tiled floor. Your face is wet.

Sniffling, having not even realised you were crying, you wipe a hand over your face, scrubbing harshly, and exhale a shaky breath.

"I'm okay," you say softly to the anxious little animal. "I'm fine. I just- I miss him. I don't know what i did wrong."

Kkami gets up and runs off. You sigh and watch him skid around the corner before standing up. Even the dog doesn't want to be around you.

You stand, wash your hands, then dry them, feeling lost. Suddenly, every movement feels like a tremendous effort. Your body feels slow and you feel a little dizzy. Maybe you should've eaten earlier.

The lock on the door unclicks.

Hyunjin enters the apartment, kicking off his shoes and locking the door behind himself. His hair is getting longer by the day, and he runs a veiny, ringed hand through the black spikiness of it as he drops his bag by the wall. He looks up, surprised, and his eyes meet yours.

You're stuck in place, rooted in fear. You're not sure why.

"Baby?" He says, voice floating over your head. "Why are you here?"

Your heart thuds dully. The first thing he says after coming home late. Again. He doesn't ask about the tears or the crying or the turned-off light or why you're still awake, no, he asks why you're here. Like you're a stray staff member on set rather than his lover at home.

"I live here, Hyunjin," you say coldly. The blood turns to ice in your veins, expression blank and unsurprised. "You would know that if you were actually home more often."

He flinches at your tone. Like he has no idea why you're upset to begin with. Like he hasn't been the sole cause of your misery for the past month. Like none of it is his fault.

He doesn't say anything. His expression betrays his feelings.

"Hyunjin," you say, in disbelief. He's not even trying to defend himself. He's just... standing there. The way you say his name makes you sound like you're begging and you hate yourself for it.

"Y/n, I just..." He runs a hand through his hair again, stepping forward. "I'm sorry, okay? I've been so stressed lately, and the tour preparation has taken so much out of me. I didn't mean to neglect you-"

"So you knew," you snap at him, tears welling. "I didn't say what was wrong, I never told you, but you knew. You knew that I felt alone and unappreciated."

He throws his hands up, exasperated. "I can't be there at your every beck and call, Y/n! I have my own life too!"

"So do I," you shout, voice rising. "I moved in with you so I'd be able to support you better, even if it meant that I had to travel further for work, even if it meant that I would get home later! I have my own life just as much as you do, Hyunjin, and it seems like all of it's going to waste-"

"It isn't!" He protests. "I like having you here-"

"But you're never here!" You cry finally. "Do you even love me anymore? Or do you just want to avoid me like you've been doing for the past month?"

Hyunjin sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Silence hangs over both of you like a heavy blanket, thick and suffocating. You can almost see the tension in the air, solid and unmoving.

He's a blurred shape in front of you, and you feel the hot streaking of tears down your face. You don't move, can't move.

"Y/n..."

You look up. Hyunjin looks defeated, tired, a quiet sort of finality settling behind his features. It makes him look so much older, that boyish charm and cheeky smile nowhere to be seen. And it breaks your heart more than he ever could. At least, you think so.

Your entire body feels rooted to the spot. Hyunjin steps behind the counter and sinks into a chair. The golden glow of the kitchen light above both of you does nothing to soften the moment.

"I really tried," he says quietly. Your heart thuds when he looks up at you, tears welling in his own eyes. "I tried to... Keep loving you."

Your mouth parts in distress, shocked. This isn't real. This isn't happening. "No."

His eyes are red-rimmed but his gaze is firm and set. "Why are you so afraid of the truth? Surely you understand that-"

"No!" You cry. You don't want to hear him say it, say that he doesn't love you anymore-

"I'm sorry," he says, a little louder. His voice cracks. "I just- I didn't know if I could make the time for you-"

"I did," you whisper fiercely. "I made time for you, for us, even when I had to sacrifice myself. Because I loved you more."

"You didn't have to do that-"

"I wanted to," you sob. "I made that choice, Hyunjin. Because I thought that if anyone could reciprocate the effort, if anyone could make me feel like the sacrifice was worth it, it was you."

"It's late," he whispers after a pause. "Please, come to bed with me. We can talk in the morning-"

"No."

Hyunjin goes silent. His eyes meet yours and there you stand, utterly defeated and exhausted, fed up, tired, and all the rest of it. But most of all, in disbelief. Because there's no way you thought this was going to happen. And the worst part is, you know exactly what you're supposed to do next. You knew this was coming, but now that it's here, you feel like throwing up.

He always said you were too independent for your own good.

"I thought I had everything figured out," you say weakly, a bitter smile curling the corners of your mouth. "And I did, but I see now that I'm the problem here. Not you."

A tear slips down Hyunjin's cheek. "That's not true."

"It is," you say, voice strong despite the salty tears streaking your face. "Because after a while, after all the lovebombing and the letters and gifts and dates and kisses, you stopped. Like you got bored of me, like I was just another one of your duties.

And you," you stab a finger at him, "You dragged it out instead of telling me, instead of wanting to fix us. You let me keep putting the effort in because you needed the love more than I did. You don't care about me, Hyunjin-"

"I do!" He cries. "I do care about you, Y/n, please, I love you. You mean so much to me, your effort makes such a difference, I'll do better, okay? I promise. Just please, please come to bed with me. It's late-"

"Oh, I know," you say venomously. "I know it's late, Hyunjin, because for the umpteenth time, your dinner got fed to Kkami instead of you. Because I'm such a fucking burden to you that you stay out late to avoid me."

You turn and grab your coat off the hook by the door. You cast him one last glance over your shoulder, bones made of concrete, limbs like unoiled joints. Tears soak your skin, irritated and sticky and puffy, but you slot your key in the door despite the watery blur in your vision. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of his voice. There's a thud and you know he's on his knees.

"Y/n," he cries, a choked sob leaving his throat, raw and strangled. "Please don't leave me. Please, okay? I'll do better."

You turn the key. "We're done, Hyunjin. I'll send someone to get my things."

You slam the door behind yourself, flying down the corridor, almost stumbling in the wake of your misery. Regret and guilt and determination flood your system so suddenly that you actually believe for a second that you might pass out.

But you don't. So you opt for the stairs instead of the lift, too afraid to stop moving, to stop and contemplate, then clatter down the levels, and disappear into the night, not knowing where you're going but knowing exactly what you've left behind.

Up in the apartment, Hyunjin screams.

a/n: oof . div by @kodaswrld

ttokki's taglist: @emilyywhyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @sillyseob @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby @mbioooo0000 @akindaflora @tsunderelino @hhwangsmoon @crazyforthatbangchandude @bluebellsringinghereandthere @ladylexis @tillaboo @geni-627 @jsngprk-vhs @stellasays45 @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca @luvvchn

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[blueblossomcherry]

LITTLE MOMENTS ౨ৎ stray kids

🦢 ——— my universe was bright because of you

▫️ skz (hyung line) x f reader 1k fluff, mdni

▫️ layout ib @bbokvhs

READING HIS DAUGHTER TO SLEEP ౨ৎ bang chan

౨ৎ As Chan walks through the front door of your shared apartment, he sees your daughter in your arms, smiling and giggling at the tv. When he looked closer, though, he could see just how much you were struggling to hold your eyes open. Dropping his bag, he walked toward you, smiling as your daughter started reaching out to him.

“Hello, my love.” He tells her, picking her up and cuddling her. You felt your body jump at the sound of his voice. Your daughter had been so hyper today, not letting you take a break for more than 5 minutes, so you were more focused on “resting your eyes” more than anything at that moment. “Did I scare you, baby?” He laughed quietly, as your daughter nuzzled her head in his neck.

“I didn’t hear the door open.” You mumbled, tiredly. You snuggled into the couch and Chan smiled at you. “You should go to sleep, baby, I can put our girl to bed.” He tells you, gently scratching your scalp. You hummed in agreement as he walked towards your daughter’s room.

When he got into the room, he set your daughter onto her bed and tucked her in. He then grabbed a book and sat on the edge of her bed. “Once upon a time,” He reads, dramatically. As he reads more and more, he sees your daughter’s eyes slowly closing. He shuts the book and gets off of the bed. “Goodnight, my love.” He whispers to her, kissing her forehead and walking out of the room.

COOKING WITH HIS DAUGHTER ౨ৎ lee minho

౨ৎ As Minho starts getting the ingredients out to make dinner, he hears loud and fast footsteps coming down the hallway. “Daddy, can I help?” Your daughter asks him as she intertwines her hands, a bright smile on her face and her eyes sparkling in the light. “I thought I told you not to bother your dad while he’s making our dinner.” You said to your daughter, trailing past her and sitting on the couch. 

“But mommy, I just want to help him.” She whined, as you looked at Minho pointedly. “It’s okay, she can help.” Minho told you, smiling softly at his daughter’s eagerness to help him. Picking her up and sitting her on the counter, he swiftly handed your daughter the vegetables that needed to be washed. He watched as your daughter made a disgusted face at the green foods. Turning on the water, he allowed her to wash the vegetables as much as she wanted while he got a knife and cutting board. 

“Give me some vegetables.” Minho told her, placing the cutting board on the counter. Watching your daughter, you could tell she was starting to get distracted. You got off of the couch and walked over to the two. “Mommy, can you let me down?” She asked quietly, looking down shyly. You nodded and picked her up, laughing at Minho’s reaction to her question. Once you set her down, she hugged Minho’s leg quickly and ran to her room giggling. 

“Still need help?” You asked Minho, laughing.

TEA PARTY WITH HIS DAUGHTER ౨ৎ seo changbin

౨ৎ As Changbin sits at a tiny table, his daughter smiling brightly at him, he’s never been more proud to put a smile on someone’s face. With fairy wings on his back, a plastic crown on his head, and a pink tutu on his waist, all he could think about was how happy his daughter was right now.  

“Woah, I didn’t know Princess Changbin was paying us a visit today.” You exclaim as you walk into the room. Upon hearing your sentence, your daughter starts giggling, running over to Changbin and tightly hugging him. “Well, Princess Changbin just had to see her favorite person ever.” Changbin replied, tickling your daughter and smiling.

You smile widely, watching the interaction between your husband and child. Moments like these were your favorite. Seeing the sweet interactions between your little family. Hearing your daughter’s happy little screams and loud giggles when she’s with her father. “Mommy, come sit with us.” Your daughter says as she appears in front of you with her hands clasped in front of her. She quickly grabs your hand and drags you over to the table, next to Changbin.

“I need to find you an outfit, mommy.” She gasped, running to the other side of her room to look through her closet. You smiled brightly, as Changbin pulled you closer to him and kissed your forehead.

DRESS UP WITH HIS DAUGHTER ౨ৎ hwang hyunjin

౨ৎ As you were in the middle of folding clothes, you suddenly felt a tug of your shirt. Looking down, you see your daughter looking at you with puppy dog eyes. The same puppy dog eyes that your husband gives you when he wants something from you. “Will you teach me how to braid hair?” She pleads, pouting her lips. “You are definitely your father’s daughter.” You smile softly. 

“Come on, we can practice on daddy.” You tell her, gently pinching her cheek. She cheers, running excitedly to the living room. When you get there, your daughter immediately jumps into Hyunjins arms. He wraps his arms around her and smothers her in kisses. “What are my girls doing?” He asks happily, as your daughter’s giggles nearly drown him out.

“Your daughter wants to learn how to braid-” You didn’t even have to finish your sentence. Hyunjin was already in the process of letting his hair down. “You’re so dramatic.” You say, smiling as Hyunjin dramatically flips his hair. “Come see, my love.” You tell your daughter as she gets off of Hyunjin’s lap. You start showing her how to braid and she quickly picks it up. Seeing that she doesn’t need your help anymore, you get up to go finish the laundry.

When you finish the laundry, you decide to go see what your daughter was doing as she was way too quiet. Walking back into the living room, you find your husband and daughter, both with their hair covered in braids.

“Wow, don’t you two look pretty?” You say, smiling softly.

᥉tella speaks ౨ৎ thank you for the support on my works

᥉tella’s thoughts ౨ৎ dad! skz is so cute

[kpopsexstories]

NCT 127 Dating Ban #6: Doyoung Pt. 2/2

NCT 127 can’t date girls. As their gay friend you help them out with their sexual needs.

This is a 100% gay smut story. Check out this post for my straight smut and this post for more gay smut.

Pairing: NCT Doyoung x Male Reader

Story: While you have sex in his room Doyoung opens up to you and reveals a big secret about your best friend.

Type of Sex: MEDIUM

Word Count: 3.7k (5.8k including Part 1)

-> Learn more about the NCT 127 Dating Ban series and read previous stories.

You're standing by the foot of Doyoung's bed, about to go for a ride in it. Jaehyun has just stormed out. You never meant to bother him but didn't realize he was in the room. And now you're left with a negative feeling, a sinking heart and regret.

“Maybe we shouldn't do this,” you say and look at Doyoung on the bed. He's laying there casually but on full alert, leaning on his elbows, and a part of you thinks he no longer wants to. Not after what just happened.

“What?” Doyoung exclaims. He looks surprised, desperate even. He's afraid you don't want him and that his chance is about to slip away.

“I don't belong here,” you explain.

Doyoung seems to ponder your words. It's true, maybe you don't. Sure, you’re Haechan's friend and that makes you everyone's friend by association, but he also just invited you over for sex and everyone knows that. You don't really know his friends, Doyoung included. Your history and relationship with Jisung and even some of the other dreamers is much deeper than what you have with 127, but none of them are here. Is your presence in the dorm even justified?

You're just a stranger, a guest who might already have overstayed your welcome, four days into your visit. At least that's what you now think and feel, after Jaehyun stormed out in such anger.

Doyoung suddenly starts to laugh. You look at him sideways and begin to smile. Then you can't help but join him, infected by his positive outburst.

The situation is comical. There you are, two horny men looking for love in the wrong place. You're standing there like an idiot with your hard dick in your hand, looking at Doyoung's naked body, recovering from the shock of Jaehyun's surprise appearance.

What should really surprise you though is Jaehyun's apparent disapproval. As you may recall, you were once in an orgie with him and the dreamers. If anyone should be as happy about your presence as Haechan is it's him.

The reason it doesn't is because you don't even remember that he was there that time. It was so brief, and you were so focused on all the other men in the room. Why he reacted so strongly today is a mystery, but it's one you don't really think about in this moment.

The fact that Doyoung seems so relaxed about what just happened makes you feel more at ease. And you're still horny and eager to continue down your list. If Doyoung isn't fazed by Jaehyun's reaction then neither are you, and it's really no secret that you want Doyoung at least half as much as he wants you. The fact that you came with him to his room should mean something.

You wait a moment for the shock and laughter to settle before you return to your most recent lover. Slowly you crawl onto the bed to join him, wondering if he'll push you away.

He doesn't. He wants you there with him. And in an instant you forget all about everything else.

You look at the naked man flaunting his slim body in front of you. He smiles, but stops when you grab his dick and giggle. Then he giggles too, a continuous chuckle of amusement rather than fear of having been caught, and thanks to that reaction to your hand on his boner your hopes are confirmed.

Right here, right now, you do belong after all. Not even Jisung – your best friend whom you now know Doyoung has been having regular sex with for months – is there to tell you anything different.

The moment seems so much lighter again, when the make-out session Jaehyun interrupted resumes. It's slower and softer this time, and you wrap yourselves in each other's arms and legs, feeling and exploring each other's bodies.

But you're no longer devouring each other like you did before. Instead you gently roll around in the sheets while occasionally giggling, your dicks playing and bodies moving as one.

It feels good. Real nice and arousing, like soft, wonderful foreplay. Doyoung is a good guy, and you're glad he's not upset about the way you interrupted him the other day, when you technically stole Jisung away from him. And that Jaehyun was even there is entirely forgotten.

He's fucking hot, **you think while you kiss Doyoung's soft lips and feel his smooth skin. Love has never been on your mind before, but something suddenly feels different this time.

If only you had a better sense of empathy, you might have figured out that Doyoung does have strong feelings about your presence too, and that you're in his bed for a reason beyond being horny. That reason is exactly why it feels different with him compared to being fucked by, or fucking, his friends.

His heart is filled with a deep infatuation, one you've yet to realize he carries. It's one you probably shouldn't mess with, and what you're doing in bed with the man right now is actually a big risk.

What you're doing with Doyoung right now has the power to break hearts. Maybe Jaehyun knows something about that, and that's why he stormed out.

*****

When you walked in on Doyoung with Jisung the latter was riding the former. The image is vivid in your mind, permanently etched to your brain. Maybe that's why you are drawn to a similar position.

Doyoung is leaning against the wall behind him, his hands resting on your hips and thighs. You're sitting on his lap and kissing him softly, gently riding his cock in wide but slow motions.

The dick is pointing straight up and into your ass. It's swallowed whole by your hole, tightly gripped as you move in long, deep rolls that are getting increasingly passionate with each repeat.

He rubs you in just the right place. His dick is the perfect fit, and the sex feels better and more intimate than most other times with the boys.

You pant softly into Doyoung's mouth. Maybe Jaehyun's words are still with you and you feel a need to keep it down. Unlike some of his friends though Doyoung is more caring, and you get a sense that it's not a hot and wild release he's after but something else, something more meaningful.

You don't mind that at all. In fact it feels good that things are a little less wild. You could use a break after the eventful and crazy day you've already had, when you had sex with Haechan in the shower and later Taeyong in the studio.

Three NCT members in a day. That's got to be a record.

It's certainly highly unlikely that anyone else in the world can boast about that achievement.

Doyoung moves his hands gently up and down your body. They feel sweet when he strokes your skin, from your thighs and hips, to your waist and chest and down again.

His eyes are full of lust when you meet them. Sometimes he wraps his arms around your back when your lips and tongues touch. And the dick throbbing inside you rubs you so good, your heart is suddenly pierced with sexual energy.

What you're really feeling is indeed something deeper than just sex for the sake of release. It's not love either though, at least not from your side.

You don't even know the man after all. But he is on to something when he suddenly asks, “Do you miss him?”

You stop rocking your ass back and forth and look Doyoung straight in the eye. “Who?” you ask while catching tour breath, and stroking his face with the palm of your hand.

“Jisung. You're his best friend right?”

“Yeah,” you say and smile. “But no, not really.”

“Why not?” Doyoung asks and raises his eyebrows. He expected a different answer, a form of confirmation of his own thoughts and feelings on the matter.

“We've been apart for much longer. I'll see him tomorrow so I haven't really thought about it. We normally don't see each other for months.”

“Tomorrow?” Doyoung asks and suddenly pulls himself slightly up on the bed. He seems confused, but also cautiously happy.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Are you going to his parents’?”

“No. He's coming back tomorrow night.”

You can tell by the look on his face that Doyoung had no idea. You suddenly think that he's jealous.

“Don't worry,” you add. “I came for Haechan. You heard him yourself, he didn't even know I was coming. I'm not gonna get in the way of your sex life.”

You kind of already have though. If given the choice of who should satisfy his needs Jisung would choose you. You know that and maybe you need to talk to your friend, to let him know that even though he's coming back early to see you, and cutting his time with his parents short to spend time with you, you're not visiting Seoul to sleep with him.

It was Haechan who invited you. It's him you should stay with. He's someone who can easily fill any needs you might have yourself, and leaving his bed would be rude.

Not that you need Haechan either though, considering how well things are going with 127 as a whole. There's plenty of hot men eager to be with you.

Doyoung decides to take your word for it. Or rather, he doesn't think he can trust what you're saying at all, but feels like he has no choice. If not, his heart is the one that will be broken.

“I-,” he says but is interrupted when you abruptly come in for a kiss.

“What?” you whisper and smile.

“Nothing,” Doyoung says and tries to pull you closer with a hand around your back.

But you resist. You feel like he was about to say something important and want to hear it.

“No, what?” you say while fighting back. He only pushes you harder and the naked struggle makes you giggle. “Tell me!”

Doyoung quickly gives up. His arms fall down your sides and he sinks into the mattress still balls deep inside you. “I love him,” he says, the second risk he's taken with you tonight.

It makes you blink. “Oh,” you say and stiffen. Then you relax your muscles and sink down too. You begin to slowly pull away but he stops you by grabbing your arm.

You stare into each other’s eyes. What he just dropped is a bombshell. Even with all the intimacy that's been going around, other than the idea of Yuta and Taeyong as an ex couple torn apart by an unjust society, love really isn't a subject that has crossed your mind.

Not until now that is. Imagine that, Jisung with a boyfriend. Your Jisung in a committed relationship. It would be a big deal to you even if it was with a girl, but now it's with a man and that's huge. It would make you very happy and the idea of it makes you feel all warm and giddy.

Doyoung is perhaps the last person you would ever have expected for him. But that only goes to show how little you know the friends of your friends.

The more you think about it the more you can see it. Doyoung seems caring and sweet, and you know Jisung is of a similar nature. Sure, one is somewhat older than the other, but you quickly start to think that they would actually be really good together.

Of course you're totally jumping the gun here. You don't know what Jisung feels about it, he's never talked about Doyoung at all before this week. And you're not even sure Doyoung meant what he said in the strong way you interpreted it.

But you do know they have a great sex life, and when that thought pops into your head you can't help but chuckle.

“What?” Doyoung asks, suddenly feeling worried. He just opened up his heart to you and revealed his biggest secret, one Jisung himself doesn't even know yet. And there you are, sitting on his lap with his hard dick which is actually getting soft in your ass, seemingly laughing at him.

“I think you'd be amazing together,” you say to summarize your thoughts and speak them out loud to the poor man below you.

“Oh yeah?” Doyoung says, and you can't tell if he's excited to hear that or if he doesn't believe a word of what you're saying.

“Oh yeah,” you echo while smiling seductively. You resume the slow rocking of your body again, an instinctive action as your mind has realized that Doyoung's dick is losing steam.

You lean in and kiss. Doyoung becomes tense and lifts his upper body slightly to meet your lips.

“I think…” you say and kiss him again.

“…that you…”

“…would make a great…”

“…couple.”

With each kiss and jolt Doyoung pulls himself higher. His dick hardens and he's eager to feel and hear your words.

“Yeah?” he whispers and sticks out his tongue.

“Mmm, yeah,” you say in an intimate voice and raise your ass a little higher.

Doyoung's whole body suddenly jerks. He wraps his arms around you and sits up straight. You make out with passion, tongues and lips smacking together, while your hands move up and down each other's sides.

The man is smooth and soft to touch. He feels warm and fills your heart with joy. He moves his hips up and down a couple of times while raising and bending his knees behind you, then takes a firm grip around your lower back and moves you to the foot of the bed.

You end up in the exact same place and position you found him in with Jisung. The make-out session doesn't stop, but the dick goes deeper in your hole when you fold yourself around the man and hang on to his neck.

“Mmm, mm, mmmm,” Doyoung moans softly as you make out. He's got his eyes closed and is hugging you tight.

“Mm, yeah,” you whisper and stop kissing, to rest your head on his shoulder and fully immerse yourself in the sensation of Doyoung's erect cock rubbing you in just the right spot. “Mmm, yeah, Jisung!”

Doyoung recoils and glares at you. You smile playfully at him. “Sorry, I'm just teasing,” you say and hope Doyoung can take a joke.

He actually does laugh about it. But when he closes his eyes and thrusts his hips again, it's suddenly Jisung he's fucking in his mind.

You close your eyes too and begin to pant, shallow and gentle sighs right in Doyoung's face. “I think…”

“…Jisung…”

“…is very lucky.”

Doyoung starts to pant too, deep and loudly. You open your eyes and observe his face, and ride his cock even faster.

“What… makes you say… that?” Doyoung asks without stopping.

You pull your head back to see more of the man. You do little jumps in his lap while he pushes and pulls on your body. The gentle but increasingly passionate motions make your bodies work as one.

“You're so… fucking… hot.”

You give Doyoung a kiss on the lips to really cement the message, then look at his eyelids waiting for a reaction. When he opens them you add:

“I think… ohhh, fuck!… I think… he might… love you too.”

Your words are a total lie. But they make Doyoung glow. He smiles wide and looks so handsome and adorable in your arms. Then he suddenly gives you a push to the side, and lifts his body to roll you over.

You abruptly land on your back. You laugh at his sudden eagerness when Doyoung climbs on top of you, his dick still hard inside you. He attacks your lips with his, a wild and lustful make-out session. Then he closes his eyes again, to return to the fantasy that was playing in head.

His motions slow down but they never stop. He rocks his body back and forth between your legs, while you feel his sides and back with your hands. In his head, Jisung is the one he is holding, and his heart is beating fast.

Everything that needs to be said has been said, and for the rest of your most recent sexual encounter neither of you speak another word about Jisung or on the subject of love.

You have so many questions, but all that can wait. What you want now is a release. You know you'll confront Jisung about what Doyoung said, and push and encourage your friend in a certain direction. This might be your only chance with Doyoung on bed.

Once you finish, you can claim your achievement and leave Doyoung's room with satisfaction and a new goal: to make your best friend see how great a relationship with Doyoung would be.

Just the thought of them together – well, your best friend with any man, really – genuinely does bring you so much joy. Oh, how proud and happy you would be.

Yet you have no real reason to think that Jisung wants the same thing, and this whole situation may very well end up in disaster. Again, you're playing with fire and taking a big risk just by being here. Too bad your judgment is too clouded to realize that.

The panting returns and Jisung is pushed out of your mind. Doyoung pushes himself up on an elbow and his hips move wider and faster. You raise your knees around him while he plows into you with a sort of intense tenderness, and your bodies flex as the panting escalates to new heights.

Doyoung may be imagining another, but you're only here to help him with his sexual needs after all. Horny and alone, his lover away in another city, your presence is what Doyoung needs in this moment.

The intense sensation of his dick inside you really does rub you in the right spot though, and you suddenly feel a strong orgasm coming.

You're not even using your hands. Other than Doyoung's stomach gently brushing repeatedly against your shaft, it's really the dick in your ass that brings you over the edge.

“Ahh, ahh!” you suddenly exclaim. “Ahh, ahh, yeah, I'm gonna come.”

Doyoung starts to thrust his pelvis a little faster and harder. He bends a knee for a better angle to push and glide in.

You briefly check out his chest and the space between you. Doyoung's face is twisted and tense, and you throw your head back in a jolt of lust and passion.

“Ahh, ahh, yeah, yeah, fuck my ass Doyoung, fuck my ass, oh yeah, yeah, YEEEEAH!”

You buck your hips upwards while Doyoung thrusts hard, his dick going deep inside you. When you explode and shoot your load between your stomachs – hands free – he suddenly holds his breath and digs his fingers into your shoulder.

He exhales, deeply and loud. He opens his mouth wide and comes crashing down on you, pulling on your upper body while pushing with his knees. His orgasm has arrived too, and you can feel the dick jolt when it unloads his sperm inside you.

“Mm, mmm, ahhhh,” he whispers near your ear when he releases. Maybe he hasn't forgotten about Jaehyun, who might be lingering somewhere outside. He would never bring Jisung over for sex when Jaehyun is using the room and desk to study, and he didn't mean to disturb his friend with you either.

You hug the man in your arms, and gently stroke his back. You feel his smooth butt cheeks, and breathe heavily as you begin to recover from the strong orgasm. It's not often you manage to come the way you just did.

“Mm, mmm, hmmmmm, ahhhhh.”

Doyoung starts to feel heavy on your chest. You feel his warm breath on your skin while you chip for air under his shoulder. His face quickly becomes relaxed, his lips soften and his nose is pressed against your neck. When he lifts his head the nose slides into your eye, and you jerk before you turn and plant your mouth on his.

“Mmm, you're amazing,” you whisper, partly because you want him to feel good, but maybe also as a way to apologize for the way you interrupted his night the other day.

But mostly because the pleasure his dick has given you when it hit your g-spot so perfectly really has been incredible.

Johnny might actually just have been dethroned, that's how great the softer, sweeter but just as lustful Doyoung has felt. At least that's what you're thinking in this moment, as you keep embracing your best friend's lover and you both come down from the highs of your respective orgasms.

“So… are you…” Doyoung says softly. You can tell how hard he's struggling to speak.

You lay like this for several minutes, hugging while wrapped in each other's limbs.

Your minds begin to wander in different directions. You briefly think about Jungwoo, of whether he's out there listening after you left him hanging on the couch. But mostly your mind is on Jisung, and you can't stop thinking about how great it would be if he and Doyoung started dating.

Doyoung is thinking about him too. Very similar thoughts, actually. Maybe, one day, in a world where Yuta and Taeyong can make up and be together without judgment, the fantasy can become a reality.

You've always know Jisung to be straight, up until last year, and that's a shame. But lucky for Doyoung, the world he dreams of is significantly closer than either of you might think.

“So you love him huh?” you suddenly say and chuckle, breaking the silence between you.

Doyoung lifts his head and looks you in the eye. Your smile makes him feel better about having blurted out the truth to you, a stranger who also happens to be the best friend of his crush.

“Oh shut up!” he says. Then you both burst out in laughter.

The NCT 127 Dating Ban series will take a break now. I'll be back with the remaining stories once they're ready :)

[magicaldice]

Synopsis: Y/n goes to a party with her bestfriend without telling her toxic boyfriend. She unexpectedly meets Chris sturniolo & things start to unravel overtime.

⚠︎ : read at your own leisure.

any feedback, likes, comments or shares, are appreciated!

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 part 6

After Chris had stayed the night at my house I felt a feeling that was unfamiliar. I couldn't decipher what exactly what I was feeling but it was close to guilt.

Katie had seen Chris leave the house in the morning. She had gave me a "what the hell" kind of look but never said anything. I didn't want her to make it a big thing, and she didn't.

It's been 4 days since he stayed the night. 4 days of confusing mixed emotions. 4 days of my thoughts weighing heavy, suffocating my heart. 4 days thinking to the point of exhaustion.

Jackson had been over 3 days in a row, which is very unusual. He usually only would come over for sex and leave. Or whenever we did hangout, it was never 3 days in a row.

I shouldn't mind, afterall Jackson was my boyfriend. The thing was, Jackson and I being around each other so much the last 3 days has made things harder. I wasn't able to text or hangout with Chris at all. The main reason being Jackson didn't know I was friends with Chris in the first place.

He would kill me if he knew I was friends with a man, let alone have sleepovers with Chris. I wasn't trying to keep it a secret, but I also wasn't trying to tell Jackson either.

I told myself if Jackson was to be cool with me being friends with another man I would of told him by now. But honestly I don't even think that's the truth anymore.

I had so many thoughts swarming my mind any time I was alone. And 9 times out of 10 they were about Chris.

Chris made me feel something I never felt before. He somehow made it easier for me to be comfortable in my own skin. He had made me feel safe to be myself. And I couldnt stand it.

And what I mean by that is I hate that he has made those things possible for me because now, I wanted to spend every minute I had available with him. And I couldn't now that Jackson and I have hungout with each other 3 days in a row.

Jackson's currently in the shower. He brought me back to his place and said he was going to take a shower before we lay down. Jackson was acting weird these past 3 days. More clingy than usual.

But while he was in the shower I had checked my notifications.

from chris: I miss u. tell your boyfriend to go bother someone else so I can come pick u up

to chris: u know I cant do that. miss u 2.

from chris: yea yea I know. lmk when u can hang

I put my phone on dnd. Jackson walks into the room, towel wrapped around his waist. "Who you texting" he asks. "What? No one" I lied, a little too quickly. It was hard to be present with Jackson when the only thing my mind would let me think about was Chris.

"Come here. Wanna see you underneath me" Jackson said, letting the towel fall from his waist. My stomach turns. Should of knew this was coming.

Chris's POV:

I hated the way she made me feel. She made me feel things I hadn't felt in so long. I felt cared for and thinking about it always made my stomach turn.

But at the same time she had made me feel jealous. I know it was never intentional, but the jealousy still existed in my heart. I hated her boyfriend. I hated how he was the one who got to call her "mine".

This wasn't about infatuation, possessiveness or fucking attraction anymore. This was deeper than that now. And I hated the way it made me feel so indecisive. Every bone in my body told me to let her be, just let her go and move on with my life.

Every inch of my body wanted me to run away again, run from my feelings, run from her. But I wouldn't let myself. I couldn't.

It's been 4 days since I spent the night at her house. 4 days since getting to spend time with her. 4 days since having an actual conversation. 4 days since I held her as she fell asleep in my arms.

She's been with Jackson for the last 3 days and I hated every second of it. How she wasn't able to hangout with me, or even text.

I couldn't keep my mind off her even if I tried. I hated it. I didn't know what to do anymore. How much longer I could keep it a secret. How much longer I could pretend like I didn't have feelings for her.

A part of me wanted to tell her. A part of me thought she could possibly already know. I felt like every time we hungout I got worse at hiding how I actually felt.

The sleepovers. The eyes that lingered too long. The most obvious excuses just to have some sort of physical contact. The compliments. It was getting more intense and harder for me to hide it.

Y/n has a boyfriend. And I know she wouldn't cheat but deep down I hoped she would. And as bad as that sounds I didn't give a fuck. I wanted her, I needed her.

Y/n's POV:

I'm finally at my house after spending the last 3 days with Jackson. I felt like I could breathe again. I sit on my bed debating if I should text Chris or not. I wanted to but at the same time maybe I shouldn't.

To be completely truthful, I'm almost scared to hangout with Chris now. After the constant thinking of him, constant confusing feelings I've felt over the last couple days.

I feel like I've been so caught up with Chris recently that I have been so distant with Jackson. Despite being with Jackson for the last 3 days I wasn't able to actually focus on him.

I felt disconnected from Jackson and that put fear in my heart. Jackson has been my boyfriend for a year, losing him sounds awful.

And yeah Jackson isn't perfect but he's been there ya know. He's shown me love in his own way.

After spending some time thinking I decided to facetime Jackson.

The call had gone terrible. He didn't answer the first time I called but the second time I called he picked up the phone irritated to say the least.

He had been in the middle of an "important" video game match.

I had went to Katie's room to maybe talk to her about how I feel but she wasn't there. Which isn't a surprise, she's barely ever home anymore.

A couple hours pass

I texted Chris, even though I probably needed to distant myself from him. And he had answered right away.

He came and picked me up and as soon as I got around him, I felt like a living person again.

We got to his house and Madi and Matt were sitting in the living room. We had all hungout together for awhile before Madi and Matt went to their bedroom.

Chris had grabbed my hand and led me to his bedroom, like it was a routine we had subconsciously made. We sat on the bed talking for awhile.

"I don't know, Jackson being extra clingy for 3 days straight is just surprising. It felt weird" I said to Chris, who was rolling a blunt next to me. "Why did it feel weird?" Chris asked, his eyes focused on blunt. "I don't know. I guess he just never wants to hangout multiple days in a row" I responded.

"I hate your boyfriend" Chris blurts out, his eyes still focused on rolling the blunt. I don't respond.

He lit the blunt and I watched as he inhaled the smoke. We passed the blunt back and forth, letting the thc mellow us out.

"You look good" Chris says out of the blue, his eyes now glossed over. I smiled before hitting the blunt.

After we finish the blunt we both sprawled out on his bed, laying down and staring at the ceiling.

"I missed you" he said. "I missed you too" I respond. "You should just live here" he said as if that was something totally casual to say. "Chris" I look over at him. "I know I just hate when your not with me" he says, his eyes still staring at the ceiling above us.

My stomach twisted at his words. I let out a deep breath. It's gotta be the weed that's making him talk like this I tell myself.

"We should order food" I say trying to subtly change the subject. Chris sits up on the bed and looks at me. I sit up off the bed and face him.

Without saying anything Chris grabs onto my body, placing me on top of his lap. I'm taken back by his actions, now straddled on his lap. "Chris" I said quietly, staring into his eyes with perplexity. "Yeah?" he says.

I want to speak, I want to ask why he just placed me on his lap. I want to tell him that having me on his lap isn't a good idea. I wanted to tell him that Jackson would kill me if he saw me straddled on him. But all of my thoughts go silent when I feel his hand rub against my lower back.

The physical contact with Chris is too much. It's so overpowering, and my body heats up quickly. "Chris" I said once again, trying to form a coherent thought. "Yeah?' he repeats.

I don't respond, because I don't know how at the moment. "You okay?" he asks. I nod my head. Chris places both his hands on my hips. "You're so beautiful you know that?" he says. My breath is shaky and my heart is racing. keep it together y/n.

His eyes are locked on mine, glossed over and seeping with heavy emotions. "I don't think I should be on you like this" I said quietly. He doesn't respond, his hands just grip onto my hips gently.

Our faces are inches apart and the tension between us is close to overwhelming. "You can get off of me if you want" he said softly. I hated this so much. Because I should want to get off of him. And as much as I should, I don't get off. The feeling of desire taking over my body and thoughts.

Chris is staring at me, in a way that says he wants to touch me in ways he shouldn't. "You shouldn't be looking at me like that" I said quietly. I watch as he smiles innocently, masking the intense desire that lays beneath.

"You can get off of me if you want" he repeats. "I don't want to" I said quickly. He stares into my eyes, like he's searching for something. Analyzing my face as his hands start to run all over my lower body. "I want to make you feel good" he said, barely above a whisper.

My heart is thumping against my chest. "Were friends Chris" I said trying so hard to keep my composure. "Mhm" he hummed. "Let me make you feel good, as your friend yeah?" he purred. His hands stop moving and he stares into my eyes once again.

I knew this was wrong. I knew I was supposed to be a good person and get off of his Chris's lap. I knew I wasn't supposed to be looking at him the way I was. I knew I needed to tell Chris that this was wrong and that I couldn't be this intimate with him.

But no matter how hard I tried convincing myself to get off of his lap I couldn't get myself to. Instead I was in a trance by his touch. The way he had gripped onto my lower body had me melting and I couldn't talk myself out of it.

"Were friends" I repeated, breath shaky. "Friends can kiss sometimes right?" he coaxed before brushing my bottom lip with his thumb. And without thinking I leaned in, and that's when everything I had tried suppressing came back to life.

His lips pressed against mine, our mouths in sync with one another. The feeling of desire, the feeling of need had crashed upon me. The kisses weren't rushed, they were needy but slow.

Every confused feeling I had felt these past few days were no longer confusing .They were very clear in this very moment.

With my lips repeatedly pressing against his, my body had felt on fire. I felt alive, adrenaline pumping through my veins. His hand runs through my hair gently as he lowers his kisses down to my jaw. My heart beats faster than ever as he kisses the sweet spot on my neck.

I was so caught up in the moment that when my phone started ringing it had startled me.

My body freezes and Chris stops kissing my neck. I grab my phone and see Katie's name on the caller ID. I immediately get off Chris's lap and answer.

"Hello" I say into the phone, trying to steady my breath. "Hey where you at?" she asked. I look over at Chris who is refusing to make eye contact with me. "At a friend's house why?" I responded.

"Oh okay was just gonna ask if you were gonna be home tonight" she said. "Yeah. Yeah I'll be there".

After a few more words and exchanging goodbyes I had hung up the phone. I look over at Chris who is staring at the floor. "Im sorry" he said. "I need to leave" I said.

"No don't leave" he said grabbing my arm quickly. "I have a boyfriend Chris. And I love him. I need to go" I said. Chris lets go of my arm and I walk out to the living room, put my shoes on and head out the door.

I wait outside after calling Katie back to come pick me up.

What the fuck did I just do?

taglist:

@overlygoin @riggysworld @mattstromboli @nessaisabelartemas333 @sturniolobananas1 @xoxbunni

[dags-over-caravans]

WIP Wursday

Thanks for the tag @woundedsoul12 💕

Feeling the need to treat myself to something sweet, so let’s WIP Rookanis kisses 😘

Some background: Rook has read Spite the William Carlos Williams poem this is just to say, so Spite wants to taste plums and Lucanis finds a sweet way to indulge them all.

Basically: what if the “commit to a relationship scene” with Lucanis was more… fulfilling? (650 words)

flourless dark chocolate plum cake

She enters into the Lighthouse dining hall and finds Lucanis, his sleeves rolled up, an apron tied around his waist.

“What’s all this?”

“Ah, Rook, your timing is impeccable. I was just about to start tonight’s paella but there’s — well, I have something to give you. First.”

“For me?”

“Yes,” he husks. “Come here.”

There is a large, lovely chocolate cake; its tempered surface glistens in the Fade-light.

“You made this for me?”

“There’s enough for everyone. But, yes. I wanted to do something to thank you for… for everything, Rook. It isn’t much, or — it isn’t enough. I still don’t know how to apologize for… everything.”

He has a better explanation for the cake: “It’s flourless — dark chocolate and plums. I know that chocolate is your favorite and Spite has been bothering me since your little poetry night to taste plums. It was… difficult to find good ones. Bellara helped me to hunt these down.” (He remembers how Bellara’s eyebrows had arched, how she’d then squealed with delight as he’d blushed then, too.)

“Would you like to have some now?” He is already picking up a knife to slice the beautiful cake.

“And ruin my appetite? Very naughty of you, Lucanis.”

He smirks. “I think we have earned the right to a little indulgence. Here, we will share a piece to whet our appetites and Spite can taste plums.”

He lifts the small plate between them. He holds a fork out to her.

“You first,” he prompts.

She leans forward and closes her lips around the fork in his hand. Her eyes slide closed as the richness of the chocolate and plums envelopes her.

She smiles at him, rolling her eyes in exaggerated pleasure, as she chews. His eyes are pinned on her mouth for a moment.

He turns to set down the plate and when he turns back to her, his eyes glow with purple fire —

Spite reaches for her, wrapping their hands around her waist and pulling her in against them. One hand sinks low, the other up between her shoulder blades, the demon presses their lips to hers.

Spite hums, moving their mouth against hers. “Rook,” they breathe into her.

When she parts her lips for them, she can feel the way the demon rumbles, deep in their chest — the vibration of them resonates deep within her own chest.

“Mmmm.” They taste the plums on her lips, on her tongue.

A few blinks, and Lucanis’ warm brown eyes return.

He leans down for another kiss. He lingers. He cups her jaw in one hand, thumb ghosting over her cheek.

His eyes dart to the side and he frowns — a familiar crease between his eyebrows that he wears when he is listening to Spite. He chuffs a cursory laugh.

“Spite wants me to tell you that they wanted to ask your consent first. But I thought you might like the surprise.” The crow’s-feet the edge his eyes are crinkling, sweetly.

“I did,” she confirms. “Thank you.”

“And the cake? You liked it, too?”

“Delicious,” she hums, and arches to kiss him again.

(The way that Lucanis sighs into her is —)

“I hope that isn’t our dinner that you two are slobbering all over.” Davrin interrupts them. They break apart, all blushes and smirks and coy glances.

“I should start the paellas,” Lucanis admits, his regret plain.

The paella is delicious and as Rook enjoys another piece of chocolate plum cake for dessert, between sips of coffee and fluttering, furtive glances at Lucanis, she is reliving the press of his (their) lips to hers.

And with wonder, she realizes: a future is unfolding before her, one that not only includes Lucanis Dellamorte, but one in which Lucanis wants her.

[bougiebutchbinch]

Number three on your list is fucked up actually.

Nuance is the enemy of viral posts. Kindly, I suggest you read the comments. I explained in far more detail there.

I never expected the post to take off like it did, but I am pleased that people have voiced concerns about patient safety and comfort, as it's something I feel very passionate about. After reading my longer explanatory comments, if you'd like clarification about any of the other stories, you are welcome to ask.

However, you should also read my pinned post and be aware that I am a disabled person who spends a lot of time in hospital as a patient.

Just to be clear: Every story on that list was pared down A LOT to make it pithy and fun, but none involved malpractice or the sort of subtle cruelty that is endemic in the healthcare profession. I have seen (and personally been on the receiving end) of both. I've spoken up about them and reported the fuck out of them. I don't particularly want to discuss those cases online, because they were serious incidents that risked patient health/happiness, which would've been very personal and upsetting to the victims, myself included.

In related news: I will never vent about patients here or anywhere online. I don't agree with the nurses on TikTok etc. who go into far too much detail (which potentially compromises patient anonymity!) and describe negative experiences publicly in a way that completely ignores patient perspective and the inherent power dynamics of healthcare.

This is a high-stress job and you do need to vent sometimes - yes, even about patients - but you do that in private, closed settings with a trusted colleague. Then you push your pride aside and write up a reflection where you actually consider the patient's point of view and how your own actions contributed to the conflict. And then, you get back out there and give even the rudest, most aggressive patient on the planet the best healthcare you can, without compromising your own safety.

If I share a Funny Poast online, know that it's NEVER a case where medical staff acted inappropriately (beyond like. a med student sticking their own foot in their mouth lol) or patients were hurt either emotionally or physically.

[zadig-fate]

Not trying to wade too deep into the ongoing Jance debate (I've already reblogged people who've made the same argument I would)

But for those who interpret Nace's line in the film as him being tired/annoyed with the shipping stuff, I will point out:

That moment was filmed pre-Stožice while they were setting up the stage.

They made that "there's an ongoing conspiracy theory and it's all true" video while backstage before the show... so probably a few days AFTER the exchange we saw in the film.

If they really were tired of the shipping at that point, I doubt they would have thrown fuel on the fire with that video. So, at least at that time, I think it's fair to assume they were more amused than annoyed by it.

How they feel about it NOW... that's a different question. But at least during that moment in the film, I really think they were joking.

[sodaneko]

i don't know which writer needs to hear this, but delete that self-depricating paragraph in your author's note. it will alter your reader's view on your fic and you. seriously, even if you wholeheartedly believe it's the worst thing you've ever written and you don't feel proud of it at all, don't tell your audience. let them form their own opinion, and if you want to or not, it will make you feel better about your own work as well in the long run.

[padfootastic]

No but man child x fun sponge is a perfect way to describe that dynamic. It just really fucking gets to the core of the problem (women must parent the men, the men get to be carefree but the woman takes on all responsibility but man isn’t it annoying how lecturing these women get about doing work?) and like. God. I fucking hate this and how prevalent it is, both in fandom and official fucking media too.

ugh yesss this dynamic is exactly why i hated jily and lily for so so long. every single het ship seems to be pigeonholed into this for some reason? it’s like we’re incapable of writing it any other way and it!! bugs me!! so much!!!

like WHY is it that the women are always concerned about safety and responsibility and the kids and consequences but somehow the men aren’t??? why do the women automatically move into the kitchen or for cooking and the men are fucking around or going out to duel like,,,

i feel like it wouldn’t bother me so much if it was written like so with intention ykno? like, if it was a part of their character, for eg, like say, hermione trying to get her boys to finish their homework. makes sense, i can see where it’s coming from. but lily doing the same? ginny? luna? narcissa? alice fucking longbottom?? there has to be a point where u run out of fem characters who’ll fit that mold no?😭

and conversely, it makes no sense for the guys to be written the opposite way either like,,,if it’s wartime and james/sirius are more concerned about pranking someone idk and lily is shrieking in the background for them to take things seriously like just. where is this coming from.

[corvidcall]

i very rarely get a sense of satisfaction from completing tasks. ive heard people say this is an ADHD thing, but idk. personally i think i might just be bad at being alive

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[offthewall1979]

my review of Moonwalk: hot mess. ★★★.

[fiona-fififi]

...

[britneyshakespeare]

I can't believe the Younger Brother (1689) by Aphra Behn has the only one bed trope

[girlboy-frankensteins-monster]

books i read this january:

1. 'station eleven' by emily st. john mandel

5/5 stars — literally so good, such a great start to the year. i loved the writing style and the story and the characters and i am forever grateful to the friend of a friend who kept telling me i should read this because he was totally right and it's so good. definitely recommend this if you like apocalyptic stuff that's more an exploration of humanity than action/thriller

2. 'ghosts: the button house archives' by mathew baynton, simon farnaby, martha howe-douglas, jim howick, laurence rickard and ben willbond

3/5 stars — everything i wanted from a ghosts book tbh, loved getting to hear more about the characters but i would've liked a bit more serious stuff about fanny (this isn't really a criticism just wish there had been because she's such a compelling character to me)

3. 'i am malala' by malala yousafzai

4/5 stars — really good for anyone unfamiliar with pakistani culture and politics to help explain recent history as well as being genuinely very interesting. definitely recommend

4. 'heartstopper: volume 5' by alice oseman

3/5 stars — cute and nice to read as a queer british teenager, i like alice oseman's art a lot and i liked how she approached the topics discussed in it. only 3 stars just because like it doesn't really speak to me personally not because it isn't good or anything

5. 'never let me go' by kazuo ishiguro

4/5 stars — i have a weird relationship with his writing i feel like with both the books i've read by him the endings have just been a bit lacking for me? but not for a reason i can actually define and i still really liked the rest of the book and i really like his writing style as well

6. 'yellowface' by rebecca f. kuang

4/5 stars — not my favourite work by her but i found it really interesting to read. idk it's been quite controversial and i don't think i know enough about the issues discussed in the book to have an opinion but it did make me think about a lot of things i'd never really considered before which was why i found it interesting

7. 'gideon the ninth' by tamsyn muir

5/5 stars — this book was right up my street; i absolutely love gideon and the way the book's written. gideon and harrowhark's relationship was really compelling and i love the concept. if you read this book (please do) i would recommend that you read the glossary before you start the book because i spent at least the first 50 pages with no idea what was going on but after that it was amazing

8. 'the seven husbands of evelyn hugo' by taylor jenkins reid

3/5 stars — kind of just not my thing, sorry to all my friends who love it (none of them are on tumblr lol). i thought it was interesting but it just wasn't really my taste

9. 'tsunami girl' by julian sedgwick and chie kutsuwada

4/5 stars — i definitely didn't expect to enjoy this as much as i did but i actually really liked it the whole way through. the characters were great and i found the romance subplot way more well-written and believable than i expected (this might just be me because i'm a bit weird about reading relationships as romantic in books so a lot of straight romance where they sort of just expect you to pick up on it as romantic purely because it's a boy and a girl comes across as really flat to me and i end up just deciding that they're only friends to me whereas in this book i actually did read their relationship as romantic and wanted them to go out)

10. 'nation' by terry pratchett

5/5 stars — i think this is the first terry pratchett i've read other than good omens and i really, really enjoyed it. it took me a while to get into but i liked the characters and also found the sort-of-romance in this believable which was cool. also just really interesting to be honest, i recommend this as well