Sin City

sin city

pairing: gambler!sunghoon x afab baritsa!reader

requested: no

genre: smut, angst and some fluff (minors dni!!!)

warnings: brief mention of female masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), lowkey exhibitionism and humiliation, spitting, mild face fucking, wax play, protected sex, use of a gag, alcohol consumption, use of drugs (coke + LSD, be safe and don't do drugs), gambling (obv), brief mention of blood, readers boss is kinda yucky and her parents suck

word count: 12.8K

a/n: well... second times the charm 😻 hopefully my tags work this time and again apologies for posting this then deleting it because tumblr was being dumb. i suck at proofreading so if there’s any mistakes let me know. still v nervous to be sharing this w all of you but as always let me know your thoughts, i hope you enjoy (and again, ignore any repeat/messed up paragraphs bc tumblr still has yet to fix that glitch)

this is a work of fiction and is not meant to accurately depict or portray the idols mentioned. photos not mine, credits to original owners (retrieved from pinterest)

fail is such an aggressive word. to fail at something is embarrassing, humiliating, shameful! the self-loathing and unwanted pity from others is what makes failure simply unbearable.

which is why you didn’t tell your parents that you were failing university. you simply told them it was a personal choice; you were dropping out.

at first they were confused, and thought you were planning on transferring to school elsewhere, or just taking a gap year to focus on something else. travel, self discovery, mental health, time with family. so you fed into that lie, and told them that come september you’d be out of their hair embarking on an adventure to further your development. it was hard - being dishonest to your parents, keeping up the facade - but you had no intention of telling them that you failed out of school. they would never be the wiser.

that was until you made the mistake of leaving your laptop open on your desk with your entire academic record on display. your mom was vacuuming, and decided to take a peek at the screen.

to say they were upset was an understatement. 

it took a few days for them to hold an actual conversation with you, choosing to spare you the occasional glance and incoherent mumbling to show their disapproval at your poor academic performance.

one night at dinner you blew up.

“i don’t know why you’re making this such a big deal! yes, i failed university. so what?! does that make me a bad person??”

you didn’t expect them to say much, but when they didn’t say anything while staring at their half-eaten dinner plants your heart sank. sure, your family had always valued academic excellence, but you didn’t think it was this serious.

the void of silence is filled with the scraping sound of your chair sliding against the linoleum floor, announcing your departure from the table.

when you get to your room you slam the door, cry, then fall asleep on the floor.

you’re woken up a few hours later by the sounds of your parents getting ready to go to bed. there are hushed whispers outside of your door, and you hear your dad ask if he should check on you. seconds later, the hallway light turns off and you hear the door to your parent’s room close.

your hips and shoulders start to ache as you lay on your hardwood floor, but you find no motivation to pick yourself up. since you hadn’t closed your blind, your room had turned a shade of deep blue, courtesy of the moon. pushing yourself up into a seated position, your eyes scan the contents of your room, and you can’t help but reminisce.

the stuffed bear you refused to sleep without when you were 8, the wilted corsage you wore to prom, the laptop you wrote all of your university assignments on before dropping out - ouch, too soon.

a gust of wind passes through your open window and flutters the string of polaroids you have tacked up to your wall. one is of your old family cat. one is of you after you graduated high school. your favourite one is of soojin in front of a twilight sky, a half-empty cooler in her hand.

you had met soojin in 10th grade bio, when both of you were partnerless on frog dissection day and had to team up. the entire 75 minute period consisted of you doing all the work while soojin squealed in disgust.

after that you were practically attached at the hip.

the night before you moved to university you and soojin snuck onto the roof of your high school using your janitors janky old ladder. you sat on foldable lawn chairs and drank and laughed and cried while talking about your place in the world.

“sometimes i wish i was a cat,” you confessed, and soojin laughed.

“a cat? why?”

“life would be so simple. i’d sleep all day and get head scratches and food.”

“that’s fair.”

a siren wailed somewhere in the distance. the traffic lights in the intersection across from your school changed. a late summer breeze ruffled your hair.

“i’m gonna move to las vegas.”

you turned to look at soojin, and she looked back at you.

“when?”

“i don’t know… sometime in the near future,” she took a sip of her drink before she continued, “i’ve never been set on going to post-secondary so i might as well.”

you nodded, “why vegas though?”

“it’s a part of my fantasy.”

“what’s your fantasy?”

she shifts in her chair so she’s facing you, an enthusiastic glint now present in her eyes. 

“i’m gonna move to vegas, spend some time working at some fancy upscale casino or bar or club or whatever. then, i’ll make a hot rich person fall in love with me, we’ll get married on the strip, and then i’ll never have to work a day in my life again!”

“i mean it sounds great,” you took a sip of your drink, “but aren’t most rich people in vegas like, middle aged men?”

“you got anything against dilfs?”

“touche.”

you weren’t surprised when a year or so later soojin told you she was making her fantasy become a reality - she had always been much more of a go-getter than you. 

that didn’t make saying goodbye any easier though. 

at the time you were still living away from home, so you couldn’t even give her a proper send-off. of course she facetimed you as soon as her plane landed, but you would’ve given anything to see her in person before she leaves for who knows how long.

and now, as you lie on the cold hardwood floor of your childhood bedroom, your eyes puffy and itchy from all of the tears you’ve shed, you devise a plan that will allow you to be with your best friend again.

“i’m moving out.”

your parents hardly bat an eye at your announcement.

“where are you going to go?” your dad questions, his eyes leaving his sudoku to look at you momentarily. the way he phrases his sentence makes it sound like he thinks you need your parents, that you have no one else to rely on.

“las vegas. to live with soojin.”

“vegas? but that city’s so… raunchy,” your mother has never been a fan of big cities, specifically ones known for dancing and gambling and drinking and flamboyance.

“well, that’s where i’m going and when i get there i’m gonna find an apartment and get a job. i don’t know when i’ll be back, my plane leaves in a couple of hours.”

there’s silence, an exchanged glance between the two of them, and then your dad mumbles “whatever makes you happy.”

assuming that this conversation is now over, you make your way upstairs to continue packing before your big move.

as much as you wanted to surprise soojin and show up unannounced, you're also somewhat relying on her to help you find a job and a place to stay - and she came through. it just so happened that the lucky cat - a popular upscale casino that soojin’s been working at for the past few years  - is looking for a couple more floor staff to help with the hectic summer season.

in addition to that, there are tons of apartment vacancies since all of the university of nevada students have gone home for the summer - soojin said you can crash at her place until you sign a lease.

your extremely last minute plan to move thousands of miles away from home has somehow worked entirely in your favour. fingers crossed for no last minute curve balls!

you opt to leave the majority of your belongings behind; you don’t have much in terms of keepsakes anyway. one of your suitcases is filled with clothes, the other with personal items, and your backpack with all of your important possessions.

when the time on your clock reads 3:00 pm, you call for a taxi and make your way downstairs. 

you give your parents stiff unnatural hugs before your taxi pulls up outside and you load all of your luggage into the trunk. your mom looks like she wants to say something but refrains. the cab driver pulls away, and you watch your childhood home along with your parents turn into mere specks in the distance.

airport security is a breeze - you just have to avoid all of the sloppy unorganised tourists who have no idea what they’re doing. by the time you board your flight it’s dusk, and you stare at the various shades of blues, pink and purples staining the sky as your plane streaks down the runway and lifts off.

for the majority of the flight you sleep, knowing that when you land you’ll go right to soojin’s place and she’ll likely want to give a grand tour of the strip. besides, who doesn’t want to explore on their first night in a new city?

the jolt of the plane touching the ground is what wakes you some time later. the view outside your window is dark, and the vegas airport slowly comes into sight as the airplane continues down the runway. you wait until the seatbelt sign is turned off before grabbing your carry-on bag and exiting the aircraft. 

after claiming the rest of your luggage at the baggage carousel, you make your way outside and inhale your first breath of vegas air. it’s warm outside, and somewhat humid, but it makes you feel alive. 

hailing a cab, you toss your belongings in the trunk and recite soojin’s apartment address from where you wrote it down in your phone to the driver. he puts the cab into drive, and you watch the harry reid airport get further and further away as you’re escorted into the city that you now call home.

through the window of the taxi you stare in awe at the dozens upon dozens of clubs, casino’s, bars and hotels lining the roads. every building and sign is lit up by thousands of lights in all colours of the rainbow, enticing visitors to enter and blow ungodly amounts of money in one night. the streets are teeming with eager party people dressed in sequins and suits who’s night’s are just beginning.

so this is how miley felt in party in the usa. she’s so real for that.

the drive isn’t long, just over 10 minutes, and your heart flips in your chest when your taxi comes to a halt outside of soojin’s apartment complex. you grab your belongings form the trunk before paying your driver and 

while in the elevator you feel yourself getting more and more nervous with each passing second. will soojin act differently? will she look different? do you look different? sure the two of you facetime every other day, but nothing compares to seeing someone in person.

you're forced out of your thoughts when the elevator stops, letting you know that you’ve arrived at your designated floor. you lug your bags down the hallway and with a shaky hand you knock on soojin’s door. inside you hear erratic footsteps before the door in front of you swings open.

“AHHHHHH YOU BITCH YOU’RE HERE!!!!”

before you can say anything in response, all of the air is sucked out of your lungs as soojin captures you in a bone crushing hug, causing you to scream in excitement (and slight discomfort).

the two of you do a semi-awkward jump hug in soojin’s doorway and rejoice after not having seen each other in years. while lugging your suitcase into soojin’s living room you do your best to catch up with each other. she raves about her job and you bitch about your parents while you get settled.

“i hope you slept well on the plane, because our night is just about to start!” soojin shouts before disappearing into her bedroom, “now change into something slutty!”

once you’ve fixed your hair and makeup and change into an outfit deemed ‘vegas-worthy’ by soojin, she grabs you by the arm and drags you out of her apartment. “time for soojin’s unofficial tour of the strip!”

the sidewalks are even busier than they were when you were driven through here not too long ago, and you find yourself just narrowly escaping head-on collisions with other tourists and locals.

“ooh let’s go in here!” soojin’s nails dig into the pulse point on your wrist and you rush to keep up with her, flashing your i.d and paying an entry fee before being let into a two-story club with flashing purple and green strobe lights.

a drag queen in a bright orange wig is turning it out on the small wooden stage, but soojin drags you into the nearest bathroom before you can watch any more of her performance. 

once the two of you are in a stall and the door is locked behind you, soojin whips out a small compact mirror and a baggie of powder from her purse. you hand her your i.d which she uses to make several thin white lines, and then digs through her purse to find a pre-rolled $1 bill - which she passes to you.

you try to ignore the slight sting in your nostril as you do your first line off of the small pocket mirror, and you pass the bill over to soojin. the walls and floor of the bathroom stall start to waver as the coke kicks in almost instantaneously, and you laugh because it looks like soojin’s eyeballs are melting out of their sockets. you do a few more lines before exiting the stall with soojin following behind you.

the two of you make your way onto the dance floor that’s sticky with spilled drinks and lose yourself to music by lady gaga, beyonce, rihanna, and britney. it feels like your limbs have turned to jelly and you can’t stop laughing and dancing with your best friend. at some point your nose starts bleeding which you only realise once it’s dripped down your lips and you can taste the metallic tang in your mouth.

you hop from bar to bar and club to club, and soojin tells you stories about each one of them. “this is the club where i lost my shoes, and this is the bar where i fell off a stool, and this is the club where…” it doesn’t stop.

once your coke-induced high starts to wane you turn to alcohol, sucking back one too many lemon drops than one should. at this point of the night your feet have several blisters and your hair is stuck to the nape of your neck with sweat, but you’re too intoxicated to care. it’s been so long since you’ve had fun, since you’ve felt so… carefree. it’s euphoric, to say the least.

when you and soojin finally decide to call it a night you step outside and take a deep inhale. compared to the hot and stuffy interior of clubs, even the polluted vegas air is a relief. in the east you see a tinge of yellow in the sky as the sun begins to welcome a new day, and you stumble your way back home.

it’s july, and you’ve officially been living in vegas for a month. the past few weeks have been hectic but fun, and you’d forgotten how much you missed being around soojin. you spent the first couple of days recovering from your night out by lounging on her couch, before deciding to get your shit together and meet with her boss at the lucky cat casino.

the interview was strangely simple, and entailed your soon-to-be boss scanning your resume before asking if you knew how to make any mixed drinks, to which you responded: “uh… i can make a vodka cran?”

you were hired on the spot (red flag, but whatever) and the next day soojin showed you the ropes. luckily it’s a relatively easy position, with a ton of other floor staff around to help you if you’re ever in a pinch.

after securing a job you sign a lease for a small studio apartment in a complex a couple minutes away from soojin’s; the rent isn’t ideal but it’s not horrible and with the leftover money you saved for uni as well as your cash flow from the casino you make it work. 

throughout the entirety of the month you’ve spoken to your parent’s once. your mom called out of the blue, perhaps in an attempt to rekindle your mother-daughter relationship, but it didn’t go very well.

“so how’s california?”

“what?”

“cali? aren’t you in los angeles?”

“no mom, i’m in las vegas… you know, nevada.”

“oh… right.”

you hung up shortly after, and didn’t plan on calling back anytime soon. sure, maybe you were being dramatic, but so were they. 

today you’re scheduled for your regular evening shift, but your boss asked you to come in early for a one on one meeting about your work performance. when you get there he’s leaning against a wall waiting for you, curling his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion to get you to to follow him into his office.

“so,” your boss starts, straddling a flimsy plastic chair so as to make it seem like this is a conversation between two friends and not a manager and his employee.

“you’ve officially been working here for a month, so we’re through your probation period,” he sighs deeply before continuing, “and your performance… has not been great.”

fuck fuck fuck!! this is it. you’re fired, done for! what are you going to do now? you can’t go home, will you be able to even find another job in vegas??

“y/n, i’m not firing you.”

oh. that’s good.

“you just need to be more appealing to customers to bring in more revenue.”

appealing? is he calling you unattractive? you furrow your brows in scepticism “okay… how should i do that?”

your boss takes a second, eyes you suspiciously, then asks: “do you want me to be blunt?”

you nod, so he continues.

“stop dressing like a prude. show some skin.”

“excuse me?”

“i hate to break it to you, but that’s what sells these days,” he grunts while getting up from his chair, a clear sign that this conversation is over.

“but-” 

“don’t take it personally y/n. just loosen up a bit, okay?”

and with that he leaves, the large steel door swinging shut behind him. with every second you spend sitting alone in the messy, humid office of your manager your self-confidence gets smaller and smaller, like a balloon, until it’s all shrivelled up; seemingly non-existent. you go through the entirety of your shift with your head hung low. 

it’s past midnight when you get back to your apartment that smells like paint and old chinese takeout. the advice - command? - that your boss gave to you bounces around in your brain like a ping pong ball.

you finger yourself in the shower before going to bed.

it’s an egg kind of morning.

some mornings are pancake or french toast or waffle mornings; when you’re feeling more lavish and want to indulge yourself. busy days are reserved for cereal or yogurt and granola, when you just need to fuel yourself and get out of the door.

egg days are in between days. you have enough time this morning to make a semi-decent breakfast, so you do. poached eggs - the kind where you put them on a piece of toast with some shredded cheese and then pop the yolks with the tip of your butterknife before watching the golden liquid pool on your plate.

you get half-way through the dish before you feel like puking, remembering why egg days aren’t common.

chucking the rest of your breakfast in the compost, you get ready for the day. the dry-erase calendar you have tacked onto the wall by your front door reminds you that you don’t have work until later this evening; so it’s settled.

today will be a day of reinvention. 

there’s much to be done, so you pull on your fanciest casual outfit and head out. 

the vegas strip is somewhat busy today - but then again when is it not. nighttime is when the city comes alive. clubs and casinos and theatre’s showcasing snuff films all open their doors for the mature population, providing them with enough alcohol to make their brains go fuzzy until they wake up having no clue what happened. 

daytime is when the streets are packed with tourists and their obnoxious children darting between the mandalay bay aquarium, the discovery museum and the hershey’s store. which is why you try not to leave your apartment before the families on vacation retire to their hotels for the night. but today, you make an exception.

the sun beats down on your aching shoulders the second you step out of your apartment, and you mentally slap yourself when you remember that you forgot to put on sunscreen. 

when you arrive at your first destination, an upscale salon that soojin recommended to you on your first night out, you bask in the AC before they call your name.

you splurge and get your eyebrows, legs and bikini line waxed. when your aesthetician is finished, you’re whisked away into a cushioned white chair in front of a white desk in a room with white walls and white floors. you get dark red acrylics, long enough to be sexy but not so long that they impact your ability to work. if your mom saw you right now she’d say you look like a hooker. once you’re finished at the salon, you head out to spend more money.

multiple shopping bags filled with skimpy thongs, lacy bras and sheer black pantyhose hang off of your arms as you make your way around the strip mall closest to your apartment. you vow to toss your old electric toothbrush before buying an actual vibrator, one that can give you much better orgasms. with each purchase your worry of your card being maxed out increases, so you decide to call it quits.

once your spa day has come to an end you head back to your shoebox apartment, picking up some tofu pad thai on the way. you binge watch peaky blinders while waiting until you need to leave for your shift, self-doubt coursing through your veins.

“you look different.”

spinning on your heel in the employees only room at work, you come face to face with soojin.

“good different or bad different?”

“good, definitely good. you look hot.”

“thanks,” your face heats up, “boss told me to loosen up to make more cash, so i’m glad it didn’t go unnoticed.”

she rolls her eyes, “it’s the unfortunate truth. here, this is my secret weapon.”

her hand slips into her mint green baguette purse, fishes around for a couple seconds, before pulling something out and placing it in your palm. it’s cold; metal.

“works like a charm~” she sing-songs before making her way back to the staff-only room to get ready for her shift.

in your palm you can feel something long and rectangular but with rounded edges; a tube of lipstick. chanel rouge allure #117 - or cuivre. red. sparkly. sexy.

in the employee’s only bathroom you stare at your reflection in the mirror before popping the top off of the tube of lipstick. it glides onto your lips  with ease, and you stare at your reflection in the dimly lit bathroom. you look pretty. after ensuring that no lipstick made its way onto your teeth, you head out and start your shift.

the casino is decently busy tonight, so the first time you have a chance to talk to soojin again is when you both end up behind the bar at the same time.

“how are the tips tonight? i bet they’re just rolling in now that you look like a skank.”

you laugh while measuring out some white rum to add to a customer’s mojito, “i’m not complaining!”

soojin finishes straining her cosmopolitan before leaning into you, “do you want me to let you in on another one of my secrets?”

you nod. who doesn’t want tips on how to make more money?

“younger people always tip better. once someone’s above 40 it’s like a flip switches in their brain and they have some kind of entitlement that makes them less likely to tip. so, if a group of 20 or 30-something’s come in, snag ‘em.”

“i mean that makes sense,” you continue mixing drinks while you talk, “but practically every customer in here is a middle aged white man.”

“not everyone,” soojin says while pointing at a table to your left, where a frequent customer with a beer gut and a bald spot is sitting playing poker.

“... mr. creole? but he’s like 70..”

“what? no, not him!” soojin places a perfectly manicured finger on your jaw and slightly turns your head further to the left, your gaze landing on a baccarat table at the back of the room, “them.”

there, a group of 4 men in slacks and white dress shirts rolled up at the sleeves are huddled together while the dealer places chips and cards on the table. the one gambling is seated across from the dealer while the other 3 are huddled around him, clearing hyping him up to win big.

“you see the tallest one?” soojin practically whispers into your ear, “that’s heeseung. he doesn’t gamble too much, mostly he’s there for moral support.”

soojin’s right, he is tall. i mean they all are, but his body is like 70% leg. you watch as heeseung laughs at whatever one of his friends says before checking his watch, clearly not wanting to stay much longer. 

“the one on his left is jake, and the one beside him is jay. they gamble sometimes, usually black jack or the slot machines, but i think they mostly come for the drinks - and the girls.” 

jake and jay definitely seem the most excited to be there; they’re both leaning over their gambling friend’s shoulder whispering excitedly, undoubtedly telling him to go all in or whatever the proper term is - you still don’t know much about gambling.

“the guy in the middle is sunghoon,” your eyes fall upon the man in the centre of the group, “he’s like the best of the best.”

you watch as his ring clad fingers dart across the felted surface of the table, flipping cards and picking up chips as if it’s second nature to him. upon closer inspection you notice his features are quite leporine; sharp brows, poignant nose, nice white teeth that are revealed when he laughs at something his friend says.

“he plays anything and everything here,” soojin starts while staring at sunghoon like you are, “roulette, blackjack, three-card poker, but he’s the best at baccarat - specifically baccarat chemin de fer.”

your brain short circuits, “listen, i know jack shit about gambling, so none of that really means anything to me.”

soojin laughs at your bluntness, “basically he’s super rich and super lucky… and hot, but you don’t need to know anything about gambling to see that.”

sounds like your kind of man.

“how do you know so much about them?” 

“i’m their usual server,” soojin starts, and then a mischievous look appears in her eyes, “do you wanna help me?”

“what, like right now?”

“i mean, yea.” 

you stare at her blankly, “i don’t know i mean i’m still pretty new here and i don’t know what i’m doing and-”

“oh come on y/n you are a chronic overthinker, let’s go!” and with that she’s dragging you across the casino to where the 4 men are seated.  soojin begins conversing with the table and you stand behind her awkwardly, palms sweaty and knees about to buckle. it’s not everyday that you’re surrounded by a group of 4 tall, rich, attractive guys. while soojin interacts with her usual customers, you cower behind her like a scared child, waiting for her to loop you into the conversation.

“and this,” she grabs you by your elbow and pulls you forward, “is y/n, my best friend and coworker.” you wave awkwardly, and they all wave back.

it’s times like this when you’re reminded that soojin’s a natural at her job, whereas you on the other hand are not. she immediately begins to converse with her regulars, leaving you standing off to the side before you make awkward eye contact with sunghoon. you realise that now would be a good time to actually do your job.

“uh, is there anything i can get you to drink?”

“sure!” he smiles at you, and he really does have a nice smile, “can i get a m-” 

you know those cheesy movie scenes where the protagonist finally meets the love of their life and suddenly everything around them is tinted pink and moving in slo-mo? this feels exactly like that. you try to listen to what sunghoon is saying but all you can focus on is his icy blond hair, his perfect skin, his deep brown eyes (that you notice darting to your lips on more than one occasion - thank you soojin!)

you force yourself to tune back in to real time when you realise he’s stopped talking, and then mentally slap yourself because you just missed his entire order spare for the first letter being ‘m’.

too stubborn to say something, you just nod with a smile and head back towards the bar while racking your brain for every single cocktail starting with the letter m. a milk & honey seems too niche, a moscow mule too intense, and a mai tai too fruity. so you settle on a well-known ‘m’ cocktail: margarita. a classic! who doesn’t love margarita’s? (hopefully not sunghoon).

you get to business salting the rim of your glass and mixing the tequila and lime juice while making sure that this is the prettiest fucking margarita you’ve ever made. when you’re finished, you take a deep breath and head back over to the baccarat table where soojin is still talking to jay, jake and heeseung.

beside them, sunghoon is waiting patiently for his drink, and you place it in front of him on the velvet tabletop.

“oh, uh…” he stares at the drink you hand him with confusion. fuck, his ‘m’ cocktail wasn’t a margarita. 

panic begins to kick in, and you contemplate pulling the ‘i’m new here’ card, “sorry, is that not what you ordered?”

“no, it was a martini… you know, like james bond?”

of course it was a fucking martini you dipshit! literally the drink of choice for all men who like to fantasise that they’re a world famous spy.

sunghoon probably notices you panicking, “but it’s ok! i like margaritas too.”

“no, let me get you what you actually ordered!” 

“no really it’s fine-” sunghoon starts, but you’ve already began to weave through the other tables. when your out of view of any customers you actually slap yourself. you just embarrassed yourself in front of the hottest guy in the whole casino! great, your life is over. 

you try to ignoring the heat rushing to your face while straining sunghoon’s martini and then head back to that baccarat table for the third time in the past 5 minutes, apologising profusely while handing the man in question his actual order. he smiles before handing you a $20, which you slip into your work apron.

“should i give this back to you then?” he holds up the margarita you made, beads of condensation already rolling down the side of the glass.

“keep it, it’s on the house.” you smile, and leave the table for good.

“that’s it, i have to quit now.” you whine to soojin once you’re both behind the bar again.

“what happened? i thought it went well.” soojin questions while shaking a long island iced tea.

“i messed up his fucking order dude. i embarrassed myself!” you hide your head in your hands and huff in frustration.

“come on y/n that’s not the end of the world! and sunghoon’s a nice guy, i’m sure he understands that you were just so enthralled with his beauty you couldn’t focus on what he was saying.”

you sock her in the shoulder, and then cringe because that’s exactly what happened. and when your shift ends at the early hours of the morning, sunghoon is all you’re thinking about.

apparently you’d been on sunghoon’s mind too, because the second you get to work the next day soojin is excitedly dragging you back into the employees only room. there, a gorgeous bouquet made of peruvian lilies, delphinium, and baby’s breath is sitting on the table, a thick, off-white card tied to the stems. it reads:

y/n,

will you let me see you again? 

3600 S Las Vegas Blvd, 11:00 pm. 

i’ll have someone pick you up.

p.sh

“signed p.sh? who’s that?”

“that’s sunghoon you numbskull! he’s asking you out on a date!”

you bend down to smell the bouquet made for you, “it’s not a date soojin, he just wants to see me.”

“yea, and he clearly has romantic intentions, hence the flowers!” she dramatically motions to the bouquet, “in my books that qualifies as a date, but to each their own.”

throughout your shift your nerves are piqued; you try to chalk it up to the humidity or the fact that you accidentally spilled a rum and coke on a well-paying customer, but in the back of your brain you know it's because of sunghoon.

when the time comes for your shift to be over you rush to the bathroom to attempt to spruce yourself up after having worked for almost 8 hours. you finger-comb your hair and swipe on some deodorant before applying a fresh coat of the lipstick soojin gave you - since sunghoon kept staring at your lips last night surely he’d appreciate you wearing it again.

stepping out of the lucky cat, you try not to audibly gasp as the stunning white rolls royce ghost that’s waiting for you at the curb, hazards blinking. so sunghoon’s rich rich, got it. suddenly your attire feels extremely lacklustre. 

“y/n?” a bearded man with big hands calls out to you from the driver's seat.

“that’s me.” you slide into one of the smooth leather seats, close the door behind you, and hope that you’re not being driven to your doom.

“you’re late,” he jokes, “4 minutes to be exact.” 

sunghoon’s standing on the sidewalk right where his driver drops you off. he’s dressed similarly to how he was when you saw him last night, slacks and a button up even though it’s the middle of the summer.

“don’t blame me, blame your driver.”

he smirks and raises an eyebrow as if to say touche, and he sticks his elbow out for you to loop your arm through - so you do. the two of you walk in tandem and you scan your surroundings to try to figure out where sunghoon’s brought you. a vast pool of water catches your eye not too far away from you and something clicks in your brain - the bellagio, of course! only now the water’s at a standstill since the magnificent fountain only goes off every fifteen minutes.

“do you bring all of the girls you meet here?”

“what, to the bellagio? no way, only the real special ones.”

“what makes me so special then?”

“i don’t know, you seem… charismatic? and you’re funny, i like that.”

“funny because i messed up your drink order?”

“i mean, kinda! it just makes you seem more… human.” he shrugs while shoving his hands in his pockets. “don’t tell soojin i said that though.”

you laugh, and then bring a finger up to your lips in a shushing motion.

“so,” sunghoon stops walking so the two of you are standing on the sidewalk with a perfect view of the bellagio, “how long have you been in vegas?”

you do quick math in your head, “just over a month. i moved here after i… flunked university.”

“oh, that’s rough” he grimaces before smiling coyly, “your turn.”

“my turn? for what?”

“ask me a question.”

“okay, uhhh,” is asking where he gets all of his money from rude? possibly, so you ask him: “how do you gamble?”

sunghoon looks at you with confusion, before chuckling softly. that was definitely a dumb question. “what do you mean?”

“like the card games and stuff! i don’t get it.”

“but you work at a casino.”

“i make drinks at a casino, i don’t have anything to do with the games.”

he raises his hands in defence. “well, all of the card games are different, but my favourite is probably baccarat - black jack is fun too, though. anyways, the main goal of baccarat is to get as close to nine as possible. you start by betting chips on either the player or the banker, and then the dealer draws two cards for both of them. the cards are flipped over and whoever’s closer to nine wins, but you don’t want to go over a score of nine. you can also bet on a tie, a banker pair, and a player pair… are you following me?”

“nuh uh.”

he gives up trying to explain, “basically you throw some cards and chips on a table and win money.”

the two of you sit in silence for a moment, with sunghoon staring at the water in front of him - likely thinking of a question to ask you since he’s the one who started this little game.

“do you have any wishes?”

confusion evident on your face, your turn to look at him.

“because if you do, this would be the place to make one.” he gestures to the bellagio, 

it’s then that he reaches into his pocket and pulls out 2 silver coins - nickels. he keeps one for himself, then places the other in the palm of your hand. 

you watch as he turns to face the fountain, his side profile lit up by the warm glow from the white lights in the water. his eyes close and his brows furrow for just a moment, and then he tosses his coin into the fountain.

“what did you wish for?”

“if i tell you it won’t come true.” he stares at you, his eyes catching the glow from the lights of the nearby hotel. “your turn,” he repeats for the second time tonight.

you follow in his footsteps, closing your eyes while making a wish and tossing your coin into the fountain. when you open your eyes, you swear sunghoon’s closer to you than he was before.

before you can come up with a witty response, a dramatic whoosh! sounds and you look beside you to see that the water show has begun. an amazing display of lights and aquatics plays out before your eyes as the fountains erupt in synchronisation, creating a dazzling and unforgettable display.

“pretty.”

you’re about to agree, only until you realise that sunghoon’s focus is on you, not the fountain. his eyes are glossy and he smells of bergamot and sage, and you finally get to live in that rom-com moment when he leans in and presses his lips against yours. 

his lips are plump but slightly chapped, and you struggle to keep your balance with the way he’s leaning into you. after several moments he pulls away and you almost chase after his lips, that is until you hear the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from other spectators, reminding you that you are in fact in public and the people surrounding you probably don’t want to see you and sunghoon devouring each other. 

a sour expression makes its way onto sunghoons face, and he grabs your hand before nodding in the direction that you came from - a clear indication that he wants to get out of here.

the two of you find his car in idle on a semi-busy side street and you both slip into the back; initially you had planned on leaving the middle seat empty to separate the two of you, but sunghoon wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you beside him. you tell sunghoon’s chauffeur your address, and he nods before rolling up the partition to give the two of you some privacy and taking off down the busy road of the strip.

“you know you made my wish come true back there.”

“what, when i asked you to teach me the art of gambling?”

he bites his lower lip to abstain from laughing before teasingly pushing your shoulder, “you know what i mean.”

“was it when i did this?” in a bold move (for you), you grasp his jaw with your acrylic nails and kiss him with much more lust and passion than you did in front of the bellagio. his hand instantaneously moves up to cup the side of your face, and you manage to pull a quiet moan from him at the suddenness of your actions. 

his teeth nip at your bottom lip gently and your mouths move in tandem with each other, both of you acting as if the other is your only source of oxygen that you can’t pull away from. you slip your tongue past his teeth and lips and into his mouth, where you can slightly taste the spearmint gum he spit out before the two of you got back into his car. a desperate whine escapes your throat when he pulls away from you.

“open your mouth,” you comply, “good girl.”

in one swift motion he spits into your open mouth, and you feel his saliva glide down your tongue to the back of your throat. you close your mouth and swallow. sunghoon keeps his grip on your jaw, allowing his thumb to caress your cheek before swiping it across your bottom lip in a silent plea to let him in. you take his thumb in your mouth, his eyes trained on the way your puffy lips are wrapped around his digit. a string of saliva connects his thumb to your lips when he pulls his hand away, and in the dim lighting you catch a glimpse of your sparkly red lipstick smeared across his knuckle. 

when you stop at a red light his hand wraps around the back of your neck and he kisses you again; in your head you thank whatever higher power there is above that the car’s windows are tinted, so no curious outsider could peek in and see what the two of you are up to.

deciding to test the waters, you sneak your hand down his torso to the waistline of sunghoon’s pants, hesitating slightly before reaching out to palm his crotch through his clothes. the action causes his hips to jerk slightly, and he places his own clammy hand on top of yours to guide you as you massage his cock through his slacks. 

a metallic clink! reverberates off of the inside of the car as you unbuckle your seatbelt and somewhat sprawl your upper body across sunghoon’s lap; your hands gripping this thighs to stabilise yourself with your face only mere centimetres away from his clothed erection. noticing that you’re in a bit of an awkward position, sunghoon takes the initiative to unbutton his pants, inch them down just a little, and pull his cock out.

lengthwise he’s definitely above average, and his tip is flushed red and leaking beads of precum already. he sticks his palm out and you spit in it, watching like a hawk as he uses your saliva as lube to pump himself a few times before sitting back and letting you steal the show.

you playfully lick his tip, as if to taunt him that you could do more, but you don’t really feel like it. his thighs twitch underneath your hands, so you finally relent and wrap your lips around sunghoon’s cock, feeling him squirm in pleasure above you. 

with one hand he’s gripping the door handle, his hold so tight that his knuckles have turned a ghastly shade of white. with the other he’s gripping the back of your neck, clearly trying to refrain from shoving your head to the base of his dick - so you do it yourself, and take his entire length into your mouth.

the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t help but gag, and sunghoon hisses when you dig your nails into his pant clad thigh.

“keep it down,” he groans, “unless you want my chauffeur to hear you gagging on my cock.” 

an involuntary whine escapes you, and your hips shift in your seat. you can hear the smugness in his voice when he says: “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you continue to deepthroat him in the back of his car, trying not to gag or cough too loudly when the vehicle goes over a pothole or a bump in the road and his cock is shoved deeper than you’re expecting. each and every time his tip bumps the back of your throat you swallow around him, trying to suck back the mix of spit and precum that threatens to spill past your lips.

“fuck y/n,” a dull thud sounds as sunghoon lolls his head against the headrest behind him, “feels so fucking good.” the hand on the back of your neck starts to help guide your ministrations, and his hips start to buck up ever so lightly into your mouth.

you can tell sunghoon’s close to finishing by the way his moans get louder and more desperate, and you’re tempted to pull your mouth off of his cock and call him out for being a hypocrite for telling you to be quiet not too long ago. nevertheless, you persevere and continue to suck him off, allowing him to roll his hips up into your face.

at this point your hips and legs are cramping up and your jaw is aching from having been open for so long, so you let sunghoon take complete control and allow him to fuck your mouth until he cums, which is only a few moments later.

he finishes with a guttural groan before spilling his seed down your bruised throat; you try not to grimace at the taste before swallowing obediently. pulling yourself off of his cock, you use your thumb to wipe the spit and semen off of the corners of your mouth, and you sit back and watch sunghoon tuck himself back into his pants while trying to catch his breath.

the car shakes slightly as sunghoon’s driver accidentally bumps into the curb, and when you look outside the tinted car window you find that you’ve arrived at your apartment building. perfect timing.

being the gentleman that he is, sunghoon offers to walk you to your door - and who are you to say no. although you find a feeling of self-consciousness creeping up on you, what with your apartment being so drab in comparison to just about every aspect of sunghoon’s life. you try to push those negative thoughts away as you step out of the elevator and unlock your apartment door.

“i like it!” sunghoon preaches as he stands in your entryway, looking around as you toss your keys onto the kitchen counter. you give him a sarcastic side-eye. “i’m serious! it’s… cozy.”

you make your way over to where he’s standing, and he smirks as you press your chest against his, one of his arms snakes around your waist. your tummy flutters as he presses one, two, three chaste kisses to your pouted lips.

“goodnight, sunghoon.”

you move to close the door, but he suddenly objects and sticks his arm out to block your actions.

“wait! y/n i’d uh… i’d really like to see you again. maybe tomorrow night, i-if that’s ok with you of course?”

it’s in this moment that you can finally see this rich playboy facade start to crack. it prides you to see that the man whose dick you just sucked in the back of a car minutes ago has been reduced to a flustered stuttering mess because of you. cute. 

“i think i can make that work.”

“ok! that’s great, i’ll send someone to come pick you up maybe around, uhh 8:00 pm? is that ok?”

you nod, “it’s a date.”

his eyes widen at this, and before he has time to respond you close your front door.

ding dong!

what the fuck? who on earth is at your door this early in the morning? ugh, it’s probably the delivery guy. if you ignore him then he’ll just drop off your package and fuck off. 

ding dong ding dong ding dong!!!!

you sigh in frustration and pull yourself out of bed seeing as whoever’s at your door doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. opening your door just a crack, you see soojin standing there with a plastic bag in her hand.

“i brought waffles!” she announces before inviting herself into your apartment and sitting at the island in your kitchen. she opens up the plastic bag she brought and pulls out two take out containers of waffles, two drinks, and lots of syrup and butter. “come, sit. eat.”

grabbing cutlery from the drawer in your kitchen, you nonchalantly rub the sleep out of your eyes while making your way over to her, “why are you here so early?”

“dude, it’s noon,” she shoots you a judgemental glare, “and i’m here because i want to know all about your little date last night!” 

“i would hardly call it a date,” your mouth is stuffed with waffle so your words come out choked. you know that if you tell soojin what actually happened with sunghoon last night, she's going to make it a way bigger deal than it is. 

“you’re lying to me.”

“what? no i’m not.”

“yes you are y/n. i’ve known you for years and can instantly recognize the way you scrunch your nose and refuse to make eye contact when you’re lying to me.”

shit. she’s got you there.

“ok fine! he took me to the bellagio, we kissed and then,” you huff and roll your eyes, “isuckedhisdickinthebackofhiscar…”

“YOU WHAT??!! oh my god y/n this is crazy!! i can’t believe you’re getting it on with a hot rich guy!”

“we are not getting it on, he just likes me,” you stare at your waffles, “and he invited me to his place for dinner tonight.”

soojin chokes on her drink, “what the fuck!!?? why didn’t you tell me! we need to go pick out what you’re going to wear.” and with that she practically jumps up from where he’s sitting and heads into your bedroom. when you hear drawers being flung open and hangers clattering to the floor you decide to do damage control and head into your bedroom before soojin destroys it. 

some time later, the two of you settle on a basic black satin slip dress and knee high go-go boots.

“come on, let's do your makeup.” soojin excitedly starts to scan your vanity.

“dude it’s literally one in the afternoon, he’s not picking me up until eight.”

she looks defeated at first, but then turns to you with a smile, “cillian murphy movie marathon while we pass the time?”, and who are you to say no to that.

it’s around 6:30 pm when red lights finishes, and you decide you should start getting ready. in the shower you do the works - shaving, exfoliating, washing, scrubbing - and when you step out it feels like you have a whole new layer of squeaky clean skin. soojin pampers you and does your hair and makeup, opting for a subtle yet sexy look.

at 2 minutes to 8:00 pm, you slip on your boots and ask soojin to give you a once-over to make sure everything looks good (it does).

“i’ll be here mooching off of your crave subscription and raiding your fridge. now shoo!” your friend practically kicks you out of your own apartment. when you're halfway down the hallway to the elevator you hear soojin shout: “and if you don’t spend the night there getting railed i’m going to be very disappointed in you!”

the familiar rolls royce ghost is waiting for once again when you exit your apartment. sunghoon’s chauffeur, who you find out is named anthony, asks you what music you’d like to listen to on the drive. you ask for lay all your love on me by ABBA, and slouch in your seat as anthony takes off down the street that’s beginning to light up for the evening crowd.

upon your arrival at sunghoon’s place you see him waiting on the street for you. he’s dressed in a suit and tie, and although he looks phenomenal you’re practically dying to see him in some casual clothes.

“don’t give me shit about being late this time, park.” you taunt as you step out of his car, and anthony drives off. 

“i wasn’t going to! in fact, i told anthony to take his sweet time since he’d be carrying precious cargo.” he pecks your cheek, and you feel heat rush to your ears and the apples of your cheeks.

you step into an elevator that’s the size of your living room, with glass floors, gold buttons and a chandelier. sunghoon reaches a slender finger out and presses the button for the top floor, because of course he lives in a fucking penthouse.

when the golden doors slide open, you're met with a narrow entryway which sunghoon leads you down before opening his front door. “welcome to the park penthouse!” 

glamorous is an understatement when it comes to sunghoon’s living quarters. the ceilings are high and the floors are made of marble that’s so bright it kind of hurts your eyes to look at it directly. you’re not given much time to take it all in before sunghoon’s ushering you into what you can only assume is the living room. three leather couches make a semi-circle around a glass coffee table, all facing a large cobblestone fireplace and massive flatscreen tv. bookshelves stretch to the ceiling on either side of the fireplace, and in the far corner of the room you see a small silver safe, about the size of a microwave, embedded into the wall.

“i didn’t think rich people actually had safe’s in their walls,” you walk over to it, “i thought it was just a thing in movies.” sunghoon laughs at your statement before grasping the metal handle of the safe. he makes no effort to hide the pinpad, so you watch him type in the code and open the hefty metal door. the inside is quite literally something out of a spy movie; it’s filled bricks of cash stacked on top of eachother bound with elastic.

“woah,” you somewhat whisper, “how much is in there?”

sunghoon ponders your question, “couple hundred thousand. it’s my emergency stash. you know, in case i get into a really bad car accident, or - god forbid - lose a real big bet while gambling.”

just looking at the amount of cash is insane to you, and your brain hurts as you think of what you could spend all of that money on. luckily, sunghoon shuts the door, and you hear the lock click. “come on, i have more to show you.”

a long oak table is placed in the centre of the room, decorated with vases filled with flowers and gold candlesticks that hold tall dark red candles. only two spots at the table are set, each having a large silver platter at the centre with a fork and knife one either side. a crystal wine glass is also set to the right-hand side of both seats, filled half-way with dark red cabernet sauvignon.

“i didn’t know you could cook.” you turn to look at sunghoon, whose eyes widen. “oh, i didn’t make anything. i had jay come over to do it all - he’s a really good cook, you know.”

“i guess i’m about to find out.” you pull out one of the chairs at the dining table and sit down, a look of shame briefly flashing across sunghoon’s face as he realises that was his job. nevertheless, he shakes off his nerves and takes the seat across from you. the two of you simultaneously take the silver lid off 

“i was gonna do something fancier like steak,” he scratches the back of his neck, “but i didn’t know if you were a vegetarian… or something.” 

you assure him that it’s fine and that pasta is always your go-to, which seems to ease his nerves. it turns out that sunghoon was right and jay actually is a phenomenal chef; too bad he isn’t here for you to praise him in person. while you shovel pasta into your mouth sunghoon sips his wine and continues to act jittery. you decide it would be best to start up some playful banter since he seemed so comfortable doing that last night.

“i’m sorry, is it like, rude for me to ask where you get all of your money from?” you trace the stem of your wine glass with your finger before picking it up, “it’s just that you’re still fairly young, you know.”

he laughs with his mouth full, swallowing his food before responding, “well, my parents are both doctors who would send me money all the time when i first moved out,” he tentatively picks up his fork, “but then we grew apart so i used what i had from them to start gambling.” he goes to eat but then stops as he remembers something, “i also work at a law firm, but it doesn’t pay nearly as well as what i make from gambling at the lucky cat.”

you nod while dragging your fork through the sauce on your plate. a somewhat eerie silence settles over the two of you, and you’re tempted to say ‘your turn’ to get him to ask you a question like he did to you last night.

“hey, i just wanted to say thanks for last night.” his voice is quiet, and suddenly his half-eaten pasta is more interesting than you, his date, are. 

is he talking about…?

“uh, what part of last night are you thanking me for?” you think you know the answer, but you like seeing him squirm a little.

“come on y/n, don’t make me say it.” he groans and lets his fork clatter against his plate, causing you to laugh.

“i won’t! just teasing.” that same silence falls over the pair of you, but when you peer at sunghoon you can tell he wants to say something else.

“i’d uh,” he chuckles, “i’d like to return the favour, if that’s ok with you.”

oh. oh. 

you try to hide the way you shift in your seat and swallow the nervous lump in your throat; sunghoon’s gaze on you is unwavering.

“right now?”

his pupils seem to darken and dilate at your question - although both of you seem to be in agreeance that it wasn’t a question, and moreso a confirmation. the two of you seem to shove your dishes to the side at the same time, sending silverware clattering to the floor as you crawl across the table and mash your lips against sunghoon’s.

right off the bat this kiss is more desperate and lustful than all of the previous ones you’ve shared. you shift so your sitting with your thighs hanging off of the table, opening your legs briefly to let sunghoon step between them before wrapping them around his waist.

you kiss and bite at his wine-stained lips that taste so tart but so addictive. your hips are flush against his and you can feel that he’s already semi-hard through his pants - no wonder he was so flustered during dinner.

the cool air of sunghoon’s apartment chills you when he lifts your slip dress up and over your shoulders in one swift motion before tossing it to the floor. noticing the goosebumps erupt on your skin, sunghoon nudges your shoulder to get you to lay back against the table. he reaches to his left and grabs a candlestick.

“let me warm you up.”

you watch the muscles and tendons in his wrist flex as he tips the candle ever so slightly, allowing splotches of the dark red wax to drip onto your chest. the hot paraffin stings and burns but also makes you feel warm and excited and so good. sunghoon keeps the candle pointed at your body, making sure the open flame is a safe distance away from your skin. he moves his hand lower, and you jolt slightly when you feel the hot wax make contact with the sensitive skin between your tits.

warmth spreads across your skin as you feel sunghoon make a trail of wax down your stomach, to your belly button, and then stopping at the elastic waistband of your panties. as the wax dries it hardens, tightening your skin underneath it. the initial sting of the heat is gone, in its place a dull burning sensation that has your pulse quickening. 

your vision clouds when sunghoon touches you for the first time, using his middle and ring fingers to massage your cunt through your ruined underwear.

“fuck, you’re already so wet for me. i bet these panties were soaked before you even got here, huh?”

before you can say anything you feel a tug and your hips and hear the ripping of fabric; when you look down, you see sunghoon tossing your now torn thong to the floor. bummer, that was a cute one.

heat rushes to your face as you watch sunghoon scan your nearly naked figure, his eyes feasting on the vast expanse of your bare skin as if you’re the full-course meal he wants for dinner (sorry chef jay). 

he places his searing hot palms on your knees and pries your legs open to expose your dripping wet cunt. you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, too worried that if you glance at him while he’s staring at your pussy you’ll become too flustered. the undeniable swish of a jacket being removed can be heard, and when you spare a glance at sunghoon he’s rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt before diving in between your legs.

he doesn’t hesitate a second before diving into you, and you gasp and whine as you feel his tongue exploring your most private area. just the sound of him licking your pussy has your head spiralling, your nails scratching at the varnished countertop of sunghoon’s dining table before you move your hands to grasp at his hair.

your thighs start to burn as you open your legs as wide as you can, giving sunghoon the utmost access to your body. he uses his tongue to toy with your clit before he wraps his lips around it and sucks, shooting bolts of pleasure to every nerve in you.

when he slips his tongue into your hole you hiss and roll your hips into his face. sunghoon groans against you and continues to lick up your essence as if you’re a dripping popsicle on a hot summer day.

through pants and whines you manage to ask him: “do i taste good?”

“fuck, so good honey. the sweetest thing i’ve ever had.”

you scratch at his scalp and tangle your fingers in his hair as he greedily makes out with your sopping cunt, the wet sucking sounds echoing off of the walls of his vast dining room. he directs his focus back to your clit, causing your back to arch and your chest to heave; with every move you make you can feel the dried wax crack and pull at your skin. 

it feels like your skin is burning up as your orgasm approaches, the familiar inferno starting in the very pit of your stomach before spreading across your body like wildfire.

“fuck hoonie!” your cries only seem to spur sunghoon on, and you're so so so close to cumming - before the fire in between your legs is doused when he pulls away.

it feels like you’re the victim of some sick prank, waiting for the camera crew to jump out and scream ‘gotcha!’ while laughing at you lying on sunghoon’s dining table in desperation.

“w-what?” you catch sunghoon’s gaze as he fully stands up, his lips swollen and red and wet. he doesn’t respond, just grabs you by the waist before picking you up bridal style and carrying you further into his penthouse.

your first look at his bedroom is a blur since right after you enter sunghoon tosses you onto his bed. the sheets and pillowcases are navy silk, and it must be king-sized since it’s about triple the size of your twin bed at home.

for a moment you think he’s going to pick up where he left off and dive back into your cunt, but instead he captures your lips in a tender yet searing kiss. you don’t know how to feel about tasting yourself on his lips and tongue; it’s sensual and arousing, but also makes you feel bashful. 

you realise you’re only wearing your go-go boots and your bra - a weird combo, but soon both of them are discarded onto the floor of sunghoon’s bedroom.

the man in question towers above your now completely bare form as you lay sprawled out on the cool sheets of his bed. “you look,” he reaches a veiny hand up to loosen his tie, “so delicious right now.”

that does a number on you.

with little regard to benignity you pop the buttons on sunghoon’s dress shirt open one by one, and then try not to drool as he reveals his bare chest to you for the first time ever. his skin is smooth from his shoulders all the way down to his v-line, and you finally get to see that he has thick biceps (!!!!!).

in one hand he’s still gripping his tie, and you feel impossibly turned on as he crawls on top of you, the box frame creaking slightly under the weight from the two of you. sitting back on his knees, he gives you the same command as yesterday: “open your mouth.” and you do, again.

he places the taught fabric of his tie in your mouth, and you bite down. your face is shoved into the crook of his neck as he leans forward and ties the two ends in a tight knot at the back of your head, creating a gag. leaning back onto his knees once more, he takes a second to admire his masterpiece - you.

“is this,” he takes a second to regain his composure, “is this ok?”

you nod and try to say yes as best as you can, but it comes out as a warbled ‘mah’ due to the makeshift gag restricting your ability to speak as you normally do.

“good. just uh, tap my arm three times if you want me to stop, ok?” you make the same muffled noise in agreement, rubbing your thighs together for some much needed relief as his hands work to unbutton his pants and yank them, along with his boxers, to the floor.

in the dim lighting provided by the lamp on sunghoon’s bedside allows you to appreciate every dip and imperfection of his body, along with the way the veins in his forearms pop out as he reaches into his bedside table to grab a small foil packet.

using his teeth, sunghoon rips open the condom before sliding it onto himself and giving his length a few pumps. his eyes meet yours for a brief second as he positions himself on top of you, the tip of his cock nudging your clit ever so slightly and sending a jolt of pleasure through your veins. 

his cock easily slips into your already-sensitive cunt and you bite down on the tie in your mouth as you and sunghoon moan in tandem, the fabric already becoming wet with your saliva. he sinks his teeth into your neck and you can feel his pointed canines pinch your sensitive skin - maybe he’s a cullen. 

for a moment he just rests there, no doubt regaining his composure so he can fuck you into his mattress. lucky for him, you’re still sensitive after your last orgasm was ripped away from you, so it shouldn’t even take that much effort to make you cum. 

it feels like the world is moving in slow motion when sunghoon finally pulls his hips away from you, just enough so the tip of his cock is still inside your cunt, before pushing himself all the way back in. your hands explore the vast expanse of his toned back, feeling the muscles move and flex as he slowly picks up his pace.

soon his hips are thrusting into yours in a quick but deep motion, his movements so languid and precise your pussy is already slick and throbbing. your clit is begging for attention, and you almost cry when sunghoon eagles his hips just right so his pelvis rubs against it with each grind. the tie gag in your mouth rubs at the corners of your lips and you attempt to whine sunghoon’s name, tell him that you need more.

he throws his head back in ecstasy before burying his face in between your tits, licking at biting at the skin he marked with hot wax not too long ago. “your cunt is just milking my cock, sweetheart. so fucking tight.”

the cavity between your bodies becomes slick with sweat, and the sound of skin slapping against skin is much more prevalent when sunghoon picks up the pace of his thrusts once again. your legs are aching and you yelp as sunghoon grips the flesh of your thigh like it’s a slab of meat. his back is covered in long scratches courtesy of your acrylics and you’re sure your chest is littered with splotchy red marks from his teeth.

the fire deep inside of you is ignited once again, and you try your best to roll your hips upward in time with sunghoon’s movements as you chase your impending orgasm. sunghoon’s moans are equivalent to the pitch they were at when he was about to cum down your throat in the back of his car, only now they’re much louder and guttural without the fear of being caught in the act getting in the way.

when your orgasm finally starts to wash over you it feels like you're suspended in mid-air, waiting for someone to reel you in, to bring you back to reality. a feeling that can only be described as sweet, sweet relief floods your senses, leaving you a whimpering, twitching mess. sunghoon groans loudly on top of you and you feel him fill up the condom inside of you, his head hanging forward to rest in the crook of your neck once again. two hot sticky tears spill from your eyes, and you barely register the now soggy tie being removed from your mouth. 

your vision is blurry and your ears are ringing and when the warmth of sunghoon’s body disappears you want to cry out for him to come back. luckily he does, and you feel his presence beside you and you try to blink away your tears.

the ceiling slowly starts to come back into focus, and you can feel sunghoon leisurely picking off the dried up bits of blood red wax that are still stuck to your skin. 

you hear sunghoon ask you something, and you pull yourself out of your post-sex haze to listen to him. “hmm?”

“i said do you want to just… spend the night?”

you act as if you’re rolling the idea around in your head for a minute, but you already know the answer.

“i mean soojin told me she’ll be disappointed if i come home tonight, so i guess so.”

arm candy.

your new delta-kind nickname, courtesy of soojin. bestowed upon you when you and sunghoon walked into the lucky cat hand in hand so you could drop off your letter of resignation. soojin screamed so loud the whole strip probably heard her.

“you’re like his trophy wife.”

“we’re not even married?”

after spending the night at sunghoon’s penthouse you never really left. it became a gradual process of moving all of your stuff from your apartment into his, solidified by the termination of your lease - which the two of you celebrated by popping champagne and fucking on his balcony.

after some time the two of you fell into a sort of routine; he’d spend the day working at his law firm and you’d use his black amex card to go shopping - eventually he just made you a shareholder of his bank account. 

inspired by your newfound relationship with sunghoon, soojin worked up the courage to make a move on jay, who admitted that he had felt a connection since he first laid eyes on her (cute). the four of you spend nights out on the strip getting drunk and making bad decisions, acting like the city is your playground.

you wear skirts more and more and panties less and less, a decision that has led to you getting tongue-fucked by sunghoon in the bathroom of the lucky cat’s VIP longue on more than one occasion. he spoils you with jewellry from tiffany’s and vivienne westwood and with bags from coach and hermes; it’s likely that there isn’t a square foot in sunghoon’s penthouse where the two of you haven’t had sex.

you take tabs of acid off of his fingertips in the backs of limousines and town cars before hopping from club to club, allowing your brain to turn into a puddle of mush for a few hours to free you from your worries and woes (not that you have many).

sunghoon’s winning streak at the lucky cat keeps him rich to the point where he’s contemplating quitting his job at the law firm (he hasn’t yet, but it’s hot on his mind). you like to  watch him and his friends gamble, and you’ve even started to understand how the games work - except for pai gow poker, that one still confuses you. ever since you and soojin have started coming to the lucky cat as customers instead of barista’s, you get a barrage of dirty looks from your past coworkers.

“they’re just jealous,” sunghoon told you before checking his cards during a game of baccarat, “jealous that you’re living the american dream!”

and then he lost.

you had decided to spend the night at home to recover from drinking one too many mimosas at brunch, and sunghoon went out to the lucky cat with jay, soojin, jake and heeseung. the night started off normal at first, with jay and jake playing a couple rounds each on the slot machines before everyone gathered around to watch sunghoon play a round of craps. it was jake who told him to bet bigger than he ever has before - he’s always won, why would this game be any different?

“it’s bad y/n,” soojin tells you through the phone, “like hundreds of thousands of dollars kind of bad. it’s gonna take him a while to come back from this - both his ego and his bank account.”

when sunghoon got home you didn’t really know what to do. it felt as if there was a ghost hanging around your apartment; his eyes were glazed over and when you ask him if he’s okay and if he wants to talk he chooses to ignore you and locks himself in his office. 

you wait up for hours, fighting off sleep so you can be there for him when he comes out and wants to talk. at some point your nerves get the best of you and you head into his office, only for him to lash out at you like he never has before. sure, you and sunghoon and gotten into petty fight before, but the sheer look of anger in his eyes is enough to have you slamming the door shut with tears in your eyes.

you lay on your shared bed fully clothed, not sleeping a wink. it’s still nighttime, and your head is as busy as the strip is. staring at the fragments of yourself that you see scattered throughout sunghoon’s room, you begin to weigh your options. 

part of you expected sunghoon to remain undefeated forever, even though you know that’s not possible. but why did his first loss have to be so detrimental? and are you really prepared to live such an unpredictable lifestyle for god knows how long? pushing yourself off of your mattress, you grab a slip of paper and begin to write a note while trying to avoid smudging the ink with your tears.

hoonie, 

i love you, but it was never meant to be. 

what happens in vegas, stays in vegas. 

good bye.

y/n

it’s nearing 4:00 am when you quietly gather your belongings, take all of the cash from sunghoon’s emergency safe, and get in a taxi headed to the airport. sin city taglist: @deobitifull @n-wjns @starstruckluminarytale @smuchsmut @idkwiexist @sjakewrld @muffinminnie @jeondolly @kimmchijjajang @drunkjaked @lalalalawon