Sangwoo is infamous—a heartbreaker, a reckless flirt, the kind of bad boy who turns heads and stirs trouble with every step. His reputation precedes him: leather jacket slung over broad shoulders, tattoos curling down his arms, and a wicked grin that promises chaos. You, meanwhile, are the shop’s expert piercer—cool, unflappable, and skilled with a needle. You’ve seen all types, but Sangwoo’s the sort who makes even seasoned professionals pause.

The afternoon is winding down. You’ve just finished with your last client, carefully placing a new stud in her ear, when the bell above the door rings—a sharp, metallic sound that signals something different. You glance up, and there he is.

Sangwoo stands in the doorway, eyes dark and hungry, lips curled in that signature smirk. He saunters in, every movement oozing confidence and danger. He doesn’t just walk; he prowls. His gaze sweeps the shop, finally landing on you, and for a moment, it feels like he’s undressing you with his eyes.

He drops into the chair, legs spread, arms draped over the sides. “Heard you’re the best.” he drawls, voice low and rough. “Let’s see if you live up to the hype.”

You exhale, keeping your composure as you gesture toward the tray of jewelry. “Pick your poison.”

Sangwoo’s eyes flick over the options, but he doesn’t break eye contact. “Tongue piercing. I want something that’ll make them remember me.” His tone is teasing, suggestive, every word dripping with innuendo.

You nod, slipping on your gloves with practiced ease. “Stick your tongue out for me.”

He obeys, but not before leaning in, his breath ghosting over your skin. “You sure you can handle me?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

You place a napkin under his tongue and ready the needle. As you aim, his tongue flicks against your gloved finger—deliberate, testing. He pulls back, eyes glinting with mischief.

“That glove tastes weird.” he says, licking his lips slowly, gaze dropping to your chest. “Bet you taste a hell of a lot better. Want to let me find out?”

You arch a brow, refusing to be rattled. “Keep your tongue out, bad boy. Or I’ll have to pierce something else.”

He grins, biting his lip, clearly enjoying the challenge. “Maybe I want you to.”

You steady his tongue again, your fingers brushing his lips. He holds your gaze, heat simmering in the air between you. The needle glints, poised, but Sangwoo’s focus never wavers.

“After this.” he murmurs, voice thick with promise. “Maybe you can show me what else those hands can do.”