Through Their Eyes ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Hi 👋 I’ve seen that you take asks and that you do texts and I was wondering if you could do an Enhypen hyung line member (maybe Jay or Sunghoon but it up to you which member) prank where they text y/n and she responds with ,,bro who is it?” Like pretending to be a guy and the member is confused and gets jealous only to find out it was a prank. I hope I didn’t confuse you and if I did I’m really sorry 😭 also if it’s too much you can just ignore it 🫶

- 🍊 (the tangerine anon comeback 😎)

bro she’s busy

- sunghoon texts

enhypen texts masterlist

this was actually so funny lol tysm for this request I enjoyed it!

LN4 + MERCEDES DRIVER!READER — the rivalry between you and lando is no secret. hell—there’s an entire drive to survive episode dedicated to exploring and exploiting that animosity that exists between the two of you. pointed remarks on the radio during races, snide comments during media interviews. “where do you think you lost the podium?” one of those grating journalists would ask. adrenaline high. sweat on your back. mercedes cap on your head. your hands would grip the railing, feeling members of your pr team eyeing you carefully. “gosh, i don’t know, maybe when lando tried to ram me into a wall at turn 6?” media interviews are promptly cut short after that. clip compilations of the two of you. camera lenses that seem to sharpen whenever you walk near each other. you’re representing mercedes and picking fights like this is unprofessional. you’ve had it drilled into your head by one too many people. you get it. formula one is not just about racing—it’s about public image. and so, the next time an interviewer tries to get you to make a comment about lando, you take them in stride. no unprofessional behavior, no rude reply, no swears aimed at the mclaren driver. because you’re professional. you can handle it. even if it makes you wanna tear your eyes out. and, well, if you must find a silver lining to it, you happen to enjoy just how much it seems to be throwing off lando. puzzled looks. furrowed brows. taking a moment too long to answer a question after you. and if any fans point out that you seem to grin at just how utterly thrown off lando looks… well, then they’re surely reading too much into it.

This is so good 😭

♪ — 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗪𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦? lando norris x best friend! reader ( angst ) fic summary . . . like others before you, like it's a curse, if you start out as friends, you don't finish off as friends (5k words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

2013

The three of you sat perched on a wooden platform overlooking the track, swinging your legs as the older kids raced below. The sky was a deep orange, the sun slowly dipping behind the trees, casting long shadows across the asphalt.

It smelled like fuel, burnt rubber, and the sweet vanilla ice cream sandwiches melting in your hands.

Lando, as usual, was the one talking the most. “One day, we’re gonna be better than all of them.” He gestured to the racers speeding past. “Like, properly better. F1 better.”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him as you took another bite of your ice cream sandwich. “Bold of you to assume you’ll even fit in an F1 car,” you teased. “They already have you Velcroed to your kart seat because you used to fly out. What’s the plan? Glue?”

Lando scoffed, turning to you with an exaggerated look of offense. “Excuse you, I was small and aerodynamic.”

“You were a human paperclip.”

“At least I didn’t spin every time the wind hit me wrong.”

Before you could fire back, Max, who had been sitting in between you both, sighed dramatically and shoved his half-eaten ice cream sandwich straight into both your faces.

Cold, sticky vanilla smeared across your cheek. You gasped, jerking back as Lando let out a high-pitched noise of protest.

Max, completely unfazed, continued eating what was left of his ice cream. “Shut up, both of you,” he said, as if he hadn’t just committed an act of war.

You and Lando turned to each other, ice cream dripping from your faces, then back to Max.

“Oh, you’re dead,” Lando declared.

Max barely had time to react before the two of you launched at him, sticky hands smearing the rest of your desserts across his hair, his cheeks, anywhere you could reach.

The three of you tumbled onto the platform in a mess of laughter, shoving, and half-hearted kicks.

It was one of those moments you never thought you’d lose.

2018

Lando’s house felt warm, filled with the kind of easy comfort that only years of friendship could build. You were sprawled on his couch, Max sitting cross-legged on the floor, a half-finished bag of crisps between you. It felt just like old times—no pressures, no media, no cutthroat competition. Just the three of you.

And then Lando dropped the bombshell.

“I got the seat.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

Lando grinned, bouncing slightly where he sat. “McLaren. Next year. I’m gonna be a Formula 1 driver.”

For a second, there was silence. Then—chaos.

“NO. WAY!” Max shot up, grabbing Lando in a chokehold-hug, shaking him back and forth. “YOU’RE LYING.”

“Mate, I literally just said it, why would I—”

You barely let Lando finish before launching yourself at him too, arms wrapping tightly around both of them. “HOLY SHIT! LANDO, YOU’RE IN FORMULA 1!”

Lando laughed, his voice almost breathless from the force of your excitement. “I KNOW!”

The three of you clung to each other, giddy and weightless, like kids in a candy store.

When you finally let go, you turned to Max, determination flashing in your eyes. “We have to catch up, Max. We can’t let Lando enjoy the dream alone.”

Max smirked, nudging you. “Yeah, he’ll get a big head otherwise.”

Lando groaned, already regretting letting you two in his house. “Oh, great. Here we go.”

And just like that, the celebration turned into a roast session.

“Do you think they’re giving you a booster seat for the car?” you mused, tapping your chin.

Max snapped his fingers. “What about pedal extenders? Are those FIA-approved?”

“Oh, shut up,” Lando whined, throwing a pillow at both of you.

The night ended with all three of you curled up in sleeping bags on Lando’s living room floor, talking about what the future would look like. You laughed until your stomachs hurt, teasing and reminiscing, the weight of reality kept at bay for just a little longer.

By the time you got home the next morning, the high of the night before had faded into something colder, heavier—anxiety creeping up your back like the Other Mother from Coraline, whispering in your ear that time was ticking.

The metals of your dream clawed at your spine, a warning, a reminder—it’s now or never.

Lando had his McLaren seat. George had Williams. Alex had Red Bull.

And you?

You refused to let it end here. You refused to be left behind.

So you wasted no time. You spent the next few months fighting tooth and nail—getting on every call, talking to every team, pushing harder in every F2 race until your body ached from the effort. You couldn’t let up, couldn’t breathe, not until you had something.

And in the end, it paid off.

Sauber.

A vacant seat after Charles moved up to Ferrari. A chance. A shot.

The first thing you did? You invited Lando and Max to your diner—the same childhood spot where the three of you had spent countless nights in sticky vinyl booths, inhaling burgers and fries, talking about the future like it was already written for you.

They were messy eaters, as always. Lando had ketchup smeared at the corner of his mouth, and Max had a fry halfway to his lips when you slid a piece of paper across the table.

Your contract.

For a second, there was silence. The paper sat between them, your name printed at the bottom in ink that had barely dried.

Then—

“NO. FUCKING. WAY.”

Lando let out a yell so loud the entire diner turned to stare. Max, mouth still full of fries, made a sound between a choke and a cheer.

Then they both launched at you, pulling you into a hug across the table, fries and drinks nearly toppling over as they shouted over each other.

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT—”

“OH MY GOD, YOU LEGEND—”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS—”

“We’re actually doing it,” you gasped between laughter, arms still tangled around them. “We’re actually going to be in F1 together.”

And that’s how you got kicked out of the diner.

Well, technically, Lando stood on top of a chair and yelled something about "generational talent," which got you all thrown out, but still. Worth it.

As the three of you walked out into the night air, still giggling and breathless, you and Lando turned to Max.

“Your turn,” you said in unison.

Max hesitated. He looked at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, guys… I’m still in Formula Renault. It’s gonna take much longer for me.”

You and Lando deflated.

“But…” you started, searching for the words.

Lando took over. “That doesn’t mean you won’t get there.” He clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder. “You can’t give up. You belong with us.”

Max forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

And maybe, at the time, you really thought it was true.

2019

The three of you stood at the edge of the paddock, the sun hanging low in the morning sky, painting the track in golden light. You and Lando were already in your race suits, helmets tucked under your arms, while Max—still very much retired—rocked a team-neutral hoodie and his signature smirk.

“I have an idea,” Lando said, rubbing his hands together. “Rock, paper, scissors. Best of one. Winner gets Max in their garage for Sunday. Loser has him for quali.”

You snorted. “Like he’s some prize?”

“I am a prize, actually,” Max deadpanned, crossing his arms.

You ignored him and held out your fist. “Alright, Norris. Let’s do this.”

Lando did the same, and Max counted you down. “Three… two… one…”

You threw out scissors.

Lando threw paper.

A slow grin spread across your face. “Oh, this is so satisfying.”

Lando groaned dramatically, shoving his helmet onto his head. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” you sang, already stepping backward toward your garage, wiggling your fingers in a smug wave. “See you on Sunday, boys.”

Max clapped Lando on the back. “Can’t believe you choked that, mate.”

Lando grumbled something under his breath, dragging his feet toward McLaren.

On race day, Max stood in your garage, arms crossed as he watched the screens, tracking your every move on the circuit. Every lap, every turn, every scrap for position. You weren’t in the points yet, but you were fighting.

And then—P11. Just one spot away.

Lando finished P12, right behind you.

It wasn’t a podium. It wasn’t even points.

But it didn’t matter.

When you parked your car in parc fermé, your hands were still shaking from adrenaline. Lando’s McLaren pulled in right beside yours, and the moment he climbed out, he made a beeline for you, shoving your shoulder.

“You beat me.”

You smirked, shoving him back. “I did beat you.”

Lando gasped, feigning betrayal. “You’re not supposed to rub it in!”

“You’d rub it in!”

“Well, yeah, but—”

You both dissolved into laughter, playfully pushing at each other until your arms were tangled together, until it turned into a hug—one filled with giddy relief and the sheer overwhelming feeling of we did it.

Max watched from the sidelines, shaking his head with a small smile. “Bunch of idiots,” he muttered under his breath. But there was pride in his eyes.

The three of you had dreamed about this since you were kids.

And now?

Now it was real.

By the time Abu Dhabi rolled around, you and Lando had both finished your rookie seasons with points under your belts.

Sure, Lando ended up 11th in the standings while you finished just behind in 12th, but neither of you cared. If anything, it made things more fun—an unspoken rivalry that never turned bitter, just fueled your banter.

“You only finished ahead of me ‘cause McLaren’s faster,” you teased as you kicked your feet up on the restaurant booth, stealing a fry from Lando’s plate.

He scoffed, snatching it back before you could pop it in your mouth. “And you only finished one place behind me because I let you.”

Max let out a laugh from across the table, nearly choking on his drink. “Yeah, right,” he said, nudging Lando. “You were sweating every time she was in your mirrors.”

“I was not sweating—”

“Mate, I was in your garage for half the season. You were definitely sweating.”

Lando rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, knowing he was outnumbered. Instead, he grabbed a handful of his fries and chucked them at Max.

That was enough to start an all-out war.

Max launched a piece of his burger at Lando’s face. You flicked a spoonful of ketchup at Max’s hoodie. Lando retaliated by shoving a napkin full of salt in your lap, making you yelp and nearly knock over your drink. The three of you were loud and messy and probably two seconds away from getting kicked out.

It felt exactly like karting days—where there were no points, no contracts, no expectations. Just the three of you, laughing until your stomachs hurt.

Sure, Lando had bonded with Carlos that year, and you had somehow managed to crack Kimi Räikkönen’s icy exterior enough to make him chuckle a few times—a massive badge of honor, in your opinion. But no matter how many new friends you made in the paddock, at the end of the day, the three of you always ended up here.

Together.

2020

You sat at the dinner table, arms crossed on the surface, head resting against them. You hadn’t moved in a while. The glow from the kitchen light made the tear tracks on your face glisten, but you weren’t crying anymore.

Lando sat a few meters away on the couch, silent. He was never silent. But now, he was staring blankly at the floor, elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked, like if he loosened his grip, he might break too.

Max had quit racing. Dropped out of F3.

He had said it so easily, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he hadn’t spent over a decade chasing this dream with you and Lando, pushing through the grind of karting, junior formulas, training, race weekends, victories, and heartbreaks—all of it.

And now he was walking away. Just like that.

“I think I just need a break,” Max had said, voice steady, unreadable. “For my own sake.”

You understood. Of course, you did. You and Lando both did. Racing wasn’t just about driving fast. It was politics and pressure and expectations. It was eating, breathing, living the sport and leaving no room for anything else. And sometimes, it broke you before you even got to where you wanted to be.

Max had burned out before he could even get the chance.

And the worst part was, you felt like it was your fault.

You had been the one pushing him. Encouraging him to move up, hurry up, because you and Lando had made it, and he had to, too. It was supposed to be the three of you, like always. And in trying to keep him from being left behind, you had unknowingly pushed him over the edge.

But you didn’t say that.

Instead, you had hugged him. Tight. Like you could somehow hold everything together just by keeping him close.

“I respect your decision,” you had whispered against his shoulder, voice thick, tears in your eyes.

The crash was hard. Not in the physical sense—sure, the impact rattled you, and climbing out of the car with gravel stuck in every crevice of your suit was a pain, but it wasn’t that bad. You had worse in junior formulas.

What was bad was watching your best-ever result slip through your fingers.

P5. It was right there.

But Carlos had oversteered, lost control, and taken you with him into the gravel trap. The second you felt the hit, you knew it was over.

You had swallowed down the frustration when the engineer came on the radio. Your voice had been clipped, measured. “Yeah. I’m okay.” And then you climbed out, gave a wave to the crowd, and started the long walk back.

But the sting didn’t really settle in until you got back to your driver room. Until you sat on the little couch, helmet off, hands on your knees, staring at the ground as the DNF fully registered.

And it burned even worse when you heard that Lando had gone straight to Carlos.

Comforting him.

Lando—your Lando—was in the McLaren garage, talking to his teammate, making sure he was alright. And you?

You were here. Alone.

Waiting.

For a second, you thought, Maybe he just hasn’t gotten the chance yet. Maybe he’d text. Maybe he’d pop into your garage later, like he always did. Maybe—

Your phone vibrated. You snatched it up, pulse kicking up in anticipation.

It wasn’t Lando.

It was Max. "Shitty luck today. You okay?"

And then your mom. "I saw the crash, sweetheart. Call me when you can."

And then—Lando’s mom.

Your throat tightened.

You responded to Max first. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just pissed."

Three dots. He was typing. "Understandable. Want me to insult Carlos for you?"

A wet laugh bubbled up in your throat, but it didn’t quite make it out. You swallowed hard. "Please."

Max sent back a voice note that was mostly just an annoyed rant about Carlos, and karma coming back to bite him in the ass. It helped a little.

You sat there for a long time, staring at your phone, waiting for a message from Lando. But it never came.

2021

The leaves are starting to rust at the edges. The paddock smells like oil, fresh tire rubber, and something a little sweet—like nostalgia fermenting in the heat.

The announcement had dropped that morning. Yn Ln to Ferrari, 2022. Your face, glowing in red, on every screen. Headlines scream legacy, potential, fire-in-her-veins. You’re still driving for Sauber, for now. But the future is coming in scarlet.

You walk the paddock with practiced calm. Smile. Wave. Say thank you. Cameras flash. People nod. But you’re searching. Just one face.

You find Max first.

He’s leaning on the fence by the media pens, sunglasses too big for his face, grin even bigger. “Ferrari, huh?” he says, pulling you into a hug. “About time, you fast little shit.”

You laugh into his shoulder. “Thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

“Never. I’m retiring, not dead.” He pulls back, his eyes soft behind the joke. “Seriously. I’m proud of you.”

You don’t realize how much you needed that until it lands.

You talk for a bit—he asks about the simulator work, if your uncle cried yet, what kind of pasta Ferrari serves in hospitality. You ask how he is, really. He shrugs like it’s nothing, but you see the tightness in his jaw. Max has always been good at hiding the cracks. You’ve always been better at spotting them.

Eventually, he nods over his shoulder. “Have you seen him?”

Your smile falters.

“No,” you say. “Not yet.”

He just hums. Doesn’t push. That’s Max. He always knows when not to.

It’s later, past sunset, when you find Lando. He’s sitting on the steps behind the McLaren garage, fiddling with a wristband, head low. The air smells like spilled rubber and something burnt. Maybe it’s just your nerves.

You stop a few paces away, sipping slowly from a mug. Steam curls upward—thick with chocolate and memory.

“Hey,” you say softly.

He doesn’t look up. “Hey.”

“I thought you’d come find me.”

“I’m busy,” he mutters. “Media. Strategy meetings. Debrief.”

You nod, even though you walked past McLaren hospitality earlier. It was quiet as a tomb—untouched catering trays, muted highlights looping endlessly on big screens.

“You saw the news?”

“Whole world saw the news.”

You take another sip. Your fingers curl tighter around the ceramic. Red light from the garages catches on the rim, lighting up the faded black scrawl like a bruise.

Eventually, Lando glances up.

His eyes find the mug. Something shifts in him.

“You still have that?” he asks, voice low, barely above the hum of the lights.

You blink. Look down at it like it hasn’t been cradled between your palms for the last three years.

“Of course I do,” you say. Soft. Like it should’ve been obvious.

He looks away again, jaw tightening. “Congrats,” he says, flat. Like a press release. Like a stranger.

“Thanks.”

Silence blooms between you—slow, heavy, awful. The kind that sinks teeth into soft places.

You shift on your feet, suddenly too aware of all the hairline fractures running through this moment. “Are we okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

Just lets the question hang in the air, trembling between you like a fraying rope. Too many missed calls. Too many left-on-reads. Too many almosts.

A gust of wind tugs at your jacket. The paddock hums behind you, oblivious.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say eventually. Your voice doesn’t shake. Not out loud.

You turn before he can say anything else. You don’t finish your drink.

The mug in your hand feels heavier than ever.

And he doesn’t stop you.

 Doesn’t even say goodbye.

Round five. Miami. Tight corners. Bad timing. Worse luck. And then the world tilts sideways.

You don’t even know who clipped who first. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was him. Maybe the track just didn’t want to play nice that day. But the second it happens—carbon shards, dust clouds, radio static—you know.

You know it’s Lando.

And he’s livid.

He’s out of the car before you even fully process the impact. Helmet half-off, fury full-throttle. You see him stomping across the run-off, shouting over the marshals like you murdered his race on purpose.

“You can’t even follow a damn line!” “Fucking rookie move!” “What were you even looking at?!”

You’re still strapped in. Still staring ahead. Still trying to breathe past the adrenaline choking your throat. Your hands are trembling on the steering wheel. Your visor’s fogged from the heat and the sudden shock and the way his words hit like gravel through glass.

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t check if you're okay. Not even a glance. Just pure, unfiltered anger, flung like shrapnel in your direction as they start pulling him back, tugging at his fireproofs like maybe he's the one in danger here.

You're not crying. Not yet. Not really. But something inside you feels loose. Wobbly. Like a tooth that's been knocked but not pulled. You're still in the damn car.

Still hearing the crunch on loop.

 Still feeling the snap of the impact reverberating through your bones.

Still wondering if maybe it was your fault. If you ruined everything. If Ferrari’s going to rethink the whole thing now. If this is what everyone means when they whisper “too young, too fast, not ready.”

Eventually someone helps you out. Gentle hands. Calm voice. A blur. You don’t catch their name.

You don’t even realize your leg’s scraped until you see the blood on your suit.

Lando’s already gone.

2024

It starts in papaya.

Bright, blinding. The colour of summer and stupid hope. Of grins cracked too wide and champagne caught in lashes. Of him. Lando’s first win. Confetti cannons, arms raised, the world roaring his name like they always knew he could do it. Maybe they did.

You watch from the shadows of your garage. Your race suit still half-zipped, sweat cooling sticky on your back, hands curled in your lap like you forgot how to unclench. You watch the replays loop, over and over—Lando crossing the line, Lando screaming on the radio, Lando collapsing into his engineer’s arms like a boy who finally got his dream back after all the nightmares.

Your heart does that stupid thing again. That lurch. That slow roll in your chest like it’s reacting late to something it shouldn't care about.

You tell yourself it’s hunger. Low blood sugar. The kind of headache you get when you haven’t drunk enough water and your teammate’s spraying champagne three podium steps above your finish.

But it’s not that.

It’s the echo. This track. The one where you both crashed two years ago, where everything spilled out in smoke and sharp words and silence that never healed right. You remember the screech, the impact, the things he said—still crusted into the back of your mind like dried blood. Now he’s got a trophy, and you’ve got a lonely P5 and the ghost of something that used to be important.

Charles got P3. Your garage is down in parc fermé, hands in the air, hugging Charles like they’ve waited their whole lives for a glimpse of this kind of red victory. But you’re not there.

You stay back. Sit alone on a garage stool that’s slightly too cold, unzipping your suit just enough to breathe. Your gloves are still on. You haven’t even taken your helmet off yet.

It’s your day.

Ferrari in full blaze. Glory in red, engines singing. You did it.

First win. First star. First everything.

The moment swells, huge and holy. You don’t even feel the weight of it until you're in the cooldown room, back pressed to the wall, legs out, laughing into the still-hot air, Max's voice in your ear, full blast.

“I TOLD YOU! I BLOODY TOLD YOU!” You laugh so hard you drop the cap they gave you, joy curling up your spine like steam from the pavement. You're sticky with triumph, breathless with it.

Then the door swings open.

Lando. P2 hat in his hand, face unreadable.

He sees you, the phone still in your hand. “Is that Max?”

You nod. Smile. Hold it out without thinking, thinking maybe he wants to say join in, maybe the past can stay in the past today. You think he’ll grin and shout something stupid like he used to. That he'll be proud. That he’ll be proud of you.

He takes the phone.

And his voice stays flat.

He talks about his own race. The setup. The tyre deg. The strategy error on lap thirty-nine. Max says something back, cheerful and half-mocking, and Lando hands the phone back without another word. Doesn’t even look you in the eye.

The fizz in your blood dulls. Something inside flickers out. You sit there holding the phone to your chest like it’s a shield. Like it can still protect you from the fact that he didn’t care—not really. That your victory didn’t matter if it wasn’t his.

You stand on the podium together, the three of you. The air is heavy with bubbles and praise and burnt rubber.

He doesn’t spray you with champagne.

Doesn’t even turn your way.

You look up. Try to find the taste of triumph on your tongue. Try to taste what you’ve been chasing your whole damn life.

But all you get is the sharp sting of carbonated bitterness.

And the ache of something that used to be a friendship, now fizzed flat in your throat.

It’s the final race

Lando’s on pole. You’re right beside him. Red to his orange. Ferrari to his McLaren. Fire to his flame. The cameras catch it like it’s poetry—the two of you lined up, side by side, history written in every glare off your visors. You don’t look at him, not before lights out. Not even during the anthem. But your heart is beating like it knows something your brain won’t admit: that this is the one. The big one. The decider. Title fight. Winner takes it all.

The race is war. Brutal. A symphony of tire squeals and tight corners and elbows that don’t ask permission. You fight like hell, like the whole year’s been leading to this exact lap, this exact second, wheel to wheel with the boy who once swore he'd never fight you like this. The same boy who told you you deserved the world, now slicing across your front wing like he’d rather take you out than let you through. Every overtake is a punch to the ribs. Every radio call is static. It’s rage and glory and god, you think you might be crying under the helmet but there's no time to tell.

And in the end, it's him.

McLaren wins. He wins.

You lose.

The moment he crosses the line, the world explodes. Orange smoke, fists in the air, the kind of euphoria you used to dream about when you were kids racing on sims. Zach hoists him like a trophy himself, arms wrapped around Lando like he’s just watched his son conquer the gods. There’s champagne, there’s screaming, there’s the way the cameras chase him as if he is the sun.

You stand behind the barrier. Alone. Helmet still on. Your radio crackles in your ear but you don’t hear it. Your hands are still gripping the wheel in your mind, still tight, still aching. Your whole body is shaking and you don’t know if it’s adrenaline or heartbreak, but your eyes are burning. Everything inside you is burning.

You want to be happy for him. You do. You know what this means to him. You know how long he’s waited for this moment. You know every sacrifice he's made, every time he came second, every time he bit his tongue while others were crowned. You want to scream with him. You want to run and jump into that pile of mechanics, be lifted like you’re weightless. You want to feel like this mattered, even if it wasn’t your win.

But all you feel is the silence that comes after the music stops. All you feel is how no one is looking for you. All you feel is the absence of his eyes finding yours. The way he doesn’t search for you through the chaos. The way he doesn’t even check if you’re okay.

All you feel is alone.

You’re holding a half-finished bottle of water, and the ache in your throat is so real it makes you want to choke on it. It's not the kind of thirst you can quench, no matter how much you drink. It’s heavier than that. You’re still trying to swallow it all down when you hear someone shout from the hallway, “Hold the door!” So you do.

It’s him.

Lando.

He slows when he sees you standing there, frozen, the soft hiss of the elevator’s hum cutting through the silence. He stops short, eyes narrowing, like he wasn’t expecting you, like he thought he could just breeze past without noticing how broken the air is between you two.

“If I’d known it was you…” he murmurs to himself, almost too quiet, stepping in anyway, “…I’d have waited.”

But the words hang like smoke. You don’t breathe them in. You don’t move. There’s a moment of nothingness. No one speaks. The numbers above blink slowly, too slow, their yellow light slicing the quiet.

You can’t take it anymore. Your fingers clutch the water bottle like it might disappear if you don’t hold it tight enough. You don’t look at him. Not right away. But you feel the weight of his gaze pulling on you. Tugging at the jagged edges inside your chest.

"Are we still friends?" you ask, your voice so soft it almost doesn’t sound like it belongs to you. It’s like you’re praying, begging for something you know you can’t have.

Lando doesn’t answer right away. The hum of the elevator becomes too loud. Too big. It rattles your nerves.

Then, quiet as the night. "No."

The word lands between you two, heavy and final. You don’t move. You can’t. You don’t know what hurts more—the way his voice cracked the truth or the way it stung like acid.

You stare at the numbers above. They flicker. The 9th floor. Your floor’s the 13th. You press the button anyway, stopping the elevator dead in its tracks.

The doors slide open. It’s not your floor. But you don’t care. You step out without hesitation, without another word, like the weight of the world was too much for the small, cramped space of the elevator. You’d rather walk twenty flights, climb each one, than let him see you break. Than let him watch as your heart splinters into pieces you can’t put back together.

You don’t look back. Not once. Even though you know he’s standing there, frozen in the open doors.

It’s better this way.

A Quiet Goodbye

tw:ANGSTTTTT, I love making people cry. it's my favorite hobby. enjoyyyy.

Imagine you and Sukuna were once best friends, long before his acting career took off and he became one of the most famous actors known for playing evil characters. He had other friends, plenty of them, but somehow he always managed to find his way back to you. It was a pattern—whenever he found a new girl, he would stop talking to you. You would pull away, not wanting to make the girls uncomfortable or give them the wrong idea. And each time, he would block you without a second thought.

You were always alone. You didn’t have many friends, and most people didn’t know much about you. But you had always loved him, harbored a quiet, aching crush that never seemed to go away. Once, you’d even gathered the courage to tell him, only for him to reject you outright, coldly saying he had never thought you were pretty or special in any way.

And then, one day, he introduced you to one of his friends, Naoya Zenin. At first, Naoya seemed nice, even charming, though he’d occasionally say things that made your stomach twist. You brushed it off, thinking he was just another one of those "red pill" guys—annoying but harmless. You went on two dates with him before things took a dark turn.

Without warning, his mood shifted. His anger flared over something you couldn't even understand, and he raised his hand against you. The hit came so fast, so hard, that for a moment you thought you might die. When you finally managed to escape, battered and broken, you went to Sukuna, desperate for some kind of support, some validation that what you went through was real.

But he looked at you, stunned. He couldn’t believe it—couldn't comprehend how someone could be so cruel, how anyone could leave you looking like this, with your skin bruised and spirit crushed.

That was when everything began to change between you and Sukuna. Suddenly, he started giving mixed signals, confusing hints that he might like you after all. You didn't see it—you couldn't. Not after he’d told you so bluntly that he would never be with someone like you, that you were ugly, unworthy of his affection.

But now, he was being… different. Kinder, gentler. He stopped talking to other girls, his focus shifting entirely to you. Yet you still couldn’t put two and two together until the day he confessed.

And so, the relationship began.

What Sukuna hadn’t told you was how much he actually valued your friendship. There had always been this inexplicable pull toward you, something he could never quite resist, even when he wanted to. His friends would often tease him for hanging out with you, mocking him for being seen with someone they deemed so ordinary. But he couldn’t help it—being near you brought him a strange sense of peace, a quiet he couldn’t find anywhere else.

He had never looked at you and thought, Yes, she’s beautiful, she’s hot. He’d never felt that kind of attraction to you, nothing like what he felt with other girls. But after seeing what Naoya had done to you—the bruises on your face, the purple marks on your neck—something in him broke. Guilt gnawed at his insides, sharp and unrelenting. It was his fault for introducing you to Naoya, knowing the kind of person he was, aware of his violent tendencies and twisted beliefs. He’d nearly killed Naoya that night in his fury, and yet, he felt no regret for what he’d done.

Seeing you like that, broken and bruised, Sukuna’s heart felt like it was in pieces. How could anyone hurt you like that? Why would they? His guilt, his confusion—they all merged into something he could hardly understand. And that’s when he thought, Maybe we should start dating. Maybe I can make it up to her somehow.

He didn’t mind putting on an act for you, pretending to be something he wasn’t, if it meant you’d be happy. Hell, he’d even marry you if it brought you some peace. His life would be calmer, more grounded, maybe even bearable. But love? No, he wasn’t sure if it was love—at least not the kind he was used to.

He did care for you, maybe even more than he wanted to admit. But it wasn’t the passionate, fiery love he’d experienced before. It was a tangled mess of guilt, pity, and confusion, something he couldn’t quite name or understand. And yet, here he was, telling himself that this was the right thing to do, that somehow he could make it work.

He didn't love you… or maybe he did. It just wasn’t the love he recognized, and in his mind, that meant it wasn't real love at all. But he was here, and you were here, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

The relationship lasted two months. In those two months, Sukuna managed to do the exact thing he had never wanted—to destroy the friendship that had somehow always managed to survive. It happened in the heat of a petty argument, one he had started out of jealousy, and before he knew it, he said the words he had sworn he’d never say.

He could almost hear your heart breaking in the silence that followed.

What he hated most about himself was that you just sat there and took it. He’d said something irreversible, something so damaging that it severed whatever fragile thread had been holding you two together. The cheap, promise ring he’d given you, a half-hearted attempt at making things feel real, suddenly seemed to mean more to you than your entire life did to him. You didn’t scream, you didn’t ask questions, you didn’t even breathe. You just… went quiet.

"I'm sorry, Sukuna. You will never see me again," you said, your voice calm, almost resigned. Those were the last words he heard from you. And true to your promise, he never saw or heard from you again.

So stupid of him, not to take any photos, not to have any memories. Nothing to look back on. Nothing at all. How could someone not even have a single picture of their own girlfriend?

He had nothing.

Until one day, years later, on this show. It was one of those lighthearted segments where they rummaged through celebrities' old phones or cameras, searching for funny or embarrassing moments from their past. It was supposed to be harmless fun—the worst they could find were pictures of his reckless teenage years, a drunken escapade or two.

But as they scrolled through the content, they stumbled upon a photo. His cocky, confident smile faltered instantly.

It was a picture of you and him, taken just when you two were dating. The photo was blurry, almost out of focus, and it looked like it had been taken in the winter. The angle was awkward, low—his little brother must have snapped it. Snowflakes clung to your hair, your cheeks flushed from the cold, and he could see himself standing close beside you, his arm draped around your shoulder. he was looking at you with this lovestruck look and he didn't even notice. The image screamed of nostalgia, of a time when things were simpler, before everything had fallen apart.

He felt his throat tighten, a sharp ache spreading through his chest. He was done with this show, done with the stupid games, done with all of it.

He just stared at the photograph, and it all came rushing back—the memories, the regrets, the questions that had haunted him for years. Why did he let that happen? Why did his feelings always have to be so complicated? He could feel himself unraveling, trying desperately to pull himself together as he fidgeted with the ring on his pinky—the cheap, matching promise ring. He still had it. The once bright color had faded, the metal tarnished and worn, but he had never taken it off.

“Can we skip this, if you don’t mind?” he asked, his voice calm but strained.

The host, sensing the shift in the air, nodded quickly. "Of course," they said, attempting to change the subject, to bring the mood back to something light and fun. But the damage was done. The audience sensed it too—a weight, a heaviness that hadn’t been there before.

After that, the clip went viral, plastered across every media outlet and social media platform. People watched and rewatched how his smile had vanished, how his demeanor had changed so suddenly. It sparked a frenzy of curiosity. Who was she? Who were you?

Rumors began to swirl. Speculation filled the tabloids and gossip columns, the internet buzzing with theories. Was it a lost love? A tragic breakup? Why had a simple photograph caused such a reaction from someone like him, someone known for his confidence and charm?

People began to dig.

They dug for the reason why a man who seemingly had it all felt so hollow. They looked for the woman who had left him feeling empty. They searched for the pieces of a story they didn’t even know was missing, hoping to find something—anything—that would explain why the man who had everything seemed to be missing the one thing he needed most.

The search grew relentless. Every day, new articles emerged, headlines screaming with intrigue: "Who is the Woman Behind Sukuna’s Silence?" and "The Mystery Girl That Broke the Unbreakable Heart."

Fans combed through his old interviews, scrutinizing every word, every expression, every hint of a hidden past. They poured over his social media, dissected every photo, every caption, looking for a clue—a name, a face, something that could connect the dots. The more they searched, the more the mystery deepened.

Some claimed to know you, throwing out names that didn't match. Others insisted you were just a figment of imagination, a constructed narrative to create drama. But those who had seen the clip, who had witnessed that fleeting moment of vulnerability, knew better. There was something real there—something raw and unspoken that lingered in his eyes.

Sukuna watched it all unfold from the sidelines, his irritation growing with every passing day. He’d wanted to move on, to bury the past in the deepest recesses of his mind, but now it was out there, and the world wouldn’t let it go.

His publicist and manager urged him to address it, to release a statement and quell the rumors. But what could he say? That he’d lost someone who meant more to him than he ever realized? That he’d driven you away with his own stubborn pride and fear? That he’d been living in the shadow of that mistake ever since?

And then, one day, there was a breakthrough.

A fan account managed to unearth an old college photo, a group shot with Sukuna laughing at the center, and there you were, standing quietly on the edge. It was grainy and low-quality, but it was enough. The caption beneath read: "Found her?"

Suddenly, everyone wanted to know your name, your story, why you had vanished from his life without a trace. The internet roared to life with theories and searches, names tossed around like confetti, your image dissected and magnified.

But despite the frenzy, there was nothing—no name, no background, no concrete information. Just those two blurry photos, and sad eyes.

True to your word, you had managed to remain a ghost, a presence without substance.

Then, one day, a sudden and stark revelation came to light. Your younger sister, who had been silent all these years, stepped forward with a written statement. The message was simple, direct, and deeply poignant:

“To whom it may concern,

The woman in the photos you have been searching for is my sister,Y/N. She passed away five years ago in a tragic accident—a drunk driver hit her car. Our family has chosen to grieve privately and respectfully, and we ask that you do the same. Please stop trying to find her. She is no longer here, and continuing to search will only add to the pain her loved ones have endured.

Thank you,

Y/S/N”

----

no part two. suffer hehe. crying is the new cardio

cherry pits - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl

word count. 12.9k

a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!

You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.

Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.

One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.

That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money. 

Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.

Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.

You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.

The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.

A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.

Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.

As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.

You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty. 

You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.

You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.

“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”

“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over. 

The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.

“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.

You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”

You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.

—

That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.

Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.

You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice. 

Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.

“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.

“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.

“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house. 

“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”

He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples. 

“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.

A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior. 

“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.

He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”

“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.

“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.

“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.

“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.

“Just water is fine.”

A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.

“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”

“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).

“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”

“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.

“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”

“So you're a student?”

“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”

You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms. 

You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?

You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.

“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.

“She’s turning eight this summer.”

“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”

“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts. 

He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”

You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”

“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”

“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.

He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.

“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”

He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”

“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.

Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.

“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.

“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away. 

On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of. 

Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly. 

“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.

“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”

“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.

“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”

“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.

“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you. 

“C’mon, mom!”

“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”

“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.

“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”

Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.

He does live right by, after all.

That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”

You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.

“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”

“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”

You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic. 

—

One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.

Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.

Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care. 

Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.

You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.

“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein. 

“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.

You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.” 

He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”

A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”

And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.

And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right? 

Wrong. It’s unbearable.

Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.

At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.

Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-

Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us. 

You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.

“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”

“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”

“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.

He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.

Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”

You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”

“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.

“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.

Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.

You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well. 

You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice. 

He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.

Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you. 

He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them. 

His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.

You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss. 

A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.

“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.

“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. 

Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”

“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.

—

Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor. 

A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table. 

“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you. 

Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.

This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy. 

It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.

The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.

At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.

The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.

When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.

Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.

You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.

He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.

Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.

Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style. 

Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.

She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”

“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.

“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.

“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.

He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”

“No, that’s the thing-”

“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”

“No, just listen-”

“So let’s just forget about it, and-”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.

“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.

“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”

There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”

“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.

“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.

“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.

“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.

Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.

You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.

Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.

As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly. 

“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.

“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.

“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.

“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.

“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.

“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.

He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.

You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.

You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don’t need to do this, you know-”

“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.

You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.

You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”

You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.

“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.

“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.

“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”

He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.

He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.

“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”

The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax. 

You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.

His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.

“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.

“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.

His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.

You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.

He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.

“Was that too much?” 

“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.

“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.

“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.

“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.

“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.

“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.

“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”

“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.

“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.

“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn. 

“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.

There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?

The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.

this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)

© asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

𝗛𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘𝗡 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗦 | hyung line pj

enhypen hyung line as angst love tropes.

GENRE: angst, heartbreak, sadness, crying (in general, they’re all sad oneshots).

a/n: this is a master list for my new project called “hundred broken hearts”. all the fics are on progress, some more than others, so i’m asking you to be patient and to please COMMENT & REBLOG to share. thank you 🩷

𝗙𝗔𝗗𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨 (l.hs)

right person, wrong time.

PAIRING: idol!heeseung x reader (f)

SUMMARY: when you were a child, you had always believed your life was a fairytale, but as you grew up you realised it was just a childish thought. because your story didn’t end with happily ever after.

WARNINGS: heartbreak, break up, heeseung barely has time for reader, he’s a little in denial, reader tries to be strong for the both of them, angst, more to be added.

PUBLISHED: soon.

WC: 2.4k for now.

TAGLIST: open.

NOW PLAYING: Fade Into You by Mazzy Star

𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗨𝗦 (p.js)

forbidden love

PAIRING: goldenboy!jay x rival!reader (f)

SUMMARY: you wished you could frame time when you bickered about grades and assignments, not when the reality of the situation made it impossible for you to be together. because even in the quiet of your heartbreak, one truth remained, you would never stop loving him.

WARNINGS: mentions of anxiety attacks, rivalry in high school, they come from different worlds, break up, angst, crying, more to be added.

PUBLISHED: soon.

WC: 2k for now.

TAGLIST: open.

NOW PLAYING: What About Us by P!nk

𝗬𝗢𝗨’𝗥𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗠𝗘 (s.jy)

unrequited love (but is it really?)

PAIRING: bestfriend!jake x reader (f)

SUMMARY: you’d loved him quietly for so long, it felt like a part of who you were. but love, when unspoken, had a way of festering. it filled the silences, lingered in the spaces between you, and left you questioning everything.

WARNINGS: heartbreak, too little communication (barely one at all), reader watches from afar, jake is kinda a f boy (but make it romantically, lol), if only they confessed they’d be happy, more to be added.

PUBLISHED: soon.

WC: 1k for now.

TAGLIST: open.

𝗘𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨 (p.sh)

falling out of love

PAIRING: sunghoon x reader (f)

SUMMARY: you used to think love was unshakable, that once you had it, it would always be enough. but with sunghoon, you realized love faded slowly, like a photograph left too long in the sun.

WARNINGS: established relationship, angst, break up, sunghoon doesn’t love reader anymore, more to be added.

PUBLISHED: soon.

WC: 1.3k for now.

TAGLIST: open.

NOW PLAYING: enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo

(permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emislove @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle

In another universe

synopsis ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 You swore the next time you saw Sunghoon you would cuss him out and turn a cold shoulder. But when he suddenly appears at your apartment door one night, drunk and desperate, you find yourself faltering

now playing ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10 difficult - gracie abrams, anaheim -niki, hope ur okay - olivia rodrigo

warnings ˎˊ˗ cursing, crying, fighting, kissing, mentions of hoon being emotionally unavailable, mentions of breaking up, heavyyyy angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of being drunk, mentions of children, open ending, use of the word masochist once, pet names

genre ⭑.ᐟ hurt to ??

pairings: non-idol ex!sunghoon x female reader

wc ᵎᵎ 1.28k

thoughts frm yuya 💭 fun fact this was actually based off a convo i had with my ex!!!!!! 😁😁😁 so! hit kinda close to home guys! anyways angst is actually so fun to write i won't even lie...

You had just finished taking a shower when you heard a few gentle and quiet knocks coming from your door, barely audible but loud enough for you to hear them. Hand still intertwined in your wet hair in an attempt to dry it, you peered out the peephole to check who was disturbing you at this hour. 

Fuck. 

Out of all the people you didn’t want to see, Park Sunghoon was at the top of that list. Yet there he stood, eyes heavy and lidded, hair a mess, and gaze averted on the floor, yet you could tell his eyes were plagued with desperation. And even though you so badly wanted to ignore him standing out there hopelessly, a small part of you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you had done that. 

Keeping the door ajar you squeezed your head between the gap, his eyes immediately darted to your own. Fuck, you shouldn’t have done this. You knew you shouldn’t have done this because the moment his eyes met yours you felt the all-so-familiar sense of longing overcoming your soul, the sense of longing you’d been trying to fight off for 6 months; all for it to come crashing down on you again. Well, there goes half a year's worth of healing. 

“Sunghoon? What are you doing here?” 

“YN, I uh- I didn’t think you’d open up…” shit. His breath reeked of alcohol, of course, the only time he’d come to see you would be when he was drunk. 

“Are you drunk Sunghoon?” your words lingered with bitterness as they left your tongue 

“Just- just a bit…can I come in?” his eyes were still pleading, and that accompanied by the shaking of his voice would’ve been enough to break you. But you refused to let him do that again. 

“Sunghoon you’re drunk you really should just go home-” your hands fumbled at the doorknob as you tried to gently shut the door, but Sunghoon was quicker than you it seemed. 

“Please,” his hand reaching towards your own, “I’ll be good.” fuck. 

You hated how easily you faltered under his words, his gaze, his touch. You hated it so badly, yet you allowed yourself to do so every. single. time.

Begrudgingly you opened the door fully to let him drunkenly stumble in, collapsing at the end of your bed. A scene all too familiar that haunted you in your sleep. You swore you would never let Sunghoon back into your life, that the next time you saw him you would spit insults in his face and stand your ground, yet with one touch of the wrist the defences you raised for yourself seemed to be built upon sand. 

Seating yourself at the edge of your bed you allowed yourself to gingerly run your fingers through his hair, you missed this. However, that was all the more reason why you shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be allowing yourself to hurt again, just at the expense of a few fleeting moments of serenity. 

“Why are you here drunk Sunghoon?” 

“I,” he propped himself up, allowing him to stare into your glossy eyes, “I don’t really know. I got kinda drunk and- fuck I couldn’t stop thinking about you love.”

Love, fuck you hated how naturally it rolled off his tongue. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Sorry…” he mumbled hazily, “Don’t you miss it though?”

You did. “No.”

“Well I do, I miss you YN. I miss all of this, your hugs, your voice, your touch, your anger. Fuck, I miss being scolded by you after drinking actually, it’s weird right, maybe I’m a masochist.” he said with a small grin

“Hoonie come on-” Hoonie, you didn’t even mean to say it yet the words seemed to come out of you like it was an instinct. 

“I missed that too,” he cut in as his hand slowly drew circles around your knuckles, “Shit YN I missed you so much” his eyes slowly started to well up with tears, a few threatening to drip down. You hated how your heart still held a soft spot for him, but you hated seeing him cry even more. 

“Hoon don’t cry.” your hands reached over to cup his face, fuck if this was all so wrong why did it feel so right. Like your hand belonged there. 

“YN- fuck,” now he really was crying “I really do love you.”

Do, present tense. “Just because you loved me doesn’t mean I felt loved by you” 

The memories you tried so hard to repress suddenly flooded all back to you, the arguments, the sleepless nights, the cold glares. The reason you broke up in the first place. You tried your hardest to forget that night, the shouts between you two that filled up your apartment, the way his words pierced through your heart like a spear, the way he walked out so easily. All to just walk back into your heart like he owned the place. Fuck he did own your heart though, he never stopped owning it. 

“I’m sorry YN. I’m so so sorry, I should’ve been better. I can be better. Please, I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved. I won’t shut you out anymore, fuck I never should’ve. I just- please, I can’t keep living without you. I haven’t been living without you-” he was practically sobbing now. “Please YN, I mean it.”

You wiped away the tears running down his cheeks, seeming to not notice how your eyes were stinging with tears as well. “Hoonie I miss you too but, we can’t keep hurting each other like this. We aren’t good for each other” 

“We were good YN. It was so so good, I just fucked it up. Please give me a chance, I can be better.” 

Your brain told you to block out his words; and deny everything that was coming out of his mouth, but your heart seemed to overpower those commands. “It wasn’t just you Hoonie, I could’ve been better too-” 

“No you were perfect.” he blurted out cutting you off, “I never stopped loving you. Can’t we just, start over?” desperation was an understatement to describe him, god he was a pleading mess. 

You could practically hear your own heart-shattering. “I never stopped loving you either Hoonie. But you’re drunk right now, let’s just talk about this in the morning ‘kay?” 

“Okay but, can I please sleep here?” 

No, he shouldn’t. “Sure hoon”

Sunghoon made his way to the top of your bed, arm reaching out signalling you to come over. A signal you regretfully accepted. You nested yourself between his arms, breathing in his cologne while his chin rested on the top of your head. You hated this, fuck you hated how natural this felt. You hated how easily you could melt into his touch, his words, his scent. You hated how badly you loved it. 

“I love you, my YN” his breath slightly hitched before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

You tried ignoring the lump in your throat but it was no use, the next words that came out of your mouth were swallowed with sniffles and quiet sobs “I love you too hoonie”

Maybe in another universe, you two could’ve talked everything out. Maybe you two could have reconciled and lived happily together again. Maybe the 4 years of dating didn’t disappear in one night. Maybe you two could’ve gotten married like he said. Maybe you lived in a nice 2-bedroom house in the countryside, dogs running around the yard whilst you both basked in the sunlight. Maybe you would have actually had the child you fantasised about. 

Maybe, just maybe, Sunghoon would’ve been there when you woke up the next morning.

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Beyond 7 Minutes in Heaven [Sunghoon.]

Abstract: 7 minutes in heaven with Sunghoon except within the 7 minutes nothing happened. Then when it was time to go out, you two found yourselves locked and things started to go awry.

“Not funny guys,” you exclaimed as the panic was beginning to set in. You can hear the boys, at the other side of the door, making a ruckus, accusing each other as being the last one to have held or saw the key. Amidst all the cacophony of noise, you can also hear what sounded like Jay and Ni-Ki giggling mischievously at your predicament. Knowing their track record at mischiefs, you won’t even be surprised if this had been planned by those two all along.

It was the end of the Fall Semester and as per usual tradition, the boys from Block E at your student hall decided to throw a party. Normally, you would have avoided parties like a plague but it was your final year in university so you decided to stray out of habit and be socially adventurous for once. You weren’t exactly strangers with the boys either — in fact, you were close with Sunghoon and Jay, both of whom were in your Economics module, thanks to your lecturer putting you guys in a study group for one whole semester together.

As expected, Jay had invited almost the entirety of campus to the party and not even an hour into the party, you can already feel your head spinning from the bedlam of noises. Just as luck would have had it though, as you were about to quietly slip out of the party, Jay got a hold of you, roping you suddenly into a game of Truth or Dare, promising that he would let you go if the bottle does not land on you during the first three spins. You begrudgingly agreed, thinking that in a crowd of around 30 people, the odds are pretty slim and indeed it was, as the third spin landed on Sunghoon. You remember heaving a huge sigh of relief and was just ready to just dash off from the crowd, when suddenly in some sort of cruel twist of fate, the dare that Ni-Ki, the mischievous and youngest one from the group, threw to Sunghoon was a ‘7 Minutes in Heaven’ with you. Yes, of all the people there, he chose you.

That was how you ended up stuck in a small closet with the campus heartthrob at 12AM on a Saturday night — and if that, in itself, was not preposterous enough, the boys also somehow lost the key to the closet, effectively locking you alone with Sunghoon for who knows how long.

“Look who’s got more time to go beyond the first base now,” you hear Jay shriek from the other side of the door, followed by the sound of, possibly, his arm getting smacked by Jungwon, the voice of reason of the group, “Don’t worry guys, the keys should still be in the living room somewhere — it can’t just disappear into the thin air,” Jungwon added, trying to inject some sort of calm amidst the chaos, “Otherwise, I’ll just run to the main office down the street to get help from security.”

“Uh no way. In case you forgot, we’re holding a party right now — it’s against the rules. The people in admin would have a field day,” Sunoo protested.

“But we can’t let them just stay in there — they’ll run out of oxygen!” Jake, the saint of the group, bemoaned, “Look, a person’s pulse can increase up to 100 beats per minute or more when they kiss so assuming that they have been making out for the past 7 minutes straight and considering the dimensions of the walk-in closet, that’d mean -“

“Excuse me, we definitely have not been -“ you protested, only to get cut off by Heeseung, “You have a point Jake — well, we can always kick the door open? It’s faster?”

You sighed, turning to Sunghoon beside you, “they’re not listening are they?”

Sunghoon shook his head, “guys, can I just remind you that we have broken the tv and the vacuum cleaner — let’s try to not further taint our reputation alright, we’re just one furniture or appliance away from being labelled the official vandals of the block.”

You can hear the boys agreeing before launching off on another debate of who held the keys last . You sighed again, letting go of the doorknob and rested your forehead on the door, lamenting, “Can this night get any worse….”

“Oh come on, you make it sound like we got ourselves stuck in a bunker,” Sunghoon scoffed as he nonchalantly walked away from the door towards the end of the room to sit atop the base cabinets that lined the walls, “Trust me, Jungwon will get us out, by hook or by crook, whether it is by alarming the security or breaking the door.”

“Aren’t you being too calm about this?” You raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms.

“I’m stuck with my bestfriend — I have no complaints,” he shrugged before beckoning you to join him, “Come on, sit. I know I have prominent canines but I don’t bite.”

You pressed your lips together forming a tight-lipped smile as you nodded, taking a seat atop of the cabinet beside him, “You’re right, I could have been stuck with a total stranger.”

“You think this is like karma getting back at us for not making out for the past 7 minutes?” Sunghoon uttered, his face was so impassive that if you hadn’t known him well, you would’ve thought he was serious.

“If anything, Karma would’ve hit me if I make out with you,” you replied as a matter-of-factly, “in the form of your campus fans that is. I am pretty sure, this would be enough impetus for them to sharpen their pitchforks tonight and burn me at stake tomorrow. Maybe I should submit an anonymous post on the uni’s online page clarifying “dont worry you psychos — nothing happened in the closet. We played Jenga instead.””

Sunghoon sniggered, “as true as that was for the past 7 minutes — now that you said it out loud, it sounds like a lie you’d tell your parents when you’re caught quietly slipping back into your home at 5AM after a date.”

“I can tell you must’ve used that excuse a lot,” you replied sarcastically, elbowing him gently.

“Oh definitely not me,” Sunghoon smirked as he leaned closer to your ears, whispering, “The girls I send home at 5AM do.”

“Ugh, gross,” you grimaced, lightly kicking his foot, “What happened to the modest and shy Park Sunghoon that befriended me from 2 years ago?”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, kicking your foot back gently, "the only girl I’ve sent home at 5AM is you ‘cause you insisted on staying at the library until the wee hours.”Despite being knackered from his evening ice skating practices, Sunghoon would always stop by the library if he knows you’re staying in there until late. Most of the time he would join you but instead of studying, he just sleeps, waking up only once you’re starting to pack up as if he came just to make sure you’d have someone to walk you home. In fact, Sunghoon was pretty adamant at committing this particular selfless yet unnecessary act that you ended up stopping your overnight library stays just so that he can get enough sleep. “At this rate, you two might as well date,” is what Jay would often say — not that you two ever dared to entertain that possibility though.

“Really? For a campus heartthrob, that sounds very sad,” you quipped, “You should really get your priorities straight. Get a girlfriend or something — with the amount of girls lining up for you, you can just pick and choose.”

“I know right,” he murmured, “that’s probably why people keep on thinking we’re actually together ‘cause you’re the only girl I spend an inordinate amount of time with.”

“And now we are also stuck in a closet together — it’s like adding oil to the fire. I will definitely be burnt at stake tomorrow.”

“Oh come on,” he wrapped an arm over your shoulder, “Aside from the obvious fact that you’re stuck with the campus heartthrob, which is an opportunity millions would kill for, you’re also stuck with your bestfriend — am I not the ideal candidate to be stuck with compared to others, say Jay or Jake or Heeseung?”

“They’re not so bad. Jay’s fun to be with, Jake’s a saint and Heeseung is well-mannered, I don’t see why-“

“I meant,” he interjected, “if you’re stuck with them, you’d definitely be in a 7 minutes in heaven, or hell, situation alright. I mean, Jay’s a daredevil, he wouldn’t even hesitate; Jake’s a massive flirt and Heeseung, well, the guy is smooth as heck with a lot of experience, he’ll definitely —“

“Eww, Sunghoon what the heck,” you shoved him away, “Right, now that you say it — you’re definitely the best candidate as you’re probably like the tamest or something.”

“I’m sure that was meant to be a compliment but I feel slightly offended,” he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“Oh - by the way, speaking of Heeseung, I've told you that we’re in a group together for Mathematical Analysis Right?” you tapped his arm excitedly, “Well, we ended up scoring the highest for the group project and ever since then people have been calling us the 'Dream Team'!"

Always so supportive, Sunghoon beamed, “Really? Well, I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

"I mean, to understand how miraculous this is you need to know that we have never been friendly with one another. In fact, I've always felt that he hated me since he's very competitive and I was amongst the top scorers in class — well, the feeling was mutual I guess, I didn’t like him much either. Not when he seem to always be out for blood, mine specifically, whenever it’s exam time anyway,” you continued jabbering excitedly, oblivious of Sunghoon’s faltering expressions, “But hey, we ended up working so well together. In fact, we did not just work well together but we hit it off well too, which again, takes me by surprise.”

By right, Sunghoon thought he should have been happy since two of his best friends got along well but somehow, the more you talk about him, the more unsettled he felt. It was the exact same feeling that dawned on him whenever he heard Heeseung sung praises about you. Except, this time, now that he hears it from you like some sort of reciprocity, it somehow stung, “You’re not developing a crush on him are you?”

“I- what- of course not,” you stared at him incredulously, “He is, objectively speaking, almost immaculate in every aspect though. The looks, the grades, the skills — it’s basically ridiculous. I would’ve thought he would have a bad personality because you know, humans are supposed to have a flaw but welp, boy’s also kind and caring —“

“You should probably stop hanging out with him,” Sunghoon blurted, “he's popular with girls and he also has a lot of female friends — you’re setting yourself up for a heartbreak.”

“Dude, I told you, I don’t have feelings for him why would I-“

“Okay, but what if he likes you.”

“You said it himself, he has a lot of female friends/acquaintances — they’re all hot too, so I am 100% certain he wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that — you’re bad at picking up romantic cues anyway,” he retorted, remembering all the time Heeseung looked all gleeful whenever he came home from hanging out or studying with you — looking absolutely lovestruck. Sunghoon would know of course, afterall he had lived with him for almost 3 years now — he knows Heeseung don’t just look like that after hanging out with anyone. Not that Sunghoon wanted to tell you all that though.

“Oh that’s rich coming from the so called ‘Ice Prince’ — just so you know the nickname is not just meant to describe your ice-skating prowess or your beauty, it’s meant to also describe how seemingly aromantic you are,” you countered.

“Wait, me? aromantic?” He scoffed, looking slightly offended.

“I mean you never really respond to anyone’s advances nor did it seem like you care — I guess that’s how you acquired the reputation,” you shrugged. Noticing his cold expressions, you backpedaled, thinking maybe you had gotten too far, “I mean, that’s not bad. Life does not revolve around romance and look at us now — we’re not all up in each other — ” you stopped yourself, feeling suddenly awkward.

“In each other’s what?” Sunghoon muttered.

“It doesn’t m—“

“In each other’s face?” He cut you off sharply as he hopped off the cabinets. With an unchanging expression, he turned towards you, lowering himself as he placed both hands against the edge of the cabinet, on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, slightly taken aback, “Dude, what the heck?”

“If I was aromantic like you said, nothing would happen right? So what are you afraid of?” He smirked, “What now? I thought you have ice in your veins. Are you suddenly feeling shy?”

“Shy? More like you’re taking my share of oxygen by being so close,” you argued, “Also, if the boys come in, they’d misunderstand.”

“It’s a 7 minutes in heaven, it’s well within the context,” he replied curtly, the grin gradually fading as his gaze, usually gentle and adoring, darkened with such intensity never-before-seen that it was beginning to fill you with trepidation.

You can feel your heart beginning to pick up pace — perhaps, it was the Oxygen in the room really depleting; perhaps the dimmed lighting was beginning to make you feel increasingly claustrophobic or perhaps, as much as you wanted to deny it, it was because of Sunghoon. While this was not the first time you had been this close to him, his proximity to you tonight felt almost as if you’re onboard of a ship that is about to crash onto an iceberg.

Prone to being over-analytical and overly strategic at times — a pitfall for social situations as Jay always say — you often are able to figure most people out and stay 2 steps ahead of them. This includes Sunghoon. He is afterall an epitome of structure and security which means, for someone like you, he’s predictable most of the time. Yet that night, your mind was going into overdrive trying to ponder what exactly the usually predictable Sunghoon was trying to do. As Sunghoon is highly pragmatic and nonexperimental with a preference tending towards familiarity and stability, you know Sunghoon would never just kiss someone just for the sake of it as he would take the ramifications of a kiss seriously. And with a best friend, the ramifications spill far greater for the overthinker to bear.

In fact, whenever someone asks him as to why he does not date around despite his popularity, he always maintainted that regardless of how he feels, he’d never act on it unless he is certain that the other party feels the same way and is in it for the long run rather than just for the thrill or heat of the moment. You call it risk-averse, he calls it being risk-smart, only engaging in calculated risks.

Yet, despite all the arguments you conjure up in your head to convince yourself that he was just messing around, his actions as well as the cold and steely gaze that was increasingly unnerving you, screamed otherwise. That said, you thought, if you overreact and it turns out he was indeed messing around, he would use it as some sort of bragging rights from here onwards for having successfully made you be all flustered. No way I’ll let him have that, you thought to yourself, two can play the game.

Little did you know, Sunghoon too was in shambles inside. He knew this feeling: the magnetic pull that he sometimes get when he stares too long and too deeply into your eyes followed by the fluttery sensation in his stomach and the hammering in his chest. Yet, every other time it dawned on him, his pragmatism and risk-aversion will always pull him back to reality. But that night, something seemed to have set him off: he didn’t know what it was, was it the context that was increasingly lulling him; was it the way you talk about Heeseung earlier; was it the way you look up at him and the way your hands brushed against his earlier; was it because you just called him the ‘tamest’ compared to the rest? Who knows. All that he knew for certain right at that moment was that his grips were tightening as if he was trying to grasp at every last piece of reason that is left in him to stop himself from acting so rashly. Suddenly, Jake’s words from a few weeks ago came to his mind.

“Dude, you got it bad,” Jake shook his head dismissively, “Sooner or later you’d have to face your feelings okay. Sitting on it will only make it fester, increasing the risks of it blowing up in uglier ways in the future.”

“We’re just best friends — it’s platonic,” Sunghoon maintained, for the umpteenth time.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Jake raised his eyebrows before shrugging, “whatever, it’s your life. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you okay.”

Without realizing, he had begun to slowly lean in, his eyes glued onto your eyes as if under some kind of hypnosis before lingering onto your lips. As much as you wanted to stay unperturbed, the increasing proximity was unnerving you that you backed away at the same pace, “You’re not.. drunk are you?”

He finally stopped, his eyes darted back to yours, threatening to bore holes, “as sober as ever.”

And with that, as if a thread has been snapped, he had leaned in completely — his lips now colliding with yours. You froze — unable to immediately register the sudden turn of events. The next thing you knew, he had wrapped his hand across the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, while the other arm snaked across your back, pulling you close towards him and closing whatever small gap there was between you two.

As the air begin to feel tighter, the realization then begin to dawn and in that instant, you used all your strength to push him and tear yourself away from his grasps. For a moment you two just stared each other — dazed and breathless.

“Park Sunghoon, if that was your idea of messing around — you had definitely gone overboard,” you muttered, staring at him in disbelief.

Sunghoon scoffed, “You think that was just me being mischievous? Have you ev—”

Just then you hear the door click, “Thank God, you guys are fine!” Jake cried out of relief as soon as he saw you guys, “We’ve been knocking for the past few minutes and you guys weren’t answering, thought you guys fainted or something!”

“Wait what hell is this Jenga doing here?” Jay, who followed closely behind Jake, grumbled, pointing at the colourful Jenga blocks in the middle of the room — the one you and Sunghoon used to kill time earlier, “Don’t tell me this is what you two were playing with instead of making out?!”

You forced a chuckle, hoping that would have masked the panic that was rising within you, as you proceeded to lie, “Duh obviously. You guys put two of the most aromantic people in the party together, what did you expect?”

“Wow, I’m disappointed in both of you,” Jay shook his head in dismay, “but whatever, two bestfriends kissing each other would’ve meant messy business so—”

“You look flushed y/n, you okay?” Jungwon asked, lowering his head to get a clearer look at you, “I guess it must’ve been hot in here. Let’s go out. Sorry about earlier, apparent someone wa —” he continued to ramble while you just nodded and smiled — pretending you were attentively listening when truthfully, nothing was registering for your mind was in such a state of disarray. You did not even dare to look back at Sunghoon, not at that moment at least.

“Hey buddy come on,” Jake called out to Sunghoon who seemed to be rooted on spot, his eyes glued at the remnants of the collapsed Jenga tower. “That’s funny,” Sunghoon muttered to himself quietly as he thought just how perfectly the sight of the collapsed tower seemed to mirror the state of your friendship with him that night.

____________________________

Author's note: I know, I know — it’s a cliffhanger hahah. Do you guys think this warrants a part 2? or is it best left hanging, because yknow, life is usually like that hahah anyways this was actually the first ever draft I’ve ever made that is Enhypen-related and somehow this was also the one that took the longest to finish, I was just never satisfied with it. But anyways, I digress, I hope you guys like this :3 my ask box is open if anyone would like to drop me some love or request hehe! (ps. click me if you wish to visit my masterlist )

⌗ sunny days ﹙ sim jaeyun ﹚

sum : jake is hopelessly in love with you. he tells himself he’ll never be able to tell you. but that changes when he finds out you feel the same way. so now, finally, he’ll be able to take you on a beautiful first date that he’s always dreamed of.

includes : jake x reader, mutual pining, jake is down bad and nervous, 2k words, tooth rotting fluff, small comedy, Heeseung and Sunghoon cameo

It was a sunny day outside, the prominence of spring being in full effect during this time of year.

Jake loved spring, he loved the smell of the flowers, and how nature just looked so lively. But what made his spring perfect this year was you.

You reminded him just of it. Your beauty, the equivalent of a freshly picked flower. The kind that he’d see when he would walk past a small flower shop. The sun couldn’t even compare to how bright you were when you’d smile.

It was weird, how you had such an impact on him, and never once have you guys spoken. He would envy his friends for having a steady friendship with you.

It was even weirder that Jake was infatuated with you, given that you guys had never interacted. But that’s just the effect you had on him.

Jake was like his favorite season, spring.

And like a flower, his love blossomed.

Jake sat in class, his most boring class of all, English. All the professor would do was talk and talk, he couldn’t blame the many kids who fell asleep during it, it was a morning class anyways. His chin is resting on his palm, swinging his pencil in his hand. Until he can hear small sorry’s and excuse me’s.

“Hey is it okay if I sit here?” Jake turns to the culprit and freezes.

It’s you.

Your hair is in a messy bun, and you quite literally look like you just woke up. He’s dumbfounded that you uttered words to him. You stand there awkwardly as students begin to stare at you for blocking the board. He finally snaps out of it, a small blush on his face.

“Yea! Yea of course.” He says muttered out. You whisper a thank you, setting your stuff out and getting your laptop out. That is of course until you notice it’s dead. Nice.

You groan, you didn’t even bring your bag with you. So, feeling a little ashamed you turn to him, tapping his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, do you have a piece of paper I can borrow.” Your lip is pulled between your teeth and Jake can’t help but think you look so cute. He blinks, malfunctioning once again.

“Um, yeah, here.” He hands it to you and your hand grazes his, immediately making his heart beat faster than it already was. Jake needed to calm down, he wasn’t a teenager anymore, so he needed to stop acting like it.

“Thank you.” You whisper again, leaning in so your guy's shoulders brush one another. Jake doesn’t know what comes over him but he’s whispering back.

“I’m Jake.” And you giggle, covering your smile.

“I know.” His head snaps towards you, blinking once again. Okay, maybe the teenage puppy love antics could wait because oh my god you knew his name?

“I’m Y/n.” You look up at him, and his eyes soften.

He lets out a small laugh, “I know.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon sigh for the umpteenth time after Jake mentions your guy's little interaction.

“Dude she knew my name! She knows who I am!” Jake was thrilled, his cute toothy smile on full display.

“You told us a million times we get it.” Heeseung sighs, and Jake pouts.

“You guys don’t understand.” He sulks, recalling your cute giggle.

"Ask for her number or something. Stop being a pussy." Jake's jaw drops, slowly turning to his friends.

"I can't just ask for it, what if she thinks I'm weird." He bites his lip feeling nervous at the mere thought of it.

"I think you're just overthinking it. You're a hot dude, why would she say no to you." Heeseung says with a wiggle of his brows.

"Relax he's not as hot as me." Sunghoon rolls his eyes and both boys deadpanning.

The next time you have English, you scout the room for Jake. Finding him sat in a corner you pull the seat next to him. Once again Jake is awestruck but he recovers quickly this time.

"Hi." You whisper and he smiles.

"Hi." He whispers back.

He notices you have a bag this time and you move to grab something. You pull out a piece of paper, sliding it to him.

"Thanks for letting me borrow a piece of paper." You mumble and he's amused, his toothy smile making an appearance, causing yours to widen.

"You didn't have to give me one back." He looks at you and you swear your heart skips a beat.

"Just returning the favor." You twiddle with your fingers. Jake smiles at your antics and you both go back to paying attention to the lecture.

However he's distracted, Heeseung’s words plaguing his mind. "Just ask for her number."

This might've been the stupidest thing he's ever done before, not even his high school self pulled a stunt like this.

With the piece of paper you handed him, he's scribbling on it, his hand a little shaky. When he's done he hands it back to you, you look at him but he's already looking back at the board, messing with his lip. You grab the folded paper and open it up.

It read, "I was wondering (small doodle) if I could have your number?" Then right below it, a yes with a happy face and a box. Then a no with a terrible drawing of someone crying and a box next to it.

You stare at it with pure amusement, never in your years of living have you received, something like this. Yes, boys have asked for your number but it'd always be upfront or through other people, so you'd be lying if you thought it wasn't cheesy. But it was also cute and you liked cute things, especially Jake.

You can’t help but giggle, and it makes Jake sweat. You tap on him and he slowly turns, you motion for his phone and he stares at you, not one thought in his head.

“Jake?” He wasn’t even standing up but he could feel himself lose feeling in his legs. He snaps out of it and shakily hands you his phone.

You quickly type in your number, clicking on the photo, and you take a silly picture, making Jake smile from his seat. You hand it back to him and just like that, your lecture is over.

“Text me yeah? Make sure you tell me it’s you.” You smile at him, grabbing your belongings, and making sure to tuck the small paper in your bag. Jake nods mumbling an uh huh and you smile at his dumbfounded face.

It had been a week since you gave him your number. Jake bursts through the doors of the cafeteria, jogging to his friends. Sunghoon and Heeseung share a look and focus their attention back on Jake.

“I did it! I actually did it!” He fistbumps the sky, smiling brightly.

“Did what?” Sunghoon says, munching on his sandwich.

“I got her number.” He almost chokes mid bite, the both of them snapping their head at him.

“You did?!” They yelled in unison. Jake happily nods, ignoring the lame way he asked for it.

“See what did I tell you!” Heeseung slaps his back but Sunghoon looks behind them, smirking.

“Hey Y/n.” He waves and Jake freezes, eyes wide as he stares at Heeseung. Heeseung jerks his head towards you but Jake shakes his head.

“Oh, hey guys! What ya up to?” You smile, waving back. Sunghoon gets up grabbing his things.

“Oh nothing much actually, Jake was just telling us how he was gonna ask you out on a date.” Jake could he feel his soul leave his body and of course, Heeseung plays along.

“Yea, see you later.”

Jake stares dumbfounded at his friends as they walk away. He turns slowly to face you and you look shocked, blinking up at him. He gulps, planning out different ways in his mind how he was gonna make his friends pay.

“You were gonna ask me what now?” You say a small smirk grazing your lips.

Jake lets out a nervous laugh, “O-Oh uh, I don’t know what they were talking about, they’re weird aren’t they? Hey, I’ll text you later okay?-” He says rushed out trying to walk away but your words stop him.

“Aw that sucks, so you weren’t gonna ask me?” Your doe eyes looking up at him do nothing but make him more nervous.

“Well I mean, is that okay?” He nervously says, biting his lip.

“I’d love to.” You smile and he buffers.

“A-Actually?” You giggle.

“Yes actually, text me okay? I gotta head to class.” You say with a small wave walking away.

Although he scored a date with you, it was now time to brainstorm the most perfect date for you.

In all honesty, Jake was stressed. You guys had been texting back and forth and he couldn’t have been more happy. He did end up telling Heeseung and Sunghoon how much he hated them for doing that to him, but also how much he loved them because now he had a date with you.

Bipolar much?

Back to his plan, it wouldn’t be bad for a little walk in the park, right? He was planning to take you to the spot his friends would visit all the time during the spring. However, this time he’d take you instead. Even if it was a first date, this place held a special place in his heart, you didn’t have to know that but he’d love to share it with you.

He doesn’t spoil things too much, only telling you to wear something summery and comfortable.

When he picks you up, he stares at you for a good minute not saying anything. You were wearing a white flowy dress, the more you looked at him the more you could see his eyes sparkle.

“Jake?”

He whispers a sorry, leading you to his car and opening the door for you. As he begins to drive he mumbles.

“You look really pretty.” Drumming his fingers along the steering wheel.

“Thank you, now wanna tell me where you’re taking me.”

He glances at you and shakes his head, turning up the music. You stare at him amused, rolling your eyes playfully you left it at that. The drive was a little far but the view was amazing.

“We’re here, you don’t mind walking a bit right?” He says almost a little nervous. You shake your head and he smiles brightly, you noticed that small things made Jake happy and it is adorable.

He quickly grabs the basket, opening the door for you again. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. You stare at him and his hand.

“You know so you won’t get hurt?” He awkwardly laughs and you intertwine your hands with him.

As you both walked, Jake talked. It gave you time to observe him, how his lips were softly pointed at the ends, and how expressive he was when he talked. Moved his hand that was intertwined with yours and the other with the basket. He stops abruptly, giving him a confused look you’re about to say something but he beats you to it.

“Do you trust me?” He says, his cute smile in full display.

“No.” You say and he immediately pouts. “I’m joking.” You giggle and he sulks.

“You’re mean, but I’m gonna cover your eyes okay?” You nod and he gently covers your eyes, the other on the small of your back to guide you carefully.

“Ok, you can open your eyes.” He says softly and you gasp at the sight before you.

It’s a field of flowers, a small hill with a huge cherry blossom tree not too far from you guys. You can faintly see a blanket on the grass.

“Oh my god.” You breathe out. It was beautiful but before you could actually bask in the whole view, Jake is nudging you.

“Last one up the hill is a loser.” He takes off in a sprint and you yell for him.

“Jake!” You don’t say anything else chasing after him. You can hear his laugh in the distance as you both run through the flower field, smiles on both of your faces.

“Looks like you’re the loser.” He laughs, catching his breath.

“You cheated.” You say in the same state as well. You both sit down and he pulls out drinks, pouring one for you.

“This place is honestly beautiful Jake. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” You gush, playing with the glass. He mentally cheers, turning to you with a small smile.

“This place uh, reminds me a lot of you.” He whispers and you gaze at him curiously.

“Really?” You ask shyly and he nods.

“I know we’ve never really talked but I’ve always admired you from afar, you’re just so beautiful and I know you’re even prettier on the inside.” He smiles and your brows pull together.

With his heart full of you and love in the air, he confesses. “S-Sorry if that’s a lot to take in but uh, I like you a lot.” He fiddles with his lip. He’s unsure of your silence but when he looks up you’re fondly smiling at him.

The birds chirped above you, small petals falling around the both of you. Jake truly was in love, and being with you right here and now was all he needed to see to fully know he wanted you as his.

Before any doubtful words can come out of Jake’s mouth you peck his cheek, reckoning him still.

“I like you too Jake.”

wte masterlist

tagging : @sweet-kisses-and-bloody-screams

© 2023 aakomii — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. REFRAIN FROM PLAGIARIZING, SHARING MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS

Fetish

Rating: 🔞

Summary: Sunghoon likes being in an on again, off again relationship. It's like a game to him. It makes him feel powerful. Especially with a woman so in love with him, that she is willing to come running into his bed whenever he beckons her.

Warnings: SUNGHOON IS A TOTAL DISASTER OF A MANIPULATIVE DOUCHE AT FIRST, SMUT, PETNAMES IE; PRINCESS, BABY, DARLING, ANAL PLAY, SPITTING, ACCIDENTAL PREGNANCY

Notes: this is loosely based on fetish by Selena Gomez. I don't feel like proofreading yall. Please, it's not that serious. Btw this is quite possibly the most toxic thing you'll ever read lol but I just gotta get it outta my brain

Power.

It was addicting. Enchanting. She gave herself over to him without so much as a second thought. Released every coherent thought from her mind to give him her full submission. She trusted him, too much perhaps, with her body. Her love, her heart. No matter how many times he pushed her away, she always came crawling back to him, desperately in love. Ready to do any and everything to please him.

"Take it or leave it. Baby, take it or leave it. But I know you won't leave it. 'Cause I know that you need it..."

He sickened himself with the way he'd mock her.

"Back already, Doll? Can't get enough, can you? It's been how long? Two days? That's a new record. Are you that obsessed with my dick?"

Sunghoon hated himself sometimes. Because despite his actions, he really did love her. But this cat and mouse game, this torture he put her through, had become almost a form of foreplay to him. He reveled in the way she cried and begged him to come back to her. The way she fell completely apart in his absence. The longing for him in her eyes when he returned. She'd sit obediently at his feet. Naked, wet, and begging for his attention. His affection. Anything. His trapped little mouse.

His love was consuming. Unique. An experience that she knew no one else could give her. It felt like ecstasy shooting through her veins and like a noose tightening around her neck. Like warm rays of sunshine and cold, dark, thunderous clouds. She knew she could never live without it. But she also knew that love shouldn't feel like this. She tried to have more respect for herself. She needed it, actually. Especially given the news she had just discovered this morning... She tried to leave. But she could never seem to stay away. She found herself pondering over this very fact as she lay in his bed, listening to the harsh droplets of rain beating against the window.

"Come here, baby. You were gone a whole week this time. I missed you." He nuzzled his face into the crook of her bare neck, giddy with the elation of having fucked her into oblivion for his own selfish satisfaction. She was almost able to convince herself that this was a normal and healthy relationship.

"Don't wait so long next time."

Next time.

Next. Fucking. Time.

She knew what that meant. It meant he'd get bored within the next week or two and tell her it was over once again. It meant that he'd leave her there, her heart bleeding out from his emotional torment while he disappeared completely unscathed. Only to return with a pretty smile and a hard dick, enough to make her forget all of the pain he put her through.

Something snapped inside of her.

She promptly sat up, untangling herself from within his long limbs. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, bristling when she felt the length of his finger trailing down the curve of her spine.

"Oh? Have I struck a nerve, darling?" That damned condescending tone. She could hear the grin in his voice.

"There won't be a next time, Sunghoon. This is it. I'm done. I get to leave this time," She tried to keep her tone even and stern. She knew that if he heard even an inkling of wavering, he'd overpower her, turn this whole thing around and have her begging for him like the pathetic slut he made her.

She was taking his power away. Protecting her sanity and mental well-being had never been as important as it was now. He was equal parts amused and alarmed internally. Since when did she get to change the rules of the game?

"Then go."

He knew she wouldn't. Couldn't. Calling her bluff seemed like a smart idea at first. After all, they both knew how desperate she was for him. He didn't think he could lose, but as she stood up and began gathering her clothes, his hands began to shake. Could it be that he had finally pushed her just a bit too far?

"It's late, darling." She frustratedly tugged her sweatpants on, hopping on one foot as she jammed her socks on as well. "And raining. You're terrible at driving in the rain." Why was it so hard for him to ask her to stay?

"Like you care," She scoffed to herself.

She decided to forgo the bra, yanking his her hoodie over her head and storming out the room without as much as a goodbye. She was doing everything in her power to convince herself that this was it. That she didn't need him anymore. He tugged on his briefs and followed behind at a lazy pace, resting his forearms over the railing as he watched her from the top of the staircase.

He watched as she yanked his door open, heart pounding, as he anticipated her next move. She stood, seemingly frozen for what felt like an eternity. A depraved smile spread across his face as she slowly shut the door, unable to even cross the threshold. Her head thudded softly against the door as her frame shook from quiet sobs.

"I'm not surprised. I sympathize. I can't deny, your appetite. You got a fetish for my love. I push you out and you come right back..."

Just as he suspected, she was too weak, too in love, too powerless to leave. He hated how much he loved this. He took his time descending the stairs.

"I thought you said you were leaving? Change your mind?"

"Why?" She hiccuped. "Why can't you just love me the way I love you?" And why was she so weak for him? This was not the time to fall for his charms again. Life was forcing her to make a choice. But maybe she could have just one more night....

"I do love you, Darling-"

"You don't! All you do is leave me. And push me away. All the time. I have no idea where you go the majority of the time. Or who you're with. You could be out fucking who knows how many other women. And I'm just the only one dumb enough to keep crawling back to you. I'm such a fucking idiot." The feeling of his lips pressing gentle kisses into her neck made the hot tears roll down her cheeks more profusely.

"I don't appreciate you suggesting that I'm out fucking other women. Because I'm not. And you know I'm not. And again, if you're so unhappy with what I do, then leave."

"You know I can't, Sunghoon," She whimpered feeling absolutely pathetic.

"And why not? I want to hear you say it."

"Because. No matter how bad this hurts, I love you too fucking much to leave you."

"That's right, baby. Cause you love me too fuckin' much."

"Reaching your limit. Say you're reaching your limit. Going over your limit, but I know you can't quit it..."

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his long fingers hook into the waistband of her sweatpants. He eased them down her legs, along with her panties. He gripped a handful of her fat ass, before spanking her harshly.

"Get your pretty ass back up those stairs." She sniffled and wiped her tears before turning to walk back up the stairs.

"No, sweetheart. I want you to crawl for me."

That shit eating grin on his face made her want to kill him and marry him at the same time. Nevertheless, she maintained eye contact with him as she sunk to her knees and began crawling. It was degrading and humiliating and it was making her tight little cunt uncomfortably wet. She could feel his gaze on her as she crawled up the steps, his eyes drinking in her clenching anal passage and the small, gushy hole of her pussy.

"What a good girl. Crawling for me. With your pretty little holes on display, just waiting for me to use them. You look so fucking pretty, Doll." His cock twitched when he saw the way she was clenching and tightening in excitement. It felt like it took ages for them to reenter his bedroom.

"Up. Up on the bed." She scrambled to comply, lying flat on her back and spreading her legs wide for him to settle in between. But he didn't. Instead he sauntered away into his closet, only to return with three small boxes.

"What do you say.....we try something new tonight, my darling love, huh?"

"What's that?"

"Toys," The wolfish grin on his face meant trouble.

"What kind of toys?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Safe word?"

"Red."

"Good," Before she could ask any further questions he was opening up the first box and pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

He had restrained her plenty of times, so she barely raised a brow at the sight of the cuffs. He tossed the box to the side, hovering over her and raising her arms above her head. He tugged her hoodie off, leaving her naked beneath him, a familiar and welcome position for him. He intertwined their fingers, leaning down to rub his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss. He leaned back half an inch, staring deep into her eyes. For a split second she thought she could see the same love she had for him reflecting back at her in his gaze. The clinking of the cuffs closing around her wrists brought her back to reality. He placed a single chaste kiss to her lips before continuing to kiss down, stopping at her neck.

"You know, sweetheart, I really do love you." He was pressing open mouth kisses along the length of her neck, stopping when he got to that one spot that made her shiver.

"I don't want you to ever feel like I don't. Because I do. I just happen to also really enjoy our little game." His lips closed around her sensitive spot, nipping and biting to form a bruise.

He pulled back with a wet pop, continuing his trail of kisses to her chest. He took in a nipple, softly suckling, just the way she liked it as he looked up at her. Brows furrowed and lips set in a perpetual pout, she was so fucking cute it made Sunghoon sick that he had ever hurt her.

"You're so fucking cute. Spread your legs, baby. Wanna play with you." He mumbled around her tit.

She complied, the sticky wet lips of her cunt flowering open as she spread her legs wide. His fingers danced down her abdomen, causing an eruption of involuntary giggles to bubble out of her, and Sunghoon found that her giggles sounded way sweeter to his ears than her sobs. The cold tips of his fingers ghosted over the place she needed him to touch most, her aching, slick covered clit.

"Look at me, my love. I want you to watch me while I pleasure you." Her eyes were still teary when they met his.

He watched as they went hazy and unfocused, her entire body shuddering as he dragged his fingers teasingly up and down the length of her gash. Sunghoon could feel her excitement dripping down his fingers, gathering and spilling out of his palm as he pushed his middle and ring fingers into her pussy. She instinctively clenched around his digits, a whimper escaping her as she felt his fingers crook, massaging her g-spot.

"I have to tell you, honey... I don't take too kindly to you threatening to leave me," She gulped in a mixture of nerves, excitement, and anticipation.

"Let's be honest here," He continued, "You and I both know that I'm it for you."

"I mean... do you really think you'll ever be able to find another man who can touch you like this?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his fingers were abusing her g-spot like never before.

"Something about me got you hooked on my body. Take you over and under and twisted up like origami..."

She wanted to reply. To give him an attitude - no, to give him hell, but the way he was curving his fingers within her core made her brain go foggy. A funny feeling was quickly beginning to bubble up in her stomach. Like butterflies and warm kisses and also a bit like needing to pee. She opened her mouth to warm him, but all that came out was a helpless squeak. The feeling was mounting within her, overwhelming and intense. She wanted to reach out for him, to hold him as she shuddered through what she was sure was about to be a very wet orgasm only to be reminded of the cuffs around her wrist. It was all happening too quickly for her to process, her eyes falling shut and a desperate moan escaping her as he touched her with an expertise that only he possessed.

"I said look at me, slut. You're gonna watch me make this pathetic fucking pussy squirt. You're gonna cum for me again, and again, and again. And you're never gonna threaten to fucking leave me ever again. Because nobody can make you feel as good as I do."

Sunghoon's ego inflated ten fold when he felt her cunt lock tight around his fingers. His chest swelled with pride at the sight of her eyes rolling back, pussy squirting a glimmering arch of clear juices as she screamed in euphoria. He brought his other hand up to toy with her spasming clit, chuckling to himself as it made her squirt another small stream. She was shaking like a leaf, desperately closing her thighs in hopes of getting him to stop overstimulating her.

"N-no! No more, baby, please," She gasped.

"Oh, Sweetheart. We're nowhere near stopping."

He pulled his sopping fingers out of her cunt, smearing her juices across her face before forcing his fingers past her lips.

"Suck."

She complied immediately, taking his long pale fingers into the back of her throat and suckling sloppily. The sight of her plump lips wrapped around his fingers made his dick twitch, a moan escaping him as he pushed deeper into her throat.

"You gonna gag for me, pretty girl? You know how much I fucking love it when you gag," She did exactly that, throat contacting around his digits as her mouth filled with saliva.

"Mmm, just like that. Who's my good girl, baby?" His deep baritone demanded an answer.

"Me," She garbled out around his fingers, drool dripping from the side of her mouth. "I'm your good girl."

She felt a fresh wave of juices oozing out of her as he sensually slid his fingers out from her lips.

"Now that you've got my fingers good and wet, I can prep that pretty little asshole for our next toy." Her eyes grew wide at that. Sunghoon grabbed the second white box, opening it to reveal an anal plug with a cute, pink, heart-shaped crystal on the end.

"What color are we feeling, baby?"

"Y-yellow," She had never been nervous enough to say the safe word before. They had also never explored beyond fingers and the occasional tongue anally.

"Yellow? OK, sweetheart. Tell me what you're thinking. What's going on inside that pretty head?" He set the box aside in favor of soothingly massaging her thighs.

"I guess I'm just nervous."

"It's normal to be nervous when experimenting with new things. But I'd never make you do anything you didn't want to do. We can stop right now and just cuddle if you want. Or we can go slow and see if we like it or not. It's up to you. So, do you want to stop, or do you feel brave enough to try?" There was no judgment in his voice. No disappointment or anger. On the contrary, his gentle tone relaxed her enough to want to try.

"Can we take it slow?"

"Of course we can, Doll. My brave girl," He kissed the inside of her thighs sweetly, his lips lingering against her warm skin. His kisses trailed inwards, eventually landing him at her soft, wet mound.

Now that he knew she was feeling a bit uneasy, he watched her like a hawk for the first sign of discomfort. He placed open mouth kisses against her smooth skin, lips moistening with her sticky juices. He reached a hand up to grip around her waist as his tongue slid down to toy with the hood of her clit. Her hips bucked into his face, still highly sensitive from orgasming twice just moments ago. The scent of her pussy seeped into his nose, making him throb within the confines of his boxers. Her taste quickly spread across each and every one of his taste buds, intoxicating him like an aphrodisiac. He sucked her swollen pink bud into his mouth, groaning as he rolled his tongue over her most sensitive spot repeatedly.

"Fuck, that feels so goood," She moaned out, hips rolling into his mouth.

Whilst she was gyrating and distracted, Sunghoon took the opportunity to push his first digit inside of her winking rim. He pulled back from her clit, spitting a messy wad of saliva onto her bud before slurping it back into his mouth. She was squirming now, head thrown back as she dug her heels into the bed.

"Fuck, please, Sunghoon. Please, baby. I-I need..."

"What do you need, love?"

"Dick." She groaned.

"What an ungrateful little whore," He couldn't hide the grin in his voice. "Here I am. On my fucking knees for you. Eating this fat, juicy little cunt just the way you like... and all you can think about is dick." He didn't miss the way her asshole fluttered around his finger as he degraded her.

"You'll get my dick when I feel you've fucking earned it."

With that said, his second finger pressed inside of her rim to join the first, and he went back to lazily lapping at her quivering bud. At this point, she was so gone that she was attempting to push her asshole further down the length of his fingers, whimpering in need.

"I feel so fucking empty, Sunghoon. Please. Need you to fill me up, baby," She whined breathily, only to be ignored.

The gentle nibbling of his teeth made her withe against his sheets, her thighs closing around his head. With her plush thighs simultaneously plugging and warming his ears, he listened to her muffled sounds, his dick feeling like a steel rod in his briefs as she called out for him over and over in a preorgasmic daze.

"I love you. Love you so fucking much," He murmured into her cunt, removing his fingers and replacing them with the tip of the plug.

Her juices were flowing copiously from her pussy, providing more than enough lube for him to begin easing the toy past her rim. She keened in pleasure, wiggling impatiently until Sunghoon gripped her sternly and held her down still. He returned to sloppily suckling at her clit as the widest part of the plug stretched her tight ass open. He pushed it all the way in, his own hips beginning to buck impatiently into the mattress at the sight of the pink crystal shining enticingly as the plug fully sank into her virgin hole.

"Shit, baby. So fucking sexy." Sunghoon was mesmerized at the sight, blindly reaching for his phone as clear beads of her arousal began to ooze and drip all over her pretty new plug.

"I'm gonna take a picture, baby. Cause this is too fucking pretty to not capture." Tears of desperation and horniness were welling up in her eyes as he spread her cunt open with his fingers to take pictures. The rattling of her cuffs as she absent-mindedly tried to free her hands broke Sunghoon out of his stupor.

"P-please?" This is what Sunghoon lived for. The desperation for him, her willingness to submit herself to him for his pleasure and his pleasure only.

"Have I earned it yet?" Oh, did she.

"I dunno, baby. You think you deserve my cock?" She had more than earned it with her trust and bravery.

"Y-yes?" She thought she might orgasm completely untouched as she watched him push his briefs down his legs and kick them to the side. He crawled back between her legs, her entire body shaking in anticipation of what was to come. He dragged her closer, the bottom of her thighs resting over the top of his as he reached for his third box.

"I think you deserve it too, my love. You've been such a good girl for me, hmm? Such a good girl, thaaaat... I'm gonna give you exactly what you've been begging for."

He leaned over her on his fists, capturing her lips in a toe-curlingly passionate kiss as he teasingly ground his length into her pulsating snatch. She stopped breathing entirely as the wide, pinkish red tip of his dick kissed her entrance. As he pushed in, she heard a small click before a buzzing noise filled her ears. With one thrust, he was bottoming out inside of her and a brand new sensation, of vibration, was surrounding her throbbing clit.

She didn't last two seconds longer.

Her back arched painfully hard, her thighs instinctively closing, which made the sensations of vibration, of Sunghoon stretching out and fucking into her hole, of the anal plug so much more intense. A tortured scream echoed off the walls, followed by pleasure filled sobbing as she writhed and bucked and rolled her hips in tandem with the waves of pleasure. She was dying, he was absolutely killing her with his perfect dick, her cunt squeezing and creaming and gripping his length as she nutted all over him.

"Fuck, yes! Nasty little cunt is fucking milking me so good. Keep creaming on my dick, baby. That shit feels so fucking good. I love you, pretty."

"L...ove.....y.....y-ou," She slurred, dick drunk out of her mind.

"I know you fuckin' do, baby. Love me so fuckin' much, huh? You want to turn around for me, Mama? Let me hit it from the back?"

"Fuck yes!" He never stopped thrusting as he unlocked the cuffs around her wrists, only pulling out long enough to flip her onto her knees and readjust her vibrator before he was pistoning away inside of her again.

The harder he fucked into her, the deeper her back arched, until she was laying on the side of her face, watching him fuck her in the mirror across the room. The sight of her fat little ass boucing and jiggling with each thrust, his throbbing shaft soaked and coated in her gooey cream was straight out of his nastiest fantasies. The pink crystal of her plug was calling out enticingly to him. He gave it an experimental tug, moaning loudly as it made her clench viciously around his dick.

"You like that, don't you, you fucking slut? Like having something up your tight little ass, don't you?" He pulled her plug out, spitting a wad of saliva onto her ass before pushing it back in and fucking her with it.

"Fuuuuuck, Sunghoon! You're gonna make me cum again!" She moaned.

"Go ahead, baby. Cum for me again. Get that pussy nice and fucking wet for me."

He could feel her walls starting to spasm around him again. He watched in awe as the arch in her back deepened impossibly further before she was rolling her hips back to meet his every thrust. With every thrust, he could feel her dripping down his balls, soaking his inner thighs. When he heard her start to whine with the onslaught of an impending orgasm, he turned her vibrator up a setting, moaning as it made her body go rigid. Sunghoon was captivated with the way her entire body froze, unable to do anything except surrender itself to him. He placed a firm hold around her waist, fucking into her with deep, slow strokes as she started to orgasm around him. It nearly knocked the wind out of him when he felt the first wet clench of her walls suckling and swallowing his dick. She was milking him, eyes rolled back in her head, fingers strangling his linens. He couldn't help but observe the way her pussy was convulsing and tightening around his cock, creating a frosty white ring around the base of his cock.

"Thank you," She whimpered brokenly.

"Shit, baby. Pussy looks so pretty cumming on my dick."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmmm. And who does this pretty little pussy belong to, Princess?"

"Pussy is all fucking your's." She was shuddering now, shaking in the aftermath of orgasm.

"Yeah? This pretty little pussy is all fucking mine? Say it again, baby," Sunghoon moaned, head rolling back onto his shoulders.

"My pretty little pussy is all your's."

He groaned in response, pulling out and repositioning her onto her back. He turned the vibrator off, chucking it to the side and bringing her ankles up to rest over his shoulders. He pushed back inside of her heat, overwhelmed by the snug fit. He rested the weight of his body on top of her, wanting to feel as close to her as possible. His deep, slow strokes resumed, stoking the fire burning in the pit of his stomach. No woman had ever showed him euphoria the way she did. And as he rode her sopping cunt, staring deeply into her eyes, he knew he was just as obsessed and in love as she was. A moan slipped out of his mouth, a shiver racking his body as he felt the mushroom head of his cock twitch and leak against her cervix.

"Open your mouth." She complied immediately, his dick stiffening even more if possible as he spat a wad of spit onto her waiting tongue. She swallowed it down, amused at his antics.

"You're so fucking nasty," He smirked.

"You love it."

"I do. I love everything about you..." He trailed off, her eyes getting that dreamy look in them as his thrust became more intense.

"Love the way you feel cumming on my dick. Love your pathetic little moans and cries. Love the way you love me."

"You got a fetish for my love..."

She tangled her manicured fingers through his dark locks, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips as the room echoed with the sounds of their fucking. This was truly Sunghoon's favorite position, not to fuck, but to make love in. She felt so warm and tight and good in this position, and he had been holding out for so long. He could reach the deepest depths of her cunt, his balls aching at the feeling of his tip drooling precum all over her cervix. He could touch her all over, his hands occupying themselves with both a handful of ass and a handful of her bouncing tit. He could lean down and kiss her (or spit in her mouth). But most importantly, he could see her. Stretched out across his bed. So submissive, so good. Just for him, only for him. Letting him take her over and over again. In whatever position he wanted, as many times as he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Because she was his woman.

The thought alone was enough to send him into orbit.

"I'm gonna cum," He grunted. "W-...where?"

"Cum inside me, baby." He laced his fingers through hers, as her other unoccupied hand continued to tug and stroke through his hair.

"Shit. I love you so fucking much."

She couldn't ever recall Sunghoon repeating the phrase this often before. But there was sincerity in his voice. And an urgency, a desperation in his love making that made her feel for once that maybe he did love her the same way she loved him.

She was enthralled as his eyes grew glassy and unfocused, his breathing deepening as pitiful cries escaped his pink lips. And suddenly, his hips began to rut into her shakily, losing any and all sense of rhythm as he impatiently approached his climax. She felt his hard cock pulsating within her before his head dropped forward onto her chest and he whined out in a long, weak moan. Warmth flooded within her as he erupted, his aching, swollen dickhead painting her cervix white with his cum as he shook powerlessly in her arms. She yanked his head back so she could watch his face contort in brain numbing pleasure, his fucked out expression stroking her ego. She ground her hips up into his pelvis, delighted to see his eyes rolling back in his head, mouth falling open in a silent scream of ecstasy in response as he suffered through the peak of his climax. She fucked him through it, gently rocking against him to help him come down from his high.

She stroked a hand up and down his sweaty, shivering back as he panted, limp and exhausted. Laying on her chest made him feel relaxed and lethargic in the aftermath of the single greatest orgasm his body had ever been made to endure. He laid there until he could feel his legs again, shuddering as he pulled out of her. He placed a tender kiss on her lips before walking to the bathroom to get a warm rag to clean her up. When he returned with the rag, he was surprised to see her already up and tugging on her hoodie once again.

"Why are you getting dressed? You didn't even let me clean you up, Pretty."

"Sunghoon. I um... I'm not going to do the whole aftercare thing tonight. I meant what I said earlier. This is it for us. So I'm just gonna leave."

"What are you talking about? Leave for what? Just spend the night with me, babe."

"No, Sunghoon. I can't. This relationship was doomed from the start. And starting right now, I have to move on."

"Is this about what I said earlier? About you not staying away so long next time? Because if that's what's got you so upset, then I'm really sorry. It was a dumb thing to say. But it's hardly worth losing our relationship over." He could feel his pulse staring to race as she calmly stood up and began dressing.

"It's about more than just that, Sunghoon. I'm... it's just time for me to grow up and move on."

"But I love you. You can't just leave me."

"It doesn't feel good, does it?" She couldn't help but snap.

"So this is just you trying to get back at me?"

"No, Sunghoon! Just drop it, and let me leave." She gathered the remainder of her things and headed towards the door only to be stopped by a hand around her wrist.

"No! You say it's time to grow up, so we're going to talk this out. Like adults."

"Sunghoon, just let me-"

"No, you're not fucking leave me."

"Sunghoon-"

"Just stop it, you're not going anywhere!"

"I have to-"

"NO!"

"I'm pregnant! Ok?!"

The only sound in the room was the raindrops hitting the window. The now cold rag slipped from Sunghoon's fingers, hitting the hardwood floor with a wet splat.

"P-pregnant?"

"Yes."

"... For real?"

"Mhmm."

"Like... with a baby?"

"Yes, dumbass." Sunghoon ran a shaky hand through his sex tangled bed head.

"When did you find out?"

"I had a doctor's appointment this morning."

"I missed our baby's first appointment?!"

"No, it was just a regular check-up, and I had some blood work done. That's how they found out that I'm carrying."

"Do you know how far along you are?" His heart was beating so loud he wondered if she could hear it.

"Six weeks."

"...We're having a baby?" He whispered almost as if he was too afraid to say it out loud.

"No, I'm having a baby."

"Fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm pregnant, I'm going to have this baby, and I'm going to raise it. Alone."

"And where the fuck did you get the idea that I'd ever let that happen?"

"Sunghoon, I love you. But you're not dependable. Kids need stability. And I refuse to let my baby see you come in and out of our lives like a revolving door for your entertainment."

"Our baby."

"What are you not understanding?"

"Our. Baby. Whether you like it or not, that baby is just as much mine as it is yours. So you don't get to just cut me out of the picture. I know I haven't been the most... stable. But I'm begging you to give me a chance. Let me prove to you that I can be a father to our baby."

"Sunghoon.... I don't know."

"Please," He pulled her closer to him before slowly letting his hand creep down to caress her stomach.

"Give me a chance. It's not like we aren't in love with each other, or we're strangers or something. It wasn't intentional, but we made this baby together out of love. And he or she deserves to grow up with both parents. Under one roof. As a family."

His eyes were watery with emotion. And again, Sunghoon hated himself for making her feel like she needed to protect herself, to protect his own baby from him. He felt like he was finally being forced to deal with the consequences of his actions.

"I don't want you to be with me out of obligation. Just because I'm pregnant. I want you to be with me because you love me."

"Do you think I'd be begging for a second chance if I didn't love you? Do you think I'd be pleading with you not to leave? You know I love you. And you're carrying my child. That only makes me love you more. Knowing that there's a little piece of me, of us, growing inside of you... I understand why your first instinct was to leave. I know you want to protect our baby. But I promise you, if you give me just one more chance, I'll show you how dependable I can be. I'll stick by your side forever. I promise. I'm gonna mess up. I'll probably say some dumb stuff every now and then. We'll piss each other off and argue occasionally. But I'll never leave you. Neither one of you. Ever again." She had never seen such determination in his eyes. Everything in her was screaming at her to leave. To create distance. To run away before he could.

"Let's just try, baby. Please?" The tears that were shimmering in his eyes began to spill over onto his pale cheeks.

In a flash, she imagined how her life would play out if she said no. It was a safer route to take. Looking at him, though, in this moment, in his bedroom while he fought for his family with tears in his eyes, she knew she couldn't leave.

"Promise? Promise you won't leave us?" As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she could see the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders.

"I promise!"

"....OK, Hoon. Let's just try."

He enveloped her in his arms tightly, molding his lips to hers like he'd never get the chance to do it again. And as he dragged her back to bed, a protective hand resting on her stomach, on their baby, she knew she made the right choice.

Don't kill me yall🫢🫣. I'll go back and edit later. Also the end is kinda blah but its whatevs. Anyways, feedback is appreciated. Toodles 🫡