syno ; you reluctantly arrive to your appointment. you need shots. you're nervous, you hate needles, but why does the doctor’s steady reassurance feel like its becoming something far more intimate?
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you told the receptionist that when you booked the appointment, then told the nurse again when you checked in. it’s written somewhere in your chart now 'mild needle anxiety'; which feels too clean for how your stomach flips just thinking about a syringe.
its oddly quiet here at night. the overhead light hums in the small, boxed in injection room, soft but constant. the walls are a washed out kind of blue, shelves lined with carefully labeled vials, gloves in a box, alcohol pads stacked in their plastic sleeves.
a single chair sits in the middle of the room, it was a sturdy vinyl, armrests wide enough for you to grip. you rather sit with your hands in your lap, fingers tense around your phone.
the door opens.
he steps in. dark hair, white coat open over a fitted black shirt, sleeves pushed up to his forearms. you notice the thin metal tray in his hands; syringe, gauze, tiny bottle. your worst nightmare arranged in the neatest order.
"evening,” he addresses you, pausing to scan your tense posture for a moment. “you’re here for shots today, ma'am?”
you nod, your throat suddenly tight. “uh, yeah. they said three. one in each arm, one in the hip.” his eyes flick down to the chart in his hand, then back to you. up close, his gaze is darker than the void of a sky outside.
"that’s right,” he says. “im dr. park, ill be administering them.”
you swallow. “is it going to… take long?” .... “not really,” he says. “but we don’t have to rush it.” he places the tray down on the counter, metal against laminate. his movements are precise and performed, he's trained. he's a professional for god's sake. you shouldn't be worried. but you are.
he slides the gloves on, tears an alcohol pad open. you nervously watch the vial he had held up to the light as he checked the label.
“have you had injections like this before?” he asks.
“not like this,” you say. “usually just one. not… a set.”
he nods, his expression thoughtful, a practiced look, you think to yourself. “we’ll go one at a time,” he says. “ill start with your left arm. we can see how you handle it and adjust, okay?"
you nod and shift on the chair, vinyl squeaking softly beneath you. he pulls a stool closer, sitting so he’s level with you. he's sitting close enough that the distance feels kind of intentional.
"do you want me to explain every step,” he asks, “or just tell you when it’s happening?”
"just tell me,” you utter, the sound coming out more snappy than you had intended. “don’t… narrate it.”
"alright,” he says, an amused smile. “we’ll keep it simple.”
he reaches for your arm, latex wrapped fingers wrapping around your forearm to pull it gently onto the armrest. you can feel the warmth of his hand through the glove. the contact makes your breath catch louder than you’d like.
“you’re tense,” he notes quietly.
"i told them i hate needles,” you reply.
"i know, sweetheart” he says. “it’s in here.” he taps the chart with two fingers. “doesn’t always look like this, though.” his gaze goes to your hand how tightly your fingers curl and lingers for a moment. "not mild at all." he remarks to himself.
he peels an alcohol pad open, the sharp, sterile scent blooming between you. “im going to clean the area,” he says. “itll be cold for a second.”
you nod. the cotton is cool and wet against your skin, very cold. his other hand steadies your arm. his thumb presses lightly against the inside of your elbow, feeling for something; vein, muscle, probably.
his grip tightens just a slight bit, familiar but focused.
"okay,” he murmurs. “you’re going to feel the needle now.”
you stiffen, your jaw clenching. his hand adjusts slightly, his palm now cradling your forearm, his thumb stroking softly against your skin.
the needle slips in, a sharp sting, suddenly. you inhale sharply, your breath catching. god you hated needles. so much.
“good,” he says, voice low, closer. “almost done.”
he depresses the plunger slowly, watching your face more than the syringe. heat spreads beneath your skin, that weird burn of medication filling the muscle. his thumb strokes again, this time a little longer, as if anchoring you to the sensation.
“there,” he says. “first one’s in.”
"that wasn't so bad, was it?"
he withdraws the needle, disposes of it in the sharps bin, presses gauze to the spot with two fingers, your skin humming underneath.
"you did great,” he says, still holding your arm. “better than the chart made me expect.”
"you were… slow,” you say, voice tighter than you mean. “i could feel every second.”
his mouth lifts on one side. “i didn’t want to rush,” he says. “sometimes going slow makes it less shocking.”
"does it?” you ask.
his gaze lingers on your face for a long moment. “depends who you ask,” he says. he tapes the gauze down, his fingers brushing your skin in a careful smooth. he doesn’t let go right away. his grip relaxes gradually, thumb resting against the pulse in your wrist.
“you’re still tense," he notes.
"that was just one,” you say. “there’s two more.”
"mm,” he murmurs. “youre right. we should give you a second.”
he doesn’t move back to the counter, though. he stays close, hand loose around your wrist, feeling the jump under your skin. his other hand rests on his knee, fingers curled.
“you’re not afraid of me, are you?” he asks.
it’s an odd question. you look at him, his the coat, the gloves, the tray of metal and glass behind him. “no,” you say. “just what you’re holding.”
he lets out a slow breath. “that makes this easier,” he says.
"i don’t want you flinching away from my hands.”
your pulse kicks at the word, and his thumb feels it.
“you’re thinking about my hands now,” he says softly.
"you’re not supposed to say that,” you reply, heat slowly creeping up your neck.
"probably not,” he agrees. “but it’s true.”
he rolls his stool nearer, closing a bit more of the space. the hum of the light feels louder now for some reason. the room is just big enough for the two of you and the tray, nothing else.
"second shot goes in the other arm,” he says. “same process, okay?”
you offer your other arm without being asked, placing it on the opposite armrest. he takes it, fingers wrapping around, palm fitting to the shape of you like acting he’s done this a thousand times.
just maybe not like this.
he cleans the spot, he cold of the alcohol makes the tiny hairs on your arm stand again.
“you feel everything,” he murmurs.
“is that… bad?” you ask.
his lips press together briefly. “no,”
he readies the syringe, the needle gleaming in the light. you watch his hands more than the metal; the spread of his fingers, the steady angle, the unhurried tempo he kept.
“ready?” he asks.
you inhale. “do it,” you urge.
he slides the needle in, slow enough that you feel the moment your skin gives way. you hiss, your breath pushing hard through your teeth. his grip on your arm tightens, anchoring you.
“good, good..” he says quietly. “stay with it, sweetheart.”
the medication enters gradually, pressure building in the muscle. his thumb strokes again, the same rhythm, a small, soothing back-and-forth that matches the trembling under your skin.
you realize you’re watching his face.
his gaze is fixed on yours. he’s listening to your breaths, tracking the way your shoulders move, and the way your eyes narrow.
“almost,” he says. the word is soft, almost intimate.
the needle exits. finally. now the gauze again, pressure on your arm. his fingers press into you, smearing the sting into a dull throb. your hands curl, nails dragging over the vinyl.
“better?” he asks.
“i can… feel them,” you say. “both.”
"good response,” he says. "that means it’s working.”
"it feels like you’re still holding on,” you say.
“i am,” he says. “you haven’t asked me to let go.”
your pulse stutters and then races. he hears it in your wrist, but he says nothing. “the last one,” he continues, voice lower now, “is the deepest, its the hip injection. its deep because it needs muscle for absorption.”
you exhale slowly, already dreading being you in sixty seconds. “that’s the worst one, right?” you ask. “in theory,” he says. “in practice, it depends on how we do it.” he stands, finally releasing your arm. he moves to the tray, draws up the final dose, and checks the vial. the syringe looks longer, way longer. jesus christ.
"stand for me,” he says.
you rise, your legs slightly unsteady. the gown they gave you is still tied loosely at the back, fabric falling over your hips. he gestures toward the exam table against the wall; a padded surface with paper already pulled across it.
“lie down on your side,” he instructs. “facing the wall. ill walk you through it. don't worry."
you climb onto the table, the paper crinkling loudly under your weight. you turn onto your side and face the blank wall the way you face that report card you know will get your ass whooped.
the hum of the light is louder here, right above you.
you hear his footsteps approaching and the slight clink of the tray as he moves it closer. "im going to need access to the area,” he says. “top of the hip. ill adjust the gown."
you nod, staring at the wall solemnly. the table shifts as he leans closer. his fingers find the edge of the gown, tugging it gently up, exposing more skin to the air. the room’s chill hits first. then his touch. his hand rests on your hip, the gloved palm warm through the temperature difference. the contact is broad, encompassing, his thumb resting near the dip of your waist.
"relax if you can,” he murmurs. “it hurts more when you’re all tight.”
“i don’t know how,” you say.
his hand moves, fingers spreading, pressing lightly into the muscle, gauging tension. he kneads there once, firm pressure like he’s coaxing the tightness away. the motion feels almost like a massage, nothing like what you expected. your breath trips for a second.
“better?”
"a little,” you admit.
he wipes the spot with alcohol for the last time, the cold streaking across your skin. the cotton moves in small circles, his hand steady at your hip.
"this one goes deeper,” he says, voice closer now, closer to your ear. “you’ll feel it more.”
you stare at the wall, muscles twitching. his thumb strokes your hip again, rhythmic.
“try to breathe,” he says quietly. “in… out…”
you obey, inhaling, exhaling, inhaling again.
his hand anchors you to the table, weight even, thumb tracing small arcs in your skin. the needle enters. you feel the puncture, soul takingly sharp, then the push, deeper, into the muscle. it burns.
your body jolts as your breath catches, half-formed.
his grip tightens at your hip, plasticy fingers pressing in.
“stay,” he murmurs, the word a soft command. “you’re okay.”
you exhale in a slow, shaky rush. the burn spreads, its hot under his controlled movement. he pushes the medication steadily, letting you feel every second.
your hand curls around the edge of the table. paper crumples under your fingers, but his thumb keeps moving, small strokes along your side, back and forth, soothing.
“good..,” he says, voice almost a breath. “you’re taking it well.”
your cheeks flush at the phrasing. “you’re… slow,” you say, words thin. "again."
"yes,” he replies. “i don’t like forcing things.”
the last of the dose enters, then the needle exits. he presses gauze to the spot keeping his palm firm, fingers spread wider over your hip now, covering more skin than strictly necessary. the pressure is intense, and you can feel your pulse there too, beating under his hand.
“you’re tense again,” he says.
“it burns,” you whisper.
“i know,” he says. “that’s what the hand is for.”
he doesn’t move it.
his palm stays pressed, weight steady, his thumb resting right at the edge of the gauze, tracing small circles in the exposed skin.
“is that… necessary?” you ask, voice softer.
“necessary?” he repeats, tone unreadable. “no. helpful? maybe.”
you swallow, eyes stuck on the blank wall. “helpful how?”
his thumb continues its subtle movement. “you’re here,” he says. “you’re in your body. you’re feeling something you chose.”
silence.
"can i leave it here a little longer?” he asks, voice near your shoulder now, breath lightly brushing the back of your gown. “the hand.”
“yes.”
he stays.
his fingers flex, adjusting their grip, his hand sliding just slightly higher, the gauze still covered, but more of your skin under his palm.
you can hear his breathing. its slower than yours, but not calm. the table creaks when he shifts his weight, leaning closer.
“you’re warm,” he notes quietly.
“so are you,” you reply.
"do you still hate needles?” he asks.
"i hate the sharp part,” you say. “not… the after.”
his thumb begins to draw a longer line, tracing the curve from your hip up toward your waist, stopping just short of where the gown dips. “the after is important,” he says. his voice has changed, there’s less of the practiced calm and more of something thicker you can't place.
“you can roll onto your back,” he says. “if you want.”
his hand lifts enough to give you room. you turn, paper crackling, your gown shifting with you. when you face him again, he’s closer than you expected. he has one knee on the small stool, one foot on the ground, and his hand hovering in the air between you.
your hip still throbs. heat pools there, spreading upward, mixing with the warmth in your chest.
“how do you feel?” he asks.
"buzzing,” you say. “heavy.”
“not dizzy?” he clarifies.
“not… medically,” you say.
his mouth curves. “good to know.”
he places his hand back on your hip, his palm resting over the gauze again, weight gentler now but present. his fingers curl along your side, thumb pressing near bone.
“this is the part where i’m supposed to give you aftercare instructions,” he says. “rest, hydrate, watch for swelling.”
“you just told me,” you reply.
“that’s true,” he says. “there’s more i could say.”
“like?” you ask.
he leans in, the space between you shrinking. his face is near yours now, breath warm, eyes darker under the office light.
“,you react to touch more than most people who sit here."
you flush. “you’re… watching for that?” you ask.
“hard not to,” he says. “you jump and then you settle. almost like you’re waiting for something.”
“waiting for what?”
he studies you, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your mouth, then back up. “for me to stop,” he says. “or not.” his hand moves up to trace your jaw lightly.
you breathe in, air thick.
“what are you doing?”
his other thumb presses once, deliberate, at your hip. “you didn’t answer the question,” he says.
"which one?” you ask.
"do you want me to stop,” he clarifies.
you hold his gaze, pulse pounding against his hand.
"no.”
he exhales.
“then im going to keep touching you,” he says, his voice lowering as he speaks. “no more needles, okay? just hands.”
he slides his palm slowly, leaving the gauze behind, traveling along your side, mapping the line of your waist, the faint dip and rise of your body under the gown. the fabric shifts with him, dragging lightly over your skin.
his fingers spread, pressing gently into your ribs, feeling each breath you take. each inhale makes your chest expand against him. he watches, intent.
his hand travels higher, along the curve of your torso, hovering near your chest. he stops there, eyes searching yours. you lift your own hand, take his wrist, and guide him a few centimeters higher.
his breath shudders.
"okay,” he says, breathlessly.
his hand cups you, pressure gentle, fingers careful. the contact is solid and unmistakable. your back arches subtly into it, a reflex. his thumb moves, a slow drag. the office feels smaller. outside, a cart wheels past, distant and irrelevant to you now.
each inhale is a little sharper, each exhale slower. his eyes flick to your mouth, then down where his hand is, then back up.
"i can feel your heart here too,” he murmurs.
you let out a short, breathy laugh. “you’re making it worse,” you say.
“am i?” he replies. “you haven’t asked me to move.” and you don’t. instead, your fingers find his forearm, sliding up to his shoulder, feeling the tension there. he’s as wound as you are, muscles taut under your touch. you tug lightly at his shirt, pulling him closer. he leans in.
his face near yours, breath warmer now, scent of coffee and something sharp from the clinic still clinging to him.
he doesn’t warn you this time, his mouth finding yours without the formalities, a slow, deliberate press.
the kiss is deep from the start. his hand on your chest tightens slightly, thumb tracing a small pattern, syncing to the movement of his mouth.
your fingers dig into his shoulder, pulling him harder against you. his other hand lands on the table beside your head, bracing his weight.
you taste something faintly bitter, like the end of a long shift. you feel his breath ghost across your tongue when he exhales into the kiss.
you break first, gasping softly, your lips sticky with his.
“too much?” he asks, voice roughened.
“no,” you say quickly. “just… i need to breathe.”
his thumb resumes its slow pattern, circling, pressing and teasing. your breath falters again, catching in your throat. your hips shift against the table, the gauzed spot throbbing under the pressure of his earlier touch.
“you’re reacting,” he says quietly.
“you’re stating the obvious,” you counter.
he huffs out a low sound, half laugh, half something you can't place. “i’m trying not to forget where we are,” he says. “there’s a door. there’s a hallway. and..,"
he glances at his watch.
",i have another patient in forty minutes.”
you swallow. “does that mean you’re going to stop?” you ask.
he studies you for a beat. “do you want me to?” he asks.
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𝟭𝟱𝟯𝟵. εїз ─── stalker hoon. voyeurism. hoon and reader are both pervs. exhibitionism. dirty talking. big dick hoon. petnames used, princess & baby girl. french kiss. missionary. unprotected sex. fingering. oral Ꮗ 𝑀. underwear fetishism. squirting. breeding kink. ꒰ reblog for a smooch. 𑁤
you are new to the neighborhood and you felt like someone’s been watching your every move. however, you brushed it off like you always do as you carry your stuff inside the apartment. after you finished, there was a guy wearing shades in black and you noticed he’s living beside yours.
a hot neighbor.
you mentally slap yourself from thinking inappropriately to someone you never even talk to. then, he stopped in front of his front door and looking at his right side where he saw you were staring at him openly, without care of being judge.
he clicked his tongue, clearly amused.
what he did after, he waved his hand at you with a smirk tugging at his luscious lips and later, he entered his apartment. your eyes widened, flustered from the act.
“cute.”
it was shameless of you to gawk at someone you find attractive, after that embarrassing interaction you’ve had with the guy—you tried your best to ignore him when he called out for you. he was having fun teasing you, yet he was getting impatient as he wants to know more about his pretty neighbor.
sunghoon never stop his plans.
the first thing he do every morning before he go to his work place is to stop by at your apartment and bring you breakfast with a letter “morning pretty, i made you breakfast so don’t starve yourself. :)”
he also buy flowers for you, lilies, your favorite.
you never find it disturbing.
rather, it made your heart flutter. the flowers he gave you, you will put them in the vase. you always made sure to take care of them just like how he tells you to do.
whether he is doing this as a friend, you couldn’t care less as long as you’re happy at the moment. with him.
however, the most unexpected and shocking truth you witnessed from sunghoon was he’s jerking off while his curtains are wide open where anyone could watch shamelessly.
he’s like those men in porn.
you wonder who was he thinking about while touching himself. you felt jealous from that person. you wished it was you.
“what the fuck is wrong with me?” you mentally hit yourself, still watching him there—breathless and hands still playing with his cock.
he has a horse cock and prominent veins.
on top of that, the tip is reddish, swollen and leaking with too much pre-cum.
you instinctively pressed your thighs together, to ease the discomfort. your gaze met his, staring right at your flabbergasted ones.
he caught you.
your hands were quick to close the blinds, as your back slides against the wall, ashamed. will he confront me? is he going to report me? shit.
a yelped escaped your mouth, as your phone on the side table is ringing continuously. you saw his name, park sunghoon. your neighbor who caught you shamelessly watching him jerked off. fuck, i’m dead.
a bunch of messages from him.
park (hot neighbor) :
join me? or are you just going to watch me jerk off while thinking about your pretty mouth sucking me off?
your pussy throbs at that. so without hesitation, you rushed towards his place, knocking aggressively. when he opens the door, his annoying grin appeared.
“impatient, aren’t we? come in, princess.”
once you’re inside, a click came from behind, as he pushed you against the wall—kissing you with need, it’s one of his desire to have his mouth on you.
you moaned, trying to pull away from the intense and passionate kiss. “wait…”
you’re out of breath.
“why? didn’t expect me to be a good kisser, or—“ sunghoons’ hand slides lower, until he cupped your wetness through your lil shorts. “oh…? you’re soaked through, princess. so adorable.”
he chuckled, hands still settled between your thighs. he couldn’t wait any longer, sunghoon told you to jump and carried you in the living room, where he throw your body on the sofa.
you pulled his face, wanting to taste him better this time. there’s a hint of mint and strawberry flavor as you sucked on his tongue. he groaned at that, his hand pulled your legs apart as he kept on grinding his boner. you feel turned on, your cunt releases with more slick.
“fuck, tell me to stop right now, princess.” his voice muffled, while his mouth is attacking your neck with hickeys.
you shook your head, no. “i don’t want you to stop, please.”
so he didn’t stop.
sunghoon tugged your shorts lower, followed by your soaked undies that he instantly crumpled and slipped it into his pocket. you saw it, but didn’t say anything.
he slapped his cock on your wet folds, making squelching sounds. your cunt kept fluttering from the teasing. you just wanted for him to slip it in already and ruin you.
“look at your cunny, princess. it’s pulsating, you love being toyed like this, hm? you want my cock so bad, yeah? come on, tell hoonie.” he taunted.
you whimpered, frustrated.
“i want it so bad, hoonie. i want your big cock to destroy my pussy, god, please—“
the sudden stretch made you cry, scratching his back at the same time. sunghoon hissed, not because of the nails digging on his back, but because of your walls squeezing him in.
“this is what you wanted, right?”
you only nod your head, as the pain subsided. you look broken already and he hasn’t started yet.
“shit—you’re tight as fuck, princess.”
then, he lifted your other leg, pressing it up against your chest. his cock is so deep in your stomach and sunghoon saw how his length bulges through your belly.
he bit his lip, he wants to hold back all his strength not to drive his cock into you.
“fuck me already, hoonie…”
“please…? pleasepleaseplease.”
your whines gave him an adrenaline rush, and he felt his cock throbbing inside you—he didn’t even expect it could be worser than that.
“oh… i definitely will.”
he pulled out his shaft, before slamming it all the way deeper in your cervix. you gasped loudly, as his tip persistently hits the right spot. “right there—nghh—“
sunghoon grunted with a grin carved into his mouth. “right here…?” he asked, as he switched his angle which made your eyes rolled back, vision blurry. he also flattened his hand on your crotch, fingers working on your neglected clit—rolling, rubbing and pinching it.
your legs are shaking uncontrollably.
“i’m gonna come—hoonie—yesyesyes!” you frantically chanted, desperate to come on his cock. “yeah? come on my cock, princess. make it rain.” as he said that, you squirted—some of your liquids spattered on his face. he even tried to catch a drop by sticking out his tongue like a madman.
after getting a taste, his thrust became more feral. the only thing that’s been running through his head: breed her, breed her. fuck, he’d do it over and over until you’re swollen and carrying his babies.
“mhm—i’m coming,” he buried his face on to your neck, and he made sure to pushed his cock deeper into you. plap. plap. plaaap. he let out a deep groan, still bottoming out when he felt his cock getting bigger. a spurt of cum came out of the tip, before pulling out of you. “take it, princess. shit—jesus fuck—s’good.”
you slowly sat up on the couch, grabbing his cock on both of your hands, leaning in so you could lick the head. you moaned at the taste, before you took the entire thing on your mouth—tongue gliding on the base and you made sure to play with his balls. sunghoon placed a hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer to his length and gradually thrusts in your warm cavern.
“you’re doing good, princess.” he praised.
he tipped his head back, groaning. he’s about to come again. so you didn’t halt your movements by sucking harshly on his shaft. you got wet from sucking him off, and he noticed. sunghoon chuckled, leaning over to slide three digits on your needy cunt. ramming it relentlessly to help you come with him at the same time.
“swallow every drop, baby girl.” sunghoon grab your cheeks, tilting your head and watching your throat moves. “good girl.” when you came on his fingers, he stared straight into your eyes before sucking the three digits that was in your hole a while ago. “deliciosa.” your face heats up, embarrassed.
as the night ended, you still have no idea that park sunghoon was the one who has been watching your every move. he made sure that no one will know his dirty little secret—the stolen pictures of you while you’re cleaning your apartment, doing your laundry while wearing your little shorts that he almost could see your fat swollen lips peeking out when you bent down. and lastly, whenever you take a peek at your window to see if your neighbor is there, without knowing he has always been there—hiding and watching you.
park sunghoon is your college’s infamous heartthrob. despite his terrible reputation as a player and his empty pockets, girls still fall for his countless charms, hoping to be the one to make him change.
two years ago, after a ridiculous rescue, you’ve somehow become sunghoon’s best friend; something that left people confused, constantly asking you the same questions: what are you doing in the life of a guy like that and why did he spare you?
when jake, another cute popular guy, seriously starts hitting on you, your friendship with sunghoon unexpectedly turns sour. hidden within that bitterness lies two truths: your two-year long celibacy was perhaps never your fault and that your best friend may have never really been your best friend at all.
｡tags: best friends to lovers, bad boy x “cool” reader, hints of humor, angst, happy ending, side jake, jake is the boyfriend reader actually deserves, jungwon cameo, wonyoung as sunghoon’s ex, jay as sunghoon’s best friend, sunghoon gets better.
｡warning: MDNI, explicit (smut), sunghoon is manipulative, sunghoon is jealous and possessive, sunghoon is broke, sunghoon isn’t a good student, sugar boy sunghoon, parental abuse (sunghoon’s mum), sunghoon smokes and drinks.
｡smut tags: (it's my first smut so it's a mess) dom sunghoon, bratty awkward reader, unprotected sex (wrap it everyone), dubcon (sunghoon kinda does whatever he wants), bit of dirty talk, she swears at him a lot, fingering, chocking, missionary, creampie, spooning, cockwarming, marking.
｡word count: 24K 🗝
｡playlist: i get this feeling (maden lane), 'til u cry (kwn), get a little freaky with me (fantasy).
｡taglist: (sorry i couldn't reply to everyone but thank you so much for asking to be tagged,i hope the fic won't disappoint you ♡ ) @chyukiz, @bunnyhoon, @simpkuno, @enharized, @savageislandanchor, @hoonievan, @briefcopheroprofessor-blog, @gummypeaches1, @jong-caprio, @en-muse, @kkuroumi, @msrmimi, @lovesocide, @chokoominto, @raininthemorphsis, @esz13, @stillillies, @honeymoonave777, @veemegatron, @geniejunn, @whippedhoon, @zoe1love
｡permanent: @luvpocket, @minhxvn ❤︎
｡disclaimer: this is a fictional work for entertainment purposes. nothing reflects on the real enhypen members!
as the night wears on, everything starts to feel nauseating: the aftertaste of alcohol lingering on the tip of your tongue, the relentless bass that continues to pulse beneath your skin. even the outfit you spent way too long picking out has become suffocating, sticking to your body, pleading to be taken off.
4AM.
that’s what your phone's screen displays, drawing a weary sigh from your lips. it’s not that you dislike partying, but as you've sobered up more than once now, fatigue has ultimately settled into every part of you; you want to go home.
you watch enviously as the college students gradually quit the mansion, undoubtedly belonging to some spoiled rich dude who throws expensive parties, in the desperate aim of getting popular.
especially with women.
something that irks you—not exactly because you find that random dude's tactics pathetic, but because if you can't slip away into the comfort of your pajamas, you have someone cut from the same cloth to thank for it.
but in his case, he doesn’t need money to have women lining up for him. despite being fully aware of the toxic mess he is, women would still pay for one chance to go on date with him, for the slimmest possibility of winning his untouchable heart.
all because this man's face and body cards are… priceless. absolutely priceless. the kind of otherworldly beauty and effortless sensuality that makes every penny worth it.
but that’s far from the whole story.
regarding his bedroom affairs, rumors describe him as one of a kind, the promise of an unforgettable experience that every woman apparently has to try before she dies. he may be deep in student debt and struggle to make ends meet every month, but the man is filthy rich in other departments.
anyway, stuffs that you've heard against your will. in every hallway, girls can't help but chatter about him and his hot bestie jay. shallow gossips that has half the women of your college buzzing, whereas they make you roll your eyes.
that kind of guy… no, just no.
the thrill of push & pull with hearttrobs can be entertaining, sexy, whatever, sure, but for you, as years pass, you now long for a genuine, stress-free relationship, an authentic romance; uncomplicated and sweet, one where you don't have to guess your partner's hidden intentions.
that's why earlier, during the party, when a girl, that you saw around in classes, approached you—knowing your relationship with him, you responded without a second thought.
“aren't you worried?” she inquired out of curiosity, probably a bit drunk.
you frowned, unsure. “worried? about what?”
“you know, to be his next target.” upon hearing this, you couldn't hold back the humorless laugh that came out, immediately knowing who she was talking about; as always, they all come to you for him, because of him.
“i'm not.” you assured her with a little chuckle, almost baffled that she could even wonder such a thing. “he’d never do that with me, and to be honest, nothing he could try would work on me.”
because finding someone attractive is one thing, desiring them is another. and in your eyes, aside his appearance, nothing about sunghoon… is dateable.
you know him too well, way too well. what he truly is beneath his perfect looks, beyond the mere red flag stories that no one ever takes seriously, the countless “i can change him” attempts that end in major heartbreaks: his unredeemable self. all those girls, blinded by their delusions and romantic hearts, want to be the one for him. and he lets them believe that they can.
“really? so if the park sunghoon tries to hit on you, you wouldn't be tempted even a little?”
full of confidence, voice even tinged with a hint of contempt. maybe a bit too loud.
“that's right, i’d never be.”
indeed, park sunghoon is your average fuckboy; a label perhaps even too mild for him. he does the regular stuffs; sleeping around and getting taken home by various pretty girls he meets (and never the other way around since his place... well), flirting with multiple women at once—always keeping his options open as a true strategist.
but that's not his specialty. what he excels at is the chase: the thrill of pursuing, the satisfaction of winning, and then the inevitable break. chase and break.
it doesn’t take him long to charm someone. one night, one week. two for the most resilient ones. his entire being seemingly crafted by the heavens and carefully perfected by his own self.
no one can help but notice sunghoon’s tall and charismatic figure when he walks into a room, a man that stands out even from a distance.
he has naturally thick black hair, the kind that makes you want to run your fingers through it just to see if it’s as silky as it looks.
he wears a subtle, masculine fragrance, a scent that lingers in your mind long after you’ve parted ways.
his eyes are deep and mesmerizing, the kind you have to look away from if he tries to draw you in with them.
he even has an unexpectedly cute charm: a bright eye smile with two little fangs that peek out.
despite his cool beauty, sunghoon carries a warm aura. he has a natural talent for striking up conversations, making women laugh and feel comfortable enough to let their guard down. even men fall victim to his charm.
at first, sunghoon will sympathize, listen patiently to your problems. then, he will get comfortable with you: an arm casually draped over your shoulder, fingers gently playing with your hair in a comforting gesture, a knee brushing against yours "without meaning to". the kind of touch that catches you off guard at first, only to become something you gradually get used to.
giving his all to make you question everything you’ve heard about him and eventually disregard his record as a total bastard.
looks like an angel, but he's a trauma in the flesh.
[…]
a few meters away.
the bathroom is thick with steam and cloying perfumes. two bodies press together, mouths locked in messy kisses. one aches with desire, while the other trembles with repressed anger ; her teeth graze his skin, desperate to make him hers, her hands pull his hair, whereas he’s groping her curves coarsely, slowly venturing into her secret sanctuary, with no hesitation whatsoever.
“sunghoon,” the girl whispers feverishly the next instant, as his skilled right-hand fingers already send her to seventh heaven, his left hand quietly rummaging through her purse. “what did you say your dad did for a living? ” the girl writhers in pleasure, her moans echoing the dimly lit room. “pl-plastic surgeon”, barely managing to reply between her gaps. her response makes him nod approvingly, with a slight pout of his bottom lip.
after getting his hands on one of her credit cards, sunghoon calmly slips it into the back pocket of his jeans, as if he were doing this every day. “tell me your name again” between uneven breaths, she replies, “gi-giselle”.
sunghoon chuckles, curling his fingers against her sensitive spot and making her cry louder, “okay, pretty giselle”, he teases with a hint of disdain, cupping her cheeks with his free hand, “show me what those big lips of yours can do then,” in no time, the sharp clink of a belt being unbuckled and the rasp of a zipper sliding open echo through the walls.
[…]
if anyone wonders how sunghoon, despite his broke ass, always wears designer clothes, owns expensive watches, glasses, caps and a whole drawer of calvin klein underwear… well, it's because they're all gifts from his ex fucks, whether they get them for him or he gets them himself using their card.
hidden within his easygoing nature lies deceit.
sunghoon drives women crazy, especially the rich ones spoiled by their parents, likely pursuing them out of envy and convenience.
he's known for his love-bombing: the excessive affection, the clinginess, the jealousy that makes them feel special. he buries them under attention, sweet words and intoxicing intimacy.
he effortlessly has these girls crawl at his feet, wrapped around his finger, all while never committing. and it has to be said: sunghoon leaves them no real way out. should one of them ever try to walk way before he decided, he'd become as harmless as a lamb to talk her out of it.
sunghoon always wins, because that’s the moment they realize just how deeply in love they are, how emotionally dependent they've become of his attention. and he takes advantage of it: for weeks, sometimes months, sunghoon basks in their care, affection and wealth; a true sugar boy.
then, just as suddenly as it began, it’s over.
he ends things before any of these girls can understand anything, beg him to reconsider. the moment he’s gotten what he wants and found his next pretty wealthy girl to pursue, sunghoon disappears. his early warmth immediately vanishing, replaced by the coldness of his haunting absence. and if there is one thing about park sunghoon, he never comes back. never.
what does sunghoon exactly want?
easy money? a fleeting connection? a semblance of power? no one knows and he never told you, probably doesn’t know himself. so it remains a mystery, one worth a pile of broken hearts, with the answer buried in the intricacies of his wounded soul.
one time, you two were resting beneath a tree on the college lawn. his head was laying comfortably on your lap and your fingers were absentmindedly running through his soft hair; a proximity deemed normal between you.
during that peaceful moment, sunghoon mentioned that he's actually incapable of falling in love with someone. a statement that made you raise an eyebrow, curious and sceptical, because… you don’t believe that.
what could your best friend possibly know when he's never given himself a chance to experience love? always running away the moment his heart emits a hint of genuine tenderness—not the tenderness he’s learned to feign so perfectly on the surface, but the very one that makes him feel attached and vulnerable.
in your eyes, sunghoon is scared. trapped by his traumas, as cliché as it sounds. you would never say that to him though; his ego wouldn't be able take it, so the words remain anchored in your chest.
the only thing you do know is what started it all. that endless, vicious circle, he keeps drowning in without ever trying to resurface: the aftermath of growing up in an abusive household—visible and invisible scars left etched across his being, wounds that he choose to conceal rather than heal.
a story he narrated while drunk (again). muscled arms wrapped around your hips, holding you tightly with a tint of despair and loneliness. his head heavy resting in your neck, his unsteady breath skimming over your skin.
and you weren't unbothered by his behavior, right? you were simply lending him an ear:
a father who had run away with his mistress and never cared for his existence. a mother who had fallen into gambling and habitual drunkenness, taking her anger out on the son who carried the same face as her cheating ex-husband:
“adeul, your own mom hates you, so how could any woman ever truly love you?”
painful words that made you understand what drove sunghoon to hurt innocent women, one by one.
when one feels worthless, they can become heartless.
still.
nothing could ever justify his trash behavior. and to make things worse, sunghoon is the kind of asshole who doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse.
he even lets you deal with the consequences of his brutal separations: you're the one wiping the hot tears from his ex lovers' flushed cheeks, telling them the words they need to hear so they don't completely fall apart.
although sunghoon wants you to believe he's busy with something important, every time he ends things with yet another girl, you're aware that those recurring "coincidences" are nothing but blatant lies.
still, you always assumed that if he leaves you to deal with his girls, it’s because he only knows how to break things, not how to fix them. no one ever taught him, so, you just do it for him.
after all, how could a mechanic repair a car without ever learning how?
that's when folks begin to wonder: what are you doing in the life of a guy like that and why did he spare you?
all things considered, you'd say you're a fairly pretty girl, not breathtakingly beautiful but one who usually receive sweet compliments upon first meeting.
you're not loaded, but your family is well-off. thanks to your excellent grades, which you work hard for, you earn a scholarship and live comfortably in a single student apartment.
your relationship with your parents is a good one too. they call you often to check on you, send you money without you even asking—their bank transfers, always accompanied by a lovely note: "for our lovely daughter ♡". they show you love through many different ways.
things sunghoon clearly envies, among many others.
in short, you've never had a particularly difficult life and you check quite a few boxes on his target type. like, to be precise, you are sunghoon's type. so why not... you?
it all started one fine morning, two years ago. you had pulled over to the roadside in a quiet residential area near the university, just like every morning. after grabbing your coffee on the way, you sat on the hood of your car, sipping it slowly as you tried to wake yourself up properly.
but that's when your peaceful morning was disrupted.
furious shouts from a man suddenly erupted from the building across, voice booming as he yelled at someone to “get the fuck out of there, little bastard.” a loud bang followed, the sound of door being thrown open, along a feminine voice seemingly whining about the situation, and unmistakable sounds of a heated pursuit.
then you saw a guy in his twenties stumbling down the building's stairs. black hair, a plausibly handsome face, and a well-built body, because, yeah, the most noticeable thing… naked. he was completely naked, with nothing but a pair of jeans barely covering his private parts.
while he was panicking, glancing over his shoulder at the beefy guy chasing after him and unsure which way to run along the sidewalk, that was when he spotted you.
your eyes met and your fates were sealed.
a glimmer of hope flashed across his face, his gaze immediately painting you as his savior. but you were no heroine, you just wanted to drink your coffee in peace before heading to class. you certainly didn't want to get involved into his mess as well, so you broke eye contact and looked away, pretending you hadn't seen him.
surely, any passerby would come to your aid if they witnessed the scene: a 180cm tall guy, bare as a newborn chick, standing in the middle of the street, about to inconvenience you.
unfortunately, that wasn't enough to keep him from approaching you. you learned that day that he was a persistent man.
seeing him more closely, extra careful not to look lower, you noticed that his face was familiar to you: wasn't that the campus hottie begging you right now?
“please help me, i'll repay you five times over,” was the first thing sunghoon ever said to you.
even though you didn't feel like helping him—something telling you he was far from being a helpless victim, you had to admit you were weak when it came to lost-puppy eyes, especially when they belonged to a guy as fine as him.
you also knew that his repeated pleas (and that chiseled torso) would stay on your mind if you drove away without helping.
besides, it wasn't exactly unpleasant to have the college's heartthrob indebted to you.
when you caught sight of what you later learned was the girl's enraged father nearby, you made your decision. with an amused sigh and a slight clearing of your throat, you locked eyes with sunghoon and gave a quick nod toward the passenger door of your car.
the look of relief had barely crossed his pale face before the door slammed shut, sunghoon already having taken refuge inside your car.
after drinking the last drop of your coffee and tossing the cup into the trash beside you, you didn't waste another second: you rushed to the driver's side and started the engine without delay, the father's threatening shouts echoing from behind as the car quickly drove away.
that was how your first encounter with sunghoon went: his bare cheeks on your seat, the sound of your laughter filling the car as he told you the full story. worth mentioning that you arrived late that day for class because your passenger princess obviously had the nerve to ask you to stop by his place so he could grab some clothes; just another thing he owed you.
anyway, something was born between you that day. a strange friendship, an impenetrable bond, a connection that shouldn't exist.
you've become the closest woman in his life, his female best friend (since jay is there for the male representation), the one sunghoon trusts completely aside from jay.
ironically, rescuing him thay day earned you a very special place in his unfathomable heart.
and after two years of friendship, sunghoon has never once made a move on you. you always assumed, out of gratitude or something along those lines, which is why you're confident he never would.
even if things have never been said out loud, it has somehow been established that you're simply his best friend and nothing more.
if your values regarding love don't align at all, friendship is different. sunghoon is precious to you. you're both fun and chill, you bicker constantly but never had a serious fight. you love his cheery presence, his quirky sense of humor, but also the way he stays up late just to let you rant about your day, making sure you've let go of all your stress before going to sleep. or the way sunghoon somehow always knows when you need one of his huge, heartwarming hugs.
beyond the popular red flag who breaks girls' hearts, sunghoon remains a friend worth cherishing, after being torn apart by his dysfunctional family. especially after hearing his past and seeing him at his lowest, the thought of abandoning your best friend and cutting ties with him has become unthinkable.
even though you can't fix him, you've made it your personal mission to warm his cold heart as best you can.
nevertheless, much to your regret, the car incident also made you his accomplice in all his mischief with girls, somehow turning you into his unofficial relationship manager.
calling him out on his behavior and coaxing him to stop were things you used to do, but as your words always went in one ear and out the other a second later, you eventually gave up and accepted your fate.
sunghoon doesn't care, no matter how many times you try.
to ease your guilt about being best friends with a massive player, you sometimes try to sabotage his plans—cockblocking him, behind his back; secretly warning the girls, giving him the wrong address for his dates...
however, it hardly ever works because first, sunghoon is somehow always one step ahead of you. second, his girls often end up thinking you're… jealous, which makes you sigh every time.
they only realize later, when you're the one comforting them, instead of the man they want, with a look that says, “i told you so”… because sunghoon doesn't even bother leaving them on read. after the breakup, he deletes their number and texts straight away.
back to the present, the party.
speak of the devil, here he is at last: the finest student on campus, its infamous don juan and your one and only best friend, park sunghoon.
or rather, what is left of him at this moment. he emerges from a dark corridor, trying to walk properly, with dignity.
alas, he only looks like a disheveled mess who’d a very good time: red lipstick smears the corner of his fleshy lips, a few hickeys ravage his neck, and his hair is slightly disheveled from obviously being pulled, not to mention under his leather jacket, his shirt is almost wide open, held together by a single, overworked button.
once again, he looks like a mess, but undoubtedly the most beautiful mess.
of course, as soon as sunghoon spotted you leaning lazily against the bar, his unsteady steps instinctively led him toward you, as if drawn by a magnet. because he knows you're waiting for him, like the perfect bestie that you are. you wouldn’t let him go home alone, not when he is in such a drunken state.
and even if you ever dare to leave without him (which you've done before… twice), he would find his way to your apartment, one way or another. no matter what time it is, he'd ring your doorbell until you finally open the door. then he’d win as you always let him in before your neighbors complain or call the cops.
when sunghoon gets near you, your eyes meet with a spark of playfulness. regardless of how tired and fed up you are from waiting for him, you can't help but laugh when he winks and flashes that stupid smug smirk; silly shameless man.
“cinderella, midnight struck long ago; it's time to go home.” you tease him with a weary smile.
“sorry, fairy godmother, a demure and lovely lady didn’t want to let me go,“ he replies, now standing before you. he slightly shifts his head, exposing his neck to prove his point, showing you the hickeys you've already noticed.
you roll your eyes and chuckle, “i don't need to ask if you enjoyed your night out, huh?” you don't wait for his answer, only hearing him snicker, before reaching out your hand, “give me the keys to your junk” not bothering to be polite and simply gesturing him with your fingers.
like an obedient puppy, sunghoon listens and slips the car keys into your palm. then, as if he were on an invisible leash, he naturally follows you when you start heading toward the doorway; words are no longer necessary between the two of you.
when you step outside, the winter chill immediately catches up with you. you still take a deep breath, relieved to finally escape the heavy smell of cigarettes and alcohol. however, your relief is short-lived.
as you both walk over to sunghoon's car, you notice a girl leaning against its rusty bodywork, waiting.
you slow your pace, sighing in annoyance because you know her: wonyoung.
you've spoken to her several times, consoling her each time, yet it seems like nothing is ever enough for her to forget sunghoon.
and of course, at that exact moment, the familiar click of a lighter echoes behind you: sunghoon. that coward has conveniently stopped in his tracks to light a cigarette. in other words, he also spotted his ex situationship and doesn't want to deal with her.
“what are you doing waiting outside in this weather, wonyoung… just go home before you catch a cold,” you throw as you walk toward her, your eyes linger on her chanel coat.
she glances at the man behind you, who pointedly ignores her. “can i just have a word with him? please.” her voice trembles and glisten with unshed tears.
you sigh again, both frustrated and embarrassed. “do i really need to tell you that he has nothing to say to you? i think you can figure that out yourself.”
normally you're nicer, but it's almost 5 a.m., and there is only one thing you want: going home. like now is not the time.
“look,” you continue, lowering your voice so that nosy ass sunghoon can't overhear. “you're such a beautiful girl who deserves better… than this guy. i swear, you'll soon find someone who genuinely cherish you. sunghoon isn't worth your tears,” as she starts sobbing in front of you, making you shift uncomfortably. “you know very well how it works with him: once it's over, it's over for good,” you said, giving her shoulder a sympathetic pat.
you think you've wrapped it up nicely, yet your words seem to trigger something in her, since she snaps the next moment. “you talk as if it were easy to move on.” amid her tears, wonyoung lets out a nerve-wracked, bitter laugh. “you can't understand because he never tried anything with you.”
she slaps your hand off her shoulder. “but now that i know him better, i'm sure of it. y/n, instead of comforting all his exes, you should be watching out for yourself.”
after those blunt words, wonyoung finally storms off, leaving you… more than a little perplexed, your eyebrows knit together as you watch her silhouette fade into the night. you let out a nervous laugh.
what is she on? wonyoung only said that to get back at you... right? like, blowing off some steam?
you don't have time to dwell on her words before you feel warm breath on your neck.
“sunghoon isn't worth your tears?”
you jump at the familiar deep voice repeating your words right beside your ear.
spinning around, you smack sunghoon's chest, making him stumble back a few steps as his laughter rings through the quiet street.
“if you're so interested in the things i say to your ex fuck, next time you can say them yourself.”
you head toward the driver's door, your annoyance making every movement sharper than necessary; something sunghoon notices right away as he slips into the passenger seat.
“hey, why are you mad? i'm the one who got insulted.” he raises an eyebrow, still teasing you, knowing you'll eventually cool off if he makes you laugh.
you don't turn to him as he hopes though and instead start the engine.
still, you can't help wondering why you're suddenly so irritated. sure, sunghoon has the audacity to tease you right after you'd finished yet another emotionally taxing conversation with one of his ex fucks—a conversation where you got chewed out because of him.
but you shouldn't be worked up since he does this shit (annoying you and startling you at the most random moments) all the time.
deep down, though, you can probably guess what's really bothering you; if sunghoon overheard what you said under your breath, then he must have heard what wonyoung before storming off too. and yet... he pretends of nothing, doesn't react.
you've been driving in silence for a few minutes now, and you feel sunghoon fidgeting in his seat; he hates it when you go quiet on him, give him the cold shoulder.
“when we get to your house, i'll cook you ramen, y/n. stop ignoring me,” he complains in the most childish way. is his grown ass really doing aegyo?
you immediately recall the last overcooked bowls of ramen sungoon made for you and start chuckling.
at the sound of your laughter, sunghoon's features melt into a warm, smug expression, revealing his precious eye smile; he managed to make you laugh, just as he hoped.
“i comfort girls crying because of you, and all you have to give me in return is soggy ramen?” you tease, throwing his words back to him.
his face twists into an offended expression, holding his chest, pretending to be hurt by what you said. “i cooked these ramen with my whole heart and that’s what you think of it? damn, girls are so heartless.”
a bemused scoff slips past your lips. “wow, you really have no shame, mr. park.”
you shake your head at his nonsense, laughing along with him. “and what do you mean, my house? you’re sleeping in your own bed tonight.”
another round of complaints comes out off sunghoon. “y/n, i’m too drunk to go back” he whines. from his furrowed eyebrows to exaggerated pout and pleading voice, he tries really hard to soften you up.
“but i thought i was heartless?” sunghoon instantly drops the fake whining and leans closer, placing his hand on the driver's seat.
his woody fragrance mixed with the faint smell of cigarettes lit earlier suddenly fills your senses. without realizing, your back tenses slightly.
you like that scent, because it’s familiar, because it's his, and somehow, you can tell he's very aware of it.
“i was joking; you’re the most marvelous girl, y/n. just let me sleep at your place.” you quickly shoot him an annoyed glance, only to get caught in his steady gaze. you clear your throat and turn your attention back to the road.
“please,” he adds in a sickeningly sweet tone, one he knows you’ll eventually yield to.
“fine.” you can feel his smile right beside your neck.
this little shit. he pulls away, sitting properly back into his seat, now that he got what he wanted—as always.
you've stopped counting the number of times sunghoon has crashed at your place, your couch being his bed of choice, to the point where the leather has molded to the shape of his body.
his part-time job in a shady bar helps pay for his tuition. since his grades are barely average, he doesn't qualify for scholarships and can't afford student housing.
so, technically, even though sunghoon claims he doesn't have a home, he still lives with his horrible mother. if he had his own place, he’d know his mom would show up constantly, pestering him for money.
besides, it's convenient that none of his fucks know his actual address, avoiding any more confrontation after the breakups. so in a way, it's a blessing in disguise.
because, yeah, the two persons who end up pay for this lifestyle are jay and you.
you both have an unwanted roommate, who is repeatedly staying over, eating your food in the fridge, doing his laundry without contributing to anything. you're honestly getting a little tired of drying his calvin klein underwear…
but you let him anyway, because the only thing of real value sunghoon owns (aside from the gifts from his girls) is his car, a sentimental inheritance from his late grandfather, which breaks down more often than it runs.
for an ill-fated guy, sunghoon does have golden best friends.
and so, the road to your home carries on, cocooned in the warmth of your laughs and bickerings… completely oblivious to sunghoon's calculative gaze, lingering discreetly on you. because little did you know, even walls have ears.
the days, weeks and months pass by in the same familiar routine: you sleep, wake up, buy your coffee on the way to campus, often with sunghoon by your side. you attend class together (when he isn’t somewhere skipping them), eat lunch together and then part ways when it comes to study, sunghoon always coming up with some excuse to escape.
you spend most of your days with your best friend, sometimes with jay too, when neither of them os busy "dating" girls. saturday nights are often marked by parties (dragged by sunghoon), though you always make sure you're up to date with your studying before you go.
to sum it up, nothing unusual happens.
but you don't know why. sometimes, in the middle of class, your mind wanders. ever since that eventful evening one month ago, wonyoung's words have lingered in your mind, leaving behind a curiosity that won’t let you rest: what did she hear or notice that made her tell you to watch out?
you also remember the random girl who approached you a few hours earlier and asked you if you were worried that he might try to hit on you one day.
like, twice in the same night, something is off.
is it just a coincidence? just girls into sunghoon, perhaps envious of how close you are to him? or is there really something you’ve failed to notice?
after two years of being best friends, you know almost everything about him, or at least you think you do. did they say those things because of how physically close you are? in the sense that cuddling, tickling, resting his head on your lap, stomach or shoulder are have always been normal between the two of you, but maybe not to anyone else?
to you, it's no big deal, especially since sunghoon has never crossed the line: no inappropriate touches, no attempts to kiss or anything like that, even though he had so many opportunities, with the number of times he's gotten drunk and could have easily blamed it on a “mistake”.
there must be something else, something you're missing. to be honest, you kind of hate yourself for doubting sunghoon when he’s never done anything wrong, at least not to you.
but anyway, let's call it female intuition. after all, your bestie is no regular guy, and if other girls noticed something, there’s definitely a reason for it.
however, you decide to put these doubts aside for now, especially since they might be completely infounded.
valentine’s day is coming up, and this year, you don't want to spend it alone.
you’ve had boyfriends before, three, to be exact. but none of these relationships lasted, since it was never true love. your reasoning was simple: once the initial spark faded, there’s no point in holding on to a relationship that’s bound to fall apart sooner or later.
but ever since your last boyfriend two years ago, you have to confess: you've been struggling on the dating scene.
the boys look at you with interested, especially at student parties. but strangely enough, they rarely ever approach you. you assume it's probably a generational thing, like these days men wait for women to make the first move instead of the other way around. still, it's safe to say you’ll never be the one to approach a guy first, as a proud old-school girlie.
it bums you to think that the last time you kissed a really cute guy was a year ago. jungwon, that was his name you recall. you were in a party and you had danced together, had a great chat. the chemistry was there, the kiss was hot. you could’ve definitely gone home together, and who knows, maybe even have tried dating afterwards, considering he seemed like a genuinely good boy.
but when jungwon went to refill your empty glasses, he never came back. you ended up spending the rest of the night alone, waiting for sunghoon as always, before ultimately heading back to your apartment with him instead.
on the way home, you had yapped to sunghoon about it, laughing awkwardly as you did. you joked that maybe jungwon simply didn't like you that much and had come up with an excuse to run away, or perhaps you’d forgotten know how to kiss someone properly.
sunghoon hadn't reacted much, merely letting out a quiet laugh at your story. all he’d muttered was that the guy was an idiot who didn't know what he was missing. you'd answered with a smile, “yup, that’s right,” more to boost your own spirits than anything else, before quickly moving on. you had exams to focus on then, so it didn't really matter.
but now, after last year's failure, your longing for a handsome, kind boyfriend is becoming harder and harder to ignore. like, you miss having with a sweet guy to go on simple dates with, someone to cuddle up with at home in front of a movie while the fireplace crackles beside you.
especially with the season of love around the corner and all the little things that makes you wish you weren't single.
and as if cupid had heard your lonely prayers, just a few days later, the love bell came knocking at your door.
as you're putting your things away in your locker, you notice a tall figure standing behind the small metal door. glancing down, you spot a pair of black sneakers and expect to see sunghoon, who'd left a few minutes earlier after telling you to wait for him.
however, when you shut your locker, you're met not by the familiar handsome face of your best friend, but by another man who's just as fine in an entirely different way.
you've seen him around before, whether on campus or at parties, but more than anything, you've heard about him. sim jake, a name that's just as often on the lips of college girls. but unlike sunghoon, it's for all the right reasons: kind, studious, loyal, wealthy, while also being undeniably sexy. in short, the whole package.
you arch an eyebrow, intrigued by what the golden boy could possibly want from you.
“hey, i'm jake,” he opens the conversation smoothly, without a trace of shyness, offering you a perfect smile.
“hi jake.” you reply with a subtle, flirtatious smile. even if he came to see you for something else entirely, having the sim jake right in front of you, looking so scrumptious, isn't something that happens every day. so, for once, you decide to drop the whole waiting-for-him-to-make-the-first-move thing and take the initiative. “i already know who you are, but do you know who i am?”
“of course i do, y/n,” he says, spelling your name out with his attractive australian accent, a charming laugh escaping his lips, coupled with a devastating smirk.
your heart skips a beat. is he flirting back? unsure, you try to keep your composure, making sure you don't starting blushing like a fool, although you're already melting like chocolate inside.
“so, what brings sim jake to my locker?” you ask sweetly, letting his name linger on your tongue like a piece of candy, your interest in him now impossible to hide.
“well, i'll be direct. i've been trying to approach for a while this pretty girl i'm talking with right now. i'd like to go on a date with her you know, to see if we match or something.”
you chuckle at his words and play along with him. “for a while, really? interesting. if she is who i think she is, i think she might be fine with that.”
although he still has a playful gleam in his gaze, you see jake’s lips tremble slightly; he looks hesitant. “but is it fine to him tho?”
your smile slowly fades, leaving behind only but m a thin, bittersweet line.
you understand immediately who he's referring to, and you don't like how quickly the realization hits you, like the way it's so obvious to you.
in fact, it's quite bothersome.
in the early months of your friendship, people did misunderstand you as sunghoon’s girlfriend—or more like, his fwb. but after two years, most of people around the campus know now that you’re friends, only friends. so someone like jake, #popular, has to know.
still, you pretend to half know. “him?” you scoff, “you mean park sunghoon?”
he nods without saying a word.
“we're only friends, why would he have an issue with this?” you retort, your voice tinged with amused curiosity.
jake's smile lingers, but his eyes narrow slightly, silently asking, are you serious?
“have you really not noticed, or have you noticed and you're just pretending you haven't?”
you remain silent, chuckling under your breath as you shake your head in quiet confusion.
again.
when you don't respond, jake continues, a little flustered.
“sorry, that was a bit rude of me. let's just… focus on us, if you allow me.”
you nod thoughtfully. without answering his previous question, you skip straight to, “where and what time?” decisively changing topic, no longer beating around the bush.
jake instinctively runs a hand through his thick brown hair, visibly relieved that he hasn't ruined everything.
“are you free tonight? i know this australian bar, they serve excellent beers and burgers. it's cozy, nothing too fancy, we can chill, have a few drinks and chat.”
you absolutely love the date idea, and are about to say yes without a second thought.
then, you remember that you reluctantly promised to help sunghoon study tonight, after he begged you at least fifteen times. with no surprise, he failed several exams in a row and is now at risk of repeating the year, something he absolutely can't afford financially.
“not tonight, i have to study for an upcoming exam,” you lie, keeping to yourself that you'll actually be playing professor for a certain someone else instead, though you don't understand why you chose to hide it.
you notice the disappointment on his adorable puppy face, so you rush to reassure him: “but tomorrow, yeah, i'd really like to.” his big smile returns at the mention of it, and you find yourself smiling back warmly. both of your eyes light up with excitement as you exchange numbers.
and once again, you remain unaware of the man nearby, watching the entire exchange, leaning against a locker, a pissed-off look on his face.
in the dim light of your living room, class materials are scattered everywhere; your computer sits on the corner of the coffee table, while sunghoon's textbooks and exam papers are covered in your neat handwriting. you spent the evening studying together, explaining the parts he didn't understand or had completely missed.
you sat beside each other, bodies close enough that you could feel his warmth against your skin, shoulders and fingers brushing every now and then. but again, none of this, this kind of closeness, feels unusual for you guys.
the only thing on your mind is that you clearly deserve to be paid for your tutoring, but then again, hey, sunghoon is your beloved, broke, and irresponsible best friend.
you decide that's enough for today and suggest taking a break to relax in front of the tv, which sunghoon immediately agrees to.
while waiting for the food you ordered, with your own money of course, your eyes remain fixed on the netflix page, as you try to pick a movie to watch.
you're both sitting on the thick, fluffy rug, with your backs against the sofa—yes, the very one that sunghoon has claimed as his bed.
you list movie titles for sunghoon, only to be met with a mere “mmh” every single time, which is absolutely no help at all. after several long minutes of this, you feel your patience wearing thin.
sensing his insistent gaze on you rather than the screen, you turn toward him, determined to annoy him in the same way.
“how long are you planning on giving me the same useless answer sunghoon? you don't feel like watching a movie anymore?”
he looks at you thoughtfully, as if carefully considering what he's about to say.
you simply shrug, your expression saying, well? are you going to make up your mind?
“when was the last time you had a boyfriend y/n?”
confusion immediately spreads across your face as his question registers. “huh?” you sputter, totally caught off guard.
“just answer the question,” he insists casually, though you notice something off about him, like a suble tension.
your gazes meet, and from the look in his eyes, you already know he won't give up until he gets his answer. fuck, he really takes pride in being annoying, isn't he?
you let out a nervous laugh and give in anyway, “okay, but help me decide for real which movie to watch next.”
since you happen to have been thinking about his question recently, you quickly answer, mumbling. “two years, why?”
to which sunghoon responds with nothing more than just another shitty “hmm”.
if his goal tonight is to get on your nerves, well done, mission accomplished.
still, you try to keep your cool, meeting his unbothered gaze with your miffed one.
“got any other random questions for me tonight while we're at it?”
“are you going to meet jake?” sunghoon drops the question casually, as if he hadn't just asked something he had no business knowing about.
you were right, sunghoon really is moving weird tonight. however, you choose to play dumb, pretending not to notice anything unusual with his behavior. “yeah, tomorrow. did you see him talking to me today?”
it isn't a real question, and he knows it. so finally, he doesn't even bother responding with his usual lame “hmm”. instead, he breaks eye contact and turns his attention to the tv.
since sunghoon is already trying to avoid confrontation, as usual, before you move on from whatever this is, you might as well take your chance to dispel your doubts or… confirm them.
“what’s up, park? are you bothered by something perhaps?” or someone, you'd like to add.
you shift to face him more directly, resting your elbow on the sofa in a deliberately provocative manner. the tables have turned, you're the one stirring shit while sunghoon is now the one feeling your persistent gaze.
though, he doesn't take his eyes off the screen, suddenly very interested in the movie catalog. however, the tight grin on his face gives him away : you've bruised his ego. good.
“why didn’t you just come and jump in the chat instead of, i assume, watching us from afar?”
your question makes him chuckle derisively, but you can sense the nervousness underneath it. you've known him for two years; his ass can't fool you.
yet, you notice his uneasiness, too quickly, fading away as he responds with unsettling confidence; a true top scorer in men’s field.
“why would i intrude such a sweet moment when you’ve been single for so long?” you can't tell wether he's being normal or sarcastic. however, you place your bet on the latter.
then he finally turns to face you, his newfound insolence matching your provocation, “i wouldn’t want you accusing me of being the reason you don't get laid." he says, clearing his throat, as if ready to twist the knife, “especially after all this time.”
on god. this asshole.
you laugh humourlessly, about to respond with a scathing retort, when the doorbell cuts you off.
lucky bastard, saved by the bell.
sunghoon wastes no time and jumps to his feet. with an unconcerned sigh, he strolls to the door and collects your order from the delivery man.
this might be the first time you've ever felt such a strong urge to stranggle your best friend.
especially when sunghoon re-enters your apartment, placing the bag of food on the coffee table nonchalantly. he arranges everything you ordered in front of you, looking throughly pleased, even humming to himself. even though he can clearly feel your murderous glare, a low laugh rumbles from sunghoon’s chest as he simply grins at you, "let's eat, y/n."
you don't answer, silently accepting the chopsticks he holds out to you. you watch him as he turns his attention back to the television, finally settling on a movie. this time, the silent treatment you’re giving him doesn't trouble him the slightest.
as you pick up a piece of meat and chew it with your jaw clenched, your mind drifts back to his dickish remark, or rather the way he said it: being the reason you don’t get laid?
really? did he actually say that?
you're not the type of girl who takes things to heart. even when people tease you, you usually just laugh it off, but this clearly isn't just playful banter, it's downright rude. and that’s so unlike him, so unlike the sunghoon you know.
fuck.
if you weren't best friends, you might actually think that sunghoon is… jealous of jake.
it doesn’t make any damn sense…
yet ?
it suddenly pops into your head: what if either that random girl, wonyoung or even jake was right? that there is more than meets the eye?
the rest of your evening is weighted down by this shitty, tense atmosphere. sunghoon keeps talking for the sake of talking while you barely respond, forcing fake smiles whenever you have to.
and you hate all of this, every second of it. you and sunghoon rarely argue like that, if not never.
that night, you’re tossing and turning in bed. your thoughts keep circling back to the person lying on your couch, peacefully sleeping, while you’re unable to find sleep because of him: your best friend, park sunghoon.
australian rock music plays in the background, mingling with the lively noise of restaurant and the various conversations happening at each table—including yours, with handsome jake.
you're in the middle of your meal, already on your third beer, because all this talking is making y'all thirsty. there are teasing smiles exchanged, eyes sparkling with interest; the date is going wonderfully.
yet you have a knot in your stomach. not because of jake, who's doing his best to ease the tension without knowing it, but your best friend.
you hate thinking about another man during such a lovely moment, but you can't help but reminiscing about his asshole behavior the night before; you're still not over it.
besides, sunghoon left before you this morning, when you always have to fight to get him out of bed, off your sofa. you also didn't catch sight of him again during the day, not even in class.
since last night, he's been acting so strangely, and it's spoiling your good mood. if you let your intrusive thoughts get the better of you, you'd believe sunghoon did all of this on purpose, so you'd think about him when you're on your date with jake. but that's not the case, is it?
so after finishing your plates, with jake having started his fourth pint of beer, which should have left him a little tipsy and therefore make it less suspicious, you let intrusive-sunghoon-thought win and ask jake what's been on your mind all night.
“by the way, yesterday, when you said i didn't notice anything about sunghoon, what did you mean by that?”
his smile tenses a little, nibbling his lips, slightly furrowing his eyebrows. “are you sure you want to talk about that now?”
you give jake an innocent look while you nod playfully, “sorry, just too nosy.” you chuckle, hoping to not ruin everything with this topic.
“when i said i’ve been trying to approach you for a while i was serious. it’s just sunghoon makes things a bit complicated.” jake confesses.
you remain quiet, digesting what he's saying with growing unhealthy curiosity.
“everyone knows you're just friends, but it’s like, it doesn’t matter to him, he’s keeping you to himself and has made that very clear to the other guys at uni.”
your blood temperature drops slightly. “seriously?”
jake nods and continues. “if i remember correctly, there was even a story where he threatened a guy who hit on you at a party. according to some versions, they even got physical. ”
jungwon. you directly think of him, but there is no way this is true ?
in front of your bewildered face, jake hastens to add “i'm not trying to ruin your friendship with him y/n, i'm just telling you what i saw and heard. also experienced.” he swallows and then smiles bitterly as he recalls the scene. “i already tried to approach you at a student party some months ago, but i barely had time to take a few steps toward you before i felt a hand holding me back by the shoulder. it was sunghoon.” he reveals and wow, you're blown away.
even if you don’t want to trust any of the word you’re hearing, something tells you that jake likely isn't lying. but how come in all that time, two whole years, you never caught wind of this? are you this oblivious or is sunghoon just that good at concealing everything?
in your head, and from what you've always seen at parties, sunghoon has always been busy picking up girls, like he doesn’t have a single second to spare for you. so, keeping guys from getting close to you?
and even if that is the case, to what end?
you know you're beating around the bush. you know it perfectly well, but you really don't want to believe…. whatever this is:
that your best friend has been eyeing you up all this time and purposely sabotaging your love life.
you sense unease welling up inside you, so you decide to forget about sunghoon and concentrate on jake again.
even if all this bullshit might be true, so what?
it's not like you're interested in sunghoon in any way other than as a friend. or so you tell yourself.
“so what i’m getting from that, my best friend might beat your ass later, but you still decided to try your luck with me again?”
jake is a little taken aback, not expecting this kind of silly response from you after everything he just shared. nevertheless, he's greatly relieved and lets you know with yet one more of his signature (perfect) smile.
“right, that’s right. at first i chickened out when i saw him all over you; i didn’t want to meddle in your whatever is going on between you”. he sighs softly before continuing, “but i don't know, you're the only girl at uni who actually makes my eyes linger, no one else really catches my attention. and since sunghoon doesn't seem ready to take things to the next level with you, i figured i might as well go for it.”
his words warm your heart as much as they cold it with the part involving sunghoon, but you stay focused on the positive, which is jake.
“also, even though i’ve rarely fought in my life, i’m not afraid anyway. i think you’re worth the fight.” he adds.
that part makes you giggle and blush, nearly making you choke on the beer you're drinking in one gulp. you awkwardly wipe your lips, before going back to flirting with him.
“okay, that’s kinda sexy mr. sim”
he laughs heartily and thanks you playfully with one hand on his heart, thus completing your date with him.
jake insists on paying for the whole dinner since he's the one who invited you, and you realize that you're no longer used to such gesture since you're always the one who pays for sunghoon.
for a man who promised to repay you five times over, the amount of things he owes you keeps piling up.
the drive back to your place is just as nice and melodic as the date.
jake's car is big, shiny, and smells brand-new—a perfect reflection of his income. you feel at ease with him, and your eyes feast on his perfectly sculpted profile.
once you arrive in front of your building, he hurries to open the door for you like a gentleman, offering his hand as he helps you out. but even after he closes the door, your hands remain linked.
you walk toward the front door together at a slow pace, both of you quietly trying to stretch the date until the very last minute.
at the front door, your footsteps falter and your bodies naturally turn toward each other. you can tell from the gentle pressure on your fingers that jake doesn’t want to let you go. you give each other nervous smiles and bright-eyed glances, and jake finally breaks the sweet silence.
“if that’s okay with you, i’d really like us to go on a second date. something more romantic this time.”
you feel like you're walking on air, your heart is pounding: it's everything you've been hoping for over the past two years. obviously you immediately agree to his invitation: “that sounds wonderful, i’d really love to,” as you reciprocate the soft pressure of his hand, interlacing your fingers with his.
the warm tension suddenly builds; you don't need to say the words—your eyes say it all. his head moves closer to yours just as you slightly stand on your tiptoes, your lips irresistibly drawing nearer and nearer.
you’re about to kiss when a certain cough suddenly interrupts the romantic moment.
your eyelids, which had slowly closed during the moment, flutter open, making you frown slightly. but you notice jake staring intently at your lips, determined to kiss you, so you attempt to get back into the mood and shut your eyes again. but the cough resumes, this time much louder, definitively ruining the kiss.
sighing in exasperation, you both look up to see who’s fucking interrupting.
when you recognize sunghoon’s familiar features on the balcony of your apartment, staring right into your soul, completely ignoring jake just a few inches away, your eyes widen.
for a second, you think you’re hallucinating: what the hell is that little bastard doing there and what exactly does he think he’s doing right now?
seeing your face contort with frustration and your gaze that could kill sunghoon a hundred times over, jake draws you back to him by shaking your hand. he tries to reassure you sweetly, “it’s alright, next time, okay.” but his eyes seem to say, “see how right i was about him?” which only makes you even more furious inside.
after one last squeeze of your fingers and a tender smile that pierces your chest, jake lets go of your hand and starts stepping away from you. “see you at college, y/n,” he calls over his shoulder.
your stomach twists with regret as you watch him get back into his car, start the engine, and drive away from your place.
your little bubble has just burst into a thousand pieces because of sunghoon, and when you look back at your balcony, his figure has vanished. of course, once he got what he wanted.
you rush toward the entrance, your keys rattling in time with your frantic mood; you don't even wait for the elevator and storm up the three flights of stairs.
your door is already ajar; sunghoon is waiting patiently for you and your wrath. you regret giving him your code as you slam the door behind you.
he's smoking a cigarette on your leather couch, his designated bed, acting like he doesn't give a damn when deep down you know now jealousy is eating him up; he can't run away from the truth anymore, not after the shit he pulled.
“didn't you tell me yesterday that you didn't want to be the reason i don’t get laid?” repeating his damn line, word for word.
sunghoon doesn't answer; he just stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray nearby, blowing smoke without meeting your furious gaze.
“i haven't seen you all day sunghoon, you were nowhere to be found, didn’t open my texts, didn’t pick up my calls, but suddenly you show up? at my place, without even letting me know? what kind of game are you playing?”
he stands up at last, measuredly draging himself towards your figure. towering over you, sunghoon locks his black piercing eyes with yours. “i’m playing no games y/n, not with you.”
you let out a dry, humorless laugh. carried away by your emotions, and reminiscing about your discussion with jake, you decide to spill everything, exposing the harsh truth he'd been hiding from you.
“i was told you’ve been having fun pulling the strings of my love life for the past two years and you have the fucking nerve to say that?”
realizing that you know everything, sunghoon freezes for a few seconds.
then, unconsciously, he takes another step closer to you.
the urge to put some distance between you is overwhelming, but you don't budge an inch. you refuse to let him know how much his words and actions mess with your head.
“every time i see any guy near you, it drives me fucking insane” the seriousness in his voice and the possessiveness in his gaze tell you he's not fucking joking.
sunghoon means every word, and that only makes everything worse.
you gasp in disbelief that he would admit so openly, just like that, and let out another cold laugh right to his face.
“but what gives you the right to do that? we're just best friends, sunghoon, best friends,” you insist. “why won't you let me be with someone?”
now it's sunghoon's turn to let out a low, amused chuckle, his gaze never leaving yours. “do you really need me to answer that, y/n?" he murmurs, his voice quieter this time. you feel him move closer again, until the distance between you becomes almost nonexistent.
his warmth surrounds you, the one you’ve been foolishly cherishing for over twenty four months. "i'm sure you already know what this is all about.”
you're speechless. for real.
you can't believe what's happening.
for two long years you thought you were on the same page as your best friend, fully trusting him when it comes to you, when all this time his intentions toward you were… wrong, completely wrong.
did sunghoon ever consider you a friend ?
you feel played, you feel toyed.
perhaps that's what you deserve for deciding to befriend a womanizer. you feel stupid for thinking you were different in his eyes, that you were just purely his friend.
such a good actor. perhaps he should consider making a career out of acting instead of wasting his time failing his studies.
your so-called best friend had you completely fooled; played his part perfectly, earning your utmost trust, while he was romantically screwing you over without you knowing.
and you realize, how naive you were.
not only did he want you like any other girl, but you were also probably the biggest fish he’d been trying to catch.
“okay, okay.” everything is too much, you take a step back from him, barely holding yourself together. you laugh nervously to yourself, running your hand through your hair in frustration.
you kinda want to cry, throw a massive fit in your apartment, but you hold back your tears because that jerk doesn't deserve them. “so tell me now sunghoon, what exactly do you want from me?”
you don't even dare look at sunghoon anymore, feeling ridiculous.
you should have stepped back further from him, because his left hand manages to gently take hold of your fingers, burning away the inches between you once more; while his right one shamelessly reaches for your cheek, his long fingers lightly brushing against it.
“all this time, i’ve been only wanting one thing y/n” he whispers, “you, just you“ his voice is far too intimate, far too tempting. you hate the way his words gets under your skin, hate that, despite everything, your body betrays you.
you feel shivers running down your skin, your heartbeat racing in your chest, your cheeks flushing a red tinged with nervousness and... anger.
anger that takes hold of you and you abruptly yank sunghoon's hand away, shoving him back.
“but it's not mutual, sunghoon. why would i want you when i literally know everything about you?" you're harsh, with a touch of contempt, forcing yourself to remain fierce and convincing, because… it's true, damn it.
“i don’t want to end up as one of your desperate fucks, i don’t even want to give you a chance! do you understand that!?” your voice rises, you feel yourself getting carried away. perhaps more than you should... perhaps, betraying an unknowable part of your heart, one that has subconsciously already envisioned sunghoon as more than just your best friend, but knew it was useless to even consider.
after those cold but warranted words, silence falls over the room, disrupted only by the sound of your heavy breathing. his complete lack of reaction forces you to look at him.
you expect him to be hurt or look offended, but no... this bastard is smiling?
your eyebrows arch and your face contorts with disbelief. “what’s so funny? have you lost it? are you crazy?”
his smile turns into a quiet chuckle, without any real malice, “crazy for you? maybe.”
you purse your lips, close your eyes in frustration as you let out a heavy sigh of exasperation. he’s not serious, he’s not fucking serious.
“stop this shit sunghoon, i’m begging.”
you wish you could turn back time to before all this arguing, before all this confessing happened. you were much better off not knowing anything about his true intentions.
“let's just stay friends.” your voice comes out almost pained. “why do you have to ruin everything? wasn't what we had nice?”
you bury your face in your hands for a few seconds, not knowing what to do about all this whole mess, about him.
being the persistent, pretty man that he is, once again, you sense sunghoon trying to close the distance between you again.
you straighten up right away, taking more than one step back this time, shielding yourself safe from him in every possible way.
“anyway, let's stop here sunghoon, let’s take some distance.”
“y/n listen, i waited two years-“ sunghoon begins, in a serious tone as he tries to explain himself.
but you cut him off right away, raising a limp hand between the two of you, refusing to meet his eyes. you don’t believe he’s being sincere with you, and even if he were, you don’t want him. not like this.
“come back to me when you’re ready to be my best friend again.”
you walk toward the door decisively and open it for him; your emotionally drained demeanor signals to him the way out—not just from your home, but also from your life, for now.
you can't bear to look at him anymore because you know you could get swayed by his pleading puppy eyes, especially when you can feel sunghoon unwavering gaze on your vulnerable silhouette.
sunghoon lets out frustrated sounds, his eyebrows furrowing as his knuckles ache. he bites the inside of his cheek, just like he does whenever things don't work out the way he wants.
you sense that he wants to fight back, doesn’t want to leave before making things clear with you.
but your refusal is plain, and your best friend knows that if he doesn’t want to lose you for good, he can’t be any more disrespectful.
although sunghoon is the one walking out the door reluctantly, this time it's not him who's running away, but you.
you try to go about your life as usual: you wake up, grab your coffee before heading to college, focus deeply on your classes, study hard for the upcoming end-of-year exams. you try to convince yourself that everything is fine. fine.
but after two long weeks, you now have to conceal the dark circles under your eyes every morning, deal with migraines that torment you almost every day.
getting out of bed is tough, the coffee you drink leaves a bitter taste on your lips. you're bored in class and only pay attention because you have to, for your scholarship. you tell your parents that the reason they haven't heard from you lately is because you're busy studying hard for your final exams, when the truth is that you're spending entire evenings drowning in your studies just so you don't have to think about that night, don't have to think about him.
sunghoon.
you knew you spent most of your time with him, but you had no idea just how much of a part of your daily life he was, nor how much his absence from your days would leave such a void. he played the role of your best friend so well that you’ve long since drifted away from your first acquaintances at college. you just… didn’t need them when you had him (and jay), but now ? now.
you’re alone, so tremendously alone, the loneliness making you dwell everything. your heart aches.
your best friend's betrayal is too much to handle, feels like a breakup. you’re starting to regret it; perhaps you shouldn’t have kicked him out of your home without letting him explain himself, perhaps you shouldn’t have pushed him out of your life when you had every reason to…
for god's sake, for two years sunghoon had been dishonest, screwed up your love life behind your back out of unwarranted possessiveness.
before you cut him, sunghoon mentioned that he had waited two years. but two years for which reason? what result?
didn’t he say himself, with his own very mouth, that he’s incapable of falling in love? are you just supposed to consciously give yourself to a player and trust him to treat you right, when he never behaved correctly before with any of his countless lovers? like ok you might have been naive about his intentions toward you, but you’re not that stupid yet to become one more body count.
honestly, you can't even possibly imagine that sunghoon would want anything from you other than to keep his bed warm (or in this case, your damn bed) until he found his next girl.
you can't picture a scenario where he'd actually want to go out with you properly, with the respect and love you seek, without a looming deadline the moment he starts developing feelings for you.
so why does remorse gnaw at your stomach so much?
it’s easy, it’s simple… because despite knowing the harsh truth, despite the broken trust, you miss sunghoon. a lot.
everything hurts, your daily life is dull, devoid of any fun. of him.
however, you're nowhere near ready to admit that you miss this pretty asshole.
a pretty asshole whom you haven't really run into much since your argument, if you can even call that an argument since it was pretty much one-sided on your end.
in any case, you've noticed that sunghoon skips class even more often, rarely seeing him there. since you know him so well (or so you thought), you're aware he's not avoiding you because he wants to, but because you asked him to.
you sometimes catch a glimpse of him from afar with jay. you have no idea how he’s been doing, and it’s eating away at you more than you’d like.
you've also caught wind of gossip, that he seems to have taken a break from… women. and since you stopped partying on saturday nights, you have even fewer chances to run into him and ask him. (even though that's currently the worst thing you could do if you want to maintain your little crushed dignity.)
however, the more days go by, the more you lose confidence in yourself, in what remains of your friendship; you can no longer tell if he plans to come back into your life when he's ready, or if he's actually decided to walk away from you for good. and you won’t lie, that last possibility is killing you inside.
in the midst of your emotional distress, that’s when jake appeared like an angel, or rather, reappeared. because he sent you a bunch of texts, and you replied but only halfheartedly. three words at most.
you had no energy and he obviously sensed it. that’s why, after two weeks of noticing that you were alone and not doing well even though you try to keep up a normal facade, jake came to your locker, just like the first time he approached you.
he took the liberty of intertwining his fingers with yours to take you somewhere else, to take your mind off things.
jake is such a nice guy, an extra nice guy. but the more time you spend with him, the more you feel like you don't deserve a guy like him. because you ended up going on other dates after he sweetly asked, and you finally kissed. in fact, you do it every now and then, when the mood feels right; quick pecks, deeper kisses. but unlike the night of your first date, you don't feel that rush, you don't have butterflies in your stomach.
you had convinced yourself before that a simple, risk-free romantic relationship was what you needed.
so why is your heart refusing to cooperate with your head?
it makes you sad, frustrated because despite your repeated attempts, you can’t reciprocate jake’s enthusiasm, jake's loveliness. it remains unspoken between you, but you both know very well whose fault it is.
you weren't even dating him, you were just his best friend, so why do you have this ridiculous feeling in your chest !?
and the worst part is that jake is perfectly aware, yet he doesn’t push to define your relationship, respecting your emotional state. which only makes you feel even more guilty toward him: you feel like you’re using him to get over a certain someone, and he’s willingly letting you do it.
especially that one night on saturday, when jake invited you to a party, figuring you needed to have some fun. but fun was over the moment you saw him.
sunghoon.
as soon as you walked into the house holding jake's hand, as if you were a magnet, his magnet, sunghoon dark eyes fell on you, then on your intertwined fingers. there was barely any emotion in his gaze, just a chilling emptiness, with a faint trace of jealousy buried beneath it.
and yet, as you watched him move away from his little corner by the wall and disappear into the mass of folks dancing and drinking, probably to find jay, you still had that nagging feeling that you were being unfaithful to him… even though it didn't make any fucking sense.
you started coming up with crazy theories, like, one of sunghoon's girls must have been a witch and had cast a curse on you. because ever since your argument, you hadn't been yourself, like you had been really really absurd, especially when it came to him.
was that what it meant to be in denial?
you were sneering at your own misfortune.
had you fallen in love with sunghoon over the past two years, but had just pushed those ideas out of your healthy mental system because, in your eyes, it was inconceivable for the two of you to be together? for you to be into that kind of erratic person? too unbelievable that your steady self could be drawn to a such a troubling man?
maybe you had this savior complex within all along and it just went unnoticed by you.
what a mess.
and you didn't know why, possibly because the sudden realization was so uncomfortable, clutching your chest tightly, that you decided to be a real stupid bitch to feel better (or worse), letting your impulsiveness and drunkenness take control of the situation.
you were sitting on the couch with jake, responding to the conversation he was leading with a half-baked smile, because you were doing your best to ignore yet another sunghoon’s insistent gaze as he stood in a new corner of the party room, his eyes practically screaming, “i want to talk to you.” and your feminine self, currently devoid of dignity, wanted to stupidly give in.
you couldn't help but sneak a discreet peek at your (ex) best friend, noticing that he was politely turning down every girl who came up to talk to him (and there were tons of them, 100 times prettier than you). but the moment he let one of them get a little too close to his ear, likely whispering some trivial stuff to each other, anyway, the mere sight of their faces just a few centimeters apart had you losing your shit for the first time.
there's no way the guy responsible for messing with your brain would try to flirt with a pretty girl right in front of you—not in a million years. it was okay before, you couldn't care less when you were still normal best friends, but after all that selfish confession? no fucking way.
so, without warning, you grabbed jake by the collar, cutting him off mid-sentence, and pressed your lips against his, catching him off guard. it was one of those really dirty kisses to piss off someone, where you nibbled on his lower lip and slipped your tongue into his mouth just as he gave out a little moan. you let yourself go completely, without holding back.
at first, jake went along with it, because he is, after all, a man and specifically one who's really into you. but he had to pull himself back to reality, because he knew that if you were suddenly acting like this, turning him on in open space, it was for a reason—and, alas, he wasn't that reason.
you were taking advantage of his liking for you, but jake didn't want to take advantage of your distress, any longer, so he gently pats you on the back of the head, signaling for you to stop. at his gentle, indicative gesture, you pulled your lips away from his, opened your eyes again, and there—what you saw: the acceptance in his gaze, the silent pain.
it hit you so hard, you felt terrible, incredibly guilty. jake had always been so good to you, and yet, you… you.
seeing your sudden panic, jake had started stroking the back of your head softly again. “you don’t have to feel sorry, y/n. i’m not to be pitied, not at all.” he let out a small, sad laugh, one that souded like someone who realized he had lost you even before anything concrete could take shape between you. “we can't control our hearts, okay?”
you felt like crying because jake was so perfect, the dream boyfriend you'd always wanted and he was literally at your door. it was so frustrating to watch him walking away from your sentimental house because feelings aren't something you can choose.
your foolish heart had visibly set its sights instead on that unreliable, broke guy who broke hearts as if he were paid to do it.
“maybe, at some point, there will be a time for us—or maybe not. anyway, let's stay friends for now, y/n,” he continued, ending your situationship in the most delicate way imaginable. you nodded weakly in agreement, letting yourself be soothed by the gentle caress of his hand.
“as my first act as your official friend,” jake said, still smiling, though his eyes glistened with annoyance, his fingers reluctantly letting go of the back of your head, “believe me, it hurts to give you this advice, especially since this fucker doesn’t deserve it.” you giggled at his remark, able to guess what he was about to say: “go talk to him, but… don’t do it for him—do it for yourself, and think about what you really want.” and with one last bittersweet sigh of resignation, jake turned the final page of your brief love story.
and you’d taken jake’s advice; your uneasy, heavy footsteps had led you toward the restroom, because you knew sunghoon had seen the whole thing: the messy kiss to piss him off. you knew he was tracking signs like a dog, that he’d follow your trail because the chance to talk to you had finally presented itself to him like a gift from heaven (or more like hell).
and before you’d even reached the restroom (you’d never actually planned to go there), you felt a large hand grab you roughly and drag you from behind, drawing you into an adjacent room, what appeared to be a sort of mini-library, completely empty and far from the hustle of the party.
just like on the night of your argument, all you could hear right now was the sound of your breathing. you were still facing away from him, and he still hadn't let go of your hand, holding it as if it were something precious.
despite the earlier unease, in the end, his familiar presence was relaxing, and his signature woody scent, so uniquely his, helped calm your nerves.
sunghoon.
“look at me,” he asked in a low, hoarse voice—a tone that suggested he hadn't been well for some time.
and you weren't difficult at that moment.
you listened and turned around, because you wanted to, and jake told you to think about what you wanted.
seeing his gorgeous face again up close after 21 days immediately lifted a weight off your heart; those three weeks had felt like three months, it had genuinely been so emotionally draining to you.
you moved a little closer, your fingers naturally lacing with his. now that you could see his eyes closely, you could tell he was just as tired as you were.
you wanted to ask him, “was it all worth it?” but in reality, yes, it probably was. or at least, that’s what you hoped.
you didn’t even know anymore.
then your tired tender gaze fell on his right cheek, drawn to those unsightly colours that were gradually fading: a bruise that was a few days old. "is it her again?" he nodded silently, a bitter smile on his face, then explained. "jay got a girlfriend, so i went to my mom. she's as charming as ever."
your heart sank immediately, and you felt sorry. if sunghoon had been beaten again by that horrible woman, it was indirectly your fault. you’d kicked him out of your house too hastily, without thinking it through properly, and if he didn't have jay's, all he had left was her nightmarish place.
“y/n, please, don't make that face. don't take the blame for my mom's actions. ”
but your chest grew even heavier, so without thinking, the alcohol easing your restraint slightly, you pulled sunghoon toward you and pushed him into your arms. caught off guard, his tall frame fell heavily on top of you. but within seconds, he hurried to lift himself up and give you a tight, proper hug.
sunghoon immediately breathed in the scent of your hair, feeding on that scent as if it were oxygen. finally.
"i missed you", he whispered sincerely in your ear.
you had missed him too. so much.
instead of answering him out loud, you burried your cheek against his muscular, comforting chest.
for what felt like a long minute, you held each other tight, reconnecting in every sense of the word.
after that, there was an awkward silence. you could feel sunghoon tensing up slightly as you held each other.
then, clearing his throat softly, he tentatively asked you, "can i be your best friend again?"
your eyes widened slightly; you weren't expecting that, especially not after coming to terms with your feelings for him.
knowing sunghoon's persistence though, you knew he had no intention of giving up (someone like him wouldn't change personality in three weeks, let's be real) yet the fact that he respected your wish from that night, no matter how long he'd last, melted your heart in that very moment.
you were fully aware that after all this, things could never go back to the way they were before between you, but whatever, you wanted to see how long his little best friend charade would last, perhaps it was your turn to have the upper hand.
in any case, you’d already decided to stake everything on what he hadn't promised you yet. like an moth flying straight into the flames and nonetheless, you no longer cared because… as stupid as it sounds, it felt good. you felt good.
after your heartfelt reunion, you decided to sneak out of the party, snatching two bottles of hard liquor along the way.
you walked back to your place like drunken teenagers (since you’d come in jake’s car and sunghoon had ridden on jay’s motorcycle). luckily, it was only a 30-minute walk to your apartment. you spent half the walk on his back, when you weren’t busy challenging each other to finish the bottle or play-fighting like two idiotic kids.
you didn't know how you'd managed to get home in one piece, since you couldn't walk without his support. but the thing is, sunghoon was pretty wasted too, so when he stumbled right in the middle of your living room, struggling to leave your shoes by the entrance, the two of you crashed heavily onto the plush carpet.
half on top of each other on the floor, your drunken laughter echoed through the room. crushing sunghoon with all your weight even though it didn't bother him—quite the contrary, you struggled to lift yourself off him before rolling over with a small thud, your back finally resting against the mat as well.
your laughter began to fade, lingering as slight, euphoric smiles on your rosy-cheeked faces.
at the same time, as if in some kind of psychic connection, you both turned to face each other.
staring into each other’s eyes with tenderness, your chest rising and falling softly, you lost yourself in the beauty of your best friend, sublimated by the glow of the streetlights reflecting through your apartment window : his soulful eyes, his long lashes, his sculpted nose, his graceful moles. even his bruised cheek was taking nothing away from his beauty. then there were his luscious lips, so perfectly shaped, stretched into a loving smile.
it was no surprise that all these beautiful women were fighting over this man.
could he one day truly be yours?
lost in your daydreams, you could feel fatigue setting in—not just from the evening, but also… sunghoon. you didn’t know if you’d have a happy ending together.
but it was useless to overthink everything and give yourself more headaches; there was no turning back.
you had no idea just how alive sunghoon felt at that moment. after three weeks of feeling dead inside, deprived of you. deprived of your easygoing company, your little “i-know-it-all” smiles, your carefree laughs, your refreshing honesty.
it had been two years now, and you were the only one who’d managed to warm his heart when no one else did. and he’d never known how to deal with… with this. he couldn’t even put a name to it at first: feelings, feelings of… possession? love?
and when he finally figured it out, came to terms with, it was even worse. because sunghoon had convinced himself he was incapable of falling in love, had even confidently confessed it to you.
his mother had successfully damaged him. sunghoon refused to open up to anyone, to hand over the keys to his heart to someone. he didn’t trust women but still needed their affection. and their money; the vain, wealthy daughters being the ones around whom he felt least guilty about being a total scum.
but you, you were clearly different.
sunghoon didn't feel that fear around you. he could be vulnerable without worry.
maybe because you knew every little thing about him, the good but especially the bad. yet, the thought of ever abandoning him had never crossed your mind.
however, a woman like you would never want a man like him.
despite your cool appareance and laid-back personality, you were fairly kind of flawless (it’s possible you weren’t, and that his affection for you clouded his judgment but he didn’t care).
whereas, he was the very embodiment of failure. you’d already told him everything about the dream boyfriend you wanted, and sunghoon was so far from it, thousands of kilometers away in hell.
since he didn’t know how to change, how to become the right one for you, sunghoon acted like a dick. that was the easiest, and weakest, way to deal with his own frustration.
he was nasty, he was selfish, he was insecure, he was a rainbow of flaws. he couldn’t bear to see other guys showing interest in the girl who should have been his, if fate hadn't decided to torment him.
sunghoon had always wanted to be more than just your best friend, yes. sunghoon had gone behind your back when his misguided heart was consumed by jealousy and sourness, yes.
all of this was true and he still couldn’t feel any remorse. that was simply his rotten nature: a bad man, without redeeming qualities, that you had accepted into your life, for better or for worse.
but no matter how many beautiful women he had in his pathetic life, you were the most beautiful in his eyes, the most radiant.
a shadow drawn to a soothing light.
sunghoon only wanted you.
over those two years, he'd done his fucking best to restrain himself, having no idea where he found the strength not to never attempt to do something, to never try kissing your pretty lips.
sunghoon knew damn well he didn’t deserve you even slightest, but fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, his selfishness was strong enough to no longer care about that (the final straw being jake—thanks dude).
sunghoon had enough love experience to be certain of one thing now: if it weren't you, it’d never work.
lulled by the sublime features of your best friend and his warm aura radiating off you, far from the chaos of his thoughts regarding you, your eyelids began to close peacefully.
but before you fell completely asleep, you heard sunghoon, in a relieved voice, whispering to you, "thank you y/n, for giving me a chance."
your heavy slumber is shattered by the smell of something cooking—or rather, something burning.
opening your eyes is a struggle, your head throbbing right away. the previous night's excesses have left their aftermath.
when your eyelids eventually open, a view of your room comes into focus; your last memories are yourself lying drunk on your soft rug, staring at… sunghoon.
sunghoon.
is he the one who carried your sleeping self to your room and put you to bed?
you decide to find out the answer by dragging yourself out of bed and heading to the living room. but before you do, you notice a glass of water and a pill that is probably meant to relieve your headache. you also note that you're in your usual pajamas.
did sunghoon do all this?
you swallow the pill and slip on your slippers. you head to the bathroom for a minute, then, you let the smell of food lead the way.
you come across a scene of your best friend at the stove, holding a frying pan and apparently cooking eggs. you notice his black tank top, gray sweatpants and black cap worn backwards; clothes he’d left at your place.
you almost laugh at yourself over the fact that hoe didn’t waste any time settling in again.
focused on the eggs, sunghoon doesn't hear you approaching. so you sneak up behind him silently to surprise him. now facing his broad back, you suddenly imagine how nice it'd feel to wrap your arms around his slim waist. especially every morning—confirming your real and shameful attraction to your best friend.
"you know how to cook eggs?" sunghoon instantly jumps at the sound of your voice, his eyes following your every movement as you step over to stand beside him at the stove, giggling cutely. your gaze falls on the gentle smile playing on his lips, then lingers on the manly stubble dusting his chin.
sunghoon feels like he's in heaven, surrounded by an angel. the way you've grown comfortable around him again makes his heart swell with joy.
he can barely believe you've actually forgiven him, and he wonders if you aren't some kind of divine gift, his redemption after all these years wandering in the dark.
"know is a big word, i'm trying my best to make breakfast for my perfect… best friend."
he hesitates over his last few words, and and you look at him with quiet amusement; you're genuinely curious to see how long sunghoon will last before his patience shatters into a thousand pieces.
and you have no intention of making it easy for him.
after setting aside the overcooked eggs, sunghoon gets everything ready to cook some bacon.
you watch him silently, and when you feel the strap of your tank top slip, you just let it fall.
you drift closer to sunghoon again, your arm lightly brushing his, as if by accident. he stays calm on the surface, though the slight tension in his shoulders already gives him away.
as your petty game continues, you rest both arms on the kitchen counter and draw them in just enough that the movement presses your breasts together, making them peek out from the neckline of your tank top.
you pretend to be attentive on what he’s making, letting your breath linger against his shoulder. you notice him lose his concentration slightly: sunghoon eyes wander between the bacon in the pan and your much more appetizing cleavage.
he clears his throat and does his best to stay focused.
how amusing.
but sunghoon is far from oblivious, especially in this regard. so before the bacon ends up burning because of you, he immediately turns off the stove.
you look at him curiously, your eyes sparkling with mischief and a look that says, “why did you stop cooking?”
but instead of answering, your best friend looks at you and asks : "y/n, what are you doing?"
you bite back a laugh, keeping your expression as innocent as possible. "mh? what do you mean?” you murmur, clearly enjoying his reaction.
but then, unable to resist the urge to provoke him, you lean further into the game and openly tease sunghoon with a knowing smile. “i'm just doing what you're the best at… i guess."
you feel content, you feel smart. but this lasts only 5 seconds. as soon as what you said sinks into his brain, sunghoon’s demeanor shifts. his eyebrows arch playfully, he runs his tongue against the inside of his cheek, while he straightens his shoulders.
without looking at you, the corners of his mouth start to turn up in a predatory smile, revealing his two fangs.
you swallow.
dangerous territory you shouldn’t have ventured into—the dormant wolf has just woken up and… it’s time for you to escape.
you adjust your shoulder strap casually and take a few quiet steps toward the living room, but sunghoon, who’s been eying you closely, grabs your wrist right way and pulls you flush against him.
“where do you think you’re going?”
an arm wraps around your upper body, trapping you against his muscular chest. you have an incredible view of his delicious bicep, but you force yourself to stay focused, as your pride is still on the line.
"let me go sunghoon", you try to break free, however, truth is, you're exactly where you want to be.
"i won't, not this time" sunghoon says in your ear unwavering, his lips brushing against your earlobe.
"don't make me repeat myself", you attempt to sound persuasive, even biting his arm—letting your intrusive thoughts winning over, to get him to release you.
without success.
sunghoon hisses a bit but lets you have your way with his bicep. “i lied yesterday, i'm not ready to be your friend again".
at his shameless words, your jaw loosens, releasing the skin off his arm, and you stop your feigned struggling.
wow, less than 24 hours. you’d expected sunghoon would last a bit more than that, but nope.
"of course you're not", you chuckle softly, tinged with sarcasm. "and you'll never be ready by the way. you've been my best friend for two years and you think i don't know how that brain of yours work ?"
sunghoon lets you go at once and grips your shoulders, turning you to face him. his eyebrows lift in surprise, and his dark eyes widen.
this might be the first time you've seen sunghoon with such a solemn expression, but the amused smile on your face doesn't fade nonetheless. you're enjoying your brief dominance over the situation. you feel kind of good, in a strangely satisfying way, after you were left with no choice to quickly digest how he has been behaving behind your back for the past two years.
"are you playing with me right now ?"
a question that hits a little too close to home… and you deliberately don't answer him right away, giving him a taste of his own medicine with a wry look that says, “what do you think?”
he takes a deep breath and continues his questioning. you can sense that the rope of his patience is about to snap.
“didn't you say you'd never fall for me?”
and now it's your turn to widen your eyes in surprise, as you recall the scene with that random nosy girl who was wondering about the two of you at a party. "how do you know that?"
sunghoon gives a faint shake of his head, as if recalling the memory, a bitter smile tugging at his lips: “i was just behind you at that time. was about to ask you to dance with me. but then i heard what you said and.. i got upset, so i just went to find some girl and well, you know what happened after.”
you immediately tap his chest, unable to hide the fond amusement in your expression despite your exasperation. “park sunghoon, you’re really hopeless.”
the mention of his full name makes him giggle, and his features melt into an adorable eye smile. but then, sunghoon’s face turns serious again, “i have a lot to say; listen to me till the end ok?”
his hands travel down from your shoulders delicately along your arms to intertwine your fingers together, as if he were ready to intertwine your destinies.
“that night, i said i waited two years for you… well, when you came into my life, everything was normal at first. you were my new confidante, my partner in crime” sunghoon begins, chucking softly. “nothing more i promise you. but i got so comfortable around you, let my guard down like i never did with any woman before, and before i could realize i started to want more.”
you look into sunghoon eyes and squeeze your joined hands tightly. you want to believe what he’s saying, you want to trust the shimmer in his orb; you sincerely pray he isn't deceiving you.
“you were so good to me despite all my flaws, and my brain kept repeating—where else would i find someone like you ? the shit my mum said before, that no one could truly ever love me. i knew you could this person, the one to prove her wrong.”
you can feel the heaviness in his heart, and it weighs down yours.
“however, i couldn’t do shit about it so i tried to drop… this whole idea. you know, i thought it was just a physical attraction that i could repress and would eventually fade, but then when i saw those men hungry for you, when i watched you kiss that guy,”
that guy… jungwon right.
“with how pissed i was, i figured out that what i was feeling was way more serious. but anyway, you only liked me as a friend, and you’d never in a million years want a scumbag like me for anything else. so i was in a dead end, forcing myself to keep playing your bestie despite how crazy i was for you.”
you listen to him silently and breathe out; the intensity of his confession making you feel like you're racing a marathon.
“running after girls was originally a way to feel better about how miserable my mum made me. but later, it became a way to release my frustration since i couldn’t… have you. and since i’m literally the worse,” sunghoon sneers bitterly as he recounts his own mischief. “it wasn’t enough so i just started to wreck your love life, keeping all these bastards far from you, because if i couldn’t have you then, no one else could”
well damn. that was a lot to take.
“to be honest, i don’t know what made you change your mind about me because i’m still my irredeemable self, but i want you to know that none of these women were right because they weren't you.”
this time you’re breathing in deeply. oh.
“y/n, i want to try something with you, will you give me that chance ?”
you swallow nervously and feel your heart pounding in your eardrums.
few weeks ago, you had spat your venom right in sunghoon’s face, swearing that you would never give him a chance to someone like him. you don’t exactly regret what you said because your feelings were valid, but the irony of it all makes you feel a little ridiculous, since it’s painfully obvious that you’ve already changed your mind.
so you decide to muster up your courage and confront sunghoon about your more than justified worries.
“you dropped so many girls, many that weren’t even bad persons and were, for sure, willing to love you entirely. why exactly would i be different ?”
your best friend brings one of your hands to his lips, plants a chaste kiss on it, and then presses it against his chest, where his heart beats loudly for you.
“because what i feel for you is different.”
he got game, sunghoon got game. for a man who doesn’t do romance, he truly has a way with words.
your eyebrows furrow and your head starts to ache. it's so hard, so damn hard to think carefully. particularly after his heartfelt, raw declaration.
and above all, when sunghoon looks at you with those eyes: so deep, so full of hope, glowing so beautifully…. standing before you is a man who knows exactly how to use every of his features to convince someone.
sunghoon is clouding your judgement, as he has done so many times before.
so, can you really trust him ?
faced with your deafening silence and your obvious inner turmoil, sunghoon promises.
“may i end like my mum if i lied today”
you let out an exasperated sigh when you hear that, and can't help but snicker. there's really something wrong with his head. but still, by saying that, sunghoon is probably not lying. but the question now is, how can you know he won't change his mind later?
“you’re crazy.”
“yes, crazy for you.”
again this corny reply. you drop his left hand and give him a nudge in the stomach.
after biting back the little groan of pain, sunghoon laughs freely.
then you watch his gaze drifts away from your eyes to focus on your parched lips.
you feel heat creeping up your neck. this clever bastard really plans to win you over with his greatest asset.
“can i kiss you ? and if you don’t like it, i’ll leave you alone ?”
as expected.
you chuckle again. as if he’d leave you alone after tasting the forbidden fruit he has denied himself all this time.
you nod cautiously, but you're caught off guard because not even a second goes by before sunghoon grabs your nape to meet your lips, the motion causing his cap to fall to the floor.
oh. he was really hungry.
sunghoon's lips are soft and plump, pressing perfectly against yours; he tries to restrain himself, but through every touch, you can feel his despair, his longing. he's been dying to kiss you for way too long.
quickly, sunghoon grows greedier, claiming your mouth entirely, barely allowing you to breathe.
your knees grow faint and lose your balance. he pulls you closer, wrapping his arm smoothly around your waist. sunghoon bites your lower lip without mercy, and the moment you let out a little whimper of pain, he pushes his tongue into the heat of your mouth.
the kiss gets messy, saliva mixes sloppily almost obscenely. he bites your flesh, bites your tongue, again and again. sunghoon explores your mouth hungrily and you feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.
the rumors were right, he's really good at his stuff. fuck.
after what feels like forever, he finally releases your lips. you can already feel them swelling from how roughly he kissed you.
sunghoon really put those two years of craving into that first kiss.
“so, how was it?”
still trapped in his embrace, his sculpted nose brushing against yours, you try to regain your composure. embarrassedly, you wipe the excess drool from your lower lip with your thumb.
“i excepted a bit better from you bro”, you tease him, blatantly lying to his face because it’s obviously the best kiss you’ve ever had.
sunghoon arches his eyebrows, “bro?” pretending to be annoyed by the label, he uses it as an excuse to smack your lips. “who’s your bro?”
you don't answer and instead just cackle in cheekily. in retaliation, sunghoon playfully yanks your hair back and exposes your neck to his eager eyes.
from then on, he starts planting countless tingling kisses—behind your ear, on your collarbone, on your racing heartbeat, all the way down to the curve of your chest.
“am i still your bro?” sunghoon breathes against your skin before resuming his passionate endeavor and moving to the other side of your neck.
you can feel his tongue glide eagerly over the sensitive area, as your skin was as sweet as candy, making your toes curl.
when it’s wet enough, sunghoon finally sucks the little skin between his teeth, stifling a groan of pain mixed with desire in your throat.
“you’re not, but you could be my boyfriend tho.” you give it a shot, your voice a little shaky, probably setting yourself up since sunghoon never committed before.
yet, you unexpectedly feel his smile against your skin, “it means you’d be my girl, right?” stating the obvious, but you nod regardless.
“then yes, i’ll be your boyfriend y/n, i’ll be anything you want me to be if you can be mine.”
your eyes widen because did you just change and officialize your relationship with the park sunghoon? in that position? you seem to be the only one troubled by this detail, since your now boyfriend keeps doing whatever.
as if you were his canvas, he’s painting fiercely numerous love bites; all over your neck, all the way down to your chest, each hickey trailing down to your secret place. you have the mental of a saint not to close your legs and making him notice.
once your skin looks like a garden full of red buds, sunghoon inhales your sweet scent one last time and straightens up. your face is all flushed and you can tell from the possessive look in his eyes that he’s pleased by the new appearance of your skin, covered with marks, his marks. yet that glimmer of hunger hasn't gone away, not even remotely.
you swallow hard because you already know what's coming.
“park sunghoon, if you break my heart, you better run fast because i'll beat your fucking ass” you state in all seriousness.
in response, sunghoon grabs your ass boldly and presses you against his hardening length. “sounds good to me”, offering you his a cocky grin and his infamous bed eyes.
what even have you gotten yourself into?
you officially erase the line of your friendship, letting yourself get lost in the unknown of sunghoon’s promises, not knowing if his intentions are sincere or if, in the end, you’ll just be another woman on his playground.
feels like gambling with the devil, but the most beautiful devil of all.
sunghoon kisses you again, just as eagerly but more delicately, as if trying to entice you. you close your eyes, letting him take control, surrendering yourself to his sensuous invitation. his hands, still on your backside, slide underneath to guide you and wrap your legs around his waist, feeling his bulge right against your heat.
without ever letting go of your lips, sunghoon carries you to your bedroom, not even needing to watch where he’s going since he knows the way by heart.
you're back in your bed, which you left not that long ago, but now with sunghoon's weight pressing heavily against you.
the situation still doesn't seem real. what do you mean, you're kissing park sunghoon in your bed and you're about to… have sex?
if someone had told you that two years ago, you'd have laughed until your tummy hurt.
but your little train of thought is cut short when sunghoon starts rubbing his hardness against your sensitive heat, freeing your lips so he can listen to you whimper for him.
fuck. it's so embarrassing.
you close your mouth and bite your lips hard to muffle your desperate sounds. you look to the side with no real focus, only to avoid his piercing gaze. but sunghoon is having none of that and grabs your chin with his fingers to force you to look at him, pressing his thumb against your lower lip to hear how much you're getting off on him.
“i’d never have guessed you’d be the shy type in bed, y/n” his eyes are full of affection and desire, but his lips are twisted into a lewd, teasing smile.
you need to summon all the strength within your body to deliver the next insult as dignifiedly as possible. "bitch, fuck you".
but you can tell from his evil chuckle that you've just handed him your downfall. "don't worry babe, i'm about to."
putting his words into action, sunghoon props himself up and takes off his tank top, letting you admire the view. you’d already glimpsed sunghoon shirtless a few times; back then, on the very first day you met, while he was running away… and when he’d stayed over at your place and ended up taking a shower there. however, you weren’t remotely interested in your best friend, so you’d never paid much attention.
like, you know he's fine, but you haven't really checked him out more than that… until now. because wow. sunghoon is broad, the kind of broad that makes you yearn, with slightly defined pecs. now that he’s repositioning himself above you, with both arms on either side of your head, his biceps looks even more prominent. his abs are naturally sculpted, just the way you like it. then, your eyes linger on the vein that extends further down and.
great.
you were already quit damp down there, now even your mouth starts to water.
judging by his sly grin, he knows exactly the effect he has on you.
“you’ve studied me enough, your turn."
you feel robbed because you haven't even had a chance to touch him yet that sunghoon already has his hands under your shirt, expertly pulling it off to toss it off the bed.
before you even have a chance to blink, your chest is exposed to his hungry gaze. you’ve never been nervous around your exes, but sunghoon, god sunghoon, his intensity is too much to handle, you just want to hide.
as if he could read your mind, sunghoon quickly grabs both your wrists with one deft hand and pins them above your head, before you could do anything.
he takes on a somewhat nostalgic tone while his eyes are full of wicked desire, “i've been wanting to play with these two for so long.”
“l-long ?!” you really want to punch him, but that bastard’s strength makes it impossible to break free from his grip. and the more you struggle, the more you jiggle your boobs, much to his delight.
so all you can do is give him death glares.
sunghoon has always teased you relentlessly, bordering between playful and downright annoying, but now that you’re officially dating, he has free rein to be insufferable and a total hornball.
you're more laid-back when it comes to sex, preferring subtle teasing, while sunghoon is obviously a freak in the sheets, with a dirty mouth.
he notices the annoyance on your face, but it only makes him snicker. little do you know, sunghoon is silently making plans to turn you into a naughty, insatiable lover who will crave for every filthy thing he’ll do to you.
let’s say that where romance is your expertise, sex is his domain.
sunghoon wastes no more time and claims your pretty swollen lips once more, offering you yet another one of those deep kisses that steal your breath away and numb your mind.
his plump lips brush against your cheek, then travel down your neck, kissing and nibbling every part again, enough to make you forget why you were upset.
then, finally, sunghoon trails down to the curve of your chest and sinuously traces each line of one of your bosom with his tongue.
when he feels you squirm nervously beneath him, he gets ruthless with it, drawing in. the effect is immediate; you groan loudly. the more he torment your right breast, the more your back arches involuntary against him, giving him even better access.
his free hand begins to take care gently of the neglected perk, but his teeth suddenly inflict a bite on the right one. the contrast makes you cry out, whether from pain or pleasure, you don't even know.
sunghoon lingers on your chest for endless minutes, torturing both peaks until they become ultra sensitive and you can’t take it anymore.
it must be said that two years without sleeping with anyone have taken a toll on your stamina, whereas sunghoon has been diligently training his.
in this brief moment of respite he grants you, sunghoon looks at you mischievously with his head nestled between your breasts full of bites. “already tired?” he whispers, as his breath caresses painfully against your sore tits.
“get off me beast” you’re panting and already feel worn out, when he’s only just getting started.
knowing that your energy is already waning, he softly releases your wrists and pushes himself up until he’s above your shoulders.
face to face, sunghoon closes the last few centimeters between you, grazing your nose with his and planting a cute peck on your lips. he rests his forehead against yours and fixes you with his deep playful gaze that always seems to probe your soul.
“your beast” he emphasizes with a grin.
he's really into this whole possessive thing, isn't he?
pretty boy whose trauma shapes his need to belong.
lost in his beauty, sunghoon uses your daze to slide his hand down your stomach, exploring with his tender touch the parts of you he wasn’t allowed before; grabbing your hip greedily, before trailing it down to your clothed core. or to be more precise, your clothed wet core.
your breath catches in your throat.
unfortunately, your sleep shorts are loose and thin, doing little to hide the lace panties beneath them, especially when your two legs are somehow still wrapped around sunghoon.
“all that, when all i did was kiss you and play with your nipples?” you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment again but still snap back at him.
“that’s funny you say that while you’ve been hard even before we reached the bedroom”, you scoff at him, raising an eyebrow.
“yeah, talk back to me.” he presses a loud kiss against your cheek and leans in close to your ear to murmur in a low suggestive voice, the smirk never leaving his lips, “makes me even harder.”
fake-angry, you push sunghoon head away from yours, perhaps a bit too harshly. you see him sit up without looking at you and think he might feel miffed…
until he swiftly grabs your knees, hoists them onto his shoulder, eliciting a startled cry from you. his nimble fingers grab your shorts and panties altogether and take them off in one smooth, unhesitating motion. the kind of motion that is nothing but muscle memory for him.
you watch him dumbfounded toss your garments on the ground, then sunghoon shifts back his focus to you, or to be more specific, your nude silhouette.
under his voracious gaze, you feel so fucking awkward. you shiver slightly, still not fully comfortable with sleeping with your best friend turned boyfriend 2 min ago.
even more so when sunghoon asks you intimate shit: “have you been taking care of yourself all this whole time?” hinting your two-year lack of partners in the process.
you let out an irritated, nervous laugh, “and whose fault is that exactly?” but you answer truthfully anyway, clearing your throat a little in embarrassment. “mhh, yeah sometimes.”
sunghoon gives a low, playful laugh, then slowly traces his deft fingers along your skin. “that’s okay, i'm here now.” and you chuckle at his nonsense.
he gently places your two legs back on either side of his waist, but while doing so, exposes your naked core. instinctively, you squeeze your thighs together.
“y/n, it's really funny to see you shy like this right now.” as he catches the hollow of your knees and puts them back in place, “but i can tell you that, later, you'll spread your legs without me even asking", tapping your ankles in a way that implies “you're not allowed to move them from here again”.
you want to fire back a sharp retort to counter his cockiness, but sunghoon suddenly presses two of his fingers right along your slit, and you feel your breath catch in your chest.
that bastard loves to catch you off guard, huh? nothing will ever change with him, except, apparently, the nature of your relationship.
he begins a torturously slow massage across the sensitive flesh, unhurriedly gliding up and down, tracing the soft entrance of you, without ever going in.
to your embarrassment, you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter too quickly, increasingly unable to control the moans escaping between your clenched teeth.
he repeats the motion all over and it feels so good that you let yourself go for a few seconds, closing your lids in bliss.
but as if sunghoon didn't want to give you a moment's respite, he suddenly moves back up toward your pearl and rubs it roughly in circle with his thumb, causing you to open your eyes wide and let out a sharp cry.
instantly, your gazes meet, and you can read a mischievous amusement in his pupils: sunghoon isn't satisfied with just hearing you scream for him, because of him, he wants to see you fully give in him.
obviously, that bruised ego of his needs to be appeased.
you want to push his hand away, but the way he's tormenting your tender lips so deliciously… pleasure takes over and you let him have his way, frowning in annoyance, trying to stifle your moans not to let him win too easily.
so when he abruptly halts, you let out a frustrated groan, your gaze filled with confusion.
then, you see sunghoon bring his fingers, drenched in your essence, to his lips. you stop him right away, grabbing his wrist. you don't really know why you want to stop him; maybe you're embarrassed, maybe you hate the way he does whatever he wants with you without any awkwardness.
but you see him smiling at your resistance, and your grip is no match for his. he still forces his fingers up to his mouth and tastes you with a completely feral look in his eyes.
you quickly let go of his wrist, as if his skin had become scorching hot. you frown at the sounds he makes with his mouth, as if he were savoring a delicacy. "i really love your taste y/n". sunghoon whispers your name teasingly, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks, all the way up to your ears.
"do you really need to do all that?" you play hard to please, even though deep down it turns you crazily on that such a fine sexy man behaves like that with you.
you watch him swiftly remove his pants and underwear and take another look at his apollo-like figure; even his thighs are alluring and worth leaving bite marks.
as you are now both bare, you instantly feel more at ease, closer to sunghoon. but you still look away shyly so you don’t catch a direct glimpse of his hard length; you suppress a laugh because you still don’t realize how insane this, what you’re doing with the one man you least wanted to date in your life.
sunghoon lies back down on top of you, his knees on either side of your hips and his arms stretched out above your head. as he lovingly brushes aside the few strands of hair falling across your flushed face, you find yourself marveling at his chiseled jawline and adam’s apple; you wonder what it would feel like to run your tongue all over.
but you're snapped out of your reverie when you hear him reply: "no need to be jealous y/n, i'll let you taste me next time."
to back up what he's saying, sunghoon’s fingers encircle your neck and tightens his grip, just enough to steal a breath. he runs his thumb over your throat and continues in a whisper, "can't wait to feel myself here". and you're left speechless, with nothing to counter this time. his eyes burn into your soul, and you let him consume you.
noticing the newfound dominance he has over you, sunghoon captures your mouth in a kiss—or rather, he feeds on your lips. your boyfriend murmurs, his hot mouth over yours, “today i'll ruin you with my fingers y/n. next time, you’ll suck my dick and i’ll show you how good i am with my mouth. what do you think? do you like that?”
you’re torn between wanting to shut him up and complying like a good girl.
however, the mood just feels so right, so hot, you just don’t want to ruin it; so the latter option… wins out.
as if enticed, you nod obediently at sunghoon and take the initiative to kiss him for the first time.
your covetous hands finally wander down to his built chest, and you feel him smile in satisfaction against your lips. as you play freely with his tongue, nibble on the flesh of his plump lips with your teeth, you’re distracted and don’t catch him slyly sliding his hand down between your thighs.
so when he sinks his index finger into your core without warning, you moan in surprise into his mouth. sunghoon sucks in the sound, feasting on it. “so tight babe, going to stretch you for me.”
you can't even dwell on the filthy comment because your mind is too overwhelmed by his sudden finger inside you, pumping in and out relentlessly. he bites your lower lip so hard that you can't even hold back the cry that escapes you when sunghoon already pushes in a second finger and scissors you.
alright, he really doesn't wanna chill in bed.
your heart is pounding, your breath is uneven, you keep whining. when he presses his thumb against your bud again, your head falls back onto the pillow. sunghoon takes the opportunity to plant new kisses and adds bites to your exposed neck, still so eager.
when he effortlessly finds the spongy texture in your heat, sunghoon curles his fingers against it, making you see stars and scream. "f-fuck."
his torture goes on, and you feel the tightness in your stomach slowly start to warm.
no way, no way park sunghoon is about to make you… come. you can’t believe it and it gets worse as you feel your core widening for him; this treacherous body.
obviously, he immediately slides in a third finger, working you open. air gets stuck in your lungs as you feel the stretch, exquisitely painful.
with three fingers inside you and his thumb working your bud in a merciless rhythm, you know you won’t last much longer, and sunghoon can tell by the way you’re trembling beneath him. “give it to me, y/n,” no need to say more asshole, your walls clench around his fingers. a few moment later. the invisible rope shatters, making you cry out.
he accompanies you throughout your climax, moving his fingers back and forth deeply, in a slower pace.
once you snap out of your daze, you realize just how sensitive your center is now and grabs his wrist weakly to motion for him to take his fingers out.
sunghoon listens to you reluctantly, withdrawing his digets from your sticky warmth and in the moment you feel relieved.
but shortly after you feel empty down there, and you want…more, you want more.
as if he could read your mind, your growing hunger, your boyfriend grabs your hand and places it intimately on the heavy fullness of him, holding it with you. you feel sunghoon’s width, the veins, just how hard he is for you.
as your fingers travel curiously his entire shaft, you know that with that shape, he’ll reach places that will make you… well.
“do you want it, my beautiful girl?” the nickname takes you aback for a moment. however, the shivers on your skin quickly reveal that you don't really dislike… any of it. wether the soft endearment, or the filthy question hanging between you.
as your gaze, heavy with desire, find each other once more, you get lost in his depth and surrender to its pull. you barely recognize yourself when you see your own head instinctively nodding.
but nothing is ever simple with a player like sunghoon. this time, he wants to hear you say it out loud, so he lets go of your hand and taps your cheek, “say it”, sunghoon commands.
even though your thumb is already tracing… the bead of moisture at his tip, slowly spreading his fluid all over his length right now, your lingering dignity stands in the way, preventing you from speaking.
sunghoon decides to shatter it to dust by teasing your entrance again with his fingers, cruelly stroking it in circles without ever sinking them. “say it,” he repeats, his smiling face replaced by a feral look.
your walls keep clenching around emptiness, leaving you craving for sunghoon. you unintentionally squeeze his hardness between your fingers, drawing a low curse from his lips and making him even more eager to sink into you.
after what feels like an eternity of torture, leaving you feverish and drenched, already sensing the slow build of another climax taking shape, you stop resisting and give in to your desires, “yes, i want you, park sunghoon, i want you so bad,” you blurt out breathless, your cheeks burning with shame.
that line totally takes away the edge from his features, softening him up.
seeing the genuine delight on his face, you realize that he’s been wanting to hear you say this, for long two years. for too many months, too many days, sunghoon has been wishing that you'd want him as much as he wants you.
a fond smile blooms across your face.
“i love you, y/n.”
you hold your breath as his confession falls between you; his eyes are intensely fixed on yours. the silence surrounding you is heavy, broken only by the sound of your frantic heartbeat, which feels as though it might burst from your chest.
you really want to believe his words, for heaven’s sake. so you kiss him again, pouring your hopes in that touch, and he kisses you back with the same longing.
this kiss is different from the others, softer; unspoken feelings—yours, linger within it as you savor each other’s taste.
feeling your heart racing for him, he starts rubbing his hard heat between your folds again, soaking it with your arousal. you whimper into his mouth and sunghoon gets excited all over again like a puppy, spreading your legs even wider. making your stiff, unused joints ache a little.
he skillfully guides his tip towards your center and the sensation drives you insane.
and finally, the moment he’d been waiting for.
sunghoon starts pushing in, the strech is immediate. your cry is drawn in by his lips while he growls in yours, savoring the clench.
you don’t remember being this tight, it’s just that this asshole is manifestly… too hung.
inch by inch, you feel your warmth swallow him, and the deeper he buries, the more you struggle to catch air.
your core gets progressively wetter, adjusting to his size. sunghoon releases your lips, unable to hold back his groans of pleasure. he watches his length disappear into your body with a proud, possessive smile, while you keep swearing under your breath from the intrusive sensation.
after a moment, he finally buries deep inside you and you let your head fall back onto the pillow.
it’s too much, way too much.
you didn’t expect sunghoon to fill you up so much. every vein, every twich of his girth is felt between your walls.
you feel stuffed, you feel owned.
after letting your depths softened a bit and grew accustomed to him, sunghoon pulls out almost entirely… just to thrust back roughly, bottoming out. you cry so damn loud, while he lets out a primal growl.
“sunghoon, i can’t,” you say, desperately fighting for breath.
he grabs your chin with his fingers and forces you to look at him. “you can, y/n, you can” he kisses you fiercely and starts pounding you, setting a ruthless tempo, making your chest bounce with every thrust.
with his other hand, your boyfriend lifts your hips to position you at his preferred angle and sinks even deeper, reaching your sweet spot with a masterstroke. your scream rips from your chest.
“you will take everything i give you". sunghoon's thrusts get erratic, having the time of his life, reveling in it.
tears well in your eyes as you can’t handle the overwhelming pleasure blooming deep within, only able to reply, "fuck you", between choked sobs, as the sound of smacking flesh fills the room. he laughs devilishly, "i fucking am, love", wiping away the tear at the corner of your eye and tasting it from his thumb.
in retaliation, you grab cling to his back and let your fingernails dig into his skin, making him wince. if sunghoon leaves his marks on you, there’s no reason you shouldn’t leave yours on him.
however, it doesn’t deter him, quite the opposite. and sunghoon numbs your mind with another powerful stroke, feeling him in your throat.
you have no idea how much time has passed; you only know that sunghoon is fucking you like a dog in heat and that your third climax is slowly mounting.
sunghoon gave you no time to savour the second climax, never stopping the possessive rolls, wanting to make you come again and again until you become boneless beneath him.
and you can already feel it in your stomach, this orgasm is going to be ruthless, going to tear you apart completely.
you won’t be able to walk tomorrow and only one person will be responsible for that.
a drop of sweat falls on you, sunghoon; your boyfriend is all sweaty as he has yet to come, denying himself to keep his entire focus on you, on wrecking you.
he eventually reaches his limits, his balls hurting and his thrusts losing in precision: he’s close.
but that’s when it hits you: sunghoon didn’t use protection.
creampie, that’s what this asshole wants, isn’t he ?
“wait, wait, don’t come inside… i’m not on the pill.” sunghoon’s eyes widen, his steamy dream getting shattered. reluctantly and without ever slowing down his rhythm, he asks you, “where do you want it then?” you stare at him in surprise; you have no fucking idea, you can’t think straight because… because of him, omg.
your used walls contract around his length, making sunghoon grunts, “fuck y/n don’t squeeze me like that or i won’t be able to control myself in time”.
but as soon as he utters those words, your boyfriend successfully brushes against your spongy spot and you tighten around him “y/n ” he dares to raise his voice.
you snap back, “you fucking idiot, maybe stop thrusting into me and let me think” but sunghoon shakes his head: “can’t,” and proves it with another deep stroke that hits your cervix, making you arch your back and almost roll your eyes, “asshole,” your voice cracks, as you can no longer hold back.
you melt into a painful ecstasy, body quivering as your orgasm ravages every nerve ending; you had to let go of his back to grip the sheets tightly instead, your joints aching.
“tell me where, y/n,” sunghoon asks again as your walls spasm around his length and his hips stutter. but you're basking in the afterglow and you neither want to nor can think about it, so you simply mumble: “if i get pregnant i’ll kill you park sunghoon,” that bastard chuckles breathlessly and capture your lips in a kiss, “my lovely girl.”
sunghoon gives one last overwhelming thrust, that draws a broken sound from you and then, and paints you with his seed. he growls while shooting so much cum and you already start praying in your head that a damn baby isn’t already on the way.
sunghoon collapses heavily on top of you, resting his head on your chest. he doesn’t care that he’s crushing you with weight, because it feels so good lying there, right where he belongs; on your breasts covered in his marks, his hot fluid inside you, listening to the racing of your heart. racing for him.
you're limp and winded on your wet sheet, body shaking with tremors, feeling his release mingle intimately with your essence.
it’s obvious that sunghoon doesn’t want to withdraw from your core, finding solace in it. but after a quiet moment, he still ends up pulling out, and you feel all his seed running out of you, making you wince in discomfort.
with what little energy remains, sunghoon finally lifts himself off you, sounding like a tired grandpa and rolls over next to you in the bed. then, he wraps his big arms around you, needing to hold you close, engulfing you with his entire frame. he grabs the sheets and covers your two naked, sweaty bodies.
you think sunghoon is acting affectionate, ready to cuddle and rest with you, and you like every minute of it.
until you feel him shift your position so your ass is against his shaft. you’re completely unwary and drained, so you don't react in time.
sunghoon swiftly grabs both your butt cheeks and spreads them apart, sinking his half-hard length deep inside you once more and sending his cum up along your sensitive walls.
you groan in discomfort and want to escape his overwhelming embrace, but he holds you even tighter between his arms. “didn't you say you love my hug?,” your boyfriend says, twisting words you said long ago.
he plants a smoosh on your temple, another on your cheek, then one last one on your shoulder. “bitch, let me go,” but sunghoon is already pretending to sleep, resting his head in the curve of your neck, while molding your inside to his shape. you try to pull away again, but his biceps lock you in too tightly.
after several seconds of pointless struggle you give up, feeling him smile against your skin. you drift off to sleep in the most uncomfortable position ever, but still feeling warm inside; sunghoon having claimed not only of your heart, but also every part of you.
fuck.
few weeks later.
it’s hard to believe, but the person who took you to a restaurant for valentine’s day this year… is sunghoon, none other than the campus heartthrob, park sunghoon.
and unexpectedly, your ex best friend turned boyfriend gives you everything you’ve been searching for.
your days are filled with laughter and tokens of affection, your nights are filled with whispers and possessive embraces. there is an unique spark in your eyes, one that reveals a deep complicity, born from your years of friendship, and that only the two of you can understand (and maybe jay, just a little).
but that's exactly why, even though your soul is overflowing with love for park sunghoon, you have a knot in your stomach.
the more you fall for him and his antics, the more anxious you become.
what if he ultimately breaks your heart, just like he did with all the girls before you?
who exactly would come to mend your heart when you were the one wiping away his girls' tears?
despite the happiness your relationship brings you, you don’t fully trust him yet. as a way of protecting yourself, you lower your expectations and somehow prepare yourself to be disappointed.
you tell yourself that this way, if he does end up crushing you, you'll be able to forgive him someday and be friends with him again.
so, unconsciously, you wait for the day when you’ll wake up to a cold bed, empty of his presence.
but every morning, you wake up to sheets still warm from him, because he has gotten up to make you breakfast (and, through daily practice, has actually learned how to make eggs).
and every sunday, park sunghoon leaves a fresh rose on your pillow because he knows how much romance means to you.
few months later.
surprisingly, sunghoon managed to pass his year; barely, but he made it. he's still his usual self (slacker and uninterested), but you forced him to study with you or else you wouldn't have sex with him: an effective academic approach.
sunghoon quit his job at that shady bar the day he was cast by a modeling agency (about time his unreal looks get noticed), and now he’s the one paying for your dates; he’s so proud of it and it makes you chuckle every time.
what’s less funny though, is that you’re still providing for half his lifestyle, especially his whimsical cravings for designer clothes. that bastard thinks you haven’t noticed him steal your card.
a sugar boy one day, a sugar boy forever.
he also decided to cut ties with his mom and moved in with you. it's fair to say sunghoon didn't really give you a choice, since jay apparently never opened the door (and rightfully). luckily for him, you're in love and you won’t let him stay in a that hellhole a second longer.
your couch has returned to its normal shape now that your boyfriend only wants to sleep in your bed. although you did force him back onto the sofa, the few times he wouldn’t stop rubbing against your butt and playing with your bossoms the night before exams.
three years later.
you’re both college graduates—sunghoon succeeded thanks to you, of course. you started working at a big firm with an impressive salary.
sunghoon continued modeling and makes a good living. however, he keeps a low profile because he doesn’t want to be chased by women.
who would’ve thought the campus heartthrob would age like this?
in fact, his new goal is to save up enough so you two can start a business together. sunghoon finds that you spend too much time at the office and misses you greatly; that’s partly the reason, because you can tell he hates seeing so many men among your coworkers
and yes, park sunghoon is still your boyfriend—much to everyone’s surprise at the annual alumni meeting: jay’s, jungwon’s, wonyoung’s (oops), and jake’s.
jake still gets on sunghoon’s nerves by the way. you’ve stayed close friends, and he lets you hang out with him. and you wouldn’t fucking care even if sunghoon didn’t want to anyway, he can just sulk in his little corner.
though let is a pretty big word when, after every outing with jake, sunghoon ties you up and makes you pay in bed. the stings of his jealousy covers your skin with love bites—so everyone knows you’re his, and makes you climax over and over until your body is too sore to get out of sheets the next day.
to this day, you’re still not 100% convinced that you were right to give him a chance that day, to put your trust in him; the silver ring you found beneath the bed carrying the weight of both a promise and a threat.
because… can old habits really disappear completely?
but the more time passes, the more certain you become: you’re willing spend the rest of your life intertwined to the irredeemable park sunghoon.
for better or for worse.
the end.
NOTES so i started writing this fic 7 months ago, took me approximately 6 months to write 6k words and 7 days to write 18k…. so if you feel like some parts of this are good and some awful well, that’s normal, my state of mind went through a lot during all this time ajdjdj. the hidden truth was supposed to be a quick oneshot, something set in a normal college setting to change my mind from my main fic, but at some point i really thought i wouldn’t see the end of it. bad boy fics never get old so i wanted to write mine, but i have no idea how it became a friends to lovers dynamic (since im not really found of the genre lol). i didn’t know if i should continue writing it since i had initially visioned a real red flag sunghoon and a relationship way more angsty, but it came off a lot more soft than intended (to my standards at least). however i had written way too much to give up. it was supposed to be an open ending as well but you can guess the happy ending with the last sentence. it was my first time (feeling shy) writing smut and it took me whole 4 days omg. i still tried to write it in my own style while including stuffs that readers usually enjoy… idk if it blended well, but i tried my best. anyway, english isn’t my first language so a lot of phrasing will be straight pee and poop i’m so sorry, i tried to check for typos but well such a long fic… hard to notice everything. i hope you enjoyed reading it, i put my whole hoonp heart in it. ❤︎❤︎❤︎
Imagine finding both friendship and love in one person
nonidol!sunghoon x fem!reader • wc: 2.5k • friendship to love
Some things just cannot be predicted. Yes, you can have that mysterious gut feeling and be anxious for a whole week, but you will never really know where that came from. Doubts will creep in, chills at mentions of certain names, but so what?
It was going on for weeks. Maybe months. You lost count of days since the tension started building. Going on and on about his friends, yet avoiding mentioning names, going to these lengthy gatherings and coming back with a stupid grin on his face. He let you believe lies about other women and somehow you did. You listened and stayed. Until you didn’t.
“Get the hell out of here!” Another mug flew out of your hand going straight at the wall, missing your, now ex, boyfriend's panicked face by mere inches. He was trying to calm you down, mumbling some nonsense you were fed up hearing and you didn’t even notice how the first object next to you flew towards his head. And another. And another. Until there was a maze of scattered shards of glass and ceramic everywhere.
The front door opened and shut in the background, but you didn’t pay attention to it.
“You can’t tell me to get out. This is my place.” This was one of his problems. Everything was ‘his’ until he struggled and then suddenly it was a joint problem. Never had a single second of hesitation to ask to chip in for rent the second you moved in, yet now suddenly it was only his place.
A door banged loudly and a tall figure entered the scene, eyeing the two of you with a tinge of worry. The messy black hair and brows show clear signs of tiredness probably from training till late evening. He didn’t even utter a word and you didn’t expect him to.
In the half a year you lived in this house, your pathetic excuse of a man shared with Sunghoon, you heard his voice a grand total of two times. That was if you exclude the customary grunts instead of usual hellos you were greeted with almost every morning. Turned out your work and Sunghoon’s ice skating training started almost at the same time and while you saw each other more often than you’d like that didn’t mean you knew much about the man.
“I don’t care whose place this is. Be a man for once in your god forsaken life and just leave.” Your hand went to a new plate on the drying rack, ready for another launch, when Sunghoon’s annoyingly large frame blocked your field of vision. You were about to say that this is really not the time for him to show his male solidarity, but he surprised you with his perfectly levelled, yet commanding tone.
“Just do what the lady said. This is my place too and I want you to leave.” Now your ex was furious, eyeing the two of you like you were his lifelong nemeses.
“Dude, you don’t even know what this argument is about! Why are you taking her side?!” His face got all red and blotchy from the fury, yet his eyes showed fear. He was scared to lose it all.
“I don’t need to. If she is angry like that, then there is a reason for it.” He was avoiding using any names, which made you think he forgot it completely, but it was nice that he still stood by your side, instead of indulging that moron.
The standoff took way longer than it was meant to, probably because your ex was weighing his chances to overpower Sunghoon (which were close to none). The plate in your hand was confiscated and was now back on the rack courtesy to Mr. I-am-twice-your-size, yet your anger was still just as potent. You wanted him gone. To a different dimension if possible. Time felt dangerously slow, but eventually he gave in.
With a tortured sigh, he threw one last glance your way and started walking towards the front door, mumbling something incoherent. Sunghoon tracked him all the way to the door until the loud bang told you he finally left.
Both of you stood still for a couple seconds, then your tall, muscular and super cliche saviour suddenly turned around in an elegant spin.
“You want some tea?” He asked with the most flat tone you have ever heard. Not like he just witnessed you throwing mugs and plates at another person. “That is if we still have mugs left…” You looked at the mess on the floor and immediately all the anger evaporated, being replaced by horror.
“Oh my god, I am so very sorry, I promise I will replace all the broken things and clean up right now.” You were about to walk to the bathroom to grab the broom, but Sunghoon stopped you.
“That is really not why I said it. I was trying to be funny.” He had a sheepish grin on his face, not used to having such lengthy conversations with you or anyone in general probably. The slight blush on the apples of his cheeks made him look almost boyish.
His admission made you forget your initial anger, confusion and now panic, a small laugh spilling out of your lips.
“Yes, I’d love some tea… If you can find a mug.” He returned the laugh and made his way to the kettle, while you plopped on the chair at the kitchen island.
Suddenly the exhaustion took over, your tense muscles going limp and head falling on the island with a soft thud.
“You know you can tell me what happened, y/n.” Hearing your name from his lips made you shudder for some inexplicable reason. Maybe because you were convinced he forgot it. Maybe because in the last 10 minutes you heard this man speak more words than in all the months you’ve known him. And he surprised you. Really surprised you.
While initially you didn’t think you needed to talk it out, his simple presence and the odd comfort it brought, had the words tumbling out in a waterfall, like a dam had burst. You told him everything. How for months he’s been going out with women and hiding it under the pretense that they are just friends, that there will be other people, that this doesn’t mean anything. This whole time you knew it meant a lot more than what he promised, but the rose-tinted glasses didn’t want to fall. At the end of the day you still trusted the bastard. And when they finally shattered, the glass hurt you more than you expected. The anger was insurmountable. This was the first time in your life you understood what “seeing red” truly meant. At some point the anger formed into tears, escaping your body and that was when it really hit you how long you’ve been bottling up these feelings.
The time you spent indulging a fantasy of a healthy relationship when it was all a lie. The energy and effort put into such a big part of your life now felt so futile that you felt helpless. The anger now was less about the betrayal and more about pity towards the wasted resources put into something that was never real to begin with.
Sunghoon listened with the usual calm and detached, almost bored, look, but you knew he paid close attention to every word you said with the way his eyes traveled on your face, the way he bit his lip, trying not to interrupt with a comment or how his leg was anxiously jumping under the table.
You always found it weird how Sunghoon and your ex managed to live together, because they were almost polar opposites. Now that you had a more clear view you realised Sunghoon was almost everything your ex wasn’t. He was calm and reserved as opposed to your ex’s shamelessly loud personality, his athletic career that your ex was jealous of yet never admitted to and after all, the dashing looks that always turned heads no matter how messy or tired Sunghoon looked.
When you finally finished laying everything on the table, with the remnants of calming tea, now cold, at the bottom of the mug Sunghoon found, he finally nodded, but said nothing else. Silence descended in the room. You noticed there was no discomfort that usually creeped in on you in these situations. Almost like this should’ve been normal, yet you were still not used to it. Your ex always hated the quiet. He had to talk loudly all the time or fill in the silence with some awful joke no one laughed at. You thought it was charming, you convinced yourself you liked it, but right now… This warm quiet felt almost meditative.
“I will get a locksmith and have the locks changed so he won’t be able to come in. I’ll deal with the rest of his things. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need until you find a place. Or just stay here.” The last sentence sounded awfully… hopeful? Almost like he wished you stayed. It was a weird sensation, but not an unpleasant one. You smiled a grateful smile, hoping the tear-stained face still looked somewhat normal and you didn’t suddenly forget how to smile.
“Yes, thanks a lot, Sunghoon… It means a lot.” He pursed his lips in a polite smile and left without another word.
That you got to know was a pretty common habit of his.
Sunghoon tended to skip hellos and goodbyes, occasionally leave his wallet at home or lock himself out. You found this surprising clumsiness an adorable charm, albeit sometimes annoying since you had to come to his rescue.
It’s been a couple months now since you’ve been living with him and you grew to know each other way better than you expected. You still didn’t talk a lot even while making coffee and breakfast in the kitchen at the crack of dawn, but somehow you knew exactly how he likes his americanos and he knew that you always added way too much sugar in yours. That you preferred romcoms and he loved action movies so you took turns choosing one for your Saturday movie nights with takeout. That he was absolutely impossible to piss off no matter how much you teased him, yet you playfully punched him in response when he tried anything towards you. That you loved sunsets and he loved sunrises, that he hated sugary things and you had a sweet tooth and many more unspoken things that you just knew about each other without having to speak.
Sunghoon got the locksmith to change the locks and your ex’s things magically disappeared less than a day after he left. That even made you let out a joke that Sunghoon secretly wanted to get rid of him too, to which he deadpanned a “yes” and left with no explanation. The situation was so funny you could swear it was a joke and you learned that his humour was in fact quite dry. The Sahara desert dry.
Things were going so well that you couldn’t help but wait for a catch. But it never came.
One day, when you were watching another Christmas romcom with the big fluffy snowflakes slowly falling outside of the window, you noticed Sunghoon was awfully restless. It was very unlike him to fidget with things and while you tried asking him if anything happened he dodged the questions or made poorly executed jokes to get out of answering, so you gave up.
Now the movie was progressing to the climax of the story with the main lead running after the woman to finally confess that he loves her.
“...No! You don’t understand! Just let me finish… Please. I wanted to say that this whole time… I loved you. Not as a friend, not as a neighbour… but as a person.”
The moment was so touching, with the Christmas lights behind the main characters, that for a moment you forgot to breathe.
“...me too” You heard Sunghoon’s faint voice from next to you, just to turn around and catch his gaze already fixed on you.
“Did you say something?” He let out a soft sigh at the question, your head tilting slightly with confusion. The sounds of the movie suddenly came muffled.
“I said ‘me too’.” His answer didn’t make you feel any more on board with what’s happening and Sunghoon realised that. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “All this time… I liked you too.”
You couldn’t have misheard that. He said exactly that. That this whole time… he liked you. Thoughts were jumbling up in your head running over each other and mixing together. Confusion and panic flooded your nervous system, but along those there was a tinge of… hope? Comfort? He was always so attentive and kind towards you that you got too used to it. Not noticing how he never shared food with anyone but you or when he quickly hid his smile the second he saw you sitting on the couch looking messy or even how he randomly bought things that he thought you’d like. It was all swooped under the rug under the pretence that he was just helping you cheer up. Now it all came back into such clear focus. He was taking care of you not because he felt bad, but because he wanted to.
“I know this is too sudden… I don’t want you to feel pressured, just know that I am here as a friend if you need me to be one.” You met his eyes, glittering from the light of the TV. “I just wanted you to know there are other options…”
A laugh involuntarily escaped your chest, earning you a tense look from Sunghoon. You cleared your throat and thought what to say next, because leaving him hanging like this when you live under the same roof would make you even more stressed.
While you knew he had infinite patience when it came to you, this friendship grew to be important for you. Your dynamics were different and it was a part of what made this work as well as it did. The wounds from the previous relationship were still fresh but didn’t hurt anymore, so maybe you had the right to move on and try something new. Something dramatically different. He was already a dream come true as is, but having to call him your partner…
“Want to date?” Your question was unexpected even for you. Sunghoon looked at you with the most red face you have ever seen him have, which made you chuckle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so forward… I just want to try and see where it goes. As you can tell, I don’t hate you either.” A smile formed on his lips and he gave a curt nod, now looking at the floor.
“Not a single dull day with you… I am looking forward to many more of those.”
Guys help! Im looking for a fic i read once and then I lost it. It was about Sunghoon and reader and that hoonie is reader's boyfriend and then he forgets about their date and goes to the library to study instead and then reader goes and finds him there and then they fuck. Ease help me find it guyz!🙏🏼🙏🏼
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⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ S in which nothing cuts deeper than your hatred for park sunghoon, except the desire that waits underneath it. 、masterpost PAIRING 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 ۶ৎ 𝘧𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋. 💿playlist WC 3.3k
𝓦 。ᐟ nothing much just fluff flashbacks hello, angst, 30 smau screenshots, with a dash of babygirl bestfriend heeseung 💿 in my head — ariana grande, i wish i hated you — ariana grande, you get me so high - the nbhd two slow dancers - mitski
𝓢ummer taps mic … hello is this thing on... i’m sorry for being so awol my sweeties i’m in the fucking trenches. i decided to post this separately instead of including it in chapter 16 hehe i got carried away pouring my despair into writing over the past 5 months (crazy sentence) so here is a cumulation of my babies before their downfall + bits of reader's diary :3 i love you all so much. thank you for being here
・・・・・ ✷
FOUR SUMMERS AGO, you came home from a three month long summer trip and found a stranger wearing your favorite person’s face.
Eventually, you started to wonder if you exaggerated everything the two of you had and embroidered the whole thing with too much hope. Maybe you were just young and stupid, and it was unrequited love, because that is what he told you, wasn’t it?
“You’re just needy, delusional, and spoiled. And I could never be with someone like you.”
In the end, Sunghoon chose his empire over you, too cowardly to fight against a system his father set up. And you lost your best friend in the process, too. That’s what happened.
You know what happened after that, what he turned into. But he wasn’t always like that, no matter how hard you try to rewrite your memories to lessen the pain.
THREE YEARS AGO. ’Twas a warm, still, joyful spring evening from an entirely different lifetime.
Back when you were beguilingly unaware and unworried about what would happen in the next three years, much less in the next few minutes, inside the cozy corners of your bedroom, which smelled like a Pomander Diptyque candle while Obvious by Ariana Grande sounded through the ApplePlay on your TV.
At the time, you weren’t worried about your sexuationship with your ex-best friend, who turned into the mortal embodiment of Hades and, as fate would have it twistedly, your (PR) fiancée at all. You only had three real concerns, and they were all oh so very simple:
What the hell were you supposed to wear to Jay’s surprise birthday party tonight?
Which bag would best fit all four of your lipsticks and your 3 different compacts (because what if you need to touch up highlighter, powder, and blush?) a power bank (because Sunghoon’s phone always ran out of battery), wipes, hand sanitizer, and Midnight Sun by Stephenie Meyer, because you were fixating on reading again and planned to sneak away to finish a chapter even though you were not antisocial, but just obsessed with Edward Cullen. Maybe the Chanel 19? But what color? And if the bag changed, then the outfit changed. And if the outfit changed, then the shoes changed. Obviously.
How irrevocably in love you were with your best friend. (Don’t worry, in here, he’s not Hades yet. He’s still your Hoonie.)
Hoonie, by the way, arrived way too early to pick you up, so now he was lying across your couch in your gigantic pink bedroom at your family manor, scrolling through TikTok obnoxiously loudly while you stood inside your walk in closet, digging through dresses and ranting about some guy you gave a chance the night before.
Guy in question being Sungchan… He’s irrelevant to the plot, however, he was cute. Definitely your type. Definitely into you. Were you? Not so much. But you finally said yes to a date with him because you could not be hung up on your best friend forever, right?
Especially not when said best friend had sworn off love like fucking Simon Basset or whatever. (You didn’t say this out loud, duh)
“…And then he tried to kiss me, and I was like… not in those ugly ass shoes. I was not having my first kiss—” You stopped, because that’s not factually correct. “Well. Not my first kiss. You were my first kiss.”
“I was your what?”
“My first kiss,” you repeated, cocking a brow up, even though you were in your closet and Sunghoon couldn’t see you. (This was approximately a few weeks after you’d tipsily kissed him in Heeseung’s house.)
Sunghoon was silent for a while, and then a loud thud sounded. You peeked out just in time to see Sunghoon dragging a hand down his face from your cream sofa, looking exactly as stupid as he clearly felt. “Shit. I forgot that you’re… You.”
You scrunched your nose, indignantly. “What the hell does that mean?”
He looked at you, still in your pajamas and with absolutely no makeup done, and paused for a moment. “How long are you planning to take?”
“What do you mean, I’m me, Hoonie?” you repeated, giving him a look that said, I will now take longer because you asked.
“I mean… you’re you.” He pointed up and down at you. “You have standards and rules.” He looked down at the blanket under him on your cream sofa with the pink Hermès pillows and the matching jacquard merino cashmere blanket, a blanket which was there because no outside clothes touched your couch and even your bed. “And standards for the rules. You just said you rejected Sungchan because of his clothes.”
Oh. You get what he means now. Translation: you’re you, aka stingy with your attention and operating with an insane, clearance system when it comes boys (and girls, if only society wasn’t so… como se dice… homophobic!) Nevertheless, you barely let anyone make it past the talking stage before you find one tiny flaw and send them to the metaphorical guillotine.
And how you’ll never date unless it’s The One.
“And?” You shrugged.
Side note: You rejected Sungchan because he was not Sunghoon. Plain and Simple. But also, his clothes were really ugly.
“Ugly fashion choices are a reflection of one’s soul. Like, who wears Prada loafers with a flashy Gucci shirt and a Loro Piana belt? Disgusting mix and match. The sexiest thing a man can do is know when to stop,” you add.
Sunghoon stared at you for a long moment, growing a bit smug, because he was currently your thesis statement in human form. Black Zegna Polo. Black Zegna trousers, and his very own Prada loafers (which are taken off downstairs because, of course, no shoes in the house.) He looked back at you, and he licked his bottom lip. Ugh. “Right,” he said. “So I’m sexy?”
You rolled your eyes. “Keep dreaming, Park.”
“Think you do that for me just fine.” His ears were pink now, despite how smug he was, and you felt a flush go over you all the same. “But…” He paused. “I really was your first kiss?”
You exasperatedly laughed. “How the fuck did you not know that? I’m actually taking great offense to this. Do you even know me? I dropped Winter because she said Breakfast at Tiffany’s was overrated. I have watched Pride and Prejudice nine times—”
“I know. I was with you three of them,” Sunghoon cut in.
You clicked your tongue at the interruption, frowning a bit at the general context of everything. “Did you really think I was out here kissing random people? Me?” You pointed at yourself, genuinely appalled. “I’m not you.”
Sunghoon looked increasingly guilty the longer you spoke, and clearly, he knew that was a jab at how he’d gotten drunk and kissed Sooha at a party one time. “Okay, when you put it like that… I didn't forget,” he argued weakly. “I just…” He paused, running a hand through his hair as you crossed your arms and threw him another annoyed look. “Don’t look at me like that. You're eighteen. I thought maybe.. I don’t know. Maybe you didn’t tell me? You’re so pretty, and everyone fucking likes you and—”
“Didn’t tell you?” you repeated, and he nodded with an even guiltier look. “Hoonie, you’re the only person I ever tell anything to other than my mom. You’re my… best friend. Do you think I would keep my first kiss a secret?” You rolled your eyes. “You forgot because you’re a man. Just say that.”
“I forgot because I am a man,” he said obediently.
“And because you’re so, so, very stupid.”
Sunghoon’s expression said, nice try. “Don’t push it.” His mouth twitched, then he paused again for a bit, the gears in his head turning in real time. “Was the kiss good, at least?”
Well, now you were only thinking of kissing him again. How inconvenient. “It was terrible. Society would collapse if they found out their precious Park Sunghoon can’t kiss for shit.” You lied. Obviously, you had no previous experience, but you knew it was still the best kiss. (This can be confirmed today, too.)
Sunghoon cocked a brow, his shy demeanor washing away and being replaced by a smug one. He could always tell when you were full of shit, and you hated it. “Oh yeah?”
You threw one of your Hermès slippers directly at his head, but he had the reflexes of an Olympic athlete, so he caught it one-handed without even looking away from you, and this only irritated you even more. “Actually, it was traumatic,” you doubled down, crossing your arms. “Made ten times worse by the fact that the criminal responsible made me promise never to talk about it again.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry.” And damn him, he meant it. You could tell he really fucking did.
“Save it. You’ve ruined romance for me forever.”
Sunghoon clicked his tongue, and you went back inside your closet. “Fuck. We can’t have that, can we?” He cooed, and suddenly you heard him get up from the couch, so you peeked out again. Oh, God. “I guess I have to make it up to you.”
The atmosphere shifted as he moved closer, and closer, each step feeling as if he were tiptoeing along your ribcages and into your heart. You pursed your lips together as tension curled all around the room and into your being, because you’d never seen Sunghoon’s eyes so dark with want. “And how do you plan on doing that?” you asked.
Sunghoon stopped right in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes — which he did for you, thumb brushing beneath your jaw in a feather-light touch, and now all you could smell was him, and him, and him. His Tom Ford cologne, Fucking Fabulous
Sunghoon’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and your heart dropped with it, too. “By practicing,” he said.
And all you remember thinking at that moment was, this is really happening, and we’ll never be the same again.
“Fine,” you said, trying to sound casual as if your heart was not on the tip of his thumb that brushed your chin. “But only because your technique needs serious work, and I’m sooooo charitable.”
“Of course. I mean, you are my best friend, right? And… If I’m really so bad at kissing, then who else but you to help me out?” Sunghoon smiled boyishly, and then he kissed you again before you could say anything, sweeping you off your feet.
And you would later write in your diary that it felt like one of the kisses from The Notebook, except better, because this was not Ryan Gosling in the rain.
This was Park Sunghoon in your bedroom, kissing you like he finally stopped pretending what was between the two of you was inexorable in the face of everything: his family, society, his defences, and his belief system.
Later that night, at Jay’s birthday dinner, you would sneak away — not to read Midnight Sun at all — to kiss your best friend. Then again and again and again.
From then until Paris, that was all it became between you two. Sacred, stolen glances and secret moments, and no one knew.
(With the sole exception of Heeseung and Jay.)
・・・・・ ✷
・・・・・ ✷
Yes, you were seriously just best friends. That’s the foundation for every great love story, though, isn’t it?
And as much as you wanted it, you never had sex.
You believed first time should be… perfect. Bed covered with roses, candles burning, and like maybe also preferably a ring on your finger, perfect. Yes, you were a no sex until marriage girly.
Still, you were also a horny girly. But that’s a testament to how sure you were that Sunghoon was the one, that you’d marry him someday. Cause you wanted it, and you told him, and you got close once in the back of his Lamborghini, parked under the trees outside the Ritz at the going away party Wonyoung and Sunoo threw for you, while your dress was bunched around your thighs, and his hand trailed higher, and higher, goosebumps trailing in their wake. But he stopped, and then he said you deserved better than your first time being in the backseat of a car.
His first time, too, actually.
So a promise was made. Because promises are sacred and you can never, ever break them.
Forever and always.
Off to Paris you went, high on the feeling of being his but not quite fully, but anything was better than not being his at all, and you fell asleep on calls and missed him in every Parisian corner that should have felt magical but didn’t, because he was not there to give its beauty meaning and say something funny that would become your favorite part of the day.
・・・・・ ✷
・・・・・ ✷
June 5th, 2022 6:10 PM
Dear Hoonie Moonie,
“I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you’re everything that exists, the reality of everything.” — Virginia Woolf.
i like that you send me poems sometimes, so i’ve decided this diary will now include a quote of the day whenever one reminds me of you.
after ballet today — which i was half asleep through because SOMEONE thought it was acceptable to keep me on the phone until 5 a.m. my time because he was clingy — i went to the musée d’orsay with tae and jennie, which you’ll know when you wake up anyway, but i find the need to immortalize everything on paper. duh. we know this by now. they flew in from new york as a surprise (cough, cough, take notes) naturally, tae ended up third wheeling us again. #ilovemysisterinlaw.
anyways, im already dreading just thinking about that luncheon i’m going to tonight without you to keep me company :(
and for my question of the day i shall pose: would you still love me if i went bald?
bisous bisous,
your pink mirage
・・・・・ ✷
July 14th, 2022 1:00 AM
Dear Moonie,
“There are times when my longing for you overwhelms me, so often I can think of you only with teeth clenched.” — Franz Kafka.
there were fireworks everywhere and it was a beautiful day and i wish you were here.
it’s been six days since i last heard your voice properly and i feel like i’m going to die.
ugh. i sound whiny and annoying. what are you doing to me, park sunghoon? i talked to heeseung about this whole thing and he told me i’m the neediest girl alive… first of all needy by ari is my national anthem for a reason, but i’d rather die than admit a man is right.
and i am busy too, but i still manage to not be too busy for you.
that was bitchy but i don’t care. i’m not even mad that you are sort of ghosting me. you could go years and years without talking to me — and i’d go out of my mind — but i’d still love you. but i’m just worried. i feel like there is something you aren’t telling me even though you insist there isn’t.
it’s just that i am so confused about everything, and this on top of it is making me overthink every last thing ever. call it female intuition but impending doom is at bay… in my heart.
i am so fucking confused, hoon. i know you’re in love with me and i know saying things has always been harder for you than acting on them, and i know you are scared, but why is this the one thing you can’t say when you say everything else?
my question of the day: how do you kiss me and get jealous the way you do and still leave me here like this? am i not worth it?
i keep trying not to think that maybe you regret these months… okay wait. i should just shut up. six days of us not being the way we always are and i’m acting like i imagined everything. god. i’m just being dramatic.
please just be okay.
forever and always,
your sunshine
p.s. it’s a full moon tonight, so at least you’re here somehow.
・・・・・ ✷
・・・・・ ✷
・・・・・ ✷
September 19th, 2022 11:55 PM
Dear Sunghoon,
“I guess this is the end / I'll have to learn / To be somebody else / It's been you and me / Since before I was me / Without you, I don't yet know / Quite how to live.” – Mitski.
i don’t know why i’m still writing in this. but this is the only place i can still talk to you. i’ll never understand what changed, and as hard as i have tried, you have made it very clear you don’t want me in your life anymore, so i guess this is it, isn’t it?
i saw a pretty car on the street today. you know i don’t know shit about cars, but i think it was a maserati or whatever. it was black and tinted and my first thought was, sunghoon would love this. isn’t that fucking pathetic? you’d call me that, i guess. well, atleast i’m not a coward!
every beautiful thing turns around and points to you, and i never thought there would be a day where i would see something and not be able to tell you about it. so much for forever and always, huh?
i love you.
i hate you.
question to the gods who rolled my fucked up dices: how do i stop loving someone who is embroidered into the tapestry of my soul?
𝒇.reader ⁕ fingering ⁕ unprotected p in v ⁕ rough sex ⁕ slight dub-con ⁕ mean sunghoon ⁕ dacryphilia ⁕ use of pet names (baby, angel, pretty girl etc.)
The argument ended more than two hours ago.
Still, Sunghoon hasn’t heard a word leave your pretty little mouth. Not to mention that the argument was absolutely stupid. His nerves were already frayed by the constant nagging of his manager, a headache throbbing behind his eyelids from sitting in front of the computer screen for too long, mood ruined by that stale coffee the barista served him this morning and called it the best creation of his time. And you. Sweet, perfect, concerned you just happened to be there at the wrong time.
He was being an asshole, that much he admits. He shouldn’t have yelled at you or called you dumb, but you were the softest target with your clinginess and sweet voice. Now, you are giving him the ultimate cold shoulder. He has tried apologizing, tried talking to you, to make it up to you, yet you remain steadfast in your determination to ignore him. It was frustrating, really, though you look absolutely lovely sulking on the couch, big eyes swimming with tears you could barely keep at bay.
Sunghoon’s heart cracks a little at the sight but a small part of him is thrilled that he can get to you so well. You have always been a sensitive little thing, just one mean word or raising his voice a few octaves would leave you a sniffling, sobbing mess.
Just like how you’re sobbing right now. Sunghoon had initially thought that he’d coax you to talk to him again by murmuring apologies in your ear, but you had other plans. The second Sunghoon sits down beside you, you were getting up, sniffling as if he had wronged you (he has). That made his remaining patience snap like a thread.
Before you could even utter a word of protest, you were being bent over the arm of the couch, his large hand pushing your face into the cushions, thick fingers ripping your panties and tossing them off somewhere. He could have been more vocal and gentlemanly, though you don’t look like you were in the mood for it. Besides, he already knows what will get you speaking really fast.
“We’ll do it your way,” Sunghoon mutters, leaning over you, his chest brushing against your back. His lips pressed on the side of your neck in a feather-light kiss that didn’t match the roughness of his hands.
His hand palms your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly before sneaking down to brush over your folds. He isn’t gentle by any means, no, his thumb rubs up and down your slit, gathering the syrupy slick and circling your clit once, twice, thrice, and again until you are squirming from the stimulation.
“Nu-uh, baby. Don’t squirm now,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your jaw. You were about to relax, to melt into his familiar touch, but of course Sunghoon wasn’t nice. Before you could relax, three thick fingers are sinking down to knuckles, cold metal of his rings bumping against your heated skin.
You jerk, a sharp cry leaving your lips at the suddenness of the intrusion. Sunghoon watches as tears drip down your sweet face, staining your ruddy cheeks, and making your bottom lip tremble oh-so-sweetly. Fuck, you were so pretty, so, so dear to him it was ridiculous. He gives you enough time to adjust by squirming and clamping around his digits before pulling them out, feeling your walls flutter, and then stretching deliciously when he thrusts them back in.
Sobs are already falling past your lips, back arched as slick drips down his digits and coats his hand in thick sheen. “Still not speaking?” He murmurs, warm lips brushing over your dampened cheek, tongue flicking out to lick a tear. “I did say sorry, didn’t I?”
You’re immediately shaking your head, strands of hair sticking to your damp skin. “No, y-you didn’t, Hoonie.”
Oh, how Sunghoon melts at the way you whimper out that little nickname. He grins against your cheek, crooking his fingers juuust slightly to hit that spongey spot. Your body jerks, toes curling from pleasure as you let out a choked moan.
“I didn’t?” He muses, pulling his fingers out with a wet squelch. “That’s really bad of me, isn’t it?”
He was mocking you, you could tell by the slight taunting lilt of his voice. You were ready to beg him to put his fingers back, already feeling empty and distressed from the loss of orgasm. But then you feel him moving back, the sound of metal clinking, and the sound of a zipper reaches your ears. You tense—from anticipation or from nervousness, you couldn’t tell. Though your cunt clenched ‘round nothing, dripping like it has been waiting for this exact moment. And perhaps, Sunghoon thinks, she has. After all, his pretty girl was just so ready for him whenever he needed her.
He pulls his pants and boxers down to his thighs, just enough to free his aching erection. It springs free with a jerk, tip glistening with pre-cum. Spitting on his palm, Sunghoon fists his shaft, pumping his plumpy girth once, twice, thrice before lining himself up with your weeping cunt.
His one hand pushes down on your back to make you arch while the other guides the bulbous head to part your folds and sink into your heat. He watches, entranced, as your puffy lips parted around his mushroom tip, your walls stretching around his girth as he feeds you inch after thick inch. He has to hold himself back from just rutting into you like an animal, to relish in the damning, velvety heat of your cunt.
“S—Sunghoon—” you gasp, gummy insides swallowing him whole. The way he fills you up is almost sinful, and all you could do is push your hips back, grind your ass against his pelvis
“Mm, fuck, baby,” Sunghoon rasps, his other hand coming to pull both of your arms behind your back, holding your wrists with one hand while the other settles on the dip of your waist to anchor you to him. “Feels like coming home. Literally.”
He gives you a second to adjust—just a second, and then he is pulling his hips back, thick head dragging along your walls almost heavenly before snapping forward.
He sets a punishing pace almost immediately once he was sure you could take it. His hips slap against your plump ass, grip tight on your wrists as he thrusts, thrusts, thrusts, each one forcing his cock a little deeper than the last. “That’s what you get for goin’ silent on me,” Sunghoon groans, his length swabbing into every nook and cranny you thought didn’t even exist.
“Nngh, t—too fast,” you slur out, head pushed into the couch cushions, its case now damp with your drool and tears, and bend over the armrest with your ass and feet up. The position wasn’t new, though the circumstances sure were. And Sunghoon doesn’t look like he is in the mood for playing nice and gentle for you, at least not tonight.
“Clearly not fast enough if ya’ can still speak, pretty girl,” and then he is changing the angle, just slightly so, but it made stars burst behind your eyes all the same. He bends his knees, pulling at your wrists to force your back into a deeper arch and that has his cock ramming into that sweet, hidden spot.
“Oh—” you squeal, thighs clamping shut.
That, that wasn’t something Sunghoon liked, clearly, because one second his hand is pinning your wrists behind your back, and the next you feel a sharp smack landing right on your pussy.
You yelp, more slick gushing around his cock as his roughened tips press down onto your puffy clit. “You’re always throwin’ a tantrum and being messy, hm?” His low voice was enough to pull a whimper from your throat, the stinging of the smack barely subsiding before he is drilling into you.
“I—I wasn’t—” you start, but your words are soon dissolving into sobs when he twists your clit, his larger, broader frame hovering behind you when he leans down.
“H-Ha, you so were, baby,” he drawl out. You were a firm one, Sunghoon knew that much. Even if you were on your limits, you wouldn’t admit it. Such foolishness in a small body was almost expected, really, though it didn’t dim his admiration for you. If anything, your stubbornness to admit your weakness and vulnerability made him want to crush you.
And he expected that whiny denial anyways. He’d have to bully out a few orgasms for you to actually sob out a complaint.
You were just so beautiful when you were being tunneled by his cock, all stupid and whiny with tears and drool all over your face.
Stubborn and a whole lot sensitive, but you were his, every inch. And while he might have yelled at you because of his stupid stress, he knows how to make it up to you all too well.
So, in no time, he is burrowing his cock deeper into your cunt until the round head slams into your cervix. You don’t get the time to even register the sensation at first before he is bashing that spot, the impact and pleasure making your eyes cross and for unashamed moans to spill out.
“Mhm-hm, look at ‘er, angel,” he grunts, “Grippin’ me so sweetly.”
Each snap of his hips sent your body jolting forward, face pressing into the cushions and wetting them with your spit and tears. Usually Sunghoon is much more loving and considerate, however, right now he has lost all of his patience. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and the wet, filthy plap, plap, plap filled the living room along with his ragged breathing.
He felt your walls fluttering, saw the way your knees gave away and you bit the pillowcase to muffle your cries, and he knew you were close. Too close. A little bit more and you’d be dumb enough to forget about the argument altogether.
His hand snakes down, thick fingers prodding at your swollen folds before finding your clit and drawing slow, tight circles over the sensitive bud. Your body twitched, a broken sound spilling past your lips, sounding strangely like a breathy gasp of his name. Sunghoon didn’t stop his relentless assault, if anything, his thrusts became more forceful, more intentional to drive you to the brink of insanity.
“You’re close, pretty girl,” Sunghoon murmurs, not a question, rather a statement. He knew your body better than you knew it yourself, knew which buttons to press to get you all stubborn and defensive and what strings to pull to make you melt in his hands.
You merely managed a dumb nod, sniffling and hiccuping, and it was just so pathetic. You were barely coherent, probably not even listening to half the things he spewed out. His cock gave a traitorous jerk, balls drawing up as his own climax approached.
“Sunghoon,” you choke out, the knot in your tummy unraveling with each thrust. “P—Please, don’t stop.” Pleasure spreads down to your toes like an inferno, consuming you whole until all thoughts and memories of previous argument melted from your head.
The “please” sounded so good from your lips, but then again, you’ve always looked prettier when you begged.
“Please what?” He slows down like the annoying asshole he was, and a shudder ran through you. You didn’t speak—couldn’t, not when he was railing you into another week. He, however, doesn’t care if he had rendered you speechless. He wanted—no, needed—you to continue your mindless babbling. He leaned over you, chest brushing against your back and he was so warm, like a furnace. “I said, please what, angel, hm? Please let you cum? Please fuck you harder? Or please stop? Which one is it?”
The thought of him stopping was painful. You didn’t want that, not when you were so, so close. You shake your head immediately, lifting your head a little to peer at him from over your shoulders, your wet eyes meeting his.
“Please let me cum,” you whimper, and Sunghoon feels the wetness of your tears when you press your cheek against his jaw.
And, just like that, he was absolutely done for. His hips snapped forward with more force than necessary and you bit back a choked cry.
“Fuck, you’re so good,” he rasped, lips ghosting over your soft damp cheek in feather-light kisses. “Too good.”
The squelching sound of your wetness ricocheted off of the walls along with the slap of skin against skin. Your eyes rolled back, breath hitching as the pleasure mounted—hot and white. Your grip on the cushions tightened, nails tearing into the cheap pillowcase.
Your thighs shook, entire body seizing with the force of your orgasm as you came around his cock. It was abrupt, intense, and numbing. You feel Sunghoon stilling inside you, big, warm hands settling on your waist. You squeezed him, and the tightness had him choking back a moan. He pulled out, fist closing around the base of his cock in a firm grip. He knew if he continues, he’d cum, and he had something much important to take care of before granting himself that pleasure.
He watched as you came down from your high, body still trembling with the aftershocks of it all, the fire dying down and leaving behind dazzles of pleasure.
“You alright?” He whispered, voice gentler now as he rubbed your back.
You stayed quiet for a moment, catching your breath before speaking. “You were mean to me,” you whisper, voice undeniably sulky despite your piss-poor attempt to mask it.
Sunghoon huffed, a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, though you weren’t sure. He moved away, the warmth of his body disappearing and you almost found your footing back when he is hauling you up and settling down on the couch, sitting you on his lap.
“Oh, I know,” he sighed, hands finding purchase on your bare hips and he felt the familiar spark of arousal igniting low in his guts. He dark eyes catch yours, a small, almost mocking smile pulling at his lips. “But I know how to make it much better, yeah?”
If the lustful glint in his eyes wasn’t enough to convey his implications, the hardness of his arousal pressing against your inner thigh made his intentions much, much clear. And despite how much you want to hold on to your anger, you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like you were the most beautiful person to exist in his world, and especially not when you could feel yourself already beginning to drip.
