Ha-eun ⋆˚✰ ݁˖⭑.ᐟ

sunghoon biased (secretly OT7 lol) ✮⋆˙ engene - stay - army .✦ ݁˖ post mostly about my kings enha ✶⋆.˚

[hoonsonenonly]

𝄞⨾💿✮˚.⋆ now playing......

Eunnie's Playlist

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ♱ 𝄞 I sing the vampires' tune...........

.⋆♱ Eunnie - she/her - '04

.⋆♱ write for enha on this blog ⋅˚₊‧ ⤷ i write mostly smau, so the posts will most likely include explicit texts. MDNI!! ⋅˚₊‧ ⤷ i write reader x member as well as ships

.⋆♱ you can find me on ao3 here!!

.⋆♱ feel free to send me req anytime and don't hesitate to msg me either <3

[hoonsonenonly]

My Playlist #13- I adore you, can't you see you're meant for me?

𑣲⋆ Song Teaser: Riki loves y/n with all he as. Too much to just watch her from afar....

𝄞𑣲⋆ artists - riki x fem!reader 𝄞𑣲⋆ content warnings - intimidation, stalking, panic attacks, possessiveness, emotional distress, reader is conflicted but gives in to it lemme know if i missed anything <3 𝄞𑣲⋆ title track - Salvatore by Lana Del Rey

𝄞𑣲⋆ Eunnie's lyrics - stalker au but the reader has daddy issues so she's lwk fine with it

Unknown: That white dress looked cute on you today.

You stare at the message, feeling the anxiousness settle in your stomach as always. You've been getting messages from a certain someone for months now, and you had no clue who it was.

All you knew was that he was fucking insane.

Unknown: Ignoring me again, bunny? I can see your lights on, sweetheart.

You quickly jump out of bed, yanking open the curtains, but you see no one. No figures, not even the sound of footsteps on the lamp-lit street.

This has been your life for the past few months. Living in constant fear, because someone was clearly here. Always with you, wherever you were.

You've called the police on him once, but they just laughed in your face and called you delusional. You'd blocked the number multiple times, but the messages never stopped.

Your phone buzzed again, a new message lighting up the screen.

Unknown: You looked so pretty when you laughed with your friends today. I wish I could hear it up close.

Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest. You didn't see anyone around you that time, but he was there. He was watching. He was always fucking watching.

Unknown: I'm not gonna hurt you, my baby. I just want to be near you, that's all.

The words are soft, but they send ice down your spine.

The next day, the campus was buzzing with students chatting and laughing, but you were hyper-aware of everything. You walked while chatting with a friend as you made your way to 'Psychology 101'

You slide into a seat, pulling out a notebook, a pen, and your phone.

A buzz makes you jolt, and a new message notification pops up on your screen.

Unknown: Wow. You look stunning today.

Unknown: I've never seen you wear purple before. It suits you, my love.

Unknown: I saw you smile at your friend when she complimented you today. I wanted to be the one to make you smile like that.

You were so sure no one was watching you, but he was there. Your chest tightens with guilt and confusion. The stubborn flutter in your stomach twists into shame.

You stare at your phone like it might explode. This stalker had no right to make you feel that weird little spark when he called you pretty. He was a creep. And you were being utterly disgusting.

You wanted to scream. To throw your phone across the room. Pull your hair out. But deep down, the stupid heat never left. Like a dirty secret only meant to burden you.

The professor droned on about cognitive bias, but your mind was miles away. Your eyes scanned the faces of each and every person in front of you, to see if you recognized any of them. You fought the urge to glance back.

Was he sitting behind you? Was he staring at the back of your head? Would you make eye contact with him as soon as you turned around?

And then, your phone vibrated silently against the table. Not a notification this time, but a call. Your heart lurches, watching the phone light up, shivering against the table. The call goes straight to voicemail after two rings. Silence fell again.

You exhale, shoulders relaxing just a tad, but then your phone buzzes again. A text this time:

Unknown: I wanted to hear your voice.

Unknown: It's rude not to answer when someone calls you, bunny.

You squeeze your eyes shut, ignoring the buzzing entirely, but the messages never stop.

Unknown: You're being so cold today.

Unknown: I can see you bite your lip. Are you nervous, bunny?

Unknown: You'll draw blood at this rate, my love. Relax.

The next message made nausea settle in your stomach. A picture. Of you. Taken now.

You were leaning forward, elbows on the desk, pen between your fingers. Your half-ponytail falling over one shoulder, silver earring catching the light.

He'd taken it from the right side of the class, just a few rows behind. Underneath it, a single message.

Unknown: I love this picture. You look so beautiful.

The compliment hits like a jolt, warm and electric, spreading through your chest despite yourself.

You absolutely despised the fact that you liked it. Hated the way your breath stuttered along with your heart. Your fingers curled around the phone's edge, knuckles whitening. You felt like an experiment being observed. Like a lab rat under a microscope, being perceived too deeply.

The professor paused briefly to ask a question, a student answered, and in that split second of noise and movement, you risked it.

Just one quick glance over your shoulder.

Your pulse spiked the second your eyes landed on him.

Hood up. Cap low. Entire face hidden in shadow. But you felt it, the weight of his stare burning into your shoulder, down your arm, lingering on the curve of your neck where silver jewelry glistened.

He wasn’t moving. Didn’t shift or blink, just sitting there. Still as a statue. Watching like this was all he had to do for eternity, just look at you and exist near you, and it would be enough.

You looked at him for a millisecond before you snapped your head back forward. You kept your gaze forward, but your senses were hyper-alert to him.

It was maddening.

How could someone be so close and yet completely unknowable? Just a silhouette in dark clothes with eyes you couldn’t see but still felt like needles on your skin.

Then, your phone buzzed again, the screen lit up, face down on your desk:

Unknown: You looked back.

Unknown: Did I scare you?

You dare to reply. Maybe if he understands that he's scaring you, he'll back off.

You: Yes.

Unknown: Good.

The reply came fast, like he's been waiting for your honesty.

You: You're fucking crazy.

Unknown: Yeah.

Unknown: I watch you because I have to. Because if I don't, someone else might notice you first.

Unknown: The thought of that makes me sick.

The class ends, and you shove your book into your bag, slinging it over one shoulder, and darting for the door. The lecture hall emptied slowly behind you, but you didn't look back. Your breath came out in quick bursts, panic rising in your chest.

Your heart is pounding, not from running but from fear. You weave through the campus courtyard, head lowered, but eyes scanning ahead. Your phone stayed off in your pocket. No more messages, no knowing whether he was near or not.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, a shadow moved fast between buildings. It was gone the second you turned your head fully, vanishing into thin air. But he was there. You know he was.

You picked up your speed, cursing yourself for wearing heels while heading towards the main gate, the one that led off campus. The exit where buses stopped, cars came and went, where you'd get safety in numbers.

You take a deep breath, stepping forward. But then your eyes flicked to the bus stop across the street. A figure in a black hoodie. Staring right at you.

You freeze, eyes wide with panic. You spin on your heel and dart back through the gate, stumbling. Back into the crowd. Anywhere but the bus stop. Your lungs burned with the lack of oxygen, mind clouded with fear as you wove between students. No destination in mind.

All you knew was that you had to get away. Away from him, away from the hooded figure that might've just been some random guy, but it didn't matter.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, and so you ran.

The campus blurred around you, students turning their heads at your frantic pace, a few calling out in concern, but no one reached for you. No one stopped you.

Panic burned behind your eyes, threatening tears, but they wouldn’t fall yet. You rounded a corner sharply, and the library loomed ahead. Anywhere with people.

The library was hushed, pages turning, keyboards tapping softly. The air smelled like old books and coffee. You slammed into the chair across from the hunched guy, chest heaving.

He looked up slowly, tall with messy blonde hair. A thick psychology textbook was open in front of him. His eyes widened slightly at your sudden appearance, the panic still raw on your face.

You pull some random book from the shelf behind you and slap it onto the table, pretending to read. The guy just sat silently, no questions asked, as if he saw people run into libraries looking like they just escaped death every day.

After a few minutes, you look around once. No hooded figure. No shadowy figure lurking. No text buzzing to life. You couldn't feel anyone's eyes on you. Nothing.

The tension in your shoulders eased, just a fraction. You took a deeper breath this time, slower, and finally relaxed into the chair.

The guy across from you glanced up again, then gave you a small half-smile before returning to his notes like nothing had happened.

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady your breathing, but it kept hitching every few seconds. Your hands wouldn’t stop trembling under the table.

Across from you, the guy glanced up once more.

"Fuck, this must be so weird for you," you say with a breathy chuckle, finally glancing up at him. Recognition dawned on your face, "Riki?" you exclaim, a smile blooming across your face.

Nishimura Riki. You'd been paired up once for a music prod. project. You haven't exactly been in touch other than a few messages here and there.

"I was wondering when you'd recognize me. Is everything okay?" he asks, cocking his head to the side. He's always been sweet to you, and you considered him a friend.

"Yeah, everything's alright," you say with a smile, and he nods back. "I haven't seen you in a while, Riki-yah. How have you been?" you ask, leaning over the table. His eyes sweep over your face once, and you feel the hair at your nape stand, as if your body recognized it. It feels familiar. Like him....

You shoot down the idea immediately. Fuck you were just being unreasonably paranoid.

He replies, "I've been good. Classes are kicking my ass,"

"I feel you, dude. I barely get any sleep nowadays."

He chuckles, a low sound that makes you relax a little. "You're in the advanced composition group now, right? With Professor Lee?"

"Wait, did you get put in that group too?"

"Yeah, I did. Kinda mad you haven't noticed me," he teases, and you chuckle, a soft sound in the quiet of the library, "Aigo, did I make you sad, Riki-san?"

He scowls at you, but his lips tug into a smile. "Y/n, I was thinking, we should collab again. For that project, Prof. Lee assigned. We did so well last time, so why not do it again?"

His eyes were bright now, and you nodded excitedly, "Fuck yeah, we should, I loved what we came up with last time."

“Hell yes!” he whispered-shouted, then immediately clamped a hand over his mouth when a librarian shot him a glare.

He lowered his voice again, grinning like an idiot. Then he pulled out his phone. “Give me your number,” he said eagerly. “We can text about ideas later.”

"Whoa, this is insane, wait lemme-" You open your phone. The ding made your blood freeze. Your screen lit up.

Unknown: You're talking to a guy.

Unknown: Who is he?

Panic rises in your throat once more. The reply came fast, colder than any other message.

Unknown: I'm always watching, bunny.

That calm certainty, like it was his birthright to observe you every second of every day, sent chills down your spine.

Unknown: Is he your boyfriend?

You: No

The response came quick, like he'd been waiting for that exact answer.

Unknown: Good.

It sent another chill down your spine, made your fingers tremble again. It wasn't loud or angry, just pure possession.

You: Leave, please

The typing bubble appeared instantly. No hesitation.

Unknown: I can't, my love.

Unknown: You're mine to watch, bunny.

Unknown: That's how it always has to be.

It wasn't a threat. It was a fact, stated as if it were common knowledge. You had to leave. Immediately.

"I-I have to go," you mutter to Riki, picking up your bag.

Riki glances up from his phone, a pleased smile on his lips, as if he'd been expecting you to say that. "Yeah, okay," he says softly, then adds, "Text me later? For the project?"

"Yeah, definitely. Bye..." you say with a smile and a wave, hurrying out.

The heavy doors swung shut behind you. Sunlight hit your face again. Campus bustled with students between classes, groups laughing, couples walking hand-in-hand.

Everything looked normal. Safe.

But under it all? Your stomach twisted.

That's when a devastating thought crept up on you. He wouldn't hurt anyone, would he? The thought hit like a cold wave, sudden and suffocating.

You stopped walking. Right there, in the middle of the path, students flow around you.

Would he…?

Not just watch. Not just text. But act.

Would he see Riki as a threat? And worse, what would he do about it?

And suddenly you had to get an answer. Your fingers as you click on the chat. No new messages.

You: Will you hurt him?

Unknown: No.

You let out a shaky exhale, relief flooding your chest, only if it is just for a moment. You should block his number again. But you haven't, and somehow that feels worse than everything else.

You: Are you still watching?

Unknown: Yes

No explanation. No lie. Just the blunt, honest truth.

Unknown: You're standing by the fountain now.

Unknown: Wearing that pretty black sweater.

Unknown: Your hair is down today. Did you forget your claw clip today, baby?

He was watching you right now. Right this second, he's in the crowd, eyes trained on you.

You scanned again, more carefully this time. Checked the rooftops? No one. The library windows? Just students studying inside. The coffee shop across the way? No one.

Your phone buzzed.

Unknown: Turn around slowly.

Your heart jumped. You didn’t want to turn around. But you did, slowly.

And then, a soft vibration in your pocket again.

Unknown: Look up.

Your eyes flicked upward automatically, scanning the second-floor windows of the buildings surrounding the courtyard.

At a window on the third floor of the fine arts dorm, half-hidden by a curtain. A shadow. A silhouette. The shadow didn’t move. Didn’t wave. Just stood there.

A tall, dark figure framed in the small window, hood up, face completely hidden under it.

But you knew.

Every fiber of your being screamed that he was staring right at you, even from three floors above and fifty feet away. You couldn't see his eyes, but they felt like laser beams drilling into your skin, the weight of his attention crushing down on you without a single word spoken.

Unknown: I see your face so clearly.

A pause.

Unknown: You look scared.

Not accusatory. Just observational. Cataloguing.

Another buzz. This time, the message was softer, almost tender.

Unknown: I don’t like seeing you scared.

Unknown: But I can’t stop watching you. It’s impossible.

The words gave you whiplash.

He hated that you were afraid. He wanted to be close to you. But his very presence- the stalking, the texts, the watching from windows- was what caused your fear in the first place.

And he knew it, yet he didn't stop. Your instincts seem to catch up to you then, and you turn on your heel, running out the campus gate.

No looking back. No checking if he was still at the window.

Just move. Fast. Panic fueling every step.

You get on the bus, doors hissing shut behind you as you tap your card.

You stumbled to a seat near the back, collapsing into it like all energy had drained from your body.

The vehicle rumbled to life, pulling away from campus with a lurch. The bus rolled down the main street, blending into city traffic. For now? You were safe. He wasn’t here. Your phone was silent, and you could breathe.

You get off at your stop.

The walk to your dorm felt longer than usual, every step heavier, every shadow longer. Your heels clicked on the pavement, each sound echoing slightly in the quiet residential street.

A headache pulsed behind your temples. Your chest still ached from running, from fear, from everything. But at least you were home now, in your own space.

The door clicked open, familiar scent of home hitting you: clean laundry and the faint vanilla candle you always lit.

You kicked off your shoes and dropped your bag by the couch. You finally relax, stepping out of your shoes, hissing at the bruises on your feet from running in heels as you pull your phone. You gulp down some water, calming down the erratic beating of your heart as you finally pull your phone out. Just as you move to plug it in, it buzzes again.

The buzz made you flinch, water glass halfway to your lips.

Unknown: You got home safe.

Not a question. A statement. As if he'd already known. Like he'd been tracking your route the whole time.

Unknown: I saw you limping when you walked inside.

Unknown: Do your feet hurt, my love?

Unknown: I'm sorry.

Two words you hadn't expected.

Unknown: I didn't mean to scare you, but I needed to know you were safe, sweetheart.

Unknown: I care about you more than anyone else.

The contradictions again. He terrified you to the core, but also claimed he did it because he cared.

You: are you watching?

Desperate to know if you could finally relax. Desperate to know if you were safe here.

Unknown: Not right now.

The phone lay on the table, screen still lit, glowing like an accusation. You scanned the room with wild eyes. Nothing seemed safe anymore.

Breathe. Just breathe, but air wouldn’t come right. Your chest tightened, pulse roaring in your ears. The buzz was soft, but in the dead silence of your dorm, it sounded deafening.

You didn’t move toward it right away. Couldn’t. Your hands were still shaking too badly to reach for it.

But then, another buzz. And another. Three messages in quick succession.

Unknown: Breathe.

Simple. Calm. Not mocking, almost gentle. Like he could feel you hyperventilating in real time.

Unknown: Don’t panic.

Unknown: I’m not gonna hurt you, bunny.

You: why are you doing this?

Your fingers are trembling now, tears threatening to spill over.

Unknown: Because I love you.

Three words. No exaggeration. No dramatic buildup.Just a raw, quiet confession, delivered like it explained everything.

And maybe to him, it did. He loved you, twisted and broken as his love was, and that’s why he watched every second of your life.

Unknown: I know this is scary, but I'll wait till you're ready.

Unknown: I'll wait as long as I need to for you.

The tingles came, unwanted, unwelcome. That stupid flutter in your chest again. The one that made your stomach twist with guilt.

Why did the idea of him waiting for you feel so tender?

He wasn’t shouting. Wasn’t demanding. Just quietly promising to stay, to be there, however long it took. It should’ve been creepy. (And it was.) But also, there was something almost romantic about his devotion, even if it came from obsession.

You hated yourself for feeling even a hint of warmth toward him

The phone hit the carpet with a soft thud, screen still lit, messages still glowing, but you didn’t care. Tears spilled silently, slipping down your cheeks as you curled into yourself on the couch.

Knees to chest. Arms wrapped tight around your body like armor.

Everything hurt. The fear. The confusion. Those damn flutters that made no sense at all.

You weren’t okay. You weren't safe, even in your own home. And he was watching, probably right now. You didn’t move. Just stayed curled up, hugging yourself like you could disappear into the couch if you tried hard enough. Inside? It felt hollow. Heavy.

Your phone lay forgotten on the floor. Screen dimming slowly.

You didn’t cry loudly. Just quiet, exhausted sobs, the kind that come when you’re too tired to fight anymore. Your eyes stung. Your chest ached.

Every thought tangled: fear, guilt, confusion, and those stupid flutters that wouldn't go away no matter how much you hated them. Outside the window, darkness had fallen completely now.

Sleep hit you like a wave, sudden and deep. One second, you were crying. The next, nothing. Your breathing slowed into soft, even rhythms. The tension in your body melted away as exhaustion finally won over fear.

You slept curled on the couch, hoodie still on, shoes off somewhere by the table. No blanket. No pillow. Just unconsciousness pulling you under into darkness.

The morning light crept through your blinds, soft and pale, painting stripes across the floor. You blinked slowly. Your head throbbed. Eyes felt swollen, heavy from last night’s crying.

Everything hurt, emotionally and physically. The stress had caught up in a full-body ache. Your neck was stiff from sleeping on the couch. Your mouth was dry.

The thought of stepping outside made your stomach twist.

You dragged yourself up, heart already pounding just from thinking about it. But skipping class wasn’t an option, not if you wanted to graduate. Not if you didn’t want professors noticing.

The shower ran hot, and you stood under the water, trying to wash off last night’s exhaustion. The heat soothed your sore muscles, but it didn’t touch the anxiety humming under your skin.

Dressed quickly in jeans and a sweater, nothing fancy. Just functional. Skipped breakfast entirely despite your stomach growling like a bear.

One black coffee poured into a travel mug. Keys grabbed. Phone shoved in pocket, and you just walked out.

You practically speed-walked, no, ran, toward campus, paranoid. Heart hammering. Breath uneven. Every shadow making your skin prickle.

The classroom door swung shut behind you; luckily, no one noticed your frantic entrance. The buzz hit again, sharp and sudden against your thigh.

You slid into the second row seat, still breathing a little too fast. Hands gripped the edge of the desk like it was an anchor.

Your breath caught. Everyone else was focused on the professor’s lecture, but you were frozen in your seat.

Unknown: You're sitting in the second row.

Unknown: You're sitting in the aisle seat today, though. Nervous, baby?

You: you're here?

Unknown: Yes, as always, bunny

Again, no explanation. No elaboration. Just a simple, chilling confirmation that made your heart speed up.

He was here. Right now. Your eyes darted around again: students, teachers, then back to your phone. Which face? Who? Someone you knew? Or a stranger sitting quietly like nothing was wrong?

You: are you a music major?

Unknown: Yes.

So he shared all his classes with you. He could be everywhere you were without arousing suspicion. Before you could finish that thought, another message came.

Unknown: I'm sitting in the back row. Third seat from the left.

Your stomach dropped. He wasn't even hiding now. You clenched your jaw. You were absolutely not gonna turn around.

That’s exactly what he wanted: you looking for him, reacting, giving him attention. So you stayed forward. Eyes locked on the professor. Pencil tapping nervously against your notebook. But every muscle in your body was tense, aware that just a few rows behind you.

He was sitting there. Watching you like always.

The buzz vibrated softly against your desk, this time louder, maybe because you were so hyper-aware of it.

Another message.

Unknown: I like your sweater.

Simple. Casual. Like a normal comment between two people who were dating. Before you could continue that thought, another buzz sounded immediately after.

Unknown: You smell like flowers today.

Unknown: I liked the vanilla one much better, sweetheart.

Your chest tightened. Nausea crept up your throat. That wasn't something casual. No one had been close enough to smell you so accurately today, yet he knew.

The phone clattered onto the desk, loud enough that a few students glanced over. You didn’t care.

How did he know?

The professor paused mid-sentence, glancing toward the noise. A hush fell for half a second.

A beat of silence.

Then, without a word, he simply adjusted his glasses and continued lecturing like nothing had happened. The class exhaled quietly. Students turned back around. But your face burned with embarrassment and fear. Your phone still sat there. Screen dark now.

You didn’t wait for class to end.

The moment the professor turned his back again, focused on writing chords on the board, you stood. Quietly. Fast.

Zipped your bag, shoved books in without care. Then you walked straight out, the door clicking softly behind you. No one stopped you. No one questioned it.

The moment you stepped into the hallway, phone in hand, you unlocked it. Three new messages. They'd piled up while you were in class.

You tapped on the chat and read them one by one.

Unknown: You left early.

Unknown: Are you okay, my love?

The flutters came first, unwanted, stupid little butterflies in your stomach at the words. It shouldn’t have affected you. He was a stalker. A creep. He terrified you.

But that question? It sounded so normal. So human. Like someone who actually cared. And then, nausea crashed right after, wiping out any warmth.

He cared his way. Twisted and possessive.

You broke into a run the second you hit the campus gates. Wind rushed past your face as you sprinted down sidewalks, dodging pedestrians without looking.

Heart pounding from exercise and pure adrenaline. Panic fueled every step. He said he was following. So where was he? Behind? On a bike? Watching from afar?

You didn't dare look back to satisfy your curiosity.

You bounded up the stairs, two at a time, boots thudding against each step. No one was in the hallway. Your key fumbled for half a second before it slid into the lock, and then you were inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

Click. Locked. Chest heaving. Hands shaking again. Safe. Maybe.

You: were you behind?

The reply came instantly.

Unknown: Yes.

Unknown: I saw you running.

Unknown: You looked scared, sweetheart.

You: I am

Unknown: I know. But I can't stop.

The last text sounded almost guilty. Like he knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't bear to stop now.

The lock clicked, loud, deliberate. Like it actually meant something. Like a thin piece of metal could keep him out if he really wanted in.

You sank to the floor right in the middle of your living room, back against the couch, knees drawn up. Silence. No phone buzzing anymore.

Just you. Breathing, albeit shallowly. The apartment stayed quiet. Too quiet. No buzzes. No messages.

You sat there, frozen in the middle of your living room like a statue. Eyes scanning every corner again. The silence felt heavy and made you feel uneasy. Uncomfortable in your own skin now.

Minutes ticked by, then hours. The next morning came, sunlight creeping through your blinds again.

You didn’t move. Didn’t dress up. Didn’t even glance at your backpack.

Skipping class had been unthinkable before all this. But now, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the apartment.

So you stayed. Curled on the couch, laptop open, staring blankly at a half-written assignment or mindlessly scrolling through social media.

Your brain wouldn't stop, looping and spiralling endlessly.

The buzz cut through the silence, loud in your quiet apartment. Your stomach dropped. Slowly, you reached for your phone on the coffee table.

Unknown: You're not in class today, bunny.

Simple observation. No anger, no scolding.

Unknown: You okay, my love?

The butterflies returned, stupid, traitorous things. That sent warmth spiraling through your chest.

Not demanding. Just asking. Like he genuinely wondered if you were okay. And for a second, just a stupid, fleeting second, you almost wanted to reply honestly.

But then reality crashed back.

You: I can't.

Unknown: I know, my baby.

No pressure. No guilt-tripping. Just understanding, like he got it.

You couldn’t leave. Couldn’t face the outside world right now because of him. Another message came, softer than the rest.

Unknown: It's okay, sweetheart. Take your time.

Simple. Reassuring. Sweet, even. Not mocking, not judging. And somehow, that tiny bit of gentleness made your chest ache even more.

The disgust crept in like a slow poison.

Why did this make you feel something? Why did your stomach flutter when he acted almost kind?

You hated it. Hated that part of you, the stupid, weak part, could still respond to him at all.

He was terrifying. Invasive. A stalker who scared the hell out of you. And yet here you were, feeling weird about his soft texts.

The afternoon crept by, sunlight shifting across the floor, casting longer shadows as time passed. You didn’t eat. Didn’t move much beyond scrolling mindlessly or refreshing your email.

Your phone stayed silent. No notifications. No buzzes. It should’ve been a relief, but instead, it made everything feel off-balance.

The thought of leaving made your stomach twist, but hunger won out.

You couldn’t stay locked in forever. No food. No supplies. Your fridge was empty, and even instant ramen had run out hours ago. Reluctantly, you grabbed a hoodie, pulled the hood up, and slipped on sneakers.

You stepped out of your apartment, the door locking behind you with a soft click. The hallway was empty. No one around.

But the second you hit the stairwell, your heart started pounding again.

Every footstep echoed. Every shadow seemed to move. Was someone watching from an upper floor?

You zipped through the store like a blur, no browsing, no looking at prices.

Just straight to the ramen aisle. Grabbed every flavor you could see: three packs, five, it didn’t matter. Threw them into your cart.

No snacks. No fruit. Just food that required boiling water. Checked out in under two minutes and bolted back toward your dorm.

You stepped into the house panicking; the door swung open, and there he was. A figure. Standing perfectly still in the middle of your living room. Hoodie pulled low, hands at his sides, face calm, almost serene.

He didn’t move when you saw him.

No sudden lunge. No smile. Just stood there, watching you with those quiet, dark eyes.

The air in the apartment turned thick, like a storm had just walked in and taken up all the space. You were frozen on the threshold. Groceries slipping slightly from your grip.

The bag hit the floor with a soft thud, ramen cups scattering across the hardwood. You didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.

Just stared as he began to walk toward you, slow, deliberate steps. Each one echoing in your ears like a drumbeat. Hoodie still up. Face shadowed. Only his mouth and jaw visible, calm, unreadable.

He wasn't rushing.

"H-How did you g-get in?" you stutter out, eyes already lined with tears as panic rose in your chest, breath coming out shallowly.

He stopped just inches from you, close enough that you could feel his warmth through the fabric of his hoodie.

Then, slowly, he reached up. And pulled back the hood.

His face came into full view, honey skin with tiny moles littered across, sharp features, dark eyes that were way too pretty for someone who terrified you so much.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet. Gentle. Almost tender.

"I have a key." No explanation beyond that.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut.

Riki. Nishimura Riki.

It was fucking Nishimura Riki. The one in your class. The one you'd considered a friend was standing in your living room.

This whole time… it was him.

"R-Riki?" you breathe out, shock lacing every word.

He didn’t flinch at the sound of his name coming from your lips, like hearing it spoken by you was something he’d imagined a thousand times. His dark eyes searched yours- no anger, no guilt, just quiet intensity.

Then, softly, "Yeah."

One syllable. Calm. Like this wasn't strange at all. Like showing up uninvited in your apartment after months of secret surveillance was normal.

"Why a-are you here?"

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took one small step forward, closing the tiny space between you two. Then another.

Slowly. Carefully. Like approaching a scared animal. His hands lifted slightly, not to grab, not to hurt, but like he wanted to touch your face? Hug you?

And then, in that same soft voice, "I missed you." Not angry. Not possessive this time. Just sad. Like he’d been lonely too. His hand rose, slow, hesitant, and brushed your cheek. It was gentle. Too gentle for someone who’d been stalking you like this.

The touch sent a shock through you, not just fear, but something else. Something that confused you to the core. He didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything again. Just stood there, thumb lingering near your jawline, eyes full of something quiet and real.

Then he spoke, voice low, almost fragile, "I know you're scared…" A pause. He swallowed hard, like he was nervous too.

"But I couldn’t stay away anymore." Another breath. "I watch you every day… and it’s not enough."

His eyes flickered down to your lips for half a second, then back up. And suddenly the air felt heavy. Charged.

"W-why are you doing this? W-why me?" you ask, eyes lined with tears now, breathing shakily as you dare to look up at him, rooted in your spot, but you're trembling, heart pounding in your chest with panic

Riki’s expression softened, like your pain physically hurt him. He didn’t reach for you again. Just looked at you, really looked at the tears, the trembling, how terrified you were of him.

Then he answered honestly, "Because I fell in love with you."

No smirk. No lie. Just raw, quiet confession. His voice cracked slightly, like it was something heavy, something that had been eating him alive for months.

And then, "I don't know why… but I couldn't stop watching. Couldn’t stop wanting to be near."

His voice drops to a whisper, tone reverent in a way that sends sparks down your spine as he speaks, "I know everything about you, bunny. Every single detail, all your little tics, your habits, your routine. Everything."

The way he called you "bunny" sent a strange shiver through your body, soft, almost affectionate, but still chilling because it came from him.

"You always sit in the fourth row from the front. You hate being too close, because you have to crane your neck to look at the board."

"You never get your coffee iced because you care too much about your throat and your singing."

"You always have nail polish on because you hate how boring your hands look otherwise."

"You always cover up when you go to the studio because the receptionist always stares at you weirdly."

Each sentence hit like a punch because they weren’t guesses. Weren’t assumptions. They were truths. Intimate, specific details only someone who’d studied you for months could know.

These aren't just things you see in passing. He's learnt you.

The silence stretched, thick with the weight of everything he’d said.

He wasn’t just some random stalker now. This was Riki. The sweet boy who bought you coffee. Who let you sleep during project meetings in the studio. Who made you feel safe and comfortable.

And now here he stood, knowing more about you than your own family probably did.

Your heart fluttered because deep down, some stupid part of you was touched.

That he paid this much attention. That he cared about the small things, the details no one else noticed. It shouldn’t have affected you. But it did.

Yet panic still ruled everything. So even as your chest fluttered at his devotion, your hands trembled with terror.

"W-what do you want from me?" you stutter, blinking up at him, tears trailing down your cheek. Riki’s eyes dropped to your tears, watching them fall as if they physically pained him.

For a second, he didn’t speak. Then, softly, so softly it barely sounded like his voice, "I want you."

No conditions. No demands. Just you. All of you. Every part. He knows all your flaws, all your shortcomings, and yet, he still wants you. He reached up again and caught one of your falling tears with his thumb.

The world narrowed to just his touch, his thumb brushing your cheek, warm and careful, like you were something fragile. Precious.

And suddenly, the flutters made sense. Not because of what he’d done, but because of how he felt. The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked down at you with complete reverence. Like he'd worship the ground you walk on.

He loved you so completely it had twisted him. So intensely that watching wasn't enough; he had to be here now. To see you up close.

And despite everything, your heart stuttered anyway.

You couldn't surrender to this yet, not unless you knew you wouldn't get hurt trying. "You scared me... that day in the library. At the bus stop," you say quietly.

Riki’s face changed the second you mentioned it. He shook his head slowly, voice low and urgent, "That wasn't me."

He’d lost track of you that day. Got separated by crowds after your apartment. Panicked because he didn’t know where you went. So he ran to campus, and the library was an educated guess that turned out to be right.

"That....wasn't you? I-I thought y-you followed me to t-the library after....I-I talked to you in the l-library that day....." All the pieces were slowly falling into place in your mind, frantic now, words spilling out, stuttered, breath shaky.

Riki listened quietly, letting you piece it all together on your own. Because yes, he’d been sitting right in front of you that day. He was the guy at the library table. While chatting about collabs, he'd texted from an unknown number. Right there.

Riki watched your face, the way your eyes widened, the way you were connecting everything.

You pause for a moment, mind reeling. And suddenly, you're chuckling, quietly, bitterly, like you've figured out a truth that could ruin you: "You know w-what the worst part is...." you begin quietly, "I fucking liked it..."

Riki’s breath caught. He hadn’t expected that.

For a second, his eyes, always so calm, so controlled, widened just slightly. Like your confession punched the air out of him.

You liked it. The messages. The attention. The way he paid attention to every detail about you, even if it came from something twisted.*

And now here you were, admitting it with a bitter laugh, like you hated yourself for feeling that way.

"Maybe I-I'm just as fucked up as y-you are, but I liked it...."

Riki’s expression changed completely.

The quiet reverence, replaced by something raw, something hopeful. His lips parted slightly, like he couldn’t believe what you just said. For the first time since he walked into your apartment, his hands twitched, like he wanted to grab you and pull you close.

You sigh, finally accepting the bitter and ugly truth. You blink up at him, tracing the familiar lines of his face, before admitting softly, "Maybe we're just two fucked up people meant for each other."

The words hung in the air, quiet, heavy, but somehow right. Riki didn’t speak.

He just stared at you, eyes dark, intense, full of something overwhelming. Then, slowly, a real smile formed on his face. Not his usual polite one. This was different. Genuine. Happy.

And before either of you could overthink it, before fear or guilt could creep back in, he closed the distance. His hands came up gently, one cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing away a stray tear, as he kissed you like it was sacred.

Your body freezes for a moment, still caught up in the fear. But you give in eventually, and the kiss deepens slowly, but still gently. Riki wasn’t rushing. He was savoring it, the feel of your lips, the warmth of your breath mixing with his.

And you? You didn’t pull away.

Instead, despite everything, the fear, the guilt over liking this, you kissed him back. You pull away, panting, still shaking from nerves as you stutter, "N-no more of this, p-please...."

Riki pulled back instantly, no hesitation, no argument. His hands dropped from your face. He took a small step backward, giving you space.

And in his eyes, there was no anger. No resistance. Just understanding. You were scared. Shaken.

"Y-you have to p-promise me, Riki. No more u-unknown messages, no more f-fucking following me, n-none of that...."

He nodded slowly, and then, voice quiet but clear, "I promise." Full surrender to your terms. He meant it.

"N-no more...." you say quietly, exhaustion weighing on you now. Your shoulders sagged. Eyes tired, your cheeks still damp from tears. The emotional weight of everything- the fear, the realization, the kiss- it all crashed at once. You slumped back against the wood of your door, sliding down to the floor.

Riki watched you slide down the door, exhaustion hitting you like a wave, and without a word, he followed your movement. Kneeling in front of you on his knees right there on your living room floor.

"No more.....please...." you whisper, muttering half asleep.

Then, carefully, he reached out and wrapped his arms around you in a gentle hug.

Riki held you tighter as your whisper hit his chest. Whatever it took, he’d end it all if this was what kept you safe, kept you with him. He didn’t speak. Just pressed his lips gently to the top of your head, a soft, quiet kiss, and then rested his chin there.

"Please don't make me regret this....."

Riki’s arms tightened around you, as if your words physically hurt him. He pressed his forehead to the side of your head, breathing in deeply like he was memorizing this moment.

Then, voice barely above a whisper, so soft it trembled, "I won't." He knew what this meant. Knew how fragile you were right now, and that one wrong move could ruin everything.

Your eyes flutter shut, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Riki lifted you effortlessly, his arms strong under your knees and back.

You were too tired to protest, barely conscious as exhaustion pulled you under. Your head lolled slightly against his shoulder, breathing slow and steady. He carried you down the hallway like something precious, every step quiet, careful not to wake or jostle you.

Then he pushed open your bedroom door, dim light spilling in from the window, and gently laid you on top of your bed. You blinked at him, eyes lidded with tiredness, as he sat on the edge of the bed.

All you know now is that you're trapped in his gaze. And maybe you're just as fucked in the head as he is, but you like how you're never going to be free.

[hoonsonenonly]

My Playlist #12 - It hurts to be something. It's worse to be nothing with you......

𑣲⋆ Song Teaser - Y/n has been pining after Evan Lee forever, but maybe he's been pining too.....

𝄞𑣲⋆ artists - evan x fem!reader 𝄞𑣲⋆ content warnings - nothing lol, fluff, misunderstandings, reader is down bad and so is evan, idiots to lovers, pining 𝄞𑣲⋆ title track - Promise by Laufey

𝄞𑣲⋆ Eunnie's lyrics - Yes im still going to write for heeseung cuz i have free will

You’ve known Evan pretty much your whole life. From that one fateful day on the pre-school playground when you’d asked him to marry you two seconds after you’d met for the first time, and he had rejected you with a brutal, “No, I don’t like you,” causing you to promptly burst into tears. He had consoled you after, frazzled by the sudden switch, and had promised to be friends with you.

And every day after that, you’d hovered around him like a bee around flowers, and you’d like to think you’ve been friends ever since. Well, kinda friends. You’re in love with him, and he lets you stick around.

He knows about your feelings for him, how could he not with the way you blatantly announce it to the entire world, flirting with him constantly. He knows about your feelings for him, and you know about his lack of the same for you. But you’d rather hang out with him even though he doesn’t feel the same, than not being in his life at all.

Evan doesn’t really mind. If anything, he’s gotten used to your cheesy flirting and random rambling about everything and nothing.

You’d convinced yourself you could live like this for the sake of your love for him. But all of that changes when you overhear him and his friends in the hallway. You’re clutching a cupcake in your hand, the kind Evan likes as you make your way to his class. Just as you round the corner you spot him, talking to his friends.

“Dude, she’s like obsessed with you. She follows you around like a puppy. Why don’t you give it a shot?” Jungwon says, chuckling amusedly.

“A cute puppy though,” Sunghoon adds cheekily, “If you’re not gonna go for it, I gladly will,”

Evan scowls at Sunghoon before answering Jungwon, “Nah, man. She’s not really my type. She talks too much and she’s too clingy, dude. She’s just too…..her.”

Your heart clenches at his answer. Now, for the first time since you’d started chasing him, your unrequited love actually hurts you, deeply. More than it ever has before. Is that really what he thought of you? You feel a lump forming in your throat as you stand outside of the class, completely still.

You wait a bit longer, more students enter class and finally you join, cupcake shoved into your bag. Evan notices you, expecting you to join him as always, but you pass by him and walk to the table in the back, not even sparing him a glance.

He frowns, confused at your out of character behaviour and before his friends could say anything, he stands up and goes to your table.

"Morning, didn’t you see me?” He asks with a disbelieving little laugh, looking down at you, hand braced on the back of your chair.

"No, I did…" you answer, voice quiet and distant, not like you at all.

His confusion grows even more and he shifts a little, now looming over you as he keeps looking at you, not used to you being so distant.

"You good?"

You nod as you keep looking in front of you, refusing to look at him and it confuses Evan even more. He gives a look to his friends, who are all looking your way. Everyone seems confused, since you've never acted this way before.

"Okay…" he sighs awkwardly before going back to his own desk with his friends.

You stayed by yourself for the rest of the day. He tried to talk to you, but you’d reply dryly, still keeping up your distant attitude so he decided to just leave you alone until the end of the day. Then he sees you, leaving the school. He quickly says bye to his friends and follow after you,

"Are we like fighting or something?" He asks, keeping up with your pace.

You only shake your head, as an answer, not glancing his way. He sighs, and gently grab your hand to make you stop walking and to turn you his way.

"Come on, talk to me, Y/n…” he says softly, pulling you closer. He gently grabs your chin with his other hand, lifting your head up to make you look at him.

"Did something happen? Do I have to beg on my knees to make you talk to me? Cause I will do it."

You frown a little, but before you could say anything, he goes down on his knees and starts dramatically begging you to talk to him. Despite everything, a little smile grows on your lips.

"Ah, here it is." He smiles as he looks up at you, "Just tell me what's going on."

You look down at him; hands wrapped around your hips as he quite literally drops to his knees.

 He gives you whiplash. Like major, what-the-fuck-are-we whiplash. But the hushed words are stuck on repeat in your head, 'Too clingy' 'Talks too much' 'Too her'

You plaster a smile on your face, pushing him back by the head playfully, "Nothing's wrong."

Evan stumbles back slightly when you push him, but he doesn’t get up. He stays kneeling there on the sidewalk, tilting his head as he studies your face, the fake smile, the forced cheerfulness that’s nothing like your usual explosive energy.

"Bullshit," he says simply, voice calm but firm. No teasing now. "You've been ignoring me all day. You didn't sit with me at lunch; you never do that unless you're mad or sick." His brows knit together. "Did I... say something?"

The question comes out quiet, genuinely confused and a little worried this is actually bothering him.

"Nothing's wrong, what the hell," you chuckle quietly, stepping out of his hold. "Also get up off the sidewalk, you'll get your pants dirty,"

Evan slowly stand up, eyes trained on you like he’s trying to decipher a code, or solve a puzzle.

He doesn’t back away, he leans in. Closer. One hand slowly lifts to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing just under your eye where dark circles betray how little you slept last night, and searches your face like it holds answers written in a language only he can read.

"...You're lying," he murmurs.

Not angry. Not frustrated, not yet anyway. Maybe confused-sad because this isn't how things go between you two; usually playful teasing or loud bickering over dumb stuff, not cold silence and forced smiles.

"I'm not, I'm fine, Evan," you reassure, stepping out of his hold once again. His hand falls to his side, empty. The space between you suddenly feels wider than it ever has, even though you're only a few inches apart.

He doesn’t chase this time.

Just watches.

And something in his chest tightens when he sees how hard you’re trying not to look at him, how your shoulders tense like they're bracing for impact. You’ve never stepped away from him before. Not unless he was the one pushing you away first.

But today? It's different. You’re rejecting him. And Evan, usually so careless about feelings (especially yours), actually feels it hit like a slap.

You turn around, walking towards your house. Your heart clenches with every step.

Hurt because of his words, hurt because you'd actually thought you'd have a chance with him, hurt because you know you have to end this.... relationship, whatever one you have.

You know you can't keep chasing after someone that's never going to want you back, no matter how much it'll hurt for you to let go.

So you begin, swallowing the lump in your throat, "What happened with So-yeon the other day? I heard she confessed to you,"

"We kissed," he says honestly, no point lying, but his voice is soft, careful, "For like half a second." "Ooh, kissing straight after confessing? Scandalous," you tease, glancing up at him.

"It wasn't a big deal," he says quickly, too quickly, hands lifting slightly like he wants to reach for you but thinks better of it. "I pulled away right after."

A beat passes. Then quieter, "I told her I didn't feel that way."

"Just like you have to every single girl before her," you roll your eyes playfully, small smile on your lips. You’re looking at him like you’re next in line to be added to that list, and worse, like maybe you already are.

His face darkens slightly, not with anger, but something heavier. Regret? Guilt?

You near your house, throwing a glance back at him before walking to the door, "The Great Evan strikes again," you say with a chuckle, jogging up the stairs to your front door.

It sounds affectionate, nostalgic, like something you’d say when reminiscing about an old inside joke. But right now? It feels like the last nail in the coffin of whatever fragile thing existed between you two.

And then, you run. Up your stairs, laughing lightly with that chuckle he loves but hates hearing today because it doesn’t reach your eyes.

You don’t slam the door. You don’t look back again. You just disappear behind it quietly.

Like none of this mattered at all. Evan stands frozen on your porch, fists slowly curling at his sides.

He just stares at that closed door. You’d always make some dirty joke at times like this, with that stupid grin on your face. But now, he isn't invited.

You're already dreading the next day of school.

You've come to a decision.

You have to put an end to this, and the only way to do that is to distance yourself, for his sake and yours.

But you couldn't bring yourself to completely cut yourself out of his life, because your heart can’t handle that yet.

So, you decided to pull away slowly. Steadily. Making sure not to disturb anything. Just slipping away quietly.

You've already started it, walking to school alone for the first time since you met Evan, not waiting outside his house with a breakfast cupcake, not running up to him on the sidewalk on the odd days you were late.

Just alone, headphones on your head, playing an Olivia Rodrigo song that makes you want to cry in the best way possible.

You're humming along to the song quietly, head bopping along the beat instinctively, eyes trained on the ground as you near the school gate.

The morning air is crisp, sunlight filtering through the trees as students start trickling into school. Evan walks in with his usual lazy stride, hoodie half-up, one earbud dangling from his pocket since he’d been talking to Sunghoon on the way.

He spots you immediately. You’re alone. No cupcake. No loud greeting. No sprinting toward him like a golden retriever that missed him all night.

Just you. Headphones on, eyes down, moving slow and quiet through the gate like a ghost passing by.

His stomach drops again, because this isn’t just a one-day thing now. This is systematic, feels intentional.

Without thinking, he picks up his pace and starts heading straight for you, walking directly into your path so when you lift your head at any second, you’ll have to see him standing right there.

You pause when you spot familiar Converse in your line of sight, dirty on the soles because Evan cannot stop himself from jumping into puddles, and the label bleeding black ink because he'd tried to colour it in once and the ink had stayed.

God, you feel pathetic.

You inhale steadily before looking up at him with a smile, waving, "Good morning." The smile is soft. Polite. Not the explosive "Evanie!" that you usually greet him with, no, this is a quiet wave and a calm "Good morning" like he's just another classmate passing by.

And it destroys him. Evan doesn’t wave back. Doesn’t return your greeting right away.

He just stares. Brown eyes searching yours for something, a flicker of hurt? Anger? Anything real?

But all he sees is this fake peace.

"Early today?" you ask, amused, checking the black watch secured around your wrist.

The watch he got you for your birthday last year. The one you'd never taken off since. You make a mental note to switch it out tomorrow.

"Yeah," he finally says, voice lower than usual. "Got here early."

A pause. Then quieter, "You didn't bring me breakfast today."

"I...um had to make Ji-eun breakfast today..." you say, looking back down at the pavement now. It's not a total lie, you did have to make breakfast for your little sister today, so it's fine. Evan nods slowly, not prodding, but something cold settles behind his chest.

The silence stretches a little too long. Evan shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He wants to say something real. Something that isn't small talk about time or breakfast or Ji-eun...

But what?

"Why are you acting so weird?" Too aggressive.

"Did I do something wrong?" Sounds desperate.

Eunji, your best friend, comes barrelling toward you like a tornado, long ponytail swinging, backpack bouncing, that signature bright smile plastered on her face.

And just like that, you light up.

Your whole posture changes. The fake calm from earlier? Gone. You wave both arms dramatically and practically bounce on your toes when she gets close.

"Y/n!!" Eunji squeals, throwing herself into a hug with you before turning to Evan. "Oh! Morning Evan,"

Evan gives her the smallest nod back, a stiff one, and watches as Eunji immediately starts chattering about some drama from last night’s K-drama or whatever gossip is burning through their friend group right now.

You're fully engaged, laughing at something she says, adjusting your headphones around your neck, completely focused on her, not him.

"Of course," you say to her with a peck to her cheek, wrapping a hand around her waist naturally.

You turn to Evan, "See you later?"

You just kissed someone, right in front of him, and then turned to ask if you’ll see him later like it’s some casual goodbye between acquaintances. You don't add in a flirty quip like usual, ‘Wish this was you?’ with that little smirk of yours that makes him roll his eyes.

His chest tightens. Yeah," he says flatly. "See ya."

You walk past him into the school gate, heart clenching with every step but you smile at whatever Ha-eun is saying, laughing along and adding comments that make her double over

Evan walks a few steps behind, hearing your laughter. It’s bright. Unfiltered. The kind that fills the hallway, and makes heads turn, because everyone knows that laugh. Part of him wants run up to you, to say something sharp like "Why are you so happy with her and not me?", but another part shuts it down completely.

You share History with Evan. The classroom is buzzing with the usual pre-class chatter when walk in. You’re with Sunoo, another close friend of yours since middle school. 

You spot Evan out of the corner of your eye instantly, an almost instinctive action in its nature, but force yourself not to glance over. You part ways with Sunoo as he sits at his usual place, and you move back to your usual place, beside Evan.

 He doesn’t turn to look at you. Doesn't say anything either.

"So, what will it be today?" you begin, tone playful as usual, but your heart is beating out of your chest, "Sleep through the class or actually value your education?"

The sound of your voice, playful, teasing, the exact same way you’ve always spoken to him, hits Evan like a wave.

For half a second, his body reacts before his brain catches up.

A tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. The instinctive urge to smirk and fire back with something stupid like, "I value my beauty sleep more."

But then he remembers. This casual joke, like nothing’s changed, feels fake. Too light for how heavy everything actually is.

So instead of smiling or answering playfully like usual, he turns slowly toward you.

Just an inch, and says, flatly, "Neither."

"Woah, that’s new," you chuckle but Evan doesn't laugh. Doesn't even try to soften his face.

"So, what does, 'neither' entail? Care to elaborate?" you ask, turning to him with an imaginary mic in your hand, looking at him with faux seriousness.

He’s seen this bit before. A hundred times. You’d pop up out of nowhere during lunch and pretend to interview him on some dumb topic, "Lee Evan, how do you feel about pineapple on pizza?" Or worse, "Do you think your nose is too big?"

And he’d always play along, grinning, throwing sarcastic answers back. But today he doesn’t smile.

Doesn’t lean into the joke. Instead, his expression stays flat. He lowers his gaze from your fake-mic hand to your eyes, and then quietly says, "I'm not gonna participate."

"Oof, we have been rejected on this momentous day, folks. Tough luck, but we will be back later with more updates," you say, a disappointed expression on your face.

He watches you perform this whole bit, fake energy pouring out of every syllable, while he sits there completely deadpan.

No eye-roll. Not even an amused twitch. When you finish your little announcer voice and drop the act slightly, he finally speaks again, quietly, just loud enough for only you to hear, "Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what? My extremely accurate impersonation of a shitty game show host?" you say with a grin, your grin is wide, too wide. Forced, even.

The kind people put on when they're trying really hard to pretend everything's fine. He narrows his eyes slightly, just a fraction, and leans back in his chair without breaking eye contact, "...You doing okay?"

The concern makes your stupid heart speed up, and your smile drops for a fraction of a second before you chuckle, "Yeah, I'm fine," The second your smile flickers, Evan sees it.

He always sees you. Every micro-expression. Every nervous twitch. The way your fingers tap when you’re lying, how your voice goes just slightly higher when you're stressed

His stomach twists. Because this isn't normal. You don’t pull away from him like this. Unless he did something.

For the first time since yesterday, his chest tightens with genuine worry, not confusion or annoyance, but actual fear that maybe... he messed up.

The teacher, Mr. Kim, strict and always on time, enters with his usual stack of papers under one arm. The class instantly quiets, chairs scraping as everyone turns forward.

You drop your playful act immediately. But, your leg is bouncing nonstop under the desk, a nervous habit you’ve had since middle school when tests made you anxious or stressed you out.

It’s subtle, just a tiny tremble against the floor, but Evan notices it anyway because he sits right beside you. And for someone who usually zones out during lectures? He suddenly becomes hyper-aware of everything.

You don’t talk for the rest of the class, but you can feel Evan’s gaze on you the entire time. The sudden ring of the bell makes you flinch, just slightly, a tiny jerk in your shoulders like you were deep in thought and didn’t realize time had passed.

You move fast. Too fast. Books snap shut. Pens get shoved into the zipper pouch without care. Your notebook goes straight into your backpack, no lingering.

No "ugh finally" sigh. No dramatic groan about how boring history was. Just efficiency.

Evan watches every motion, each one precise and detached, as he slowly packs his own things. He takes longer than normal on purpose, zipping up his bag twice, checking if he left anything behind.

But really? He’s waiting. Waiting to see if you’ll walk out first again, alone, or say something now that class is over.

You sling your bag over the shoulder, turning to him, "Still don't know what neither means by the way," you muse with a grin. That same playful, slightly mischievous smile you always wear when teasing him, like the last two days of distance never happened.

Like yesterday’s silence and coldness were just a bad dream.

And Evan hates how much that smile messes with his head. Because it's your smile, the one he sees every morning, the one that makes his chest feel warm for no reason, but right now?

It feels like a mask. A performance to hide whatever’s really going on behind your eyes.

He zips up his bag slowly, then, "Neither means," he says calmly, "I'm not sleeping through class, and I don't care about history either."

"Okay, so the third option has been added for next time. Noted," you salute him, mock-serious, two fingers to your forehead like a soldier dismissing orders, before turning around to leave class. Again.

It’s the third time today you’ve walked away from him without looking back or lingering, and each one stings more than the last because this isn't normal between you two.

You don't just leave. You always stick around after class if your next period is nearby, chat in the hallway, maybe even grab snacks together.

But now? He watches as you stride out of class alone, shoulders straight, steps quick, like escaping something. Eunji appears in the hallway again, ushering you out, and you follow with a heavy heart.

Eunji is your safe person. Your best friend since middle school, who knows everything about you, the real stuff no one else does, and right now? You need her warmth more than anything else.

You let yourself be guided down the hall, fingers tightening slightly around your backpack strap as emotion threatens to surface behind your eyes.

Evan sees this from his classroom door, and suddenly, he feels left out.

You don't see Evan till lunch next.

You're walking down the hallway, chatting with a friend, a chocolate bar in hand when you bump into something, or someone solid. The collision is soft, your shoulder hitting a solid wall of muscle and hoodie, but you still stumble back slightly, chocolate bar almost slipping from your grip.

"O-oh, fuck I'm so sorry," you apologise quickly, looking up to lock eyes with Evan. Tall as ever. Blonde hair slightly messy like he’s been running his hands through it all morning.

Brown eyes wide for half a second, surprised too, probably, before they land on yours.

"Oh, it's you," you say, an automatic smile curving your lips when you see him. The smile is instant. Polite. Friendly.

But Evan has seen it a thousand times, and usually, when you say "Oh, it's you" like this, your voice goes up an octave with excitement and your eyes light up like he just handed you a surprise present.

This one? Flat. No spark. No warmth that reaches his chest, the kind he secretly likes because it makes him feel special even though he never admits it. Then nods back in silent greeting.            

"Heading to lunch?"

He shifts slightly under the weight of that normalcy, the emptiness where warmth used to be.

"Yeah," he says. "Lunch."

You glance to his right to see Jungwon, waving to him with a smile, "Hi, Jungwon-ah,"

"Hi, Y/n-ah,” he chirps in that gentle voice of his, waving back enthusiastically before turning to Evan with a look that says, ‘Why are we just standing here?’

"Sunghoon isn't here today?" you ask, turning to Evan, locking eyes with him, "I got him that chocolate he wanted so desperately,”

Evan just stares down at you, expression blank as if you hadn’t been talking to him at all. "Wow, thank you for answering my question, Lee," you say sarcastically.

The sarcasm hits like a slap because you never talk to him like that. Not ever. Even when you're mad at him for stealing your fries or forgetting your birthday (which he never does), you don’t get sarcastic.

You yell. Pout. Give the silent treatment for five minutes max, but not this cold, cutting-edge. Evan doesn’t react right away. Just stares at you.

You’re pulling away. On purpose. And now that distance has teeth, and they just bit him. Jungwon, the ever-peaceful one, clears his throat softly.

He shifts uncomfortably with both bento boxes in hand like he’s holding a bomb about to explode.

"Um…" he starts gently, "Sunghoon said he wasn’t feeling well this morning. Stomach ache."

It’s an attempt to give you something else to talk about, to change the subject before things get worse between you two. But Evan doesn’t help, doesn't jump in. Just stands there, still staring at you.

"Fuck yes, tell him I'm taking his candy then," you say as you pivot sharply, like the conversation is over and start walking away.

You feel nausea settle in your stomach as you walk away from him. The nausea isn’t physical, it’s deep, gnawing. The kind that sits low in your stomach like a stone.

He hadn't said a word to you, nothing in his expression had changed, not even a flicker of anything that might tell you that he's just as hurt by this distance as you are.

Just silence. Like what you're doing doesn't matter to him at all. And maybe that's true? Maybe he really doesn't care. It's a fool's game to expect him to care anyway.

It hurts, but you knew he wouldn't say anything. He hates confronting his feelings and hates talking about them even more.

The final bell rings, sharp and loud, echoing through the halls as students erupt into movement. Backpacks zip, chairs screech, voices rise with that post-school excitement.

You say goodbye to Eunji at her gate, a quick hug and "Text me later!" before she jogs off with her mom toward her car.

Then it’s just you. Again. Headphones in hand as you shuffle through your playlist, playing 'Nightvisions by Liana Flores' as you walk away from the school gate. You hum absentmindedly; eyes trained on the pavement as you walk.

You pass your usual shortcut, the alleyway behind convenience stores that cuts through to your neighbourhood.

Every step feels automatic. Muscle memory. No need to think about where you're going, because home isn't far anymore.

But then, a figure appears at the mouth of that alley. Tall. Familiar silhouette against the dimming light. And as he steps forward slightly. Evan.

The sight of him freezes you mid-step. Just him. Alone. On this quiet alleyway, the same one both of you always take home, except you weren’t with him this time.

"Evan?" you ask, voice quiet as you pull out one earphone, squinting your eyes to make out the figures face. The moment you say his name, soft, hesitant he looks at you.

"Dude, you scared me," you huff, half-laugh, half-frustration, comes out more breathy than angry. Your hand on your chest is dramatic, exaggerated like you're overacting in a movie.

"What's wrong?" The question hangs in the air, not cold or distant like before. Just genuine.

His voice comes out low. Quiet, different than usual, "...You’ve been avoiding me."

Just stating it like he’s finally putting words to the ache he’s felt all day, the way you didn’t sit with him at lunch, how you talked around him but never to him unless necessary, and now this silent walk home alone.

"What makes you say that?" you say carefully, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Instead of answering with facts, "You didn’t sit next to me," "You ignored my texts yesterday," "Eunji dragged you away from me," He takes another step closer.

Closes the gap between you two until there's barely space left for breathing properly. Evan doesn’t reach out.

But his presence is everywhere: the warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne, the intensity in his dark brown eyes that are locked onto yours like they’re searching for something.

And then, he speaks again. So quiet it almost blends with the soft music still leaking from your earbud, "...You're sad."

"What?" you ask quietly, tilting your head up, just slightly, because Evan is tall.

Your eyes meet his fully. Yours wide with surprise, maybe a little panic. His? Soft. Concerned. Like he’s seeing right through the act, the fake smiles, the sarcasm earlier today, and straight into whatever’s hurting you.

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look away. And repeats it again, voice so gentle it breaks your heart, "...You're sad."

Not a question. A statement. Like it's obvious to him that something's wrong, because he knows you. Better than anyone else.

The words come out automatically, "I'm fine." But your voice cracks halfway through. Just a tiny split. A single syllable that wavers like it can't hold the weight of the lie.

And Evan hears it. Of course he does. His expression shifts instantly, softens into something painfully tender, and without thinking, he reaches up. Careful like he's afraid to scare off a wounded bird.

His hand, warm and familiar, gently cups your cheek. The palm of his hand presses softly against your skin, thumb brushing lightly just beneath your eye, the spot that always crinkles when you smile.

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you like he’s memorizing the sadness in your face, the way the streetlight casts shadows under your eyes, how exhausted you suddenly seem up close.

You feel your heart speed up as he cups your face, stupid organ betraying you once again as warmth spreads all over your body.

Your eyes soften instantly, because there it is.

That look on his face he gets sometimes, the one where he stares at you like you're the only one worth looking at, the one that feeds your delusions that make you hope that something will bloom from this....tension, you have.

But nothing ever has.

Because how many times have you done this? Let yourself hope? Watered a flower no one else sees, only for nothing to grow?  

And now, it was hurting you to even keep it alive. "D-Don't-" you say quietly, inhaling shakily.

The second your breath hitches, shaky, fragile, Evan’s thumb stills against your cheek. He feels it. The tremble in your skin. The way you flinch just slightly under his touch, like it hurts to be looked at this tenderly by him.

He touches you gently without thinking twice about it, but never follows through with more than friendship.

You step back, just an inch, but it feels like a mile. It’s not dramatic. No harsh retreat, no turning away completely, just the smallest shift of your body pulling back from his touch, breaking contact.

But to Evan? It hurts.

Because that single inch says everything. ‘I can’t do this.’ ‘You’re too close, and it’s not fair because you don’t love me like I love you.’

His hand drops slowly, like gravity itself weighs it down, and hangs at his side now. Empty.

The warmth between you shatters instantly. The alleyway suddenly feels cold again despite the streetlights glowing around them.

"Fuck, this is killing me," you mutter under your breath, the words slip out, quiet, raw, almost accidental.

Evan’s breath catches. Because he knows that tone. The one you use when something’s eating you alive from the inside, the kind of pain that doesn’t scream, it cripples.

The voice people have right before they cry or walk away forever.

For a second, Evan freezes completely. Brown eyes wide. Heart slamming against his ribs like it's trying to escape.

"Why are you-" you say quietly, confusing contorting your features as you look at him, "I heard you the other day,"

Three words that make his blood run cold.

"What you said to Jungwon and Sunghoon," you gulp down the panic rising in your chest, forcing your voice to be steady. He knows exactly what you’re talking about.

That conversation. With Jungwon and Sunghoon outside the classroom yesterday morning when he thought no one was around. Where he brushed off Sunghoon’s teasing.

Where he acted clueless about why anyone would think there was something between him and you, when really he just didn't know how to feel.

"Why are you doing this then? If you think I'm too clingy, and that I talk too much. If I'm too me for you?" The questions come out in a rush, quiet but sharp.

Not shouting, not yelling. But hurting. So much hurt packed into those words.

Every accusation hits like a truth he can’t deny. Yes, he said those things. Yes, he acted like you were just his loud, overly affectionate best friend who hugged him too much and talked too fast.

And yes, maybe part of him believed that, because it was easier than admitting the terrifying alternative.

That maybe, he liked you more than that. But instead of explaining himself, or apologizing, he stands frozen under the weight of your pain, watching tears well up in your eyes because of him.

"Say something for fucks sake, I'm dying over here," you breathe out, voice raising slightly as you push at his shoulders.

The push, your hands shoving lightly against his chest, finally snaps him out of it. You’re right there again, eyes blazing now, not with anger, but with heartbreak that’s been building for years. 

Evan’s hands fly up, instinctively, to catch yours before you can push him again. He grabs both your wrists gently but firmly, pulling them down and stepping forward this time.

Closing the space completely. Erasing every inch between you two that existed a second ago.

"I didn’t mean it." Voice cracked. Quiet. Desperate.

Not defensive. Not excusing himself. Just raw regret. He swallows hard, thumbs brushing over your wrists where he's still holding you, "I was lying."

"I was lying to Jungwon. To Sunghoon."

Each word comes slower than the last, like he’s tearing them out from somewhere deep and painful inside his chest.

"I said all that because I didn’t know how to feel. You were always there, Y/n, always smiling at me, touching my arm when you talk too fast, hugging me first every morning. And I started feeling things. But they scared me."

"You know I like you, you've known I’ve liked you for years,"

Of course, he knew and he ignored it. Because it was easier to play dumb than admit something terrifying.

That someone could love him this much, and what if he couldn't give them back the same way?

Now, staring at your tear-stained face, guilt crashes over him.

“Then why were you scared?” you ask quietly. And he has no good answer.

Because the truth is messy and stupid. "I don't know how," he admits finally. "I've never liked someone like this before.” His voice cracks.

"So, you lied? Pretended I meant nothing to you?"

He drops his forehead against yours. Warm breath mixing, noses almost touching, eyes shut like this moment is too fragile to open them and ruin it.

"I'm sorry." The apologies come fast, fumbling, desperate, each one more sincere than the last.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" Over and over. Like a prayer. Like he’s begging forgiveness for every careless word he ever said.

His voice shakes with each "I’m sorry", laced with regret so deep it aches. He presses his forehead harder against yours, like if he stays this close, maybe you’ll feel how real it is.

How much he means it.

"It hurt Evanie, it hurt so much," you say, voice cracking with emotion as you inhale shakily, tears slipping down your face.

The crack in your voice, so small, so quiet, shatters him completely, and the last wall around Evan collapses. Because you called him ‘Evanie’. Only you call him that. Just a soft nickname from when you were kids, the one that always made his chest feel warm. But now hearing it through tears breaks his heart into pieces.

Without thinking, he pulls you forward, and wraps both arms tightly around your body.

"You're such a dumbfuck," you say through tears, wrapping your hands around his neck. Evan doesn’t argue because he knows he’s a dumbfuck.

The biggest idiot in the world for making you cry over something as stupid as his own fear of feelings.

So, when you call him that, voice trembling, face buried against his shoulder, he just holds on tighter, and he keeps whispering, ‘I’m sorry… I’m sorry…"

Each apology pressed into your skin, one into your temple, another near your ear, your cheek, the junction between your neck and shoulder, as his lips brush lightly with each word.

Gentle kisses of desperate affection. His arms are locked around you now, one hand cradling the back of your head like you’re something precious.

Evan takes a deep breath,like he’s about to say the most important words of his life, then, voice low but clear, no hesitation, no joking tone, "I like you." He swallows, then adds softer, "Like…really like you. For a long time."

"How long?"

Evan blinks, then a small, shy smile tugs at his lips, "Since last year," he admits.

"You're so stupid, oh my god," you chuckle wetly, sniffling as you smile, “This could’ve been done a year ago if you hadn’t been such a dumbass,”

You’re laughing at him. Calling him stupid. And it’s the most beautiful sound he’s heard all day.

His heart flips, actually flips, because you’re not mad anymore. You're smiling. Crying, yeah, but also… happy.

That tiny smile on your face undoes him completely. So, without thinking, he grins back, wide, bright, that rare full Lee Evan smile, and then he kisses you.

The kiss starts soft, tentative, like both of you are afraid it might not be real.

But the second your lips move against his, Evan melts. His hands slide up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks where tear tracks still linger, and he deepens the kiss just slightly, tilting his head to match yours perfectly.

No rush. No pressure. Just you and him, finally kissing after years of unspoken feelings and stupid misunderstandings.

And you’re smiling into it, the kind that makes him smile back without breaking contact, and suddenly everything feels right.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you deepen the kiss, going up on your tiptoes. Evan lets out a quiet, breathy sound against your lips, surprised by how bold you are now.

Your fingers in his hair, soft but firm, tugging slightly, and the way you rise onto your toes to press closer? It sends a shiver down his spine.

He bends down instinctively, one arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him while the kiss grows deeper.

You sigh into the kiss, soft, warm, completely surrendering, and it sends a jolt through Evan’s entire body. He feels it.

Every part of you melting against him, the arch of your back pressing into his chest, the way your fingers tighten in his hair like you never want to let go.

And he kisses you like he’s starved for this. Like every second they wasted not being together was torture.

You pull away giggling, bright smile on your face that makes you dimples pop and eyes crinkle. The sight of your smile, bright, dimpled, eyes crinkled with pure joy, hits Evan like sunlight breaking through clouds.

He’s breathless. Not from the kiss. From this.

You, happy because of him.

And that giggle? Light and airy, one he’s heard a thousand times but it still makes his stomach flip.

He stares at you for a solid three seconds, just drinking it in. Your glowing face. The way your nose scrunches when you laugh. Evan’s grin is wide, genuine, dorky, the kind only you ever see.

Evan, the guy who’s always cool and composed in front of everyone else. But right now?He looks like a lovestruck idiot.

"You crumbled in a single day, Evan. A single day of me not talking to you and you came crawling to me," you say smugly, and his cheeks go pink.

He groans, embarrassed now as he buries his head in your shoulders, “Couldn’t help it…” he admits, “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” he sighs, and you break out in a cheeky grin, pecking his lips before shaking your head, “Never in a million years, sweetheart,”

He smiles nonetheless, leaning in and kissing your nose.

"You're like so obsessed with me dude,"

Evan doesn’t even deny it. Instead, he laughs, bright and unashamed, and nods like it’s the most obvious truth in the world. "Yeah. I am.”

“Gonna stay obsessed ForEVER”

[heejamas]

HOW I MET SUNGHOON

→ pairing: downbad!sunghoon x fem!reader // ִromcom· friends to lovers · slow burn · smut ࣪· crack → synopsis: sunghoon was always the kind of guy who fell too hard, too fast, the type who thought a shared playlist meant commitment and that liking the same sandwich was fate. spoiler: it never worked out. well, that’s until you showed up. he didn’t mean to fall for you. you were just his friend. the funny, smart, annoyingly pretty friend. it wasn’t supposed to turn into heart flutters and late-night guitar practice. but somewhere between friendly teasing, shared drinks, and the world’s longest friendzone, sunghoon realized he might actually be in love. oops! → word count: 28k // warnings: mdni!! contains explicit content, praising kink, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, slight overstimulation, switch dynamics, dirty talk / explicit language, face riding

sunghoon was always that type of hopeless romantic guy. not in a write a poem under the rain kind of way, but he used to believe in signs: like if a girl knew all the words to a blink-182 song, she was definitely his soulmate. one time in college, he thought a cashier was in love with him because she gave him an extra ketchup packet. another time, he made a mixtape for a girl he barely knew just because she said she liked the strokes. he even labeled it “volume 1,” fully expecting a relationship to follow. it didn’t.

he was that guy who said “i miss you” before it made sense and thought hand-holding in public was sacred. the guy who overanalyzed text punctuation. the guy who once bought matching mugs after a fourth date because she laughed at his seinfeld reference. spoiler alert: she ghosted him the next day, and he kept the mugs anyway. because love, right? yeah, that’s it. that was sunghoon.

well, until he met you.

but, before he met you, sunghoon was stuck in that loop of almosts and maybes and "it’s not you, it’s me" texts sent at 2 a.m. he had a tendency to turn background characters into main characters in his head. if someone asked for directions on the subway, he’d spend the next hour wondering if he should’ve asked for her number. maybe she liked coffee shops. maybe they could’ve gone to the one on 8th street. maybe they would’ve fallen in love over cappuccinos and sarcasm. maybe he ruined it.

he was, in short, delusional in the most innocent way. and weirdly proud of it, like it was his thing. like being a hopeless romantic was just part of the package, along with his obsession with vintage sneakers, his habit of alphabetizing his dvds, pokémon go and his belief that fate always showed up fashionably late.

he had no idea that the reason would be you.

sunghoon and jay had been living together for a little over a year now. the apartment wasn’t big, and it definitely wasn’t quiet (mostly because it sat right above a bar that played the same six songs on loop every night) but it had decent water pressure, a couch that technically belonged to jungwon, and a fridge that made an odd noise every time someone closed the bathroom door. but they made it work. jay was the cleaner one, sunghoon was the one who always left his hoodie on the kitchen chair, and somehow they found a balance.

they didn’t talk about feelings much, not directly. but every now and then, usually when one of them was eating something straight from the bag or halfway through a bad tv rerun, the topic would come up. on this particular night, sunghoon was lying on the couch with his legs stretched out and one hand buried in an open bag of cereal. he hadn’t even bothered with milk. the tv was on, volume too low to follow, but he wasn’t really paying attention anyway.

“i think i’m gonna die alone,” he said, like he was talking about the weather.

jay, sitting on the floor next to the coffee table with his laptop open, didn’t look up. “what happened now?”

“nothing happened. that’s the problem. i haven’t been on a date in, like, four months. maybe five.”

jay looked at him, unimpressed. “you say that like it’s a medical emergency.”

“it kind of is,” sunghoon said, sitting up just enough to gesture with the cereal bag. 

jay snorted. “what happened to that girl from the climbing gym? the one who asked for your number after you slipped off the wall?”

sunghoon stared at the ceiling. “we went out once. she spent the entire time telling me about her ex who lives in canada and how he doesn’t believe in monogamy but they’re spiritually married anyway.”

jay blinked. “okay. next. what about the girl from the bookstore?” jay added, trying again.

“oh, right,” sunghoon said, already regretting the memory. “we had a good first date. coffee, conversation, the whole thing. second date, she brought her roommate. didn’t warn me or anything.”

“why?”

“she said she wanted a second opinion on me.”

jay closed his laptop. “man.”

“i know.” there was a short pause. sunghoon leaned his head back against the couch and let out a slow breath through his nose. he wasn’t trying to be dramatic, he was just tired of the effort it took to get halfway close to something that never turned out to be anything at all. “maybe i peaked romantically at seventeen,” he muttered.

“no one peaks at seventeen,” jay said.

“you did.”

“that’s different,” jay shrugged. “i’m hot.”

jay had been in a relationship for years, since he was 17. like proper long-term, holiday-travel-planning, toothbrush-in-the-bathroom relationship. it was steady, and sunghoon respected that, even if sometimes it made his own track record feel like a string of blurry first dates and weird storytimes.

sunghoon shifted on the couch, grabbing another handful of cereal from the open bag on his lap. “you know what’s sad? the only consistent interaction i’ve had with a woman lately is with some random pokémon go user who keeps stealing the gym at the end of our street.”

jay glanced over, already amused. “what?”

“i’ve been holding it down for team valor since, like, last year. and every night—every single night—this person comes and knocks me out. same user. snoopygirl_98. blue team, obviously. i think she hates me.”

jay raised an eyebrow. “maybe she’s flirting.”

“by humiliating me in front of a 7-eleven?”

“some people flirt differently.”

sunghoon let out a tired sigh, leaning back against the couch. “i just want to feel something again.”

jay reached for the remote. “you wanna go downstairs later? to the bar? maybe someone down there has a thing for emotionally exhausted guys.”

“you think it’s my moment?”

“statistically, you’re due.”

sunghoon didn’t answer right away. he didn’t believe in statistics, he believed in luck. and that night, for the first time in a while, he was about to have some. because you were downstairs. 

sunghoon went to the bar with jay mostly out of stubbornness. he said he didn’t feel like going, said it was a weeknight, said the chances of anything interesting happening were basically zero, but still changed out of his old hoodie and put on one that didn’t smell like takeout. the bar was familiar, and warm in the way places start to feel when you’ve been going for long enough that the guy behind the counter knows your usual.

they found jake by the pool table, already halfway through his drink. he turned before they even said anything and grinned like he’d been expecting them. sunghoon gave jay a look and followed them toward one of the tables near the back, where a few other familiar faces from college were already sitting, people they didn’t see that often anymore but still shared enough history with to make small talk easy.

and that’s when he saw you.

you were sitting to the left of jake, stirring your drink with a straw and laughing at something someone had just said. it wasn’t loud or dramatic or exaggerated, but it caught his attention anyway. there was something about how comfortable you looked at the table, how you weren’t trying too hard to be part of the conversation and still somehow felt like the center of it.

he stopped walking for half a second before jay gave him a light push on the shoulder to keep moving. jake started introducing people in his usual scattered way, pointing quickly and not really giving anyone time to react. “this is y/n—she’s a friend from my econ class back in the day—and this is sunghoon, he used to live with me first year. you two haven’t met, right?”

sunghoon nodded once and said a quick “hey,” followed by a smile that he hoped looked normal. you replied with a polite “hey” back, and that was it. a few seconds, not much, but enough for him to realize he was already too aware of how close you were sitting to jake, how often you looked at him when you laughed, how your hand moved when you adjusted your glass.

he sat across the table next to jay, didn’t say much for a while. mostly listened, nodded, laughed when it made sense. but every few minutes his eyes would flick back to you, casually, like he wasn’t really paying attention, even though he absolutely was. there was something about you that made him feel quieter than usual. not nervous, but just unsure of what to do with himself.

about fifteen minutes later, heeseung showed up. he walked in already smiling, already halfway into the group and he greeted you with a hug (longer than a casual one) and slid into the seat next to you without asking. you two started talking right away, and it didn’t look like small talk. sunghoon watched for a few seconds longer than he meant to, then looked away and focused on his drink. he didn’t know your story, maybe you and heeseung were just close, maybe it was something else. he wasn’t going to ask, of course. but he was already wondering if he’d missed his window.

the next few days after that night were... something else. jay didn’t let it go. at least twice a day, he’d throw a casual question over from the other room or while making coffee, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “so, you liked her, didn’t you?” 

and sunghoon would roll his eyes and try to sound way too cool for someone who’d clearly been thinking about you more than he wanted to admit. “what, no. she seemed nice. and i mean, she’s cute. i have eyes, i am aware.” 

but jay wasn’t buying it. he pushed harder, always the annoying friend who actually cares. “okay, but did you ask jake for her number yet?” sunghoon tried to laugh it off, but the answer was always no. 

“i didn’t. she’s way too pretty for me to just go asking like it’s no big deal. and besides, from what i saw, she’s definitely not single. heeseung was all over her, talking like they had some history or something.” 

sunghoon tried to convince jay (and himself) that he wasn’t jealous, just realistic. he reminded himself he wasn’t some guy who just jumped into things blindly, especially not when the other guy was heeseung, who’d been friends with them both for years. so instead of asking for her number, he did what he does best: replayed the whole night in his head. every laugh you gave, every way you leaned in when heeseung was talking, the little things he couldn’t quite figure out. 

he thought about how quiet he’d been, how stupid he probably looked trying to play it cool when all he wanted was to ask you questions about everything. but most of all, he wondered if there’d ever be a moment where he could just be the guy sitting next to you, not some awkward stranger watching from across the table.

sunghoon was in one of those moods where it felt like nothing ever went his way. you know, the kind of streak where every little thing seemed to slip through his fingers. dates that fizzled out before they even got started, conversations that ended awkwardly, moments that should’ve felt right but somehow didn’t. by the time he met you, he was almost done with all the usual nonsense. he wasn’t expecting fireworks or some perfect romcom scene. he was just trying not to mess things up this time. so when you showed up, he kept his guard up, quiet, careful not to get too invested too fast. he told himself he was being smart, protecting himself from another round of whatever it was that had been happening before.

so on the next week, sunghoon found himself at jake’s place again for another gathering, the kind that felt like a regular thing now even though he was still figuring out what he actually wanted from all this. when he walked in, the first thing that caught his eye was you, sitting in the corner with a group of friends. he tried to act casual as he made his way over, but inside, every step felt like a careful calculation. 

his mind raced through possible ways to start the conversation without sounding awkward or, worse, desperate. “don’t mess this up,” he told himself quietly, repeating it like a mantra as he got closer. when he finally reached you, he caught a glimpse of your t-shirt, a band he knew well, mcfly. it was kind of a guilty pleasure for him. back in high school, he’d picked up their songs mostly because a lot of girls liked them, and it had been his secret move to catch their attention. but somewhere along the way, he realized he actually liked the music, even if he’d never admit it out loud. it was one of those small things, but for sunghoon, it was like a secret handshake, a sign that maybe you two weren’t completely from different planets.

he cleared his throat and said, “hey, nice shirt. didn’t expect to see someone else wearing mcfly around here.”

you glanced up, a bit surprised, then smiled. “yeah, i guess it’s not super common these days.”

sunghoon nodded, trying to sound casual but feeling a bit weird admitting it. “i mean, i used to listen to them all the time back in high school. don’t tell anyone, but tom’s songwriting always stuck with me.”

you raised your eyebrows, clearly surprised. “wait, really? you actually like mcfly?”

he laughed quietly, running a hand through his hair. “yeah, i picked up their songs ‘cause a lot of girls were into them, but then i kind of got hooked. it’s like... guilty pleasure, but also genuine.”

you smirked, “guilty pleasure is the best kind, honestly.”

sunghoon felt a little relieved she wasn’t making fun of him. “exactly.”

you both laughed softly, and for a moment, sunghoon forgot to overthink everything. it was just two people, talking about a band, and somehow that felt a lot easier than he expected. sunghoon found himself just wanting to listen to you talk. the way you casually shared stories about concerts and favorite songs felt different from the usual small talk he was used to. it wasn’t like he was trying to impress you or be someone he wasn’t, it was just two people connecting over something simple.

he tried to keep the conversation going, so he asked, “so, do you come to these hangouts often, or is this just a one-time thing?”

you smiled again, “pretty often. it’s nice to see familiar faces and meet new ones.”

sunghoon nodded, feeling a warmth in his chest that wasn’t just from the beer he’d had earlier. inside, he was thinking, yeah, it’s nice to meet you too. but he kept that to himself. for now, he was happy just being there, talking, and maybe, just maybe, hoping there would be more moments like this.

the conversation flowed better than he expected. you talked about concerts you’d been to, favorite songs, weird stories about how you got into the band. sunghoon was surprised at how easy it was to laugh and just be yourself around you. but then, as the night went on, he realized the familiar sinking feeling, the one that hit every time before: the friendzone. you were funny, smart, and clearly someone he wanted to be more than friends with, but the way you joked and leaned into the group, it was clear you saw him like the guy who always had a good playlist, not the one who was secretly hoping for more.

and after that night, things started to slip into something that sunghoon didn’t quite expect. you two began to follow each other on social media. just the usual likes and comments that somehow made his day a little better whenever his phone buzzed. at first, he told himself it was just casual. friends catching up, sharing bits of their lives.

but slowly, he realized it wasn’t so casual anymore. he found himself scrolling through your photos longer than he meant to, replaying your messages in his head, wondering what your smile looked like when you weren’t looking. jay noticed too, because sunghoon was not subtle about it at all. every few days, he’d throw the question at sunghoon like it was some kind of game. “so, are you into her?”

and every time, sunghoon would laugh it off. “nah, man, just friends. nothing like that.”

but inside, he was tangled up in a mess of what ifs and maybe-nots. he told himself he was fine just being friends, that getting too close wasn’t worth the risk. he was tired of things going sideways, of hoping for something that never quite stuck. but the more he tried to convince himself, the harder it became to ignore the way his chest tightened when you popped up on his screen or the way his mind wandered to what it’d be like if things actually went right.

he wasn’t ready to say it out loud, not yet. but the truth was, he was falling, probably faster than he wanted to admit. and every time jay asked, he’d just smile and shake his head, pretending he didn’t feel a thing. pretending was easier, at least for now.

it was a saturday afternoon, and sunghoon had been outside for a solid twenty minutes trying (once again) to reclaim the gym down the street. it had become a bit of an obsession at that point. snoopygirl_98 had taken it over again, and this time, she’d stacked it with an annoyingly strong blissey that just wouldn’t budge. he was pacing in front of the bakery on the corner, furiously tapping his screen, muttering under his breath like it was personal. because, honestly, it kinda was. whoever snoopygirl_98 was, she had been tormenting his team valor pride for weeks, and he was convinced she was doing it on purpose now.

right as he was about to give up and switch to a different gym, a notification popped up on his screen, not from the game, but a message. from you.

[y/n:] hey hoon!! are you busy?

his thumb hovered over the screen for a second, stomach doing that little flip it always did when your name showed up. he stared at it, then at the game, then back at the message. screw the gym.

[sunghoon:] Not really, what’s up?

the reply came fast, like you’d already had it typed and ready to send.

[y/n:] i’m at the mart near your place and i got way too many bags… like an embarrassing amount… and i couldn’t think of anyone else to ask. would you be a hero and help me carry these to my building? 🥺

sunghoon blinked at the screen. and then again. and then stood there, in the middle of the sidewalk, processing what just happened. you couldn’t think of anyone else to ask. now, logically, he knew that meant nothing. you were friends, this was a friend thing. helping someone carry groceries was classic friend behavior. textbook friendzone. but still, his chest did a weird fluttery thing, and he could already hear jay’s voice in his head saying something smug like, “not into her, huh?”

he texted back: 

[sunghoon:] On my way! Don’t move. Be there in five

he slipped his phone into his jacket pocket and took off in the direction of the store, telling himself it wasn’t a big deal. it’s just a nice thing to do. good karma. neighbors helping neighbors, nothing more. but deep down, as he walked a little too fast and adjusted his hair in the reflection of a parked car, sunghoon knew exactly what he was doing. and he knew exactly why he was doing it.

because, yeah, maybe he was in the friendzone. but he was in the friendzone with you. and that still felt a lot better than being anywhere else.

when he got to the store, there you were, standing on the curb with three overstuffed tote bags and two plastic ones hanging from your wrists, trying to balance them without toppling over. you looked up, caught sight of him, and smiled like it was the most natural thing in the world to call sunghoon out of the blue and make him carry your groceries like some kind of personal delivery boy. and the worst part is that he didn’t even mind.

“you weren’t kidding,” he said, eyeing the bags as he took most of them from you without hesitation.

“i was being modest,” you replied, a little out of breath. “there were two more bags but the guy at the checkout told me to stop.”

“glad someone had the courage to say it,” he joked, and you nudged him with your elbow as the two of you started walking.

at first, it was all easy conversation, nothing new there. you talked about how the store rearranged the snack aisle again, how you couldn’t find your favorite granola, and how the cashier gave you a coupon for cat food even though you didn’t have a cat. he listened, laughed in all the right places, and added his own running commentary. it was the kind of rhythm you two had settled into without ever really trying.

but somewhere between the store and your apartment building, as he adjusted the bags in his arms and looked at you rambling about frozen waffles, something quietly clicked in his chest. he didn’t know when it had started, maybe back at the bar, maybe during some other moment he didn’t register properly, but it was there now, and it was loud.

he liked you.

like, actually liked you. not the fake-crush-you-get-on-a-friend thing. not the maybe i’m just lonely thing. a real, actual crush that made his hands sweat and his thoughts spiral and his pulse skip a little every time you looked at him too long. and he had been telling himself it wasn’t that, because it was easier and because it was safer. but yeah, it was that.

you held the door to your building open with your hip and motioned for him to follow you. “don’t judge the mess,” you said casually.

sunghoon didn’t say anything, just smiled, still mildly stunned by the realization swirling in his head. when you opened the door to your apartment and he stepped inside, it was like stepping into a personality, your personality. there were string lights that didn’t match but somehow made sense together. mugs with little quotes on them. a record player in the corner next to a stack of vinyls that included both taylor swift and metallica. polaroids on the fridge. a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table. a plant that was definitely dying but still hanging in there. it was so you, in every way.

and sunghoon stood there holding your bags, pretending he wasn’t staring.

“you can drop them by the kitchen,” you said, already pulling off your coat and tossing it on the couch.

he did, and then paused, glancing around again. “your place is…” he trailed off, not sure how to say weirdly perfect without sounding creepy.

you looked over your shoulder. “chaotic?”

“adorable,” he said, before he could stop himself.

you raised an eyebrow, amused. “really?”

“uh. i mean, yeah. in a—like—it’s very you.”

he wanted to slap himself. but you just smiled again and started unpacking your bags like it wasn’t a big deal.

and over the next few weeks, things kind of continued. sunghoon found himself falling into this strange rhythm with you. not in a we’re clearly falling for each other kind of way, but in a i’m clearly in love and you keep sending me memes at 2am like that means nothing kind of way. and he didn’t even know how it happened. it was like one minute he was helping you carry groceries and the next he was learning your coffee order, your go-to karaoke song, and the name of the stuffed penguin you’d had since you were six. so the friendzone? yeah, it was thriving. stable. deeply rooted in reality.

“she called me dude today,” sunghoon said one night, flopping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

jay didn’t look up from his phone. “right. and?”

“no, but, like. she said it in the friendly way. like a bro way. like a ‘dude, you have to see this video of a cat falling off a table’ kind of way.”

jay glanced over. “so… you’re mad she’s comfortable with you?” sunghoon tossed a pillow at him but couldn’t deny the accuracy.

he was at that stage where he’d memorized your laugh patterns, saved photos from your story by accident, and started recognizing songs from your spotify playlists. he’d accidentally started saying some of your catchphrases. he was, in short, doomed.

you, meanwhile, were obliviously warm and kind and effortlessly funny, the kind of funny that didn’t try too hard, which made it worse. you’d text him stuff like “is this a normal dinner?” with a photo of cereal and pickles, and sunghoon would still stare at his phone for ten minutes smiling like a loser. he hated it. no, he loved it. no, actually, he hated that he loved it.

once, you called him at midnight just to ask if frogs had teeth (they do, sort of), and he answered like that was a perfectly normal thing for a person to do. it was around then that jay gave up even pretending to be surprised.

“just tell her you like her,” he said, halfway through a bowl of cereal.

sunghoon groaned. “i’d rather eat glass.”

“then stop looking at your phone like it’s a shrine.”

“i’m not.”

“you’re literally on her instagram zooming in on her bookshelf.”

“she has good taste in books, jay.”

“sure. tell the bookshelf how you feel.”

sunghoon ignored him, of course. he was committed to the bit now. committed to being your very helpful, very available, very emotionally tortured friend. it was pathetic, but it was also the best he’d felt in months.

jungwon’s birthday was on a saturday, and somehow the group decided that the best way to celebrate turning twenty-something was to put on rented shoes and throw heavy balls down a lane under disco lights. sunghoon hadn’t been to a bowling alley in years, but he wasn’t about to admit that. especially not when you showed up in jeans, a ponytail, and a hyper-specific competitiveness in your eyes that made him slightly nervous.

“you any good?” you asked, grabbing a bowling ball way too confidently.

sunghoon shrugged like it was nothing. “decent.”

“hm. cocky.”

“you scared?”

you raised an eyebrow. “you wish.”

and that was it: challenge accepted. sunghoon spent the next hour entirely too focused on beating you, despite the fact that it was literally jungwon’s birthday and he had no reason to be acting like it was the bowling olympics. but there was something about the way you teased him every time he got a spare, or the smug way you celebrated your strikes like you’d just ended world hunger, that gave him this ridiculous flutter in his chest he didn’t know what to do with.

you stuck your tongue out at him after your third strike in a row. “might wanna switch to the kiddie lane.”

“i’m just letting you win,” he said, deadpan.

“oh? how generous.”

he rolled his eyes, grinning despite himself. he hated how easy it was to like you. he hated how every little joke made him want to high-five his past self for deciding to help carry your groceries that one time. he also hated how that warm, stupid feeling in his chest immediately froze when he saw heeseung walk in.

you spotted heeseung almost instantly and lit up in that way people only do when they see someone they’re extremely fond of. you waved, borderline giddy, and rushed over to hug him like you hadn’t seen him in years, even though sunghoon was pretty sure you’d just posted a story with him the weekend before.

sunghoon watched from the far side of the seating area, trying to act normal. casual. unbothered. he adjusted his grip on his bowling ball even though he wasn’t playing that round and stared at the score screen like it had personally offended him. right. heeseung. the heeseung. the possible thing that he kept forgetting might exist. because you didn’t really talk about it. maybe there was nothing, since you have never mentioned it. and that only made it worse, because it left sunghoon’s brain wide open for theories and assumptions and a quiet, unspoken jealousy that he refused to acknowledge out loud.

jay leaned over. “you good?”

“yup.”

“you look like you’re about to throw that ball at someone’s head.”

sunghoon glanced down at the ball in his hands. “just focused.”

“focused on…?”

“winning.”

“you’re literally not up next.”

sunghoon ignored him. instead, he sat back down, pretended he wasn’t looking over at you and heeseung talking like you were in your own little world, and reminded himself that he was your friend. your helpful, emotionally-stable, always-up-for-carrying-heavy-things friend. he could handle that. probably.

and the bowling alley closed at midnight, but the group was still buzzing with leftover adrenaline and just enough alcohol to make walking in a straight line optional. naturally, that meant the next stop was the bar downstairs from sunghoon and jay’s apartment, their usual post-everything spot. jay had jungwon slung over his back in a chaotic piggyback ride situation, spinning him in slow, clumsy circles as jungwon yelled, “this is the best birthday ever!” with his arms out like a drunk airplane.

sunghoon stood at the bar, balancing on the balls of his feet, waiting for the bartender to finish pouring their next round. his hoodie sleeves were rolled up, and he was doing mental math trying to figure out if they’d ordered six or seven beers when someone stepped up beside him.

“hey,” heeseung said, casual, nodding toward the cluster of friends behind them. “you having fun?”

sunghoon smiled politely. “yeah, i am. it’s alright.”

“i’m glad you and y/n got close,” heeseung said, tone sincere. “she’s mentioned it a few times. says you’re easy to talk to.” sunghoon blinked and heeseung chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “i mean it. she doesn’t say stuff like that about just anyone. i think she really appreciates your friendship.”

sunghoon nodded slowly, a small smile forming on his lips. part of him warmed at the idea that you talked about him at all, that maybe he wasn’t just another background character in your life. maybe you actually noticed him, his jokes, his presence, his friendship. but then again, that was the word. friendship. and hearing that from heeseung — heeseung, who might very well be the guy you curled up with at the end of the night inside sunghoon’s head — made it land like a compliment wrapped in a punch. 

so sunghoon gave a small nod, grabbed the tray, and turned back toward the table with a practiced smile, careful not to drop anything or show too much on his face.

the night had mellowed into that sleepy, blurry stage where everyone was too tired to keep the party going, but not quite ready to say goodbye. the staircase outside sunghoon and jay’s condo was full of muffled laughter and shuffling feet. jay was half-carrying, half-dragging jungwon toward the entrance, mumbling something about him always passing out like a toddler on holidays. 

sunghoon trailed a few steps behind them, eyes on the floor, brain already shifting into autopilot. he was thinking about how he’d need to find an extra blanket for jungwon, and how the couch springs were going to wreck his back by morning, and how weird it was that every night with you ended the same: him pretending he didn’t want to stay longer.

“sunghoon?”

your voice cut through the entrance. he turned around to find you a few steps down on the staircase, looking up at him. your makeup was a little smudged from the night, and your hair was a bit messy from the wind, but you looked so relaxed. like you’d had a good time, like you didn’t want it to end just yet.

“hey,” he said, walking back toward you.

you smiled, warm and sleepy. “i had so much fun tonight. like, actual fun. not just polite fun.”

he chuckled. “me too.”

“we still haven’t settled the bowling score though,” you added, a teasing glint in your eyes. “we’re technically tied, and i don’t like leaving things unresolved.”

sunghoon blinked. “so you’re challenging me to a rematch?”

“obviously,” you grinned. “i want a proper win next time.”

he nodded, a little slower than he meant to. “yeah. okay. i’m in.”

and you just smiled at him like that answer had been a given. like you knew he’d say yes, like this was easy. normal, friendly. but as he turned back toward the apartment, your words kept echoing in his head. “i had so much fun tonight.”, “i want a proper win next time.”

it wasn’t just what you said, it was how you said it, the way you looked at him, like the night wasn’t fully over until you said goodnight to him specifically. it sent his thoughts spiraling in that annoyingly hopeful way he tried so hard to avoid. maybe he wasn’t imagining things. maybe it wasn’t just him, falling into another crush he couldn’t manage. maybe there was something… there.

and yet, as he followed jay inside, stepped over jungwon’s half-unconscious body sprawled on the rug, and shut the door behind him, he still couldn’t tell if he was being seen the way he wanted to be seen. he was getting whiplash from hoping too much and pretending not to. and somewhere between getting a glass of water and setting up a pillow for jungwon, he realized he was completely, hopelessly, predictably into you. as if that wasn’t obvious already.

over the next few weeks, sunghoon slowly started to realize just how tangled up he was in his feelings for you. he found himself checking his phone a little more often, hoping for a message, and when you did invite him out, he tried to play it cool even though his stomach was doing flips.

most of the times you hung out, it was at gatherings with friends, the kind of casual, loud hangouts where it was hard to have a serious conversation. you would appear in the middle of a group, laughing and teasing someone, and sunghoon would catch himself watching you more than the game or the conversation. he kept guessing, quietly, that maybe there was something going on between you and heeseung, especially since you seemed close, comfortable around each other in a way that made sunghoon’s stomach tighten a little. but he never brought it up. not to you, not to jake, not even to himself out loud. it was easier to assume something was there than to face the uncertainty.

then, one evening, jake mentioned an ex of yours during a conversation, like a name dropped in passing. heeseung’s reaction caught sunghoon off guard. “that guy was such a jerk,” heeseung said, his voice low and almost protective. “you deserve so much better. you deserve someone who actually is, at least, not a jerk.”

that moment clicked something in sunghoon’s head. if heeseung was talking like that, maybe there wasn’t anything going on between you two after all. and that thought was both a relief and a reason to panic. because it meant the way was clear, but it also meant time was running out. you were amazing, and he was pretty sure there were plenty of other guys out there, sliding into your dms, trying to get your attention.

he started to feel a weird mix of excitement and anxiety, like a kid realizing he was finally allowed to play the game but also realizing how fast the clock was ticking. he wasn’t sure what to do with all those feelings, so most of the time, he just tried to keep calm on the outside while his mind raced ahead, imagining how to not mess it up.

one evening, sitting on the couch with jay scrolling through his phone, sunghoon finally decided to open up. he talked about how seeing you made him feel like he was stuck in this weird in-between, wanting more but not knowing how to get there without messing everything up. jay looked up, gave him that familiar sideways grin, and said something simple but solid: “bro, you just gotta be patient. wait for the right moment. don’t go jumping in all dramatic like you usually do.”

sunghoon rolled his eyes but knew jay was right. “yeah, i get it. no mugs with her face on it, no mixtapes, no playlist called ‘songs that remind me of you.’”

“exactly,” jay said, deadpan. “try being normal for once.”

sunghoon leaned back and closed his eyes, but his brain immediately went into overdrive. his mind was something like: okay, no mugs, got it. but what about a poem? no, that’s way too much. maybe a funny meme? too lame. what about baking cookies? wait, does she even like sweets? maybe she’s gluten-free. no clue. okay, no mixtapes, but what if i make a playlist? subtle though, not like ‘this is for you.’ maybe call it ‘songs i listen to when i’m feeling chill’? no, too vague. or maybe a mug but just plain, with a small quote? nah, still weird. what if i write her a note? no, i’m not a middle schooler. or just ask her out straight up? no, no, no. gotta wait for the moment. but when?

he sighed and looked over at jay, who was now smirking. “guess being normal is harder than it sounds.”

and a few weeks later, there was this party, and it was loud, crowded, and exactly the kind of chaos sunghoon didn’t really like. but there you were, halfway through your third drink, giggling at something nobody else had said, and instantly becoming the center of attention. you were funny, charming, and a little bit tipsy, the perfect combination for making everyone laugh without even trying. sunghoon, of course, was watching you with that panicked, how do i handle this look that only his closest friends knew too well.

somehow, the whole group decided that keeping an eye on you was his responsibility. no one said it out loud, but it was like an unspoken rule. maybe it was because he looked like the most responsible one, or maybe because you kept drifting toward him like a magnet, waving your arms dramatically while telling stories with way too much enthusiasm.

“sunghoon, you’re not going to believe what happened to me today,” you slurred slightly, swaying on your feet but managing to stay upright. “this guy at the coffee shop said i looked like a celebrity.” you wiggled your eyebrows and smiled at him, waiting for his reaction.

sunghoon blinked, trying to hide the part of his brain that was screaming she’s drunk and adorable and how do i even respond to this? “uh, that’s… great,” he said carefully, hoping it sounded casual. “you told him you’re famous now?”

you laughed, a little too loudly. “no, i said i’m just famous in my own head. get it?”

“yeah,” he smiled softly, already feeling like he’d lost the ability to say anything clever. “definitely famous.”

you reached out and grabbed his arm, leaning closer. “you’re no fun tonight, sunghoon. loosen up.” your eyes were sparkling mischievously, and sunghoon’s heart did a stupid little flip that he did not want anyone else to notice.

inside, he was running through every possible reaction: play it cool, be chill, don’t stare like a lovesick puppy. smile, laugh when she laughs, don’t mention the fact that her breath smells like cheap vodka. okay, offer her water? no, she’ll think i’m momming her. maybe just get another drink for myself to stay steady? nah, that’s just an excuse to drink too.

while he was debating this internal chaos, you suddenly burst out laughing at your own joke about the coffee shop guy, and sunghoon couldn’t help but smile, feeling himself falling deeper into whatever this was between you two. “you know,” you said, suddenly serious for a second, “i’m glad you’re here. it’s kinda nice having someone look out for me.”

sunghoon’s breath caught. “yeah, well, someone’s gotta do it.” he tried to sound casual, but there was no hiding the softness in his voice.

later, when you were wobbling a little too much to stand by yourself, sunghoon was immediately there to steady you. “i got you,” he said, wrapping an arm around your waist as you leaned on him. everyone else just watched and smiled, like this was all part of the plan.

on the way out, you stumbled a bit and he tightened his grip. “thanks for being my human crutch tonight,” you joked.

“anytime,” he replied, feeling like he should say something deeper but all he could think was please don’t fall, please don’t fall.

walking you home was quiet but comforting. you kept mumbling random things about the party and some wild idea for a band you wanted to start. sunghoon just listened, his mind half on your words and half on how lucky he felt to be the one walking by your side. and when you finally reached your apartment, you turned and gave him a sleepy smile. “thanks for tonight, hoon. you’re a good friend.”

he nodded, smiling back, but inside, the familiar mix of hope and panic swirled again. good friend was a start, but maybe he wanted to be more than that. for now, though, he was happy to just get you home safe, and try not to mess up the next time you got this adorably drunk.

you paused at the door of your apartment, a little wobbly and smiling, looking at sunghoon with eyes that were definitely feeling the weight of the night. “hey, you don’t have to walk all the way home alone, you know,” you said, leaning against the wall for balance. “why don’t you just come in for a bit? it’s late, and honestly, i’d be worried about you.”

sunghoon gave a nervous smile, trying to look confident. “nah, i’m good. i’m a big boy, i can handle it.”

he felt your gaze, half intense, half sweet, half amused, as if silently asking, really? so you laughed softly, a little tipsy but sincere. “i’m gonna stay up all night worried if you don’t come in. and my couch is super comfortable, like, really. i could sleep there, and you’ll take the bed.”

sunghoon stopped for a second, his brain trying to decode the innocent but kinda tempting offer. wait, she wants me to sleep on her bed? he thought, feeling his heart speed up just a little. okay, maybe more than a little.

“never,” he said with a playful grin, “i’m never gonna let you sleep on the couch. you sleep on the bed, and i’ll take the couch.”

you widened your eyes like “aha, so you’re saying you’ll stay?” with a mischievous smile, clearly enjoying seeing him flustered.

sunghoon tried to play it cool, but inside his head it was total chaos. okay, breathe. don’t do anything dumb. but damn, this is really nice. “yeah,” he said, “guess that’s the deal.”

you laughed, flopping back on the couch like it was your personal bed already. “good. now i won’t have to worry. and you’ll be close if i need you to save me from any weird noises or monsters.”

sunghoon chuckled. “don’t worry. i’m way scarier than any monster.”

you were already sprawled out on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, that sleepy, slightly goofy smile playing on your lips. sunghoon stood there for a moment, just watching you, feeling that weird mix of wanting to be helpful but not quite sure how. finally, he cleared his throat, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“no no no, you should go change and sleep in your bed. don’t stay on the couch,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. inside, his brain was racing — okay, act normal. don’t make this weird. but also, don’t mess it up.

you scrunched your nose, crossing your arms like a kid who just got told to eat their vegetables. “ah, but i don’t wanna get up. it’s warm here,” you complained in that playful, stubborn tone that made sunghoon smile without even realizing it.

he laughed quietly but didn’t back down. instead, he just went over to you, and before you could argue more, he scooped you up effortlessly, just enough to carry you off the couch and start the slow walk to your room. in that moment, his heart was beating way faster than it should, and he caught himself thinking, wow, this is actually kinda nice. 

when he laid you gently on your bed, he took a second to adjust the pillow behind your head, smoothing the blanket over you carefully, as if you were something fragile he wanted to protect. he stood there a moment longer, just watching your face, so peaceful now, and it hit him how much he actually cared about you, more than just friends, that was pretty obvious already, but not quite sure how to say that out loud yet.

then, leaning down slowly, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a quiet little promise that he was there and that you mattered. he pulled back a little and said, “i’m gonna close the door, okay? you change, then go to sleep. if you need anything, just call me.”

as he reached for a blanket on the chair, ready to head back to the couch, his mind was a mess of silly thoughts— is this what people mean by 'caring'? man, why does this feel so complicated? i just want her to be comfortable, but now i’m thinking about how nice it is to be close like this… okay, calm down, sunghoon.

he smiled to himself, shook his head lightly, and settled in for the night on the couch, feeling oddly happy and a little bit hopeless all at once.

the next morning sunghoon woke up with a start, his heart still racing from a half-remembered dream. your place was quiet, but there was something different. something warm and inviting that pulled him out of the couch. as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, a comforting smell drifted toward him: the rich aroma of coffee mixed with the sweet scent of pancakes. curious, he stood up, following the smell to the kitchen.

there you were, standing by the stove in a soft, oversized pajama shirt that looked impossibly cozy. the sight of you moving around the kitchen, focused yet relaxed, hit him with a sudden wave of tenderness he wasn’t ready for. his chest tightened, a gentle ache from the simple, quiet moment unfolding in front of him. you turned and caught him watching, a shy smile spreading across your face. “good morning,” you said softly, the casual warmth in your voice making everything feel right. “i thought i’d make us some breakfast. thanks for taking care of me last night.”

sunghoon’s eyes softened as he stepped closer, his heart swelling with something like pride and affection all tangled together. without thinking, you reached out and wrapped your arms around him in a hug. the scent of your shampoo, fresh and slightly sweet, filled his senses, and for a moment he just held onto you, feeling a calm happiness settle deep inside.

“you’re welcome,” he said quietly, voice low and a little breathless. “i’m just glad you’re okay.”

you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your smile gentle but full of something more, something unspoken. the world outside the kitchen seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that soft morning light.

so after that morning, sunghoon’s brain basically went on permanent loop mode. and not the cool, chill kind of loop, but the one where your brain is stuck on a hamster wheel powered by a caffeine-addicted squirrel, because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. every little thing reminded him of you: the smell of coffee, the way you smiled, that ridiculous oversized pajama shirt that somehow made you look like both a cozy bear and a secret heartbreaker at the same time.

he started doing these totally unplanned mental movie scenes of you both, like some rom-com that he had zero control over. in his head, there were slow-motion moments, awkward laughs, and a lot of him trying not to trip over his own words — spoiler alert: he always did. and the tragic part was that he knew he was acting like a total dork, but he couldn’t care less. he was deep in the hopeless crush zone, and the sad, funny part was he didn’t even mind being there.

sunghoon even caught himself practicing casual greetings in the mirror, whispering, “hey, what’s up?” but sounding more like, “heyyyy, whassssuuup,” which definitely was not the vibe he wanted to give off.

and sunghoon never really knew how to play the guitar. like, he could barely hold the thing properly without feeling like he was about to break it or accidentally snap a string. but then there was this song, “falling in love” by mcfly, that somehow stuck in his head. it wasn’t even a cool song to brag about knowing, but it had this weird charm, and more importantly, he thought, maybe, just maybe, he could play it for you one day.

so, he went to jay and asked to borrow his guitar. jay raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting sunghoon to give up in like five minutes. but sunghoon was serious, he wanted this. the first few days were pure disaster. his fingers hurt, and every chord change sounded like a dying cat. he fumbled, he muttered swear words under his breath, and jay occasionally peeked in, half-amused, half-worried.

after what felt like forever, with his fingers all raw and sore, he finally managed to play the whole song without collapsing into a coughing fit or breaking a string. victorious but exhausted, he sent you a message: Hey, i learned falling in love on the guitar!

you replied instantly: i want to see you play it someday :)))

sunghoon stared at his phone, heart racing like he’d run a marathon. then, of course, his brain went into overdrive. what if i mess up? what if my fingers slip? what if i sound terrible even after all this practice? but at the same time, there was this tiny spark of excitement that maybe this was a step closer to something more than just friends.

one day, sunghoon was finally doing something with jay that didn’t involve him thinking about you nonstop, which was a true miracle, really. they were just messing around, playing some dumb game on jay’s phone, cracking jokes, and for a moment, sunghoon’s brain was somewhere other than you. then his phone buzzed with that annoying notification again: someone was attacking the pokemon gym right across the street, the one he had claimed like two days ago after a fierce battle.

he glanced at the screen, and sure enough, it was snoopygirl_98, the same mysterious pokémon go player who had been stealing that gym from him every other day. the rivalry was basically legendary in his mind: the fierce battle of sunghoon vs snoopygirl_98. he never actually knew who she was, but he was determined to keep his turf.

without a second thought, sunghoon slipped his phone into his pocket, grabbed his slipper (the one goofy soft slipper he always wore around the house) and said, “jay, hold on. i gotta settle this.” jay just raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, knowing sunghoon’s competitive streak was about to kick into overdrive. so there he was, tiptoeing out of the apartment, half slipping on the soft slipper but trying to look cool anyway. as he crossed the street, he was already imagining the showdown. “okay, snoopygirl_98,” he whispered, “time to see who’s the real champion.”

as he turned the corner onto the street where the gym always stood, sunghoon was already preparing his battle stance, phone in one hand, thumb poised like a dramatic swordsman, ready to reclaim his gym with the same urgency people usually reserved for, like, national emergencies. he was muttering strategies under his breath, rehearsing which pokémon to use first (always charizard, never blissey — blissey was a coward’s choice) when he noticed a familiar shape a few steps ahead, someone standing by the 7-eleven sign, head tilted down, clearly battling on their phone with the kind of concentration that only came from either playing pokémon go or trying to transfer money while your banking app crashes.

he squinted, slowed down, adjusted his slipper, because something about the silhouette made his brain do that annoying thing where it starts connecting dots he didn’t ask it to connect. the hoodie was oversized. the socks were mismatched. the hair was pulled up the way he always secretly thought looked really good on you even though he never said anything because what kind of guy compliments hair logistics? and then you looked up. and it was you. and sunghoon’s brain just stopped.

you didn’t see him right away, too focused on whatever attack you were tapping out on your screen and for a second, he just stood there, frozen, phone hanging limply in his hand like he'd forgotten what apps were, trying to process the fact that snoopygirl_98 — the elusive enemy who had single-handedly ruined his gym stats for months, the digital nemesis he had cursed under his breath more times than he could count — was you. you. as in, the person who still didn’t know he practiced saying “hi” in the mirror before group hangouts, just in case you were there. the person he may or may not have secretly written a list about titled “things she’s said that made me feel weird in a good way.”

and now here you were, standing across from him, completely unaware, committing virtual violence against his snorlax like it was just another tuesday. because it was, in fact, just another tuesday.

he blinked once, then again, then checked his phone, like maybe the app had glitched, like maybe this was some alternate universe where you just happened to have the exact same username as his sworn digital rival. but there it was: snoopygirl_98. blue team. level 37. the destroyer of dreams and the reason he once rage-deleted the app at 2am and reinstalled it ten minutes later because he couldn’t sleep without knowing if the gym was still his.

and somehow, somehow, it was you.

he didn’t know what to do. he couldn’t just walk up and say “hey, remember that gym you’ve been taking over every night for six months? surprise! it’s me, your accidental pokémon nemesis and also the guy who may or may not be in love with you depending on how much eye contact we’ve made in the last week.” no. absolutely not. he had dignity. barely. but he had it. kind of.

instead, he took a cautious step back like a spy retreating from an unexpected recon mission, trying not to make noise as he slid his slipper against the pavement, which unfortunately made a cartoonish squeak that echoed louder than it should have in the open air. you turned, looked up, and your face lit up the exact way it always did when you saw him, like it was just a nice surprise to run into your friend, like nothing weird was happening, like you weren’t holding his gym hostage right now with a smug-looking vaporeon.

“sunghoon?” you said, smiling, completely normal, as if this wasn’t some betrayal of trust that would go down in pokémon go history forums if he ever decided to tell the story.

he opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “hey,” he finally said, voice much higher than usual, like someone had turned the pitch knob on his entire social confidence.

you tilted your head, confused for a second, then pointed at your screen. “you play too?”

and that was it. the unraveling. the full comedic collapse of sunghoon’s internal monologue. because play too? girl. play too? you’ve been personally destroying his soul one blissey at a time and now you were standing there acting like you were new to the whole thing, like you weren’t the blue team villain of his red team nightmares. he wanted to laugh. or cry. or possibly propose. he wasn’t sure anymore.

he forced a smile. “yeah… i dabble.”

you laughed, completely unaware of the hurricane inside his skull. “i’ve been stealing this gym for weeks. i don’t know who keeps taking it back, but it’s kind of my nightly routine now.”

he nodded slowly, like someone who’s just realized they’ve been in a romcom subplot this entire time and everyone forgot to tell them. “yeah. weird. wonder who that could be.”

you grinned. “whoever it is, they’re relentless.”

he blinked. smiled. swallowed the dramatic gasp he wanted to let out. “yeah,” he said again, staring at your phone like it had personally insulted his family. “totally relentless.”

and in that moment, as you turned your attention back to your screen and started strategizing your next move with a seriousness that honestly impressed him, sunghoon realized something that both horrified and thrilled him in equal measure: he didn’t want to win the gym anymore. not tonight. maybe not ever. because losing to you? weirdly… kind of felt like winning.

so the weeks that followed the great snoopygirl_98 2025 revelation were, to sunghoon’s brain, a chaotic montage of unprocessed emotions, late-night gym takeovers, and entirely too many internal monologues that began with “okay but what does it mean” and ended with him staring at the ceiling like always. because now that he knew you were, well, you, he couldn’t un-know it. everything felt different, except literally nothing had changed. you still sent him memes at weird hours. you still texted him “tell me something random” out of nowhere and then rated his answers out of ten. you still walked into rooms like you were casually auditioning for the lead in the sitcom of his life.

and sunghoon, for his part, was trying to be normal. keyword: trying. which mostly meant overthinking every single interaction while nodding like an emotionally competent adult. a simple “hey, what are you doing tonight?” from you became an existential riddle he could only solve through three hours of pacing and a playlist of acoustic sad songs.

he had started categorizing your texts into very serious folders in his brain, like:

folder a: possibly flirty but could be friendly if you squint.

folder b: definitely friendly but still makes his stomach feel weird.

folder c: completely neutral but somehow he read it five times anyway.

folder d: emergency. called him “dude.” instant damage. snorlax lost 400 HP.

and then, as if fate hadn’t already made things complicated enough, you started talking about how i met your mother. at first it was casual. you mentioned you’d been rewatching some episodes and sunghoon, of course, latched on immediately like a drowning man clinging to a life raft labeled shared interests. he texted back something way too enthusiastic, like “WAIT I LOVE THAT SHOW,” and then instantly regretted the all caps but it was too late.

from there, it spiraled in the best possible way. suddenly you were sending each other voice notes about barney’s worst outfits (trick question: barney is always wearing a suit), arguing over whether ted was just misunderstood or annoying (sunghoon was team both), and quoting lines back and forth. and it became a routine, you’d agree on which episodes to watch, then text throughout like you were sitting on opposite ends of the same couch, reacting in real time. and sure, sometimes the timing was off and someone got spoiled by an accidental “OMG LILY JUST SAID THAT” two minutes before the scene actually happened, but it didn’t matter. it was fun. it felt like something, like a shared little world.

and then when you were talking about season two, something about how marshall and lily’s relationship made you feel weirdly emotional in a way you hadn’t expected, and sunghoon had just typed out a Very Deep Message about love and growing up when you interrupted with:

[y/n:] why don’t you just come over and we watch together?

[y/n:] we could watch and order something like real, greasy, perfect food

sunghoon stared at the message like it was a prophecy. he reread it, twice. then a third time, just in case it turned into “actually nvm lol” when he blinked. it didn’t. it stayed there, glowing softly on his screen. and his brain, poor sunghoon’s brain, absolutely exploded.

one part of him went: she invited you over. this is it. this is the crossover episode. but what if it’s just, like, a chill friend hangout? what if she makes you watch the pineapple episode and asks if you relate to ted. and then the final part, the dramatic romantic core of his soul, just whispered: go. wear your good hoodie. the one that doesn’t smell like doritos.

he took a deep breath, typed back something that he hoped sounded effortlessly cool — probably something tragically boring like “Yeah, sounds fun :)” — and then threw his phone across the room like it had personally attacked him with joy.

because yeah, it was happening. he was going to your apartment, again, not for drinking reasons and sleeping at your couch this time, no. you were going to watch how i met your mother together. with food, and possibly blankets. and if the universe was in any way fair, maybe you’d laugh at something he said and nudge his arm and he would not panic.

sunghoon arrived five minutes early, which, for him, was an act of immense restraint considering he’d spent the last twenty debating which snacks made him look more chill. he had one hand clutching a crinkly plastic bag full of sodium and intention, and the other mentally prepared to knock even though you’d already told him, twice, to just come in when he got there. still, he hovered in front of your door for a second, wondering if the zero-calorie soda made him look like someone trying too hard not to care.

you opened the door in a big hoodie and patterned socks, looking like you hadn’t overthought a single thing today, which made him immediately regret every decision he’d made in the past hour, starting with ironing his t-shirt. you glanced at the bag in his hand, raised an eyebrow, and grinned. “you brought the entire snack aisle.”

“i wanted to make sure we don’t need to get up for at least three episodes,” he said, holding it out like a peace offering.

you peeked inside, spotted a rainbow of crunchy nonsense and two sodas, and smiled again, this one softer, and then said, with no sarcasm and no dramatic pause, “that’s actually really cute.”

sunghoon felt the sentence hit somewhere between his ribcage and his ability to behave like a normal human. “cute” wasn’t usually something he processed well. especially not when it came from you, in that tone. he gave a little laugh that wasn’t really a laugh and followed you into the apartment. the living room looked lived-in in the best way. blanket on the couch, half-melted candle on the coffee table, tv already queued up. you tossed a couple of pillows to the floor, sat cross-legged on the couch, and patted the spot next to you with zero hesitation, like this was the most natural thing in the world. he sat, careful not to take up too much space, careful not to do something weird with his hands.

you started the episode, some early season of how i met your mother, and the familiar opening theme filled the room. sunghoon tried to focus on the screen but your knee had already brushed his twice, and you were sitting close enough that he could smell your shampoo, which he refused to think about too long.

you had just grabbed a blanket and casually tossed half of it across his lap like that was completely fine. you shifted your weight, leaning slightly into him, and he told himself it was normal. you were comfortable. this was comfort. comfort wasn’t dangerous. except it kind of was, because now you were sharing a blanket, and the warmth wasn’t just from the polyester.

somewhere around the middle of the episode, you rested your hand on his arm for a second while laughing, just a quick touch, and then didn’t really move it, letting it stay there as you turned to say something about how ted reminded you of a guy you dated in college “but like, if that guy was worse at metaphors.” sunghoon nodded, mostly to cover up the fact that his brain had gone suspiciously quiet, like it was holding its breath.

you shifted again, pulled your legs up, and now your knee was leaning against his in a way that didn’t feel accidental. you didn’t apologize, or move, you just stayed like that, narrating bits of the episode, making comments, stealing a few chips from the bag he’d opened on his lap like you always did, but now it felt different, closer. intentional in a way that made sunghoon’s hands go kind of weird and tingly.

he tried to focus on the episode. really, he did. he watched barney fail another pick-up attempt, watched ted give one of his long-winded love speeches, and watched lily roll her eyes in that way she always did when she knew something before the rest of the group did. and through all of that, you kept your hand on his arm. and sometimes, your thumb moved slightly, like it was drawing little circles. he couldn’t tell if that was on purpose, and he wasn’t about to ask.

“ted tries too hard,” you said eventually, still watching the screen. “like… if he just stopped declaring things every five minutes, he’d probably be fine.”

“yeah,” sunghoon said, trying not to think too hard about how many things he’d rehearsed in the mirror just in case you ever brought up relationships. “relatable.”

you laughed lightly, looked at him sideways. “you’re not like ted, though.”

“is that a good thing?”

“it’s a good thing,” you said. and then, just like that, you leaned your head against his shoulder. not in rom-com way. just a quiet shift, like it made sense.

sunghoon blinked at the tv, which he now couldn’t see properly because your head was in the way, and decided that was perfectly fine. he didn’t need to see the episode. he’d seen it before anyway. probably twice, maybe three times. and you didn’t say anything after that, and he didn’t either. you stayed there, quiet but not awkward, and the blanket warmed up between you. he was very aware of how still he was sitting, as if moving even slightly would ruin the balance of the moment. your hand slipped down from his arm and onto his knee, not like a grand romantic gesture, more like you forgot where your hand was supposed to go and decided it was his knee now. he didn’t know what to do with that. so he let it be.

when the episode ended, you didn’t move right away. the next one auto-started, the theme song rolling in again, and you let out a soft hum, like maybe you were thinking, or maybe you were just full of snacks.

then you said, not looking at him, “we should make this our thing.”

sunghoon turned his head slightly. “what thing?”

“this,” you said. “watching how i met your mother together.”

he nodded slowly, trying not to seem too eager. “yeah. i’m good with that.”

you finally looked at him, that same easy smile on your face, and then you bumped his knee with yours, not hard, just enough to make sure he was still paying attention. he smiled back, heart doing things he would later try to explain to jay using weird metaphors involving elevators and jelly beans. and just like that, he knew he wasn’t imagining things anymore. or maybe he still was. but either way, it felt kind of real. real enough to sit quietly and let the next episode start, your head on his shoulder, your hand on his knee, and the thought in his head that maybe, finally, this wasn’t just another almost.

after that first night, watching how i met your mother together became a thing, not officially, not scheduled, not even discussed really, but it kept happening. every couple of days, one of you would text and the other would know exactly what it meant. snacks were expected, drinks too, sometimes takeout, sometimes just popcorn and half a leftover soda, but always the same couch, always the same routine.

it didn’t start out that physical, but over time, the way you sat next to each other got… closer. more relaxed. you got comfortable first, you always did. you’d throw your legs across his lap like it meant nothing, lean your head on his shoulder when you were too lazy to sit straight, or curl into his side like it was the most natural place to be. and sunghoon would freeze every time, nod like he was fine, then immediately go into full internal system reboot. he’d sit there pretending to be unaffected, nodding at the tv with the intensity of someone watching a government briefing, while you poked his knee or played with the drawstring of his hoodie like it was just a fidget toy. and he never stopped you. not once. not even when you fell asleep on his arm and drooled slightly on his hoodie sleeve. (he washed it the next day but also kind of wanted to keep it that way. he didn't tell anyone that.)

you were always the one to touch first. he was always the one to overthink it. but then one night, it was raining a little outside, and the apartment was warm, and you'd made tea for both of you for some reason, even though neither of you usually drank tea during sitcom reruns. the lights were low, the episode was one of those emotional ones where ted was being dramatic about someone leaving, and you were curled up right next to him, knee pressed to his thigh, blanket half over your lap and half over his. you looked like you might fall asleep again, but you weren’t. you were just quiet and calm, and sunghoon, in a moment of bravery that he didn’t plan and definitely didn’t rehearse, lifted his arm and rested it around your shoulders, not awkwardly, not halfway, but all the way around. solid, like he meant it.

you didn’t react for a second, then shifted under his arm and leaned your head onto his chest without saying anything. you didn’t joke, you didn’t make it weird. you just rested there like you’d been waiting for him to do that for a while. because, well, you were.

he stared at the tv, heart going approximately 800 beats per minute, trying very hard not to mess anything up by existing too loudly.

“this is comfortable,” you mumbled after a moment, voice low.

“yeah,” he said, somehow managing to sound calm even though his brain was short-circuiting. “you have a surprisingly heavy head, by the way.”

you snorted. “excuse me?”

“it’s not an insult,” he said, trying not to laugh. “it’s just. structurally. very dense.”

“maybe it’s full of all the times you’ve secretly checked me out and thought i didn’t notice.”

he blinked. actually blinked. then coughed, because his throat forgot how to function. “what— i— that’s—”

you laughed. you were clearly not taking it that seriously. you were just being you, casually flirty in a way that felt like breathing. and he could have just let it go, he could’ve rolled his eyes and changed the subject and moved on like he always did. but for some reason, this time, he didn’t.

“if i was checking you out,” he said, still looking at the screen, “i wouldn’t do it secretly.”

you looked up at him a little, one eyebrow raised, that half-smile forming on your face, the one you used when you caught him saying something he clearly hadn’t meant to say out loud. “oh?” you said. simple and amused. a bit dangerous.

sunghoon realized what he’d just said about five seconds too late, and he wanted to disappear into the couch, but it was too late now. the sentence was out there, floating in the air. you didn’t say anything for a moment. just shifted again, a little closer this time, your arm settling across his stomach casually, like this was fine, like this was good, and maybe it was. he didn’t say anything else. neither did you. the episode kept playing.

but the energy had shifted just slightly, like something had tilted in the right direction. and for once, sunghoon didn’t try to fix it or overthink it or joke it away. he just sat there, with your head on his chest, your arm across him, and the feeling that maybe, somehow, he’d just started something without even meaning to. and the best part was that you didn’t seem to mind at all.

and it was after that night on the couch that sunghoon started getting a little braver. not confident movie character braver, just small steps. like brushing your hair out of your face without immediately apologizing for it. or letting his hand stay on your knee when you sat close. or making comments that maybe sounded flirty but were delivered in such a deadpan voice that it took you a second to realize he was being serious.

he started leaning in more when you talked. he started answering your texts faster without pretending to wait five minutes like he used to. he made playlists and shared them without labeling them something obvious like songs that make me think of your face (he wanted to, but he didn’t). he was still himself, still sunghoon, still deeply confused most of the time, but there was something about that night that made him feel like maybe you wouldn’t run if he actually tried.

a few weeks later, there was a night out. the bar under the apartment again. the usual crew, some people from college, a couple new friends no one really remembered inviting. sunghoon had no idea what they were celebrating. he asked twice. jay said something about a work promotion, jake said it was just friday, and someone else said it was heeseung’s cousin’s birthday. none of it felt convincing.

but it didn’t matter. everyone was drinking, someone had ordered two baskets of fries “for the table,” and you were sitting next to sunghoon, laughing at something he’d said that wasn’t even a joke, and your hand was on his thigh like it belonged there. and sunghoon, for once, didn’t freeze. he leaned toward you, nudged your shoulder with his, and made some dumb comment about the song playing, but you laughed anyway, then leaned your head briefly on his shoulder and left it there just long enough to make his brain forget how to function for a bit.

everyone else was shouting over each other. jay was trying to convince jake to join him in some tequila shot competition that wasn’t a real thing. jungwon was filming something on his phone that would definitely not make sense in the morning. and sunghoon was sitting there thinking about how your fingers kept tracing circles on his knee, very casually, very slowly, like you weren’t even thinking about it.

and then (of course, because the universe has a sense of humor), some guy appeared, tall. friendly-looking, clearly a few drinks in. not part of your group. he walked up and said something to you. sunghoon didn’t catch the first part, just the tone: the slightly too smooth, trying-too-hard kind of tone. you laughed politely, the way people do when they’re trying not to encourage. the guy leaned in closer, asked your name. said something else that sunghoon couldn’t fully hear but saw you shift a little in response. and something in his stomach tightened. 

he wasn’t mad. he wasn’t even surprised. people liked you, obviously. you were warm and funny and way too pretty for him to be sitting next to you in the first place. it wasn’t the guy’s fault, he didn’t know anything. sunghoon should’ve done this months ago, if he had the courage to do it. still, he went quiet. he looked down at his drink, then at you, then back at the guy. he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to do something. you weren’t his, there were no rules.

the guy kept talking. not aggressive, just persistent. you were still smiling, but it looked tighter now. less amused, more tired. and then, suddenly, you turned slightly, reached over, and rested your hand on sunghoon’s arm.

“hey,” you said, looking right at the guy. “sorry, my boyfriend gets kinda jealous.”

and you said it so calmly, so casually. like it was the truth. like this was normal. like sunghoon was your boyfriend and not just the guy who once forgot how to speak when you tied your hair up in front of him. the guy blinked, looked at sunghoon, who was now frozen mid-sip of his drink, cup halfway to his mouth.

sunghoon nodded once. not too fast, just enough to sell it. “yeah,” he said, voice steady. “super jealous. very possessive. not proud of it.”

you gave him the smallest side glance, clearly trying not to laugh, and squeezed his arm like you’re doing great, keep going, oscar-worthy stuff. the guy held up his hands like no worries, totally cool, and backed off without drama. he disappeared into the crowd.

the second he was gone, you looked at sunghoon and grinned. “thanks for playing along.”

he blinked. “yeah. of course.”

“you did the jealous boyfriend voice really well.”

“it’s just my regular voice,” he muttered, eyes still on his drink.

you leaned your chin on his shoulder for a second. “maybe you should use it more often.”

he didn’t say anything. mostly because his entire internal system was shutting down again. but this time, he wasn’t panicking, not really. his heart was definitely doing some weird rhythmic gymnastics and his brain had already started drafting a completely unnecessary analysis titled "what does it mean when she fake-calls you her boyfriend but then also holds your arm and looks at you like that," but he wasn’t spiraling. not in the usual sense.

so he just sat there, letting the noise of the bar blur around him, while you sipped the rest of your drink like nothing happened. and maybe for you, nothing had. maybe it was just a line, a joke. a way to get rid of an annoying guy without a scene. or maybe it was something else. something between the lines. something you weren’t saying out loud yet either.

“i want a terrible burger,” you said suddenly, finishing the last of your soda and setting the cup down with dramatic finality. “like, a bad one. like, i want to regret it in the morning.”

sunghoon blinked, pulled back into reality. “what, like… fast food bad?”

“exactly,” you said, eyes lighting up. “like wendy’s. i want to see a sad lettuce leaf in my sandwich.”

he snorted. “that’s oddly specific.”

you stood up and grabbed your jacket. “come on, boyfriend. let’s go to wendy’s.”

he didn’t correct you. he just followed you out, tossing a quick goodbye to the group still half-yelling about tequila, and stepped into the night air that felt colder than it should’ve after all that body heat and bar lighting. you walked a few blocks, mostly in silence, still a little buzzed but in that sleepy, satisfied way that made everything feel slower. then, right as you were crossing an empty street, you reached out and grabbed his hand. not in a performative way, you just took it, like it was there and you felt like holding it. like you remembered the fake-boyfriend story and decided to keep the bit going. or maybe not, maybe you just wanted to.

“you’re doing great, by the way,” you said, fingers laced through his like it meant nothing. “very convincing. the protective arm thing? ten out of ten.”

he glanced down at your hands still together. he nodded slowly. “i studied for the role.”

you grinned. “you’re a natural.”

he tried not to think too hard about it, but of course he did anyway. because holding hands wasn’t a big deal. except it was, except it was a big deal when it was you. but he kept walking next to you, hand in hand, and his brain just quietly melted. you were still holding his hand. you pointed at the wendy’s sign ahead like it was a beacon of hope. “we feast,” you declared.

he laughed under his breath, mostly because he didn’t know what else to do with all the emotions bouncing around in his chest. he didn’t know where this was going, he didn’t know what this meant. but he knew he wanted more of this — your hand, your jokes, your version of terrible food decisions. and maybe that was enough for now.

the wendy’s was almost empty, just a sleepy guy mopping the floor in the corner and a cashier humming quietly behind the counter. you walked straight to the self-ordering kiosk with the confidence of someone who had done this many times before, tapping the screen. sunghoon stood behind you, close enough that he could read the menu too, but mostly because the screen was small and the space was narrow. it wasn’t like he planned it, he just stepped forward once and then didn’t step back.

you didn’t seem to mind. you were scrolling through the combo options, talking to yourself. “okay, nuggets are too risky. fries, obviously. double cheeseburger, or do you want the one with the weird barbecue sauce again?” you didn’t turn around, just asked, still facing the screen, “what do you want?”

and he wasn’t thinking. not in a conscious way. he was just staring at the back of your head, at the way your shirt was falling off one shoulder slightly, at how close you were, at how warm his chest felt from where you were just standing in front of it like it was nothing.

so he said it. like it wasn’t anything at all.

“you.”

you laughed immediately. the kind of laugh that came out of your nose and mouth at the same time, short and surprised and familiar. you kept tapping the screen like you hadn’t heard him properly, or like he was joking. but sunghoon didn’t laugh, he didn’t say anything else. and you paused.

you turned around slowly, still half-grinning, clearly ready to tease him, but then you looked up and saw that he wasn’t grinning back. he was just looking down at you, like this wasn’t a joke. like he didn’t care that it was happening next to a laminated poster of a frosty.

and something in your expression shifted too. the smile faded, but not in a bad way, just softened, slowed down. like whatever you’d been holding back was now impossible to keep behind the usual banter. so you stared at him for a second, head tilted slightly, like you were trying to decide if you were allowed to do what you were about to do.

and then you did it anyway. you reached up, grabbed the front of his hoodie, and pulled him down toward you. not roughly, not urgently, just with purpose, and he didn’t hesitate, didn’t question it, didn’t even breathe before his mouth was on yours.

he didn’t stop to think about it, didn’t hesitate, didn’t calculate angles or worry about logistics, which was rare for him. he just moved. his heart was doing something that felt like a cross between a drum solo and a panic attack. he could feel the heat rising up the back of his neck, which was annoying because that always happened when he was nervous, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now because your face was right there and your lips were already on his and he was kissing you.

he was kissing you. okay. okay. this was happening.

his first thought was that your lips were soft, which was so cliché and unoriginal he immediately scolded himself internally, but then he had no time to think of anything better because your hands were still on his hoodie, still holding him close, and his own hands had instinctively gone to your waist and stayed there like they knew what to do even though his brain absolutely did not. 

it was warm. not just physically, but in that weird way where everything around him felt quiet all of a sudden, even though there was still the distant hum of the soda machine and the soft squeak of the mop across the tile floor. the kiss wasn’t perfect, his nose got in the way a little. he turned his head too far at first and had to readjust, which made him silently panic for a second like wait did i ruin it did she notice oh my god i bumped her tooth, but you didn’t pull back, you just leaned in more.

your mouth tasted like sprite and some other food vaguely artificial and it should’ve been gross but somehow it wasn’t. somehow it just felt real and simple. like this was something you did, apparently. kissed each other now. this was now part of the routine.

his hands gripped your sides gently like he was making sure you didn’t vanish. he didn’t know how long the kiss lasted. three seconds? ten? a full minute? he couldn’t tell. time had stopped cooperating with him. all he knew was that you were kissing him like you meant it, like this wasn’t an accident or a joke or a weird side quest in a long friendship. like this was on purpose.

his brain tried to catch up the entire time. there were at least four full thoughts bouncing around at once, all useless:

1. what if this is a dream and i wake up and i’m still on the couch with chips on my chest.

2. i don’t know what to do with my thumbs. why do thumbs exist?

3. i can’t believe she just kissed me next to a wendy’s totem.

4. i don’t want this to stop.

and then, eventually, it did stop.

you pulled back just slightly, enough to breathe, enough to look up at him. but you didn’t move away. you stayed close, like you weren’t done, like you just needed a second. so he stood there, hands still on your waist, completely unsure of what his face was doing. his mouth might’ve been slightly open, he didn’t know. his thoughts were still lagging a full minute behind his body.

you looked at him and said, “so that’s how we’re doing this now.”

his brain was still stuck on the kiss, but he blinked, nodded once, and somehow said, “apparently.” you tilted your head just a little, searching his face for something, and he realized he probably looked like a deer that had wandered into traffic and liked it. he cleared his throat, but his voice still came out low and uneven when he said, “i’m not complaining.”

you exhaled slowly, and then you smiled again, this time real and unguarded and a little too big. “first kiss next to a wendy’s kiosk. this is what dreams are made of.”

“honestly,” he said, “it’s probably the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me in a fast food place.”

you laughed, resting your forehead briefly against his chest. “mine too. tragically.”

he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy again, but it wasn’t the bad kind of shy. it was the kind that made him want to say things he’d been sitting on for weeks. “so,” he started, “there’s something else i should probably admit.”

you looked up. “okay?”

he hesitated. “you know that gym across my street? the one you’ve been defending for months?”

you narrowed your eyes. “yeah…”

he cleared his throat. “so. uh. i was the one taking it back every time. team valor. red guy with the dragonite.”

your mouth dropped open slightly. “you’re shadyhoon420?”

he winced. “in my defense, i made that username in like 2018. it was funny then.”

“it’s still funny now,” you said, shaking your head. “i thought shadyhoon420 was some twelve-year-old with too much free time.”

“nope,” he said. “twenty-something with unresolved competitive issues.”

you laughed again, full-body this time, like you couldn’t believe it. “you were trolling me for months.”

“i was trying to win,” he said. “you were annoyingly good.”

“you were annoying in general.”

“and yet here we are,” he said, glancing down at you, still tucked into his chest. “making out in a wendy’s.”

you rolled your eyes, but not in the real way. more like you were trying not to grin again. your hands were still holding onto the front of his hoodie, like letting go didn’t feel necessary yet. and he didn’t want you to. his hands hadn’t moved either, they were still resting on your waist, warm and steady, like his body knew what his brain was still trying to accept, that this wasn’t hypothetical anymore, it was real. it had happened. you kissed him, and he kissed you back.

he didn’t say anything else right away. not because he didn’t have anything to say, but because he was still sorting through the fact that for weeks, maybe longer, he’d been inching closer to you in little ways — a leg under the blanket, a hand brushing yours, a text that was maybe too honest — and now suddenly there was no more guessing. you’d pulled him in. you kissed him. you’d looked him in the face like you were just as tired of waiting.

and somehow it wasn’t weird, it wasn’t awkward. it didn’t feel like something they’d both laugh off tomorrow and pretend didn’t happen. it felt like something that had been quietly building in the background, so slowly neither of them had wanted to be the one to name it out loud, until you just did.

and now he was standing there, still in your arms, still close enough to feel the warmth of your breath on his neck, realizing that something had already started. not five minutes ago. not in the middle of the kiss, but way earlier. maybe on that first night on the couch. maybe the first time you texted him about something dumb at 2 a.m. or maybe the first time you knocked his leg with yours and didn’t move it away. and whatever it was, it wasn’t a maybe anymore.

and honestly, standing there in front of a glowing touchscreen that still said “order now” in giant, red font, that felt exactly right. because of course it would be like this, not planned, not perfect. just stupidly casual and somehow kind of perfect anyway.

you pulled away first, but only a little, and said, “okay, romantic moment over. i’m starving.”

“yeah,” sunghoon said, blinking back into functionality. “same.”

you turned back to the kiosk, finally placing the order, laughing again when he insisted on extra fries “because i feel emotionally vulnerable and carbs help.” you didn’t make fun of him. you just nodded like, yeah, that tracks. and when the food came out, you grabbed the tray and headed to the corner booth, the one you two always sat in when the place was empty, which it still was. it felt like your booth now, like it had seen things, like it knew too much.

you sat down first, immediately curling one leg under yourself and holding the burger with two hands like it was sacred. sunghoon sat next to you, not across, not leaving space, but right beside you like always, except this time, his arm went around your shoulders the second he sat down, no hesitation, no awkward pause. and you didn’t just lean into him like before. you really leaned.

your head dropped to his shoulder for a second before you took your first bite, and he felt your whole body relax against his like this was exactly where you wanted to be, and it wasn’t like before. it wasn’t just a friendly lean or a casual touch, it was closer. it felt like something that had been waiting to happen and now finally had.

you both ate in silence for a minute, the kind of silence that wasn’t empty. it was full of whatever this new thing was between you. you passed fries back and forth like it was muscle memory. he picked the pickles off your sandwich without being asked. you stole his soda without warning. and he didn’t flinch when your hand found his leg under the table and stayed there. you’d done this before. sat like this, shared food, leaned into each other, stayed late until the lights started flickering. but tonight it felt different, for very kissy obvious reasons.

sunghoon looked over at you once, mid-bite, and you caught him staring. you smiled with your mouth full and said, “don’t get all sappy on me.”

he shrugged. “too late.”

you shook your head and leaned into him again, chewing quietly, like it was no big deal. but he knew it was, and he knew this was only the beginning. and he also knew — later, when you were walking home and holding hands again like it was completely natural — that he was fully, entirely, probably hopelessly into you. and he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore.

the weeks after that night at wendy’s were weird in the least dramatic way possible. nothing major changed. you were still texting dumb questions to each other and you were still stealing his fries like they were community property. but now you kissed him, now he could hold your hand without pretending he was reaching for something else. now he could rest his chin on top of your head when you were sitting on the couch and no one would say anything sarcastic about it. it was new, but it also felt like it had already been there the whole time, just waiting for someone to label it.

sunghoon had fully expected to be awkward about it. and to be fair, sometimes he was. he still got weirdly quiet when you called him “babe” for the first time, and he once accidentally called you “dude” right after kissing you and spent the next two hours apologizing. but mostly, things were good, comfortable and fun.

you started doing more couple-y stuff without needing to make it A Thing. you grocery shopped together, you did laundry at the same time, folded each other’s hoodies like an old married couple, and argued over the right way to hang dry t-shirts. you went to a mini golf place that was weirdly intense about rules, and sunghoon realized you were more competitive than him, which was saying something.

he started to show you more of the things he usually kept to himself. like his half-written playlist ideas. like the folder of blurry phone videos he took of you without meaning to. like the fact that he still had a high score on fruit ninja and was proud of it. and one night, after you’d been watching some random youtube rabbit hole of early 2000s pop rock videos and you said, “ugh i forgot how much i loved mcfly,” sunghoon sat there in silence for a second before quietly saying, “i need to play falling in love for you.”

he played it slowly, a little shakily. he forgot a chord halfway through and mumbled something that wasn’t a word, but you didn’t laugh. you didn’t make fun of him. you just sat there listening like it was your favorite thing he’d ever done. and when he finished, you kissed his cheek and said, “you’re disgusting. i love it.”

after that, he stopped holding back so much. he let himself be more flirty, more open, more ridiculous. and to his surprise, you were just as bad, maybe worse. you texted him things like “miss ur dumb face” even if you’d seen him three hours ago. you’d randomly send voice notes where you just said “hi” in different tones and asked him to rate them.

and that’s when sunghoon realized something big: you were just as emotionally reckless as him.

you made plans too early. you got soft too fast. you saved pictures of things that reminded you of him and showed them later like it was nothing. and he was so used to being the one who caught feelings first that it completely broke his brain a little. so he started noticing it in small things. like how you’d always scoot closer to him even if there was already zero space left on the couch. or how you remembered random things he said in passing and brought them up a week later like they were important. or how your entire face changed when he walked into a room, even if you were pretending to be cool about it.

and then one night, when you were sitting cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, he blurted something out without meaning to. “did you and heeseung ever date?”

you looked up, blinked. “what?”

“i mean,” he said quickly, “not that it matters now. i just. i always kinda thought there was something there. like before.” you chewed slowly, still staring at him. “like,” he continued, clearly panicking now, “not in a jealous way. i just thought maybe you two had a thing. the way you talked. i don’t know. i used to overthink it. a lot. i almost stopped talking to you once because of it. which is dumb. very dumb.”

you swallowed, still looking at him like he’d just admitted he once ate a shoe. then you said, “sunghoon. heeseung and i bonded over the fact that we both had a crush on the same person.”

he blinked. “wait. what?”

“it was you.” he stared at you, spoon halfway to his mouth, not moving. “i’m kidding,” you said, snorting. “he had a crush on someone else. i just liked you. he used to give me pep talks about it.”

sunghoon’s brain did not know what to do with that information. “so… you liked me back then?”

“yeah,” you said, chewing again. “obviously.”

he was quiet for a long second. then: “cool.”

you smiled at him, mouth full, and kicked his foot under the table. he kicked you back. and that was that.

the first time you and sunghoon went out with everyone again, it was a thursday night. which already made it feel less official, like no one could accuse anyone of being too romantic if it was a weeknight. you and sunghoon had been in your thing for a few weeks now, whatever it was. there still wasn’t a label. no one had said “we’re dating” or “we’re together.”

but he kissed you when he saw you. he held your hand while you scrolled through takeout menus. he stayed up late with you watching videos of frogs in tiny hats. you were his. i mean, probably. almost definitely. he just hadn’t said it out loud yet and neither had you. and now, somehow, you were going to a bar together like that wasn’t the most emotionally dangerous setting in the world.

sunghoon wasn’t nervous, exactly. but he also had no idea how he was supposed to act. was he supposed to sit next to you or leave a one-person buffer zone? was he allowed to have a hand on your back when you walked in, or was that too much? could he kiss your cheek in public? would that be weird? was not doing it weirder?

you, of course, didn’t seem to be thinking about any of this. you wore that skirt he liked. you stole one of his rings before you left the apartment and didn’t even say anything about it. you walked next to him like nothing was different. and for you, maybe it wasn’t. maybe this was all normal. maybe you were normal. sunghoon, meanwhile, was just trying not to look suspicious.

they got there a little late. jay and jungwon were already posted up at the booth like they'd been born there. jake was at the bar talking to someone who may or may not have been his date, or just someone he was bothering. heeseung was somewhere, probably emotionally observing the room from the shadows like he always did. and as soon as sunghoon and you walked in together, everyone looked up. they all did the same thing: that casual glance, followed by the silent smirk, followed by the overly casual “oh hey, you made it” that clearly meant oh hey, we know what’s going on here.

sunghoon didn’t react, just nodded once, tried to be cool. completely missed the chair when he went to sit down and had to pretend he meant to lean sideways.

jay knew. of course jay knew. jay had known before sunghoon even knew. jungwon knew because jay knew. jake knew because heeseung knew, and heeseung knew because heeseung knew everything. and now all of them knew. all of them were being polite about it, but they knew. the only people who didn’t know that everyone knew were you and sunghoon.

you sat next to him, thigh against his, arm slung casually over the back of the booth, like it was no big deal. like you did this all the time. and maybe you did, now. maybe this was your thing. but sunghoon still didn’t know where to put his hand. he settled for resting it on his leg, then moved it, then put it back. he wanted to put his arm around you. he just didn’t want to make it A Thing.

jay raised an eyebrow across the table, very subtle. sunghoon glared at him. you leaned over and whispered something about the drinks being overpriced and then rested your head against his shoulder for half a second like it was nothing. sunghoon felt every cell in his body shift three degrees to the left. he didn’t even hear what jay was saying. he was too busy pretending to be normal. jungwon looked like he wanted to say something. jake looked like he was writing fanfiction in his head.

someone made a toast. someone spilled something. someone brought fries to the table and you immediately took three and fed one to sunghoon without thinking about it, and that’s when he saw the look on jake’s face. pure glee. jake mouthed awww like a traitor. sunghoon blinked and looked at you. looked at the group and realized: they all knew. they were all just pretending not to know.

he looked down at his fry, chewed slowly. whispered, “we’re not being subtle, are we.”

you looked at him, smiled, and said, “do you want to be?”

he blinked again. “not really.”

you leaned in and kissed his cheek. sunghoon thought he might combust, but in a good way. and across the table, jay, jungwon, and jake all gave each other the most painfully smug looks sunghoon had ever seen. it didn’t matter, he didn’t care. you were still close, your hand was in his lap now. you were talking to heeseung like nothing was happening. sunghoon was still alive (probably). and whatever this thing was between you two, it wasn’t labeled yet. but it was something, and maybe that was enough for now.

you left the bar a little past midnight, not totally sober but not out of it either, that sweet spot where everything was a little funnier and a little louder and no one was ready to admit they were already tired. it wasn’t freezing out, but you still tugged on sunghoon’s sleeve like your arms didn’t work and said, “i’m cold. fix it.” so he handed you his jacket without hesitation, which you immediately put on and did not zip up, because apparently the rules of temperature didn’t apply to you. the sleeves covered your hands and the shoulders were too big and you looked stupidly good in it, which made sunghoon feel something deep in his chest he chose not to name.

you walked in silence for a few steps, close but not touching, until you bumped your hand into his once, twice, and then just took it like it was yours. which, at this point, it basically was. “so,” you said, casual, like you hadn’t already been curled up next to him in a booth for the last three hours, “you wanna come over?”

sunghoon blinked. “like… now?”

you raised an eyebrow. “no, next tuesday.”

he blinked again, because his brain had chosen violence and was now playing a full powerpoint presentation of possible meanings behind that sentence. he was trying very hard to be normal, to just smile and nod and say something charming, but instead he said, “uh-huh. okay. sure. i mean, unless you were just being polite and i—”

“sunghoon.”

“yep.”

“do you wanna come over?”

he nodded, fast. “yeah. yes. definitely.”

you grinned like you knew exactly what he was doing: spiraling, overanalyzing, trying to decide if “come over” meant snacks and a rerun or if it meant come over come over.

your place was a ten-minute walk, but it felt like thirty-five because sunghoon’s brain would not shut up. he wasn’t panicking, not really, but he also couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that this wasn’t just another hangout. something about the way you asked felt different. something about the way your hand kept tightening around his, like you were already thinking about where it would be once you got upstairs.

by the time you were at your door, you were still holding his hand and sunghoon’s heart was going fast enough that he had to pretend he wasn’t out of breath just from standing there. you unlocked the door and looked at him over your shoulder. “you coming in or are you just gonna stand there looking like you’re being peer pressured by a ghost.”

he stepped inside. “i’ve never been peer pressured by a ghost, for the record.”

you tossed your keys on the counter and kicked off your shoes. “there’s a first time for everything.”

he toed off his sneakers slower, trying to figure out where to stand, what to say, how to breathe like a functioning adult. you pulled off his jacket, handed it back to him, and then did that thing where you walked past him, brushing your hand across his lower back like it didn’t mean anything, even though it absolutely did.

he stared at the floor. then at the fridge. then at you, who was now grabbing two glasses and saying something about trying a new wine that tasted like “grape juice with peach” and he had no idea what it meant or what to do with his hands, or his mouth, or his entire existence. because the truth was: he liked you. he really really really liked you. and he’d been pretending not to want more, not to think about what it’d be like to stay over, to fall asleep next to you and wake up next to you and maybe never go home again. he’d been pretending it was casual. because pretending was safer, pretending didn’t risk messing anything up.

and now here you were, in your apartment, handing him a glass of bad wine and looking at him like you were waiting to see if he’d finally catch up. “you okay?” you asked, leaning against the counter, glass in hand, looking a little too pretty for someone under yellow kitchen lighting.

he cleared his throat. “me? yeah. totally fine. great. really calm.”

you tilted your head. “you sure?”

“yep.”

you walked over slowly, standing in front of him now, wine still in one hand, the other reaching up to brush the hair off his forehead. “you’re freaking out.”

“i’m not,” he said, eyes wide.

“you are.”

“i’m— okay, i’m slightly freaking out.”

you smiled and leaned in, close enough that your breath hit his neck. “wanna know a secret?”

“always,” he said, voice lower than he meant it to be, because everything about this moment was doing something strange to his brain.

you leaned in just a little more, like you were going to whisper something, and he instinctively tilted his head toward you, breath caught, waiting. “i’ve been thinking about kissing you all night,” you said, soft but direct, like you were telling him something about the weather. “like, not just kissing. you know.”

sunghoon froze for a second. not cartoon-style. just momentarily lost control of every muscle in his body. his first instinct was to deflect, make a joke, say something stupid. throw himself out the window, maybe. but he didn’t, not this time. because his second instinct — the real one, the one under all the fake calm — was to kiss you right now. fully and properly, like he hadn’t been holding back for weeks.

you raised an eyebrow, watching him short-circuit, and said, “too much?”

he shook his head. “no. i just. wow. okay.”

“you okay?” you asked again, but this time there was a small smile on your lips, and it was very clear you knew the answer.

he nodded. “yeah. i just wasn’t ready to hear that sentence. and now it’s all i’m hearing.”

you laughed a little and stepped even closer, your body brushing up against his. “do you want me to say it again?”

he swallowed hard. “maybe later.”

you bit your lip, not in a calculated way, just like it was a reflex, and something about that made something snap a little inside him. he set his glass down on the counter, gently, like he needed both hands for whatever was about to happen. then he looked at you and said, “i don’t really want to keep pretending i’m not into you in a completely embarrassing way.”

“good,” you said, fingers grazing the hem of his shirt now, slow, testing. “because i was getting kinda tired of pretending not to notice.”

he leaned in finally, mouth close to yours but not quite there yet, and asked, “so we’re not pretending anymore?”

“nah,” you whispered. “let’s be very real.”

and that’s when he kissed you. not like before, not soft or quick or questioning. this one was different. his hands were on your waist, pulling you in like he was done pretending you weren’t all he’d been thinking about. your hands slid up his chest and curled behind his neck, like you were grounding yourself. like you’d been waiting for this, too.

at some point, you mumbled something against his mouth — maybe his name, maybe just a sound — and he breathed out a quiet “god, you make me crazy” before he could even think about it.

you pulled back just slightly, eyes a little dazed, and said, “you’re gonna say stuff like that and then expect me to behave?”

“no,” he said, already leaning in again. “definitely not.”

you were backing him toward the hallway now, hand still tangled in his hair, mouth still on his, and every nerve in his body was firing off in every direction at once, but none of it felt panicked anymore. it just felt like finally. like this was where all of it had been leading: the late nights, the inside jokes, the pretending-not-to-care casual touches that had never really been casual at all.

sunghoon's back bumped softly into the wall and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. your body was pressed to his now, fully, and your mouth moved down to his jaw, then to the side of his neck, slow and unhurried, like you were trying to memorize the way he felt. his hands were on your waist, thumbs sliding under the hem of your shirt without meaning to, like they’d decided on their own that they wanted more. and the thing was, so did he. he wanted more. not just physically, though that was part of it. but everything, all of it. the way you looked at him like he was worth undivided attention, the way you touched him like you weren’t scared of what it meant, the way you weren’t hesitating now.

he had no idea what he was doing, not really. but it didn’t matter, not with the way your fingers had found their way under his shirt now too, trailing up his ribs like you were checking if he was real. he was starting to think he wasn’t. you leaned back just enough to look at him, your face close, breathing uneven. “you good?” you asked, voice low, teasing, but still somehow gentle.

he nodded, barely. “yeah. i just…” you waited, eyes flicking to his lips again, like you already knew what he was about to say. “i really want you,” he said, quiet but steady, “and i’m trying not to freak out about it.”

you smiled, something softer now, less teasing, and leaned in again, your mouth brushing his as you said, “then don’t.”

and he didn’t. he kissed you again, deeper this time, one hand sliding up your back, the other staying low on your waist, anchoring you to him. you pulled him away from the wall slowly, guiding him back toward your room with nothing but your body pressed into his and the way you kissed him like you’d been waiting just as long. his hands were shaking a little, but not in a bad way. in the way that came from finally letting go of all the restraint he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying.

you turned around once, just before stepping through the door, and looked at him, not playful this time, not challenging, just full of whatever this was between you. then you pulled him in by the front of his shirt, and he followed, heart pounding, completely undone by how easy it felt to say yes to you.

he followed you into the room, one of his hands went straight to your waist, pulling you in again, and the other slid into your hair like he was finally done pretending he didn’t want to touch you like this. you looked up at him, mouth parted, breathing a little uneven now, like maybe you weren’t expecting him to get like this, not this sure of himself. “you okay?” he asked, echoing your earlier words, voice low now and just barely smug. “you’re looking a little... distracted.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard for half a second. “you think you’re funny now?”

“no,” he said, fingers slipping under the back of your shirt as he leaned in, “i think i’m winning.”

you didn’t say anything. just kissed him again, rougher this time, like you were challenging him to keep up, and he did. he moved with you, pressed into you, kissed you back like he finally knew he could. he walked you backward without breaking the kiss, hands firm on your waist, pushing you gently until your legs hit the edge of the bed. you sat first, pulling him down with you, and he smiled against your mouth as you tugged at his shirt like you were losing patience.

“you’ve been thinking about this too, huh?” he murmured against your throat, voice dark and teasing, lips brushing that spot right under your jaw that made your knees weak. you didn’t answer, just mouthed at his neck in retaliation. he chuckled. “yeah,” he whispered. “me too. been losing my mind over you.”

“shut up,” you said, though your hands were already sliding under the hem of his shirt.

“make me,” he said, and you actually laughed, this breathless, surprised sound that turned into a half-moan when his mouth found that spot below your jaw you didn’t even know was there. he pulled back for a second, just long enough to look at you. your hair was a little messy, your lips were red, your hands were still on him, and he couldn’t believe he’d spent so many nights trying to act casual about you.

and sunghoon — who had once nearly passed out just from you holding his hand at wendy’s — now had you under him, fingers teasing at your waistband, mouth trailing along your collarbone, fully lost in the way you were looking at him like you wanted everything at once.

you shifted under him, hips tilting up slightly. his hands were more confident now, not just hovering or tracing but gripping, like he didn’t want to miss any part of you. one hand slid up under your shirt, palm warm against your stomach, and he felt you tense just a little, then relax into it completely.

you tugged him closer, thighs parting so he could fit between them, and he fit there like he belonged, grinding down slowly, testing. your breath hitched, nails digging into his shoulders, and that did something to him. he groaned quietly, not on purpose, and you caught it. your fingers were in his hair again, tugging a little now, and he swore under his breath when your teeth grazed his bottom lip. your shirt was pushed up now, not off yet, but enough for his hands to explore, and his mouth followed the trail — slow kisses down your neck, then across your chest, lingering just long enough to make you arch into him. your breath hitched again, and he looked up at you, completely gone.

“tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, serious for a second, low and right against your skin.

you shook your head. “don’t.”

​​your hands were under his shirt now, greedy and warm, and he let out a shaky breath as you slid them up his back. “fuck,” he muttered. “you feel so good—better than i ever imagined.” he kissed you again, hungrier this time, like he wanted to memorize your mouth. “you’re so fucking pretty, y/n. can’t believe i get to touch you.”

your shirt was off now, just tugged over your head and dropped somewhere behind you, and sunghoon stared for maybe a second longer than he meant to. not out of shock, but because he couldn’t believe you were real. that this was real. that this was actually happening. and then you reached for the hem of his shirt, fingers cool against his stomach, and that was it, he was done pretending he had a single functioning thought left in his head.

he let you pull it over his head, arms moving clumsily, breath already shallow. your hands were on his skin before the fabric even hit the floor, sliding up over his chest, across his shoulders, and he had to physically stop himself from just collapsing into you. you bit your lip when his hips rolled into yours again, slower this time, like he was testing the friction. your breath caught, and you arched into him without thinking. “hoon…”

his whole body shuddered when you said his name like that. “god, you sound so good,” he breathed. “you don’t even know what you do to me.” his hands were back on your waist now, warm and grounding, and he kissed you again, slower, sweeter, like he wanted to savor the taste of you. “you’re not gonna get rid of me after this, you know,” he whispered into your mouth. “not after i’ve had you like this.”

you smiled a little, breathless. “who said i wanted to get rid of you?”

that made him pause for a second, just to look at you again, like he couldn’t believe this was really happening. “jesus,” he muttered. “you’re gonna ruin me.”

you pulled him down for another kiss, hands slipping lower, dragging your fingers across the waistband of his pants. he groaned when your palm brushed over him through the fabric, hips twitching like he couldn’t help it. “fuck, baby,” he hissed, “you’re making it really hard to be gentle.”

“then don’t be.”

he let out this low, disbelieving laugh like you’d just told him the best secret in the world. tugging your skirt and panties down, he kissed his way along your hips and lower, dragging his mouth over your skin like he was savoring you already. “every part of you… perfect,” he whispered, eyes flicking up just once to see your chest rising, lips parted. “i wanna touch you everywhere.”

and he meant it. ​​his hands were warm and steady, spreading over your thighs, your waist, your stomach, exploring you like you were something rare. he took his time, like he’d waited too long to rush now, brushing his fingers gently along your inner thigh, coaxing goosebumps to rise under his touch. you were already shivering with anticipation when he kissed the inside of your knee, then higher, then higher again.

you whimpered, hips lifting involuntarily, and he kissed down your stomach slowly, lips dragging over your skin like a promise. his hands settled on your thighs, thumbs stroking gently over the soft skin there. then he paused, and his eyes flicked up to yours, darker now, but still so soft. 

“can i taste you?” he asked, voice quiet but low with need. “please, baby. i need it.” your breath caught. your fingers threaded through his hair almost instinctively as you nodded, thighs parting just a little in silent answer. “yeah?” he breathed, kissing the inside of your thigh. “you’ll let me take care of you?”

“yes,” you whispered, already trembling. “sunghoon, please.”

he groaned, like that was all he needed to hear. “thank you,” he murmured, kissing higher. “gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl.”

and then his mouth was on you, tongue sliding between your folds with that slow, deliberate stroke, and your whole body jolted under him.

“fuck—so sweet,” he groaned, his voice muffled against you. his fingers came up to part you gently, spreading you open so he could really taste you. “you’re unreal, baby. can you feel how wet you are for me?”

you gasped, back arching, one hand gripping the sheets while the other tangled in his hair like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. he groaned again when you tugged, clearly enjoying every reaction he pulled from you. he licked into you like he was starved for it, slow at first, methodical, dragging his tongue in long strokes and humming low when your thighs tensed around his shoulders. then, when he sucked your clit into his mouth, you cried out, hips bucking off the bed, and he held you down firmly, not letting up for a second.

“that’s it,” he said against you, his breath hot and his tone ragged. “so fucking good for me.”

you couldn’t even speak, just moaned and gasped, feeling your whole body coil tighter and tighter as he kept working you over with that perfect mouth. your thighs were trembling now, breath shaky, every nerve strung taut. he reached up, lacing your fingers with his, grounding you just as the pressure tipped over into something explosive. “come for me,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing. “let me have it.”

and you did. you shattered beneath him, shaking, your body clenching and curling in on itself as the orgasm crashed over you, white-hot and overwhelming. you called his name, half gasp, half cry, pulling at his hair with one hand and squeezing his hand tight with the other. your body stuttered, hips twitching, thighs clamped around his head, but he didn’t stop until your whimpers turned desperate, overstimulated and wrecked.

“okay,” you panted, tugging weakly at his shoulder. “okay—hoon—please…”

he finally pulled back, lips shiny, cheeks flushed, and eyes completely wild with awe. he looked like he’d just seen god, and maybe he had. you. unraveling for him, only for him. “you’re…” he started, voice rough as he crawled back up your body, kissing your stomach, your chest, your throat, your jaw. “you’re fucking perfect. i’ve never—never wanted someone like this.”

you cupped his face as he hovered over you, and he leaned into your touch instantly, forehead pressed to yours, his breathing still ragged, like he couldn’t believe any of this was real. “you don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispered, voice hoarse and low. “i’ve wanted this, wanted you, for so long.”

you kissed him again, slower this time, your fingers brushing through his hair, and he deepened it with a quiet groan, like he needed to taste you to keep himself grounded. when he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his eyes were wild and soft all at once, like he was overwhelmed by you. “feel that?” he murmured, pressing his hips down against yours. “you make me this fucking desperate, baby.”

you gasped when he rolled his hips again, perfectly slow, perfectly cruel. “can still taste you on my lips,” he said, kissing you once more. “i want you to taste it too.” the kiss this time was messier and you could feel yourself melting into it. he kissed you like he wanted you ruined, like he needed you wrecked and shaking and breathless. and you were close already, so close again from just that, from the way he said your name like a secret prayer.

“turn over for me,” he whispered suddenly, voice dipped in reverence. you did, your body trembling a little with anticipation as you shifted onto your stomach, heart racing. he traced your spine with his fingers, slow and deliberate, until both hands settled at your waist. “you’re unreal,” he whispered, and he meant it. “do you know that? the way you sound, the way you feel… i could lose my mind just looking at you.”

he leaned down then, mouth brushing the back of your shoulder, trailing kisses down your spine as his hands slid down, thumbs spreading gently over your hips like he was committing every inch of you to memory. “you drive me crazy,” he murmured. “every time you look at me, every time you laugh… fuck, i’m so gone for you.”

and when he kissed the back of your thigh, slow and lingering, you felt it everywhere, like heat blooming under your skin. “let me take my time with you,” he said, kissing his way back up. “wanna make you feel good. wanna make you remember this.”

you could only nod, breath caught in your throat, hands fisting the sheets beneath you. because sunghoon didn’t just want to touch you, he wanted to worship you. ​​his hands smoothed over your hips, firm but reverent, as he bent down, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine. “you’re shaking,” he murmured, voice laced with awe. “still so sensitive, aren’t you?” you nodded, cheek pressed to the sheets, body already reacting to the weight of his touch. “but you’re taking it so well,” he whispered, one hand sliding between your thighs, coaxing them apart again. “you’re such a good girl for me.”

you gasped when his fingers found you, already soaked, still fluttering from the last time. “look at this,” he groaned, dragging his fingers through the slick mess he left behind. “this pretty little pussy just begging for more.”

you whined, pressing back against his hand without even meaning to, and he chuckled low behind you. “you want it again?” he asked, voice almost gentle. “need me to make you feel good, baby?”

“yes,” you breathed. “please.”

that was all he needed. he leaned down again, kissing the swell of your ass before spreading you open with both hands. and then he dipped his head, tongue sliding between your folds. you cried out, hips jolting, the sudden pleasure overwhelming. he groaned, licking you from behind like he was starving for it. you buried your face into the mattress, fingers clawing at the sheets, the stretch of your body making every sensation sharper.

his hands gripped your thighs as his mouth worked you open all over again, licking and sucking with the kind of desperation that made your knees weak. and then his hand slid under you, fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit as his mouth stayed on you, wet and relentless. 

“that fucking pussy tastes so good,” he praised, voice breathless. “give it to me again. wanna feel you come on my tongue, baby.”

you were already spiraling, the pressure building fast and hot, your whole body wound so tight you could barely breathe. “fuck, sunghoon—i’m—”

and you did, again. shaking, crying out, your body going completely still before collapsing into tremors, overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth and the soft, dirty praise spilling from his lips. he didn’t stop until you were whimpering, twitching under him, begging him to stop, begging him to keep going, you couldn’t even tell anymore.

when he finally pulled back, panting, mouth glistening, he kissed your lower back and whispered: “you’re fucking perfect. i’m not done with you yet.”

he watches you as you turn over slowly, still catching your breath, your skin flushed and glowing, hair sticking to your forehead in messy strands. you’re a vision, wrecked and beautiful, lips swollen, eyes glassy, your chest rising and falling like you’ve just survived something holy. his gaze drags over you, slow, reverent, like he doesn’t know where to look first. like he wants to worship everything.

“fuck,” he breathes. “look at you…” you blink up at him, dazed and buzzing, legs still trembling from the last time he pulled you apart. his hands settle on your waist, grounding you. his thumb rubs soft circles into your skin like he’s easing you back into your body, not rushing, just feeling you.

“can i?” he asks, voice low and hoarse. there’s something almost shy in the way he says it, like he’s trying not to ruin the moment, like despite everything, he still needs to be sure you want this too.

you nod once, still breathless. “yeah,” you whisper. “please.”

his pupils darken, breath stuttering in his chest. the way you say please, oh, he could fall to his knees again just from that. he kisses you, slow at first, deep, aching, his tongue brushing yours like he’s trying to memorize your taste. and then it turns hungry, hands gripping your face like he can’t believe he gets to touch you, like he doesn’t want to come up for air. “you’re everything,” he murmurs against your lips, voice shaky. “i mean it—everything. i wanna make you feel so fucking good again.”

you let out the softest whimper, and that’s all he needs. he kisses down your jaw, your neck, between your breasts, leaves open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, taking his time. he’s not in a rush, he wants to savor you. his hand trails down, fingers brushing your inner thigh, and you part your legs for him instinctively. you’re still so sensitive, every little touch making you twitch, your hips lifting up to meet him. “this pretty pussy’s still so wet,” he groans, almost in disbelief. “you’re unreal, baby.”

his fingers slip between your folds again, dragging through the mess he made earlier, and you let out a gasp, hand flying to his wrist. “shh,” he soothes, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “i got you. just wanna make you feel good. let me take care of you, yeah?”

you nod, lips parted, already melting under his touch. he kisses you again, messy and hot, and then without warning he slides two fingers in deep, curling them just right. your mouth falls open in a silent cry, hips jerking. “that’s it,” he praises. “fuck, i love how you take me. your pussy is clinching around my fingers, baby.”

his fingers keep working you open, his mouth back on your neck, sucking dark marks into your skin like he wants to leave proof that he was here. and just when you think you’re going to fall apart again, he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “you’re mine, right?” he asks, voice like gravel. “please say it, baby”

“i’m yours,” you breathe, and it comes out shaky, desperate.

he groans like he’s losing his mind. “good girl.”

his body hovered over yours, warm and steady, and when your eyes met, something shifted, like the air grew heavier, thick with everything you both had been holding back. he kissed you like a thank you, like a silent prayer, like he couldn’t believe you were real and his all at once. then he leaned back on his knees, eyes locked on yours as he brought his hands down to the waistband of his jeans. he popped the button open with a quiet click, dragging the zipper down slow, teasing, but there was a kind of quiet urgency in his movements too, like he couldn’t wait another second to feel you again.

when he pushed his jeans and boxers down, your breath caught. he was big. thick and flushed and perfect, tip already leaking, heavy against his stomach. your mouth went dry, heat curling low in your belly as you stared, he was so pretty it almost hurt, like every inch of him was made to ruin you.

his eyes watched your face carefully, catching the shift in your expression. “yeah?” he rasped, cock twitching under your gaze. “you like what you see, baby?”

you nodded before you could think, heart hammering, thighs already pressing together. “you’re perfect,” you whispered, almost breathless.

his lips parted at that, something dark and tender flickering behind his eyes. he leaned in, hand wrapping around himself as he hovered over you again, dragging his tip through your slick folds, slow and deliberate, teasing your entrance. “fuck,” he murmured, voice ragged. “say you want me, please.”

“i want you,” you breathed, hips lifting. “hoon—i need you.”

he groaned like the sound of your voice broke something in him. and when he finally sank into you, slow, deliberate, like he wanted to feel every inch of you claiming him back, it stole the air from your lungs. he bottomed out with a shudder, forehead pressed against yours, hand cupping your jaw like he needed the grounding just as much as you did.

his tip presses in first, thick and hot, and even though your body is already soaked and aching for him, the stretch is still overwhelming. your walls flutter around him, trying to pull him deeper, but he takes his time. his hands grip your hips, grounding you as he inches in further, every slow push making your body arch and your breath catch. “fuck—baby,” he chokes, eyes fluttering shut as he feels the way you clench around him. “you feel so good… so tight. taking me so perfectly.”

you can barely hold still. your fingers grip his lower back, your mouth falls open, and a moan tears from your throat, raw, needy, helpless. he leans down, chest brushing yours, and presses soft kisses along your collarbone, whispering into your skin between every word like a prayer. “you’re unreal. unreal, baby. fuck—”

your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, pulling him in further, and he groans deep and guttural, like he’s losing control. the last inch pushes in slow, your bodies finally fully connected, the heat between you almost unbearable. you both go still for a second, breath mingling, your hearts racing in sync. your walls flutter around him again, adjusting, and his forehead drops to yours. “you okay?” he breathes, voice wrecked, like it’s taking everything in him not to move.

you nod, eyes glazed. “so full,” you whisper. “feels so good.”

he groans softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “yeah? i’m gonna take care of you, pretty girl. i promise.”

and when he finally starts to move slowly, with deep thrusts that drag against your most sensitive spots, you swear you see stars. his hips roll into yours with precision, his body fitting against you like he was built for this, for you. every stroke hits just right, every whispered praise against your cheek making you melt further into the mattress.

“you’re doing so good,” he pants. “taking me so well. your fucking pussy feels so fucking good around my cock, baby.”

you reached for him with shaking hands, fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him up to meet your mouth in a hungry kiss. he groaned when your tongue slid against his, his body still trembling from the last time you came undone under him. but this time, you weren’t just going to take. you wanted to give back, to feel him fall apart for you too.

“lay back, hoon,” you whispered against his lips, voice still wrecked and sweet. “let me ride you.”

his eyes widened slightly, dark and heavy with heat, but he nodded, eager, desperate, completely at your mercy. he sank into the pillows, breath stuttering when you straddled his hips and reached between your bodies to guide him in. you both gasped at the stretch, the slick slide of him filling you again. but now it was your rhythm, your pace. slow at first, grounding yourself on his chest as you rocked your hips forward, letting him feel all of you. his hands gripped your thighs, mouth open in a silent moan as he looked up at you like he was watching something holy.

“fuck, baby,” he breathed. “you feel—jesus, you feel perfect.”

you rolled your hips again, a little faster, loving the way his voice cracked, the way his fingers dug deeper into your skin. his head fell back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut, and you leaned down to kiss along his throat, his collarbone, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. “look at me, hoon,” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “wanna see your face when you fall apart.”

he did, eyes locking with yours, glassy and wild and reverent all at once. “keep going,” he begged, barely coherent. “just like that. you’re so good. keep riding me, baby. i’m not gonna last.”

you smiled, breathless, sweat-slicked skin sticking to his as you kept moving, kept grinding, kept giving him everything. and when his hips bucked up and he cried out your name like it was the only word he remembered, you knew you had him, ruined and wrecked and completely yours. “please, baby, i need,” he begged, barely coherent. “let me cum inside you, fuck— i need to fill you up, princess.”

you smiled and nodded, breathless, sweat-slicked skin sticking to his as you kept moving, grinding down on him with a rhythm that had both of you teetering on the edge. his hands roamed your body like he couldn’t get enough, gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing over your ribs. like he needed to memorize you. “fuck, look at you,” he groaned, eyes locked on where your bodies met. “riding me so good. taking me so deep. this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

you nodded, dazed, moaning as you bounced harder, chasing the high that was coiling tight in your belly again. and he didn’t stop talking, not for a second. “you feel that, baby? how tight you are around me? fuck, i’m losing it,” he breathed, voice rough and reverent. “you’re gonna make me cum inside you, such a good girl, fuck!”

you leaned down, kissed him hard, swallowing the broken sounds spilling from his mouth. he kissed you back like he needed it to breathe, tongue desperate, hands sliding up to cup your face. you were already there, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, body shaking from how deep he was hitting, how full he made you feel. and when you clenched around him again, when your orgasm hit with dizzying force, he lost it with you, hips stuttering, hands gripping your ass as he came with a strangled moan, burying his face in your neck while he filled you up.

you held each other, trembling, hearts racing. you were still catching your breath, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat, when he slid out of you, slow and careful, like he didn’t want to let you go just yet. you barely had time to whimper at the sudden emptiness before he was shifting, lying back against the pillows with a look in his eyes that made your stomach flip.

“come here,” he murmured, voice hoarse, one hand trailing down your spine. you blinked at him, legs weak, but then he grinned, lazy and wicked, and pulled you up gently by the hips. “wanna taste you like this,” he said, guiding you forward until your thighs were straddling his face. “wanna feel the mess you made all over me.”

your breath caught. “sunghoon—”

“shh,” he whispered, eyes dark and blown wide. “you’ve been so good for me. let me be good for you now.”

he didn’t wait for permission this time. his hands gripped your thighs and pulled you down onto his mouth like he’d been starving for it. his tongue was filthy, flat and firm and everywhere, licking you clean, then messy again, kissing and sucking and moaning against your skin like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

you cried out, hips rolling without thought, thighs trembling around his head. and he took it, wanted it, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held you steady. “fuck—sunghoon,” you gasped, one hand in his hair, the other braced on the headboard.

he groaned into you, the sound vibrating through your core. “that’s it, baby. ride my face. come on—fuckin’ use me.” 

your thighs shook harder with every swipe of his tongue, every slick, obscene noise echoing in the room, and when he closed his mouth around your clit and sucked just right, your whole body went rigid. and when he pressed his nose around your clit and held your hips and made you grind around his face, oh god, you lost it. “that’s it,” he murmured, breathless and soaked, licking you through it. “come all over my face, baby. let me feel you fall apart again.”

and you did again. and again. until your body gave out, and you collapsed into him, trembling, boneless, his arms around your waist, kissing your thighs like they were sacred.

“you’re unreal,” he whispered, voice thick with awe. “how the fuck did i get so lucky?”

his grip softened as he felt you tremble above him, and when you finally started to come down, your thighs still quivering around his face, he slowed. but his mouth didn’t stop. he kept kissing you with soft, kitten licks, gentle, rhythmic, like he was savoring every last drop of you. little hums vibrated against your skin as he pressed sweet, worshipful kisses between your folds, almost lazy now, like he was calming you down with his tongue.

you gasped softly, too sensitive, your hips twitching with every warm, delicate lick. “can’t get enough of you,” he whispered against your heat, nuzzling between your thighs. “you taste like heaven, baby.”

he let go of your waist just enough to guide you off him, helping you lie down on the mattress with shaky limbs. and then, slow, almost reverent, he climbed over you. he kissed your inner thighs first, lips soft and warm and open. then the swell of your hips, your stomach, your ribs. each kiss was slow and full of something deeper, like he was memorizing you now, not just your body but you, soaking in every inch.

“my pretty girl,” he murmured against your skin. “my favorite thing in the world.”

his mouth reached your chest, kissing over your heart, then up the column of your throat, slow and smiling. by the time he reached your lips again, your eyes were already fluttering shut, your body humming with warmth. he kissed you sweetly, lovingly. no rush. just the kind of kiss that said you’re mine, i’ve got you, i’m still here. and when you sighed into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair again, he whispered, “i want to make you so happy.”

you were both lying there, still breathing a little unevenly, not quite ready to move. the room was warm in that quiet, post-everything way. your leg was draped over his without thinking, one of his hands resting on your stomach, steady now, grounding. the other hovered in the space between your ribs and your hip, like he wanted to touch more of you but didn’t want to push anything too far than he already did. 

and sunghoon wasn’t staring on purpose, he just couldn’t stop looking at you. your hair was messy. your skin was warm. you had that look on your face like you were pretending to be calm but weren’t. and he couldn’t stop replaying the last hour in his head, not even the specifics, just the fact that it happened. it happened, you happened, with him.

you wanted him. he couldn’t believe it. because this wasn’t some almost. this wasn’t a flirty text or a maybe-lingered hug or a “did that mean something?” moment. this was real, it happened. you were here in his arms. naked. smiling. breathing slow. and the truth was — it was the best thing that had happened to him in a long, long time.

not just the sex. that was insane, amazing. unfair, honestly. but it was more than that. it was how close you let him be. it was the way you looked at him like he wasn’t just some guy. like you’d been waiting for him just as much as he’d been waiting for you. and he was trying to memorize it all. the heat of your skin under his hand. the curve of your smile when you caught him staring. the weight of your leg over his, like you weren’t planning to go anywhere.

you turned your head toward him, cheek pressed into the pillow, eyes still lazy and soft. “you’re staring.”

he blinked. “no i’m not.”

“you literally are.”

he swallowed, trying not to smile. “okay. yeah. but respectfully.”

you raised an eyebrow. “what does that even mean?”

“means i’m just... taking it all in,” he said, quieter now. “i don’t know. trying to make sure this wasn’t a dream or something.”

you didn’t laugh at that. you didn’t roll your eyes or change the subject. you just looked at him, and he looked at you, and for once, he didn’t say anything else. because for the first time in a long time, everything he wanted was already here. and he wasn’t gonna miss a single second of it.

so he shrugged, face somehow more relaxed than you’d ever seen it. “just means i’m admiring you without being weird about it.”

“you just called me your favorite thing in the world like five minutes ago.”

“and i meant it,” he said, no hesitation. “top tier. no notes.”

you smiled, then looked up at the ceiling. “this is weird.”

sunghoon blinked. “like... weird in a good way or weird like we should never do this again and i should move to another country?”

“no, dumbass.” you laughed. “like weird that this actually happened,” you said. “we’ve been circling each other forever and now we’ve crossed into, like, very naked territory.”

he turned onto his side to look at you properly, propping himself up on one elbow. “you say that like i wasn’t already fully in love with you the second you stole my last fry that one night.”

you laughed, soft and tired, and scooted closer. “you’re such a dumbass.”

“i contain multitudes,” he said, smiling.

you leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, just because it was there. just because you could now. after a few quiet seconds, he added, “i also might’ve... rehearsed stuff. in my head. like this. this whole night. not, like, in a creepy way. just. i thought about it a lot.”

“how much is ‘a lot’?”

“you don’t wanna know.”

you looked at him, eyes narrowing. “sunghoon.”

“like... entire imaginary scenarios,” he said, face slightly red now, voice muffled as he dropped back onto the pillow. “dialogue included. you said very flattering things in my head, by the way.” you started laughing, trying to muffle it into his shoulder, and he groaned. “this is the worst post-sex confession in history.”

“no, this is peak you,” you said. “romantic and slightly unhinged.”

“you make me unhinged,” he muttered, then covered his face with one hand. “i’m never speaking again.”

you reached over, peeled his hand away, and kissed his cheek. “don’t worry. you already said everything right.” he went quiet after that, just looking at you again, softer now. less flirty. more like he couldn’t believe you were real. you held the look for a second, then nudged him again. “also, i still can’t believe your pokémon username is shadyhoon420.”

“why would you bring that up now,” he whispered, betrayed.

“because you just made me see god and now i’m ready enough to bully you again.”

he groaned again, dragging the blanket up over his face. you laughed and curled into his side anyway, and even though he was pretending to be dramatic, his arm pulled you in without hesitation. and that was how you stayed. warm, tangled, slightly wrecked, and fully, unapologetically into each other.

the week after was weird. not in a bad way, just different. like, sunghoon hadn’t really planned what came after sleeping with you. his brain had mostly stopped at oh my god it’s happening, and never got around to figuring out what do i do now that it did. turns out: what he did was text you every morning like he hadn’t just seen you eight hours ago. send you playlists like he hadn’t already made three for you. randomly show up with coffee and snacks like he wasn’t trying to see you again that night anyway.

he was down bad. and he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.

he came over two days later with your favorite ice cream. not because you asked, not even because you hinted. just because he passed a convenience store and thought, she likes that one with the caramel stuff, i should get that. you answered the door in pajama shorts and one sock, took the ice cream, kissed his cheek, and said “you’re so obsessed with me” like it was a joke, but he just said “yeah” and followed you inside like it was true. because it was.

he slept over again that night. and the night after that. and the one after that. and by monday, all his stuff was still technically at his place, but his phone charger, his cologne, and three pairs of socks had somehow migrated to your apartment. you made fun of him for the socks, and he said it was “for emergency purposes,” which didn’t even make sense, but you let it slide.

you, on the other hand, got more chaotic just in a very you way. you started kissing him in the middle of sentences. reaching under his hoodie in the middle of a movie. you’d say stuff like “should we go to bed?” with your hand already halfway down his back, and when he asked “to sleep?” you’d just grin and walk off like you’ll see.

you also started calling him ridiculous things in front of other people. “my man,” “baby,” “loverboy.” jay almost choked on his drink when you casually said “sunghoonie, pass me that” in the middle of a group hang. sunghoon blinked three times in a row and handed you the drink without speaking.

you were reckless with it. you sat in his lap at his apartment like it was a chair. held his hand in public. bit his earlobe once while he was trying to explain something about pokémon raids and ruined his entire train of thought. he was spiraling, but, like, happily.

he said “i like you” at least twice a day, sometimes for no reason. he told you your hair looked nice even when it didn’t. he got quieter whenever you wore his clothes but didn’t take them back. once, when you said “you’re kinda clingy now, huh,” he just said “yeah. sorry. can’t stop.”

you didn’t mind. you teased him constantly but kissed him just as much. called him ridiculous but curled into him every night. and when he said “i think i like this version of us,” you said “me too,” and kissed the corner of his mouth like you planned to stay that close for a while. maybe longer.

sunghoon had been thinking about asking you to be his proper girlfriend for, like, a week and a half. well, technically longer. emotionally since day one. but officially? yeah, one and a half weeks of pure, uninterrupted chaos in his brain. the problem wasn’t that he didn’t want to ask you. the problem was that he wanted it too much. he wanted to do it right. he wanted it to be special, but not cringe. romantic, but not too much. surprising, but not out of nowhere. he didn’t want to scare you. but he also didn’t want you to think he was casual about this. he wasn’t. he was emotionally unwell about it, actually.

so, naturally, he did the worst possible thing: he asked jay for advice.

they were at their place, sitting on the floor, jay had just beaten him at mario kart for the third time and was in his usual post-victory smug mode when sunghoon blurted out, “do you think now’s too soon to ask her to be my girlfriend?”

jay blinked. “you literally sleep over at her place more than your own.”

“i know, but, like... we haven’t said anything. there’s been no official label. it’s like... unofficially official.”

jay stared. “sunghoon. you watched her floss her teeth while you sat on the counter eating cereal and telling her she looked cute. it’s not unofficial.”

“yeah, but what if she thinks it’s too soon?”

“too soon for what? be so fucking for real, bro.”

sunghoon groaned and flopped backwards onto the floor. “i can’t just casually be like ‘hey do you wanna be my girlfriend’ while we’re ordering chicken nuggets or something.”

“why not?”

“because this is the most important relationship of my life and i want it to sound like i’m not twelve.”

jay, full of support and zero delicacy, said, “then don’t say it while you’re ordering chicken nuggets.”

sunghoon glared at the ceiling. “useless.”

still, he spent the next few days trying to figure it out. he made a mental list of possible locations. cafes were too noisy. your apartment was too... your apartment. the bar had too many witnesses. he considered writing it down. he considered saying it in a whisper and pretending it slipped out. he considered doing nothing and just dying instead.

then it happened on a wednesday. you were walking out of a little local bookstore you dragged him into, laughing at something he said, your hand linked with his like it belonged there. the woman behind the counter, older, smiley, had said, “you two are cute. your boyfriend’s so patient.”

you laughed, still flipping through the book you bought. “i know, right?”

you didn’t correct her. you did not correct her. sunghoon short-circuited for a solid five seconds. he tried to keep walking like a normal person, but his grip on your hand got a little tighter, and his brain was already in full meltdown mode.

boyfriend. she said boyfriend. and you didn’t say oh no, we’re not dating, or oh, we’re just hanging out, or he just follows me around like a sad dog. you agreed, you claimed him. it counts. it totally counts.

he waited a whole five minutes before blurting out, “so. about that boyfriend comment.”

you glanced up. “what about it?”

“you didn’t, like... correct her.”

you tilted your head. “should i have?”

he blinked. “i mean... no. no, not if you didn’t want to.”

“i didn’t,” you said simply.

sunghoon’s brain made a sound like dial-up internet for a second. he swallowed. “cool. yeah. just checking.”

you stopped walking and looked at him. “wait. is that— were you trying to ask me something just now?”

“what? no.” he paused. “yes. maybe.”

you smiled. “sunghoon.”

“okay, yes. yes,” he said, running a hand through his hair and suddenly regretting everything he’d ever said to jay. “i’ve been trying to ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend for, like, ten business days. but i kept spiraling. and then you didn’t correct that lady and i had a full-body reaction.”

you laughed, leaning into him slightly. “you could’ve just asked me.”

“i know, but i like you so much that my brain stopped working and i didn’t want to mess it up.”

“you think calling me your ‘favorite thing in the world’ before asking me to date you wasn’t already kind of intense?”

“i blacked out that night. i don’t remember saying that.”

“you did.”

“okay. good. just making sure i’m consistent.”

you leaned in and kissed his cheek, still smiling. “sunghoon, obviously i want to be your girlfriend.”

he blinked. “really?”

“yes.”

he hesitated, eyes narrowing like he’d just remembered something haunting. “even after finding out that i was your sworn enemy on pokémon go for, like, four months?”

you started laughing immediately. “you mean when you admitted you were shadyhoon420, the gremlin who stole my gym every tuesday at 3 a.m.?”

“i was fighting for my honor,” he said, dead serious.

you grinned. “and now we’re dating. weird plot twist.”

he smiled, a little crooked. “great plot twist.”

you squeezed his hand again, leaned your head on his shoulder as you walked, and said, “don’t worry, boyfriend. i forgive your crimes.”

sunghoon was never recovering from being called “boyfriend” out loud. he almost tripped on the sidewalk. he grinned, slightly dazed, like someone who just won the lottery but doesn’t know where to cash it in. you grabbed his hand again and kept walking, like it was already decided. and honestly, it kind of was.

you ended up at his place that night. neither of you really said it out loud, but that was kind of the routine now. he still pretended he needed to “grab something” from his apartment just to have an excuse to follow you around his kitchen while you made popcorn. you still pretended to ask if you were staying over when you both knew your toothbrush had lived there for two weeks. he let you steal his hoodie again. you let him kiss you every time he walked past you, which was often, because he kept “forgetting things” in the living room. at some point you both crashed on the couch with your legs over his and his head resting against yours, some episode of how i met your mother playing in the background.

he was barely listening. you weren’t either. it was just there, familiar and comfortable. then, somewhere between the episode where ted steals the blue french horn and barney pretending to have a fake job at a bank, you turned to him and said, “you know what the best part of this is?”

“the popcorn?”

“okay, second best.”

“me?”

“third best.”

he laughed, nudged your knee with his. “okay, what’s the best part?”

you turned to face him fully, your chin resting on your hand now, your expression weirdly serious but also like you were holding back a laugh. “one day,” you said, “i’m gonna tell our kids this whole story. the gyms. the snacks. the pokémon betrayal. all of it.”

he blinked. “kids?”

“future,” you added quickly. “far future. relax. no one’s getting pregnant during a rerun of season three.”

“okay. just making sure.”

you grinned. “and when i tell them, i’m gonna look them in the eyes and say: and that, kids, is how i met sunghoon.”

he stared at you, then he burst out laughing, then he kissed you. and when he pulled back, smiling like he couldn’t help it, hoodie half falling off your shoulder, popcorn completely forgotten on the floor, he said, “you’re so annoying.”

you leaned into his side. “you’re obsessed with me.”

he kissed your forehead. “yeah,” he said. “i really, really am.”

and that was that. no big speech. no sweeping declarations. no fireworks or dramatic music or anything you’d write into a script. just two slightly ridiculous people, curled up on a too-small couch, limbs tangled in the kind of way that only happens when you’ve stopped pretending to need personal space, one of them wearing a hoodie that never belonged to them in the first place, both of them halfway through a rewatch of a sitcom about love and fate and timing, while very quietly, and maybe without fully realizing it, living proof of all those things was sitting right there beside them.

and that, kids… is how you met sunghoon.

author’s note: okayyyyy i wrote this as a little gift for my best friend aka my sister, and it’s actually the first time i’ve written for sunghoon since nicest guy (which feels kinda wild) andddd i’ve always loved how i met your mother!!! my fav show everrrr nd i wanted to write something that felt like that yk just full of funny warm happy momentssssss nothing too heavy, just soft and slow-burn feelings hehe i hope you enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it ♡

my masterlist // perma taglist: @rairaiblog @nqdirr @iyoonjh @saeris-world @jayparked @solonenova @izzyy-stuff

© all rights reserved @/heejamas — do not repost, copy, translate, or modify my works without explicit permission. these are works of fiction and are not meant to represent real-life actions, thoughts, or personalities of any public figures

[kikidoul]

CUM 'TIL YOU CRY.

IN WHICH. . . Your beloved puma hybrid: Nishimura Riki, has reached his limits of restraining himself. Under the influence of his heat combined with his pent-up feelings for you, he decides the best way to let you know was by showing than saying it out loud.

5.7k wc⠀‎❀⠀non idol & university au ♪♪ puma hybrid! nishimura riki x fem! reader 𐧘 explicit mature content, porn without plot, unprotected sex, knotting, breeding kink, jealous riki, riki has a tail & claws, feral & possessive riki, fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), pussy slapping, breast play, coming untouched, face-sitting, mild choking, size difference, hung riki, mean! riki.

perm taglist [always open]: @lolliloopsy, @kristynaaah, @lac4ygal, @sacrificemuraa, @hoonguin, @enhaxlhs, @ryulshot4sho, @yangvitta, @pleasantheartsworld, @cherryw0n.

from author: i love puma riki. that's it. that's the plot.

Riki has been acting weird recently.

The puma hybrid is more clingy than usual—which wasn't anything new at first glance. Ever since he came into your life, the hybrid with the height of six foot something, toned arms, impressive abs that's hidden under the layers of his clothes with tattoos—one on near his hipbones, one on his side and the last on his back, Riki will be on you the moment you came back.

He didn't care if you haven't removed your shoes or dropped the keys. Riki wastes no time in pulling you into his arms, head buried in your neck with him nuzzling his nose against your skin. He ignored your futile, weak attempts of prying him off, his body practically melting once he inhaled your scent, like it's an antidote for his illness.

His illness of being separated from you for way too long.

But now? Now his clinginess only got even worse. If you were smarter, you would've been able to connect the dots—how your beloved puma hybrid kept following you around, his long, black tail swishing side to side ever since you told him you got a boyfriend. You've been dating for the past five months and he's everything you wanted—loyal, kind, faithful, funny, understanding and the list goes on.

When you broke the news to Riki, you were too deep in love, already rambling about your oh so perfect relationship to notice how he stilled. How his tail dipped immediately. How his ears flattened against his head. How his jaw clenched, tongue poking the insides of his cheek. How his eyes narrowed into silts. How he clenched his left hand into a fist that rested on his lap, hidden from your view.

Ever since that day—five months ago, Riki made it a point to cling onto you at every chance he gets. He doesn't care if you're in public. The moment you're in his sight, he has his tail wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him while subtly scenting you at the same time. As he's tall enough, it's enough to scare off anyone who's foolish enough to look your way. If that doesn't worked, he'll resort to glaring at them, which proved to be useful many, many times.

Right now, you're seated on the couch in the living room with your laptop perched on a cushion, using it as a temporary stand. Your fingers flew across the keyboard, lips unconsciously pursed in a thin line while working on your assignments. Being a university student meant you're constantly bombarded with never-ending assignments—essays, group projects, reports, tests and exams.

It got so bad to the point you haven't contacted your boyfriend for the past two weeks. You felt remorseful at first, not wanting any misunderstandings to be formed. But when your lecturers thought it was a great idea for them to throw an unreasonable amount of work to their students, the thought was washed down the drain as you threw yourself into study mode, working on them nonstop.

You were so engrossed with your current task that you remained blissfully unaware of your surroundings. Of how a certain puma hybrid was heading your way, his footsteps light and barely making any noise, like he's stalking his next prey. You finally looked down, features softening to see it's none other than Riki resting his head on your lap, eyes fixated on your face.

You reached down, brushing his dirty ash blonde hair away from his forehead, drawing a soft, pleased sigh from him. Your heart squeezed, getting a rush of cuteness aggression when he turned, rubbing his cheek against your stomach through your shirt. You knew what he wants and also knew if anything, he's extremely shy when it comes to demanding for your attention.

You being you, decides to tease him.

"Riki, do you need something?" You asked, hovering your hand in the air.

The hybrid stopped rubbing his cheek, cracking one eye open to glare at you, his thick and plump lips curling down in a pout. "You know what I want."

You hummed, plastering a fake thoughtful look on your face, well-aware of how he's watching you. "Do I? I'm not a mind reader. If you want something, you need to tell me."

Your words drew a frustrated and annoyed growl from him but you weren't fazed or afraid. You merely chuckled, wriggling your fingers in the air. "I'm waitinggggg."

He closed his eyes, seemingly sending prayers to whoever's listening before opening them. "…Can you pat me, please?"

You cooed out loud and Riki scrunched his nose, sending you death glares at the revolting noise. "You're so cute! If that's what my precious baby puma wants."

He was about to get up when you started patting his head, occasionally flicking his ears. The moment you laid your hands on him, his shoulders sagged with relief and his eyes fluttered shut. He made himself comfortable, face squashed into your stomach with his arms loosely wrapped around your waist, locking you in place while you returned to working on your assignment.

Thirty minutes of comfortable silence past and your phone started ringing, vibrating vigorously from its spot on the couch's armrest. You didn't want to wake Riki up—who had been lulled to sleep by your comforting scent and warmth, subtly stretching your arm to pick up your phone. One look at the screen made your heart dropped when you saw the contact name.

You accepted the call, bringing your phone to your right ear.

"Hello?"

"(Name), let's break up," your boyfriend said, his tone steady and firm.

Your heart stopped beating, shattering into pieces the moment you heard his words. You felt cold, like someone had dumped a pail of cold, freezing water over you. You stared ahead of you—wide eyes and tuning out your surroundings, until the only thing you can hear was the blood rushing through your ears.

"W-What? Why?" You stammered, unaware of Riki stirring to life, his ears perking up, clearly trying to eavesdrop.

A sigh. "It's no hard feelings, really. I just don't feel the same way anymore. And you've been busy lately. You didn't answer my texts or my calls. It's like you've forgotten about my existence."

"That's not—"

"And that hybrid of yours. It's clear there's something going on between the two of you, with how possessive he is," he interrupted, having no intention of hearing you out or letting you speak.

Hearing this, you stilled. Your fingers that were previously threading through Riki's hair came to an abrupt halt. Your eyes instinctively flicked down to him, breath hitching when you made eye contact and how he has been watching and listening the entire time. His eyes were now narrowed to silts. He doesn't care that he was caught red-handed, showing no ounce of remorse or shame.

But rather, he looked… smug, like he knew this will happen.

Your lack of response earned a bitter huff from your boyfriend—or ex-boyfriend, in this case. "See? This is what I meant. Forget it, there's no point trying to talk to you. We're over. Don't contact me again."

"Wait—"

He ended the call and you moved it away, staring at it like it had personally offended you. Riki took that as his cue to push himself up, stretching his arms above his head. The action made the gray hoodie he worn to be dragged up, showing off an inch of his skin and the kiss mark tattoo he got. Your eyes darted towards it without warning, only for you to look away immediately ignoring how your heart skipped a beat and heat pooling in your stomach.

"Who was that?" He asked casually and innocently, running a hand through his hair.

"My boyfriend," you chuckled, placing your phone on your side, "well, ex-boyfriend."

He frowned. "Ex?"

"Yeah, he just broke up with me, over the phone."

Riki sucked in air from his teeth, his tail neatly resting over his lap. "Oh… I'm sorry to hear that."

You shook your head, sinking further into the couch. "It's fine, I kinda deserve it."

"Why? You didn't do anything wrong," he replied without missing a beat.

You glanced at him, startled by how fast and firm his response was. "Because I might have forgotten to contact him? I didn't make any efforts to call or text him."

"And? You're busy with your assignments. You don't have to bend your back for someone who's insecure," he retorted, draping an arm across the back of his couch, his hand directly behind your head.

You snorted. "He's not insecure, Riki. Don't be mean to him."

For a brief moment, the hybrid seemed like he wanted to say something but thought better of it, choosing to keep his mouth shut. He got up from the couch, the tip of his tail grazing your bare ankle—deliberately and lightly before he walked away. You remained seated on the couch, watching as he disappeared into the comfort of his own room, closing the door behind him.

What was that?

~

You noticed a slight change in Riki two weeks later.

The hybrid started spending more time in his room, only coming out when it's absolutely necessary. Heck, he didn't step out even when you announced you were leaving for your classes, leaving you utterly confused. You did knock on his door, asking him questions about his health but all you got was him telling you to go away.

If there's one thing about you, it's that you never give up.

Knock knock.

"Riki? Hello? Are you still alive?" You asked, pressing your ear against the door, trying to catch the smallest sounds.

That's when you heard it—a low, slow and warning growl. Hearing it sent shivers down your spine and you rubbed your thighs together, feeling the all-too familiar sensation of arousal blooming in your stomach.

"Go away."

The two words were said with such conviction and coldness that it rendered you speechless. Never in your life have you heard Riki growling at you, like the true puma he is. You should listen to him. Should turned around, walked away to leave him alone. Ignoring the invisible alarm bells going off in your mind, you took a deep breath, twisted the door knob and pushed it open.

The door moved aside to reveal Riki's room. The curtains were drawn closed, shutting him out from the rest of the world. Your eyes locked in on the bump on his bed. A bump that you easily identified as the owner of the room. You stepped in, wary to not step on anything that could potentially scared him or set him into fight-or-flight mode.

Once you were close enough, you sat on the edge of the bed, turning slightly so you can face him without straining your neck. You reached out, ready to pull the sheets away when he moved.

One moment you were seated and the next, you were pinned against the bed. You gasped, startled by the abrupt change of position. Both of your wrists was held over your head, held down firmly with Riki's one hand while the other was braced on the wrinkled sheets. The sight before you made your breath hitched.

Riki's face was flushed, cheeks covered in a light shade of red. His eyes turned into slits, borderline glowing and his forehead glowed in a layer of sweat, hair sticking to his face. His lips were parted, exhaling at an unsteady pace, like he had ran a marathon. This wasn't the usual Riki you're used to. Someone who always keep his cool. Someone who noticed everything about you.

"Riki, wha—!?"

You stopped when he ducked, nosing along your neck and he breathed in, deeply. You strained your ears, picking up what sounded like… purring? You felt the vibrations coursing through his body and his sharp, fluffy ears twitched.

"Your scent… it's driving me crazy," he rasped out, voice low and deep.

You swallowed, your heart hammering against your chest rapidly. "Seriously, what's wr—mmpfh!"

You didn't finish your sentence, not because your voice gave up on you. But rather, it was because of the hybrid, who captured your lips in a hot, demanding and intense kiss. Unlike your ex who takes his time, Riki was different. He kissed you harshly, further pushing you into the sheets with him fully settling his weight on you, like he wants you to blend into it.

You squeaked when he nipped at the plush, soft flesh of your lips with the sharp tip of his fangs, the searing pain striking you like a lightning bolt. He released his grip on your wrists, supporting your head with one hand on your neck while the other gripped onto your waist, his touch possessive and firm.

You could feel the warmth from his body, how he's a walking heater. The closeness of this combined with him kissing you with such desperation made you whined into his mouth. Riki groaned, swallowing the delicious sound, treating it like it's an sacred offering. The kiss deepened—him forcing you to grant him entrance and he sucked on your tongue, hard enough to make you pushed your chest up against his.

It's filthy and lewd, with spit trickling down your chin. Seeing this, Riki broke the kiss and licked it up with his rough tongue, leaving your skin feeling damp and sticky before he kissed you again, unable to get enough of your sweet, addictive taste.

"Riki—"

You moaned against his lips, arching your back off the bed as his other hand traced your silhouette, creating a map out of your body. He pushed your oversized shirt up until the hem of your bra was shown, drawing a ragged, broken moan from him, like seeing your clear, unblemished skin does something to him.

He pulled back, staring at you as he takes in the mind-blowing sight before him—your dazed eyes, your swollen, bruised and spit-covered lips and the light flush on your cheeks. Seeing you like this—all wrecked and breathless, drew a dark and pleased purr from the depth of his throat.

"So pretty for me," he breathed out, his breath fanning across your lips, savoring the way you shivered involuntarily at his words.

Riki moved down, busying himself in leaving wet and messy kisses along the expanse of your neck, ensuring to lick at your skin, able to get a faint salty taste at the tip of his tongue. He slowly lowered himself, spreading your legs apart with one hand—the action effortless and requiring close to zero strength, aligning your cores together and oh, you can feel him.

Feel his long, thick and heavy cock straining against the poor restraints of his sweatpants, begging to be freed. You swallowed, feeling your underwear sticking against your pussy at the thought of him filling you up. Riki stilled above you, his nostrils flaring before he growled, staring you down with nothing but desire written all over his face.

A loud ripping sound pierced through the bedroom. You squeaked, hands moving to cover yourself when the puma hybrid ripped your clothes with his sharp claws but he was faster, pinning your hands above your head with one hand while the other gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Don't hide from me," he snarled.

You made a pathetic sound—a sound you didn't know you were capable of in the first place and it made the puma smirked proudly. When it's clear you're not planning to move, Riki shifted down, giving attention to your freed breasts. He wrapped his lips around your left hardened nipple, alternating between licking and sucking on it while pinching and twisting the other nipple with his free hand.

"Ngh!"

You cried out, throwing your head back as you tangled your hand through his hair while the other blindly grabbed the sheets, twisting and turning it beneath your fingers. You squirmed about on the bed, which pissed Riki off, judging from the feral snarl he let out as he held you down by your hips, his grip hard and vice-like with his claws borderline digging into your skin, hard enough for thin, red-lined marks to be imprinted.

He continued abusing your poor nipples until they were bruised red and covered in a layer of his thick spit, leaving it glistened in the dim room. Riki shifted further down until he dropped to his knees on the floor. You yelped when you were roughly yanked forward by his tail until your lower half hovered in the air. Your legs trembled as they were slung over the hybrid's firm, broad shoulders.

"Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you," he murmured, nosing along your inner right thigh, occasionally nipping at your skin until it turned reddish-purple.

The possessiveness in him gleamed in pride at the thought of you walking around, wearing pants or anything long to hide the marks he left behind on your body, like he's claiming, marking and branding you. Keeping you away from any potential suitors too. Riki continued his adventure until he reached where you're desperately aching for him. He blew hot air, watching with pure hunger at how your pussy throbbed.

"Sensitive already," he huffed, amused.

"P-Please.." You whimpered oh so beautifully for him, further twisting the sheets.

"Please what, doll? C'mon, be a good girl and use your words," he coaxed.

You squeezed your eyes shut, not having the courage to look at him but your action only made him clicked his tongue in disapproval.

Smack!

Your body visibly jolted, taken aback at the sudden stinging pain landing squarely on your bare pussy. Interest flickered across his face at your reaction—how you bit down on your lip and how you got even wetter. Deciding to put his theory to the test, he did it again. Not once. Not twice. But thrice, back-to-back.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Your body trembled like a taut wire, clenching down on nothing as violent shockwaves traversed through you from head to toe. Riki, on the other hand, paused. His mind spun, reeling from what just happened. He didn't give you time to regain your composure, dragging his left index finger along your puffy, soaked folds, making you whimpered from the sensitivity.

"Fuck, you came just like that?" He murmured, in awe.

"W-Wha.."

You mumbled blearily, looking at him with half-lidded eyes, already exhausted. The only form of warning you got was the puma hybrid inching closer until something rough, hot and flat licked a stripe up, from your clit to entrance. You screamed, the sound high and loud that you're certain your neighbors will launch a noise complaint soon.

The thought left your mind as quickly as it formed when Riki moaned, his face buried between your legs. He ate you out messily and sloppily, paying special attention to your clit peeking out. Your body twitched, nearly yanking the sheets freed when he circled it with the tip of his tongue, the sensation driving you up the wall.

Your legs trembled in the air but you couldn't closed them, not when they were hoisted on his strong, muscular shoulders. You hooked your ankles around his neck, tugging him closer and let out a wonton moan when the tip of his nose pokes your clit. He didn't care, pushing further and further in, like he wants to be suffocated between your legs, tasting your sweet, addictive slick on his tongue.

"F-Fuck, so—hngh, good," you panted, back arching off the bed as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking on it. The suction was enough for your stomach to tighten, about to cum again, only for him to pull away, letting your clit fall limp against your pussy, all sore and red.

You watched with your head laying on the sheets, chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath as Riki rose to his full height, gently dropping your legs down onto the solid floor. He didn't look away, locking eyes with you while he stripped, starting with the white, tight tank top that does nothing to hide his arm muscles. Once it was gone, his toned and tattooed chest was revealed. Your hands twitched, tempted to trace your hand over it.

He smirked, catching your reaction and hooked his fingers through the hem of his sweatpants that's hanging dangerously low around his hips. He shoved it down, his black Chrome Heart boxers falling as well until its brunched around his ankles. His cock sprung free from the restraints, proudly standing upright, thick, long and veiny.

Your breath stuttered, unable to tear your eyes away from it. Hybrids isn't built very different from humans but despite that, he's… huge. Probably bigger than anyone you've slept with, which was just one person—your ex-boyfriend. The fat, mushroomy tip had turned a ferocious shade of reddish-purple, practically screaming for attention. A fat, thick bead of precum rested on the slit and Riki wrapped a hand around himself, thumb pressing down on the slit.

"Fuck…"

He cursed, eyes fluttering shut and he threw his head back as he fisted his own cock, forming a tight circle with his hand, fucking into it without any shame. You watched from where you were—still laying on the sheets with wide, unblinking eyes. Riki's fangs dug into his plump lips, his slitted eyes were squeezed shut, ears flattened against his head and his tail swished side to side frantically.

You chewed on your bottom lip, snaking your hand down between your breasts, down your stomach and to your pussy. However, before you could reached your destination, Riki let out a feral, hostile and beast-like snarl. He surged forward, grabbing your wrist, holding it in place with a vice-like grip, tight enough to draw a wince from you.

"Don't touch yourself. If you do, you can't cum," he warned you.

His firm words and authoritative tone made you whimpered, feeling unusually small—him as the predator and you as his prey that he managed to catch. Riki shifted, climbing onto the bed and he forced you to shift upward a little. The hybrid crawled forward on his knees, a hand now loosely wrapped around the base of his cock.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head backward. You knew what his intentions was, obediently opening your mouth and let him pushed his cock in. The hybrid purred in pleasure, feeling how tight and warm your cavern was. You made a muffled gagging sound, tears brimming in your eyes at his tip hitting the back of your throat.

He's big and thick, forcing you to further slacken your jaw muscles while covering your teeth with your lips, not wanting to injure him. You had to resort to breathing through your nose, savoring the heavy weight of his cock resting on your tongue. Riki cupped your left cheek, thumb gingerly wiping away the singular tear droplet that slipped, action all sickeningly sweet and oh so mean at the same time.

"Look at you, so pretty and wrecked for me. You're taking me well, aren't you?" He cooed, voice lowering an octave lower.

It's obvious you can't speak, not when your mouth was stuffed full of his cock, which is the reason why he used that condescending and belittling tone with you. Riki smirked, pushing forward a little, picking up the strangled moan you let out and how your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You let him used you like a toy as he fucked your throat, pushing in and out of your mouth at a slow, lazy and borderline teasing pace.

You did your best—tracing the protruding veins with your tongue and hollowed your cheeks for better suction. But god, he's too big. And judging from the knowing, dark glint in his eyes, Riki can tell you're struggling. Which was why he made a faux sweet coo, using his free hand to clasp it around your neck and gave it a light squeeze.

It's not enough to completely cut off your oxygen supply. You knew he wouldn't kill you, not with how smitten he is with you but it's the implication of it. The thought of him possessing both the capability and talent to snap your neck into half, to kill you immediately, made you even wetter, if that's possible.

Riki's eyes darted down, hissing under his breath at the large, dark stains beneath you. "You're one messy and needy slut, aren't you? Can't be satisfied even with your mouth full?"

"Mmpfh."

The hybrid groaned, mouth dropping open at the vibrations running down the length of his cock. "Shit, c-close."

He pulled you closer until his entire cock is in your mouth, your nose rubbing against his bare stomach. You gagged as he cum, painting it in the shade of his thick, hot cum. The hybrid groaned, releasing his grip from your hair and pulled his cock out of your swollen, sore mouth with a loud "pop" sound.

"Swallow it," he demanded, gripping your chin and you obeyed, even opening your mouth to let him see.

He purred, satisfied and tapped your right cheek twice. "Good girl. You deserve a reward, don't you?"

You sniffled, frantically and eagerly nodding. "P-Please.. I've been good."

He chuckled, flipping your position with him now laying on the bed, head on one of his pillows. You squeaked when you ended up on his lap, hands braced on his bare chest, soaking his toned stomach with your slick. Riki patted your thigh, dark eyes drinking in your naked figure shamelessly.

"Come up," he instructed, doing the "come here" gesture with his fingers.

You gulped, complying and crawled upward with shaking knees and hands. Resting one hand on the headboard and the other on your lap, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the puma's mouth. However, you were being too slow, earning an impatient growl from him.

"Riki!"

You cried out when he yanked you down, making you sit squarely on his face. He parted your folds with his left fingers—index and middle, plunging his long, rough and slimey tongue into your gaping entrance, tracing it along the walls and occasionally twisting it. A series of moans and whimpers left your lips at his relentless assault on your poor pussy.

It didn't help that you're still sensitive, which only further heightened the toe-curling sensations. Riki alternated between sucking and licking, like a famished beast that hasn't feasted for three months. He ate you out messily, spit trickling down his chin. You grinded your hips against his skillful tongue, moaning out loud as he pushed two fingers in, pumping them in and out of you.

The double penetration of his fingers and tongue made you further grind into his mouth, craving more. He purred, drunk on the taste of your slick and his tail snugly wrapped itself around your waist, the tip grazing your still-sensitive nipples, drawing a strangled, broken cry from you.

"R-Riki, c-can't.. too much, ngh," you keened, stars exploding behind your vision as he curled his fingers, easily locating that one spongy spot that made your thighs trembled vigorously.

"You can take it, baby," he moaned, voice muffled, tongue gliding along the seam of your folds.

You sobbed, the final straw comes with him sucking on your beyond clit and you cum with a soundless cry, mouth dropping open in an "O" shape, violent shockwaves coursing through your body. You weren't aware you even squirted—transparent, warm liquid gushing everywhere, landing on your sweaty, tangled bodies and the sheets.

Riki groaned, tongue lapping up what you have to offer, not wanting to let a single drop go to waste, ignoring how you squirmed and thrashed about, pussy weakly squirting a few more times before you went limp, bracing both hands against the wall to balance yourself. The hybrid finally detached his lips from you, the lower half of his face completely covered in your slick, practically glistening.

His ears twitched, tongue darting out to lick up your slick covering his lips, moaning at the taste. Your pussy throbbed at the lewd sight and you acted without thinking, scooting down until your cores made contact. At first, Riki was confused, furrowing his eyebrows but it was replaced with realization as he watched, not bothering to help—one hand on his lap while the other is held behind his head and between the headboard.

His breath hitched, watching how you collected your dripping slick, using it as lube before stroking his cock with your slick. It didn't take long for him to fill up and thicken in your grip. He had dreamed of this—having you beneath him as he fucks you, stretching you wide open with his cock, reducing you into a flushed and moaning mess with his name being chanted like a sacred prayer.

But dreams could never come close to the real thing.

The only form of assistance you got was Riki steadying you by your hips when you swayed to the side dangerously. With you holding the base of his cock—fingers barely touching, you aligned him to your stretched-out entrance and sank down in one go.

Both of you moaned in unison at the blinding feeling. The feeling of being connected on an intimate level. The stretch was no doubt painful, enough for your vision to blur slightly. You didn't move, struggling to accommodate to the size and grith of his cock as the pain gradually subsided until it's replaced with a numbing, consistent pleasure.

Riki, on the other hand, had to restrain himself at all costs. He nearly cum right there and then the moment he slides in. His eyes locked in on the prominent bludge on your stomach—right where his cock laid and he saw red.

He acted on instinct, the instinct of a wild, feral beast—manhandling you until your face was shoved into the pillow with you on your knees, your ass raised up high as your back was arched in an seductive arch. Riki wasted no time in pounding into you from behind, his heavy balls slapping against your inner thighs, creating a series of loud "plap, plap, plap" sound that echoed among the four walls of his bedroom.

"Think that pathetic ex-boyfriend of yours can fuck you better than I can? He can't," he snarled, leaning forward to plaster his chest against your back, one hand grabbing and kneading your left breast within his palm while twisting and pinching your hardened nipple.

You wailed, unable to form a coherent sentence, with how good he's stretching you and how he's filling you up, reshaping your insides to the shape and outline of his cock. The hybrid purred, slowing down his pace as he fucked you slow and nice, ensuring to circle his hips every time he bottomed out, savoring the blissed sigh you let out.

"M-More…" You babbled, head tilted forward with drool running down your chin.

He purred, nosing along your neck as he breathed in your scent. It's mixed with different smells—sweat, your body fluids and sex. But to him, there's no perfect combination other than this.

"More?" He echoed. "You're so greedy, baby. I'm already fucking you and you still want more?"

"M-Mhm!"

"What do you want? Tell me."

Now, you weren't thinking straight anymore, too fucked out to think about anything. So it's normal for Riki to be surprised by the words that left your mouth without you processing it.

"K-Knot me, please," you begged.

Riki's tail straightened, shooting up and his ears flicked upward.

Knot. Knot. Knot.

That was the only word he captured. The only word out of your short sentence. With a deep and guttural growl, he pounded into you with newfound determination. The thought of knotting you until your stomach swells, you waddling around in the house with a swollen baby as you born his children, makes him feral.

You keened as he angled his cock slightly, the tip now hitting that one delicate, spongy spot hidden between your gummy walls. It's enough for your knees to tremble, giving way as you fell into the sheets, trapping his hand between the bed and your chest. Riki clicked his tongue, hoisting you back up with his tail that's around your waist and his free hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, making a temporary ponytail to hold you upright.

He continued fucking into you, quickening the pace and the sound of skin slapping against skin gets louder and louder. You couldn't register the kind of sounds you're letting out but whatever it was, it can rival against a professional pornstar. You had to support yourself with your elbows resting on the sheets as sweat rolled down your cheeks.

"Gonna knot you, pump you full so you can carry my children," he snarled, his slitted eyes locked onto the way your ass cheeks jiggled at every thrust.

You whined out loud at his words, clenching around him and it didn't go unnoticed by him. You snaked your hand between your legs, tracing your fingers around where you're connected before rubbing your clit at the same pace as his thrust.

"G-Gonna cum, hah," you whimpered, your fingers gradually getting soaked from your own slick.

Riki cursed, slapping your hand away and replaced it with his own, drawing a loud, startled cry from you. "Then cum, baby. Let me see you fall apart."

He gave a harsh twist to your engorged clit and that was it. You cum while chanting his name like a sacred prayer, your walls violently convulsing around his cock as your juices ran down the paths of your inner thighs. Riki grit his teeth, sweat landing on the sheets as he felt his knot growing bigger and bigger—a sign he's reaching his climax.

With one last, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and released his hot, thick semen inside while he fucks you through your orgasm, forcing your pussy to milk him dry. You grimace at how incredibly full and sated you felt, stomach bloated with his hybrid cum. His knot remained lodged in your cunt, reaching the entrance to your womb.

Your elbows and knees gave way for the second time as you collapsed into the sheets, wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of you covered in body fluids and sweat. You thought it was finally over and that you could get a break.

However, Riki didn't have the same idea in mind.

"Ri—!?"

You made a sound when he thrusted into you from behind—his knot showing no signs of detaching itself from your womb, drawing a hoarse moan from you. You looked over your shoulder, swallowing nervously at the wild, intense look on his face. His dirty ash blonde hair was messed up, some strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. But it was his eyes that made your stomach tightened.

The lust and desire gaze, making you unconsciously clenched down on him, on his cock that's still buried deep inside you.

"We're not done yet, doll," he purred, lips curling up in a promising, dark smirk.

You gasped when he did an experimental thrust into you, creating a loud and wet squelch sound that made your ears heat up. But the embarrassment was gone when Riki pushed your head down into the sheets, rendering you immobile.

"We're not stopping until you take every single drop," he continued, leaving you swallowing, heart beating anxiously as you knew you're in for a long, wild and rough night.

[ming1luvr]

[hoonsonenonly]

so pretty 😭😭😭 sunsun and call me by your name is the one duo i didn't know i needed

[romancentold]

sunghoon who got on his knees to apologize after accidentally hitting a fan with a hat, sunghoon who speeds up when walking behind a woman at night so she feels safe, sunghoon who makes sure every fan gets their moment during send off, who still signs autographs for people waiting outside his hotel despite them literally basically stalking him, who always attentively buys gifts for his mom and sister, who writes handwritten letters for engenes, who constantly reminds engenes to value themselves and be wary of men… he’s not real

[hoonsonenonly]

If you make a post about it, tag me in it so I can see!

And then we can talk about it more because oh my god

I have so many thoughts about Sunwon it is actually Insane, I need to get them off of my chest

tell me tell me!!!! its good to get things off your chest

I feel like Sunwon is such an underrated duo

People underestimate Sunoo's kinkiness honestly, but i swear to god he'd been into so much kinky shit like brat taming 100% and he's the brat.....acting out just to get put back in his place and we already know just how sassy he is 🤤🤤

[hoonsonenonly]

Hello! Love finding similarly freaky people to me! Because I'm nothing if not absolutely kinky

Read some of your fics and loved all of them, thank you for feeding me dear author.

Speaking of freakiness, if you want to answer: What do think would be the boy's most freaky kink? Because oh boy I have thoughts about that but I'm curious what you think

Oh god you have no idea how many thoughts i have about this cuz ong they're the freakiest out there

Feel like i should make a post abt this cuz now im not gonna stop thinking abt this

thank you so much for all the love!!! 💖💖💖

[hoonsonenonly]

My Playlist #11.3 - Man, it's been a week and I got her bitching, switching, twitching

𑣲⋆ Song Teaser - A homeless Y/n moves in with her high school best friends, just for the time being. But maybe she'll stay forever?

pt1 | pt2 | pt3

𝄞𑣲⋆ artists - sunghoon x fem!reader x riki 𝄞𑣲⋆ content warnings - p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up bruh), use of petnames (sweetheart, angel, princess..), choking, breathplay, slight degradation (ion like it so...), masochist reader, nipple pinching, fingersucking, threesome, blowjob lemme know if i missed any <3 𝄞𑣲⋆ title track - Breathe by Kansh

𝄞𑣲⋆ Eunnie's lyrics - part three is here!! fucking finally i know. i have another part for this series cuz i wanna see them actually date so....

After that night, it's like the floodgates had opened.

You've always had a high sex drive, but somehow Sunghoon and Riki still have you beat, fucking you every second of the day. You could literally just be sitting on the couch, and Riki would saunter up to you and beg for a blowjob, or a handjob, or to fuck you, giving you those pleading eyes with a pout on his lips, which makes it impossible for you to say no.

At least Riki asks, Sunghoon simply takes, maneuvering you into position easily, thanks to his massive muscles, and just taking what he wants.

They've grown more comfortable around you, more open with their touches and words, whispering filthy words into your ear at breakfast, slapping your ass anytime it's in front of them (Sunghoon), and nipping and biting your neck (that's mostly Riki).

It's just like the trio you were in high school, except you fuck like rabbits in heat.

That is exactly how you feel, head pressed into the soft couch cushions while Riki drills into you like a fucking maniac, fingers gripping your hips so hard you're sure there will be visible marks tomorrow, matching the ones around your neck.

The ones around your neck are from this morning, courtesy of Park Sunghoon, who decided that the first thing he wanted to do in the morning was to fuck you till the brink of madness. It's not like you were complaining, too busy muffling your moans in the blanket to not wake Riki up.

"Fuck princess, still gripping me so tight as if we aren't on our second round," Riki growls into your ear, hips snapping against your ass, angled so well that his cock hits your sweet spot with every powerful thrust. You're so deep into the pleasure, loud moans echoing off the walls, that you don't hear the front door opening.

Sunghoon freezes as soon as he steps inside. Rooted to his place, his eyes wander the erotic scene playing out in front of him. You, face down, ass up, moaning like a fucking pornstar while Riki thrusts into you, his hand gripping your hips as he grunts and groans.

Sunghoon feels heat rush south immediately, already half hard in his slacks at the sight.

He slips out of his shoes, careful not to make a sound as he approaches the sofa. As he nears, Riki finally spots him, hips stuttering as he mutters, "Sunghoon hyung?"

Your head snaps up, eyes wide as you lock eyes with Sunghoon, who just smirks down at you.

"Hi angel, having fun?" You move to sit up, suddenly embarrassed by the position you're in, but Sunghoon moves faster, gripping your face in his hands, "Did I say to stop?"

His tone drops in such a way that you know not to disobey, his eyes flicking from you to Riki, who gulps at the sheer dominance radiating off of him.

"Go on, Riki-yah," he urges, and Riki starts moving at once, thrusting into you shallowly, the complete opposite of what he was mere minutes ago.

"Riki-yah, I know you can do better than that, fuck her like you mean it," he smirks up at Riki, who finally seems to regain some of his confidence and speeds up, making you whine.

"As for you, angel," he says, pulling you up till you're inches away from his face. Your lips part immediately for a kiss, but he simply smirks up at you.

You whine against his lips, and he chuckles darkly, thumb brushing your bottom lip. You lick at the pad, but he pulls away, crushing his lips onto yours instead in a bruising kiss.

Your lips part for him easily, tongues tangling as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He pulls away, a string of spit connecting your mouths, you go cross-eyed watching it stretch, then snap.

He lets go of your face to unbutton his pants, pulling out his already rock-hard cock, an angry red at the tip, leaking pre-cum in droplets. He grips the base, tapping the head against your lips thrice, smearing the fluid, before tapping your cheek, "Open, sweetheart."

Your jaw drops open, and he pushes into your mouth with a groan. Riki shifts angles, hitting your sweet spot directly, making you cry out, voice muffled by Sunghoon's cock in your mouth.

"Taking Sunghoon hyung so well, princess, aren't you?" Riki drawls, bending down to trail kissed down your back, pausing at your tattoo to suck a hickey onto the ink, making you whimper.

"She's fucking made for us, Riki-yah," Sunghoon grunts, thrusting into your mouth shallowly, hand locked around your head. You've never been so completely overwhelmed by pleasure before. It makes your head spin, moans not quietening for even a second.

"Just like that angel, take me deeper," Sunghoon pushes in deeper, cutting off your air supply as he nudges into your throat. Riki speeds up impossibly, the head of his cock hitting your cervix, making you dizzy with pleasure as you feel yourself being pushed to the edge.

"Gonna cum for us, princess? Gonna come around my cock while Sunghoon hyung fucks your throat?" Riki purrs in your ear, making you whine against Sunghoon's cock.

The words tip you over, and you come with a cry, pulling off Sunghoon's cock as you collapse onto the couch, heaving. Riki follows soon after, emptying into your cunt with a moan, hips stuttering.

"My turn, Riki, move," Sunghoon orders, and Riki scowls at him for a second before pulling out, groaning quietly. You barely have time to wipe the spit off your face from when Sunghoon was halfway down your throat, before he lines his dick up with your entrance, pushing in slowly.

Sunghoon's almost the same length as Riki, but he's thicker, so the stretch burns, making you whimper as he slides in, your fluids and Riki's cum making the glide in smooth. "God, you're still so tight, angel," He grunts, finally sheathing himself to the hilt.

"S-sensitive," you croak out, voice hoarse with how you've been practically screaming with pleasure the entire time. Riki moves in front of you, cupping your jaw with one hand, "You'll take it, won't you, princess? Such a desperate little slut for our cocks,"

He brushes his lips against yours, but doesn't kiss you yet. His hands slide down, eyes finally landing on the faint lines around your neck from this morning, "Looks like someone's been busy, how many times has Sunghoon hyung fucked you since last week, princess?"

Your eyes widen at his words, "H-How do you-"

"I was in the house, baby, and you weren't exactly quiet, were you?" He chuckles deeply before his slender fingers wrap around your throat. Sunghoon thrusts in at the same time, making you keen.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're gripping me so tight," He growls in your ear, hands sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, yanking on the strands to pull you up. You mewl, moving easily as he noses at your neck, nipping and biting as he thrusts into you.

"Filthy little angel, fucking both of us at the same time. Did you think we wouldn't figure it out?" Sunghoon drawls, before sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and shoulder.

Riki tightens his grip around your neck at the same time, cutting off the perfect amount of air for every feeling in your body to be amplified.

"You sound so pretty falling apart for us, princess. Does it feel good?" Riki purrs, two fingers leaving your throat to move up to your lips, pushing past without a warning. Your jaw drops open immediately, moans vibrating against his skin as you jerk with every snap of Sunghoon's hips.

"Answer, sweetheart," Sunghoon orders, pulling on your hair just enough to sting a little extra. You talk with Riki's fingers stuffed in your mouth, "Fweels s-so good ngh s-so gwood, you b-both f-fuck me s-swo well." You feel hazy, no thoughts in your head as your body gets overwhelmed, completely dumb with pleasure.

You're drooling around Riki's fingers as he pushes down on your tongue. Sunghoon's hands slide down your arms to bring them both around your back, pinning them together as he holds you in place, back arching deliciously as he changes the angle.

You cry out as he does, eyes rolling to the back of your head, tears lining your eyes.

Riki's other hand slides down, cupping your breasts, bouncing with every snap of Sunghoon's hips, pinching the bud between his fingers before rolling it, spreading tingles of pain across your skin. Riki grins at the reaction before his mouth engulfs your nipple, nipping and biting.

Riki pulls off, before crashing his lips into yours in a hungry kiss, all teeth and tongue as you moan into his mouth. A tear slips down your cheeks, and he chuckles, "Aw, does it feel this good, baby? Being fucked senseless by your childhood friends? Tell me, princess, have you thought about this before?" his voice drops, tone dripping in condescension, making heat settle in your stomach.

You nod frantically, your ability to form coherent thoughts slipping away with each perfectly angled thrust of Sunghoon's cock, and each pulse of Riki's fingers around your throat.

"I-I have, w-wanted this f-for so long, o-oh god ngh, wanted you both f-for so long," the words tumble out of your mouth. "Greedy, aren't you, angel? Wanting us both," Sunghoon muses.

"But it's okay, princess, we want you just as bad. Don't we, Sunghoon hyung?" Riki grins, eyes flicking to Sunghoon, who nods, "Of course we do, sweetheart, how could we not?"

Their words send sparks down your spine, and you feel yourself standing at the edge again. "C-close, oh god, I'm so fucking c-close," you cry out, and a heartbeat later, you're falling over the edge, clenching around Sunghoon so tight that he empties into you seconds later with a grunt. You feel warmth flood your stomach as he heaves behind you.

He lets go of your hands, and you fall down, face-first into the couch cushions. You feel boneless, fucked out in the best way possible. Sunghoon pulls out of you a few moments later, making you whine at the loss of fullness. You finally open your eyes, watching Sunghoon smile at you softly, fingers threading through your sweaty hair to push it out of your face.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks, and you grin at him, "Fuck yes, I am." He chuckles, pulling you up to peck your lips. Your eyes whir over to Riki, who's looking at you with wide eyes.

You smile, leaning over the sofa to kiss him. He melts into the kiss instantly, smiling when you pull back.

Your eyes drop to his cock, hard again, curling towards his stomach. Your eyes flick back up to his, "Need help with that, 'ki?" you ask, and he immediately flushes, "No, you must be tired, it's okay- fuck"

You cut him off by wrapping your lips around him, swirling your tongue around his tip. Sunghoon groans beside you, straightening up, "I'm gonna go shower while you deal with that, 'cause if I stay, I will get hard again, and I don't think you'll be able to deal with that."

You pull off Riki with a smirk, "Try me," you prod, and Sunghoon's lips curl into a smile, "Insatiable, aren't you? But no, we've tired you out enough. I'm gonna go shower, so have fun, you two," He plants a kiss on the top of your head, and you glance up at Riki, chuckling before you take him back into your mouth.

You lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, tracing the veins with your tongue. His fingers tangle in your hair, not pulling or pushing, but just anchoring himself, "Fuck, your mouth is heaven. Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"Practice makes perfect, Riki-yah," you tease, and he growls possessively at the implication of your words. "Such a fucking tease, aren't you? Saying shit like that after we've proved to you plenty that no one else can fuck you like we can,"

"No one else can, Riki-yah, and no one else ever will." Your words elicit a satisfied hum that morphs into a whimper as you take him deeper into your mouth, easily slipping him into your throat.

"Fuck, princess, do you not have a gag reflex?" he asks, shocked as you shake your head. Lust flashes in his eyes as he groans, "That is so fucking hot. We are so going to take advantage of that,"

You hum around his cock, and vibrations make his hips twitch into your mouth, slipping him further inside. "God, I'm gonna cum, y/n. Such a good girl, taking me so well," he praises, thrusting into your mouth shallowly.

You feel him twitch in your mouth one last time before he spills into your throat with a groan, head tilting back.

You pull off him, swallowing his load with a grin while you lock eyes with him. "Such a fucking tease, c'mere," he beckons, and you lift up on your knees, kissing him messily.

A few minutes later, you're in the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, you almost don't recognize yourself. You have purple marks all over your skin, on your neck, trailing down to your breasts and stomach.

You move your hair to the side to see a massive bite mark just beside your nape, a clear indent of teeth visible.

Around the front of your neck, clear red lines, the kind that will take at least a day to vanish.

You twist to look at your back, and surprise, there are a million more tiny marks spread all across the expanse of skin, a whole cluster of them at the ink on the bottom, red marks clearly turning purple.

You gasp as you notice the clear finger indents on your hips and around your wrists as well.

You storm out of the bathroom, "You both are such savages, oh my god!" you exclaim, and both heads snap toward you. "What the fuck is this?" You gesture to your neck, and then trail down to your entire body.

Riki looks at you sheepishly, while Sunghoon just grins, smugly, "You look good like that, though."

You glare at him, "I have to go to work tomorrow, Sunghoon." Sunghoon just shrugs, stepping forward to wrap a hand around your waist, pecking your cheek, "Just wear a turtleneck, and you'll be fine, angel."

Riki steps forward too, landing a sweet kiss on your other cheek, "You do look good all covered in our marks, though." You scowl at him, and he just chuckles.

"You're so lucky I like you both," you mutter, before turning around and walking back into the bathroom.

Both of them just chuckle fondly, exchanging glances before settling down on the sofa.

Riki speaks up first, sighing dreamily, "Hyung. I can't believe that just happened."

"I know, it feels like a fever dream," Sunghoon says, smiling.

"There is no way we're letting her leave this house, are we?"

"Absolutely the fuck not,"

[hoonsonenonly]

My Playlist #11.2 - I know what you like, fuck your lights out

𑣲⋆ Song Teaser - A homeless Y/n moves in with her high school best friends, just for the time being. But maybe she'll stay forever?

pt1 | pt2

𝄞𑣲⋆ artists - sunghoon x fem!reader x riki 𝄞𑣲⋆ content warnings - fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up bruh), use of petnames (sweetheart, angel, princess..), choking, breathplay, slight degradation (ion like it so...), masochist reader, nipple pinching, spanking, belly bulge, fingersucking lemme know if i missed any <3 𝄞𑣲⋆ title track - Breathe by Kansh

𝄞𑣲⋆ Eunnie's lyrics - umm so i love brat tamer hoon with all my heart...also definitely didnt project my kinks onto the reader hahahahahahahahaha

Everything went back to normal after you and Riki had hooked up. Neither of you talked about it, but there was mutual understanding. Riki was more forthcoming with his touches, wrapping an arm around your waist, kissing your cheek, or even your neck if you were alone in the house.

The house had settled into a sort of quiet domesticity. You'd say goodbye to Sunghoon when he left early for his practice, and soon after, Riki, as he left for the studio.

Then, since you had another few days off, you'd clean, lounge about the house, and then get some work done on your laptop, editing or mixing a track.

When the two of them would get back, you'd have dinner together, laughing and talking into the night as if you'd never left high school.

Park Sunghoon and Nishimura Riki. You became friends at the start of freshman year, when all three of you were new students and friendless.

You'd gotten impossibly close after that. You were hanging out together all the time, doing random shit together, going to parties, getting drunk together, getting high together, all the jazz.

But the one thing you had never done was hook up.

You weren't blind; you knew your friends were attractive, but unfortunately, they never crossed that line with you, no matter how hard you tried to provoke them, and provoke them you did.

But now that they're older, more attractive than ever, you were gonna try harder.

And for the record, you knew they were attracted to you, too. Maybe not then, but at least now they were. You and Riki had amazing sex, so that's pretty self-explanatory, but Park Sunghoon.....you'd have to try harder to seduce.

Park Sunghoon, on the other hand, was barely holding it together. You'd been flitting around in those stupid shorts all day long, bending over in front of him in the kitchen, giving him that sweet smile of yours that made him wanna bend you over the kitchen counter and pound into you till you're smiling at him deliriously, tear tracks running down your cheeks.

But he prides himself on his restraint, and he's not letting himself down now, even if it gets more and more difficult with every second you stretch in front of him, shirt riding up enough to show off the curve of your waist, revealing an intricate design of black ink on your lower back. You have a tattoo. A tramp stamp.

Oh god, he's fucked, isn't he?

"Need some help, sweetheart?" he muses, setting his drink down on the table before he walks over to you. He's pressed up against you a second later, your ass right against his pelvis as he engulfs you, warmth steady against your back.

"Y-Yeah, can't reach the bowl in the back," you say quietly, looking back at him with your wide doe eyes. He groans quietly as he looks down at you, your lips together in a small pout, blinking up at him innocently as he reaches up into the cupboard, leaning forward till he's inches away from your lips.

He almost closes the distance when your tongue flicks out, the thread of restraint so close to snapping. You sigh against his lips, eyes flicking down, then back up very visibly. You push back against him, too, just slightly, but he notices, of course, he does.

He's been noticing everything about you since fucking high school. What drink you liked, what type of clothes you liked, your favourite colour, your favourite song, your favourite artists, he knew it all like the back of his hand. He's never forgotten, not even when you left.

You want this, too. He notes with a smirk, placing the bowl on the counter. You smile at him then, the same one you used to give him in high school, bunny teeth on display, dimples popping lowly on either side, "Thanks, Hoon-ah,"

Ah, there it is again. That stupid nickname. The one only you called him. The one that made his heart flip in his chest. You pour a bag of chips into the bowl, munching from it quietly when Sunghoon speaks again, "You have a tattoo," a statement more than a question.

You nod, "Got it the day I turned 21 because my friend told me it looks insanely hot when you get backshots, and I was drunk," you say with a chuckle, casual, as if you hadn't just planted the image of him giving you backshots in his mind.

To make it worse, you flip the shirt over once more, to give him another clear view of the ink that rested on your honey-skin. He inhales sharply, and you look over at him with a smirk that tells him you know exactly what you're doing.

He makes a low, frustrated sound, trying to collect the last bits of his restraint and failing. "You're a fucking menace," he groans, and you simply smirk at him, popping another chip into your mouth.

"Am I now?" you drawl, taking a step ahead. You lean over the counter on your elbows, head in the palm of your hands, as you hit him with the doe-eyes look once again. Fucking lethal with the way the collar of your shirt drops, and he can see the swell of your breasts.

"Whatchya gonna do about it?" you tease, lips curling in a grin that says you know exactly how you're affecting him. He growls, low in his throat, before surging forward, finally at his wits' end as he grabs your face in his hand, and yanks you forward, fingers pressing into your cheeks, not hard but firm enough for you to know he's had enough.

"Care to find out, sweetheart?" he breathes against your lips, and you grin at him again, looking up at him with defiance, "Think you handle me?" you prod further, and he chuckles, the sound dripping with the confidence of a man who has a huge dick and knows exactly how to use it.

"I know how to handle brats just fine, sweetheart. Don't worry your pretty little head about it,"

"Aww, you think I'm pretty, baby?" you coo, lips curling into a smile.

"Baby?" he repeats coldly, "You've got five seconds before I shut you up properly." The air crackles between the two of you. He hates how unbothered you look while he's this close to kissing you senseless.

"Losing patience, are we now?" you taunt. His jaw tightens. That smirk is the last straw. In a flash, Sunghoon crashes his lips onto yours. No warning, no softness. Just pure, punishing hunger, all teeth and desperation.

One hand still holds your jaw while the other fists into your hair, tilting your head back so he can kiss you deeper. You chuckle into the kiss, hands pressed up against the hard plane of his stomach, feeling the muscles under the fabric.

The sound of your laugh, light, mocking, vibrates against his lips and makes him snap. Sunghoon breaks the kiss only to bite down on your lower lip, sharp and quick, a warning. His breath is uneven now, eyes dark with something between fury and lust.

"Really don't have a lot of patience, do you, Hoon-ah?" you say, tone dipping into slight condescension. Sunghoon freezes for half a second. Then, in one swift motion, he lifts you onto the counter behind him with zero grace, bowl clattering to the side as he cages you in with both arms, his face hovering inches from yours.

"You are going to regret saying that," he growls. "No, I'm definitely not," you chuckle, as cocky as ever. A slow, dangerous smirk curls at the corner of his lips.

Without breaking eye contact, he leans in slowly, then suddenly bites your bottom lip, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to hurt. A punishment kiss.

You hiss as he bites down on your lip, pleasure shooting down your spine in tingles, before capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. You gasp as he yanks on your hair, not enough to truly hurt but just enough, a sharp sting at the roots, that makes every nerve in your body light up.

He knows exactly what he's doing.

Every pull of his hand tilts your head back further, exposing more of your neck. Every bite on that plush lip is calculated retaliation for her endless teasing.

"Desperate, aren't we?" you breathe out, settling back against the counter, cold marble biting into your skin, even through the thin shirt.

Sunghoon pulls back just enough to glare at you, lips slightly swollen from kissing, hair messily disheveled from your fingers tugging, and his chest rises and falls too fast for someone who prides himself on composure.

He doesn’t answer with words.

Instead, he grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it up in one swift motion, breaking contact only long enough to toss it aside. Then both hands are on your bare waist, warm palms contrasting against the cold marble beneath you.

Without warning, he leans down and presses a searing kiss right above your hipbone, teasing, before trailing higher with open-mouthed kisses along your stomach.

And then? He pauses. Just stares up at you through dark lashes. You're grinning down at him smugly. Victorious. And it pisses him off, exactly what you wanted.

Sunghoon doesn’t smile back. Instead, he leans up slowly, crushing his mouth against yours again, no softness this time, just pure possession.

He pulls away abruptly. Just an inch. Just enough so you can see his face, the cold mask slipping into something darker; amusement laced with revenge. The second your lips chase his, parted, swollen, breathless, Sunghoon’s stomach flips.

But he doesn’t let it show.

Instead, he smirks. His lips slide sideways across your jawline to capture just below your ear, and bite there gently before whispering against warm skin, "Desperate?" he mocks.

"Not as much as you," you snap back instantly, and Sunghoon actually laughs, a low, quiet sound, rough around the edges.

But he doesn’t let it soften him. In one fluid motion, he pins both your wrists above your head again with one hand and uses his free hand to trail slowly down your bare side, fingertips skimming every inch like they’re memorizing you.

"Prove it," he says slowly, voice a velvet whisper, "That you're not the desperate one." Then his free hand slides into your hair again and gently tugs to tilt your head back further. His thumb brushes over your kiss-swollen bottom lip like he’s studying you, testing how much control you really have right now.

Your tongue flicks out to lick at the pad of his thumb, the playful grin never leaving your face. Sunghoon’s breath hitches. Just a tiny catch. Almost unnoticeable. But it’s there.

His pupils dilate instantly, the cold mask cracking for a split second as warmth floods through him. He doesn’t pull away, a slow smirk creeps onto his face instead, the dangerous kind, and without warning, he drags that same thumb across your bottom lip again, then slowly brings it to his own mouth and sucks on it gently.

Tasting you.

The second his thumb presses into your mouth, warm from being in his own just moments ago, Sunghoon watches you like a predator. Your eyebrows raise slightly, faint surprise flickering across your face.

He keeps eye contact the entire time, that smug smirk widening as he gently pushes his thumb past your lips, testing how far you’ll let him go.

His other hand still holds both of yours pinned above you. No escape. Your lips close around his thumb, warm, soft, and your tongue drags slowly along the underside.

Sunghoon’s entire body tenses. He doesn’t move for a heartbeat. Then two. And then, without warning, he pushes the digit down on your tongue, forcing your jaw open.

You gasp quietly as he does, jaw dropping open. His thumb lingers on your tongue, dragging slowly across the sensitive surface before pressing down just enough to make your mouth water.

The way you’re breathless beneath him. The way those pretty eyes stay locked on his while he invades that intimacy so casually. It makes something primal stir inside him.

Then, without pulling away completely, he curls the tip of his thumb and gently scrapes it against the roof of your mouth. You make a quiet sound in the back of your throat, high-pitched, soft.

Helpless in a way that sends heat rushing between your legs. Your eyes roll back, just for a split second, like you’re completely undone by something as simple as his thumb in your mouth.

Slowly drags his thumb along your tongue once more, and watches with dark fascination as another quiet noise escapes you.

Suddenly, he doesn’t want to play games anymore. He drags his thumb along your tongue again, and the muscle follows, hanging out of your mouth as he flicks his tongue with yours.

The moment your tongue instinctively brushes against his, almost shy in contrast to everything they’ve been doing, Sunghoon loses the last thread of restraint.

A low hum vibrates in his throat, and then he’s kissing you. The kiss is all spit and tongue, and Sunghoon groans low in his throat. You pull away, heaving, eyes lidded with lust as you hit him with another smug grin, though weaker than before. Less power behind it. "Only gonna kiss me, baby? nothing more?"

"So mouthy, aren't you?" he groans, but he doesn't really look like he hates it. Instead, your bratiness makes heat settle in his stomach, the urge to just shut you up in any way possible getting stronger with each retort, with each smug grin you throw in his direction.

His hands slide under your back, lifting slightly as he kisses lower, past the curve of your shoulder, along the slope of bare skin now exposed from where her shirt was tossed aside earlier.

The soft click of your bra unhooking echoes in the quiet room, and Sunghoon lets out a low, appreciative hum against your skin.

Dark eyes scanning every inch, the shape of you, the feel of your skin beneath his fingers. His breath hitches slightly before he leans down again.

Sunghoon hovers just above your nipple, close enough that his breath ghosts over it, warm and teasing, but he doesn’t touch.

He’s waiting. Dark eyes locked onto yours, that same cocky half-smirk playing on his lips, the one that says "I know you want it."

"Don't act like you don't want to just as bad," you retort, words sharp and defiant. Sunghoon's smirk simply deepens, like he'd expected you to snap back.

His hand slides back into your hair, tangling in the strands before he tugs, making you gasp, "Ask nicely, sweetheart," he warns. You bite down another retort, simply glaring at him.

His free hand comes up to pinch a bud between his fingers, and a moan slips out before you can stop it, low and unfiltered. He looks at you with slight shock, "Ah, so you're a masochist," he says, voice low, teasing as if it's an obvious thing.

"Kinda," you reply, breathless as he wraps his lips around the other nipple, warm and wet. No teasing bite yet, just slow suction, gentle pressure as his mouth works over the sensitive bud.

He pulls off your nipples, now redder than before, glistening with spit. Then suddenly, you're being lifted into the air. You yelp, wrapping your legs around Sunghoon's waist, arms around his neck.

"Bedroom," he says and starts walking towards his room. He pushed open the door with one hand, before all but tossing you onto the bed, climbing over you a moment later, trailing kisses down your stomach impatiently.

"Are we gonna do foreplay all day, sweetheart?" you muse, which makes Sunghoon pause, just above your navel. A low chuckle rumbles from his chest, straining slightly so you know you've finally gotten on his last nerve.

He kisses right below your belly button, before dragging his mouth lower, inch by agonizing inch. He stops just above where you really want him and glances up with those dark eyes, the same smug look as always, expectant.

"What do you want me to say? That I am absolutely loving how fucking slow you're going?" you snap back, and your sarcasm, sharp and impatient, finally snaps something in him.

Sunghoon’s eyes flash. He doesn’t snap back with words. No retort. No cold remark. Instead, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and yanks them down, in one swift motion, just enough to expose more skin of your ass, landing a loud smack on the flesh.

The sound that escapes you is half gasp, half whine, a mixture of pleasure-pain sending tingles all through your body.

"Oh, you like that?" he taunts. Before you can even recover from the sting, he's manhandling you effortlessly, flipping you onto your stomach as he lands another sharp smack on the same spot, just as firm.

"You really love being a fucking brat, don't you?" he growls, his control hanging together by a thin string. "You make it so easy," you prod further, wanting him to finally snap.

Sunghoon freezes for a moment before his hands grab your wrist, bring them together behind your back as he pulls you up, pinning both wrists behind your back with one strong hand as you arch back into him.

He leans down to your ear as he growls, "Keep fucking talking, sweetheart, see where it gets you."

"With pleasure," you retort with a grin, and that's the final push his need for the string to finally snap. In one fluid motion, he pushed your head down into the mattress, as you yelp.

The pressure on your head forces your back into a deep arch, exposing every curve, making you vulnerable in the most delicious way. Your wrists are locked together behind you with one strong hand, and the other pins your shoulder down like he’s caging you completely.

And still, you're grinning.

Even now. Even under his control, no escape, no room to move, you’re smirking like this is all just another game where you win. (Because you do, you've been provoking him on purpose just to get roughed around like this.)

Sunghoon sees it. And it drives him insane.

"Let's see how you grin at me when I'm fucking you stupid, sweetheart," he growls into your ear before yanking your underwear all the way down to pool around your ankles.

The cold air hits your glistening, bare cunt, before Sunghoon's hand follows, sliding down the curve of your back. "Such a pretty little thing, aren't you, princess?" he hums, fingers tracing the ink on your back appreciatively, before finally brushing against your heat.

"So wet already, angel? Just from you roughing you around?" he purrs, before landing a sharp smack right on your cunt, making your breath hitch, "O-oh god," you croak out.

"God can't save you now, angel." he lands another smack to your cunt, before pushing two fingers into your heat, making you moan out loud, your voice muffled in the sheets.

"You've pushed me to the edge; now you have to deal with the consequences," He curls his fingers just right, prodding at the sweet spot with every move. A few minutes later, just as the pleasure starts pushing you towards the edge, he pulls his fingers out, making you whine.

He lands another sharp hit to your cunt, and you moan shamelessly, "You come on my cock, or you don't come at all, sweetheart," he drawls, and you feel the head of his cock nudge at your entrance. You wish you could see his pretty cock, but you're not risking disobeying him again, so you just stay put.

He pushes the head in, "Damn, you're still so tight," he mumbles as he pushes in further with a loud grunt. You feel the stinging stretch of your walls, "T-too b-big, won't fit," you croak out, and he simply chuckles behind you, as if your words had amused him.

"You were being so mouthy before, can't handle it now?" he taunts, landing another sharp smack to your ass cheek, now blooming red. "Answer, angel," he warns, tugging on your hair, and you nod vigorously, "I-I can, f-fuck I can,"

He finally buries himself to the hilt, and you feel so full it's impossible to describe. He's big and thick, more than Riki at least, pulsing inside you. steadily. "Good girl, taking my cock so well, aren't you?" he praises, making you whine into the sheets, clenching around him.

"Liked that too, I see." He thrusts into you shallowly, eyes trained on the ink sprawled above your ass as he moves. You shudder, feeling each drag of his cock across your walls, stretching you out more than ever. You whine impatiently, "You're going so fucking slow, come on,"

That earns you another smack on your ass, moaning as you bury your face in the sheets, "Still talking back, angel?" He speeds up, thrusting into you at a brutal pace, "The only thing I wanna hear is you screaming my name while I bully that sweet spot of yours," he growls in your ear, burying himself so deep with every thrust you feel him in your stomach.

You're moaning loudly now, getting pushed back on the bed with every thrust. Sunghoon yanks on your hair again, pulling you up so your back is pressed up against his chest, "Shh, sweetheart, you can't be so loud, Riki's in the next room."

The words send a shock of thrill down your spine, making you whine, but you don't quieten. He chuckles lowly in your ear, breath ghosting the shell, as a hand slides up your chest and long, thick fingers wrap around your throat.

You gasp, eyes rolling back, clenching around him involuntarily. "Ha, knew you'd like that, you little pain slut. Such a dirty little thing, aren't ya' angel?"

His thrusts turn animalistic, grunting into your ear as you cry out with each thrust, back arching while he keeps you in place with a hand around your neck, squeezing occasionally just to feel your gummy walls squeeze him.

"F-fuck, Hoonie ngh feels s-so good," you cry out, tears springing to your eyes because of the sheer pleasure coursing through your body.

You're delirious already with the lack of air in your lungs amplifying every sensation, every thrust hitting your cervix so deeply. You feel the pleasure reach its height, feeling that coil tighten in your stomach.

"Fuck, you're doing so well, angel, taking me so nicely," He praises, hand coming round to wrap around your waist, "You can feel me here, can't you, sweetheart?" he pressed his fingers just below your navel, on your womb, watching it distend with each powerful thrust.

The sight pushes you closer to the edge, shaking slightly now with every thrust, "C-close...s-so close. Can I? C-can I please?" you whine, tears slipping down your face, voice cracking. Your mind is hazy, not a single thought in your head except gonna come, gonna come, gonna come

"Aww, close already, angel? I'll let you come this time, but if you mouth off like that again, I won't be so giving."

The minute he gives you permission, you're coming with a loud cry, thighs trembling as your eyes roll back into your head, white bursting behind your eyes.

Sunghoon comes soon after, you wrapped around his cock like a vice as he empties into your heat, with a loud groan. You feel warmth flood your stomach as you collapse onto the mattress face-first, Sunghoon finally letting go of your neck.

You're heaving, still trembling through the throes of that mind-numbingly euphoric orgasm, with Sunghoon peppering kisses down your sweaty back, lingering on the tattoo. "You good, angel?" he asks softly, pushing the hair out of your face, planting a kiss on your cheek.

You grin at him, still a bit delirious, tear tracks staining your face, "Never been better," you say hoarsely. Sunghoon simply smiles at you, pulling out slowly. You whine quietly at the loss, feeling wrongfully empty as he cleans up.

Little did you know, Riki's standing right outside the door, ear pressed to the wood and pants now stained.

[heejakelvr]

Sunghoon biased writers write the freakiest shit

Thank you hoon idk where id be without your guidance 🙏🏾

[hoonsonenonly]

My Playlist #11.1 - If you want it I could give it to you right now

𑣲⋆ Song Teaser - A homeless Y/n moves in with her high school best friends, just for the time being. But maybe she'll stay forever?

𝄞𑣲⋆ artists - sunghoon x fem!reader x riki 𝄞𑣲⋆ content warnings - fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up bruh), use of petnames (pretty, princess, baby..), choking, slight degradation (ion like it so...) lemme know if i missed any <3 𝄞𑣲⋆ title track - Breathe by Kansh

𝄞𑣲⋆ Eunnie's lyrics - Woah two in one day??? also I have more parts for this so stick around yeah?

You're homeless. Like legitimately homeless.

Your apartment has a major plumbing problem that caused your entire apartment to get flooded, and all your friends are away on vacation. The only solution you can think of is getting drunk, because getting drunk solves all your problems and gets you out of your head, even if it's only for a little while, and even if you know you're gonna wake up with a pounding headache tomorrow.

So here you are, dressed in the only clothes that are still dry, which are a pair of skimpy shorts and a lace cami that you wore to bed the night your apartment got flooded.

You're lugging around a large suitcase that's full of all your belongings, the ones that survived the flood anyway. You're seated at one of the high stools at the bar, downing glass after glass, till your head feels hazy and your panicked thoughts have finally calmed down.

You're just about to order another round when you feel a presence beside you, turning to your side when you hear your name being called.

"Y/n?" a voice speaks, "Is that you?" It sounds like a guy, so you squint your eyes to get a better look. You get an image of a tall, handsome dude, who's staring at you with recognition in his eyes, thick eyebrows furrowed together.

"Yes, this is she. You are?" you ask, leaning ahead. "Sunghoon. From high school, remember?" You gasp as his face finally clicks in your head. "Park Sunghoon! Oh my god, I haven't seen you in forever!" you exclaim, and he chuckles, "How have you been, dude?!" you ask excitedly, springing to your feet to throw your hands around his neck in a hug. He wraps his hands around your waist, lingering a second too long before you pull away.

He leans against the counter now, "Good so far, how are you?" he asks, and you take a moment to appreciate how fucking gorgeous he is. He's grown into his features wonderfully since high school. God you'd missed seeing his pretty face everyday.

"Homeless at the moment, but good overall!" you say with a smile way too bright for someone who is literally on the streets. He straightens immediately, looking at you with amusement, "What?"

That's when his eyes land on the suitcase at your side. "Wait, you're actually homeless?" he exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes. A figure walks over to his side, "Who's homeless, hyung?" a deep voice asks, eyes flicking over to you and coming over with recognition once again. "Y/n?" he exclaims, and you gasp, "Oh my god, Riki!?" You spring up again, but don't hug him. Fuck, he's fine too, what the fuck? He's totally different from the dork you were friends with in high school, now tall and handsome in a way you never thought he'd look. Talk about a fucking glow up.

"Shit, I haven't seen you both in a hot minute. How are you?" you ask Riki, who shrugs, "Doing good, Y/n. What about you?"

"She's currently homeless, but good overall," Sunghoon muses beside him, and Riki snickers before his eyes land on your suitcase too. "Damn, are you actually homeless?" You nod, lips in a tight line as you settle back down on the stool, hand running through your hair in frustration, "My apartment got flooded, so I had to leave, and now I have nowhere to go."

"That's horrible," Sunghoon says sympathetically. He looks over to Riki for a moment, locking eyes with him as they have a whole conversation with their gazes.

Then Riki finally speaks up, "You can stay with us for a while." Your eyes light up, hope blooming in your heart, "Fuck, really?" Riki nods, "Sunghoon and I live 20 minutes away, and we have a guest room free if you'd like."

"You guys wouldn't mind?" you ask, hesitant now. "No, no, it's totally fine, Y/n. Don't worry too much, pretty." Sunghoon reassures you.

"It's only for like two weeks. I promise I won't be too much trouble." You ramble, eyes darting between the two of them.

"Y/n, it's fine. Come on, we can go right now, if you'd like." Sunghoon suggests, holding a hand out for you. You look at them, unsure for a moment before you get up, dragging your suitcase behind you.

Riki steps in a second later, taking the bag from your hands with a grin. You're about to protest, but he cuts in, "I'll take care of it, pretty. Just keep walking, yeah?"

You're swaying on your feet, drunker than you expected, as you walk into the cool summer night. Sunghoon stays beside you as you walk, ready to catch you if you stumble. He stops in front of a sleek black car, key clicking in his hand as it beeps.

"Whoa, is this your car?" you exclaim, stumbling towards it, running a hand over the smooth black hood. Sunghoon chuckles behind you softly, before stepping toward you, hands on your hips as he pulls you back gently, pulling open the door.

His hand is warm on your waist, warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your cami. "Yes, sweetheart, now let's get you safe inside, okay?" he says softly, as you slide into the passenger seat. Riki loads your suitcase into the back before both of them settle into the car, Sunghoon in the driver's seat and Riki beside him in the front.

Riki glances back at you, sprawled across the backseat, eyes shut as you drift off to sleep. "She's asleep already," he says quietly, and Sunghoon sighs, "She's still exactly the same."

"But so much prettier, fucking hell, she's gorgeous," Riki breathes out, gaze roaming your spread out form before facing the front again. "I cannot believe we get to do this."

"I fucking know, right? What are the chances?" Sunghoon chuckles, removing the car from park as he swerves onto the street. "It has to be fate, right? This is unreal,"

You wake up groggily the next morning, sunlight hitting your face uncomfortably. The second your brain catches up to you, you shoot up, looking around in panic at the unfamiliar surroundings.

You grab your phone from the nightstand and the lamp as well as you get out of bed, opening the door as quietly as possible.

Where the fuck are you? Did you get kidnapped? Oh god, it feels like you got kidnapped. How the fuck are you supposed to get out of here? No one even knows you're here.

Your thoughts race at a million miles per hour as you walk down the hall into a spacious living room.

"Oh, you're up," a voice says from behind you, and you scream, whirling around and effectively hitting them in the head with the lamp. You look down at the body, and recognition flares in your mind.

"Park Sunghoon?" you ask, confused as the man groans, "Why'd you hit me with a lamp?" he groans, holding his head as he looks up at you.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I thought I got kidnapped or something." You apologise quickly, bending down to lend him a hand up.

"Wait, did you kidnap me? Why am I in your house?" you ask quickly, pointing the lamp at him again as he stands up, taller than you'd expected.

Never in a million years could you take him in a fight.

"We agreed to let you stay here for a while, remember? Because your apartment got flooded?" Last night's conversation comes flooding back to you, and your eyes widen in shock, "Oh my god, I am so sorry," you scramble, dropping the lamp onto a nearby table before you get closer to him.

"Oh, you're up," another voice says from behind him, and Riki comes into your view, dressed in sweats and a loose tee, blonde hair poking up slightly. "Riki," you say in recognition, "Is this your house?"

"Yeah, why does Sunghoon look like he's constipated?" he asks, eyes flicking to Sunghoon, who growls, "'Cause she hit me in the head with a fucking lamp,"

"It was a mistake, I swear I didn't mean to. I thought I got kidnapped or something," you say quickly, and Riki snickers, walking past Sunghoon with a pat to his back.

You follow after Riki, glancing back at Sunghoon, who walks to the kitchen and pulls out a bag of ice from the fridge. You sit yourself at the kitchen counter, hands folded in your lap, as you look over at Sunghoon, concern etched onto your face.

"Did I hurt you too bad, Hoon-ah?" you ask softly, not even noticing the nickname that slipped out. But Sunghoon does, heart warming at the familiar nickname you'd used for him all through high school. "No, it's fine. I'd be scared too if I woke up in a strange room,"

You relax a little at that. "How long till your apartment gets fixed?" Riki asks, pouring cereal into a bowl.

"About three weeks. My landlord's a lazy asshole, so it might take even longer," you groan. Riki hums, putting the bowl of cereal in front of you with a spoon.

You thank him quietly before taking a bite, "Oh damn, this is the expensive one," you comment, looking up at both of them. Now that you think about it, their house looks like a fucking mansion, ceiling to floor windows, and lush carpets, their living room the size of your entire apartment.

"What do you do for work?" you ask, taking a bite of the delicious cereal that costs more than your rent. "I'm a plastic surgeon, and Riki here is a pretty famous choreographer," Sunghoon says, putting down the ice pack.

"Wow, so you did become a dancer, 'ki?" you say with a proud smile, and he smiles back shyly, "Yeah,"

"And a plastic surgeon? Y'all have actually done something with your lives, huh?" you tease, making Sunghoon chuckle quietly, "I guess we have. What about you?"

"I'm a producer at Hybe. It's a relatively new job, though," you say, and Riki whistles, "Hybe huh? The big shots," he says with a proud grin, and you chuckle.

It felt so easy to slip back into that comfort you had with them back in high school, back when you had been inseparable.

"You'll stay in that room. You can stay as long as you want, Y/n," Sunghoon says softly, and you nod.

"Thank you so much again for letting me stay."

"It's no problem, pretty," Riki says, hands ghosting your waist as he walks by you.

The next few days are comfortable for you. The three of you slip back into the familiarity you had before, joking around and hanging out. You're lounging on the couch, still in your short shorts and an oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder.

Riki walks into the living room, eyes landing on you. These past days have been difficult for him. All the feelings he'd buried for you back in high school resurfaced the moment he saw you in that bar.

You're still the same, still as cheery and charming as you were back then. But you're a woman now, and that charm comes with an added layer of responsibility that makes you so much more irresistible.

He thought he'd never see you again after you'd left for college, but now here you were, in his space. In his damn house, looking like that. Your smooth, honey skin is on display, the summer heat making your t-shirt stick to your body in a way that makes his mouth water and makes lust settle low in his stomach.

He's been on edge ever since you moved in, holding himself from touching you the way he wants, from taking you the way he wants to. But it's really hard when you're like this.

Your eyes flick up to his, interrupting his train of thought. "Hey, 'ki," you say sweetly, sitting up now, every movement making your boobs bounce, and Riki's eyes make a beeline down.

You notice. You have been noticing ever since you moved in.

The way he clenches his hands when you get too near, the way he gulps when you get close to him. The way his eyes always flick down to your lips mid-conversation, then further down.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't make arousal spark in your stomach.

So you decide to play around a little, wearing your thinnest shirt and shortest pants as you lounge around. "Wanna watch a movie with me?" you ask, blinking up at him as you bend down to pick up the remote.

His eyes shift down again before they snap up to meet yours. "Yeah, sure," he says, voice straining as he walks over to you.

You make space for him on the sofa, shifting just an inch too close, your bare thigh almost brushing his as you switch on some random movie. You settle into comfortable silence, the only noise being your soft giggles in between.

You sat close to him. Too close.

He can feel the warmth radiating off your body, the scent of your vanilla bodywash wafting through the humid summer air, making his mouth water with the need to taste.

He feels the familiar heat of lust settle in his stomach, hand stretching over the back of the couch behind you, fist clenched tight to stop himself from giving in and touching you.

You feel him stiffen beside you and shift closer, almost imperceptibly, but close enough to him to feel it. You lean into him, but your eyes stay focused on the screen.

He clenches his fist again, gulping as he inhales shakily. His hand slips down, fingers now grazing the hem of your shirt near your arm. You feel him stiffen beside you again and chuckle quietly, but loud enough for him to hear in the silence of the room.

"What?" he asks, looking down at you. You shift closer to him, now pressed to his side as you slide a hand over his chest. He freezes, eyes flicking from where your hand rests on his chest back to your eyes.

"You can touch, you know? I don't mind, 'ki"

The words make his breath hitch. He looks at you for permission, and you nod, settling back against the couch, "Go on."

That's all the permission he needs to slide his hand down your back, slipping it under the hem of your shirt to finally touch your skin. He groans lowly, head dipping to your exposed shoulder, nosing at the skin as he travels up to the junction between your neck and shoulder.

You sigh, melting into his touch.

"Been wanting to do that ever since I saw you in that bar," he mumbles against your neck, pressing kisses onto your skin now, hands travelling to your front now, to the curve of your waist.

He shifts, practically on top of you now, kissing up your neck and your jaw, before hovering over your lips. His eyes span to yours for permission, and you nod.

His lips crash into yours with hunger, groaning into your mouth.

Your hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss. Your fingers tangle in his long blonde hair, tugging lightly as he groans again.

You break apart, heaving, and he trails kisses down your neck, hands sliding higher and higher up your torso till his fingers brush the underside of your breasts.

He pulls back almost impatiently, shoving your shirt up to your neck, revealing your breasts. He cups them in his hands, thumb brushing over your nipples through the fabric.

"They're so pretty," he murmurs before pulling the cups down to let them spill out. He admires for a few more moments, rolling the nubs between his fingers, making you whine and whimper, before taking one into his warm mouth. He sucks and nips at the bud, making you whimper louder, hands still tangled in his hair.

" 'ki," you whine, and he pulls away with a groan, "Love it when you call me that," he breathes out with a smile, before diving between your boobs to press kisses down your stomach.

"Riki-yah," you whine again. "Sound so pretty when you whine, baby." He pressed a peck to your lips. "What do you want, pretty?" he asks, sucking a mark onto your stomach.

"W-want y-you to touch me," you mumble, and he nips at your skin in warning, "Beg sweeter, baby. I know you can," he urges, smug smile on his face.

"P-please want y-you to t-touch me, 'ki" you beg, voice climbing a pitch in desperation. "Good job, baby," he purrs, and his hand finally slips into your underwear, touching your dripping heat directly.

"So wet already, princess. All for me?" You nod frantically as he rubs your clit in tight circles. Without warning, he plunges two fingers into your heat, making you cry out.

His fingers are so long, curling into that bundle of nerves effortlessly as he pumps his fingers in and out. "Fuck, you're so tight, baby. I need to loosen you up a little to take my cock, yeah?"

You feel the familiar coil tighten in your stomach, and you grab his wrist, head tilting back, "C-close oh g-god." Just as you're about to tip over the edge, he pulls his fingers out.

You groan, glaring at him, "What the fuck, Riki?" you snap, and he crashes his lips into yours in a messy kiss to shut you up, tongues tangling as he moves to shove his pants down to free his cock.

When he finally pulls away, your eyes drop to his cock. "Fuck, you're so big," you mumble, eyes trained on the head that rests against your entrance, a maroon at the tip, leaking pre-cum. "Bigger than I've ever taken before, that's for sure," you say with an amused chuckle, and he presses in without a warning, making you gasp, "That's because no one has fucked you like I will, princess. No one," he growls as he buries himself to the hilt inside you. You cry out, back arching off the couch as he hits your sweet spot dead on.

He starts thrusting a moment later, hips snapping into yours at a brutal pace from the start, making you moan louder than ever, nails digging into his shoulder, eyes rolling back.

"Fuck you sound so pretty. Can't believe I finally get to have you like this. So tight and warm around me, princess," he growls into your ear, his hand sliding up your chest to wrap around your neck.

He doesn't squeeze yet, but the notion is enough to send a spark of heat down your spine. At a particularly brutal thrust, his fingers tighten around your neck, just a fraction. Not enough to cut off the air supply, but enough to make you feel it, enough for it to empty your head of all thoughts.

"Fuck, you clenched around me so tight. Did you like that, princess?" he smirks, "Like when I choke you, baby? Like it when you go all dumb for me?" You simply moan louder in response, and he chuckles, "I didn't expect you to be so dirty, princess. Where's the innocent class president I knew in high school, huh?"

He speeds up impossibly, grunting and groaning in your ear, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer with each perfectly angled thrust into your cunt. "C-close, close close, o-oh god," you cry out.

"Come for me, princess. Show me how you fall apart on my cock," And that is exactly what you do, coming over his cock with a sharp cry, back arching as your eyes roll back. He follows you moments later, spilling into your cunt with a loud groan.

You lie limp on the couch as he pulls out, peppering your face with kisses. "So good for me, aren't you, princess?" he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face. You nod weakly, and he chuckles softly, "Let's get you cleaned up before Sunghoon hyung gets home, yeah? Or he is going to kill me,"

You're too deep into post-orgasmic bliss to figure out the meaning of his words as he carries you to the bathroom.

But don't worry, you'll find out soon enough.

[hoonsonenonly]

My Playlist #10 - Can't live without you............................ Mi amor eres tu

𑣲⋆ Song Teaser - Puma hybrid Riki just wants to be buried between his girlfriend's thighs.

𝄞𑣲⋆ artists - riki x fem!reader 𝄞𑣲⋆ content warnings - oral fixation, oral (fem! receiving), clingy cutie riki, coming untouched 𝄞𑣲⋆ title track - still love you (todavia) by The Two Lips

𝄞𑣲⋆ Eunnie's lyrics - just a little drabble cuz puma ki has been consuming me lately

Dating Riki was like something out of a dream. Your puma was the sweetest, most loyal boyfriend ever, and he made sure to show you just how obsessed he was with you.

When you first started talking, he'd be all mysterious and nonchalant, and you thought that would translate in your relationship too. But, boy, were you wrong.

He is the total fucking opposite. He's always attached to you, his hand thrown around your waist, palm across your wrist, or even his pinky intertwined with yours.

You fucking love it, love this side of him that only comes out for you.

That man loves his cuddles. You'd just be sitting on the sofa, watching a film with Riki's head on your stomach, your fingers in his hair, his purrs echoing in the soft quietness of the room.

"Feel good, baby?" you ask gently, pecking his cheek, and he simply purrs louder in response, burying his head in your stomach. He especially loves it when you touch his ears, the fur soft in your hands.

You'd recently discovered that he might have an oral fixation of sorts. He has to have his mouth on you, 24/7.

You could be folding laundry in the living room, and he slides in behind you, mouth on your nape and neck.

You're lying on the couch, scrolling on your phone, and a few moments later, Riki's mouth is on your stomach, kissing and sucking a few marks onto honey-toned skin, while you caress his tail or his ears.

Of course, this oral fixation had translated into your sex lives. Riki loves going down on you. Absolutely loves being buried between your thighs for hours, just lapping at your sweet cunt.

At this point, it's more for his enjoyment than yours.

That's why you don't bat an eye when he slides in between your legs in the evening, both of you tired from the day. You're on your phone, scrolling mindlessly on Instagram, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt, his obviously with the way your frame drowns in it.

He hums quietly, breath ghosting over your clothed pussy, nosing at your thighs as he inhales that intoxicating smell of yours.

"You smell so good, sweetheart," he mumbles, pressing kisses onto the plush skin now, teeth nipping at the flesh in between. (Another habit of his, random biting.)

"Tired, baby?" you ask softly, hands sliding into his hair, but your eyes stay focused on the phone in your hands. "Yeah, just need you," he mumbles, breath ghosting over your cunt now.

He laps at your clothed pussy slowly, eyes fluttering shut as he lets your scent envelop him completely, lulling his mind into a state of comfort. Your scent's the strongest here, which is one of the reasons he adores eating you out.

He pushes your panties to the side impatiently, before burying his face in your pretty pussy, nosing at your clit as you sigh above him.

His tongue flicks out to finally lick a stripe up your cunt, a purr lodged in the back of his throat simply at your taste. You simply let him have his pleasure, fingers threading through his hair absentmindedly as you scroll on your phone.

He eats you out slowly, every flick of his tongue over your nub gentle, as if he's savouring each moment he gets to be buried in your cunt.

You reward him with soft sighs and whimpers, tender praises slipped out in between scrolls. Every lick of his tongue, every suck to your clit sends a sharp shock of pleasure up your spine, hips bucking into his mouth now.

"Fuck, you taste heavenly," he whines into your cunt, sending vibrations up your spine. Soon, he's purring contentedly against your pussy, hips grinding on the bed in search of some sort of relief, pornographic schlick schilck noises filling the room with how desperately he laps at your cunt.

Your phone is still in your hand, but you've stopped paying attention to it long ago. "You're doing so well for me, baby. That's it, keep going," you praise gently, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten. He somehow senses that you're close and doubles down, completely burying himself in your cunt, your slick dripping down his chin in dribble.

His hips are grinding onto the bed shamelessly, your scent and taste driving him absolutely crazy. "Could do this forever," he mutters, coming up for a breath for a second before diving back in.

"Fuck Riki-yah, s-so close, k-keep going baby," you gasp out, fingers tightening in his hair as your hips lift off the bed. You know he's close too, with the way he's whining into your cunt.

You move your hand from his hair to his ear, caressing the fur softly between your fingers. You get exactly the response you'd anticipated; Riki moaning into your cunt as you finally come with a cry, back arching off the bed, and eyes rolling back.

Riki follows close behind with a deep groan, spilling into his pants at the mere touch of your fingers to his ears.

You both collapse onto the bed, Riki's head on your thighs as you both catch your breath. After a moment, Riki pulls himself up to your face, lips puckered as you giggle.

"Feel better now?" you ask gently, and he nods, burying his face into the crook of your neck, "Much better,"

"Can't believe I came in my pants like a fucking teenager," he grumbles, making you laugh, planting a kiss to the shell of his ear, "It's okay, I take it as a compliment," you tease, which earns you a nip to your neck.

"Help me shower?" he asks quietly, looking at you with expectant eyes.

"Round 2?"

"Hell fucking yes,"

[jongst4r]

omg omg i never knew i liked finger sucking until rn!! can u please write more but with sunghoon or riki ?

also based on this other request due to its similarities 🫡

well. i have no comments. (i literally screamed)

warnings: finger sucking, dry humping, a lot of dirty talk (like, a lot), praise, mentions of spit, use of petnames, swearing.

sunghoon’s got you in his lap, thighs spread wide, your back pressed to his chest while he’s already half-hard just from the way you’re looking up at him, lips wet and needy.

he drags two fingers across your bottom lip, slow, teasing, until you open for him without a word. the second your tongue curls around them, his jaw goes slack, a shaky breath slipping out as he watches you suck him in deeper.

his free hand grips your thigh hard enough to bruise, but he doesn’t move it; he’s too busy staring, pupils blown, lips bitten raw.

“god, look at you… so fucking pretty with my fingers in your mouth,” he whispers, voice wrecked and right against your ear. “that’s it, baby, just like that… suck harder, yeah, fuck.”

you moan around his knuckles and his hips twitch up, grinding into you slow. “you’re doing so good for me. so perfect. my perfect girl.”

he can’t stop. every time your cheeks hollow he lets out another cracked praise, breath hitching.

“listen to those sounds… you have no idea what you’re doing to me… keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. let me see how much you love this.”

and, by the way his hips twitch every time your tongue presses against his fingers, you can tell he's eager for more.

“you’re gonna make me come just like this, aren’t you? just from your pretty little mouth being so greedy.”

when you take him all the way to the last knuckle, eyes locked on his, he actually whines, full-body shudder, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second before he forces himself to watch again.

“fuck… i’m obsessed with you,” he breathes, thumb brushing the spit on your lip. “i can’t think when you look this filthy and sweet at the same time.”

you hum, vibrating around his fingers, and he jerks, whispering one last broken, “please don’t stop… good girl, my good fucking girl… you’re ruining me.”

he pulls his fingers out slow, just to watch the string of spit connect your lips to his skin before it breaks. his chest is heaving like he’s been running, eyes glassy, completely fucked-out without even being inside you yet.

“open,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

you do, instantly, tongue out, waiting like you were made for it.

he groans low, sliding three fingers in this time, deeper, until you gag just a little and he curses under his breath. “fuck, yes… take it, baby. you can take it.”

your hands clutch at his thighs, nails digging in while you work him with your mouth, sloppy, loud, drooling down his hand and onto his jeans. every wet sound makes his cock throb against your lower back.

“so messy for me,” he rasps, free hand sliding up your stomach, under your shirt, thumb brushing your nipple just to feel you arch. “love when you get like this. love how fucking desperate you look with my fingers down your throat.”

you whine around him, eyes watering, and he loses it a little, hips rolling up hard, grinding shamelessly now.

“gonna come in my pants if you keep making those noises,” he mutters, head falling back for a second before snapping forward again because he refuses to miss the view. “look at me. wanna see your face when i—”

he doesn’t finish. you hollow your cheeks, suck harder, tongue pressing flat under his fingers, and he chokes on a moan, whole body locking up.

“fuck, fuck, baby—” hot pulses soak through his sweats against your ass, his grip bruising your thigh as he shakes through it, mouth open, eyes rolling back.

when he finally comes down, he’s panting into your neck, fingers still in your mouth, letting you lazily lick them clean while he catches his breath.

“you’re unreal,” he whispers, voice raw. “gonna need those lips around my cock in about thirty seconds, sweetheart. think you can handle that after wrecking me like this?”

he pulls his fingers free, smearing the mess across your swollen lips, then kisses you before dragging you into a filthy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue and groaning like he’s already ready for round two.

© jongst4r, 2025

taglist: @solonenova, @neabrownn, @drowsypanther, @redessertired, @pinkdazed

[hoonsonenonly]

My Playlist #09 - And I hope I never see what your face looks like going A face I swear that I could spend my whole life knowing

𑣲⋆ Song Teaser - Park Sunghoon has been in love with his princess ever since he knew what love meant, but can he choose his love over his duty?

𝄞𑣲⋆ artists - sunghoon x fem!reader 𝄞𑣲⋆ content warnings - nothing really lmao, slight angst, mentions of anxiety lemme know if i missed any <3 𝄞𑣲⋆ title track - honeybee by Olivia Rodrigo

𝄞𑣲⋆ Eunnie's lyrics - I LOVE OLIVIA RODRIGO 💖💖

Park Sunghoon had sworn an oath to protect the kingdom, to serve the royal family, and to remain loyal to his beloved kingdom till death took him under. But no oath could guard his heart against Princess Y/n.

You moved like a dream, gliding across the ballroom, your sapphire gown trailing behind you. Your laughter, soft yet so full of life, rang through the air as you danced with noble suitors who sought your hand.

And Sunghoon could only watch from the shadows, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

He's been smitten with you so long that he has yet to remember a time when he was not in love with you.

He had fallen for you long ago, back when you were still a girl sneaking out of her window to the castle gardens, free-spirited and untamed.

He had been an orphan then, taken in by the King and tasked with keeping you safe. He had spent countless hours by your side, all through his childhood, when you would run about the palace grounds, and you'd play pretend fight. All through his teenage years, and now, he has been by your side through adulthood. The trusted knight by your side through it all.

A knight could never love a princess. Not out loud, not in the way he wanted to. So he made do with what he had, keeping himself content in spending his life two steps behind you, content with simply existing in your world.

But fate had a cruel and twisted sense of humour, hell-bent on bringing two star-crossed lovers together at all costs.

One evening, as he patrolled the castle walls, he found you by the rose bed, crouched down as your fingers gently caressed the petals. The wind danced through your hair, left loose today, waves whirling around your face. The moonlight painted silver streaks across your face. He had seen you in elaborate silk gowns, adorned with ornate jewels fit for a queen, but never had you looked more beautiful than you do now, barefoot on the cold stone, surrounded by roses that seemed to bow to you as if they worshipped their princess as well.

"You avoid me," you whispered into the crisp night air as he neared.

"My duty is to protect you, princess, not to be near you," he said, though the slight shake in his voice betrayed him. You do not meet his gaze when you say, "And what if I ask you to stay?"

"You are meant for a prince, not a knight, your highness," he says bitterly. Your highness, the way he addresses you only when he's trying not to cross the line he's drawn between you two ever since you've known the meaning of love.

He looked down at you with sorrow, the kind he's carried with him over the past decade, "I am just your loyal servant, princess. I do not have a crown to marry you. All I have is my sword to protect you, my lady."

"I do not need for you to have a crown, Sunghoon-ssi, for your sword is what draws me in," you reply simply, still crouched down in front of the roses. Sunghoon's breath hitched.

Every rule he'd ever followed, every oath of chivalry, of placing duty above desire, all of it crumbled beneath the weight of one truth that had haunted him half his life.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to hold you close. To be yours.

But knights did not have the pleasure of doing so. So instead, he stepped forward slowly and sank to one knee beside you, not in submission, but in utter reverence. "You should not say things like that, m'lady," he whispered, voice rougher than steel dragged over stone.

"Why not?" you ask quietly, rising from your crouched position on shaky legs, daring a glance down at him. Sunghoon tilts his chin up to meet your eyes, "Because," he begins softly, "if I let myself believe you mean it......I won't be able to stop." The confession slips out like a secret too dangerous to be put into words. An unbearable tension stretched between two hearts beating too loud to be hidden.

Every instinct in Sunghoon's body screamed at him to rise, to close the distance, and hold you in his arms, claim your lips like a man starved of light finally meeting the sunrise.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

So instead, his eyes dropped to your mouth for half a second too long, then flickered back up to yours with a quiet torment burning behind his gaze.

"What if I do not wish for you to?"

Sunghoon's breath stopped. Your whisper, soft as rose petals, but sharp at the thorns on its stem, pierced through all the walls he'd built around his heart.

A confession in disguise from a woman who held his very soul in her hands and had not an inkling of how tightly she gripped it.

"Sunghoon-ah," you drawl sweetly, the scent of the roses wafting through the chilly night air as you step closer, locking eyes with him through the slit in his helmet, moonlight glinting off the metal.

The moment his name left your mouth, softened by your lips, something in him shattered. His breath came uneven now, shallow beneath the weight of the armour and heavier still beneath the weight of wanting.

"I still remember us, you know? When we didn't bear the weight of these titles and were just kids, running around and getting in trouble. You were the same back then too," you say with a chuckle, "still as protective as you are now, always the first to comfort me, the first to kiss my tears away."

Your eyes soften as you continue, memories flashing in front of your eyes of warm afternoons spent running around the field, swimming in the lake down the hill, all the laughter that still echoes under that tree you'd made home when the palace was too much. You'd been kids, and he's still been the same. Even as a teenager, he was your only safe place.

Sunghoon’s chest tightened.

Every word you spoke was a dagger wrapped in velvet, painful, beautiful, unbearable.

And now here she stood, the same girl who once cried into his shoulder, draped in silk and crowns meant for others.

But still his. In every way that mattered, not because of duty or oath or kingdom rules, but because she had always chosen him, long before either understood love properly.

"You've always been mine, Sunghoon-ah. My best friend. My safe place. Mine," you state, voice dripping with a kind of conviction that made Sunghoon's heart skip a beat.

The words hit him like a lightning strike, devastating in the damage it caused. Mine.

Not my knight. Not my protector. But mine.

Your voice, possessive, tender, and absolute in a way that made his head spin, and God, did it shatter every defense he’d ever built.

For years, he’d told himself this couldn’t be. That love between princess and knight was forbidden by custom, by duty, by the very laws of the kingdom carved in stone. That you deserved palaces and crowns and suitors with bloodlines worthy of royalty, not a man who slept on cold floors during watch shifts and sharpened his sword at dawn while you breakfasted among silk cushions.

But here you were, claiming him anyway. Like nothing had changed since those childhood days when your tiny hand clung to his as if he were her whole world, and maybe, just maybe, she still thought that way?

You watch him freeze up in front of him, going tense as he does when you tiptoe the line he's drawn so carefully for years. You'd watched him pull away from you, slowly but surely, and the distance makes you ache. Because you're not teenagers anymore, both of you have responsibilities you can't ignore. But it hurts, hurts not having him close like you once did, hurts watching his gaze crawl over your skin all the time as if he's touching you with his stares, hurts knowing he can never be yours again, not in the way he was.

He knew it too. Oh God, he knew how much this hurt you, but what could he do? If he crossed that line, if one day his self-control broke. What if one night, like this one, he finally kissed you?

There would be no going back for either of them.

"It hurts, Sunghoon-ah," you say softly, lowering your gaze to the wet grass under your feet, side-stepping him to walk back to the palace. The moment you stepped away, something in Sunghoon snapped.

Quietly, like a man realizing too late that the one thing he swore to protect, the person who mattered more than duty or honour, was slipping through his fingers because he was too afraid to hold on.

The castle halls were quiet at this hour; most servants had retired, and the guards on night watch stood like statues at their posts. The only sound was the gentle plat-plat of your bare feet on cold marble, echoing softly up the grand staircase.

Each step felt heavier than the last.

Tears pricked your eyes again, not from sadness alone, but from frustration. From helplessness. You didn't want crowns or princes or royal balls filled with empty flattery and political matches arranged by advisors. You just wanted him.

Your Sunghoon, the boy who once ran through fields chasing fireflies with you under summer skies. You glanced back only once, a fleeting look over your shoulder, and yet it felt like tearing open an old wound. He looked so small from this distance, despite his towering height and knightly frame.

Just… left behind. Like he belonged among roses and shadows while you walked toward duty that would eventually bind you to someone else forever.

The guards at your chamber door straightened as they saw their princess approaching, but all Y/n wanted was to collapse onto her bed and cry for the man who refused to be hers.

You curl up into yourself on the floor of your room, soft moonlight filtering in through your curtains. The rose scent drifted through the open balcony window, intoxicating and cruel, because it reminded you of him. Of the garden. Of his eyes on you under moonlight.

This pain wasn’t new. It had been building for years, every time he bowed too deeply instead of meeting your gaze; every time duty called and he vanished without explanation; every ball where foreign princes danced with you while Sunghoon stood rigid by the wall like a statue carved from stone.

But tonight felt final. Like maybe this was it, the moment fate decided they could no longer be close without consequences too heavy to bear. A quiet sob escaped before you could stop it, then another, and soon tears spilled freely down your cheeks, soaking into silk fabric as wind whispered through lace curtains.

The next morning, you wake up later than usual, dragging yourself out of bed. You glance at your reflection in the mirror, hair tousled and tangled, dark eye bags under your eyes, nose and eyes stained red from all your crying.

You take a deep breath in, settling the nausea growing in your stomach, the way it does each morning when you wake up in your lavish bed and are reminded of the responsibilities that have been placed on your shoulders.

You're dressed 30 minutes later in a comparatively lightweight yellow dress, jewellery glinting in the morning sunlight as you walk down the halls, a smile plastered on your face, greeting the staff as you pass.

You enter the empty dining room, as it always is, because your family rarely ate together, and sit down at the table as the maid brings out your breakfast. You hear the sharp click of boots behind you, slow and calculated, unmistakably Sunghoon.

Sunghoon had entered the dining room like a shadow: silent, imposing. His armor wasn’t fully on today, just a polished breastplate over a dark tunic, and his sword at his hip. Morning light from the arched windows gilded him in gold as he stood there for one heartbeat, then two.

Then came the soft thud of him sinking to one knee beside your chair, "Good morning, Your Highness," he said. His voice was even. Respectful. Professional with nothing lingering from last night's quiet intimacy.

"Good morning," you say softly, a small smile appearing on your face despite yourself. It's not often you get to see him without his armour and helmet, and the sight of his face brings a smile to your lips.

The same face that had cried when you had, that had crumbled when you'd fight, that had lit up when you got him extra pastries from breakfast, the same face that had brought you comfort, and still it does.

You glance up at him, your eyes a little more hollow than they were before. You try to hide it, the ache in your chest, the hollow in your stomach, but Sunghoon saw everything, and God, it gutted him.

He had always been able to read you better than anyone, since childhood, when a single frown from you made him drop whatever he was doing and rush to check on what was wrong.

Now? Now seeing that dimmed light in your gaze, your usual spark dulled, felt worse than any battlefield wound. His chest tightened as he remained kneeling beside your chair, his dark eyes tracing every detail: the yellow dress (too bright for how pale she looked), her messy hair half-tamed into a loose bun (she hadn’t let maids fuss over it this morning), those red-tinged lashes. Last night flashed behind his mind, the rose garden, her whispering

He hadn’t slept. Not really. After you left the garden last night, he’d stayed there for hours, standing beneath the moon like a fool, hoping you might return. When he finally retired to his quarters, he just stared at the ceiling until dawn crept in through narrow windows.

Now here you both were, sitting across from each other, but worlds apart physically and emotionally alike. A servant entered with fresh tea for His Highness's breakfast and quietly placed it on your right side.

"Thank you, Masie," you say with a smile, and she smiles back at you, walking away. You hear another pair of footsteps echo in the hall, and your advisor walks in, a tall, imposing lady named Yoo-jin. You straighten up immediately, wringing your hands together as you look up at her with a polite smile, "Good morning, Yoo-jin-ssi"

"Good morning, Your Highness," she said coolly. Her gaze flickered briefly toward Sunghoon, still kneeling beside you, and something unreadable passed through her expression. Disapproval? Calculation? It was hard to tell.

She opens up her book, and you inhale sharply, bracing for her to dictate stuff you in no way, shape, or form wanted to do. She begins rambling on about a ball you were to attend tonight, "Tonight's ball will host ambassadors from the Northern Province," she began. "You are expected to attend. The royal family must make an impression."

You nodded stiffly, gripping your teacup tighter.

Then came the worst part.

"And this afternoon," Yoo-jin continued without looking up, "you will meet with Minister Kim Ho-yoon for tea at two o'clock sharp. He has requested a private audience regarding… marriage proposals."

Your blood ran cold. Kim Ho-yoon, the man known for leering at women, the one who’d been caught making inappropriate remarks about female courtiers, the creep who treated marriage negotiations as though he was choosing livestock instead of humans.

You take a deep breath in, steadying the growing nausea in your stomach, and putting the polite smile back on your face. "Is that all?" you ask, taking a sip of your tea.

"For now," she replied coolly, standing gracefully. "Your morning schedule is clear; you may use it as you wish before preparing for tea with Minister Ho-yoon at two."

She gave a small nod, not quite warm, not quite respectful, and turned toward the door without another word. The heavy click of her heels echoed through the dining hall as she left.

You exhale, eyes fluttering shut as you place the tea cup back on the saucer with a loud clink.

You closed your eyes, just for a second, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The moment Yoo-jin left, the air changed. Like all the tension that had coiled around your chest could finally move, even if it was only to twist tighter.

Sunghoon remained on his knee beside you, not speaking yet, not moving unless permitted, but his presence filled every inch of space between you two. He saw how pale your face had gone. How stiffly you sat now that no one demanded performance from royalty anymore.

Without asking permission, breaking protocol entirely, a large hand reached up and gently covered yours where it rested on the table.

His hand was warm.

Calloused from years of gripping swords, training with steel, but gentle. So painfully gentle the way it covered your smaller one on the table.

You didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch or gasp, just exhaled again, deeper this time, as if his touch had flipped a switch in your body. Safe, you were safe now.

Your heartbeat slowed from its frantic rhythm, the panic over Kim Ho-yoon fading into background noise beneath Sunghoon’s quiet presence beside you. The morning light spilled across both of you; golden streaks fell over his dark hair and sharp jawline that always looked so serious, but right now held something softer.

He stayed silent, but his thumb moved. Slowly, gently, almost reverently, he brushed it across the back of your hand in a single soft stroke. A small comfort. The kind he used to give when you were children after scraped knees or nightmares or crying over unrequited love for boys who weren't worth it.

You nod slowly, eyes fluttering open as you withdraw your hand to grip your tea cup once again, bring it up to your lips, and you down the drink in one gulp.

The halls were quiet as you walked back toward your chambers, bare feet making no sound on the marble.

Behind you, Sunghoon followed without a word. His boots clicked steadily, following like an invisible shadow bound by something deeper than duty, worry, concern, the unspoken need to make sure you were okay.

Without turning to him, you walked toward your bedroom door, the one carved with delicate vines and blooming roses (your mother had chosen it; she liked things beautiful but impersonal). Sunghoon stopped just short of following you inside.

The door to your chambers stood slightly ajar, likely opened by a maid earlier for cleaning. You pushed it gently, the wood swinging inward with soft silence.

Your room greeted you, vast, elegant, impeccably arranged. Silk drapes fluttered in the morning breeze from the open balcony doors; fresh flowers (white lilies) sat on your vanity, a gift from one of yesterday’s suitors you didn’t even remember.

It was perfect. Cold perfection. A princess's cage disguised as luxury. You mutter a quiet thank you to him before you push the door open wider, stepping inside. Sunghoon didn’t respond to your quiet "thank you"; he just dipped his chin slightly, a small gesture of acknowledgment.

The room settled into quiet.

You curled onto the massive canopy bed, still dressed in your yellow gown, jewelry glinting dully against silk sheets, and closed your eyes. But sleep didn’t come easily. Not with Minister Ho-yoon’s leering face flashing behind your eyelids, not with the suffocating weight of court expectations pressing down on you like stone.

Your body twisted and turned, tossing under restless blankets as dreams tangled. Palace halls turning to mazes, suitors chasing you through them, shouting names that weren't yours, then nothing but darkness swallowing everything.

Eventually, exhaustion won over anxiety. Your breathing slowed into shallow sleep, the kind that wasn't peaceful at all, the only kind you had gotten for the past few years.

Sunghoon remained outside the door, not moving. He stared at that half-open door, the space between you and him like a silent question: Can I come in? Should I?

But you hadn’t closed it, which meant something. Maybe trust. Maybe loneliness too deep to voice aloud. Without making a sound, he stepped forward, slowly pushing the door wider with one hand, and peered inside.

You looked small on the enormous bed, curled into yourself beneath layers of silk and blankets that hadn’t been properly tucked around you.

Your breathing was shallow, not peaceful. Even in sleep, your brow had a faint crease, as if you were still troubled by dreams.

He approached quietly, his boots muffled by thick carpet. Stopping beside the bed, he simply looked at you, really looked. Your messy bun was half undone from tossing; one earring was slightly crooked; your cheeks were pale with exhaustion.

And for a moment, Sunghoon allowed himself the quiet luxury of just looking, no duties, no titles, no distance between you two. His y/n.

The girl who used to sneak into his room as a child when she had nightmares and climb right into his bed without asking. He remembered the warmth of her small body pressed against his side while he hummed lullabies from the nursery songs his mother sang.

Now she was a princess, and yet here she lay, tired, overwhelmed, still so human beneath all the crowns. Without thinking too hard about it (because if he thought, guilt would stop him), Sunghoon reached out and gently brushed a loose strand of hair out of your forehead, fingers surprisingly tender for someone who wielded swords and sparred with soldiers twice his size.

The gesture was small, instinctive in a way Sunghoon didn't understand. A knight should not touch royalty like this, but then again, you weren't just any princess to him. You were the girl who cried when he got injured, the one who shared her dessert with him when no one else would sit beside the orphaned stable boy.

His thumb grazed your temple lightly, checking for a fever (an old habit), then lingered, just a moment too long, as if memorizing the softness of your skin under morning light.

Your tense muscles unwound. A soft sigh escaped your lips as warmth spread where he’d brushed your forehead. The crease between your brows vanished completely, smoothing out like ripples calming on a pond. Your breathing deepened slightly, not quite peaceful sleep yet, but closer to it.

For the first time since waking up that morning, you looked at ease.

Sunghoon froze, not because he regretted touching you (he never would), but because seeing this effect, the way his simple touch soothed every trace of pain from your face. It undid him.

That tiny sigh of yours, so quiet, so unconscious, hit him like a punch to the chest. It wasn’t dramatic or loud, but it meant something. A subconscious trust. Your body recognizes his presence as safe and comforting.

And God, he hadn't realized how much he’d missed this closeness, the kind that didn’t need words or permission.

Slowly, carefully, Sunghoon sat on the edge of your bed, just sitting there in silence while morning light painted gold streaks across his face. Then, gently, he took one corner of the blanket and pulled it up over your shoulders.

He didn't move. Didn't breathe too loud. Didn't adjust his posture or shift the weight on the mattress, because even a small movement might disturb you, and right now, nothing was more important than seeing you rest peacefully for once.

Sunghoon’s eyes traced every part of your face, the curve of your nose, lashes resting against cheeks that weren’t red from crying anymore, and he thought:

I would burn kingdoms to keep her safe. I would betray my oath if it meant she could sleep without pain.

Your face tightened again. The smoothness vanished, replaced by a faint frown as you curled tighter into yourself, seeking warmth or safety in sleep. Your breath hitched slightly—not quite panicked, but uneasy… troubled by dreams he couldn't see.

Sunghoon’s heart clenched. The peace was gone, just like that. He didn't hesitate this time. Without thinking, Sunghoon leaned down slowly and pressed the lightest kiss to your forehead.

And just like that, something shifted. Your breathing evened out again, and the crease between your brows smoothed once more as if his quiet affection had chased away whatever nightmare threatened you in sleep.

Sunghoon stayed close after pulling back, still hovering over you slightly on one knee beside the bed. The kiss had been instinctive, a reflex born from years of caring for you in every silent way: watching over you during fevers as children, staying up late to make sure no intruders got near your chambers when storms kept everyone awake.

But this? This felt different. More intimate. More dangerous.

Because it wasn’t duty anymore. It was love. And love was forbidden. Your father would never allow it. The court would riot. Your mother might cry over propriety being shattered.

So Sunghoon buried this feeling deep, every day, for years, pretending it didn’t exist whenever you smiled at him or called his name too sweetly. But right now? He let himself feel it, just for a second.

Every breath you took was precious to him. Every small shift of your body under the blanket sent a wave of tenderness through him that he could never express out loud.

"Hoon-ah," you call out, voice soft, sleepy, barely above a whisper, cut through the quiet like sunlight breaking through clouds. Without hesitation, Sunghoon answered.

Not with words, but by leaning in again, closer this time. He cupped your face gently with one large hand and pressed another kiss. This time softly on your cheek.

"Want you closer," you murmur, your voice a drowsy plea, soft, vulnerable, "please". You were half-asleep and reaching for him without even realizing it. Without fear of protocol or consequences, Sunghoon carefully slid onto the bed beside you.

He moved slowly so as not to jostle the mattress too much or wake you fully, then gently wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled your sleeping form against his chest.

Sunghoon held you like something fragile, precious beyond measure. Your head rested against his chest, right over his heart, a steady rhythm as constant as the rising sun. His strong arm curled securely around your waist, anchoring you in warmth and safety.

You fit perfectly against him, the curve of your body molding into the solid line of his frame. The scent of lavender from your shampoo mixed with the morning air clung to his armor-free tunic.

And for once, neither had to pretend. He listened to the soft sound of your breathing, felt the rise and fall of your chest against him, and something deep inside him settled, a peace he hadn't known since childhood.

Your head quietens for the first time in weeks as he pulls you closer, the warmth of his body making you feel at ease in his cage you called your home. But you couldn't help the way it tugged at your heart, the fact that all of this could never truly be yours.

He could never truly be yours. But you refused to let this bond go unnoticed, not without fighting to make it known. "Hoon-ah...." you begin, voice sleep-riddled and soft in the quiet of the room.

"Do you not want this?" you ask quietly, hesitant in a way you've never been with him before. The question hit Sunghoon like a blade to the chest. His arms tightened around you instantly, not harshly, but fiercely, like his body answered before his mind could form words.

Then, voice low and rough with emotion, he finally spoke, "No," he said softly, but firmly, "I do."

"Do you not want me?"

Sunghoon’s breath stopped. Like he could ever say no to you. Like his entire being hadn’t been yours since childhood, the day he carried your scraped knee back to the castle without being told to.

Without hesitation, he turned his face slightly and pressed a kiss right on your forehead. "No, don't do this again, please," you say, voice cracking with emotion, "You always kiss me like this, and then leave, distance yourself from me."

Your voice cracked, and that sound, it tore through him like nothing else ever had. The pain in your words wasn’t just sadness. It was hurt. Betrayal. The kind that came from being kissed with tenderness only to be pushed away afterward.

"You go right back to playing the knight, and then I'm left crying over something that could've been," you go on, tears lining your eyes now. "Tell me once and for all, do you want me or not, Park Sunghoon, because I cannot go on playing this game with you,"

Sunghoon didn’t breathe. The air between you turned thick, not with silence anymore, but with urgency and truth hanging over both of you like a storm about to break. He looked into your eyes and finally spoke.

Sunghoon turned fully toward you, still holding your face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. His eyes, dark, intense, usually so controlled, burned with something raw.

"I want you," he said, "I’ve loved you since we were children," Sunghoon admitted, each word slow, heavy with truth. His thumb traced your cheekbone again, wiping away a fresh tear that fell.

"I stayed away because I thought I had to stay away," he continued quietly. "You are royalty. I am nothing, just the stable boy who became strong enough to guard you."

"But I have loved you anyway," Sunghoon whispered, voice breaking just slightly, something rare for someone so disciplined. "Every time you laughed in the courtyard, every time you fell asleep reading under the tree and I had to carry you back, every single day since we were fourteen years old, I have loved you."

His hands slid from your cheeks down to cradle either side of your face.

"And if that means losing my place as knight, or facing anger from the king…" He took a shaky breath. "I do not care," he whispers, leaning in slowly, and closes the distance between your lips and his.

The kiss was soft. Tender. A first real kiss from a man who loved you with everything he had, pouring years of hidden feelings into one quiet moment. His lips moved gently against yours, not demanding, just gentle.

You melt into him without a second thought, as if your body had been waiting for this exact moment, handing yourself over to him, body and soul. Sunghoon felt it, the way you melted. Your lips parting slightly under his, your body leaning into him like gravity itself pulled you together after years of separation.

It shattered him all over again.

His hands slid into your hair, careful, reverent, as he deepened the kiss just a fraction; still soft, but hungrier now that he knew you wanted this too. The kiss deepened slowly, naturally, like breathing.

You pull away, heaving, eyes fluttering open as they met his, wide, dazed, breathless. Sunghoon’s face was inches from yours, his dark eyes searching your own with a mix of awe, wonder, and love so pure it almost hurt.

Then you broke out into a wide smile, the kind that made your eyes crinkle at the corners, and your dimples peek out.

Sunghoon stared. That smile, your real, unguarded, radiant smile, the one you hadn’t shown anyone in years because court life had drained the joy out of you, hit him like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Your eyes crinkled at the corners. Your dimples appeared, two perfect little dips on each cheek that he’d only seen as a child when you laughed freely.

And now, it was his. This moment. This happiness. Something inside Sunghoon cracked wide open, not with sadness this time, but overwhelming love so fierce his chest ached.

He didn't say anything. He just smiled back. "You are so stubborn, Park Sunghoon," you whisper teasingly, leaning into him again, brushing your nose against his. Sunghoon’s smile softened into something tender, fond, even as you teased him. "Stubborn?" he repeated quietly, voice warm with amusement, "Me?"

"Yes, you!" you say, giggling, and Sunghoon’s heart did something stupid when he heard. And it was because of him.

You were laughing at him, teasing him, and you looked so beautiful like this: cheeks pink with joy, eyes sparkling with mischief. Driven purely by affection, he cupped your face again and kissed the tip of your nose.

Soft little kisses all over your face, your nose, each cheekbone (right where your dimples were), then finally, one gentle press right on the corner of your mouth. This was affection. Pure and simple, him savoring every part of you now that he could touch freely.

"I'm so happy I could cry," you whisper, chuckling as you cup his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek gently.

Your thumb stroked his cheek, so softly, so lovingly, and the way you looked at him, like he was something precious, something yours, it made his eyes sting.

Those words wrapped around his heart and squeezed. Tears welled up in Sunghoon’s dark eyes, just one or two threatening to spill, but he didn’t blink them away.

Sunghoon didn’t hide it. A single drop rolled down his cheek, glistening under the morning light, before your thumb brushed it away.

He didn’t cry often. But right now? With you holding his face like this, loving him so openly. All those years of silent love and sacrifice poured into that one quiet tear.

"Awwww, don't cry, my baby," you coo gently, wiping away the tear that rolled down his cheek. Sunghoon closed his eyes and leaned fully into your hand. Your palm was warm. Your thumb was still gently brushing his skin, tracing the curve of his cheekbone like you were memorizing every detail of him. And that tone, so sweet, so affectionate, unraveled something deep inside.

A soft sound escaped him, almost a whimper, but not quite. Then he opened his eyes again, dark lashes damp with emotion, lips slightly parted, not crying anymore, but utterly vulnerable.

You surge up and press a chaste kiss to his lips, trying to soothe him.

Sunghoon melted. The kiss was so soft. Not passionate, not hungry, just a gentle press of your lips against his, warm and tender like a balm for the ache in his heart. And God, that simple act shattered whatever fragile control he had left.

"I love you, Park Sunghoon," you say softly, and you knew how you looked at him, like he'd hung the stars and the moon, but you weren't ashamed of it, because for you, he had.

Sunghoon pulled you into a crushing embrace. No words. No hesitation. Just love, overwhelming, fierce, desperate love pouring out of him like a floodgate had broken.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your skin in quick, frantic kisses, on your shoulder, collarbone, jaw, anywhere he could reach.

And then, he found his voice. "I love you," he whispered raggedly into your hair, "So much… Y/n"

You wrap your hands around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you caress him softly

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, leaning into your touch like a cat basking in sunlight. Every stroke of your fingers through his hair made him sigh, soft, contented sounds escaping him without thought. He’d never been pampered before. Never allowed to just be held and cared for like this.

But you were giving it to him freely. The man who carried swords now rested quietly in the arms of the princess he loved.

His own hands slid down your back slowly, not demanding anything, just holding you close while savoring each caress.

"Stay?" you ask softly, still holding him tightly in your arms, as you couldn't bear the thought of letting him go now that you finally get to hold him like this.

"Always, princess,"

[heebunnii]

unrelated 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

pairing :: nishimura riki x reader warnings :: maybe a bit too dialogue heavy, petnames, sick!riki, established relationship, ni-ki and reader live together, clingy!riki, hurt/comfort, light angst, fluff, very domestic, slice of life(?), implied size diff a/n :: first fic that’s not a smau who cheered… however this is not proofread,, sidenote i live for sick clingy riki👀 w/c :: 2.8k

the first thing you notice when you wake up is that the apartment is unusually quiet.

normally, by the time you’d made coffee, ni-ki would’ve already wandered into the kitchen complaining about how the smell was way too strong this early. at the very least, you’d have felt his arms tight around your waist and his lips snug against your neck as you busied yourself and tried your very hardest to feign annoyance. 

but today, he was still asleep, which really should’ve been your first clue.

the second came as soon as you stepped into your bedroom and found him buried beneath the duvet, blonde hair sticking up in every direction, cheeks flushed a little pink against the pillow. the room was still dim, the curtains only half-open, letting strips of pale morning light fall across the rumpled blankets.

you frowned.

“riki?” you whispered, met with only a soft hum, seeped in fatigue.

“baby.”

one eye cracked open, the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead now visible as he stirred awake.

“…morning.”

his voice was rough, even more so than usual. you crossed the room quickly and rested the back of your hand against his forehead. he immediately leaned into the touch before he seemed to realize what he’d done.

“…’m fine.” he groaned, after having seen the worry etched across your brow.

you giggled quietly under your breath, his persistent observance ever present.

you’d long since learned that taking care of riki was a rare privilege. he was endlessly attentive when it came to you, almost instinctively so. he’d notice the way your shoulders tensed after a difficult day before you even realised it yourself, quietly plucking your mug from your hands and bundling you up into his chest.

if your phone was low on battery (as it always was), he’d have already plugged it in beside the sofa. if you mentioned craving something once in passing, it’d somehow appear in the kitchen a few days later, and he’d act none the wiser, save for the proud grin tugging at his face.

loving you came naturally to him, woven into all the little things he did without expecting so much as a thank you.

but when the roles were reversed, he suddenly became impossible.

every headache was “just a headache.” every cough was “nothing.” every scrape would earn an absent-minded “i’m fine,” before he was already asking if you’d remembered to eat lunch or whether you’d packed a jacket. somewhere along the way, he’d convinced himself that caring for you was second nature, but being cared for in return was an inconvenience.

it was almost amusing, really.

the same boy who could read the slightest crease between your brows from across the room somehow believed he could hide a fever while radiating heat. and even now, feeling him instinctively lean into your touch before catching himself, only to immediately reassure you instead of the other way around, told you everything you needed to know.

“you’re literally burning up.”

“’m always warm baby, you know that.” he whispered, flashing you another one of his lazy smiles as he pulled your hand down from his forehead, planting a small kiss on your wrist.

“not like this.” you huffed, pulling back your hand gently.

he sighed dramatically into his pillow at the loss.

“betrayed by my own forehead.”

he lost the argument about staying home after approximately four minutes, mostly because halfway through insisting he could “totally still go out,” he’d had to stop to have a spluttered coughing fit.

now he was wrapped in one of his hoodies, sitting on the couch with a blanket over his legs, looking deeply offended by the existence of the medicine you were desperately trying to feed him.

“it’s grape flavoured.” you pleaded, eyes wide, purposefully jutting out your lower lip in attempt to convince him.

“…i don’t trust it.” he muttered, his face contorting into a pout of his own to mirror yours, his eyes sparkling with affection, even as he blatantly mocked you.

“it’s literally medicine.” you uttered, a scowl replacing your practiced pout. even when you were glowering at him, riki still thought you looked adorable.

“exactly.” he stated, smirking now.

you raised an eyebrow.

“open.”

he looked at you. then at the spoon, then back at you.

“…this feels like bullying.”

“open.” you said again, feigning sternness.

“…mean.” he huffed as he opened his mouth wide anyway.

you figured that would be the end of it, but of course, it wasn’t.

you carried your mug into the kitchen to rinse it out. a minute later, you heard soft footsteps behind you. turning around, you found riki standing in the doorway, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, sleepy eyes fighting to stay just half open.

“…what’s the matter, baby?”

he blinked.

“…nothing.” he said after a pause.

“did you need something?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion.

“…no.” he simply stated, now slumped against the doorway, content to just be in your presence.

“…okay.” 

you only hummed, turning back to the sink as warm water ran over your hands. the apartment settled into a comfortable silence again, broken only by the quiet clink of ceramic against the drying rack and the steady rain tapping against the windows.

once you’d finished, you dried your hands on the tea towel slung over your shoulder and wandered back into the living room, brushing past riki in the doorway.

a second later, you heard the familiar shuffle of socked feet behind you. you smiled to yourself, god he’s so clingy when he’s sick.

riki trailed after you without a word, blanket still draped around his shoulders and the sleeves of your hoodie hanging well past his hands. he still looked half asleep, blinking slowly as he followed you into the room before automatically settling onto the sofa next to you with a quiet sigh.

you tucked one leg beneath you and opened your laptop, intending to answer the handful of emails you’d been putting off all morning. every so often, you’d glance up to find him already looking in your direction, only for his gaze to lazily drift elsewhere the moment you noticed.

five minutes passed peacefully before you remembered your charger was still sitting on the bedside table. with a small sigh, you pushed yourself off the sofa and headed back down the hall.

soft footsteps.

you glanced over your shoulder. there he was.

“…why are you following me?”

he frowned.

“…i’m not.”

“riki.” you giggled, a fond grin overtaking your face one again. 

“i was just walking.”

“in the exact same direction as me… at the exact same time?” you quipped, eyes scrunched in amusement.

“‘s just a coincidence. don’t flatter yourself, princess.” he mutters under his breath, embarrassment somehow making his face redder than it already was.

you couldn’t stop smiling as you stepped toward him and took his hand, leaning up to press a kiss to his flushed cheek, avoiding his lips in fear of also catching whatever illness has him in this delirious state. he notices immediately, dramatic pout steadily forming as you drag him to your bedroom.

about an hour earlier, you’d finally managed to coax him into taking the medicine after a long stretch of half-hearted complaining and dramatic muttering into your shoulder. now, the worst of his stubbornness had melted into something quieter and softer, sleepiness curling in slow waves through his body as he eventually gave in to rest.

you’d ended up on the sofa together, your laptop balanced carefully on your thighs, a half-finished email open on the screen, while riki had drifted into sleep pressed against your side. at some point, he’d turned into you properly, head heavy against your shoulder, one arm loosely draped over your waist as if even unconscious he didn’t want any distance between you.

you hadn’t minded. you’d just adjusted slightly, careful not to wake him, and continued typing with one hand, occasionally pausing when he shifted or let out a small sleepy sound against your hoodie.

but eventually, the emails piled up again in your mind, and the washing machine reminder you’d set earlier blinked quietly from your phone screen. you tried to move gently at first, slowly easing your arm out from under his weight. he barely reacted, just making a low, incoherent sound of protest in his sleep and tightening his grip for a second before loosening again.

it took a bit more effort than you expected, carefully sliding out from beneath his head, adjusting the blanket so it wouldn’t slip off him, brushing stray strands of hair away from his forehead as he stayed completely asleep, unaware of the quiet disruption.

only once you were sure he was settled and still breathing evenly did you finally manage to stand, stretching your stiff shoulders with a quiet breath before heading down the hall and into the laundry room.

“…hey.” he groaned a few minutes later.

you turned, surprised. riki was leaning against the doorframe with his hair, yet again, sticking up in every direction, his hoodie crumpled as he stood, looking genuinely confused.

“…what’s wrong?”

“nothing.”

“…then why are you here?”

“don’t know.” he sniffled, wiping his nose against his sleeve. you didn’t grimace at the action only due to that fact that he sounded as confused as you were.

“…i think i just… walked.”

you laughed under your breath.

“you’ve been doing that all morning.” you cooed, finally feeling like you were beginning to understand.

“doing what?” 

“following me.”

“i haven’t.” he muttered through his steadily forming pout.

“really?”

he nodded immediately, your heart throbbing with adoration as he sniffled again.

“i’m just… standing here.”

“in every room i walk into.”

“…coincidence.”

“again?”

“…really weird coincidence.”

you shook your head, smiling to yourself as you poured the detergent into the drawer.

“come and sit down over here before you fall over.”

“i’m not gonna fall over.” he punctuated the sentence with a yawn so wide his eyes watered.

“…right.”

“that was unrelated.” you hummed in response.

he lingered in the doorway for another few seconds before slowly wandering back toward the sofa. or so you thought. you finished loading the washing machine, pressed start, and headed into your bedroom to put away the clean clothes you’d folded earlier. the basket was balanced against your hip as you opened the wardrobe.

shirts. jumpers. jeans.

you were halfway through hanging one of ni-ki’s hoodies when you heard it again. his soft footsteps. you didn’t even bother turning around this time.

“…hi.”

“hi, baby.” he groaned into the blanket still wrapped around him, looking at you from across the room with sleepy watery eyes.

“did you forget something?”

“…maybe.”

you smiled to yourself.

“what’d you forget?”

a pause.

“…i don’t remember.”

finally, you looked over your shoulder. he was standing in exactly the same spot he’d occupied in every other room that day. arms tucked beneath the blanket. hair falling into his eyes. he looked impossibly sleepy, blinking slowly as if staying awake had become a full-time job.

“baby.”

he only hummed in response.

“come here.”

he obeyed without hesitation, shuffling across the room until he was standing close enough that the blanket brushed against your legs. you reached up, brushing his fringe back from his forehead. still warm. his eyes slipped shut the second your fingers touched his hair.

“you’re still burning up.” you whispered, suddenly feeling bad for all of his shuffling around.

“’m better.” he groaned into your shoulder, face now falling into the crook of your neck as you tried to hold him up.

“you’ve been saying that for the whole day.”

“because it’s true.”

“is it?”

“…no.”

you smiled softly.

“thought so.” you muttered, gently pushing him off of you to get a better look at him again. he swayed ever so slightly where he stood, you rested your hands on his arms to steady him.

“c’mon.”

“where?”

“the sofa.”

“why?”

“because you’re falling asleep standing up.”

“…i can multitask.”

“sleeping and standing aren’t multitasking.”

“they could be.”

you giggled again, and even in his haze, riki thought he’d never hear a sweeter sound. you guided him slowly back into the living room. the rain outside had picked up again, tapping steadily against the windows while the washing machine hummed faintly down the hall. the apartment felt warm despite the weather, smelling faintly of coffee and laundry detergent.

riki sat where you pointed him, immediately curling into the corner of the sofa with the blanket pulled all the way up to his chin. you disappeared into the kitchen for less than a minute to refill his water bottle. when you came back… he was gone.

“…riki?”

“in here.”

his voice drifted from the kitchen. you walked in to find him leaning against the counter, staring blankly into the fridge.

“what are you doing?”

“…looking.”

“for what?”

“…i don’t know.”

you closed the fridge.

“i think your fever’s making your brain a little fuzzy.” you frowned.

“…i forgot where you went.” he quietly admitted after looking at you for a long moment.

you blinked.

“i was gone for maybe thirty seconds.”

“felt longer.”

his cheeks pinkened, whether from embarrassment or the fever you couldn’t tell.

“…i thought you disappeared.”

your expression softened.

“oh.”

he immediately looked away.

“not because i was worried or anything.”

“no?” you cooed, eyes wide as you fought off a smile so he’d know you were taking him seriously.

“…i just…”

he rubbed the back of his neck.

“…didn’t really wanna be by myself.”

the confession came out so quietly you almost missed it. you smiled.

“that’s why you’ve been following me.”

his head snapped up.

“i have not.” he muttered indignantly, his eyebrows pulled together as he attempted his very best scowl.

“riki.”

“i haven’t.”

“you’ve followed me into the kitchen. the living room. the laundry room. the bedroom. and now i’ve caught you waiting outside the bathroom twice.”

“…those don’t count.”

“why not?”

“…because…”

he frowned, searching for an excuse.

“…i was supervising.”

“supervising?”

“making sure…”

another pause.

“…you didn’t get lonely.”

you couldn’t help but let out a stifled giggle, his ears pricking and immediately turning pink at the sound.

“don’t laugh.” he whined, hand rising to flick at your arm.

“i’m not laughing at you.” you remarked, the bright smile plastered on your face indicating otherwise. 

“you are.”

“i’m laughing because you’re adorable.”

“i’m sick.”

“those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

he groaned, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder again with another unnecessarily dramatic sigh. 

“…you’re never letting this go.” he muttered into your neck, lips brushing your pulse point like instinct.

“absolutely not.”

for a second neither of you spoke. instead, you opted to simply rest your hand against the back of his head, gently combing your fingers through his messy hair.

almost instantly, you felt his shoulders relax. the tension he’d been carrying all morning seemed to melt away beneath your touch.

“…comfy?” you asked quietly, receiving only a sleepy hum in return.

“want to go lie down?”

he shook his head against your shoulder.

“…why?”

“…’cause if i stay here…” he yawned, the sound catching halfway through as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

“…i know where you are.”

your heart squeezed so suddenly it almost hurt. for a second, all you could do was look at him. all morning he’d insisted he wasn’t following you. realistically, you knew he’d been untruthful, but it still tugged at your heart all the same. with his fever dulling the filter between his thoughts and the words leaving his mouth, it’d slipped out before he could stop it.

he hadn’t been looking for a snack, or trying to help, or even particularly interested in whatever chore you happened to be doing. he’d just wanted to be wherever you were. a quiet pang of guilt settled in your chest.

without another word, you closed the small distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. he melted into the embrace almost instantly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

his shoulders, which had been sitting just a little too high all morning, gradually relaxed again beneath your hands. you felt him let out a slow, sleepy breath against your shoulder before his arms found their way around your waist, as they always did, holding onto you with just enough pressure to say everything he hadn’t.

“you know,” you murmured, “you could’ve just asked me to stay with you.”

“…i know.”

“instead you decided to become my shadow.”

“…worked, didn’t it?”

you giggled softly.

“yeah.”

you reached up to press a kiss against his warm forehead.

“it did.”

[hoonsonenonly]

this is the cutest thing ever i want to melt into a puddle and die I LOVE MY AEGI-PIE RIKI SO MUCH🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹