#sunghoon fic

[engeneeeyoi]

⋆˚꩜｡ Many broken mugs later ~ psh

Imagine finding both friendship and love in one person

nonidol!sunghoon x fem!reader • wc: 2.5k • friendship to love

Some things just cannot be predicted. Yes, you can have that mysterious gut feeling and be anxious for a whole week, but you will never really know where that came from. Doubts will creep in, chills at mentions of certain names, but so what?

It was going on for weeks. Maybe months. You lost count of days since the tension started building. Going on and on about his friends, yet avoiding mentioning names, going to these lengthy gatherings and coming back with a stupid grin on his face. He let you believe lies about other women and somehow you did. You listened and stayed. Until you didn’t.

“Get the hell out of here!” Another mug flew out of your hand going straight at the wall, missing your, now ex, boyfriend's panicked face by mere inches. He was trying to calm you down, mumbling some nonsense you were fed up hearing and you didn’t even notice how the first object next to you flew towards his head. And another. And another. Until there was a maze of scattered shards of glass and ceramic everywhere.

The front door opened and shut in the background, but you didn’t pay attention to it.

“You can’t tell me to get out. This is my place.” This was one of his problems. Everything was ‘his’ until he struggled and then suddenly it was a joint problem. Never had a single second of hesitation to ask to chip in for rent the second you moved in, yet now suddenly it was only his place.

A door banged loudly and a tall figure entered the scene, eyeing the two of you with a tinge of worry. The messy black hair and brows show clear signs of tiredness probably from training till late evening. He didn’t even utter a word and you didn’t expect him to.

In the half a year you lived in this house, your pathetic excuse of a man shared with Sunghoon, you heard his voice a grand total of two times. That was if you exclude the customary grunts instead of usual hellos you were greeted with almost every morning. Turned out your work and Sunghoon’s ice skating training started almost at the same time and while you saw each other more often than you’d like that didn’t mean you knew much about the man.

“I don’t care whose place this is. Be a man for once in your god forsaken life and just leave.” Your hand went to a new plate on the drying rack, ready for another launch, when Sunghoon’s annoyingly large frame blocked your field of vision. You were about to say that this is really not the time for him to show his male solidarity, but he surprised you with his perfectly levelled, yet commanding tone.

“Just do what the lady said. This is my place too and I want you to leave.” Now your ex was furious, eyeing the two of you like you were his lifelong nemeses.

“Dude, you don’t even know what this argument is about! Why are you taking her side?!” His face got all red and blotchy from the fury, yet his eyes showed fear. He was scared to lose it all.

“I don’t need to. If she is angry like that, then there is a reason for it.” He was avoiding using any names, which made you think he forgot it completely, but it was nice that he still stood by your side, instead of indulging that moron.

The standoff took way longer than it was meant to, probably because your ex was weighing his chances to overpower Sunghoon (which were close to none). The plate in your hand was confiscated and was now back on the rack courtesy to Mr. I-am-twice-your-size, yet your anger was still just as potent. You wanted him gone. To a different dimension if possible. Time felt dangerously slow, but eventually he gave in.

With a tortured sigh, he threw one last glance your way and started walking towards the front door, mumbling something incoherent. Sunghoon tracked him all the way to the door until the loud bang told you he finally left.

Both of you stood still for a couple seconds, then your tall, muscular and super cliche saviour suddenly turned around in an elegant spin.

“You want some tea?” He asked with the most flat tone you have ever heard. Not like he just witnessed you throwing mugs and plates at another person. “That is if we still have mugs left…” You looked at the mess on the floor and immediately all the anger evaporated, being replaced by horror.

“Oh my god, I am so very sorry, I promise I will replace all the broken things and clean up right now.” You were about to walk to the bathroom to grab the broom, but Sunghoon stopped you.

“That is really not why I said it. I was trying to be funny.” He had a sheepish grin on his face, not used to having such lengthy conversations with you or anyone in general probably. The slight blush on the apples of his cheeks made him look almost boyish.

His admission made you forget your initial anger, confusion and now panic, a small laugh spilling out of your lips.

“Yes, I’d love some tea… If you can find a mug.” He returned the laugh and made his way to the kettle, while you plopped on the chair at the kitchen island.

Suddenly the exhaustion took over, your tense muscles going limp and head falling on the island with a soft thud.

“You know you can tell me what happened, y/n.” Hearing your name from his lips made you shudder for some inexplicable reason. Maybe because you were convinced he forgot it. Maybe because in the last 10 minutes you heard this man speak more words than in all the months you’ve known him. And he surprised you. Really surprised you.

While initially you didn’t think you needed to talk it out, his simple presence and the odd comfort it brought, had the words tumbling out in a waterfall, like a dam had burst. You told him everything. How for months he’s been going out with women and hiding it under the pretense that they are just friends, that there will be other people, that this doesn’t mean anything. This whole time you knew it meant a lot more than what he promised, but the rose-tinted glasses didn’t want to fall. At the end of the day you still trusted the bastard. And when they finally shattered, the glass hurt you more than you expected. The anger was insurmountable. This was the first time in your life you understood what “seeing red” truly meant. At some point the anger formed into tears, escaping your body and that was when it really hit you how long you’ve been bottling up these feelings.

The time you spent indulging a fantasy of a healthy relationship when it was all a lie. The energy and effort put into such a big part of your life now felt so futile that you felt helpless. The anger now was less about the betrayal and more about pity towards the wasted resources put into something that was never real to begin with.

Sunghoon listened with the usual calm and detached, almost bored, look, but you knew he paid close attention to every word you said with the way his eyes traveled on your face, the way he bit his lip, trying not to interrupt with a comment or how his leg was anxiously jumping under the table.

You always found it weird how Sunghoon and your ex managed to live together, because they were almost polar opposites. Now that you had a more clear view you realised Sunghoon was almost everything your ex wasn’t. He was calm and reserved as opposed to your ex’s shamelessly loud personality, his athletic career that your ex was jealous of yet never admitted to and after all, the dashing looks that always turned heads no matter how messy or tired Sunghoon looked.

When you finally finished laying everything on the table, with the remnants of calming tea, now cold, at the bottom of the mug Sunghoon found, he finally nodded, but said nothing else. Silence descended in the room. You noticed there was no discomfort that usually creeped in on you in these situations. Almost like this should’ve been normal, yet you were still not used to it. Your ex always hated the quiet. He had to talk loudly all the time or fill in the silence with some awful joke no one laughed at. You thought it was charming, you convinced yourself you liked it, but right now… This warm quiet felt almost meditative.

“I will get a locksmith and have the locks changed so he won’t be able to come in. I’ll deal with the rest of his things. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need until you find a place. Or just stay here.” The last sentence sounded awfully… hopeful? Almost like he wished you stayed. It was a weird sensation, but not an unpleasant one. You smiled a grateful smile, hoping the tear-stained face still looked somewhat normal and you didn’t suddenly forget how to smile.

“Yes, thanks a lot, Sunghoon… It means a lot.” He pursed his lips in a polite smile and left without another word.

That you got to know was a pretty common habit of his.

Sunghoon tended to skip hellos and goodbyes, occasionally leave his wallet at home or lock himself out. You found this surprising clumsiness an adorable charm, albeit sometimes annoying since you had to come to his rescue.

It’s been a couple months now since you’ve been living with him and you grew to know each other way better than you expected. You still didn’t talk a lot even while making coffee and breakfast in the kitchen at the crack of dawn, but somehow you knew exactly how he likes his americanos and he knew that you always added way too much sugar in yours. That you preferred romcoms and he loved action movies so you took turns choosing one for your Saturday movie nights with takeout. That he was absolutely impossible to piss off no matter how much you teased him, yet you playfully punched him in response when he tried anything towards you. That you loved sunsets and he loved sunrises, that he hated sugary things and you had a sweet tooth and many more unspoken things that you just knew about each other without having to speak.

Sunghoon got the locksmith to change the locks and your ex’s things magically disappeared less than a day after he left. That even made you let out a joke that Sunghoon secretly wanted to get rid of him too, to which he deadpanned a “yes” and left with no explanation. The situation was so funny you could swear it was a joke and you learned that his humour was in fact quite dry. The Sahara desert dry.

Things were going so well that you couldn’t help but wait for a catch. But it never came.

One day, when you were watching another Christmas romcom with the big fluffy snowflakes slowly falling outside of the window, you noticed Sunghoon was awfully restless. It was very unlike him to fidget with things and while you tried asking him if anything happened he dodged the questions or made poorly executed jokes to get out of answering, so you gave up.

Now the movie was progressing to the climax of the story with the main lead running after the woman to finally confess that he loves her.

“...No! You don’t understand! Just let me finish… Please. I wanted to say that this whole time… I loved you. Not as a friend, not as a neighbour… but as a person.”

The moment was so touching, with the Christmas lights behind the main characters, that for a moment you forgot to breathe.

“...me too” You heard Sunghoon’s faint voice from next to you, just to turn around and catch his gaze already fixed on you.

“Did you say something?” He let out a soft sigh at the question, your head tilting slightly with confusion. The sounds of the movie suddenly came muffled.

“I said ‘me too’.” His answer didn’t make you feel any more on board with what’s happening and Sunghoon realised that. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “All this time… I liked you too.”

You couldn’t have misheard that. He said exactly that. That this whole time… he liked you. Thoughts were jumbling up in your head running over each other and mixing together. Confusion and panic flooded your nervous system, but along those there was a tinge of… hope? Comfort? He was always so attentive and kind towards you that you got too used to it. Not noticing how he never shared food with anyone but you or when he quickly hid his smile the second he saw you sitting on the couch looking messy or even how he randomly bought things that he thought you’d like. It was all swooped under the rug under the pretence that he was just helping you cheer up. Now it all came back into such clear focus. He was taking care of you not because he felt bad, but because he wanted to.

“I know this is too sudden… I don’t want you to feel pressured, just know that I am here as a friend if you need me to be one.” You met his eyes, glittering from the light of the TV. “I just wanted you to know there are other options…”

A laugh involuntarily escaped your chest, earning you a tense look from Sunghoon. You cleared your throat and thought what to say next, because leaving him hanging like this when you live under the same roof would make you even more stressed.

While you knew he had infinite patience when it came to you, this friendship grew to be important for you. Your dynamics were different and it was a part of what made this work as well as it did. The wounds from the previous relationship were still fresh but didn’t hurt anymore, so maybe you had the right to move on and try something new. Something dramatically different. He was already a dream come true as is, but having to call him your partner…

“Want to date?” Your question was unexpected even for you. Sunghoon looked at you with the most red face you have ever seen him have, which made you chuckle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so forward… I just want to try and see where it goes. As you can tell, I don’t hate you either.” A smile formed on his lips and he gave a curt nod, now looking at the floor.

“Not a single dull day with you… I am looking forward to many more of those.”

[vnllacnd]

CRYBABY‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✴︎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ◟PARK SUNGHOON◞

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˖ ݁ ˓ 𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✸‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Park Sunghoon kneels at an altar made from your tears, mistakes his obsession as absolution, and call claims his hunger is just devotion. He is caught somewhere between salvation and damnation—still, he convinces himself that loving you is a holy act.

2406 𓏲࣪ 🥛🩰 ──── ୨୧ 𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽. 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 x 𝒇.reader triggering content — 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘆, 𝗽𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗺𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲, 𝘁𝗼𝘅𝗶𝗰 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗱𝘆𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗰𝘀.

𝓦𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 :‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 ; minors do not interact. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛ ‎愛 ❜ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✶‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ possessive!sunghoon :: obsessive behaviour :: dacryphilia :: emotional manipulation :: oral (f. receiving) :: unprotected p in v :: use of religious imagery/sacrilegious metaphors :: pet names (angel, pretty, good girl etc.)

NIA’S LETTERBOX ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎★‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ this is an old work of mine that i posted on my previous account. so if the writing looks familiar or you feel as if you’ve already read it, it’s probably why. back when i wrote it, i didn’t know the meaning of a lot of words so i had to search them up constantly, and i probably made a lot of mistakes while using them or messed up imagery in some places as well. i wasn’t confident about posting it back then, and i’m not so sure now as well. if you’re someone who is sensitive to religious themes, please, continue scrolling.

i will probably write more around this style in near future because while i’m not satisfied with my work, i do want to explore how i can weave religious imagery in my writing. it has always been a topic that intrigued me immensely. anyways, i apologize if there are too many mistakes. one of my friend proof read it, but despite that, grammatical and typographical errors may still be present.

Park Sunghoon had long accepted that whatever lived inside him when it came to you wasn’t normal, moral, or sane.

It wasn’t tenderness, not really, nor was it simple affection. It was something older, darker, crawling through his ribs like a living thing. The first time he saw you flinch at a harsh word from someone else, he’d felt a violent spike of emotion that he couldn’t name—something protective and possessive all at once, something that told him you were built of finer material than the rest of the world, too delicate to exist without someone who knew how to handle you, hold you, protect you.

And he believed, with a conviction that bordered on delusion, that he was the only one who understood your softness. You weren’t made for indifference, for cruelty without purpose, for the careless hands of people who didn’t notice when you fell silent or shook a little too hard. No, you were made for someone like him, someone who could see exactly where you’d crack, and someone who could decide when to press his thumb into that crack or when to shield it from every other touch.

In simpler words, you were made for someone who knew how to break you intentionally.

But it was your tears that truly undid him. They took the version of him he pretended to be and tore through it like paper. He remembered the moment he realized it—that stupid fight, your small frame drawn in on itself as if you could swallow your own hurt before anyone could witness it. You’d turned away from him, shoulders trembling, breath catching in the space between one heartbeat and the next. And then your voice broke—thin, desperate, wounded—and your eyes filled too quickly for you to hide it.

The tear that fell had his lungs collapsing. Sunghoon felt his heartbeat stutter, then surge, flooding him with something so intense he had to steady himself to keep from reaching for you too soon. Most people would have felt guilt first. Most people would have apologized immediately. But Sunghoon wasn’t most people. The sight of you crumbling because of him didn’t scare him away, it dragged him closer. It awakened something primal, something that thrived on your vulnerability and wanted to drown in it.

He didn’t just want to comfort you, he wanted to consume you. To fold you into him so deeply you couldn’t tell where your vulnerability ended and his obsession began. And the worst part was how effortlessly that hunger tangled with a second instinct—the fierce, almost obsessive need to shield you from the world. It made him feel deranged, two impulses clashing inside him until all he could do was stare at you with a kind of reverent madness. He wanted to be the one who pushed you to tears and the one who wiped them away. He wanted to see you break and then lock you against his chest until you were safe, soothed, dependent. You looked up at him with those wide, glassy eyes—the kind of gaze that makes a man feel powerful and helpless in the same breath—and he almost told you the truth. That he loved your tears. That he loved the way you fell apart. That he felt more alive in that moment than in entire years of his life.

When he touched your cheek, wiping the tear with his thumb, the tiny flinch you gave shot straight through him like a drug. You didn’t pull away, not really. You didn’t fight him. You simply reacted. Soft, startled, vulnerable. And it made something in his chest twist with satisfaction.

She listens to me. She responds to me. She breaks for me.

The thought alone nearly overwhelmed him. But right behind that darkness came an equally consuming instinct, one that curled around his heart like a chain—you were his to protect and break. The contradiction didn’t bother him, rather, it defined him. You were his little crybaby, his fragile girl, his trembling porcelain thing meant to be guarded fiercely and ruined reverently. And Sunghoon knew, knew in a way that made his breath slow and his pulse steady, that he would destroy anything that threatened your softness. Even if that threat was his own temper. Even if that threat was the world. Even if that threat was you. Because losing you wasn’t an option. Letting you slip out of his grasp wasn’t something he could survive. You weren’t just someone he cared for—you were the one thing that awakened every dangerous thing inside him, the only weakness he embraced willingly. And he didn’t care what that made him. Not when every tear you shed only bound you tighter to him.

He told himself he hated that part of him. He told himself decent people didn’t feel this way when someone they cared about cried. But the lie never held. The truth was uglier and far more intoxicating: your tears made him feel chosen. They felt like proof. Proof that his words mattered, that his presence carried weight, that he could reach into you and pull something fragile and raw to the surface with terrifying ease. Watching you fall apart because of him didn’t repel him, it grounded him. You trusted him enough to be weak in front of him, even when that weakness was something he’d drawn out himself. And that trust made him feel powerful in a way nothing else ever had.

He hated himself for making you cry, loathed the way your sobs trembled out of you like confession, but he loved what followed just as much. Loved how you always turned back to him, clinging for comfort from the very man who had driven you to your knees. Like now, with your plush thighs bracketing his head, your fingers knotted in his dark locks as if in prayer, tears soaking into the pillows beneath you like an offering laid at an altar. If this was sin, then he was already damned, because he swore he never felt closer to heaven.

The taste of you felt sacramental, the scent of your skin clung to him like incense smoke, and your broken cries rang in his ears like hymns meant only for him. In those moments, he told himself this was absolution, that your need sanctified his hunger, that your tears baptized his soul, that loving you this way was not corruption but communion, a holy refuge carved out in the midst of everything he wanted and should never be forgiven for.

“Sunghoon—” your voice fractures around a shameless moan, the sound breaking apart as your fingers tighten in his hair, caught between wanting to push him away and the desperate need to pull him closer, to keep him right where he is.

He never gives you the choice. His arms lock around your waist, firm and unrelenting, pressing you back into the mattress every time you lift your hips in a futile attempt to squirm away. There’s something feral in the way he moves, a barely restrained hunger, teeth tugging lightly at your sensitive clit, tongue tracing slow, deliberate path along your folds as if he’s memorizing every reaction you give him. The silk sheets beneath you are soaked through, clinging to your skin, heavy with the remnants of your previous orgasms and syrupy slick, your thighs dampened and oh-so-adorable.

You were sensitive, though it doesn’t slow him down. If anything, it sharpens him. Your helpless whimpers, the way his name spills from your lips between sobs, do something irreversible to him. Each sound feels like surrender, like worship offered freely, and he takes it as such, devotion curling tight in his chest, twisted and consuming, bordering so closely on obsession that he no longer knows where desire ends and his madness begins.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts, large hand pressing into the soft flesh of your tummy to keep you pressed against the mattress. His tongue is relentless, switching between licks and sucks that leave you feeling lightheaded, almost dumb. “No running away, pretty girl.”

A protesting whine rises up your throat, fingers slipping away from his hair to nudge his head. You were so sensitive, it was ridiculous, but Sunghoon isn’t ready to let you go until he’s satisfied.

“Hoonie, please,” you hiccup, thighs trembling so pathetically it’s almost cute.

Sunghoon flattens his tongue over your puffy folds, dragging the wet muscle from your fluttering hole to circle your clit. It earns him a delicious moan, your fingers clawing at the silk sheets. He watches how your chest rose and fell, your soft tummy marred with the peachy indents of his nails. You looked so pretty spread out for him.

“You cry so easily,” he coos, lifting his head slightly to flash you a grin, his chin smeared with your wetness, pupils blown wide, and dark hair sticking to his forehead. “One word and you’re sobbing pathetically like a baby, hm?”

His long fingers trace up your inner thighs, brushing against the violet and blue marks of love bites and slowly inching closer to your weeping cunt. The tip of his middle finger circles your entrance, not quite entering you just yet. He wants to see you beg for it, but he knows his own impatience is taking its toll.

He watches, mesmerized by the way your hips jerk up when you don’t mean to, how your hole clenches around nothing. So desperate to be filled even after he has been tormenting you. He wants to continue teasing you, continue making you cum around his thick fingers and in his mouth until you’re nothing but a dumb little mess. Yet, he couldn’t keep ignoring his own need for much longer.

With one final kiss on your inner thigh, he got up, lips shiny and eyes dark. His hands travel up, up, uppp your body, groping your tits, watching as the plump flesh spilled out from between his fingers.

“Feeling good, pretty?” He asks teasingly, thumb circling a pebbled peak before he leans down to tug at it with his teeth. Your head thumps against the pillows, tears drying on your flushed cheeks. And oh, he wants.

God must love him, for He has allowed someone like you to fall right into his arms.

What more could he want anyways?

Once his question registers in your mushy head, you manage to offer him a weak nod, thighs spreading wider to accomodate him. “Y-Yeah,” you mumble, fingers loosing its grip around the sheets.

Sunghoon merely hums, lifting his face to adjust himself properly, the mushroom head of his cock nudging your slit. “Relax for me, please?” He murmurs, lips set in a thin line. He pushes in gently, aware that you were sensitive after cumming twice, though the second your wet heat envelopes the tip of his cock, he is gone.

Utterly, stupidly, and completely gone.

It doesn’t matter how many times he has done this, he still feels like he is on the cloud nine. The wetness made the slide easy and your back arched once he bottoms out. You couldn’t stop the noise that leaves your mouth, his swollen tip smooching your cervix. If you were ruined, Sunghoon looked even worse.

He looked like it was physically paining him to be balls deep in your snug cunt and not start moving immediately. “H—Ha, look at ‘er…” his breath stuttered, and he slowly pulled all the way out before snapping his forward sharply. You gasp, hands flying up to grip his biceps, nails biting into his muscles.

He winced, but didn’t complain. Loving the bite of your nails. It was like your little claim on him, a reminder that he was yours, mind, body, and soul. His forehead falls forward against your, sweaty, skin flushed. “Look what you do to me,” he says, a strained laugh escaping his lips as he rolls his hips forward, your walls hugging him tightly.

I could die like this, he thinks. But of course, no one would share the same fucked out sentiments as him. With each moan that leaves your lips and each time you recite his name like a fucking prayer, his thrusts would become meaner. Each drag of his cock against your fluttering walls left you blissed-out.

“H..Hoonie, fuck—” you squeal when his fat tip nudged your cervix, your thighs tightening around his hips, gooey walls clenching as if to suffocate him. His hips stuttered in response, a groan rumbling in his chest.

“Shiiit, d-don’t—ha—don’t do that, angel,” he hissed out from between his teeth, “won’t last long if ya’ keep strangling me like ’tis.“

It wasn’t your fault, you swore, eyes rolling back. He was too deep, his cock hitting every nook and cranny that you never knew existed. You could feel each vein, each ridge as he fucks into you, pressing your body deeper into the mattress. His knees shifted under your ass, lifting your hips to change the angle just slightly. And that was just it.

You writhe beneath him, moans spilling from your spit-slicked and kiss-bruised lips.

“W-Wait—you...you’re too deep,“ you cry out, thick lashes clumping together from tears. Sunghoon kisses his teeth, his hips never once faltering. “Mm—g’nna cum,” you whine, and his hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer, closer, closer until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

He feels your release first in the way you clenched tightly around him, walls fluttering, then comes the warmth. His sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip, the heat in his lower abdomen spreading throughout his body. It climbs higher and higher until he can feel it in his teeth, too. And before he could warn you, he was cumming. Eyes clenched shut.

He couldn’t feel anything besides your stifling warmth, the flutter of your velvety insides, and the way you chant his name. It dripped down his spine like thick honey.

“M’fuck, fuck, fuck—” he whimpers, fingers digging into your hips. He grinds forward as if to fuck it all back into you. After all, how can he let anything go to waste? When the high was slightly washed away, he looked down at you, your body trembling, eyes half-lidded as you stare up at him.

And oh, he loves. He loves when you cry, but he loves the way you trust him with your vulnerability even more.

A sharp smile tugged at his lips, canines flashing. “Think you can give me one more, angel?”

( divider by @strangergraphics <3 ) | other works 🫐

[kssquad]

Guys help! Im looking for a fic i read once and then I lost it. It was about Sunghoon and reader and that hoonie is reader's boyfriend and then he forgets about their date and goes to the library to study instead and then reader goes and finds him there and then they fuck. Ease help me find it guyz!🙏🏼🙏🏼

[romancentold]

☤ TEETH. ❝ BEFORE AND AFTER ❞ 박성훈⸝.ᐟ⋆

⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ S in which nothing cuts deeper than your hatred for park sunghoon, except the desire that waits underneath it. 、masterpost PAIRING 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 ۶ৎ 𝘧𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋. 💿playlist WC 3.3k

𝓦 。ᐟ nothing much just fluff flashbacks hello, angst, 30 smau screenshots, with a dash of babygirl bestfriend heeseung 💿 in my head — ariana grande, i wish i hated you — ariana grande, you get me so high - the nbhd two slow dancers - mitski

𝓢ummer taps mic … hello is this thing on... i’m sorry for being so awol my sweeties i’m in the fucking trenches. i decided to post this separately instead of including it in chapter 16 hehe i got carried away pouring my despair into writing over the past 5 months (crazy sentence) so here is a cumulation of my babies before their downfall + bits of reader's diary :3 i love you all so much. thank you for being here

・・・・・ ✷

FOUR SUMMERS AGO, you came home from a three month long summer trip and found a stranger wearing your favorite person’s face. 

Eventually, you started to wonder if you exaggerated everything the two of you had and embroidered the whole thing with too much hope. Maybe you were just young and stupid, and it was unrequited love, because that is what he told you, wasn’t it?  

“You’re just needy, delusional, and spoiled. And I could never be with someone like you.”

In the end, Sunghoon chose his empire over you, too cowardly to fight against a system his father set up. And you lost your best friend in the process, too. That’s what happened.

You know what happened after that, what he turned into. 

But he wasn’t always like that, no matter how hard you try to rewrite your memories to lessen the pain.

THREE YEARS AGO. ’Twas a warm, still, joyful spring evening from an entirely different lifetime. 

Back when you were beguilingly unaware and unworried about what would happen in the next three years, much less in the next few minutes, inside the cozy corners of your bedroom, which smelled like a Pomander Diptyque candle while Obvious by Ariana Grande sounded through the ApplePlay on your TV.

At the time, you weren’t worried about your sexuationship with your ex-best friend, who turned into the mortal embodiment of Hades and, as fate would have it twistedly, your (PR) fiancée at all. You only had three real concerns, and they were all oh so very simple:

What the hell were you supposed to wear to Jay’s surprise birthday party tonight?

Which bag would best fit all four of your lipsticks and your 3 different compacts (because what if you need to touch up highlighter, powder, and blush?) a power bank (because Sunghoon’s phone always ran out of battery), wipes, hand sanitizer, and Midnight Sun by Stephenie Meyer, because you were fixating on reading again and planned to sneak away to finish a chapter even though you were not antisocial, but just obsessed with Edward Cullen. Maybe the Chanel 19? But what color? And if the bag changed, then the outfit changed. And if the outfit changed, then the shoes changed. Obviously. 

How irrevocably in love you were with your best friend. (Don’t worry, in here, he’s not Hades yet. He’s still your Hoonie.)

Hoonie, by the way, arrived way too early to pick you up, so now he was lying across your couch in your gigantic pink bedroom at your family manor, scrolling through TikTok obnoxiously loudly while you stood inside your walk-in closet, digging through dresses and ranting about some guy you gave a chance the night before. (Sungchan, irrelevant to the plot, however, he was cute. Definitely your type. Definitely into you. Were you? Not so much.) But you finally said yes to a date with him because you could not be hung up on your best friend forever, right? Especially not when said best friend had sworn off love like fucking Simon Basset or whatever. (You didn’t say this out loud, duh)

“…And then he tried to kiss me, and I was like… not in those ugly ass shoes. I was not having my first kiss—” You stopped, because that’s not factually correct. “Well. Not my first kiss. You were my first kiss.”

“I was your what?” 

“My first kiss,” you repeated, cocking a brow up, even though you were in your closet and Sunghoon couldn’t see you. (This was approximately a few weeks after you’d tipsily kissed him in Heeseung’s house, by the way.)

Sunghoon was silent for a while, and then a loud thud sounded. You peeked out just in time to see Sunghoon dragging a hand down his face from your cream sofa, looking exactly as stupid as he clearly felt. “Shit. I forgot that you’re… You.”

You scrunched your nose, indignantly. “What the hell does that mean?”

He looked at you, still in your pajamas and with absolutely no makeup done, and paused for a moment. “How long are you planning to take?”

“What do you mean, I’m me, Hoonie?” you repeated, giving him a look that said, I will now take longer because you asked.

“I mean… you’re you.” He pointed up and down at you. “You have standards and rules.” He looked down at the blanket under him on your cream sofa with the pink Hermès pillows and the matching jacquard merino cashmere blanket, a blanket which was there because no outside clothes touched your couch and even your bed. “And standards for the rules. You just said you rejected Sungchan because of his clothes.”

Oh. You get what he means now. Translation: you’re you, aka stingy with your attention and operating with an insane, clearance system when it comes boys (and girls, if only society wasn’t so… como se dice… homophobic!) Nevertheless, you barely let anyone make it past the talking stage before you find one tiny flaw and send them to the metaphorical guillotine.

And how you’ll never date unless it’s The One.

“And?” You shrugged. 

Side note: You rejected Sungchan because he was not Sunghoon. Plain and Simple. But also, his clothes were really ugly. 

“Ugly fashion choices are a reflection of one’s soul. Like, who wears Prada loafers with a flashy Gucci shirt and a Loro Piana belt? Disgusting mix and match. The sexiest thing a man can do is know when to stop,” you add.

Sunghoon stared at you for a long moment, growing a bit smug, because he was currently your thesis statement in human form. Black Zegna Polo. Black Zegna trousers, and his very own Prada loafers (which are taken off downstairs because, of course, no shoes in the house.) He looked back at you, and he licked his bottom lip. Ugh. “Right,” he said. “So I’m sexy?”

You rolled your eyes. “Keep dreaming, Park.”

“Think you do that for me just fine.” His ears were pink now, despite how smug he was, and you felt a flush go over you all the same. “But…” He paused. “I really was your first kiss?”

You exasperatedly laughed. “How the fuck did you not know that? I’m actually taking great offense to this. Do you even know me? I dropped Winter because she said Breakfast at Tiffany’s was overrated. I have watched Pride and Prejudice nine times—”

“I know. I was with you three of them,” Sunghoon cut in.

You clicked your tongue at the interruption, frowning a bit at the general context of everything. “Did you really think I was out here kissing random people? Me?” You pointed at yourself, genuinely appalled. “I’m not you.”

Sunghoon looked increasingly guilty the longer you spoke, and clearly, he knew that was a jab at how he’d gotten drunk and kissed Sooha at a party one time. “Okay, when you put it like that… I didn't forget,” he argued weakly. “I just…” He paused, running a hand through his hair as you crossed your arms and threw him another annoyed look. “Don’t look at me like that. You're eighteen. I thought maybe.. I don’t know. Maybe you didn’t tell me? You’re so pretty, and everyone fucking likes you and—” 

“Didn’t tell you?” you repeated, and he nodded with an even guiltier look. “Hoonie, you’re the only person I ever tell anything to other than my mom. You’re my… best friend. Do you think I would keep my first kiss a secret?” You rolled your eyes. “You forgot because you’re a man. Just say that.”

“I forgot because I am a man,” he said obediently.

“And because you’re so, so, very stupid.”

Sunghoon’s expression said, nice try. “Don’t push it.” His mouth twitched, then he paused again for a bit, the gears in his head turning in real time. “Was the kiss good, at least?”

Well, now you were only thinking of kissing him again. How inconvenient. “It was terrible. Society would collapse if they found out their precious Park Sunghoon can’t kiss for shit.” You lied. Obviously, you had no previous experience, but you knew it was still the best kiss. (This can be confirmed today, too.)

Sunghoon cocked a brow, his shy demeanor washing away and being replaced by a smug one. He could always tell when you were full of shit, and you hated it. “Oh yeah?”

You threw one of your Hermès slippers directly at his head, but he had the reflexes of an Olympic athlete, so he caught it one-handed without even looking away from you, and this only irritated you even more. “Actually, it was traumatic,” you doubled down, crossing your arms. “Made ten times worse by the fact that the criminal responsible made me promise never to talk about it again.”

He frowned. “I’m sorry.” And damn him, he meant it. You could tell he really fucking did.

“Save it. You’ve ruined romance for me forever.” 

Sunghoon clicked his tongue, and you went back inside your closet. “Fuck. We can’t have that, can we?” He cooed, and suddenly you heard him get up from the couch, so you peeked out again. Oh, God. “I guess I have to make it up to you.”

The atmosphere shifted as he moved closer, and closer, each step feeling as if he were tiptoeing along your ribcages and into your heart. You pursed your lips together as tension curled all around the room and into your being, because you’d never seen Sunghoon’s eyes so dark with want. “And how do you plan on doing that?” you asked.

Sunghoon stopped right in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes — which he did for you, thumb brushing beneath your jaw in a feather-light touch, and now all you could smell was him, and him, and him. His Tom Ford cologne, Fucking Fabulous

Sunghoon’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and your heart dropped with it, too. “By practicing,” he said. 

And all you remember thinking at that moment was, this is really happening, and we’ll never be the same again. 

“Fine,” you said, trying to sound casual as if your heart was not on the tip of his thumb that brushed your chin. “But only because your technique needs serious work, and I’m sooooo charitable.”

“Of course. I mean, you are my best friend, right? And… If I’m really so bad at kissing, then who else but you to help me out?” Sunghoon smiled boyishly, and then he kissed you again before you could say anything, sweeping you off your feet. 

And you would later write in your diary that it felt like one of the kisses from The Notebook, except better, because this was not Ryan Gosling in the rain.

This was Park Sunghoon in your bedroom, kissing you like he finally stopped pretending what was between the two of you was inexorable in the face of everything: his family, society, his defences, and his belief system. 

Later that night, at Jay’s birthday dinner, you would sneak away — not to read Midnight Sun at all — to kiss your best friend. Then again and again and again. 

From then until Paris, that was all it became between you two. Sacred, stolen glances and secret moments, and no one knew.

(With the sole exception of Heeseung and Jay.)

・・・・・ ✷

・・・・・ ✷

Yes, you were seriously just best friends. That’s the foundation for every great love story, though, isn’t it?

And as much as you wanted it — and God, you did want it — you never had sex. You got close once in the back of his Lamborghini, parked under the trees outside the Ritz at the going-away party Wonyoung and Sunoo threw for you, while your dress was bunched around your thighs, and his hand trailed higher, and higher, goosebumps trailing in their wake. But he stopped, and then he said you deserved better than your first time being in the backseat of a car. His first time, too, actually.

So a promise was made. Because promises are sacred and you can never, ever break them, right? 

Forever and always.

And then you went to Paris high on the feeling of being his but not quite fully, but anything was better than not being his at all, and you fell asleep on calls and missed him in every Parisian corner that should have felt magical but didn’t, because he was not there to give its beauty meaning and say something funny that would become your favorite part of the day.

・・・・・ ✷

・・・・・ ✷

June 5th, 2022 6:10 PM

Dear Hoonie Moonie,

“I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you’re everything that exists, the reality of everything.” — Virginia Woolf.

i like that you send me poems sometimes, so i’ve decided this diary will now include a quote of the day whenever one reminds me of you.

after ballet today — which i was half asleep through because SOMEONE thought it was acceptable to keep me on the phone until 5 a.m. my time because he was clingy —  i went to the musée d’orsay with tae and jennie, which you’ll know when you wake up anyway, but i find the need to immortalize everything on paper. duh. we know this by now. they flew in from new york as a surprise (cough, cough, take notes) naturally, tae ended up third wheeling us again. #ilovemysisterinlaw. 

anyways, im already dreading just thinking about that luncheon i’m going to tonight without you to keep me company :( 

and for my question of the day i shall pose: would you still love me if i went bald?

bisous bisous,

your pink mirage 

・・・・・ ✷

July 14th, 2022 1:00 AM

Dear Moonie,

“There are times when my longing for you overwhelms me, so often I can think of you only with teeth clenched.” — Franz Kafka.

there were fireworks everywhere and it was a beautiful day and i wish you were here.

it’s been six days since i last heard your voice properly and i feel like i’m going to die.

ugh. i sound whiny and annoying. what are you doing to me, park sunghoon? i talked to heeseung about this whole thing and he told me i’m the neediest girl alive… first of all needy by ari is my national anthem for a reason, but i’d rather die than admit a man is right. 

and i am busy too, but i still manage to not be too busy for you. 

that was bitchy but i don’t care. i’m not even mad that you are sort of ghosting me. you could go years and years without talking to me — and i’d go out of my mind — but i’d still love you. but i’m just worried. i feel like there is something you aren’t telling me even though you insist there isn’t.

it’s just that i am so confused about everything, and this on top of it is making me overthink every last thing ever. call it female intuition but impending doom is at bay… in my heart.

i am so fucking confused, hoon. i know you’re in love with me and i know saying things has always been harder for you than acting on them, and i know you are scared, but why is this the one thing you can’t say when you say everything else? 

my question of the day: how do you kiss me and get jealous the way you do and still leave me here like this? am i not worth it?

i keep trying not to think that maybe you regret these months… okay wait. i should just shut up. six days of us not being the way we always are and i’m acting like i imagined everything. god. i’m just being dramatic. 

please just be okay. 

forever and always,

your sunshine

p.s. it’s a full moon tonight, so at least you’re here somehow.

・・・・・ ✷

・・・・・ ✷

・・・・・ ✷

September 19th, 2022 11:55 PM

Dear Sunghoon,

“I guess this is the end / I'll have to learn / To be somebody else / It's been you and me / Since before I was me / Without you, I don't yet know / Quite how to live.” – Mitski.

i don’t know why i’m still writing in this. but this is the only place i can still talk to you. i’ll never understand what changed, and as hard as i have tried, you have made it very clear you don’t want me in your life anymore, so i guess this is it, isn’t it?

i saw a pretty car on the street today. you know i don’t know shit about cars, but i think it was a maserati or whatever. it was black and tinted and my first thought was, sunghoon would love this. isn’t that fucking pathetic? you’d call me that, i guess. better pathetic than a coward.

every beautiful thing turns around and points to you, and i never thought there would be a day where i would see something and not be able to tell you about it. so much for forever and always, huh? 

i love you.

i hate you.

question to the gods who rolled my fucked up dices: how do i stop loving someone who is embroidered into the tapestry of my soul?

think of me fondly,

y/n ・・・・・ ✷

[vnllacnd]

SILENT TREATMENT‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✴︎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ◟PARK SUNGHOON◞

explicit content ⨾ mdni

𝒇.reader ⁕ fingering ⁕ unprotected p in v ⁕ rough sex ⁕ slight dub-con ⁕ mean sunghoon ⁕ dacryphilia ⁕ use of pet names (baby, angel, pretty girl etc.)

The argument ended more than two hours ago.

Still, Sunghoon hasn’t heard a word leave your pretty little mouth. Not to mention that the argument was absolutely stupid. His nerves were already frayed by the constant nagging of his manager, a headache throbbing behind his eyelids from sitting in front of the computer screen for too long, mood ruined by that stale coffee the barista served him this morning and called it the best creation of his time. And you. Sweet, perfect, concerned you just happened to be there at the wrong time.

He was being an asshole, that much he admits. He shouldn’t have yelled at you or called you dumb, but you were the softest target with your clinginess and sweet voice. Now, you are giving him the ultimate cold shoulder. He has tried apologizing, tried talking to you, to make it up to you, yet you remain steadfast in your determination to ignore him. It was frustrating, really, though you look absolutely lovely sulking on the couch, big eyes swimming with tears you could barely keep at bay.

Sunghoon’s heart cracks a little at the sight but a small part of him is thrilled that he can get to you so well. You have always been a sensitive little thing, just one mean word or raising his voice a few octaves would leave you a sniffling, sobbing mess.

Just like how you’re sobbing right now. Sunghoon had initially thought that he’d coax you to talk to him again by murmuring apologies in your ear, but you had other plans. The second Sunghoon sits down beside you, you were getting up, sniffling as if he had wronged you (he has). That made his remaining patience snap like a thread.

Before you could even utter a word of protest, you were being bent over the arm of the couch, his large hand pushing your face into the cushions, thick fingers ripping your panties and tossing them off somewhere. He could have been more vocal and gentlemanly, though you don’t look like you were in the mood for it. Besides, he already knows what will get you speaking really fast.

“We’ll do it your way,” Sunghoon mutters, leaning over you, his chest brushing against your back. His lips pressed on the side of your neck in a feather-light kiss that didn’t match the roughness of his hands.

His hand palms your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly before sneaking down to brush over your folds. He isn’t gentle by any means, no, his thumb rubs up and down your slit, gathering the syrupy slick and circling your clit once, twice, thrice, and again until you are squirming from the stimulation.

“Nu-uh, baby. Don’t squirm now,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your jaw. You were about to relax, to melt into his familiar touch, but of course Sunghoon wasn’t nice. Before you could relax, three thick fingers are sinking down to knuckles, cold metal of his rings bumping against your heated skin.

You jerk, a sharp cry leaving your lips at the suddenness of the intrusion. Sunghoon watches as tears drip down your sweet face, staining your ruddy cheeks, and making your bottom lip tremble oh-so-sweetly. Fuck, you were so pretty, so, so dear to him it was ridiculous. He gives you enough time to adjust by squirming and clamping around his digits before pulling them out, feeling your walls flutter, and then stretching deliciously when he thrusts them back in.

Sobs are already falling past your lips, back arched as slick drips down his digits and coats his hand in thick sheen. “Still not speaking?” He murmurs, warm lips brushing over your dampened cheek, tongue flicking out to lick a tear. “I did say sorry, didn’t I?”

You’re immediately shaking your head, strands of hair sticking to your damp skin. “No, y-you didn’t, Hoonie.”

Oh, how Sunghoon melts at the way you whimper out that little nickname. He grins against your cheek, crooking his fingers juuust slightly to hit that spongey spot. Your body jerks, toes curling from pleasure as you let out a choked moan.

“I didn’t?” He muses, pulling his fingers out with a wet squelch. “That’s really bad of me, isn’t it?”

He was mocking you, you could tell by the slight taunting lilt of his voice. You were ready to beg him to put his fingers back, already feeling empty and distressed from the loss of orgasm. But then you feel him moving back, the sound of metal clinking, and the sound of a zipper reaches your ears. You tense—from anticipation or from nervousness, you couldn’t tell. Though your cunt clenched ‘round nothing, dripping like it has been waiting for this exact moment. And perhaps, Sunghoon thinks, she has. After all, his pretty girl was just so ready for him whenever he needed her.

He pulls his pants and boxers down to his thighs, just enough to free his aching erection. It springs free with a jerk, tip glistening with pre-cum. Spitting on his palm, Sunghoon fists his shaft, pumping his plumpy girth once, twice, thrice before lining himself up with your weeping cunt.

His one hand pushes down on your back to make you arch while the other guides the bulbous head to part your folds and sink into your heat. He watches, entranced, as your puffy lips parted around his mushroom tip, your walls stretching around his girth as he feeds you inch after thick inch. He has to hold himself back from just rutting into you like an animal, to relish in the damning, velvety heat of your cunt.

“S—Sunghoon—” you gasp, gummy insides swallowing him whole. The way he fills you up is almost sinful, and all you could do is push your hips back, grind your ass against his pelvis

“Mm, fuck, baby,” Sunghoon rasps, his other hand coming to pull both of your arms behind your back, holding your wrists with one hand while the other settles on the dip of your waist to anchor you to him. “Feels like coming home. Literally.”

He gives you a second to adjust—just a second, and then he is pulling his hips back, thick head dragging along your walls almost heavenly before snapping forward.

He sets a punishing pace almost immediately once he was sure you could take it. His hips slap against your plump ass, grip tight on your wrists as he thrusts, thrusts, thrusts, each one forcing his cock a little deeper than the last. “That’s what you get for goin’ silent on me,” Sunghoon groans, his length swabbing into every nook and cranny you thought didn’t even exist.

“Nngh, t—too fast,” you slur out, head pushed into the couch cushions, its case now damp with your drool and tears, and bend over the armrest with your ass and feet up. The position wasn’t new, though the circumstances sure were. And Sunghoon doesn’t look like he is in the mood for playing nice and gentle for you, at least not tonight.

“Clearly not fast enough if ya’ can still speak, pretty girl,” and then he is changing the angle, just slightly so, but it made stars burst behind your eyes all the same. He bends his knees, pulling at your wrists to force your back into a deeper arch and that has his cock ramming into that sweet, hidden spot.

“Oh—” you squeal, thighs clamping shut.

That, that wasn’t something Sunghoon liked, clearly, because one second his hand is pinning your wrists behind your back, and the next you feel a sharp smack landing right on your pussy.

You yelp, more slick gushing around his cock as his roughened tips press down onto your puffy clit. “You’re always throwin’ a tantrum and being messy, hm?” His low voice was enough to pull a whimper from your throat, the stinging of the smack barely subsiding before he is drilling into you.

“I—I wasn’t—” you start, but your words are soon dissolving into sobs when he twists your clit, his larger, broader frame hovering behind you when he leans down.

“H-Ha, you so were, baby,” he drawl out. You were a firm one, Sunghoon knew that much. Even if you were on your limits, you wouldn’t admit it. Such foolishness in a small body was almost expected, really, though it didn’t dim his admiration for you. If anything, your stubbornness to admit your weakness and vulnerability made him want to crush you.

And he expected that whiny denial anyways. He’d have to bully out a few orgasms for you to actually sob out a complaint.

You were just so beautiful when you were being tunneled by his cock, all stupid and whiny with tears and drool all over your face.

Stubborn and a whole lot sensitive, but you were his, every inch. And while he might have yelled at you because of his stupid stress, he knows how to make it up to you all too well.

So, in no time, he is burrowing his cock deeper into your cunt until the round head slams into your cervix. You don’t get the time to even register the sensation at first before he is bashing that spot, the impact and pleasure making your eyes cross and for unashamed moans to spill out.

“Mhm-hm, look at ‘er, angel,” he grunts, “Grippin’ me so sweetly.”

Each snap of his hips sent your body jolting forward, face pressing into the cushions and wetting them with your spit and tears. Usually Sunghoon is much more loving and considerate, however, right now he has lost all of his patience. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and the wet, filthy plap, plap, plap filled the living room along with his ragged breathing.

He felt your walls fluttering, saw the way your knees gave away and you bit the pillowcase to muffle your cries, and he knew you were close. Too close. A little bit more and you’d be dumb enough to forget about the argument altogether.

His hand snakes down, thick fingers prodding at your swollen folds before finding your clit and drawing slow, tight circles over the sensitive bud. Your body twitched, a broken sound spilling past your lips, sounding strangely like a breathy gasp of his name. Sunghoon didn’t stop his relentless assault, if anything, his thrusts became more forceful, more intentional to drive you to the brink of insanity.

“You’re close, pretty girl,” Sunghoon murmurs, not a question, rather a statement. He knew your body better than you knew it yourself, knew which buttons to press to get you all stubborn and defensive and what strings to pull to make you melt in his hands.

You merely managed a dumb nod, sniffling and hiccuping, and it was just so pathetic. You were barely coherent, probably not even listening to half the things he spewed out. His cock gave a traitorous jerk, balls drawing up as his own climax approached.

“Sunghoon,” you choke out, the knot in your tummy unraveling with each thrust. “P—Please, don’t stop.” Pleasure spreads down to your toes like an inferno, consuming you whole until all thoughts and memories of previous argument melted from your head.

The “please” sounded so good from your lips, but then again, you’ve always looked prettier when you begged.

“Please what?” He slows down like the annoying asshole he was, and a shudder ran through you. You didn’t speak—couldn’t, not when he was railing you into another week. He, however, doesn’t care if he had rendered you speechless. He wanted—no, needed—you to continue your mindless babbling. He leaned over you, chest brushing against your back and he was so warm, like a furnace. “I said, please what, angel, hm? Please let you cum? Please fuck you harder? Or please stop? Which one is it?”

The thought of him stopping was painful. You didn’t want that, not when you were so, so close. You shake your head immediately, lifting your head a little to peer at him from over your shoulders, your wet eyes meeting his.

“Please let me cum,” you whimper, and Sunghoon feels the wetness of your tears when you press your cheek against his jaw.

And, just like that, he was absolutely done for. His hips snapped forward with more force than necessary and you bit back a choked cry.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he rasped, lips ghosting over your soft damp cheek in feather-light kisses. “Too good.”

The squelching sound of your wetness ricocheted off of the walls along with the slap of skin against skin. Your eyes rolled back, breath hitching as the pleasure mounted—hot and white. Your grip on the cushions tightened, nails tearing into the cheap pillowcase.

Your thighs shook, entire body seizing with the force of your orgasm as you came around his cock. It was abrupt, intense, and numbing. You feel Sunghoon stilling inside you, big, warm hands settling on your waist. You squeezed him, and the tightness had him choking back a moan. He pulled out, fist closing around the base of his cock in a firm grip. He knew if he continues, he’d cum, and he had something much important to take care of before granting himself that pleasure.

He watched as you came down from your high, body still trembling with the aftershocks of it all, the fire dying down and leaving behind dazzles of pleasure.

“You alright?” He whispered, voice gentler now as he rubbed your back.

You stayed quiet for a moment, catching your breath before speaking. “You were mean to me,” you whisper, voice undeniably sulky despite your piss-poor attempt to mask it.

Sunghoon huffed, a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, though you weren’t sure. He moved away, the warmth of his body disappearing and you almost found your footing back when he is hauling you up and settling down on the couch, sitting you on his lap.

“Oh, I know,” he sighed, hands finding purchase on your bare hips and he felt the familiar spark of arousal igniting low in his guts. He dark eyes catch yours, a small, almost mocking smile pulling at his lips. “But I know how to make it much better, yeah?”

If the lustful glint in his eyes wasn’t enough to convey his implications, the hardness of his arousal pressing against your inner thigh made his intentions much, much clear. And despite how much you want to hold on to your anger, you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like you were the most beautiful person to exist in his world, and especially not when you could feel yourself already beginning to drip.

Sunghoon was indeed right. You are a mess.

( divider by @dollywons <3 )

[heewnss]

OMG SO EXCITED FOR THE SUNGHOON FICCCC sosoos peak<33

I CANT WAIT TO AHHH 🤭 right now i’m debating on doing multiple parts or just banging out a 20k fic 😵‍💫 what do u think???

[heewnss]

sunghoon fic loading~

this one actually made me cry ngl 😵‍💫 goood fucking luck!!

[saebyeokk]

1 | blurred lines — p. sunghoon

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

summery: you're a hopeless romantic forced to share a flat with park sunghoon-the most annoying boy on planet earth—after being left with nowhere else to go.

in order to prove to the boy who broke your heart that you've moved on, you (after all your other options go to shit) agree to fake a relationship with sunghoon, with the hopes it'll make the girl he likes finally see what she's missing. it'll be simple. temporary and strictly pretend.

except nothing about pretending to be in love with someone you can't stand is simple, especially when you live under the same roof. because the walls you rebuilt around your heart? they start to crack. and the ones he's never let anyone past? they begin to crumble.

and the thick line you swore you drew in permanent sharpie to separate fake from real?

it starts to blur.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

pairing: hopeless romantic!reader x fuckboy!sunghoon

chapter content/warnings: angst, heartbreak, cheating, betrayal, reader has poor body image, alcohol, smoking, no use of y/n

notes: sooo this is originally on wattpad (@-saebyeok) but i decided to post it here also. however blurred lines on tumblr will be the explicit version!! updates will go to wattpad will ofc eventually be posted here :)

taglist: @pradaheeseung @maedearest @rairaiblog @zoe1love @snghon @saraabbas @enaesthetix @areikii @8naqvg

word count: 5.3k

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

01. HOW TO DEAL WITH A BREAKUP

One Year Ago

Tears blurred your vision as your reflection stared back at you, mocking and humiliating you the longer your eyes found and highlighted more of your insecurities.

Goosebumps adorned your olive skin and a wave of nausea flushed throughout your body, threatening to spill from your quivering lip.

'Brave' was the word he used whenever you would wear something as ‘revealing’ as this. At the time, you thought it was a compliment because it made your stomach swirl and your cheeks burn.

Now, you just cringe at how naive you were.

The curves of your body felt like a spotlight as they were engulfed in the warm embrace of the dresses' lacy material, and the stretch marks on your arms and thighs only made you feel worse. You had nothing to hide them with, nothing that suited, and now that the dress was on, you were certainly regretting choosing an outfit with spaghetti straps.

It had been nearly a month since your relationship with Yeonjun (the boy you presumed to be the love of your life) came to an abrupt end; the boy you were in love with had decided the fate of your five years of happiness after he claimed he no longer felt 'the spark.'

You didn't know whether that was just an excuse—a cover-up to the truth—or if he truly didn’t feel the spark between you anymore. He left you with not just an aching heart, but a stomach consumed with anxiety and a mind full of wonders and worries.

Was there someone else?

Did he not like the way you looked?

Did you not satisfy him?

You didn't know. You had no clue what caused Yeonjun to feel the way he did, and plenty of potential answers kept you up at late hours in the night, leaving you tossing and turning in your cold, lonely bed sheets with droplets of sweat gliding down your back.

However, despite the sudden cut off, you were understanding—you always had been from a young age, even when your older brother got something you didn't.

So, when Yeonjun, the boy you thought you were going to marry and create a family with, broke the news to you in the university’s library one day after a lecture, you accepted it. You accepted the fact he was no longer in love with you and let him go, in spite of how much it pained you mentally and physically.

Heck, if anyone had got brutally dumped in the middle of a silent library, where the only noise that could be heard were the flicking of pages and the tapping of fingers against a keyboard, they’d have a hard time expressing how they truly felt due to the fear of being banned from ever entering the room of books again—at least, that was what kept you grounded.

Luckily, you had been blessed enough to have Kang Yura as a best friend.

At the beginning of the breakup, you cried to her for nearly a month straight, not caring if Yura saw you at your worst. You ranted and poured your heart out and drank until your stomach could no longer take it, and Yura did too, as a supporting friend.

You fell into a slump of depression and despair, queries of what you could have possibly done differently to make Yeonjun stay consuming your mind as Yura did her best to comfort and reassure you.

Today would be the first day you set foot outside of the house since the heart aching breakup occurred (you having decided to attend online classes instead), and you were going big—at least that was what Yura suggested you did for the first time you did something ‘active.’

Before the break up, ‘Afterglow’ had been a bar where you both happened to pay a visit to at the end of every hard, stressful, lecture-full week. It was a place where you let your hair down, drank to get drunk, danced to have fun, and laughed until your lungs couldn’t bear it anymore.

There were many memories stored within the sticky walls of Afterglow, and so Yura thought it'd be good to get back into routine as soon as possible and go big, rather than remain at home.

You had been apprehensive about the idea at first. You weren’t quite sure if you would have the energy to dress up and dance the night away next to bodies you’d never see again, or socialise with other people.

Though, once Yura happened to mention alcohol and the effects it would have on you, you were swayed.

Anything to numb to pain, you had thought.

However, as your reflection glared back at her, daunting her in a way, you felt the plug that had been desperately trying to contain the small amount of joy you felt, get pulled and drain it all from you, before you were cruelly slapped across the face with the harsh reality.

You’d gained weight. A lot of it. And it was visible.

Your arms were a lot more chubbier and when you held them out, you couldn’t help but think it would be possible for you to fly with the excess fat you wore.

The outline of your stomach and bellybutton had become prominent against your maroon, skin tight dress and that only made you want to throw your pyjamas on instead.

You were mentally cursing yourself for drinking and eating your feelings, and all you wanted to do was tear your hair out for being so stupid.

Wasn't a breakup a time to glow up? Wasn't that what usually happened in the romance movies you used to binge? That’s what happened to Elle Woods in Legally Blonde, at least.

Weren't the girls supposed to end up feeling better about themselves, and the boys left feeling lost and regretful of their decision? Was that how Yeonjun was currently feeling?

Did he feel lost without his high school sweetheart?

Was he regretting his choice?

Nevertheless, you pushed through the frustration and pulled the red, desirable dress off of your body in fury, not caring where it landed or if it got crinkled as you threw it out of your sight. You never wanted to see it again. You wanted to burn it, and all of the other things that made you hate herself.

Why were breakups so hard?

Why couldn’t things just be simple?

Ripping your eyes away from the mirror, your skin prickled in disgust and your blood boiled as you carelessly opened the door to your closet and took out the first thing you saw: a grey jumper dress that you knew wouldn’t be revealing, and a pair of black tights to keep you warm through the night.

The outfit made you feel comfortable in more than one way. It made you feel safe and guarded, and you knew by wearing it, you wouldn’t have to wonder if people were staring at the fat on your body because they couldn't see it, and that was all that mattered. You had no one to impress. No motivation. No nothing.

Before leaving the stuffy bedroom you had caged herself in for the last few weeks, you took a final glance at your features.

The skin on your face that once received compliments for how clear it was, was now covered in pimples and oil, and your round cheeks were rosy and irritated. You looked like a thirteen year old entering puberty rather than a twenty year old that had your hormones together.

And you knew applying makeup to your face would only anger the breakout more, so you didn’t put any on. You stuck to black mascara, a bit of black eyeliner, which erupted a meltdown from you earlier on due to the times you messed up, and your favourite lip gloss—Yeonjun’s favourite lip gloss. The gloss he liked to kiss off of your lips oh-so much.

Your long, light brown hair, that was once always healthy and shiny with a kink running through it, was now dead and straw-like. You had thrown it into a ponytail, wanting nothing more than for it to be out of your face. You didn’t want anything else to cause you frustration tonight.

The bags beneath your broken eyes were heavy. They reminded you of the times you would go on shopping sprees with Yura and your arms would be so sore by the end from how heavy the bags were.

Perhaps you shouldn't go out today?

Maybe you should put it off for another few days?

Maybe you’ll feel more up to doing something next week?

You looked like a disaster, and all you wanted to do was curl up into your bed covers and watch the movies you could no longer relate to. You didn’t want to end the night dancing with strangers you wouldn’t remember in the morning, and smelling of sick.

But, the sight of your phone lighting up, your lockscreen that was once a candid photo of Yeonjun in your bed, sleeping, now just some default photo from the wallpaper setting, created light in your dimly lit room.

It was a message from Yura telling you that she was on her way and that she was dying for a Sangria.

A small grin tugged at the corner of your lips and a breathy chuckle escaped. Yura never failed to make the corner of your mouth curve upwards. It was like a superpower she had.

Perhaps you should go out today?

Maybe it won't be so bad?

And so as you refused to glance over at the full length mirror again, you picked up your purse and swung it over your shoulder before leaving your bedroom, planning to get rid of the mirror as soon as you got home that night.

The air outside was bitter and the small breaths you would take would become visible clouds. Goosebumps lined your skin despite your arms being covered by the fabric of the dress, and your legs were swallowed in the material of the black tights. You should have definitely worn a coat tonight.

However, you hadn’t quite realised how bad the weather had become the past month. You had been so absorbed in your tears, Yeonjun and drinking endless bottles of Plum Soju to notice the leaves crisp and the air become drier.

In a way, you supposes that the current weather mirrors the emotions you have swirling within you. The colour of the plants and the sky were drained of its usual vibrancy, just how your personality had depleted its usual bubblyness, and the stillness and lack of people around projected the loneliness that dwelled within you. Though, you think that that might just be the literature in you that makes you have this outlook… you’re not quite sure.

“We’re almost there,” you heard Yura announce with a wide smile spread across her lips, and you felt your best friend link her coat-clad arm with yours. “And then your drinks are on me! I promise.”

It was clear to you that Yura was doing everything she could to make you feel better about agreeing to coming out, and you were grateful for that. You really were. You aren’t so sure what she would do without her.

“Okay,” you hummed out, sending your best friend a tightlipped smile as you welcomed the girl's touch. “You best stick to your word, or I won’t ever trust you again.” You joked and a giggle fell from both of your mouths.

“Hey, I always stick to my word—remember at the start of Uni when you were scared I wouldn’t save you a seat in the dinner hall ‘cause there were ‘so many people’, and it was ‘scarier than high school’, but I did, despite having to tell people they couldn’t sit there?” Yura grinned at you, and even though the memory would seem like the bare-minimum to anyone, it was everything to you.

You remembered how nervous you were on your first day, so nervous that you threw up in the Uni toilets twice! You even considered dropping out at the last minute and getting a full time job at the corner shop near your home rather than pursue your love for books because you couldn’t shake the twisting feeling in your stomach.

There were people everywhere. Everywhere you looked there was somebody doing something and for some reason, that frightened you. You knew University would be a lot different to high school, however you didn’t expect it to be that different. You were worried you wouldn’t find somewhere to sit in any of your class and the dinner hall, and so you asked your best friend, who had been by your side the entire day, convincing you that you can do University, to save you seat.

And she did. She saved the seat that was next to her by putting her very unnecessarily large bag on the chair and telling people her bag needed it more than they did just so you could eat your lunch peacefully.

That happened in March at the start of the academic year. Now it’s December and Yura still keeps a seat for you, in spite of you stating that she doesn’t need to anymore.

But, that was the kind of person Yura was. She was always going lengths to make sure her friends got what they wanted and were happy, and you loved that about her.

Once you eventually made it to the nightclub and got inside after standing in the long line outside for almost thirty minutes, you were instantly hit with a mixture of things.

Firstly, the scent. The pungent, sickly smell of all kinds of alcohol tickled your nose for a moment, making it twitch in disgust before it was taken over by the cocktail of different perfumes and sweat that clouded the air.

Secondly, the sight. The staccato, blinding strobe lights that found rhythm with loud beats of the music. They were colourful and flashy, and bounced off of one person to the next. You knew that the alcohol wouldn’t be the only factor in the reason for your headache tomorrow morning.

And thirdly, the sound. The demeaning, thundering beat of the music was enough to make your body shudder and your ears ring the moment you stepped foot into the confined room. A song you had never heard of before was spitting through the large speakers that had been set up on tables next to the DJ near the dance floor where the majority of the people were, enjoying whatever he was playing.

“Come on, we can dance later!” You just about heard Yura yell excitedly, and she held on tightly to your hand before pulling you past the clammy bodies and to the overcrowded bar. There was no way you were getting a drink anytime soon…

Though, leave it to Yura to be able to push her way past the drunk students, sweet apologies falling from her painted lips and batting her eyelashes as she smiled.

“Give me two rounds of Vodka shots, and two Jägerbombs as well please!” Yura shouted to the bartender and perched herself on the bar stool.

“Thought you were dying for a Sangria?” You questioned with furrowed eyebrows and a smile as you leaned down next to your friend's ear to make sure she heard your query correctly.

Shrugging her shoulders, Yura opened her purse to retrieve her debit card and paid before putting it away and looking back at you. “I had a change of heart. We’re out to get fuck-faced, so that’s what we’ll do—Sangria is like drinking water.” She chuckled and so did you.

Finally, the drinks were given to you on the usual black tray and you smiled at the bartender as a way to thank her before Yura handed you your first shot of the night.

“Ready?” Yura smirked, her eyes twinkling as the lights reflected them.

Nodding your head, you mirrored your friend’s expression. “Ready.”

And before either of you knew it, you were letting loose on the dance floor, dancing to the songs you didn’t know but not bothering to complain because you were having fun.

For the first time in who-knows-how-long you were letting your hair down and enjoying the moment. The alcohol in your system was sending gushes of adrenaline throughout your body, making you feel more than alive and confident, whilst always pigmenting your cheeks.

But you didn’t care. Not at all. You didn’t care how stupid you looked as you danced beside Yura. You didn’t care if you were singing the wrong lyrics, nor did you care that the strobe lights were nearly blinding you. You didn’t care for any of it. And that was all that mattered.

Though, it wasn’t until the ache that came with wearing heels whilst dancing suddenly started to become present in your ankles that you started to care.

Your features scrunched in discomfort and a curse slipped through your lip. You knew you had to sit down for a moment, just to sit the ache off. You had experienced this before. You knew how it worked, and you knew by resting your feet for ten minutes or so you would be good to go afterwards.

So, turning to your best friend who was lost in the music, you told her that you were going to sit down and Yura insisted on going with you, despite how many times you insisted she remained on the dance floor.

“I’m so happy you came out tonight!” Yura slurred the moment you both plonked yourselves down on the leather seats of a booth, a sigh of relief pushing past your lips.

“I am too.” You nodded to Yura’s statement, and you eventually turned to face your best friend who had been watching you. “Thank you for bringing me out tonight—and thank you for helping me through this mess.” You slurred your words as breathy chuckles followed after them.

“I don’t know how I would’ve coped if you hadn’t been there.” You finished, knowing that it was the alcohol in your body that was making you express your feelings so suddenly. You would’ve thanked Yura anyway, but this wasn’t the way you had planned.

Suddenly, you drowned in a wave of confusion the moment you watched as your best friend’s bottom lip began to quiver and her dark eyes filled with salty tears.

Had your words hit her that deep? You wondered to yourself before concern became present across your features. Perhaps it was just the alcohol enhancing her emotions…

However, the moment you saw the tears spill over the edge of Yura’s eyes, your own widened and you hurried to sit closer to the girl, wrapping a comforting arm around her.

“Yura,” you softly muttered. “What’s wrong?” You asked and your voice was laced with nothing but worry.

It wasn’t often that Kang Yura cried—even drunk. You could count on one hand the amount of times you had seen your best friend succumb to tears, and you had been best friends since you were thirteen.

Yura had always stated that crying was a sign of weakness for her, so she didn’t do it at all. She hated to be seen as weak.

And so now, as more and more tears gushed down the girl’s crimson coloured cheeks and her shoulders jerked as sobs poured from her mouth, you didn’t know what to do, or say.

“Yura, please talk to me.” You soothingly urged, slowly pulling back from the comforting hug to get a better look at the girl.

She stuttered your name and at a slow pace, she moved to look at you. “Can I tell you something…?”

Eagerly nodding your head, you muttered an ‘of course’ and patiently waited for her to continue. You hated seeing her in such a state, it really broke your heart.

“You can’t be mad, okay? Please don’t be mad.” Yura almost begged whilst more tears streamed down her face. The girl was getting herself into a mess with tears and snot combing on her face, so you picked up one of the white tissue papers that were left lying on the table and cleaned Yura up a bit, not before making sure the tissue was clean though.

“Why would I be mad, Yura?” Your eyebrows gently knitted together and your shoulders slumped. It pained you to know that your best friend was afraid to tell you something in fear you would be mad. “Talk to me, please.” You practically begged.

Immediately, the sobs that were once falling from Yura’s mouth turned into uncontrollable wails and her body began to heave, and in all honesty, it started to scare you. What could have caused this? Who could have caused this?

“I didn’t mean for it to happen…” Yura stuttered and moved her trembling hands from her lap to hold onto yours. “I didn’t mean to fall for him—I swear I didn’t…” she continued and you listened intently. “It just happened, and I think we’re in love—and I don’t know what to do—“

“Yura,” you abruptly cut your friend short, your eyebrow raised and your back straightened as you subconsciously held onto Yura’s hand a bit tighter. “Who are you talking about? Who have you fallen in love with?”

Though this should be a time where you jumps for joy over the fact that your best friend has fallen in love with somebody, and begins to plan their wedding for them, a large part of you is holding herself back from doing so.

Something within you is telling you that something is wrong. There’s something uneasy in the air that has you holding your breath as you wait for Yura to answer.

You don’t want to take a deep breath in, not yet, not when you’re this close to hearing the name—his name.

“Yeonjun.”

Shit.

That was how you felt the moment your ears heard the name that you hadn’t heard in so long. You had refused to use it and made sure no one used it around you because you knew it would be a dagger to your heart.

And now, for the first time in forever you hear it because your best friend is confessing to being in love with him.

You wanted to be sick. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were far too stunned to react, and that had Yura sobbing even more.

It felt as if everything around you had come to a halt or slowed down.

The music? No longer heard, but the beats are still present.

The people dancing? Still dancing, but this time in slow motion, unaware of the events that had just taken place.

Yura’s cries? Ignored.

You had to leave immediately. You needed to escape before you externally imploded.

“Wait! Where are you going?!” Yura asked in a panic and she reached her hand out to grab hold of yours as you slid out of the booth, however you were fast enough to be out of distance by the time she moved. “Please don’t leave—please, I’m begging you!”

Again, you ignored her. You couldn’t bring yourself to say a word to Yura, not when you were emotionally unstable and your system was consumed with alcohol. You would only end up saying something you know you would regret, and regret is something you don’t want to live with.

And so, you pushed your way past the people that continued to dance, unaware of the events that had just occurred, and stumbled your way out of the club with your vision hazy and head spinning.

The midnight air didn’t feel as cold as it did earlier on that evening, but that was probably because your blood wasn’t boiling then.

There was a cocktail of emotions swirling around in your chest and it was overwhelming. You were angry—furious even—and confused, and shocked, betrayed, but most of all, heartbroken.

It felt as if the other half of your broken heart had been shattered into tiny fragments and were left laying on the floor, hard to find and pick up again to mend. You were broken, and nothing could fix it.

The longer you stood outside the booming club, the more you started to become aware of everything that had just happened. The adrenaline that was once soaring through your body was beginning to vanish, leaving your movements sloppy due to the amount you’d drunk tonight.

Your boyfriend—no, ex-boyfriend and best friend were in love…

Just the thought alone made you want to puke. Your throat started to tighten and your eyes became glossy as your hands started to tremble. You needed to cry. You were going to cry.

But you didn’t want to. You needed something to distract yourself.

So, taking a deep breath in to gather your feelings, you hurriedly glanced around in desperation. You needed to find a distraction quickly otherwise Yura would probably end up showing up and catch you crying—you most definitely did not want that.

You weren’t going to allow her to witness another tear fall from your eye ever again.

All of a sudden, blocking out the scent of alcohol and sweat was the acrid smell of smoke. It was strong and musky, and it made your features scrunch in disgust and your eyes dart to find the source.

There were thin wisps of it curling into the bitter air and the moment your dark eyes landed on the lit flame at the end of a cigarette, you gulped.

An idea had formed in your head. A stupid idea.

You had never smoked a day in your life and never planned on doing so, especially after having watched your mothers boyfriend smoke around the house, and seeing how the effects of it caused his teeth to stain and his breath to smell. It never appealed to you.

However, the more you watched the stranger puff out clouds of smoke, the more you felt intrigued to have a go yourself.

Perhaps it was the alcohol in your system that was giving you the green light? Or the heartbreak? You didn’t know, but what you did know was that you weren’t going to be a virgin to a cigarette by the end of the night.

Swallowing thickly and adjusting your posture, you let out a heavy sigh before you felt your feet slowly begin to move in the direction of the stranger that was standing in front of a brick wall.

He looked like trouble in your opinion. His outfit was entirely black—black T-shirt, black trousers—and his hair black too and styled in a way that showed part of his forehead. His skin was pale and glass like (it reminded you of a character you’d see in a Twilight movie), and as he used his slim fingers to pull the cigar from his plump lips, his dark eyes met yours.

You sent him a small smile. It was one to say that you didn’t want any aggro—just a puff of his cigarette and you would be gone.

And watching as he took another drag from it before holding it out for you to take made you think he understood.

Nodding ever so slightly to reassure yourself that you could do this, you hesitantly reached out to take the blunt from him and held it between your two fingers for a moment, staring at it like you were waiting for it to do something.

Do it. You kept telling yourself. You wanted to, so what were you so afraid of?

“You don't seem like a smoker.” The stranger suddenly stated, tearing the silence apart and making you jump ever so slightly. For a moment, you had forgotten he was standing in front of you.

"I'm not." You shook your head and your voice was weak and raspy. You knew you needed to drink some water, so you made the plan to stop by the twenty-four hour corner shop by your house to get something on your way home.

“Alright.” He scoffed quietly and took the cigarette from your fingers and put it between his instead. You were going to protest and tell him that just because you hadn’t smoked before didn’t mean you can’t start now, but you didn’t have the energy.

You were drained mentally and physically. Your chest felt heavy and so did your shoulders. Everything felt heavy. Everything. Was it because of the heartbreak? The weight you gained?—God, the weight you’d gained…

And then, the job that the alcohol did in helping you forget and not care vanished and all of your insecurities came gushing back to you all at once. Reality slapped you across the face and suddenly your bottom lip was uncontrollably quivering.

Your eyes were flooded with tears that you desperately tried not to let go of, however the image of Yeonjun and Yura together, in love, removed the latch keeping the tears in place and allowed them to spill.

You were such a fool.

You were boyfriend-less, best friend-less, you didn’t feel pretty at all, the alcohol was making you want to be sick, and you were beginning to feel the cold.

Quiet sobs fell from your lips and your shoulders started to tremble as you lowered your head. You just wanted to go home…

“Hey, don't take offense,” you heard the stranger say. “It’s only a cigarette, I don't want to waste mine on an amateur, that’s all.” He shrugged but you had yet to look up at him—that was until his next sentence left his lips.

“This isn’t the only cigarette you have to try, there’s plenty more in the world.” His comment was playful and it had a breathy chuckle ending it, however you didn’t find it funny in the slightest.

Because you knew he was right.

That wasn’t the only cigarette you had to have, and there were plenty more for you later on. Maybe this cigarette wasn’t the right one for you? Maybe it was the right one for Yura?

You only cried harder at that fact. You hated the new reality. You despised it.

“Hey, stay here, will you? I’ll be back.” The stranger instructed as he put out the cigarette with the sole of his shoe before walking away with his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. It’s not like you had anywhere else to be.

A sigh managed to slip its way into the sobs, disrupting the pattern of them and forcing a hiccup to escape your mouth. You brought your hands up to wipe away your tears, not caring whether or not the mascara you put on earlier was ruined.

Silently, despite wobbling a little bit due to your drunken state, you moved to sit down on the curb where you then brought your knees up to your chest to find warmth.

What a night. You thought to yourself as your cries began to calm down and your breathing became a normal pace again. You couldn’t wait for the heartbreak to be over—that’s if you were ever able to get over it…

“Here.” The same stranger abruptly announced as he held a bottle of water out in front of you to take. Glancing up at him, you couldn’t quite see his face properly due to the poor lighting and so you sent him a small smile and muttered your gratitude.

Silence fell upon you as you sat on the curb and he stood next to you, not knowing what to do.

“You okay?” He eventually wondered in a quiet voice. He sounded somewhat curious, somewhat forced to ask. Though, you didn’t take offence. In fact, you probably would’ve preferred it if he hadn’t asked you anything.

“Do I look okay?” You asked back, shocking yourself. You didn’t mean to come across as rude. You really didn’t. However, with everything that had occurred tonight, you couldn’t help it. He asked a stupid question.

“I just figured I’d ask before I leave.” He simply shrugged and looked down at you. “Get home safe, I guess.” He told you and you only nodded your head, screwing the lid back onto the bottle and then resting your chin on your arms, drained.

Not another word was shared between you before the stranger started to walk away, his footsteps becoming more and more distant—just how the memory of you and Yeonjun would become.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁