CUPID’S CORNER — Four ; Gimme Chocolate

it is so unfair bc i thought we were friends and they told me things and i told them things to the point that i considered them my safe space and when the opportunity came they just put me aside and what makes me furious is that i still care about them like why cant i fucking forget them an go on with my life

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a tailored connection

pairing: designer!sunghoon x muse!reader

synopsis: sunghoon, a talented designer, has always harboured feelings for his longtime friend, you. when he invites you to be his muse, the sessions are charged with a tension that neither of you can ignore. as sunghoon’s compliments and intimate moments reveal deeper feelings, a surprising twist shakes your world. with your engagement to someone else looming and sunghoon grappling with his emotions, both of you face a turning point that will challenge everything you thought you knew about love and friendship.

genre: friends to lovers, both are fools in love

warnings: looot of tension, angst!! , kissing, crying, not really proofread

note: aaand with this royally yours comes to an end, i had a great time writing it! where can i get a man who makes me dresses like this :( i hope you enjoy reading this<3

word count: 16.8k

royally yours masterlist | prev:jake

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the sound of laughter echoes through the village streets, a memory woven into the fabric of your childhood. sunghoon had always been there, his presence as familiar to you as the sky above. you grew up side by side—first as playmates, then as something more complicated, though neither of you had the words for it yet.

it started with simple things. the way he’d hold out his hand to help you over the stones in the river, his grip firm but gentle. the way he’d always save the last piece of the bread he bought for lunch, handing it to you with a shy grin. and the way he’d linger just a bit longer when you hugged him goodbye, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go.

you were never apart for long, always finding reasons to be in each other’s company. as children, you’d run wild through the village, a pair of inseparable companions. the streets had been your playground, the trees your hideout, and the open fields your kingdom.

sunghoon was the one who taught you how to climb trees, his long limbs making it look easy as he scrambled up the tallest one in the village square. you’d followed him then, determined to keep up with him no matter what, your competitive spirit something he both teased and admired.

“come on, you can do it,” he’d called down to you one day, perched on a sturdy branch high above, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “i’m not leaving you behind.”

“i’m not going to be left behind,” you’d retorted, climbing faster, though your hands were trembling. you didn’t want to admit it, but heights terrified you.

sunghoon had seen through you, though, like he always did. when you reached the top, his hand had shot out to steady you, his touch reassuring. “see? i told you,” he said, smiling in that soft way that always made you feel warm inside.

that was how it always was—sunghoon pushing you to be braver, to go further, but always there to catch you if you stumbled.

as you grew older, the carefree days of your childhood evolved into something quieter, but no less meaningful. sunghoon’s passion for design began to bloom, his sketchbook always tucked under his arm, filled with dresses, cloaks, and the kind of ornate embroidery that would make any noble gasp. he’d spend hours at the village tailor’s shop, learning from the master tailor, and you’d sit in the corner, watching him work, admiring the way his hands moved with precision and care.

“why don’t you just play outside like the other girls?” the old tailor would often ask you, shaking his head with a smile. “this place is no fun for someone your age.”

you’d always smile back, knowing full well why you stayed. “i don’t mind. besides, i like watching sunghoon.”

sunghoon would look up from his work then, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “she’s my best critic,” he’d say, as if that explained everything.

but it wasn’t just about watching him work. there was something in the quiet moments between you, in the way you understood each other without having to say a word. he would sketch something and glance up, catching your eye, and you’d know exactly what he was thinking. he didn’t have to say it.

the bond between you deepened with every passing year, though the village seemed blind to it. to everyone else, you were just friends, nothing more. but there were moments—fleeting, subtle—when you felt something stirring between you, something neither of you dared to speak aloud.

it wasn’t until one late afternoon, when the two of you were sitting under the large oak tree at the edge of the village, that you truly realised how much he meant to you.

the summer sun cast a golden glow over the fields, the breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers. you were both quiet, simply enjoying each other’s company. sunghoon had his sketchbook open on his lap, his charcoal pencil moving lazily across the page. you were watching him, as you often did, wondering what it would be like to have your portrait sketched by him. would he see you differently if he looked at you that way? would the feelings you’d kept locked inside for so long show on your face?

“what are you drawing this time?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. it was always your way of trying to sneak a glimpse into the world that sunghoon poured into his designs.

he looked up, startled from his thoughts, his pencil pausing mid-stroke. “just... a dress,” he said, and though it sounded like a simple answer, there was a softness in his voice that made you curious.

“a dress?” you echoed, smiling. “for who?”

“for... no one in particular,” he murmured, closing the book before you could peek at it. “just an idea.”

you tilted your head, studying him. “you’ve been spending a lot of time on these designs lately. are you preparing for something big?”

he shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “maybe. i’ve been thinking about... making something new. something different. i don’t want to just follow the same old patterns forever.”

you nodded, understanding. sunghoon had always been ambitious, but his talent had begun to outgrow the small village you lived in. you knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to leave—venture into the capital or even beyond to showcase his work.

“whatever it is, you’ll be amazing at it,” you said, your voice steady, though your chest tightened at the thought of him leaving.

he glanced at you then, his expression unreadable. “you really think so?”

“of course,” you replied without hesitation. “i’ve always believed in you.”

the words felt heavier than they should have, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. sunghoon’s gaze lingered on you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes, but just as quickly, he looked away, his fingers nervously tapping the cover of his sketchbook.

“i couldn’t have come this far without you,” he said, his voice quiet. “you’ve always been there for me.”

you smiled softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “that’s what friends are for, right?”

but even as you said it, the word “friends” felt inadequate—too small to hold the depth of what you felt for him. and though you couldn’t say it aloud, you wondered if sunghoon felt the same.

as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the fields, the two of you sat in silence, side by side. in the fading light, everything felt suspended—like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

but neither of you moved, and the unspoken feelings between you remained just that—unspoken.

for now.

the day had started like any other. you were making your way through the village, the familiar sights and sounds surrounding you—children running through the streets, merchants shouting their daily specials, and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. but today, something felt different. there was an odd flutter in your stomach, though you couldn’t quite place why. perhaps it was because you were heading to sunghoon’s workshop, as you often did, or perhaps it was something else.

his shop had grown over the years, its modest space now brimming with elegant fabrics and mannequins draped in partially finished garments. sunghoon had worked tirelessly, his name slowly gaining recognition beyond the village, though he remained humble about his achievements. it had become a routine for you to visit him, to sit in the corner while he worked, offering your thoughts or simply watching the magic unfold under his skilled hands.

when you arrived, the door was slightly ajar, and you pushed it open to find sunghoon standing at his worktable, deep in thought. his back was turned to you, the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the window and casting a soft glow around him. he was focused, hunched over a sketch, his pencil moving in rapid strokes, as if he were chasing some fleeting inspiration.

you stepped inside quietly, not wanting to disturb him. he was always at his best when he was lost in his work—his mind far away from the village, immersed in a world of silk and satin, seams and stitches. but even in those moments, it wasn’t uncommon for him to sense your presence before you spoke.

today, though, he was more distracted than usual. he didn’t notice you until you were almost beside him, peeking over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his newest creation. “what’s this one?” you asked lightly, hoping not to startle him.

he jumped slightly, straightening up and turning to face you, a small smile forming on his lips when he saw it was you. “you’re early.”

you raised an eyebrow. “am i interrupting?”

“no, not at all,” he said, closing the sketchbook and setting it aside. “i was just... thinking.”

“you do that a lot,” you teased, leaning against the edge of the worktable. “what’s on your mind today?”

for a moment, he didn’t answer. his gaze drifted toward the window, his fingers playing absentmindedly with the hem of a piece of fabric. you could see there was something weighing on him, but sunghoon had always been the type to choose his words carefully, never speaking until he was sure of what he wanted to say.

finally, he turned back to you, his expression serious but soft. “i’ve been working on something new. something important.”

you crossed your arms, intrigued. “i figured as much. you’ve been spending even more time here than usual. what is it? a new collection?”

“not exactly,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “it’s... different this time. i want to create something that’s truly mine, something that will set me apart. but to do that, i need help.”

you blinked, surprised. sunghoon rarely asked for help, especially when it came to his designs. “help? from me?”

he nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip. “i want you to be my muse.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavier than you’d expected. muse. it wasn’t just a word—it was a role that carried meaning. in a way, you’d always been part of sunghoon’s creative process, offering suggestions or simply being there to share in his successes and frustrations. but this... this was something else entirely.

you shifted your weight, suddenly feeling a little unsure. “a muse? what do you mean?”

“i mean...” he hesitated, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. “i’ve been designing dresses, outfits for people i’ve never even met. but none of them feel personal. none of them feel real. i want to create something that speaks to me, and to do that, i need someone who inspires me. someone i know. someone... like you.”

your breath caught in your throat. the way he said it, the way his eyes lingered on you—it was impossible to ignore the meaning behind his words. he wasn’t just asking you to be part of his work; he was asking you to be at the centre of it. to be the person he looked at, thought about, dreamed about while he created. and that idea stirred something inside you that you hadn’t been prepared for.

“i don’t know if i’d make a very good muse,” you said, trying to laugh it off, though your heart was racing.

sunghoon stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “you’re perfect for it. you’ve always been perfect.”

the air between you shifted, growing warmer, heavier with tension. it wasn’t the first time he’d complimented you—he was always kind, always thoughtful—but this felt different. his words weren’t casual or lighthearted. they carried weight, an unspoken truth that had been building between you for years.

you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, your throat tightening. being his muse meant more than just standing still while he draped fabric around you. it meant letting him see you, really see you, in ways that no one else ever had. it felt intimate, like a part of you would be etched into every piece he made.

“what would that mean for us?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

sunghoon blinked, startled by the question. “what do you mean?”

“you and i,” you clarified, feeling the weight of the words. “if i agree... won’t it change things between us?”

for a long moment, sunghoon didn’t speak. he seemed to consider your words, his eyes searching your face as if trying to decipher your feelings. finally, he took a deep breath, stepping even closer, so close now that you could feel the warmth of his body. “maybe it will,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady. “but maybe it’s already changed. maybe it’s been different for a long time.”

his words hit you like a wave, the truth in them undeniable. he was right. things had changed—slowly, quietly—but neither of you had ever dared to acknowledge it. until now.

your heart hammered in your chest, the weight of his confession settling over you like a blanket. you could feel the tension between you, crackling like the air before a storm. there was something fragile, something precious hanging between you, and the slightest word or movement could shatter it.

but then, without thinking, you made your decision.

“i’ll do it,” you said, your voice barely audible, but firm.

sunghoon’s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise and relief passing across his face. “you will?”

you nodded, your gaze never leaving his. “yes. i’ll be your muse.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the silence stretched, heavy with the unspoken feelings that had been buried for so long. and then, slowly, sunghoon’s lips curved into the softest smile—a smile that reached his eyes and made something inside you melt.

“thank you,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours, and for a brief, electrifying moment, it felt as if time stood still. you were acutely aware of how close he was, how much more intimate things had become between you in just a few short minutes.

you smiled back, though your heart was pounding. “i think it’ll be fun.”

sunghoon laughed softly, the sound low and warm, and the tension between you seemed to ease, just a little. but even as you both fell into a more comfortable silence, you knew that things between you had changed. there was no going back now.

the sun was beginning to set as you made your way to sunghoon’s shop, a soft, golden glow spreading across the village. it had been only a few days since you agreed to be his muse, but the weight of that decision still lingered in your mind. there was a sense of anticipation, an underlying current of excitement that thrummed through you, but also an edge of nervousness that you couldn’t shake.

you had always been comfortable around sunghoon, but this felt different. it wasn’t just visiting a friend; you were stepping into a role that felt intimate in ways you hadn’t quite expected. and you knew that once you crossed the threshold of his workshop today, something between you would shift again.

when you arrived, sunghoon was already waiting. the door was propped open, and you could hear the faint sounds of rustling fabric and the occasional scratch of his pencil against paper. you hesitated for a moment at the doorway, taking a deep breath before stepping inside.

sunghoon looked up as soon as you entered, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “you came,” he said, sounding almost relieved.

“of course i did,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the quickening of your pulse. “i’m your muse now, remember?”

his smile widened just a little, and he motioned for you to come in. “right. my muse.”

the word still felt strange on your tongue, and hearing him say it made something flutter in your chest. you glanced around the room, noticing that he had cleared some space near the large windows where the light poured in. rolls of fabric were neatly arranged, sketchbooks stacked nearby, and a dress form stood at the centre, waiting to be draped with something new.

you stepped closer, feeling the warmth of the sunlight against your skin, but also the weight of sunghoon’s gaze on you. his eyes followed your every movement, a soft intensity in them that made the space between you feel smaller, more charged.

“so, where do we start?” you asked, forcing a smile to break the tension that was building in the room.

sunghoon set down his pencil and moved to stand beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he reached for a roll of fabric. “i was thinking we’d start by figuring out what you like. i want to design something that feels like you—not just any dress, but one that you’d wear and feel... beautiful in.”

the way he said the word beautiful made your stomach flip. you swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the way his voice lingered on the compliment.

“what i like?” you repeated, frowning slightly. “i’m not sure. i mean, i’ve never really thought about it.”

sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing over at you with a small smile. “you’ve never thought about what you like in dresses? after all this time of coming here and watching me work?”

you laughed, a little nervous. “i guess i’ve always been more interested in what you were making for other people.”

“well,” he said, his voice softening, “now it’s time to think about what’s right for you.”

he moved closer, picking up a few pieces of fabric and holding them up to the light. “what do you think of these? what colours feel like you?”

you eyed the fabrics he held—a deep emerald green, a soft blush pink, and a striking midnight blue. each one seemed to carry a different weight, a different mood, and the idea of choosing one for yourself felt strangely personal.

“i’m not sure,” you admitted, reaching out to touch the green fabric. “i’ve always liked green, but... i don’t know if it suits me.”

sunghoon tilted his head, his eyes flickering over you, as if he were studying you in a way he hadn’t before. “it suits you,” he said quietly, the certainty in his voice catching you off guard. “it brings out your eyes. but so would the blue.”

you blinked, surprised by the compliment. sunghoon wasn’t one to flatter people needlessly, especially not you. his compliments usually came in the form of casual remarks, offhand observations about how a colour might work or how you carried yourself in a certain style. but this—this was different. there was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you now, that felt far more intimate.

you felt your face grow warm under his gaze, suddenly self-conscious. “you think so?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“i know so,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. “you have a way of making things look better just by wearing them. it’s not just about the dress—it’s about how you wear it.”

the room seemed to shrink, the air between you growing heavier with each passing second. you hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to speak so plainly, so openly. sunghoon had always been composed, professional, even around you. but now, there was something more vulnerable in the way he spoke, something unguarded.

you cleared your throat, trying to break the moment before it became too much. “well, what about styles then? i’ve always liked simpler designs. nothing too extravagant.”

sunghoon nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still lingering on you, as if he were trying to memorise every detail of your expression. “simple suits you,” he murmured. “but there’s something about you that deserves more. something elegant.”

“elegant?” you echoed, unsure of where this was coming from.

“mm,” he hummed, reaching for his sketchbook. “you’ve always carried yourself with a kind of grace—like you don’t even realise how beautiful you are.”

your breath hitched. you stared at him, your heart pounding louder in your chest as his words hung in the air between you. this wasn’t just a compliment—it was something else. something deeper. and the realisation of it hit you like a wave.

sunghoon, too, seemed to realise the weight of what he’d just said. he quickly looked away, focusing on his sketchbook as if he could take the words back by drowning them in his work. “i didn’t mean to... i mean...”

you stood there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. you had never thought of yourself the way sunghoon was describing you now, and the fact that he saw you like this—it was overwhelming. you could feel the tension crackling between you, the unspoken feelings that had always lingered beneath the surface suddenly threatening to rise.

“i just... think you should have something that shows who you are,” sunghoon continued, his voice quieter now, more careful. “not just as my muse, but as you. something that makes people stop and see you the way i do.”

your pulse quickened at his words, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to speak. the way he was looking at you now, with an intensity you hadn’t seen before, made it feel like the walls of the workshop were closing in.

you glanced down, trying to focus on the fabric in your hands, but the weight of his gaze lingered. “sunghoon... i don’t know what to say.”

he shook his head, stepping back slightly as if to give you space. “you don’t have to say anything. i just... i want you to feel beautiful in whatever i make for you. that’s all.”

there was a long pause, the only sound in the room being the soft rustle of fabric as you ran your fingers over the green material again. your mind was spinning, your heart racing, and yet you couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through you at his words. it wasn’t just the compliment—it was the way he saw you, the way he always had.

finally, you looked up, meeting his gaze once more. “i trust you, sunghoon. i always have.”

his eyes softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “good,” he said quietly. “because i promise, whatever we create together, it’s going to be something unforgettable.”

the light from the late afternoon sun bathed sunghoon’s workshop in a golden hue, casting long shadows that stretched across the room. you stood near the centre, nervously smoothing the fabric of your dress as sunghoon readied his tools. he had done this countless times—measuring clients for garments—but somehow, this felt different. more intimate. more real.

“alright,” he said, his voice a little too casual as he approached with a measuring tape in hand. “this won’t take long.”

you nodded, trying to keep your breathing steady as you watched him move closer. sunghoon had always been meticulous when it came to his work, his hands sure and steady, but today there was a faint tremor in them as he unspooled the tape.

“so, uh,” he began, his gaze flickering between your face and the tape in his hands. “we’ll start with your shoulders. just... relax.”

you forced a smile, though the tension in the air was impossible to ignore. “i’m relaxed.”

he shot you a look that said he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t argue. he stepped behind you, and you could feel his presence—warm, steady—just inches away. the fabric of your dress shifted slightly as he gently placed the tape around your shoulders, his fingers grazing your skin ever so lightly. the contact sent a shiver down your spine, though you tried your best to suppress it.

for a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft rustling of the measuring tape as he adjusted it. you could feel your heart beating faster, your pulse quickening with each passing second. sunghoon, on the other hand, seemed to be holding his breath, as if he were just as aware of the closeness as you were.

“alright,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, more focused. “now your waist.”

he stepped around to face you, his gaze briefly meeting yours before dropping to the tape in his hands. his movements were careful, almost hesitant, as he crouched slightly, bringing the tape around your waist. you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry as his fingers brushed the sides of your dress, the heat of his touch lingering longer than it should have.

the proximity, the feel of his hands so close to you—it was almost too much. you bit your lip, fighting the urge to fidget under his intense concentration. sunghoon had always been calm, composed, but now there was an unmistakable tension in the air, a subtle awkwardness that made your heart race even faster.

he straightened up, pulling the tape taut as he noted your measurements. “i... uh,” he began, clearing his throat slightly, “i’ll need to get your bust next.”

you blinked, feeling your face grow warm. “oh. right.”

it wasn’t as if you hadn’t expected it—this was part of the process, after all—but somehow the idea of sunghoon taking that particular measurement felt... different. the room seemed smaller, the air thicker as you watched him struggle to keep his composure.

his hand hovered for a moment, clearly unsure of what to do. “i—uh,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “just... hold still.”

you nodded, though you could feel the flush rising to your cheeks as he brought the tape around your chest, his fingers brushing the fabric of your dress with the lightest touch. his face was close now—closer than it had ever been—his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you.

neither of you spoke. the silence stretched, heavy with the unspoken desires that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. his fingers fumbled slightly as he adjusted the tape, and for a brief moment, his hand brushed against your skin, sending a shock of electricity through you.

you inhaled sharply, your breath hitching at the unexpected contact, and sunghoon froze. his eyes flicked up to meet yours, wide and startled, as if he hadn’t meant to let the moment slip.

“sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t mean to...”

“it’s fine,” you said quickly, though your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

but he didn’t move away. his hand remained where it was, the heat of his palm radiating through the fabric. you could feel every inch of him—every breath, every subtle movement—and the closeness was dizzying. there was something in his eyes, something unspoken, that made your pulse race even faster.

you swallowed hard, your voice barely steady as you spoke. “sunghoon...”

he blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and quickly stepped back, dropping the measuring tape as if it had burned him. “i—i think that’s enough for now,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck again, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “i’ve got what i need.”

you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. “are you sure? i mean, if you need more measurements—”

“no!” he said, perhaps a little too quickly, then cleared his throat. “i mean, no. we’re good. i’ve got everything.”

the tension between you was palpable, thick and heavy, but neither of you knew how to break it. sunghoon busied himself with gathering the tape and jotting down notes, though his movements were jerky, his usual calm demeanour nowhere to be found.

you watched him, feeling a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest. there was an awkwardness, yes, but also something else—something that had been building between you for a long time, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.

finally, sunghoon spoke again, though his voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “you know,” he said, not meeting your eyes, “you really do have... perfect proportions.”

your heart skipped a beat, his words catching you completely off guard. “what?”

he cleared his throat, rubbing his neck awkwardly once more. “i mean... for the dress,” he added quickly, as if trying to backtrack. “you have a really... balanced figure. for tailoring, i mean.”

you blinked, taken aback by the sudden compliment, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. it wasn’t just what he said—it was the way he said it. the way his voice softened, the way he fidgeted under your gaze, as if he were revealing more than he intended.

“i... thanks?” you managed, feeling your cheeks burn with a mix of surprise and awkwardness.

sunghoon gave you a tight-lipped smile, clearly as flustered as you were. “yeah. no problem.”

the silence that followed was thick and heavy, both of you too aware of the tension that had settled over the room like a heavy blanket. sunghoon quickly turned away, busying himself with his sketches, but the weight of the moment lingered in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart, but you knew—no matter how much you both tried to pretend otherwise—something between you had shifted. and neither of you were quite ready to confront it yet.

the days following that first measurement session seemed to blur together, each one filled with quiet moments, shared glances, and unspoken words that hung heavy in the air. sunghoon had thrown himself into the design, sketching feverishly as if creating your dress had become not just his project, but his obsession. every stroke of his pencil seemed deliberate, every detail in the fabric a reflection of how closely he had studied you—not just your body, but you as a person.

the workshop had become a second home to you, and you found yourself spending more and more time there as the dress took shape. each day, you would come in, greeted by the soft sounds of scissors slicing through fabric and the rhythmic hum of sunghoon’s needle as he stitched delicate patterns. his focus was unbreakable, yet there was always that moment when he would pause, look at you, and give a small, almost shy smile, as if he still couldn’t believe you were there, helping him create something so personal.

the tension between you grew thicker with every passing day. it was as if the fabric sunghoon was weaving was also binding the two of you together in ways neither of you had expected. there were the long stretches of silence, where the only sound was the soft brush of fabric against your skin as he worked, and then there were the moments when his hand would linger just a little too long as he adjusted the fit of a sleeve or pinned the hem of a skirt.

each session brought a new creation—a new dress, a new style. it had become almost routine: he would sketch out his ideas, asking for your thoughts on the design, and then you would model the fabric as he draped it over you, pinning it into place before moving on to the next step. but no matter how professional sunghoon tried to keep things, there was always that spark of something more lurking beneath the surface.

one afternoon, as you stood in the centre of the room, sunghoon paced around you, scrutinising the latest dress he had draped over your frame. this one was softer than the others, a light cream-coloured gown with delicate embroidery along the bodice. you could feel the weight of his gaze as he circled you, studying every fold, every contour, as if he were memorising the shape of you through the fabric.

“what do you think?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady, his eyes focused entirely on you.

you glanced down at the dress, running your fingers over the soft fabric. “it’s beautiful,” you murmured. “you’ve really outdone yourself.”

sunghoon didn’t respond right away. instead, he stepped closer, his brow furrowing slightly as he adjusted the neckline of the gown. his fingers grazed your collarbone as he worked, sending a shiver through you. he seemed to hesitate, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary, before he cleared his throat and stepped back.

“i’m trying to capture... something,” he said, his voice trailing off as he picked up his pencil and notepad, scribbling down a few notes. “something that feels... like you.”

you blinked, surprised by his words. “like me?”

he nodded, not looking up from his notes. “it’s not just about the dress. it’s about how you move, how you carry yourself. i want to create something that feels like it belongs to you. not just any dress, but... your dress.”

there it was again—that intensity in his words, the way he seemed to see you in ways no one else ever had. you weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply nodded, letting the moment settle between you.

the sessions continued like this over the next two weeks, each one more charged than the last. sunghoon worked tirelessly, sketching new designs late into the night, and every day you would return to see the progress he had made. he would greet you with that familiar smile, sometimes shy, sometimes teasing, and you would fall into the rhythm of your muse-and-artist routine.

but there was something else growing between you, something neither of you could ignore. each time sunghoon draped a new fabric over your shoulders, each time his fingers brushed your skin as he measured or adjusted the fit, the unspoken tension between you deepened. his compliments, once casual and light, became more thoughtful, more personal.

one day, as he worked on the finishing touches of a new gown—a soft lavender dress with delicate lace trimming—he paused, glancing at you from across the room. “you know,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “i’ve always known you were beautiful.”

you froze, your heart skipping a beat at his sudden confession. he didn’t meet your eyes, instead focusing on the hem of the dress as he stitched. “i just... i don’t think i’ve ever told you that,” he continued, his voice almost hesitant.

the words hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. sunghoon had always been complimentary in his own way—praising your grace or your proportions for the sake of his designs—but this was different. there was something raw, something vulnerable in his tone that made your chest tighten.

“sunghoon,” you began, but he quickly shook his head, cutting you off before you could continue.

“i’m not saying it for any reason,” he said quickly, his hands still busy with his stitching. “i just... i think it’s something you should know. you’re more than just a muse to me.”

your breath caught in your throat. the weight of his words was impossible to ignore now, the line between friend and something more growing blurrier with each passing day.

you watched him work, his brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the task at hand. the quiet intimacy of the moment settled around you like a soft cloak, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else existed outside of this room—just you, sunghoon, and the delicate threads of connection that were slowly being woven together.

by the time he finished the lavender dress, the air between you had shifted once again. there was no denying the feelings that had been bubbling beneath the surface for so long, but neither of you were ready to confront them. not yet.

“i think it’s done,” sunghoon said quietly, stepping back to admire the dress.

you turned, catching his eye for a brief moment before looking away, the tension between you still thick and unresolved.

“it’s perfect,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

sunghoon nodded, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer before he turned back to his sketches, his hands already moving toward the next design. but as he worked, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had shifted once again, pulling you both closer to the inevitable.

the day sunghoon finally called you to his workshop to try on the completed dress, your heartbeat quickened with anticipation. you had witnessed pieces of the gown as it came together—folds of fabric, tiny swirls of embroidery—but you hadn’t yet seen the masterpiece in its entirety. now, standing at the doorway, you felt a fluttering mix of nerves and excitement, an invisible pull drawing you into sunghoon’s world once more.

as you stepped inside, you found sunghoon waiting, his face a picture of quiet intensity. he nodded toward the mannequin where the dress hung, his eyes unreadable but somehow deeper, darker than usual, as if holding back something unspoken.

when your gaze finally landed on the dress, your breath caught in your throat.

it was breathtaking.

the gown was nothing short of exquisite—lavender silk flowed like water from the bodice down to the floor, shimmering under the afternoon light that streamed through the windows. the neckline was delicately embroidered, the threads so fine they seemed like whispers etched into the fabric, while lace fluttered over the sleeves, giving the piece an ethereal, almost dream-like quality. the entire dress exuded elegance, but more than that, it felt like you—a reflection of something so deeply personal that you almost couldn’t believe sunghoon had captured it.

you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the gown. “sunghoon... i don’t even know what to say,” you whispered, your fingers brushing the edge of the fabric. “it’s perfect.”

he remained silent, watching you with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine. his gaze didn’t waver as you admired the dress, his expression unreadable but brimming with something just beneath the surface.

“try it on,” he finally said, his voice low and steady, though there was a note of something raw in it.

nodding, you carefully took the dress from the mannequin and disappeared behind the changing screen, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. the fabric felt cool against your skin as you slipped into the gown, the weight of the silk settling around your body like it had been made just for you—which, of course, it had.

the dress hugged your curves in all the right places, the bodice fitting snugly while the skirt fanned out into a soft cascade of fabric. you ran your hands down the front, smoothing the delicate lace as a quiet gasp escaped your lips. it was perfect—no, more than perfect. it was everything you had dreamed of.

but there was one problem. as you reached behind your back to tie the strings that secured the dress, you quickly realised they were positioned just out of your reach. you stretched and fumbled, trying to catch the ties, but it was no use. frustration bubbled inside you, and after a few more futile attempts, you sighed in defeat.

“sunghoon?” your voice was hesitant, your cheeks warming as you called for his help.

“yes?” he replied, his voice soft but nearby.

“i... i can’t tie the strings on my own. could you—could you help me?” your request was almost timid, aware of the intimacy it required, but there was no other option.

a pause followed, but then you heard his footsteps approaching. he came closer, and the air between you seemed to shift, charged with a kind of tension that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“of course,” sunghoon said quietly. his voice had taken on a softer tone, one that sent a quiet thrill through you as you stood there, waiting, feeling the heat of his presence behind you.

you turned your back to him, exposing the bare skin between the open edges of the dress. the silence that followed was thick, palpable, as his fingers grazed the strings, brushing against your skin in the process. his touch was featherlight, but each accidental contact sent small jolts through you, your senses heightened by the proximity, the intimacy of the moment.

sunghoon worked with slow, deliberate care, pulling the strings through the loops at your back. his fingertips continued to brush your skin, his movements precise but betraying the tension in the way his breath seemed to catch when his hands touched you. you could feel his closeness—the heat radiating from his body, his steady breath that almost matched the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

in the mirror directly in front of you, you watched his expression as he tied the delicate knots. his brow was slightly furrowed in concentration, but there was something else, something simmering beneath the surface. his lips parted ever so slightly, his eyes darkening as they traced the movement of his hands against your skin. you couldn’t stop staring at him, watching the way his fingers worked, almost trembling as they lingered on your body longer than necessary.

your pulse quickened, your breath coming out a little too shallow, and you wondered if he could feel the way your muscles tensed under his touch. it was impossible to ignore the tension—something unspoken, something that had been building between you for weeks, was about to break.

“there,” sunghoon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. his hands remained on your waist, resting lightly against the fabric as though he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet.

you swallowed hard, watching him through the mirror. the look on his face wasn’t just one of pride in his work—it was something far deeper. his gaze softened as he admired the way the dress fit you, his fingers tightening slightly against your waist. “you look... beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “it suits you perfectly. is it comfortable?”

the words were innocent enough, but the way he said them—the hushed tone, the way his eyes never left yours in the reflection—made your heart race. you nodded, unable to form words, still lost in the haze of the moment.

“it’s perfect,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly.

sunghoon’s hands stayed where they were, his touch sending a heat through you that was impossible to ignore. your eyes met his in the mirror, the intensity between you crackling like a flame barely held back. his grip on your waist tightened just a little, his fingers pressing into the fabric as though he were anchoring himself.

for a moment, everything froze. the workshop, the world outside—none of it seemed to matter. all that existed was the way he was looking at you, the way his breath hitched as he stood so close. his fingers brushed against your waist, just under the edge of the fabric, grazing the skin there ever so slightly.

then you turned around, and suddenly, the space between you was gone.

you were standing so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, your chest brushing against his as you moved. his eyes darted to your lips, then back up to your gaze, conflicted but full of want. the air was thick with tension, so much that you could hardly breathe, and then, without warning, sunghoon’s restraint snapped.

he kissed you.

the kiss was swift, almost frantic, as if he’d been holding it back for too long. his lips pressed against yours with a kind of hunger that sent shockwaves through your body, stealing your breath. one of his hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, while the other remained at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of the dress as though he were afraid you’d slip away. the kiss deepened, your senses overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth against yours, the way his hands held you like he’d never let go.

your mind spun in a whirlwind of sensation. the kiss was impulsive, raw, filled with all the feelings he had been holding back for so long. you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—all you could do was respond, kissing him back with the same intensity, the same desperate need that had been growing between you for weeks.

but then, reality crashed down.

sunghoon pulled back, his eyes wide with shock and regret, his breath ragged as he stared at you. “i—” his voice faltered, his hand still lingering on your waist, trembling slightly. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t mean to—”

you were just as dazed, your heart still pounding, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “it’s... it’s okay,” you said, though the words felt hollow. the kiss had left you reeling, and you weren’t sure what to think, what to feel.

sunghoon’s expression twisted with regret, his hands falling away from your waist as he stepped back. “we shouldn’t have—” he shook his head, his face pale. “i crossed a line.”

you swallowed hard, feeling the tension between you shift into something heavier, something filled with confusion and guilt. “maybe we should forget this happened,” you whispered, though the weight of the kiss still lingered in the air.

he nodded, his expression tight, though the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “yeah. let’s... forget it.”

but neither of you could. the kiss, the way his hands had held you, the way your heart had raced—it was etched into the fabric of your friendship now, impossible to untangle.

word had spread quickly about sunghoon's exceptional craftsmanship. it began with whispers among the town’s elite, impressed with the stunning gown he had created for you, and soon, nobles from far and wide were flocking to his workshop, eager to have their own garments custom-made by his skilled hands. what had once been a modest business now thrived under the weight of new orders, with sunghoon’s talent finally receiving the recognition it deserved.

every day the workshop buzzed with activity—fine fabrics and intricate patterns sprawled across every surface, and sunghoon worked tirelessly, sketching designs, selecting fabrics, and stitching together dreams. you often found yourself there, as his muse, watching as he brought these creations to life, offering input or simply keeping him company through the long hours. his success was yours to share, and you couldn’t have been more proud.

one day, a letter arrived from the royal palace itself. the princess had heard of sunghoon’s work and requested him personally to craft a gown for her upcoming ball. the letter was written in elegant script on fine parchment, a formal request for his presence at the palace to discuss the details of the gown. when he read it aloud to you, you could hardly contain your excitement.

“sunghoon, this is incredible!” you exclaimed, beaming at him as he held the letter in his hands. his eyes shone with a mixture of pride and disbelief, as though he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“it’s surreal,” he admitted, glancing at you with a smile that warmed you from the inside out. “i never thought i’d be making dresses for royalty.”

“you deserve it,” you said earnestly, feeling your heart swell with admiration for him. “you’ve worked so hard, and now everyone can see just how talented you are.”

sunghoon’s smile faltered for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes as he looked at you. “i couldn’t have done it without you,” he said softly. there was a weight to his words, a depth of feeling that you felt but couldn’t quite name. your heart skipped a beat, but before you could respond, he turned away, folding the letter carefully.

the trip to the palace was an experience neither of you would forget. the sprawling estate, the opulence of the interiors, the sense of awe that filled you as you walked through the grand halls—it was like stepping into another world. sunghoon had been invited to meet with the princess and discuss her gown, and as his muse and close friend, you accompanied him.

the princess was gracious and kind, and she spoke with sunghoon about the design she envisioned, praising his previous work. throughout the conversation, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him, watching the way he carried himself with quiet confidence, his artistic mind already turning over the details of the gown in his head. it was hard not to feel a swell of pride, knowing you had played a part in his journey to this moment.

afterward, when the order had been placed and the royal commission secured, sunghoon suggested you both celebrate the occasion.

the restaurant was warm and cosy, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, far removed from the grandeur of the palace. the two of you had shared many meals together over the years, but tonight felt different. the weight of sunghoon’s newfound success hung in the air between you, the knowledge that his life—your lives—were changing in ways you hadn’t fully anticipated.

you sat across from him, toasting to his success with glasses of wine, laughter bubbling up as you reminisced about old times. “do you remember the time we tried to make that dress for my cousin’s wedding, and the fabric tore right before the ceremony?” you said, laughing as you recalled the chaos.

sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. “how could i forget? i thought i was finished as a tailor before i even started.”

“but you saved it in the end,” you said, your smile softening as you looked at him. “you’ve always had this way of making things beautiful, even when they seem impossible.”

his laughter faded, and for a moment, there was a lingering silence between you. his gaze met yours, and the atmosphere seemed to shift—something unspoken hung between you, thick and heavy like the summer air. the warmth from the wine and the closeness of the moment made it difficult to focus on anything else but him—the way the candlelight flickered against his features, the way his eyes softened when they lingered on you just a little too long.

he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “you know, this success… it’s more than i ever thought possible. and i don’t think i could have done it without you by my side.”

his words struck a chord deep within you, the intensity in his eyes making your breath hitch. there it was again—that undercurrent of something more, something that had always been there, just waiting for the right moment to break free.

your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned in slightly, your faces just inches apart. the air between you crackled with anticipation, the proximity sending sparks down your spine. you could feel the warmth of his breath, the space between you narrowing with every passing second. your eyes locked, and in that moment, it felt like the world had fallen away.

the moment stretched on, and you could feel your heart racing, your pulse thundering in your ears. he was so close now, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body, close enough that all it would take was one small movement, one tiny step forward, and—

“i’m getting married,” you blurted out, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

sunghoon froze, his eyes widening in shock. the spell between you shattered, and you immediately regretted speaking, but there was no taking it back now. the air between you went cold, and you felt your stomach drop as the weight of your announcement settled over the table like a heavy blanket.

“what?” his voice was low, strained, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “my parents... they’ve arranged a marriage for me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m engaged.”

the silence that followed was deafening. sunghoon stared at you, his expression unreadable, though you could see the flicker of pain in his eyes. his jaw clenched slightly, his hand tightening around his glass as if he were trying to steady himself.

“when?” he finally asked, his voice tight, controlled.

“the date hasn’t been set yet,” you admitted, feeling your throat tighten with guilt. “but... soon.”

sunghoon sat back in his chair, his gaze dropping to the table. for a long moment, he didn’t say anything, the silence between you stretching into something unbearable. you could see the conflict in his eyes—the hurt, the frustration, the confusion. the tension that had been building between you for weeks, months even, was now thick with an unspoken finality.

finally, he looked up at you, his eyes dark and clouded with emotion. “congratulations,” he said quietly, though the word felt hollow, like it had been ripped from him unwillingly.

your heart sank, a wave of disappointment washing over you. you had expected... well, you didn’t know what you had expected. for him to fight for you, maybe, to protest or say something that would change everything. but instead, all you got was a distant, polite congratulations.

“sunghoon—” you started, but he shook his head, cutting you off.

“i’m happy for you,” he said, though the strain in his voice betrayed his true feelings. “i’m sure he’s a good man.”

the words stung, more than you had anticipated, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep ache in your chest. this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. but what could you say? you were engaged, and he... he was congratulating you, just as any friend would.

“yeah,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. “thanks.”

but neither of you was happy, and you both knew it.

the walk back home felt heavier than usual. the excitement and easy flow of conversation that had filled the night seemed to dissipate into an awkward, thick silence. sunghoon walked beside you, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, eyes focused on the road ahead. normally, you’d both talk about everything and nothing—jokes, shared memories, or the latest designs he had been working on. but tonight, every step felt strained, as if the unspoken words were choking both of you.

you could feel the weight of what had happened at the restaurant still hanging between you, as if the tension you hadn’t acted on had only grown with your admission. sunghoon had insisted on walking you home, just as he always did, though the usual warmth in the gesture felt distant now. neither of you had tried to break the silence, though you kept stealing glances at him out of the corner of your eye.

his face was unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line as he walked with an unusual stiffness. you wanted to say something, to break the thick silence, but no words came. the engagement had changed everything between you, and you hated how powerless it made you feel. there was a dull ache in your chest as you watched him struggle with the weight of emotions he clearly wasn’t ready to share.

when your house came into view, you slowed your steps, almost wishing the walk could last just a little longer. but it didn’t. you reached your doorstep, and just as you were about to thank sunghoon for the walk, the door swung open.

your mother appeared, her face lighting up the moment she saw the two of you standing there. “sunghoon! what a surprise!” she exclaimed warmly, stepping out and pulling him into an embrace before he could protest. “you look so well!”

sunghoon smiled politely, though you could tell he was caught off guard by her enthusiasm. “good evening, ma’am. i was just walking your daughter home.”

your mother beamed, glancing at you with that knowing look of hers. “he always does, doesn’t he?” she teased lightly. “such a good boy.”

“mama...” you muttered, feeling embarrassed.

but your mother wasn’t finished. “come in, come in! you can’t just leave him standing outside like that,” she scolded, ushering sunghoon into the house before either of you could object. you shot him an apologetic look, but he waved it off with a small smile as he followed her inside.

the warmth of your home enveloped you both, the familiar scent of dinner lingering in the air. your father was sitting by the fire, and when he saw sunghoon, his face brightened. “ah, there’s the young tailor everyone’s talking about! come, sit with us.”

sunghoon looked between you and your parents, clearly not wanting to intrude, but it was hard to refuse the hospitality of your family. you watched as he settled into one of the chairs near the fire, his polite smile fixed in place, though you could sense the unease in his posture.

your mother sat beside him, clasping his hands in hers as she looked at him with pride. “sunghoon, i’ve heard such incredible things about your work lately. everyone is talking about you, and we couldn’t be more proud.”

you could see the discomfort in his eyes as your mother’s words began to feel more like a reminder of the distance between you. he offered her a tight smile. “thank you. it’s been... unexpected.”

“and well deserved!” your father chimed in. “we always knew you’d make something of yourself, ever since you were little.”

your mother nodded eagerly, her gaze softening as she looked at him fondly. “we’ve seen you grow up alongside our daughter, sunghoon. you two have always been so close... practically inseparable.”

you stiffened at the words, knowing what was coming next.

“which is why,” your mother continued, glancing at you briefly before turning back to sunghoon, “it’s been so hard for her, this whole engagement business.”

your stomach twisted. the topic you had been dreading was now out in the open, and you didn’t miss the way sunghoon’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. he was trying to stay composed, but the flicker of surprise in his eyes was unmistakable.

“she’s protested quite a bit, hasn’t she?” your mother added, her tone half-amused, half-concerned.

sunghoon’s eyes darted toward you, his surprise evident. you could see the confusion in his expression as he processed your mother’s words. you hadn’t said yes to the engagement? not fully? he had assumed you had accepted it without question, but now...

you averted your gaze, feeling your cheeks flush under the weight of both his and your parents’ attention. you hadn’t exactly fought against the engagement with much force either. it was an unspoken understanding between you and your family that the marriage would happen eventually, even if your heart wasn’t fully in it. but now, seeing sunghoon’s expression shift, you could see the conflict in his eyes.

your mother continued on, oblivious to the tension now thick in the air. “it’s just nerves, of course. every girl feels a bit uncertain before a big step like this.” she smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “she’ll come around.”

you wanted to protest, to say something that would dispel the awkward silence stretching between you and sunghoon, but the words caught in your throat. instead, your mother’s next words hit like a hammer, unknowingly driving the wedge deeper.

“actually,” she began, her voice suddenly filled with excitement, “we were hoping you could help us with something, sunghoon.”

he blinked, taken aback by her tone. “of course, ma’am. what is it?”

“well,” she said, glancing at you with a grin, “who better to make our daughter’s wedding dress than the most talented designer in town?”

the room felt as if it had dropped several degrees, the weight of her request pressing down on all of you. you felt your stomach churn, a sinking feeling of dread settling in. you hadn’t expected this—he hadn’t expected this. you watched as sunghoon’s expression faltered for the briefest moment, his composure slipping as the full impact of your mother’s words hit him.

make your wedding dress. your wedding dress.

he smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “i’d be honored,” he said quietly, his voice strained.

your mother clapped her hands together, beaming with delight. “oh, that’s wonderful! i knew we could count on you, sunghoon.”

he stood up then, a sudden stiffness in his movements. “thank you for your kindness,” he said, his voice more formal now. “but it’s late, and i should be going.”

your mother stood as well, ushering him toward the door with a fond smile. “of course, of course. but we must meet soon to discuss the dress!”

sunghoon nodded, his gaze avoiding yours as he headed for the door. you followed behind in silence, the heaviness between you both suffocating.

at the doorstep, he paused, his hand resting on the doorframe as he turned to face you one last time. there was something broken in his expression, a quiet sadness that you couldn’t quite place. for a moment, it seemed as if he might say something—something real, something raw—but then, he simply nodded.

“good night,” he whispered, before turning and walking away.

as you watched him disappear into the night, your heart ached with the words left unsaid, the feelings unspoken, and the love you both were too afraid to fight for.

as sunghoon walked through the dimly lit streets, the cool night air did little to ease the storm brewing inside him. each step echoed in the stillness, but his mind was anything but calm. the evening had turned from tense excitement into a suffocating weight pressing down on his chest.

he replayed your mother’s words over and over in his mind: “who better to make our daughter’s wedding dress than the most talented designer in town?” the words had cut deeper than any blade, the cruel irony of it all making his heart twist painfully. he had dreamed of crafting something beautiful for you, yes, but never like this. not for someone else’s wedding. not for the marriage that would take you away from him.

sunghoon clenched his fists, his knuckles white as his nails bit into his palms. a marriage. to someone else. he could barely picture it, the idea so foreign and painful that it seemed absurd. but the reality was right there, looming in front of him like an unstoppable force. he had always known that this day would come. you were from a noble family, destined to marry someone of status. and him? he was a tailor, nothing more. his growing reputation in town meant little in comparison to the weight of your family’s expectations.

it’s for the best, he told himself, over and over, like a mantra he hoped would dull the pain. your life with that man—whoever he was—would be easier, more secure. you’d live the life you were meant to lead, filled with luxury, stability, and everything a noblewoman deserved. sunghoon had nothing to offer in comparison. even with his recent success, his craft could never provide you with the life that an arranged marriage could.

sunghoon’s pace quickened, the weight of his emotions making it harder to breathe. his mind whirled with a painful realization: it’s better this way. he had no right to confess his feelings to you now. no right to complicate your life any further. you were getting married, and he had to respect that. confessing his love wouldn’t change anything—it would only hurt you more, and he couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause of your pain.

he thought of the way you had looked at him tonight, how your eyes had softened when you admitted that you hadn’t agreed to the marriage yet. the flicker of hope that had briefly ignited in his chest had been swiftly extinguished by the cold voice of reason. you deserved better than him, better than a life filled with uncertainty and struggle. and even though it tore him apart inside, sunghoon knew he had to let you go.

she’ll be happier without me. the thought twisted like a knife in his heart, but he held onto it like a lifeline. it was easier to believe that than to face the truth—that he was simply too afraid. too afraid to fight for you, too afraid of what loving you truly meant. because if he did confess, if he asked you to choose him, what then? you would have to give up your life of comfort, your family’s support, and the future they had planned for you. and what if you regretted that decision later? what if he couldn’t be enough for you?

no. he wouldn’t let that happen. he couldn’t risk it.

by the time sunghoon reached his workshop, his heart was heavy with the decision he had made. he stepped inside, the familiar smell of fabric and wood filling the space around him, but it no longer brought him any comfort. he stood in the dim light, surrounded by the tools of his trade—the very things that had brought him success—and felt nothing but emptiness.

he wouldn’t confess. he couldn’t.

because he loved you too much to ask you to settle for less.

the tension between you and sunghoon hung in the air like a thick fog, clouding everything you had once held dear.

he avoided you, not because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. each passing day, you found yourself hoping—desperately—that he would come to you, that he would say something to stop the impending wedding. but instead, sunghoon pretended to be okay. he carried on with his work, his life, as if the confession hadn’t happened. as if you hadn’t bared your soul to him and he hadn’t done the same. he buried his emotions, putting on that same calm, controlled front, and it drove you mad.

he wouldn’t fight for you.

your heart ached with the realisation, and it became painfully clear during the next few days that sunghoon had no intention of changing the course of things. the silence between you both was unbearable, the distance growing wider with each passing moment. and just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, your parents made it worse.

they scheduled an appointment with sunghoon for the most painful task yet: designing your wedding dress.

the irony of it was too cruel. sunghoon, the man who knew every inch of you, who had memorised your shape, your measurements, who had held you so intimately in his arms, was now tasked with crafting the gown you would wear as you married someone else. it was the final blow, the final insult, to a relationship that had been ripped apart by circumstances you couldn’t control.

when the day of the appointment arrived, you found yourself standing outside his workshop, dread pooling in your stomach. you didn’t want to go inside. you didn’t want to face him, not after everything that had happened, and certainly not for this.

with a deep breath, you pushed the door open, stepping into the familiar space that now felt cold and foreign. sunghoon was already there, standing by his work table with rolls of fabric laid out in front of him, but the usual warmth in his eyes was absent. he looked up when you entered, his expression neutral, professional. he greeted you with a small nod.

“let’s get started,” he said, his voice low, as if he too was trying to suppress the emotions that lingered just beneath the surface.

you could barely look at him. the air was thick with tension, and you forced yourself to speak, though your voice came out flat, distant.

“i don’t even know why i’m here,” you muttered, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “this is just… a formality.”

sunghoon’s eyes flickered briefly with something—hurt, maybe—but he masked it quickly. “your parents want you to have the perfect dress. it’s important to them.”

the atmosphere inside sunghoon’s workshop felt suffocating. you sat rigidly on a small chair, staring at the neatly folded fabrics in front of you while sunghoon prepared his tools. everything about the moment felt forced, mechanical, nothing like the ease and flow of your previous sessions together. you didn’t want to be there. and you were making it painfully clear.

sunghoon turned to face you, holding a few sketches in his hand, his face expressionless. but you could sense the tension in the air, the unspoken pain that lingered between you both. he wasn’t the same, and neither were you.

“so,” he began, keeping his voice calm and professional, “do you have any preferences for the neckline? maybe something you’ve always liked?”

you shrugged, not even looking up at him. “don’t know. don’t care.”

his brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, nodding as if that response was perfectly normal. he glanced down at the sketches again, adjusting the paper. “okay… how about the fabric? i was thinking something soft, maybe silk? or—”

“whatever,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “doesn’t matter.”

sunghoon paused, his eyes lingering on you for a moment. you could feel his gaze, heavy with concern, but you refused to meet it. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how hurt you were, how badly you wanted him to say something, anything, that would change this.

he sighed quietly, turning back to his worktable. “i just want to make sure it’s perfect for you,” he said softly, his voice gentle but strained. “this is an important day…”

you clenched your jaw, the words digging into your heart like shards of glass. an important day? for who? certainly not for you. he kept talking about the wedding as if it were inevitable, as if you were excited about it, and it made your blood boil.

“what about the waistline?” he asked again, forcing the conversation to continue. “something fitted, or maybe a bit more relaxed?”

“i don’t care,” you replied tersely, your tone sharp. “you’re the expert, right? just do whatever.”

the silence that followed was deafening. sunghoon stood still for a moment, his hands resting on the fabrics, his back to you. you saw the slight slump in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the edge of the table just a little too tightly, and for a second, you almost regretted your words.

but the frustration bubbling inside you wouldn’t let up. you had come here hoping, praying, that he would give you a reason to stop the wedding, that he would fight for you. instead, you were sitting here discussing necklines and fabric as if everything was perfectly fine, as if you weren’t on the verge of losing everything.

he turned back around, this time holding a measuring tape. “let’s… start with your measurements,” he said, his voice sounding tired, defeated.

you stood up reluctantly, moving toward him, your movements stiff and reluctant. you stood there in the middle of the room, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest.

sunghoon stepped closer, the tape measure in his hands, and for a moment, you both stood in silence, the tension between you thick and suffocating. his proximity felt overwhelming, but this time, it wasn’t filled with the same spark as before. instead, it was heavy, burdened with all the things you both refused to say.

he hesitated for a second before gently wrapping the tape around your waist. his fingers brushed lightly against your skin, but there was no tenderness in the touch. it was robotic, methodical, like he was forcing himself to distance every part of him from you.

“what about the sleeves?” he asked quietly, trying to fill the silence. “long or short?”

“whatever,” you snapped. “it doesn’t matter. none of this matters.”

sunghoon froze for a moment, his hands stilling against your waist. the silence stretched between you, thick with unresolved tension, before he pulled away, the tape measure slipping from his fingers. he turned to face you, his expression strained, frustration and confusion swirling in his eyes.

“what’s going on with you?” he finally asked, his voice low but firm. “why are you acting like this?”

you stared at him, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and sorrow. his question was the breaking point, the floodgates that had been holding everything back bursting open all at once.

“why am i acting like this?” you repeated, your voice trembling with emotion. “because you’re standing here, pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not!”

sunghoon’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.

“this dress… this wedding… none of it matters to me!” you continued, your voice growing louder with every word. “i don’t want this. i never wanted this. and you know it, sunghoon. you know it better than anyone!”

he opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. the words kept pouring out, all the frustration and pain you had been bottling up for weeks finally spilling over.

“i’ve been waiting for you to say something, to do something—anything—that would make me stop this wedding. but you’ve just been standing there, acting like this is what i want when you know it isn’t!” your voice cracked, your hands trembling at your sides. “why won’t you say anything? why won’t you fight for me?”

sunghoon stared at you, the weight of your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. he looked down, his shoulders sagging as if the burden of everything you had just said was too much to bear.

“i… i thought this was what you wanted,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “i thought you deserved someone better than me. someone who could give you everything i can’t.”

you felt your heart clench painfully in your chest, the ache of his words almost unbearable. “that’s not for you to decide!” you shot back, your voice breaking. “you think i care about any of that? i don’t. i never did. the only thing i care about is you.”

the silence that followed was thick with raw emotion. sunghoon stood there, his expression torn, his hands trembling at his sides. he looked like he wanted to say something, like he was finally ready to fight, but the fear in his eyes held him back.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “i’m so sorry.”

the apology shattered whatever was left of your composure. you turned away, not able to stand the sight of him any longer.

“i don’t want to wear a wedding dress if it’s not for you,” you said quietly, tears brimming in your eyes. you swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to leave, your heart breaking with every step you took toward the door.

sunghoon didn’t try to stop you. he just stood there, broken, as you walked out of his life.

it was the dead of night, the streets shrouded in silence, broken only by the soft crunch of your hurried footsteps on the cobblestone path. you didn’t look back. you couldn’t. not when you had finally made your decision. with nothing but the small bags clutched in your hands, you walked with purpose, heart pounding as you made your way toward sunghoon’s home.

the weight of the evening air pressed against your skin, thick with the lingering tension that had been suffocating you for days. since that fateful conversation at his workshop, the ache in your chest had only deepened, every moment spent away from him gnawing at you. there was no escaping it. you couldn’t go through with the marriage. not when you knew where your heart truly lay.

the small house loomed ahead, a single dim light flickering from the window, signalling that sunghoon was still awake. your pulse quickened, the gravity of what you were about to do hitting you all at once. you were throwing away everything—your family’s expectations, your arranged marriage, the life you had been destined to live—all for him. and yet, none of it scared you.

because sunghoon was worth it. he was the only thing you wanted.

you reached the door, your breath shallow as you hesitated for a split second, your heart hammering in your chest. then, without another thought, you raised your hand and knocked.

a few moments passed, the silence inside the house dragging on like an eternity before you heard soft footsteps approaching. the door creaked open, revealing sunghoon standing there, his hair tousled, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw you standing there, drenched in moonlight, with your bags in hand.

“y/n?” his voice was laced with confusion, concern flickering across his features as he glanced between you and the bags at your side. “what are you—what’s going on?”

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you stepped forward, crossing the threshold into his home without invitation, leaving him to close the door behind you. the room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows across the familiar space where so much of your time together had unfolded. it felt both comforting and surreal to be here now, on the brink of something monumental.

“i couldn’t do it,” you said at last, your voice barely a whisper but filled with determination. “i couldn’t marry him, sunghoon.”

he stood there, frozen, his brow furrowing in confusion. “what do you mean? the wedding—it’s—”

“i don’t want to marry him,” you interrupted, turning to face him fully, your eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made your heart race. “i don’t want any of this. the wedding, the life my parents planned for me—it’s not what i want. it’s never been what i wanted.”

sunghoon’s breath hitched, his confusion deepening, but you could see the glimmer of hope slowly dawning in his eyes. “then… what are you saying?”

you dropped your bags to the floor and stepped closer to him, the raw emotion swirling inside you finally breaking free. “what i’m saying is that i’m here, right now, because i’m choosing you, sunghoon. all i’ve ever wanted is you. i thought—i hoped—you’d feel the same. but you never said anything. and i can’t keep waiting.”

his eyes widened, a storm of emotions flashing across his face. he looked torn between disbelief and longing, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.

“i know you think i deserve better,” you continued, your voice growing more urgent, your hands trembling slightly as you reached out to him, “but i don’t care about that. i don’t care about anything except you. all i wanted—all i ever wanted—was for you to tell me you felt the same. to fight for me.”

sunghoon swallowed thickly, his eyes locked on yours, and for the first time since you had shown up, he looked utterly vulnerable. “i do… i do feel the same, y/n. i’ve always felt the same. but i thought—” his voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath. “i thought you’d be better off without me. i was afraid i’d ruin your life if i held you back from everything you deserve.”

you shook your head fiercely, your heart pounding. “you’re wrong. you never would have ruined anything. the only thing that’s been ruining me is the thought of losing you.”

tears welled up in his eyes, his composure crumbling as the weight of his emotions finally caught up to him. he took a step closer, his hands reaching out to gently cup your face. his touch was warm, familiar, filled with the tenderness that had been missing for so long.

“y/n,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “i don’t deserve you… but i can’t let you go.”

your breath caught in your throat as the distance between you vanished. his hands trembled slightly against your skin, but the intensity in his gaze spoke volumes. you could feel the raw need, the longing that had been suppressed for too long, finally coming to the surface.

“then don’t,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “don’t let me go, sunghoon. i love you. i’ve always loved you. and i’m not going anywhere unless it’s with you.”

the words seemed to unlock something in him. without another second of hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, passionate kiss that spoke of all the years of pent-up desire and unspoken feelings between you. it was everything you had hoped for, everything you had longed for—pure, unfiltered love.

when he finally pulled away, breathless and trembling, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes still closed, as if savouring the moment.

“run away with me,” you whispered, your hands still tangled in his shirt. “we can leave this place, start a new life. i don’t care where we go as long as i’m with you.”

sunghoon opened his eyes, searching yours for any hint of doubt, but all he saw was determination—love. a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped him, his fingers tracing the lines of your face as if committing them to memory.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice shaking. “are you really sure about this?”

you smiled, leaning into his touch, your heart swelling with the certainty of your decision. “i’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

sunghoon closed his eyes again, pulling you into a tight embrace, as if afraid to let go. “i love you,” he murmured against your hair, his voice raw with emotion. “i’ve always loved you.”

tears of relief and joy welled up in your eyes as you buried your face in his chest, holding onto him like he was your lifeline. this was what you had been waiting for. this was all you ever needed.

“we’ll leave tonight,” he whispered, his voice resolute. “we’ll start over, just the two of us.”

you nodded, a smile breaking through the tears as you felt the weight of the world lifting from your shoulders. this was your new beginning. your future with sunghoon, the one you had always dreamed of.

and together, you knew you could face whatever came next.

the moon hung low in the sky, casting its pale glow over the winding road that stretched out before you and sunghoon. the cool night air clung to your skin as you both moved in silence, hearts pounding in unison as you left the only life you had ever known behind. with each step, the weight of your decision lifted, replaced by a thrill that sent shivers down your spine.

you glanced over at sunghoon, his face illuminated by the moonlight, a mix of determination and exhilaration playing on his features. his hand gripped yours tightly, as if afraid to let go, as if letting go would mean losing you forever. neither of you had spoken much since leaving his house, but the unspoken understanding between you was stronger than ever.

the path ahead was unknown, but that no longer frightened you. in fact, it excited you.

as you crested the hill that overlooked your town, you both stopped for a moment, turning to take in the view one last time. the place where you had grown up, where your families lived, where your life had been planned out for you—it all felt so distant now, like a world you were no longer part of.

you turned to sunghoon, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the enormity of what you were doing. “so… where are we going?”

he turned to look at you, his eyes filled with that familiar spark of ambition you had always admired. “there’s a city,” he began, his voice low and steady. “a place i’ve always dreamed of going. it’s known for fashion, for artisans, for people like me who want to make a name for themselves.”

you could see the excitement dancing in his eyes, the dream he had always kept close to his heart. “i’ve heard of it,” you said, your smile growing. “you’re talking about sorina, aren’t you?”

he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening. “yes. it’s always been my dream to open my own studio there. to create something that’s entirely mine. but… i never thought i’d actually go. i didn’t think i’d have the chance.”

your heart swelled with pride and affection as you looked at him. “well, now you do,” you said softly. “and you’re not going alone.”

his expression softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you—really looked at you, as if he still couldn’t believe this was happening. then, with a quiet laugh, he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair. “i don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

you smiled against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. “you’re wrong. you’re everything i deserve.”

with one final glance at the town behind you, the two of you turned and began your journey to sorina, the city of dreams. the road ahead was long, but the promise of a new life with sunghoon made every step feel lighter. the thought of him creating masterpieces, of you being by his side as his muse, filled you with a hope you had never known.

and as the two of you settled into your new life in sorina, that peace only grew. sunghoon’s dreams were coming to life with every stitch, every sketch. he was thriving in a way that you had always known he could, and you were there to see it all. your role as his muse was more than a job or a title—it was the culmination of your deep connection, your bond that had grown through years of friendship and love unspoken.

there were moments when the thought of your parents crossed your mind. the guilt of running away lingered in the back of your heart at times, knowing how much they had hoped for you to marry into the match they had chosen. you wondered if they were angry, disappointed, or hurt by your decision. but as days turned into weeks, those worries faded. you knew your parents—they loved you too much to hold on to their disappointment forever.

"i’m sure they’ll forgive me," you said one evening, resting your head on sunghoon's shoulder as you both watched the busy city streets from your studio. "they’ll come to understand… eventually."

sunghoon looked at you, his eyes searching your face for any signs of doubt. “you really think so?”

you nodded, smiling softly. “i know they will. they’ve always wanted me to be happy. and when they see how happy we are… when they see all you’ve achieved, they’ll realise we made the right choice.”

he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering against your cheek. “i hope so,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. “i just want you to have everything you deserve. i want them to see that.”

“they will,” you reassured him, your voice soft but firm. “they’ve known you all your life, sunghoon. they know how hard you’ve worked. they’ll see why i chose you. why we chose each other.”

sunghoon’s lips curved into a small smile, one that made your heart flutter. “we’ll make a life together that’s worth showing them. one day, when they see what we’ve built, they’ll understand.”

and deep down, you knew he was right. your parents loved you, and in time, they would see the joy that your life with sunghoon brought you. they would forgive the abrupt departure, the wedding that never was. because while it wasn’t the life they had envisioned for you, it was the one you had always dreamed of.

as sunghoon’s studio grew, and as the two of you thrived in sorina, you no longer felt the weight of your decision. you had chosen love over duty, dreams over expectations. and in the end, you knew it would all work out. one day, when the time was right, you would return to your parents—not as the daughter who had run away, but as the woman who had found her happiness.

for now, though, the life you had built with sunghoon was everything you had ever wanted. the city of fashion, the thriving studio, the man you loved—it was more than enough.

and with every stitch sunghoon sewed, every dress he designed, you were reminded that you had made the right choice. together, you had found your place in the world. and you had no doubt that the people you loved most would come to understand that too.

BONUS SCENE !

in sorina, life had unfolded beautifully, and not just for sunghoon. the city may have been known for fashion, but it was also a hub of opportunity for anyone willing to carve out their own path—and you had done just that.

while sunghoon spent his days sketching and tailoring in his studio, you found your own passion and footing in the city. before long, you’d built something of your own—a modest business in jewellery making, a craft you had dabbled in back home but now took seriously. the bustling markets of sorina were filled with artisans from every walk of life, and soon your intricately designed pieces caught the eye of locals and visitors alike.

at first, it was a hobby. a way to pass the time while sunghoon worked. but it didn’t take long for you to gain recognition. your designs, delicate yet bold, paired perfectly with the high-end garments sunghoon was crafting. your pieces began to complement his work, and you both realised the potential of collaborating together—not just in love but in business.

the two of you often worked late into the night, your small workbench tucked in the corner of his studio. sunghoon would be bent over his latest creation, needles and thread in hand, while you arranged shimmering stones and metals into intricate patterns.

“you know,” sunghoon said one evening, breaking the comfortable silence between you, “we’re going to need a bigger space soon.”

you looked up from your work, raising an eyebrow. “why’s that?”

he smirked, nodding toward the scattered jewellery and sketches of new designs littering the floor. “because you’re taking over my studio, that’s why.”

you chuckled, shaking your head as you placed a bracelet you’d been working on down on the table. “i think we both know you’re the one taking up all the space. these fabrics are everywhere.”

“touché,” he replied with a grin, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “but i’m serious. your business is growing. people are asking for your pieces specifically now. you’ve got clients lined up at the door. we can’t keep pretending this is just a side gig.”

you shrugged, but your smile betrayed your pride. “maybe. but it’s not like i’m doing this on my own. you’ve helped me a lot. half of the clients only know about my jewellery because it’s paired with your designs.”

sunghoon shook his head. “no. they come for you. you’ve worked hard to get here. don’t downplay that.”

his words warmed your heart, and you leaned back in your chair, watching him for a moment. “i guess we’ve both come a long way, haven’t we?”

he met your gaze, the familiar spark of affection lighting up his eyes. “more than i ever imagined.”

as the weeks passed, the collaboration between your jewellery and sunghoon’s garments became the talk of the city. nobles and royals who ordered dresses from sunghoon began requesting matching jewellery pieces from you. soon, you were no longer just sunghoon’s muse or his partner—you were an established name in your own right.

at events and gatherings, whispers of “have you seen her designs?” filled the halls, your name mentioned alongside sunghoon’s, but never overshadowed by it. the partnership between the two of you was equal, balanced by your mutual respect and admiration for one another’s talents. while sunghoon’s studio flourished, so did your own reputation. you set up a small stall in the heart of the city, your jewellery catching the sunlight and drawing the attention of passersby. with each new order, you found yourself standing more confidently in this new life you had built.

one evening, as the two of you sat in the now-expanded studio, reviewing orders and discussing the future, sunghoon turned to you, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“so, what’s next for you? you’ve got clients begging for your work, you’re practically a household name now,” he teased, nudging you gently. “maybe it’s time you open your own studio, too?”

you smiled, considering his words. “maybe. i’ve been thinking about it, actually.”

sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “oh? you’ve got plans you’re not telling me?”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “no, nothing concrete. but i do think it’s time i take things to the next level. i want to expand, maybe hire a few apprentices. i don’t want to just make jewellery—i want to teach others how to do it, too. there’s a lot of talent in this city that deserves to be nurtured.”

he looked at you with such pride in his eyes, it made your heart swell. “you’re incredible, you know that?”

you shrugged, trying to downplay your excitement. “i’m just doing what i love.”

“and you’re damn good at it,” he said firmly. “don’t forget that.”

it wasn’t long before you made that dream a reality. you secured a space in one of the city’s artisan districts, a small but beautiful shop where you could sell your creations and train apprentices in the art of jewellery making. the shop was an extension of yourself—chic, elegant, and full of the creativity that had always been a part of you.

soon, your shop became as well-known as sunghoon’s studio. the two of you were often talked about together, not as a couple who had run away from their old lives, but as two individuals who had built something remarkable side by side.

every piece of jewellery you created had its own story, just as every dress sunghoon designed had its own flair. and while you both supported each other’s work, neither of you relied solely on the other to define your success.

the life you had built together in sorina was not just about love—it was about the dreams you had both nurtured and the independence you cherished. you were more than sunghoon’s muse. you were a creator, a designer, a businesswoman in your own right.

as the sun set over sorina, casting a warm, golden glow across the city, you stood at the threshold of your jewelry shop, taking in the scene before you. the streets were alive with people bustling between vendors, artisans displaying their wares, and musicians playing softly in the distance. your heart swelled with contentment as you looked out over the life you had built, not just for yourself, but alongside sunghoon.

the sound of footsteps broke you from your thoughts, and you turned just in time to see him approaching. his face was illuminated by the setting sun, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he drew closer. even after all this time, your heart still skipped a beat whenever you saw him. there was something about the way he carried himself, the quiet confidence, the kindness in his eyes, that always made you feel safe and cherished.

"busy day?" he asked, his voice low and familiar as he stopped in front of you, his gaze warm.

you nodded, leaning against the doorframe with a soft smile. "busier than usual. i think word is spreading faster than i expected. what about you? how’s the studio?"

he chuckled, glancing back toward his own shop down the street. "same here. we might need to start hiring more help."

you laughed softly, and the two of you stood there for a moment, soaking in the peaceful atmosphere around you. the city was beautiful in the fading light, and for a brief second, everything felt perfect. but then sunghoon shifted slightly, his eyes locking with yours, and you saw something deeper flicker in them—something that had never fully disappeared.

without a word, he reached out, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a little too long. the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension that had only grown stronger over the months.

“you’ve got a speck of something,” he murmured, his voice softer now, more intimate. “right here.”

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as his fingers lightly grazed your skin. “thanks,” you whispered, barely able to find your voice.

sunghoon didn’t pull away immediately. instead, he stayed close, his eyes never leaving yours. there was something different in his gaze tonight—something tender, yet intense. and as you looked back at him, you felt the weight of all the moments you’d shared, the quiet yearning that had simmered between you since the day you’d arrived in this city together.

“do you ever think about… everything?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the stillness. he didn’t have to explain further. you both knew exactly what he meant.

you swallowed hard, your heart racing. “i do,” you admitted quietly. “every day.”

his hand slipped down to your waist, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. but when you didn’t pull away, he drew you in closer, until your bodies were nearly touching, the warmth of his chest radiating against yours. you could feel the rise and fall of his breath, and it was intoxicating.

“i never imagined…” sunghoon’s voice was barely a whisper now, his lips close to your ear, sending another wave of shivers down your spine. “that we’d end up here. together.”

you leaned your forehead against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you took in his scent—so familiar and comforting. “me neither.”

for a long moment, you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, neither of you daring to move or speak. the world outside seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you, suspended in time.

and then, without warning, sunghoon pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up with his fingers, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“i love you,” he whispered, the words escaping him like they’d been held back for far too long. “i’ve always loved you.”

your heart stopped, the confession hanging in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. you had known it, felt it, but hearing the words out loud still sent a rush of emotion through you.

“i love you too,” you replied softly, the words coming out as naturally as breathing.

sunghoon smiled—a slow, tender smile that reached his eyes. and before you knew it, he was leaning in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly grew more passionate. it was as if all the years of longing, of unspoken feelings and missed opportunities, had finally culminated in this moment.

you melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer. his lips were warm and gentle, yet insistent, and you could feel the depth of his emotions in every touch. the world spun around you, but all you could focus on was him—the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, sunghoon rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the evening.

“i don’t want to wait anymore,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “we’ve waited long enough.”

you nodded, your heart swelling with a sense of certainty you hadn’t felt in a long time. “neither do i.”

you smiled, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over you. the future felt bright, and for the first time, you could see it clearly—both of you, side by side, not just as lovers but as equals. you were no longer running away from the life you didn’t want. instead, you were running toward the life you had built together, filled with love, passion, and the promise of a beautiful tomorrow.

you weren’t just sunghoon’s muse. you weren’t just a girl who had fallen in love. you were a woman who had taken control of her destiny, and now, with sunghoon by your side, you were ready for whatever the future held.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

taglist: @punchbug9-blog @firstclassjaylee @capri-cuntz @addictedtohobi @jaysfavoritegirl (the rest will be tagged in the comments since tumblr is acting up again )

1 4 3-POINTER — n.rk [teaser!]

pairing: musician!reader x sports captain!riki

synopsis: after forcing yourself to stop playing basketball due to peer pressure, you meet nishimura riki – who reminds you of past you ; and you hate it. you hate him. So why do you find yourself wanting to help him when he's going through tough times? 

genre: comfort fluff, sports au, angst, enemies to lovers

release date: i dont know actually haha im guessing april??

warnings: profanity, injuries, reader and riki r both very dumb, but theyre also very young and emotionally very unstable. peer pressure is bad.

featuring: enhypen + hanni pham from newjeans!

est wc: 10k ish..

authors note: hello hello!! so basically i saw a riki holding a basketball and my sexy brain was like omg lily u should write a riki bball au and so i am. also im so proud of myself for the title of the fic. 143 pointer is like 3 pointer with 143 bc it means ily. im such a genius. LOL ANYWAYS im rlyl excited for this fic 😇👆

TAGLIST: send in an ask to be added!

(ps: there is no like actual teaser like i havent even begun to work on this fic i just came up with the synopsis haha amazing)

THE RAIN HAS AN EDGE ╰ ﹙ ☁️ ﹚ft. park sunghoon ﹕ a oneshot ﹙ preview ﹚

you are the girl with an umbrella on a rainy day, and sunghoon is the boy at the bus stop drenched from head to toe.

in a nutshell ﹒ there’s a heavy downpour so you hold an umbrella over sunghoon and he looks at you like you’re crazy // 100% fluff

word count ﹒ preview is 1.5k; full ver ~6-7k

fic one of the between the lines series ﹙ coming soon ! ﹚

“true, the sun and the wind inspire. but the rain has an edge. who, after all, dreams of dancing in the dust? or kissing in the bright sun?” — cynthia barnett

now playing ﹒ paris in the rain﹙ lauv ﹚

THE FIRST TIME you talk to park sunghoon, it’s raining, it’s cold, and jake had ditched you to “hang out” with chaewon, because he’s a crappy friend who pounces at any opportunity for female attention.

after your study session in the school library finishes, you find yourself standing at the school’s front entrance, grimacing at the downpour of rain in front of you. heavy pellets pummelled from the sky like bullets, forming puddles in the divots of the ground and lowering the temperature enough to make you shiver. 

lucky for you, you remembered to bring your umbrella.

this was a habit of yours even on the sunniest of days, after spending five days bedridden with a fever following The Great Downpour of 2020.

when you reached for your backpack and unfurled your umbrella, it sprung to life and off you went, hopping down the cement paveway that led to the nearest bus stop.

you’re just about to slip in your earphones when you stop in your tracks, spotting a figure a few steps ahead of you. 

the person is crouching on the ground at the bus stop, hunched over and hugging their bookbag in an attempt at gathering warmth. 

the person is drenched and miserable.

and practically radiating angst and despair.  

because you’ve always been a totally (impulsive) caring and selfless person, you shuffle over and hold your umbrella over the person’s head.

they look up — and just when you encounter a cold gaze, dark brows and raven hair — you realise that the moody figure is none other than park sunghoon.

park sunghoon, the ridiculously good-looking senior everybody whispers about but doesn’t actually know anything about. 

park sunghoon, the guy who always wears a stoic, unsmiling expression that makes him the most unapproachable of his group of friends. 

and park sunghoon, the one who’s staring at you with a baffled and slightly distrustful expression on his face. 

oh.

you’re just standing here, staring at him like a creep. 

crap.

you should say something.

you open and shut your mouth a few times, trying to brainstorm what you might possibly say. you want to sound smart. and funny. and cool. so, naturally, the first thing that comes out of your mouth is a very intelligent and super profound, “it’s, uh. . . raining.”

sunghoon continues to stare, his brows slightly furrowed to suggest he was questioning your sanity. 

“it’s raining,” you stupidly repeat louder, as though he hadn’t heard you over the rain. 

“good catch,” he replies, his gruff voice coinciding with the slight dip of his lips. 

the rumors are so true. 

sunghoon definitely has a very grumpy, rather angsty demeanour. you’ve actually spotted him around school a few times (you may or may not follow him with your eyes every time he’s around. is that a crime? it can’t be! you’re not the only one in the student body who finds him extremely attractive and painfully enigmatic), but he’s not the kind of person you can approach so easily.

in fact, he’s been coined the nickname ice prince for a reason.

“yes, uh,” you struggle to string together a coherent set of words, especially because he stands to his feet now, and you have to make the effort to not be intimidated by his height. 

“what i meant to say is that it’s raining but you don’t have an umbrella,” you laughed awkwardly, wanting to whack your head and yell stupid, stupid, stupid for impulsively waddling over here and saying stupid things to park sunghoon of all people. “i-i mean, obviously it’s a free country and you can totally do whatever you want, but, as you might already know — and i’m sure you do because you’re one of the smartest kids in school — standing in the rain can get you sick, like, really sick, and i only know this because about three years ago i forgot my umbrella and — funny story — i ended up getting so sick that i had to take five days off school because my fever was so high.”

oh god.

you quickly slap the tips of your fingers over your lips to physically restrain yourself from talking. the motion makes sunghoon’s gaze quickly flit to your lips, before they bounce back up to your eyes.

his stare is so painfully emotionless that you cringe inwardly.

you wish he’d say something.

anything. literally anything.

but he’s silent.

well, of course he is — you basically just trauma dumped about your stupid fever story. boo-hoo, you were sick from the rain — who cares?

just when you think you’ve reached the death of the conversation, you’re surprised by the sound of his soft voice.

“. . . niki.”

huh?

you blink, leaning in slightly so that you can hear him better.

“. . . niki. my brother. he took the last umbrella.”

oh.

your lips form a small o as you nod in understanding. “oh, niki! that doesn’t surprise me. he’s in my class, you know, and he’s always playing pranks on our teacher. one time he actually hid the test papers so we got a whole extra day to study,” your voice lowers to a whisper, “can’t believe i still failed it though. . .”

sunghoon doesn’t say anything, and afraid of being submerged in awkward silence again, you rush to fill in the space. 

“so where’s niki now?”

he shrugs. “soccer practice, probably.”

“oh,” you frown. “wait, aren’t you part of the soccer team, too? you’re the goalie. you saved so many goals last season and helped the team to their first win in two years,” you say, though your eyes widen in panic as soon the words leave your mouth, “n-not that i’m a stalker, or anything,” you frantically add, “it’s just that everyone knows you’re the goalie because one, it’s common knowledge, and two, the game is coming up and we’re all on the edge of our seats to find out how it goes!” 

stupid stupid stupid. 

why are you rambling so much? 

sunghoon doesn’t seem to mind, though his lips flatten in a rather sour manner. “i quit the team, actually.”

you gasp. “you’re the person jake is replacing? he’s been so cocky ever since it was announced that he’d be on the team. what made you quit?”

he shrugs, “it got boring,” he mumbles, then his ears turn slightly red and he dips his head in an emotion you never imagined park sunghoon could wear — embarrassment. “and i accidentally sprained my ankle.”

you blinked in surprise. “how?”

he hesitates before answering. “i tripped.” 

you stifle a laugh at the irony, because while sunghoon was a lot of adjectives — tall, handsome, mysterious, brooding, kind of scary, even — you never thought he was clumsy.

you softly cackle, earning you a glare from the boy. 

“sorry,” you grin playfully, growing accustomed to his icy aura. “i just never pictured you as a klutz.”

“says you,” he grumbles, “weren’t you the one who tripped and fell in the cafeteria last week? ”

“what—” you choked, “you saw that?”

he exhaled through his nose in amusement. “who didn’t?” sunghoon raised a brow at you. “i’m pretty sure someone recorded and posted it. the caption was ‘dumbass fails to do simple task and ends up with food all over her clothes.’”

your eyes slammed shut before they shot open. “fucking jake,” you growled, gripping the umbrella tightly. “i’m going to kill him.”

sunghoon chuckled, and the sound made your heart beat a little faster. you caught a fleeting glimpse of his smile which — by the way — showcased the most emotion you had ever seen from the boy. it couldn’t be helped that your stomach mangled and twisted at his pearly-white boyish smile, one that made his cheeks bunch up his face and his eyes twinkle like stars.

how pretty.

his smile faded as quickly as it appeared, however, and you soon found yourself facing his usual blank expression again. 

you want to try say something that might make him smile or laugh again, but he suddenly steps outside of the cage of your umbrella and raises his hand, hailing down the incoming bus. 

it slowly stops by the road beside the two of you, marking the end of your little interaction. 

“oh, your bus is here,” you force a smile, rather disappointed. “i’ll, um, see you later, sunghoon.”

“get home safe,” he retrieves his bus card from his pocket, glancing over his shoulder before he boards his bus. “and thanks. for the umbrella.” 

“n-no problem!” you quickly smile, “and by the way, my name is—”

“i know your name,” he interjects, and you think your mind is playing tricks on you when you see the edges of his lips twitch upward. “see you around.” 

sunghoon disappears into the bus and it whizzes by you, though you stay frozen in your feet for what feels like forever. 

he knows your name.

he’ll see you around.

you tuck your lip between your teeth, cheeks and ears flaring up.

get home safe.

if that’s what he truly wants, then yes — you think you can manage that.

( to be continued )

this is a preview only ﹒ full fic is estimated 6-7k ﹒ taglist open — send an ask, dm, or reply !

a/n . btw this is a preview only. the full fic might come out next week ? anyway my first hoonie fic and it's 100% pure, unadulterated fluff <3 this is inspired by paris in the rain + the above quote + an exo fic i adore ^^ hope u all liked it :) see u in the full version maybe ? 🤓

polar opposites? — huening kai

synopsis: you were known to be ‘cold hearted’ and never enjoyed socializing with others. your classmate, huening kai, was the complete opposite; he was more extroverted, knew almost everyone in school, and was open-minded. when your worlds collide, it’s not something you both expected. getting off on the wrong foot only caused another issue for the two of you; being seatmates would be awkward, until it wasn’t.

pairing: classmate!hyuka x gn!reader (i believe)

note: started this a few days ago and Finally finished it so enjoy!! first hyuka work on this acc taehyun will be next trust 🤞

warnings: (most likely) mentions of food, kai is an ass at the start, lmk if i missed anything else! wordcount: 2521 (LOL) words

Huening Kai, your English classmate, was an oddball. You never understood how he was able to socialize with hundreds of people and never get tired after one simple and short conversation. Unlike you, who didn’t bother to add input into the conversation, he was much more different.

You always wondered if he ever got tired of having those many friends, talking to many people, and even having to contribute to his multiple friend groups. But you also wondered if that was just you. Nobody ever approached you because of your bitter personality. It’s not like you wanted to be that way, it just so happened to come out in a less affectionate and more cold-like way.

The countless times you could’ve made a friend but avoided the chance because you didn’t want to experience all those issues and drama between friends. The thought of having a friend never really phased you in the first place, it only sounded like a lot of work. Plus, you enjoyed being alone most of the time. It was more convenient and you were able to get more things done.

Yet, Huening Kai’s abilities still made you curious as to how he’s able to put up with it all. 

Your desk was tidy and organized; your pencil case was unzipped halfway, and unused notebooks were stacked and pushed to the side, which created space for you to place your opened notebook and continue studying your notes. As mentioned before, you preferred being alone because it was more convenient. It also explained your good grades and why you were never distracted or bothered when class was in session.

You enjoyed it a lot. But there was also a certain group of boys who ruined your peacetime and quiet atmosphere. The group of boys consisted of Yang Jungwon, Kang Taehyun, Sim Jake, Park Jisung, and most importantly, Huening Kai.

It’s shocking that you knew all their names due to you never speaking to them, but every day you’d hear their names being tossed around in their conversations, and it was easy to pick up on them. Not that you were an eavesdropper, it’s just they were very loud. It was like they wanted the whole world to hear their conversations and understand every single word they said, which did happen to you. Sometimes, you wanted to tell them to stop talking so loud but other times you didn’t have the guts to do so.

“Hey. Hey! Watch it,” one of the boys exclaimed. You weren’t able to pinpoint who the voice belonged to in time before a body came crashing into your desk. You flinched at the sudden sound and appearance as you watched your pencil case and notebooks fall to the ground followed by another loud noise. 

“Hey, Hyuka! Are you good?” The footsteps of the many boys headed Huening Kai’s way. Your only worry was if your pencil case was okay or not because you didn’t have the time to go back to the stationary store to get new supplies in the first place. So, if something was broken it would definitely ruin your mood. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He rose from your desk while dusting himself off. One step down to the ground only resulted in a big crack. And that one crack made your heart sink and the boys’ eyes widen. “That wasn’t your foot, right? Ugh, I’m sorry! I didn’t think if I pushed you it would make you fall that far.” Jungwon apologized, expecting Huening Kai to burst into flames of anger but instead he patted his shoulder with a smile. 

“Don’t worry too much about it. It wasn’t my foot either! Actually, it was something else…” They all looked down as he raised his foot revealing the pencil case that sat flattened underneath it. “Yikes,” he muttered. “Oh well,” Jake said as they all began to walk away.

Did they really think that was okay? First, they bump into your desk, knocking every single thing off of it besides the notebook you wrote in, and most likely broke everything in it. You were not letting that go.

“Hey,” you called out. Huening Kai turned around to face you as the boys did the same. “Oh, is that yours? My bad, my bad,” he apologized while jogging back to the pencil case that laid on the floor. He picked it up, placed it on your desk, and walked away again. “Hello? You literally broke almost everything in my pencil case!” You exclaimed while searching through it. That was a lie. He only broke about two to four things that were still valuable to you. “Oh, that’s what that was..” Taehyun mumbled. 

“When will you guys learn to not cause a ruckus when the teachers are not here? Especially you, Huening Kai, you cause the most and allow yourself to be pushed around by those boys! You see, if you didn’t allow Jungwon to do that, you and my pencil case would’ve been fine! You’re all so annoying,” you zipped up your pencil case out of frustration, pausing mid-way.

Did you take it too far? You didn’t mean to attack him individually, all the words flew out of your mouth nonstop. Maybe you held them in for too long.

“Wai—”

“Well, if that’s what you think of me. Then I don’t bother changing it. See, I’m sorry about your pencil case and ‘disturbing your studies’ but keep in mind this is also a classroom, and we’re all students in it. You’re not a teacher, the class president, and nobody else but you have a problem with us. We never even spoke to you, ever. I don’t get why you have a so-called grudge against me but as I said before, I don’t bother changing my ‘bad’ behavior just for you.” He scoffed while looking you up and down. Gasping erupted from around the six of you as regret took over your body. “Let’s go get a snack. Clearly, somebody doesn’t want us here.” He rolled his eyes as he looked away and led the boys out of the classroom.

Yikes, that wasn’t supposed to be the outcome. 

—

Thinking back to the scene previously, it showed you weren’t good with wording your words or controlling your anger. Maybe your words came off harsh, but like said before, it was never your intention. Of course, you wanted to apologize, but another issue of yours was apologies. You were never the best at them. It only seemed like a waste of time. 

Plus, he was also in the wrong. Even if you apologized, the whole issue wouldn’t be cleared until he apologized for his mistake too.

“Hey,” Taehyun said while pointing his spoon at Huening Kai. “Don’t you feel bad for stepping on Y/n’s pencil case earlier?” He questioned, alerting the boy who sat in front of him. “Of course, I do. That still doesn’t give them the right to say all those things. I get they were frustrated but couldn’t they have been less harsh?” He said while picking at his own lunch. “I guess you have a point.” Taehyun went back to eating. 

“I can’t believe we’re starting the second term tomorrow. It’s been too fast.” Jisung said while biting his sandwich. “That means midterms are soon, oh no. I didn’t study for them.” Jisung panicked, causing the boy’s around him to laugh. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure of it.” Huening Kai reassured. “Uh, doesn’t that also mean our seating plan will change? Mr. Oh always does this when a new term starts,” Jake said in realization. 

“It was nice sitting with you, Hyuka.” Jake placed a hand on his shoulder but Huening Kai shrugged it off. “I’m sure they won’t be that bad, right? Our whole class is friends with each other, it should be a peaceful arrangement this time.” Huening Kai smiled. “You’re right. We’re all friends thanks to you, Mr. Extrovert,” Taehyun teased as Huening Kai let out a small chuckle. 

“Let’s hope we’re together this time, Hyuka! I need answers,” Jisung whispered the last bit, earning a nudge to the leg from Huening Kai. “Pass on your own, dork.” He said as Jisung playfully rolled his eyes. 

The bell went, signaling that lunch was over. They all brought their trays to the front, discarding the leftovers, and heading to class. 

Finding out their new seatmates was pretty suspenseful.

—

New day, new term. New term, new seatings. New seatings, new problems. 

You scanned the names written on the chalkboard with your eyes that read; Jaemin and Sieun, Chaeyoung and Lia, Jisung and Taehyun, Huening Kai and Y/n, Chan and Beomg—

You paused, rereading the previous pair. 

Huening Kai and Y/n. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” you muttered. You never thought your situation could get any worse. Yeah, you were still mad at him and all but you also felt terribly sorry for the words you said to him the other day. 

You searched for the arranged desks you would sit at alongside Huening Kai for the rest of the semester. “Desk 18-19,” you said. “Seems like I’m stuck with you for the rest of this semester, great.” A voice behind you said in an annoyed tone. Huening Kai passed by you; headphones hanging from his neck, backpack slouched over one arm, and his brown strands fluffy with slight curls. 

“Not like I wanted to be your seatmate in the first place,” you mumbled, mirroring the annoyed tone he used. He rolled his eyes at your impersonation and took a seat on the right. He placed his backpack slumped on the leg of the table as you took a seat beside him. 

The gap between your arms was huge. You were both practically sitting on the edge of your chairs, trying not to touch each other as much as possible. 

“Huening Kai, Y/n… You two can move in more, you know?” Your teacher said, embarrassing both of you. “Ah, right.” You muttered in realization and waited for him to move in. All he did was stare at you instead, waiting for you to move in first. You rolled your eyes and brought your chair closer to the middle of the desk as he followed through.

“Moving on, I’m pretty sure everyone already knows each other, if not then figure that out during your free time! Today we will be starting with the basics of English.” Everyone booed at her words as you sighed, plugging in an earbud. If this was how it’ll be the whole class, blocking out sound from one ear wouldn’t be that bad. 

You searched on Spotify for your main playlist, playing ‘Salty by The Boyz’. You placed your phone down as the screen lit up from the impact. You held back a grin at the comfort of the subtle beats the current song played. The lyrics of the song silenced your teacher’s voice even at its low volume. 

Huening Kai‌ didn’t mean to be a nosy person. Your phone screen lit up, catching his attention. He forced himself to look away, not wanting to invade your privacy, but a familiar album cover caught his eye.

“Salty by The Boyz…” He whispered as you looked at him with confused eyes. “What?” You whispered back, startling him. “Huh? Oh, nothing.” He responded blatantly and looked away. 

Out of all things, he was quite weird. You swore you heard him whisper something — specifically the song you were currently listening to. Huening Kai fidgeted around with his mechanical pencil while his mind overflowed with thoughts. 

Were you also interested in The Boyz? If so, what was your favorite song? Who was your bias? Did you enjoy any other groups? 

All the questions he wanted answers to were now plastered on the piece of paper he folded. He slid the now folded piece of paper to your side of the shared seating and went back to listening to your teacher speak. You looked up from your notebook, taking a break from writing notes only to see a folded piece of paper in your way. 

“Really? We sit right beside each other, there’s no point in passing notes.” You said, coldly. Huening Kai acted as if he didn’t hear a word you said and continued writing notes on the lesson. You sighed in response while unfolding the item in your hands.

‘Hey, I saw you listening to Salty by The Boyz… I was just wondering if you were also interested in The Boyz!’ It read. Your eyes read over the question, emphasizing the word also. You were shocked that he knew who they were in the first place. 

You wrote back a quick and short response — the word yes — and slid the note back to him. A smile crept onto his face after reading the word he wanted to hear. “Who’s your bias?” He whispered as he lowered himself to your level. You looked up at the sudden voice near your ear and were met with Huening Kai’s face pretty close to yours. 

“Oh, my bad.” He said while backing away as you cleared your throat. “It’s Juyeon,” your voice came out quieter than usual as you mentally scolded yourself for being taken aback by his previous action. “Juyeon? That’s cool! Mine are Eric and Chanhee.” He smiled, causing your heart to flutter. 

You were supposed to be hating him! He broke basically everything in your pencil case. But instead, here you were bonding with him over who your favorite member in The Boyz was… Crazy way to get along.

“I know this is a little off-topic but, sorry for yesterday’s incident. I was a little frustrated, but that still wasn’t nice of me to say those mean things to you.” You apologized before the chance was too late. He stared at you blankly as regret overtook your body. 

Was it the wrong timing or did he not know what you were talking about? 

“Sorry, I didn’t expect that. For your pencil case, I genuinely thought it was lying there even before I crashed into your desk, here, I’ll buy you a new set of pens at the store next door during lunch. It won’t be much but hopefully, it repays whatever I bro–”

“Huening Kai and Y/n! Could you please stop talking during my lesson? I’ve been holding off on saying this for the past 15 minutes but now it’s really starting to irritate me.” Your teacher’s voice startled both of you as you apologized. 

“So?” He whispered more quietly this time while your teacher returned to her lesson. You held back a smile and nodded in agreement, imprinting a smile onto Huening Kai’s face. “Great,” he said while returning to his notes as you did the same. 

Maybe seating plans aren’t as bad. They can ruin relationships with others, help build new ones, or even restore a terrible first impression. Clearly, that’s what happened between you and Huening Kai. Let’s just say, you were thankful for this seat. If it meant you’d have a new friend to boast about The Boyz with, you’ll take it. 

© haknom 2023 - do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work on other platforms!

PERM TAGLIST: @soov @redm4ri @ox1-lovesick @urszn @feeeli @taejays @hanniluvi @dakkisz @dimplewonie @ddenoudepression @xiaoderrrr @ja4hyvn @mmaplepastries @essmarye @w3bqrl @jennaissantes @yenqa

UPDATE!!!!!! they are dating 😋😋 and she blocked me yup!!!!!

told my best friend i had a crush on this guy now they (my best friend and the guy) are acting like a couple 😍😍

---

CUPID’S CORNER — nishimura riki

synopsis. because he’s a little shit, nishimura riki sends a totally embarrassing confession about you to “cupid’s corner”, a twitter account that posts anonymous confessions from decelis academy students. but when that joke confession suddenly makes a bunch of people confess to you on cupid’s corner (for real this time!) riki finds that he’s jealous — and oh… he can’t believe it took him a fake confession to realise that he’s crazily in love with you.

pairing. best friend! riki x fem! reader

genre. smau, fluff, humour, slight angst

warnings. swearing, riki’s a little shit but so is yn😭 rikiyn are dense and just overall silly people in general

taglist. open, send an ASK to be added

author’s note. i lied about never having another smau. this is inspired by my friend submitting an embarrassing confession of me to one of those confession accs . i got my revenge tho😍

profiles 1! / profiles 2!

ONE — be my girlfriend TWO — my kyky THREE — get a job! stay away from her! FOUR — gimme chocolate FIVE — BS = bank statement . . . to be added

Enhypen Hyung Trope Series; P.S.H

Sunghoon; Enemies to Lovers part of Enha Hyung Line Trope Series

paring: Soccer Co-Cap!Sunghoon x Student Council Vice! fem reader

synopsis: An unspoken and unforeseen trail of events leads to Sunghoon and Y/N being known enemies. Sunghoon always teasing and annoying Y/N while Y/N does her best to get him in trouble every chance she gets. Is that all there is to it though? 

warnings & tags: food, PA’s, a lot of cute sunghoon and y/n moments, CODING TERMS BC ITS MY MINOR DEGREE, just a cute fic hehe, not proof read

word count: 9.6k (?????)

📌: And just like that…we are done with the trope series. I’m not FULLY happy with the final one but it felt like a good way to end the series with something cute and funny hehe enemies to lovers was hard to write without making it superrr cliche but i enjoyed this ahahah. I would like to say thank you so much for all the love and support this series received it really motivates me to post and create more work so please look forward to it!!! This fic is queued to post bc its so late rn >.<

As for my next fic(s) I have a lot of ideas so please look out for updates till then👀  once again thank you so much for all the love and support make sure to like and reblog and i’ll see you at the next one 🥳 AND AS SPOILER MY NEXT FIC IS BASED OFF OF ONE OF MY FAV CHICK FLICKS AHHHH 

©2023 , dazed-hee . Please do not repost , plagiarize or translate anywhere ty!

Seguir leyendo

crush (l. hs)

creep—> pairing. heeseung x female reader

genre. friends older brother AU, explicit smutty smut: filth, the smallest pinch of fluff, M/F

warnings. profanity, alcohol consumption, mild slut shaming, mean dom Heeseung, getting caught, jealousy, choking, oral, breeding, possessiveness, rough unprotected sex. minors DNI.

wc. 5000 now playing. Crush/Jennifer Paige

“surprised you didn’t end up stealing Heeseung’s boxers to keep as some prized treasure.”

“dude seriously? I don’t have a thing for your brother.”

“oh I know. this lifelong crush you’ve had turned into an infatuation years ago.”

conversation with your friend repeated throughout your thoughts for the rest of the week. picking out a new fragrance while asking yourself if Heeseung preferred fruity or floral. prepping cute outfits to wear in case he happens to be home when you head over to study. testing out new hairstyles, maybe he likes how your hair looks up better.

it’s not like everything you do depends on his reaction. it’s just a crush.

at least, you try to convince yourself that it’s just a crush. the problem is Heeseung seems to have forgotten you even exist.

none of the bait you throw out catches your prey. he hasn’t spoken to you once, let alone looked your way; even when you stand right before him he stays adamant in the most inconspicuous of ways to not meet your desperate gaze.

how you went from a silent playful game of chase with suggestive gestures— even just in passing, to nothing at all had really turned your brain upside down.

it shouldn’t bother you, he’s just some guy, some guy who gave you the best orgasm you fear no one will ever be able to top. some guy who’s made you act foolish, purposely dropping your keys before heading back home when you spotted Heeseung sitting on the couch playing video games. even the sad effort of wiggling your ass— intentionally exposed as you took time to pat around for your keys wasn’t enough.

you shouldn’t care, but maybe you do, because whether you admit it or not, you want him. you only want him.

because you have a crush on Heeseung.

Heeseung’s home now, not that it matters. not that you matter to him.

his face never turns to see who’s sat in the living room with his sister, he has to know it’s you. he has to know it’s always you these days; becoming a regular guest ever since he caught you. maybe he had a point— you’re a creep.

“you’re coming to the party this Friday, right?” thoughts disintegrate when your friend snaps her fingers in your face with an annoyed look. “are you even listening to me? I hate when you zone out like that.”

“sorry..” you mumble, quickly sitting up straight in act of pretending you could care less about Heeseung’s presence. not fast enough for his sister to not notice, glancing over her shoulder and rolling her eyes when she spots him by the door.

“as I was saying, Heeseung’s throwing a little get together.” 

it’s hard enough to hide your sudden interest in what she’s saying, twitching at the corners of your lips to control a possible squeal from passing, you nod with lack of care for her to continue.

“you’re coming right? all the guys will be there.”

“sure, what’s the occasion?”

“it’s nothing really,” she scoffs under her breath, ducking her chin with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “he’s trying to impress some girl he’s been obsessed with.”

the jump your throat gives only seems to amuse her even more, twirling the straw in her cup deviously as she goes on. “I guess it’s her last summer here before she heads off to University across the world somewhere. he’s doing the most to swoon her.”

“she’s older than him?” you can’t fight the urge to ask, too curious to learn more. since when does Lee Heeseung get a crush?! why would he even give you the time of day if he had his mind on someone else. 

“yeah, her names Mia, really pretty. out of his league if you ask me.”

Mia. really pretty. older. full of confidence you clearly lack. she glides along the backyard deck like some type of ethereal goddess beckoning suitors to her call at a glance alone.

of course Heeseung likes her, of course he wants to impress her, of course he’s been ignoring you. 

that’s really all you can think of huddled between your group of friends, hiding the lower half of your face behind a red solo cup filled with tepid water as you do your best to control your emotions from flying off the handles. 

no amount of cute outfits and pretty new hairstyles would impress him, you’d always just be his younger sister's friend who gazed at him like you’d give up your world for his attention, because maybe you would.

“what are you even wearing?” one of your friends interrupts your thoughts, giving you the up and down with a snarky smirk.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“your ass is nearly hanging out,” she notes, wagging a pointer finger over your figure. “someone’s trying to get laid tonight.”

“that shouldn’t be too hard.” Heeseung’s sister approaches sporting an uncomfortable wide smile. “Sunghoon’s been cracking jokes that you’re an underwear thief.”

“what?!” you gape, nearly spilling and tossing your cup. 

“sorry!” she waves in the direction where her brother’s friends stand near each other. their heads thrown back letting out obnoxious loud laughter pointing, the tallest amongst them pointing toward you.

“that’s her! pervert little creep that stole Heeseung’s boxers!” Sunghoon exclaims for everyone around to hear. all eyes fall on you, including ones you haven’t felt on yourself in weeks. 

Heeseung stands by Mia, leaning back on his forearms against the fence lining the deck. the pose giving him a laid back cocky aura as if he could care less about how attractive the girl next to him looks.

the girl next to him who also happens to now have noticed you, squinting fiercely as she takes you in. tightening up her hold on the half empty bottle in her clutches, she tilts her head, turning back to face Heeseung. lips moving slowly in a rigid impassive manner. 

the annoyance prickling through her expression only amuses him, smirking before he flicks her chin to make her giggle. the entire act is absolutely sickening to watch, churning your stomach full of water in a nausea inducing way.

“I need a drink.” you blurt, charging toward where a keg sits between 2 set up tables full of energy drinks, shots and various half empty bottles of clear alcohol. 

one problem, you realize— fiddling with the keg in front of you; you don’t drink.

“need help with that, princess?”

his husky vocals tickle the shell of your ear before you can let out a gasped breath, weighty palms settle on your hips, firm chest brushing against your back. “you’re kind of creating a line of people now.”

a look over your shoulder displays 3 people standing in irritation, 1 tapping their foot waving an empty cup at you. 

Jay nudges your lower half, tapping the tip of his nose against the column of your throat. “don’t know how to use that thing, do you?”

“is it that obvious?”

“cute.” Jay huffs out a laugh, maneuvering you to his side. “you have to disengage the tap like this baby.”

he goes on explaining, showing off his bare biceps with extra flex as he turns the tap clockwise. “nice and snug, like that.”

Jay nods, instructing you to tip your cup. “look at how fast you’re learning. see you want to tilt it just right, too much foam is never good.”

“thanks..” 

the beer tastes foul splashing on your tongue regardless of the amount of foam, not even your handsome bartender could help that. 

“don’t like the taste, huh?” Jay smirks, nudging your side. “didn’t think you drank?”

“I don’t.” you confirm, covering your mouth to spit back into your cup. “I don’t understand how anyone could enjoy this.”

“maybe beer’s not your vibe.” he looks over the table, snapping his fingers as he lands on a bottle of blue raspberry vodka. “someone as sweet as you needs something just as sugary.”

“why do you know so much about this?” you wonder, mostly admiring how strong his side profile looks as he concentrates on decorating the rims on two shot glasses with crystalized sugar. 

“you think I could afford to look this good if I didn’t have a bus boy gig on the side?” he grins, filling the two small glasses with a much too bright blue liquid. “I’m trying to get bumped up to a bartender position, better tips.”

turning to face you, he lifts up a slice of lime cut into a triangle. “so don’t forget to tip. I’ll go first.”

with a wink, Jay sets the lime between your lips softly laughing at the surprise crossing your eyes with confusion. dabbing a line of salt on your collarbone, he lifts a shot glass motioning ‘this is how you do it.’

“lick it” he leans in, the waft of freshly washed skin dosed in musky cologne hitting your senses. a wet glide from his tongue drags across your decollate, lapping up the small chunks of salt. “slam it.” 

his throat bobs, strong neck on display as he tosses his head back to swallow down the blue that already has your gut on fire in anticipation, worsening when your pseudo bar tender’s eyes clenched shut from the burn passing down his throat. “and suck it.”

Jay’s mouth crashes against yours with more force than he planned, too excited to shove the lime away and nip at your lips in hopes to snag a kiss. he does exactly that, pushing the slice away with the tip of his tongue in favor of sucking on your lower lip. strong grip returning to your hips to knead at as he pushes closer to your response, parting open for him to explore inside and find your tongue. blue raspberry mixed with bitterness lands in a mix of saliva, battling together for more of a taste.

“what the fuck are you doing?”

Heeseung shoves at Jay’s shoulder, breaking the two of you apart with a sharp scowl drowning his typically pretty features in anger. 

“what? you said you didn’t care!” Jay glowers in return, tossing his friends touch away. “you have Mia to worry about, don’t you?”

Heeseung’s pupils expand faster than he can speak, twitching between his finger tips to control himself from balling up his fist and sending Jay down to the ground. “she’s my sister’s friend, I told you, don’t.”

“she can speak for herself.” Jay nods, tugging you closer to his side by your waist. “am I bothering you, princess?”

Heeseung’s jaw tightens at the nickname, turning to look away to quill raged annoyance racing up his chest. 

he has someone else to worry about.. he likes someone else, someone who’s nothing like you.

“you’re not bothering me..”

“did you hear that Heeseung?” Jay asks, more cocky now with his brow cocked. the other shaking his head before storming off without another word. “don’t think about it.”

Jay does good on distracting you, asking if you got the step by step process or if he should demonstrate one more time. 

“I think I got it, I’m just going to run to the restroom really quick.” you let him know, signaling to give you a minute before spinning to head inside of the house. 

ice cold water rivers down your front, suctioning the material of your flimsy party dress to your flesh. trickles falling down to your feet landing between your toes, drenching through the front of your underwear.

“oh my God!” Mia stands before you, cup in hand near empty as her other lifts to cover her mouth in shock. “my mistake!”

she laughs, dumping the rest of the cup's contents above your head. the chill passing by suddenly much more cold, setting a shiver up your spine. “I’m sure you could find a pair of boxers to dry yourself off with, slut.”

she grins proudly, throwing the plastic solo cup at your feet before turning around, retreating to her group of giggling friends mocking you like a group of children.

Heeseung’s sister rushes over to cover your front, stammering out an apology while directing you into the house quickly. “you can clean off in my room, grab whatever you want to change into from my closet.”

she pushes for you to head up the stairs, mumbling about throwing your clothes in the dryer before you leave. “I’m gonna go find out who told Sunghoon about the dare, and ruin their night!”

she storms off on a mission, leaving you to sulk your way up to her bedroom. a necessity to sit down on the edge of her bed to not get anything wet as you sigh and hang your head. 

this night had been too much already, from Heeseung flirting with Mia, to Jay flirting with you, to Sunghoon turning your fond memory into a joke. had Heeseung been the one to share what happened with his friends? would he seriously gossip like that?

“and now my hair’s ruined.” forcing yourself to stand, you take in your soaked appearance. the damage is a lot less worse than you expected, just a smidge of teary eyeliner trailing down your cheek, easy to wipe off. stripping off your dress by rolling the wet fabric down your body, you wonder why you even bothered. 

it’s not as if Heeseung showed any interest in you after he got what he wanted, as far as he’s concerned you fell off the face of the earth to be long forgotten. 

clearly you were just a quick fuck. 

silently you nod to yourself, dabbing off your cooled skin with a towel. panties clinging to your center uncomfortably wet in a way you hadn’t expected tonight. contemplating the thought of going commando for the next couple of hours while your clothes dry off, you could always wash whatever you borrowed later.

the door creaks open right as you decide to forego your panties, snapping your attention to Heeseung’s face poking in as if he hadn’t expected to catch you like this.

“oh..” he stalks inside regardless, shrugging while clicking the door shut. “nothing I haven’t seen.”

“get out!” 

Heeseung rolls his eyes, crossing his arms leaning back against his sister’s closet door. “you’ve been pining for my attention all night, now you have it and you want me to leave? why? because I’m not Jay?”

“I haven’t been trying to get your attention.” you correct, moreso lie. pressing the towel to your chest to conceal some of your skin, too exposed under his heaty gaze.

“you don’t even like him like that.” he says, turning up his chin arrogantly. 

“like what?”  

Heeseung’s tongue pokes out, dragging along the seam of his lips. “the way you like me.”

a scoff flies out of your mouth before you realize, taking your turn to roll your eyes. “I don’t like you in any type of way.”

Hesseung doesn’t miss his chance to invade your space, capturing your jaw with one hand to make your neck crack, forcing your gaze to focus on his. “because you haven’t been coming around almost everyday for your bullshit crafting sessions suddenly? bending over in front of me in the tiniest piece of fabric barely covering your ass pathetic excuse for a skirt? staring at me while drool spills out of your mouth like some horny puppy?”

your hands circle his wrist, struggling under the grip he keeps secured on you. “never did any of that you fucking pervert.”

Heeseung lets out just a hint of a laugh, licking his bottom lip before he leans closer, long neck bending into meet you eye level. “what type of idiot do you take me for? you think I’ve already forgotten how you cried and begged on my cock?”

“I didn’t beg.” you spit out, lying through your teeth. a lick of excitement curls through your chest, surging its way through your veins to the tips of your fingers. an unfortunate uncontrollable reaction to the close proximity of his pink saliva coated lips hovering just above yours.

“do you need the reminder?” his cheek lifts to one side, pulling off the signature shit-eating smirk you’ve obsessed over through sleepless nights with a pillow lodged between your thighs. his thumb inches up to your pout, pressing down the center of your lower lip with a rough dig. “I can show you, but the way you chant my name like a prayer sounds much prettier.”

“Heeseung..” 

“that’s it..” he smiles, softly, chest rising and falling to contain a sigh. the syrupy sweet whiny way you let out each syllable of his name playing over and over like a broken record each time he finds himself with a fist wrapped around his cock. even resorting to bury his face into one of his pillowcases still lingering with traces of your shampoo.

“Heeseung..” you repeat, laving at his thumb. a low moan escaping your throat from the taste alone, not because it’s good, but because it’s him; the object of your every desire toying with you the way you need.

“you say my name like you want me. like you only want me.” his thumb presses in, releasing the towel free of your grip to land at your feet. inching in closer until the backs of your knees hit the edge of his sister’s bed. the reminder shooting your eyes open, shaking your head.

“shh shh, everyone's partying.” he reassures, sliding messy bits of your hair behind your ear while lowering you to lay back. “don’t think about anyone else, it’s just us.”

Heeseung roams your exposed figure, sucking in a deep breath observing your chest rise and fall faster the longer he feels over your thighs. curious hands trail upward to squeeze and pull at your hips, digging his fingers into your waist. “I gave you what you wanted and you’re still so pathetically desperate, spreading your thighs open begging me to give you more.”

“Heeseung..”

his eyelashes flutter, fanning the tops of his cheeks as he tips his neck back. palming down your sides to loop the strings of your underwear through his fingers. “you know what to say, good girls don’t need to be told twice.”

“please?” you ask, agonizingly so, defeated without even trying. plotting and planning for weeks the different scenarios that could land you under his menacing hands once again. 

Heeseung knows you’ve been putting in work to get his attention. nearly snapping when he saw you bent over badly pretending to search for something on the floor. the perfect position to fuck you right there, push your face into the ground and claim you as if you belong to him, because in his mind, you do.

he tsks, tongue clicking loudly against the backs of his teeth, spreading your thighs apart to watch your cunt pulsate. the thin material covered in your arousal doing a poor job of concealing anything. tracing a pathway up your inner thighs, he grips at the tender flesh surrounding your underwear. pulling and kneading you to make your hole open and close under the material. a loud pop of wetness emitting with each movement, sending his neck side to side as he admires.

“you get wet like this for anyone else?” Heeseung rasps, throat already betraying him. having to swallow down a wad of saliva to calm himself.

“only you.” you confess, too pent up to force a lie anymore.

“I know.” he muses, biting his lower lip to wash away the smirk threatening to pull at his lips. tugging the seat of your underwear to the side, he kisses the backs of his teeth, pushing a finger between your slit. “I know you’ve been waiting, prancing around all dolled up wishing I’d fuck you again.”

each word sinks your chest deeper into the bed, worrying your eyebrows together as you nod. hips canting upward for more, only for his other hand to splay across your stomach and push you back down. “stay like this, you don’t deserve it after what you just pulled.”

“I’m sorry..I..didn’t..” whimpers break your speech, trembling as he slots between your thighs sinking two fingers inside of you. pushing them apart to stretch you open, unable to contain a hiss from how tight you wrap around his digits.

“yes you did.” he corrects, biting on his lip to stop himself from cracking. “you can speak for yourself, can’t you? you know what you did.”

a hushed curse melts under your tongue, squirming when he shoves another finger in. frantically shaking your head with a sob, letting a shattered denying whimpered out. 

“it wasn’t enough last time. you need to learn your lesson.” 

Heeseung moves swiftly, knees hitting the ground to latch his mouth on your clit. the three digits inside of you setting a drilling speed bowing your back up into an arch. the furl hitting you intensely, snapping your spine up into a perfect curve. 

“fuck!” each roll of his tongue against your clit charges through your nerves. fingers dripping in your arousal, pushing out filthy lewd sounds the harder and faster he mercilessly pumps them. gushes of wetness pour freely, dribbling down the the inside of his forearm.

Heeseung doesn’t relent, licking fat strips between your folds, noisy as he slurps up the mess of slick coating your outer lips. his fingers curling inside of you, pushing your climax to hit faster with lips pursed together on your clit. 

“taste so good for me.” he vibrates against your bundle of nerves. the tips of his fingers pressing hard against a spot deep inside of you pushing the heels of your feet to dig into the bed, shouting between gritted teeth.

“I’m—I’m!” words die in your throat, the palm flattened on your stomach reaching up to grab your breasts, ripping the cups of your bra down to watch your chest bounce as you shake through an orgasm. white hot heat burns at your retinas, clenching your eyes shut with a whine when Heeseung continues to lap and press at your sensitive clit, his digits releasing with a wet pop. leisurely dragging the mess of your release across your inner thighs.

“so fucking nasty.” he says, trailing his tongue up to paint saliva on top of the wetness covering you. “only I should get to see you like this.”

teeth nip at your inner thighs, grabbing onto your ruined underwear to throw aside. clothes fly off his body, stroking himself a few times to full hardness, returning a desperate ache to pulsate between your legs.

Heeseung mounts you immediately, dick twitching in his palm the more time he spends staring at your pilant figure. helplessly gazing up at him looming over you. knocking your knees apart to set himself between you, the tip of his cock prods at your entrance. one hand secured at the base to not fuck fully into you. “so pretty for me.”

“Hee..” your voice trembles, whining even so. unable to stop yourself from groveling. a sad thirsty puppy with your tongue hung loose, needy pants blowing out. the image of your already fucked out face shooting pangs of heat through Heeseung’s chest, pushing the tip in more to watch your entrance struggle around his size. 

“I know.” he finally pushes in more, catching a gasped breath halfway. velvety walls trap him, wet, hot and so so wet, the sensation pushing a groan from the back of his throat. “so fucking good, feel so good for me.”

Heeseung buries into the hilt, cutting off a choked moan expelled from your chest. his cock stretching you open exactly as you remembered, replayed nightly. shuffling closer, his hips roll against you, placing a hand on your throat to keep you in place. dragging out slowly to slam back in, growing addicted to the way you spasm around him. 

he sets a gruelling pace right off, thrust after thrust pounding into your pilant body, pushing your mind to drift further and further away. “this is what happens when you forget who you belong to.”

his breath grows long-winded, pistoning with vigor. the clap of your skin meeting resounding throughout the bedroom making it easy to forget he never locked the door.

“Heeseung?”

a voice coming from outside interrupts your moment, stilling the both of you. the hand on your throat loosening momentarily as he listens, setting a finger on your lips.

“shh shhh..” Heeseung’s eyes go wide, glancing at the door as footsteps echo down the hall. whines lost in his palm, quickly covering his fingers in tears that won’t stop from streaming down your face. he stiffens, slowing to a soft pace by only grinding into you. “you have to be quiet baby.”

another call of his name passes, louder the closer they approach. the familiar noise of doors opening and shutting after each. the anticipation of getting caught only adding more thrill, sending waves of excitement to your core, clamping around the size roughly jerking inside of you.

“fuck..” Heeseung grits, slapping his palm over your mouth with more force when you let out a weakened moan. footsteps clearly change direction, pushing the door open to unveil Mia’s face dropping.

“Heeseung?” she splutters at first, jaw dropped where she stands. the palm on your throat returning to grip you tightly and force you to look at her. 

“look who it is baby.” his thrusts return to a brutal snap, aiming hard and rapid again. releasing your locked lips to hoist one of your legs onto his shoulder for the viewer the get a good look. “what was that she called you earlier? a slut?”

Heeseung mocks you, slapping your thigh when you barely respond. choking under his hold growing tighter, constricting your air flow even more. “my slut, my pretty little slut.”

gurgled sobs emit between the ruthless pace he’s fallen into, meeting Mia’s gaze for less than a second before she huffs angrily, spinning on her foot with her middle finger stretched out. mumbling something about what a ‘fucking asshole’ Heeseung is.

“I’ll never let her talk to you like that again.” he stutters between pressing a sloppy pattern of kisses against your forehead. pecks littering down your down to your lips, softly pressing together.

it’s too much, trapped under his weight, stirring your mind to uselessness. the only thing able to pass through your muddled thoughts is the need to cum. to feel his warmth deep inside of you.

“d-don’t pull out, please—please, wanna feel you.” through chattering teeth you plea, scrabbling to grab onto his shoulders. too crushed in the folded position he’s kept you in to breathe properly, let alone speak up. endless amounts of whimpers and cries pouring the more he buries inside of you. licking at his upper lip with a nod.

“beg for it, why should I give it to you baby?” Heeseung’s mockery has you clamping around his size, rolling your eyes back with ragged breaths pulled from your chest. 

“go-good..good for you, pretty for you..” your voice continues to waver, coherency completely evading you with each pointed thrust. words blubbering out without logical sense, overheated and numb down to your toes that still manage to curl up.

“sosososo pretty.” he lets out, mostly to himself. struck by the way your eyelashes have clumped together with tears, lips stung as if bees have attacked your sinful mouth. drool leaking it’s way down to your chest, strings of saliva endlessly pouring out with each obscene call of his name. 

ruined, ruined and destroyed to only crave his cock. he’d make sure of it, make sure you never look for anyone else. make sure no one can satisfy your holes the way he can. 

Heeseung tugs himself out to just the tip, leveraging his weight onto the pits of your knees to keep your ass angled up. the tip of his cock swollen red, decorating your abused hole prettily while he throbs against your opening. “you want it?”

“please—please!” 

“so cute.” he coos, grunting as he pushes back in taking his time just to feel you suck around each inch of his thick size. filling you to the brim to feel every bit of him making shape in your hole. a loud moaned gasp rips from your lips when he jerks inside you, pushing balls deep. “you’re mine. you’re only mine.”

thrusting resumes to a fast pace, gripping moans out of your throat despite how scratchy and dry it feels. Heeseung feels the need to make you watch, groping your legs up to push your body in half. spread open to completely able to see where your pussy pulls on his shaft. milking him to cum as you pulsate and clench around him.

“want me to fill your pretty pussy up? hmm?” he emphasizes, hips slapping against your ass. cock dipping in and out of your angrily, only able to dumbly nod your head.

“H-hee…Heeseung—Heeseung..”

the shattered prayer of his name drips from your tongue, throwing your head back with one last cry. pussy squeezing impossibly tight forcing him to stop for a second to catch his breath. the sweat between your bodies secreting rapidly, a fresh scent of body wash filling your head with everything Heeseung. 

“that’s my good girl.” he says roughly, near his breaking point. further caging you to the bed as he presses closer, left with no choice but to take it. “fill you up like you need, anything for you.”

his thrusts grow erratic, sending your oversensitivity into overdrive, turned into a brainless babbling mess. the view of your pussy taking it, in spite of how much it hurts, combined with you mouthing his name sends him over the edge. coming to a still point with twitching lips, shooting hot white strings to the last drop. shallowly fucking the last few spurts until you squirm, throwing your head side to side with a wail.

allowing your legs to come down, he keeps you held open. mesmerized by the gush of cum that won’t stay inside of you. too much for your tiny cunt to handle, gripping onto the base of his length to shove it back in.

“a-ahh..” you hiss, too fatigued for more. “Hee..”

seeming satisfied, he massages your hips, mindful as he moves off to flop by your side. the drain finally hitting him, a numbing throb beating at his lower back from the exertion used.

“Heeseung..” you sigh, landing your head flat on the bed. pondering if you should be worrying about getting dressed before his sister asks herself why you’ve been taking so long.

“hmm?” he murmurs, half-asleep after fucking the life out of you. how he hadn’t managed to absorb your energy in the process seems unfathomable.

“why’d you ignore me?” you can’t help but ask. “are you going to keep acting like that?”

it’s Heeseung’s turn to let out a winded sigh, licking at the roof of his mouth to coat his dry tongue. “you’re my sister's friend, I don’t want to ruin your friendship if we end up.. if I fuck things up..”

while his logic makes sense, the only thought running a course around your brain has you shooting up to sit and poke at his abdomen. “you like me!”

Heeseung grunts, throwing an arm across his eyes, unable to hide the smile taking over his lips. “maybe.”

“ignoring a girl because you like her is soooo childish.” you jeer, pinching his side.

Heeseung adjusts his arms behind his head to look at you, a more serious expression taking over his face. “it’s not everyday that the girl you’ve had a crush on since the summer before high school hides in your closet on a mission to steal your boxers.”

“I can explai— wait, what?? what did you just say??” 

Heeseung mimics pulling a zipper shut across his lips, shrugging as he quickly sits up to grab his discarded clothing; having the same concern of getting caught again.

“Heeseung! you come back here and confess your love to me right now!”